The people in this story are real and this is their story. More or less.
I have taken some literary license and embellished some of the facts. Comments are requested and appreciated.
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment on my story. Please enjoy.
It's Saturday night and I'm sitting here at the bar waiting to get my ass kicked, again. Wait, I hear the one doing the kicking coming in now. This will be the third time in seven weeks that it will happen and at the same bar. Why don't I change bars you ask? I will answer that question by telling you my story. Here goes.
My name is Jack (Jackson really, after my dad), I am 24, 6 feet 2 and about 220 pounds. I have a worked harden body; the muscles aren't from the gym. Although I do run about 3 miles two times a week to help keep in shape. I am fairly good looking; you wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with me anyway. I work in a stocking warehouse, as assistant inventory manager.
A stocking warehouse receives deliveries from manufacturers and set up loads for shipping to their local customers as needed. I'm supposed to be at a desk, but there is always something on the floor that I have to help load and ship. My job is a lot more physical than the title implies.
Now, let me introduce you to Karen, my ex-fiancée, my significant other, my soul mate, and the reason I am getting my ass kicked on a regular basis. Karen is also 24 and tall for a woman at 5 feet 11; she is slender, not thin, and well endowed. (She has big boobs). She works for an insurance company as a claims adjuster.
At the time that the trouble began we had been dating, and then engaged, for 2 years. Karen and I met as freshmen in college and really didn't date until the last half of our senior year. We joined the same study group as freshmen and our study group continued all through college, so we spent time together for 4 years. After our first semester in the group, we became friends as well as study partners. When the group paired off to study different subjects, Karen and I always seemed to be pushed together.
I didn't have any really close friends in college, just a few beer buddies. Guess I studied too much to become a full fledged member of the party pack. It wasn't that I was a stick in the mud or anything; my family and I had worked hard to be able to send me to school. I thought an education was more important than being a party animal. A few beers at the bar across from the campus were about the extent of my wild times in college.
However, the guy that I was closest to, or at least occasionally hung around with, was Chuck. According to Chuck, he is a ladies' man of great ability. I wouldn't know; I didn't spend that much time with him.
Karen and Chuck met at the beginning of our senior year and started to date, pretty much exclusively. After their dates, Chuck would tell the pack members and me about the wild sex they had on their last date. According to Chuck every date was the same, a great sexual adventure. I didn't believe him, but it could be. Karen and I were study buddies and casual friends, but I didn't know her sexual preferences. Anyway it wasn't up to me to protect her reputation; although I did warn Chuck about his ravings a couple of times. I explained to him there would be hell to pay if Karen found out he was talking about her.
Chuck, two of his cronies, and I was sitting at a table in the off campus bar and he was regaling us with the latest episode of wild monkey sex. I glanced over his shoulder and saw a trio of girls headed our way. Something about the way they were walking didn't make me think they were going to party with us. Karen was leading the crew and she looked pissed.
"You rotten son of a bitch," Karen screamed at Chuck. "How dare you spread your lies?" She continued for about three minutes, never once stopping her harangue and never once giving Chuck a chance to answer. "If my brother was here, he would rip off your head and use it for a door stop."
"I don't know what you are talking about Karen. I haven't said anything about us. Have I guys?" Chuck was looking at the three of us at the table to back him up. Both of his buddies shook their heads and agreed he had said nothing; that left me. Karen and her posse, Chuck and his pack, were all staring at me waiting for my answer. I was between a rock and a hard place; caught between two friends. One of the friends I was beginning to really like and the other was just a drinking buddy. You can probably figure out which is which.
This was a problem for me; you see I don't lie. I know what you are thinking, but it's true. It's not because of moral issues, well somewhat. Lying requires a lot of work and concentration to be good at it. You have to remember what you said, to whom you said it, and where you said it. Different people will have to have lies customized for them.
