Summary:
A man running a quiet barber shop notices new clients who have been betrayed by powerful men who target their wives. These clients receive help from a hidden group that gathers information and provides support. One client, Evan, learns his wife has left him for another man. He eventually takes direct action to remove her from his life and gains a new role within the group. Another client, Michael, faces a similar situation when his wife becomes involved with the same type of man, but he initially refuses assistance.
Here is your Story: My Cuckold Wife Left for the Wolf and I Got Revenge
Read “Under the Brim” first. Everyone pays attention to the man holding the razor. It’s a profession where they literally hand their lives over to the stranger standing over them. I always wear a long white coat. Clean. Confident. It shows blood easily if there ever was any. Nobody looks under the coat.
When a new patron comes in the shop, they stop. They look around. They want to see a steady hand and repeat customers. I had a man grab my arm once during a shave just to test me. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t miss a whisker. Didn’t scrape the skin. Didn’t nick the lip of the man under the cool towel. The guy who tested me was satisfied. He should have been more cautious. He didn’t look under the coat. He ended up under a hot towel. He didn’t see another dawn.
Under a cool towel it’s refreshing. It’s relaxing. Pleasant. Comfortable. Nobody’s harmed under a cool towel. Under a hot towel it’s toxic. Deadly. Suffocating. Final. Nobody wants to look under the hot towel.
The Shop’s Quiet Code
The shop is part service hub and part social gathering place. Once considered “for” the community, it became the community after the social upheaval caused by the metal storm a couple decades ago. The coffee is always on. Lenny from the bakery next door always leaves a box of fritter nuggets and donut holes. Help yourself if you’re hungry, but leave a few dollars in the jar if you want to come back.
Those who patronize the shop come for different reasons. A trim. A shave. A cup. A conversation. A complaint. A reckoning. A revenge. Those who come to check out the shop keeper, to test me, those are the wolves. When the wolves come, the regulars are silent and blend into the background.
The wolves are among the powerful who make things happen. The movers and shakers. They dress in bright colors. They run the show. They target the weak. They fuck the wives. They are so dumb. They don’t look under the coat.
New guy came in recently. He had the card. No name. No number. Just a partial address. He was told maybe he could get some help here. We asked if he needed a hot cup, a sweet bite, a trim, a shave. Or something more. Special. He wasn’t timid. He wasn’t weak. He was wounded by someone he once trusted. He noticed the grey men gathered nearby. He wanted to look under the brims but he was smart enough not to. He looked at the coat instead. He wasn’t ready to look under it. He left. He will be back.
Men like this haven’t known for long, but now they know. Their hearts are broken. Their lives a mess. But their eyes are open. They are cuckolds or soon could be. Their wives have strayed or are on the edge. They don’t know what to do, where to turn, who to trust. The men in grey take note as the wolves howl their latest conquests. The hostile takeover of another’s business, or wife, or daughter. Notes are passed. Whispers exchanged. Dots connected. Plans formed.
New guy is back. He is ushered into the back room where all is explained and nothing revealed. He is all in. Another wolf with another wife. The Greyhounds gather intel and heartbreak. The white coats provide logistics and supplies. The cuckolds determine fates and finality.
New guy is tested. She looks good naked. Wolfie likes to video his sluts then blackmail them to become one of his whores. Her legs spread as the wolf takes his stolen place between her thighs. His ass rises and falls with boring regularity. She is hungry for it. Pump. Pump. Pump.
She cries out that she is cumming. She thinks she owes it to him. He likes to take it from her. She gives with all she has. She offers her body. She offers her daughters’ bodies. Ravenous wolves take all. The girls are swiftly spirited away, far away. They will make him a fortune.
He smiles his crooked smile at the double meaning. But first he samples them all.
The oldest is stoic and determined, but she ultimately falls in line. She falls on her knees. She opens her mouth. The middle girl doesn’t hesitate. On her back she eagerly accepts his cock in her lithe body and fucks him as hard as he fucks her. He considers keeping her. The youngest is timid, but mom shows her the way. She holds her tight as the wolf violates her from behind. The way an animal would.
New guy didn’t need to see this. He wanted to. He had to, to regain his man card and restore his self respect. That’s what we do. We are restoration specialists. And we start by cutting the cancers out of the lives of innocents.
New guy has decided to exact the ultimate revenge on the wife and the wolf. He’s doing it for that dad and those girls. He is determined. He is justified. No one disagrees. Mom slut is not long for this world. As she and wolfie bask in the afterglow of another sex soaked afternoon, she smokes.
She doesn’t remember her husband. She doesn’t ask about her girls. Their daughters. A grey cloud descends upon them. No one looks under the brim. They don’t see the threat even when they see the white coat. They look past it, not under it. They are subdued under hot towels and made ready for travel.
New guy wants this. New guy is not here. New guy cannot be implicated if he isn’t here. He is away, far away, rescuing that dad’s family from the network of traffickers auctioning off those children like chattel. The girls are retrieved and returned. Reunited with their father. Confused then angry. Angry then livid. They want their pound of flesh.
There is nothing left of mom and wolfie but a photo of pretty fireflies in pink and red, yellow, green, and blue, with an ominous pink mist hovering slightly above. When wife and wolf first see the pretty landscape below them, they smile. Then they realize what’s happening. They hold each other tight as they fall.
