Wife The Doctor
- 2 years ago
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My First Wife The Doctor free porn video
This is an ‘I think I love someone else’ story. No sex to speak of in it. This is copyrighted material. Other sites do not have my permission to post or otherwise use this story. Like all of my stories, it is fiction.
My First Wife the Doctor
I married a doctor…so we must be on Easy street, you’re thinking? Big money rolling in, vacations on the drug companies? Not so. I got in at the wrong end of her career. Let tell you a story.
I met Karen when we were both going to different community colleges to save money. She was smart, even brilliant and could talk well about almost anything she had ever read about. She was also naive, maybe innocent or trusting would be the better word. Not so good with practical things.
The tuition at junior colleges is a fraction of what it is at the four year institutions and money was a big consideration. My dad is a general contractor with a grade school education, and further study at the school of hard knocks. Trouble was he kept getting hard knocks. He got a lot of work, but didn’t make much money at it.
Of course I had to work for him as a kid, and I thought I could see all of his flaws. He was a bull-of-the-woods guy. Didn’t listen well, and got rid of people who were, in his opinion, too smart for themselves, and often smarter than he was. Unfortunately he didn’t realize he needed smart people, and generally had at least one more job going on than he could manage by himself. As a result it was the rare job that came in under budget and he self limited his company’s growth.
I was not going to follow his example. Getting an education was my ticket out. As it happened Karen and I met in summer school a couple of months before we were both transferring to U Mass. I took advantage of a self directed studies program and took some mechanical and civil engineering courses, chemistry, history, civics…you get the drift. I took overloads because it didn’t cost more, and as long as I got a B or better, I was happy. With that scatter gun of courses I learned to write, think linearly, and to spot the heart of an issue. I knew a great deal in areas that interested me, and fuck all in areas that didn’t.
Karen was taking pre-med took a light load and went for all A’s, which is good for doctors, we don’t want a doctor that knows 70-80% about what’s wrong with you. I on the other hand, looked at college as a trade school for life. I wanted to be the contractor my dad never could. I wanted to know all that I needed to know, and a bit more besides.
We both graduated with bachelor degrees together. Karen was really lucky. With no relatives in the medical field, and no influential recommendations, a medical school in Philadelphia accepted her and gave her a modest scholarship. We moved to Philadelphia, got married that summer. I was out from under my dad, trading his iron yoke for her velvet one.
Her father clearly saw her stellar future and certain of my eventual bankruptcy and failure, impressed upon her the importance of a prenuptial agreement. He also gave us a hefty wedding present of 20% down payment on the house of our choice. Make that her choice.
What the agreement said was basically what she owned and/or earned were hers personally. If we divorced for any reason, no alimony or child support and we kept what we had earned for ourselves. So the wedding gift was really to her alone, and as he thought we were not likely to buy a house anytime soon, the gift was off in the indefinite future. No one ever accused him of being free with his money.
I agreed, but for reasons of symmetry, I insisted it be changed so as to be the same for both of us. She couldn’t get child support, alimony or my money. I also suggested that we not be responsible for each other’s debts. She balked at that because she had huge school debts, but I pointed out that if I, a contractor, went belly up, and the creditors got through the corporate shield, she could be liable for that debt too. End of argument.
Her dad was delighted that his family was protected from my unsuitability. Well…fuck him! We were living 300 miles away and I would only see him infrequently. We started our married life with separate credit cards and checking accounts. As the worldly one, I ended up running the finances, making money, doing the bills and signing the checks, hers and mine. I also set up a system to track our income as to where it went. She earned very little during school, so the income division was sort of theoretical.
Philadelphia was good to me. I found a good job with a contractor, and spent two years learning the area, and supporting the two of us. Of course she was wracking up huge (to me at least) student loans, all of which she would have to start paying off after graduation. But don’t worry, be happy…doctors make big money. I launched out on my own against my wife’s council. My father in law called me a fool. I can’t really hold it against him as my dad said the same thing.