See what I mean? It's a lot of work. I don't like to work any harder than I have to, so it is just better to tell the truth. Truth is usually the best policy; I know, an old adage, but valid just the same. In addition, my dad had instilled some old school ideas in my head. One of these ideas was that your word is your bond; another way to put it was don't lie.
I don't mean that I'd intentionally hurt someone when a little subterfuge was necessary. As an example, my sister used to ask me if a skirt or pair of slacks made her look fat. I wouldn't tell her it looked like ten pounds of potatoes in a five pound sack. Instead, if they did make her look fat I would say no but that the color wasn't a good one for her. See no need to hurt people over the small stuff.
"Well Chuck, you have told us about a couple of dates and mentioned spending the night at Karen's place."
Chuck looked at me in disbelief and muttered, "Some friend you are."
"If you don't want a truthful answer don't ask me the question," I replied.
Karen turned back to Chuck and yelled at him, "You piece of crap, you have never even been to my dorm room much less spent the night. I have never allowed you to touch me below the neck or above the knee. What other lies are you spreading?"
This time she jumped his ass for a good five minutes. Chuck sat there and tried to answer her; all you heard from him was but, but, but, over and over. Finally Karen wound down, stepped up to Chuck and slapped him hard. I thought his head was going to come off. She turned to me smiled and she and the crew left the bar.
"Thanks a lot asshole," Chuck said to me, rubbing his cheek. "Why didn't you back me up?"
"I'm not the asshole here, Chuck. You're the one telling all the sex stories about Karen. To answer to your question, I don't lie about or to people, if I can help it. So don't put this on me, it's all on you and your big mouth."
Needless to say, Chuck and I didn't hang around together much after that. No big deal, we weren't that close to begin with.
The following week at the study group, Karen asked me to meet for coffee afterwards. It wasn't unusual for the group to go for coffee or a beer after class. When I walked into the little diner that we normally went to, Karen was at a table alone with two cups of coffee in front of her. This was a little out of the ordinary; usually there was at least one of Karen's crew with her. I sat down, put a little sugar in the coffee and waited for Karen to say something.
"I wanted to thank you for not lying for Chuck last week," Karen told me. "It wasn't easy for you to go against your friend."
"You're welcome, but you don't owe me any thanks, I just told the truth," I replied.
"It would have been easier for you just to go along with the others. I know your actions may have cost you a friendship with Chuck and I appreciate what you did."
"Again, no thanks are necessary. I just did what I believed to be the right thing. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I didn't do it all for you; I did it because of what I believe. You see, my dad taught me, my brothers, and my sister some old school ideas or virtues. Whatever you want to call them."
"Like what?" Karen seemed interested.
"My dad, and the whole family for that matter, believes that you are responsible for your actions and their consequences; we believe you should accept our laws and authority, but not blindly; and to me, most importantly, take care of your own. That means not only your family but also your friends. I guess these ideas are old fashioned now, but my family still believes in them. That's what I meant when I said I didn't do it just for you. Also I consider you a friend and I couldn't let Chuck dump on you like that."
"I feel we are friends also and still believe I owe you one. Let me take you for pizza and beer tomorrow night as a thank you."
"I would like that."
"It's a date. Can you pick me up at 7:00?"
The next night at 7:00, I picked Karen up at her dorm in my old truck and we went to a little pizza place close to campus. Every college has at least a couple of pizza joints close to school, but this one was more a family place instead of a college hang out. The food was good, the beer cold, and the company was excellent. I began to wonder if I wanted to be more than friends with Karen.
We had a really good pizza, some beers and great conversation. I don't remember anything of importance that was said but we got to know each other much better. The owner told us we had to go at 12:00, they were closing. We had spent the better part of four hours talking and laughing.
I drove Karen back to her dorm and walked her to her door and thanked her for the pizza and the company. She gave me a kiss goodnight, just a friendly little peck; at least that's how it started. Time seemed to stop. I know it's an old mushy line, but it's the truth. I don't know how long that kiss was, but it didn't stay a friendly little peck for long. The kiss developed a life of its own, turning into a tongue down your throat and check your tonsils type. By the time the kiss ended we were both breathing like we had ran a marathon.
