THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2) (5 page)

Light shortly filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My burning eyes took in the dawn of another day in LA. Beautiful as usual, but not beautiful for me. In a few hours, I would be on a plane. Away from LA and the man I thought I loved with my body and soul. Except he’d betrayed me. I pulled the blanket over my head, and then forcing myself off the couch, I stumbled to the bedroom Blake and I shared. Or should I say once shared. My eyes stinging, I gazed at the king-sized bed where we had made beautiful, endless love countless times. There was no more “we.” Painfully, I retrieved a small suitcase from the walk-in closet and tossed it onto the duvet. I needed to pack. I was going back home. To be with my parents who needed me—but only a fraction of how much I needed them.

Halfway done packing, I heard the door to the apartment unlock. And then I heard it slam shut. A shiver skittered though me. Blake! I continued tossing a week’s worth of clothing into my suitcase. While I hadn’t informed HR of my sudden leave of absence, I was positive I could convince them I could work from Boise, given my stellar job performance. MY SIN-TV ratings were though the roof. And right now, most of our telenovelas were in post-production, not immediately demanding my attention. I just wasn’t going to tell them that most of my time would be spent looking for a new job.

I heard a shuffle of heavy footsteps approach. I ignored them. I was almost packed. And then he called out to me.

“Jen.” His voice sounded worn and hoarse.

I refused to acknowledge him and continued with my packing. Every muscle clenched. The pain was so great. Treacherous tears cascaded down my face.

“Jen,” he murmured again, this time, his voice a desperate croak.

I couldn’t help but face him as he staggered my way. I soaked him in with my watering eyes. He looked awful. His hair was a wild mess, and his complexion had a ghoulish green cast. His suit was wrinkled, his creased shirt opened, and his tie hung loosely and unevenly around his neck.

“Where are you going?” he rasped, eyeing my suitcase.

“Home.” I stabbed the word at him and impulsively tugged at my engagement ring. My finger swollen, the damn thing wouldn’t budge. I was going to have to mail it to him.

He gazed at me imploringly, his bloodshot eyes blinking for an explanation.

“I’m moving out, Blake.”

“Why, tiger? Why?”

I answered his question with another a question. A Jewish thing to do, so I’d learned. “Where were you last night?”

He shook his head. “I don’t fucking know.”

Bullshit.
I tossed my cell phone at him. He caught it…barely. His reflexes were not what were they normally were. Of course. Kat had fucked his brains out.

“Just click the first e-mail. And then any attachment. I’m sure they’ll trigger your memory.”

My eyes stayed fixed on him as he did as asked. His glazed eyes grew round.

Raking his hand though his disheveled hair, he groaned, “What the fuck?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is I have no recollection of being with the bitch.”

The angry way he said “bitch” struck a deep chord. His gaze met mine. I swiped at my tears.

“Honestly, tiger, I have no memory of the last twenty-four hours. Everything’s a blank.”

His sunken eyes bore into me like a puppy looking for love. I searched them, seeking the truth.

“I swear to God, Jen. You have to believe me.”

My inner conscience went into war-mode. There was the me who distrusted and the me who wanted to believe. My mind was a battlefield. But, one by one, the soldiers of distrust were being knocked down by the true believers. A mental massacre led by my courageous heart. I cupped Blake’s stubbled face in my hands and faced him squarely. His sister’s warning about Kat resounded in my head.
Don’t let her manipulate you
.

“Blake, I believe you.” My voice was soft but solid. This was a big step forward for me in the trust department. Dr. Williams, my support group leader, would be proud of me.

He blinked his eyes in disbelief. “You do?”

“I do. Are you okay?”

“I feel like fucking crap. Like I have a major hangover. Everything’s so hazy.”

My poor baby. I wrapped my arms around him and drew him close to me. He held me against him, my head resting on his heart. The heart that belonged to me.

“I think the bitch must have gotten me drunk, but I seriously don’t remember what drink I ordered. Or how many.”