I am proud to say I made money from the start. It helped that Karen and I matched each other in the number of hours we devoted to career. It was a prodigious effort both of us were making. Time spent together was precious. As I could be more flexible in my hours, I made sure that I was around whenever she had time off. It was hard, but we were young, strong, and in love. She timed her pregnancy so she would deliver a month after graduation, and hit her target within two weeks.
A lovely baby girl. Her residency was worse than med school, so far as time demands was concerned. She was an underpaid slave at the hospital, a handmaiden devoted to the Asclepius, the god of medicine. I deliberately mispronounced it as ‘handmaiden to the god of A. syphilis, and opined the A was for Alfred, Fred for short. So Fred Syphilis became the guy who was causing all of the screw ups and problems in medicine.
Looking back, I’m not sure that our marriage really survived her residency. You read about residents fucking each other on the night shift? I’m sure she did not, because she was so exhausted day after day, the only difference between fucking her and a corpse in the morgue would have been the temperature. It was a hard, lonely time for me, made bearable by my daughter, and a demanding, growing business. Unfortunately we got use to the other not being around.
Her internship and later her medical practice easily consumed 55 to 60 hours per week. Plus the hours were erratic. I continued to take care of our daughter. I keep a day minder diary for both work and home life. It was a job keeping track of all of the scheduled stuff for my daughter, my wife and myself. Day care was essential of course. It really bothered me that my daughter was with strangers so much. I moved my office to a storefront I bought cheap, across the street from the day care center.
I hired a grandmotherly woman with the grandmotherly name of Mildred, as my office manager. While I needed her around full time to answer the phone and such, there really wasn’t enough work to keep her occupied. It was her idea that she would watch my daughter for the last three hours of the work day. My daughter was delighted, and so was I.
Emancipation day came for the wife with the end of her internship. We spent a couple of weeks at the shore, before she started in as a family physician in a small practice in the near suburbs.
She was hot to buy a house. The banks and mortgage brokers were offering no money down mortgages, no credit check. She showed them the pay stub, and picked out a new house. I had little choice as she pointed out, it was her money. She wanted a new Mc Mansion and I wanted a pre war house, one built between1900-1940. We got the new, cheaply built box about a 45 minute commute from my office.
Her father’s wedding present became her end of residency present as well. Two for one! It amounted to a $30,000 down payment on a house. It was a goodly chunk of money for him but his daughter had stars
in her eyes, and wanted a $700,000 mansion. His contribution just about covered taxes and closing costs. At 7% interest, the mortgage was $4,500 per month, plus taxes heat, upkeep, car, and various insurances boosted the monthly bill to $6,500! Her student loan payments were another $5,000 a month. I tried to get her to lower her sights to a more modest $250-$300,000 house.
‘But Honey, this is what I have been working for all these years.’
‘After years of eating beans, you want to spend everything on a house and continue eating beans? That’s nuts! We’re young! Now’s the time to enjoy life, not be tied hand and foot to a huge house.’
I lost. Still worse, over the next three years she took out equity loans to furnish it with ostentatious, poor quality, furniture. It galled me that the fine traditional furniture I inherited from my Uncle all hand made by him was relegated to my den and a spare bedroom.
Going this far into debt was also nuts. I watch debt like a hawk in my business as under capitalization can bring you down quicker than anything except stupidity.
Business was good. No! It was very good! I was doing well, and I wanted more time with my family, so I decided to move my office closer to my home.
Opportunity knocked at my door. I was working on a big project restoring a great Gatsby Era mansion, I had billed over $350,000 to date, and that was just the structural and exterior work.
Unfortunately, the owner went down in the financial debacle, and had to sell. I had a mechanics lien on the house, and he didn’t have the money to clear it. He still owed me $110,000, although about thirty of that was for materials contacted for but not yet needed.
There was a lovely gate house and carriage shed on the property about 10 minutes from my house. It sat more or less by itself on an acre of land that was mostly rocky hillside, but with a nice view. It was connected to the main estate by an unused 25 foot right of way that snaked up the hillside. It was easy to cut this property off from the mansion. The buildings looked to be in much worse condition than they were, so I offered to buy it for what he owed me plus $45,000 cash.