Karen looked into my eyes and said, "Oh my god. I need to go. Good night."
With that she rushed into the dorm and I was left adjusting myself so I could walk. What the hell just happened? As I walked back to my truck I answered my own question. I had stopped thinking of Karen as just a study buddy and began to realize what a wonderful woman she really was. In other words, I had fallen in love. Oh hell, what do I do now? Should I call her, should I wait for her to call me, what? Sounds like some love sick high school kid.
The next day was Saturday and I had no classes; I wouldn't have to see Karen until our class together on Tuesday and in the study group later on. All day, off and on, I thought about last night and Karen. Finally I decided on a plan of action. I would be friendly and act normal, but I would say nothing about the kiss. Let her bring up the subject if she wanted to. If not, I would act like it never happened. Other than that kiss, she had never indicated any romantic interest in me. Maybe my plan would keep either of us from being embarrassed.
There is an old saying, "Men plan and the gods laugh." They laughed like hyenas at my plan. Saturday night, I went to my little campus bar for a couple of beers, I was by myself and didn't expect to join anyone. Chuck and his pals were history and I had no one else to drink with. Didn't really need anybody else, I knew how to drink all on my own. I walked into the bar, got a beer and headed for the game room in the back. There right in front of me was Karen and a couple of other girls sitting at a table.
We saw each other at the same time, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Karen sat for just a few seconds, jumped up, ran to me and threw her arms around my neck. I was stunned; so much for all my planning. It is difficult to hold on to an armful of woman with a big draft beer in your hand, so I set the beer down and hugged her back. "Men plan and the gods laugh"; remember that.
That was the beginning of our romance. We were officially an item, a couple, dating, whatever. There wasn't anything more sexual than some kissing for about a month; three and a half weeks to be exact. The first time we were intimate may have been the most perfect I had ever had. After that, sleeping with anyone else would have been a waste of time.
The times that we slept together were comfortable, exciting, hot, passionate, and almost life changing; and that was every time and I do mean every time. We couldn't spend enough time together and not just for sex. Most of the time we just enjoyed being together and talking. I found myself liking her as well as being in love with her. I was working at a bar to help with college expenses, so our time was limited. We dated for the rest of our senior year and got engaged on graduation day.
We had decided on a fairly long engagement and planned to get married about a year and a half after graduation. This would give us time to put together a little nest egg. Karen was working at an insurance company and I had started at the warehouse. Things didn't work out quite that way.
About six weeks before our planned wedding, I went to a bachelor party for one of the guys in the old study group. I didn't consider him a close friend, but there were only going to be six or eight guys there. Not much of a turn out; so I went to the party to help him celebrate. The party was to take place at a hotel and start about 8:00. I thought a bar or strip club would have been better, but I was just a guest and not a very interested one at that. The first person I saw when I walked into the hotel room was my ex-friend Chuck. He was a close friend of the best man and it was him that had sent me the invitation to the party.
Chuck walked over to me and said, "Glad you came. Jerry (the groom) would have been sad if you didn't. I'm happy to see you too because I feel bad about what happened between us. Should have came to see you and apologized a long time ago. Guess my pride was stopping me, but anyway, I'm sorry. I hope we can be friends again."
"Okay Chuck, no big deal. We can let go of things in the past," I said. I had to say something, but I really didn't care if we were friends or not. I had the only friend I needed, Karen.
The bachelor party proceeded with the usual drinking, porn movies, bullshitting, and ragging on the groom to be. Around 10:00 Chuck answered a knock at the door and two young ladies entered the room. One look at them and the way they were dressed told you their occupation. STRIPPERS. They grabbed Jerry, put him in a chair in the middle of the room and began their act. You have all seen or heard about strippers at a bachelor party. These two didn't do anything new or outlandish.