“Did you blackout?

“I must have. But I’ve never done that before.”

I digested Blake’s words and his condition. He had some form of amnesia. In my rape support group, there were a couple of girls who unknowingly had been drugged at a bar and had been date raped. When they woke up naked in a strange bed or in a dark alley, their rapist was long gone, and they had no memory of what had happened.

I had a hunch. Fucking Kat had drugged him and virtually raped him. What a sick chick! I was going to prove it and have my revenge.

“Come on, baby. Let me give you a bath. And then we’re going to your doctor.”

“I don’t need to go to a doctor. I just need to rest and be with you.”

“Baby, I want to make sure you’re all right. And I have a theory I want to prove. It’s going to take a test.”

Reluctantly, Blake agreed. I helped him off with his clothes and then led him to the bathtub.

Blake

I
felt fucking violated by the fucking bitch. Dirty, used, and abused even though I couldn’t remember a goddamn thing. The thought of Kat having her mouth any place on my body, let alone my dick, sickened me. I only belonged to one woman. My tiger who was kneeling by the tub and washing away the vague memories of last night. How could I let myself drink my way to submission and oblivion? Hadn’t I learned my lesson? I leaned my head against the tub and squeezed my eyes closed, soaking in the guilty pleasure of the tender touch of the woman I loved. And could have lost.

“How do you feel?” asked Jennifer, helping me out of the tub. She draped a large fluffy towel around me.

“Fucked up.”

The bath had helped only a little. Waves of nausea still rolled in my chest; my head was spinning, and I was experiencing coordination problems. Even buttoning my jeans was a challenge. Jen helped me get re-dressed and insisted on driving me to our family doctor’s office in Beverly Hills. God bless her. I was seriously in no condition to drive.

I tried to think straight. How was I going to handle this mess? Pointing the finger at Kat had all kinds of repercussions—from an unwanted scandal to a rift between my mother and hers. The wedding itself could be jeopardized.

“Jen, I don’t want to go through with this,” I protested as she pulled her Kia into the parking structure of the medical building where Dr. Klein, an internist, had an office. He had been our family physician for years and had a very close relationship with my parents as well as my sister.

“You have to. For yourself. And for me,” she retorted in search of a parking spot. “We need proof that Kat drugged you.”

“Drugged me?” My voice rose an octave.

“Yes.” She shot the word at me, without giving me a chance to contest it.

“What do I have to do?” I could take a bullet for Jen, but the thought of a long needle being inserted into my flesh freaked me out. I could be such a wuss.

“Not much. Just pee in a little cup.”

I inwardly sighed with relief, but the outstanding issues weighed on my chest. “What if it comes back positive?”

“Then we’ll know.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.

“But what if Dr. Klein starts asking all kinds of questions?”

“You’re just going to tell him that you don’t remember a thing.”

“Are you going to tell Kat’s mother?” That would certainly create hell.

“Not if I don’t have to. But I’m going to need your help.”

My tiger shot me a mischievous smile as she pulled into a parking spot. Somehow, I knew her creative juices were flowing.

*

Dr. Klein’s office was packed, but he was able to squeeze me in with only a short wait. Jen accompanied me to the examining room and made me take a seat on the examining table. She sat down in a close by armchair.

“Do you want to play nursie?” I asked, my sense of humor trickling back. Perhaps to mask my stress.

“You wish.”

Oh did I. The thought of her in a tight little nurse’s uniform giving me a physical—touching me everywhere that needed touching—sent a tiny jolt to my cock. At least, my manhood was intact. Or so I thought. Maybe next Halloween I’d buy her a costume and I could live out my fantasy.

My fantasy came to an abrupt halt when Dr. Klein strode into the small sterile room. A kindly looking man in his mid fifties, he was holding a clipboard and wore a stethoscope around his neck.

“Well, hello, Blake. What brings you here today?” He gave me the once-over. “You look a little under the weather. A touch of the flu?”