Restoration and Reckoning
New guy has a name. He is Evan. He was cucked by his wife Emily. Emily did not end up a pink mist. Those cases are extreme and rare. It takes a lot of time and coin to fly a crew across the ocean and back. Emily ended up clutching a single memory. Her honeymoon photo is all that is left after her world collapsed. After Evan grew a pair, threw her cheating ass out, and divorced her. After a Greyhound heard the siren call of a braying ass. Took notes. Arranged the interview. And the intervention.
Evan is different. His wife’s punishment was delivered by Evan himself. That is usually against the rules, but in his new suit he blended. She didn’t look under the brim. She wasn’t intercepted by a white coat. She took the photos offered and realized she was fucked and homeless.
Wolfie wouldn’t answer anymore. We made him understand it was in everyone’s best interest if he forgot all about her. Then Evan misted him. Wolfie’s businesses are now under new management. A Greyhound possessing an MBA could prove useful here. Profits are divided and shared among the members of the “Under the Radar” collective and the victims of the wolves.
How is this legal? He signed the bill of sale himself. Just before he went to see relatives back east. Relatives? Yes. Far east. Long dead.
Evan now had a larger purpose and filled his role with stealth and cunning. He was a machinist second class. Which meant he corrected the miscalculations handed down from his superior machinist first class. A wannabe wolfie. Evan swallowed his resentment. Turned it into friendship with his superior.
Corrected calculations were handed back and credited to his boss’ engineering prowess. Evan held a PHD in Civil Engineering, so the calculations needed to keep the machines calibrated and working properly were done in his head. In this time jobs were not earned but assigned. You accepted your assignment or else.
You dressed drab and did menial duty. A system devised by the wolves to keep control over the people.
Evan kept tabs. Collected names. Learned about Wolf Dens where they gathered and compared their notes. Who knows this woman? Yeah, she’s the wife of. She was in my bed last night. High fives all around. Share? He don’t, but I will. If the price is right. Mirth and merriment. They felt they could speak freely in the den. An odd comparison to the barber shops of old.
He was seen on the bridge, lingering too long for a pause to take in the view. Jumper? Perhaps. Stop him. Help him. Bring him to the shop. Get him a cup. Feed him a sweet. Donate the coin. Let him rest. Let him talk. Heartbreak over her. No proof. Only whispers. Only suspicion. Nothing concrete. Minnow. Her name.
Suddenly he tries to hide. Behind a plant. Behind a Greyhound. Behind anything close. New wolf at the door. Checking out the shop. Checking out the keeper. Ignores the greys. Won’t even think about looking under the brims. Everyone pays attention to the man holding the razor. Even the new wolf in town.
Looks him up. Looks him down. This one is different. He doesn’t look past the white coat, nor does he look under it. He studies it. He studies the man wearing it. This one is different. Lethal. He will be known as Lethal.
The new guy, Minnow’s husband, is taken to the back room where some things are explained and nothing revealed. This time is different. That’s the guy. He’s the one that turned my Minnow’s head. Caught her eye. Made me look bad. Made her look back. One of the greys asks if he knows this for sure. He said it was all suspicion. It’s concrete now. Once I saw his face, now I know his name. Michael. He goes by Michael.
The greys ask if he’s met him. In bed I have. Minnow’s different when he is there with us. The greys want him to explain that. We were making love just this morning. When she started talking. Fuck me, Michael. Oh God, fuck me. Yes. Yes. Just like that. Like you always do. The greys point out she was having sex with him, calling out another man’s name.
That goes beyond suspicion. No. Not that simple. My name is Michael, too. But she wasn’t making love with me. She was fucking that man. That Michael.
The greys look at one another trying to keep up. Trying to understand. Michael went on. It was in her eyes. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking past me. She was seeing him. I wasn’t even there in her mind. She was actually reaching out to him instead of holding me. It’s not the first time.
She’s done this before. I didn’t see it then. A man knows. He sees the signs. He gets the signals. Eventually he puts the pieces together. He shed his first tears as the enormity of his problem came into focus.
What next? Can this marriage be saved? Pink misting is extreme and the last choice if all other options had been exhausted. Michael and Minnow were a long way from that. Michael doesn’t think that man has wormed his way into Minnow yet. Into her head yes. Into her bed? Maybe not. Probably not. Maybe. Michael is wishful thinking at best.
Time goes on. This time is different. Tragic. We usually get bits and pieces. We stitch together realities from whispers and coincidences, chance meetings, changed schedules, changed patterns. Something’s different. He didn’t know at first. He watched. He waited. He cried. We collected intel from the greys.
Sadly we watched the video of Minnow out on a date with the wolf. We learned the wolf had other videos. Minnow naked in his bed. Minnow screaming his name as they fuck and fuck and fuck and fuck. She practically lives with him now. Michael is crushed. We offer. He refuses our help.
The wolf is growing distant. Minnow needs help. Minnow is pregnant. Michael is defeated. We offer. He refuses our help. You can lead a horse to water.
This time was different. This time is desperate. We had nothing under the coat to help the first Michael, nor to hurt the second. Nobody look under the coat.