I wasn't happy being there with strippers. Don't get me wrong, I like looking at the female form very much, and these two were worth looking at. I just didn't think Karen would appreciate me being there with these two young ladies. I had told her, that knowing Jerry, the most erotic thing would probably be some old porn movies.
The rest of the guys seemed determined to drink the county dry, but I had been nursing drinks all night. Just for the record, I had two, count them, two beers since I got there at 8:00. The one in my hand was number three and the last I intended to drink that night. About half an hour into the "show", I decided to leave, but I began to feel a little funny. I was having trouble focusing on things, trouble standing, and slurring my words. If I didn't know better, I would have thought I was drunk as a lord. I didn't have enough to be tipsy, much less drunk. Someone led me into one of the bedrooms in the suite and began to take off my clothes. I tried to stop them, but Chuck told me to relax. They were going to put me to bed so I could sleep it off before I went back home to Karen.
Morning arrived and I woke up with a pounding head. I normally don't get hangovers because I usually don't drink much. This must have been an exception; I had the king of all hangovers. It was strange; I remembered that I only drank three beers last night. I looked at the time, it was 11:00 A.M.; damn, past time to go. I got out of bed and realized that I was totally nude. Lying on the bed next to me was a pair of lace panties and I recalled that one of the strippers had been wearing them. I went into the bathroom and glanced at myself in the mirror as I headed for the toilet. SHOCK, STOP, LOOK.
The reflection from the mirror showed a guy with lipstick all over him. I had lipstick and lip prints all over my face, my chest, and down to my groin. Checking, I even saw some on my penis. What the hell? What had gone on last night? The last thing I remember was feeling woozy and being taken into the bedroom; someone was undressing me and telling me to sleep it off. That's it; the lights went out from there.
There wasn't anyone in the hotel suite and I got dressed and went back to my apartment. My shirt and my underwear were missing, but I made it home without anyone noticing the lack of a shirt under my jacket. Thank god, Karen wasn't there. I was able to get into the shower and get rid of the lipstick. After drying off, I got dressed and noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I hit the button to hear the messages, and wished I hadn't.
The message was from Karen. It had come in at 7:20 A.M. She began ranting and raving about me being a cheating S.O.B., the engagement was off, and she never wanted to see me again. What? The message was so long that it quit recording after three minutes. There was more on the second message. Same theme, I was a cheating asshole, she hates me, should have know better, yada yada yada. Same song and verse all over again. What the hell is going on? I had done nothing wrong, or had I? Remembering the panties in bed with me, the lipstick all over me, and the missing clothes, I had to wonder if I had been a cheating asshole.
It didn't feel right. I don't believe I would have cheated on Karen, no matter how drunk I had been. How could I have gotten drunk on three beers anyway? Even if I had gone to the dark side, how did Karen know about it so quickly? Her first message was at 7:20, her next one at 7:35. How had she found out about my supposed cheating by 7:20, when it would have happened about 11:00 or 11:30 the previous night? This whole thing didn't make sense. Something or someone was fucking with me; with both Karen and me.
I called Karen's place and her roomy answered and wasn't very friendly. Sue told me Karen was gone and she didn't know where.
"Bullshit, Sue, you know but you won't tell me. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without telling you. You are her best friend, you are going to be her Maid of Honor and she would have told you so you wouldn't worry. Where the hell is she Sue?"
"I can't tell you what I don't know Jack."
"Okay but if you hear from her ask her to call me please."
I waited for a couple of minutes and called Sue again. The line was busy. I knew she was calling Karen to tell her I had called. Don't know where she is my ass; I got into my truck and drove over to the apartment where Karen and Sue lived. I got out and stood by the entrance to the building and dialed their number with my cell phone. Sue answered the phone.
"Sue I know you know where Karen is. You have already called her to let her know about me calling. I'm coming over to your place to make you tell me where she is. Be there soon." Then I hung up.
As I expected a few minutes later, Sue came rushing out of the building. She had planned to be gone by the time I got there. Surprise, surprise, surprise, I grabbed her by the arm as she went by my hiding place. She squeaked when she saw it was me.