He jumped for it, and I finished up the work I had in progress and set up a straw company to purchase the property. I converted the carriage shed to offices, but as it was a historical property, I kept the original exterior, including the arched double doors. This also preserved the option of using it in the future as a garage. With my new office habitable, I began renovating the gate house. In the months ahead, when a crew had slack time, I put them to work on the house.
It was typical of my wife’s ability to tune out my business doings, when I showed her the new office, she assumed I was renting it. She was uninterested, didn’t ask a single question, not even how much I was paying. She said the place looked old fashioned, and they should pull it down. Build something nice!
Sad that such a really big thing in my life would be something so uninteresting to her. That was the day I seriously wondered about my wisdom in having married her. I thought about ending the marriage. Well, there are ups and downs in all marriages. I made sure I praised her and paid attention to her, and hoped for the best.
Socially, we had a number of couples we enjoyed, some doctors, some not. Mostly from the comfortably off business or civic leaders, some non-profit managers. Well, while not rich, I guess we certainly weren’t really middle class. If you didn’t know the debt load she carried, you’d think we had it made. As you might expect some doctors couldn’t see themselves socializing with me, and some engineers and business types couldn’t relate to my wife ‘The Doctor’.
Gradually, however, my wife’s preferences in social activities revolved mostly around members of the medical community. We found a few couples agreeable to us both. I was also beginning to sense a shift in our relationship. More and more, I was the home/family support person. Any change in her schedule, I had to adjust mine and cover for her. It was what I had always done, only more so.
I had to drop what I was doing and pick up my daughter because The Doctor was running late…She would agree to do something with me, or our daughter, and at the last minute renege.
I agree a doctor is important to lots of people but we were her family. It was obvious who came first. Mildred was not complaining, but she was doing more kid care than I thought appropriate.
It is the nature of modern life to be interrupted by others. I get calls from jobsites and suppliers after hours. I have two cell phones, one work, one personnel…my wife carries a pager and a g3 internet phone. Easily 99% of the after hours calls I get are settled right then, or in a couple of minutes on the phone. For years, other than those times she was on call, the same was true of my wife, but! In late summer it changed.
Her pager would go off, and she would have to drop everything and run off to the hospital. Part of being a doctor, wouldn’t you say? But she was a family physician, in a largish practice, and they took turns being on call. It certainly seemed she was taking more than her share of turns. One Saturday in late September we both spent a hot afternoon doing yard work and outside house maintenance.
Dirty and smelly, we showered up before supper. I got turned down for a quickie, but with a promise for a good tumble later that evening. Works for me. We were sitting on the patio after supper, having coffee, listening to the happy calls and shrieks of children at play. This is the life, I thought. About 7:30 her beeper went off. Karen in exasperation looked at it, stood up and said,
‘I have to go in to the hospital. I better change first.’
She looked nice, clean white t shirt with a big red cross and saying Give Blood for Life! Appropriate, Huhh? White shorts, and red high gloss sneakers made her elegantly casual.
‘You just showered and changed into fresh cloths. Why would you change them again when you’ll still have to change yet again into scrubs when you get there?’
She looked distracted:
‘Oh, that’s right. Ayah. Well, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be home when I get back.’
A little after 8 my daughter Kerri came in tired and dirty from heavy play,
‘You are such a mess, we might as well take you out for ice cream. Then a bath for you!’ Squeals of laughter! Followed by a call to Jennifer, the best friend of the summer. We had to drive over to the other side of town, no Dairy Queen for us, because only Smedley’s Ice Cream Parlor, which served home made ice cream would do. Girl after my own heart.
I was sitting on a picnic bench out in front of Smedley’s, licking a pistachio nut ice cream cone, casually admiring the Moms in their summer minimalist outfits, when I saw a truly rare sight. An Indian motor cycle, the Chief model, circa 1948! Brilliant yellow with white skirts, and shining chrome. It rumbled by with a delightful throaty burble of exhaust new cycles can only dream of imitating.