Jen chimed in. “No, Doctor. He just needs to give you a urine sample, and we need the results back today if possible.”

Dr. Klein lifted a brow. “And you may be?”

“Jennifer McCoy. Blake’s fiancée. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jennifer. My wife and I got your lovely wedding invitation. We’ll be there.”

Jennifer smiled. “Wonderful.”

Dr. Klein winked at her. “So did our boy have a little too much sex and get a urinary tract infection?”

“Not exactly, Doctor,” I replied. “But I need to have my pee tested for anything unusual.”

Doctor Klein’s eyes narrowed, creating a deep crease between them. “Blake, are you doing drugs? Cocaine? Ecstasy?”

“No, sir. But I think I may have been drugged.”

“That’s very serious, Blake. Can you tell me more?”

I remembered Jen’s instructions and shook my head. “I don’t remember a thing.”

With resignation, he took my blood pressure and then listened to my heart. His brows furrowed. “Your heartbeat is erratic and your blood pressure is abnormally low.”

Fuck. Maybe I was going to die.

He put the stethoscope to my back and asked me to take a few deep breaths.

“And your breathing is somewhat labored. How do you feel?”

“To be honest, I feel like crap. Sluggish, nauseous, and dizzy.”

“Anything else?”

Again, Jen chimed in. “He’s having difficulty with his motor skills.”

The doctor listened intently. “Like what?”

“Like unbuttoning his jeans.”

The doctor shot her a wry look. “I would imagine Mr. Burns is usually very good at that.”

Jennifer’s face flushed while I let out a small laugh.

“Very well.” He ambled over to the sink counter and retrieved a lidded plastic cup sealed in a sanitary wrapper. He handed it to me. “The bathroom is down the hall. I’d like you to fill up the cup at least halfway.”

I’d been through this routine for my annual physicals. I had to hold my big cock and aim. The rim of my dick was bigger than that of the cup. This time, I didn’t want to do it alone.

“Um, uh, Doctor. Jennifer’s right. I’m having a lot of trouble buttoning and unbuttoning my jeans. Can she come with me?”

“I don’t see why not. But both of you be sure to wash your hands first. When you’re done, just print your name on the label with the marker that’s on the shelf, and leave it there. We’ll try to get the results back to you in a few hours. There’s a urologist I know who owes me a favor.”

I jumped off the examining table. “It’s pee time.”

Jen looked at me sheepishly. “Do I really have to come?”

“Yes. You have to come.” I gestured toward the door, my very naughty mind already back in business.

A short minute later, we were huddled in the small, functional bathroom. After we washed our hands, I tore off the cellophane wrapping of the cup and removed the lid.

“Jen, this is going to be a team effort. Unbutton my jeans.”

Silently, she did as bid. I’d gone commando. The little rise I’d gotten from my nursie fantasy was long gone. My heavy cock hung low.

“Now baby, grip my dick and aim it into the cup.” Her warm hand clamped the lower third. There was a lot more I wanted her to do with it than play fire hydrant, but truthfully, I wasn’t sure I could get it up. A terrifying thought sent a shudder through me. Fuck. Did I have permanent damage?

“Am I doing it okay?” Jen asked hesitantly, breaking into my disconcerting thoughts.

“You’re doing just great, baby. Here goes.”

On the next breath, I shot a stream of pee into the cup. It wasn’t quite the same as shooting my load with Jennifer’s hand wrapped around my cock, but it felt good. I’d never peed with a girl before. It was strangely sexy. I wanted to reward Jen for believing me. After labeling the cup and sealing it with the lid, I placed it on a shelf with a row of other used cups. Jen commended me.

“Good job, Blake. We should wash up.”

I squirted some of the liquid soap onto my palms. Jen followed suit, but while she did, I folded my arms around her tiny waist.

In a rapid heartbeat, I unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs. My small motor skills were improving. I slipped a soaped-up hand under the band of her lacy panties and then lubricated her folds. I watched her lips part and her head arch back in the mirror above the sink.