"Sue, enough bullshit. What is going on? Why did Karen leave? What is the meaning of the messages she left me? Please I need your help, the woman I love is accusing me of cheating, she has left town, and I'm in the dark. Please tell me, what is going on? Where is she?" By this time I had tears in my eyes, I was lost.
"Okay Jack. Karen told me that you screwed one or both of the strippers at the bachelor party. She said she had proof and she was breaking the engagement. I saw the pictures she had showing you in bed with both women. How could you Jack?"
"I couldn't, I wouldn't, and I didn't screw anyone at the bachelor party or anywhere else. Sue please, tell me where she is, I need to talk to her."
"Karen refused to tell me where she was going; she was afraid you could charm the info out of me. So she didn't tell me, she just left a phone number so I can call her."
"Is it her cell phone? I have called it already and she has it turned off."
"No, I think it's the phone where she is staying."
"Give me the number Sue. I'll find her and straighten this out."
"I can't, she made me promise not to help you. She would be mad if she knew I helped you."
"I won't tell her, I'll tell her I back tracked the number from the messages she left on my voice mail."
"Can you do that?"
"Damned if I know. If I talk to her and she doesn't believe me I'm screwed anyway. If she does believe me, she will be mad at you for keeping me away from her, so you're screwed too. Give me the number Sue."
Sue handed me an index card with a phone number and the name Karen on it. I checked the area code and it hit me. I know where she is.
"Thanks Sue, I would kiss you, but it would probably just get me in deeper. Thanks, you may have just saved our upcoming marriage."
I ran to my truck, jumped in and started out of town; I knew where Karen was. Karen's brother Randy lives in a little town about an hour west of us. That area code was the code for the district that small town is in. When I got to Moberly, I had no idea where Randy lived. So I started to play detective. I started with a local tavern, but just verified that Randy lived in that town. No matter where I went, all I could find was that Randy lived in Moberly.
I couldn't just come out and ask where he lived as the people would be suspicious, and I still wouldn't get the info I needed. They also might inform the police about the stranger checking up on Randy. Then I had what proved to be a brainstorm; I went to get my hair cut. Barbers know everyone and everything in a small town. They are better than bartenders as a source of information.
I got a haircut that I really didn't want. However after forty five minutes in the barber chair shooting the breeze with the old guy cutting my hair, I found out where Randy lived. I immediately went by the house to check it out. It wouldn't do to have Karen or Randy spot me. S he might leave again and this time I might not be able to find her.
After two days I realized no one was home. Randy may live there but not at the moment. I had also found out where Randy worked. A phone call to his job got the info that he was gone on vacation for ten days. No need to hang around if they weren't there, so I went back to my apartment. In ten days, I drove back to Moberly and to Randy's place. Now the lights were on and a car was in the driveway. Now what do I do? Should I knock on the door, should I call, should I just go away?
I decided after all my work I had to at least try knocking on the door. Maybe I would get lucky and Karen would answer the door. No such luck. This mountain opened the door and asked what I wanted. I guessed that this giant was Randy. I had never met him and didn't realize he was so big. Now I know why Karen had told Chuck that her brother would rip his head off.
Let me introduce you to Randy, he is an important part of this story. Randy is 6 feet 6, and weighs about 265 pounds. He isn't fat, just big. He had been a pro football player, but had to retire after screwing up his shoulder. His shoulder was now okay, but he couldn't play football anymore. In addition, he is very intelligent. He is Karen's only living relative; their parents were killed in an auto accident when Karen was 14. He was 19 at the time and raised Karen by himself.
Okay you get the idea, not only is Randy a giant, he is a smart giant. This was Karen's protector and the one running interference for her. Lord help me.
I told Randy I wanted to see Karen and he replied that she didn't want to see me.
"Yeah, I know who you are Jack. She told me you were the last person on earth she wanted to talk to. Frankly if it were up to me, I would kick your ass so bad, you couldn't talk to anyone. What you did really sucked. You should go."