I recognized it because, my older brother had a detailed die cast model of one years ago, and I covet it to this day. The driver was a fattish guy slumped in the seat in matching jeans and jean jacket with black leather boots. The woman was riding Pillion and tightly hugging the rider.
She had on an American flag helmet and face shield, a white Red Cross Give Blood tee shirt, blue jeans, and shiny red track shoes! The summer evening was cooling now, she’ll wish she’d worn a jacket before the evening’s done.
Acting carefree and happy after that was difficult. I doubt the children noticed my mood as they more than made up for in laughter and gaiety. I felt ashamed to say that I was glad I had forgotten to mail her quarterly student loan payment on Friday. About 2/3 of that money had come from my funds. It would have been throwing money away. That was also the end
of me paying for anything that was hers.
Having to pay the full load for her house, car and stuff would drain her checking account and the savings account attached to it in record time. I kept paying most of her bills, but used her checking account exclusively.
Monday morning I hired a divorce lawyer. He promised to look over the pre nupt agreement, but he knew the lawyer who wrote it and his expectation was that it would be tight…adding that anything can be broken. Documentation of the adultery was unnecessary, but it might help as a bludgeon if there was a child custody issue, but it was an outside chance in any event. Moms almost always get the kid.
The second call was to a friend of mine who was into antique autos. Indian Chief motorcycles are both valuable and rare. Joy riding one is nearly a Jay Leno sort of thing. No hesitation from him, it was almost certainly owned by Dr. Alfred Hale. I didn’t know him but knew the name. Big shot at the hospital. Well, that cleared that up.
The third call was to an Investigator recommended by my insurance agent for my business. Samier Patel was the guy’s name, Sam for short. I saw no reason for him to follow Wifey. I was reasonably sure she was only fucking one person. Alfred Syphilis Hale might be another story, and I wanted revenge. I told him I wanted the goods on Dr. Hale, and gave him what I knew.
I expected to have to pay extra for prompt work, but things must have been slow for the guy. He cut me a break and promised to get right on it. I paid $3,000 deposit for the first week to get him started, asking for photos, audio, and video if possible. I also suggested he cover his tracks well as Hale had the big bucks to be trouble when he realized he was being fucked with.
The forth call was to one of my site managers telling him to start pulling workmen in we needed to finish the gate house at least enough to get an occupancy permit.
Other than that it was a routine day.
I tried to keep everything normal. I guessed I needed about two to three weeks to conveniently turn out the lights on our marriage.
That evening during our quiet time drinking a cup of coffee, Wifey announced:
‘Ill be going to a medical conference in New York Friday and Saturday night the week after next. It’s sponsored by Merck, and I need to go.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘One of New York’s best hotels. The Green Point Plaza. God knows what it would cost normally!’
‘Hmmp!’ I pulled out my I phone and looked it up.
‘You’re kidding! Green Point is in Brooklyn and so’s the hotel. It looks OK, but nothing special. Here, look at the picture. $110 a night!’
‘L’me see! There must be some mistake. That’s a nothing. Not a Crown Plaza or anything! Oooh! I must ‘a got the hotel wrong. I’ll double check. Anyway, I’m sure the date is correct.’
That night we had marital sex for the first time in god knows when. I consider it a personal weakness that I initiated it. I had fished out a condom just like in the old days and rolled it on just before entry, and she never noticed.
The Wednesday before her conference weekend, was very eventful. I met with my lawyer, to go over the draft of the divorce papers. He suggested we get my business financials under cover, so if the pre-nupt agreements (which he thought were air tight) were somehow breached, I wouldn’t loose so much. He had doubts about the child support, pre nupt of no pre nupt. I protested that it was my child, and I wanted to support her. The Lawyer set me straight. Give all the support you want, but avoid the court mandating anything.
My accountant said he needed a few weeks to bury cash reserve I had in the business. I joked that we contractors usually wanted to pull money out of thin air, not the other way, and told him to get 75% of it hidden in a week! Later in the afternoon I met with the investigator in person for the first time.
He chose a Starbucks. Turns out he works out of his house, and as he said, it was also better if some people didn’t know where to find him.
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