"Randy, I know who you are too. I don't want to piss you off, but I'm not leaving until I talk to Karen. I didn't do what I am being accused of. You might as well kick my ass, but I'm not leaving."
So that's exactly what Randy did. He beat the hell out of me. If you call about four punches beating the hell out me, that's what he did. Then he called to police and had me arrested for trespassing. The police took me to the station, which doubled as a jail, and locked me up. The next morning, the let me out and told me to leave town. If I came back and caused more trouble they would send me to a jail in the city. I could have fought city hall on this one, but the cards were stacked against me. So I went back home, but I wasn't done yet.
A full court press was needed to get to Karen, so I started one. I called Randy's place every day and left messages. They had the number changed and I couldn't get the new one. I called her cell, but she got a new one very quickly; again I couldn't get the new number. I tried talking to Sue, but Karen hadn't given her the new numbers because Sue gave me Randy's number to begin with. There was one other number I could call.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and started to call Randy at his job. I knew this was dangerous, he might come to my house and finish the job of beating me to death. If he did, oh well; I had to talk to Karen. Randy stopped me calling his work by having the police make a visit to me. If I didn't stop, I was going to jail. I couldn't get to Karen if I was in jail, so I stopped.
The next step was a letter writing campaign. I wrote to Karen c/o Randy's house three times a week. I also wrote to her c/o Randy's job three times a week. Karen or Randy would mark the letters return to sender or no such person and have them returned to me. Didn't make any difference, I just put new postage on them and mailed them again. I spent a lot of money on postage during those weeks.
Then I tried a different strategy. If you send a registered letter, the person has to sign for it. It didn't work either; they refused delivery on those types of letters. I was pissing them off but not getting any closer to Karen. I did receive one letter from Karen, a package actually, the engagement ring I'd given her and a note to leave her alone. Doesn't look good for the home team folks.
Then I caught a break. A guy I knew told me he had seen Karen and some big guy at Smokey Joe's BBQ Palace two Saturday nights in a row. The guy who told me was Jerry; remember him from the bachelor party?
Jerry told me what happened at the party and for the first time I could breathe easier. I hadn't cheated on Karen. Jerry told me that Chuck had set me up to get even with me for not lying for him years ago. He said he should have been with Karen instead of me and if I had backed his story he would have been.
Jerry told me Chuck had spiked that last beer I had and paid the strippers to put lipstick prints all over me. Chuck was going to have the strippers screw me, but I was too messed up to get an erection, so he settled for the pictures. He had the strippers put lip prints on my underwear and shirt to show to Karen also. That's what happened to my clothes I thought.
Jerry said, "I'm sorry Jack. I didn't know what he was doing. I was so drunk by the time Chuck started messing with you that I didn't even know my own name."
"Its okay Jerry, you were not involved with his plan, I don't hold it against you. Thanks for the information you gave me, it will be a big help. Thank you very much."
"If I see Chuck should I say anything to him about our conversation?" Jerry asked.
"Yeah, tell him karma is a bitch and this time she has PMS. Tell him Hell is coming his way and I'm coming with it. Then you better pray for his soul."
The next Saturday night, I was sitting at the bar in Smokey Joe's waiting for Karen and Randy. They didn't show. The following week I was there again; this time I had better luck. I saw them come in and get a table. After they placed their order, I walked over to the table. Randy had his back to me and Karen was sitting across the table from him. When I got near them, Karen looked up and realized who was standing by their table. Her jaw dropped and her eyes opened wide.
I looked at Karen and said, "Honey, we really need to talk. I know it looks bad, but I can explain everything. Please talk with me."
She just shook her head and answered, "How did you find me? There is nothing to talk about. Go away and leave me alone."
"Come on Karen, even a criminal gets to defend himself in court. Don't I deserve at least that much consideration?"
"You don't deserve anything," she said. "You hurt me and broke my heart. Leave me alone."