Into the Light

Eric couldn't believe the turns his life had taken in the last week. He was sure that he was going to be caught for the extra expenses and missing equipment in his project budget. He had been scrambling for the last week trying to make sure that any inquiry would not be able to uncover where the extra money and equipment had gone. He had been so wrapped up in trying to cover his tracks at work, that he let his guard down at home. Last night, when his wife showed him the the papers she had found, an overwhelming sense of doom had taken him.

He stood in the freezing, February morning waiting for the commuter train that would take him to the confrontation awaiting him at his office. He understood better now the cliche about going from the frying pan into the fire. He stared at the pre-dawn moonlight reflecting off of the rails as they curved out of sight just a hundred yards from where he stood at the end of the platform. As he waited and watched for the train, he tried to figure out how it had all gotten so out of control.


Eric loved his wife, Kelly, very much. She had insisted on staying a virgin until they were married. He didn't object. He loved her so much and thought that once they started having sex, she could understand the wonders of physical love. As it turned out, Kelly was a bit prudish. She seemed to enjoy their intimacy thoroughly, but she was very conservative about sex itself. To Kelly, wild sex was if she got on top. Over the eight years of their marriage, this had left Eric feeling like there was something missing in their sex life.

In order to deal with his sexual frustration, Eric would tell his wife he had to work late one or two nights a month. Instead of working late, he would head down to Warsaw Street, the district where all of the adult bookstores, prostitutes, and strip joints were. He always went alone and would visit a couple of different clubs each trip. There were eight or nine clubs along the five block section of Warsaw street, so he wasn't what you'd call a regular in any particular club. That is, until he met Vicky.

Vicky was a dancer, and one of the better ones. She stood out to him because she was enthusiastic on stage; she actually seemed to be enjoying herself up there. When she came around to offer lap dances after one of her sets, he immediately took her up on the offer. Normally, Eric would get one, maybe two lap dances during one of his seedy excursions. Vicky pleased him so much, that he enjoyed her personal service five times that first night. He became addicted like a man who starts smoking crack. His trips soon became at least once a week, and he always went to the club where Vicky worked, The Smoking Gun. He got up close and personal with her three or four times each trip.

At thirty dollars each, the lap dances were quickly draining away the money that Eric kept in his secret account. He had opened it years ago so that he could squirrel away some cash that Kelly didn't know about. Since The Smoking Gun was a fairly upscale cigar bar as well as gentleman's club, he slipped a couple of his visits into his expense account as "client entertainment". He knew he couldn't keep that up long because his boss would get suspicious. Even though he only did it twice, it started him down a slippery slope.

During his frequent encounters with Vicky, they developed a rapport. When she'd learned on his third visit that he worked implementing computer systems, she told him about her desire to run her own adult website. Over the next couple of weeks, they causally discussed what it would take for her to set up her own site with pictures and even some video clips.


Eric glanced at his watch, then looked up the empty tracks. The train was overdue. The cold morning seemed to make time pass painfully slow. He watched the trackbed, looking for any sign of the approaching train.

He couldn't quite remember whose idea it had been for him to bring over some simple equipment to show her how a webcam and chat room would work. At the time, he thought he had finagled his way over to her apartment. Now, shivering on the cold platform, he began to suspect she had seduced him into doing it.


He brought over two laptops, since they were easier to carry than desktop PCs. He configured one as a server for a mock webcam site. The other he used to show her what people on the other end would see. He showed her how to setup and use the still cam, and how to record short video clips that could be downloaded by clients.

Vicky seemed to enjoy stripping and writhing around for the cameras. When she masturbated while Eric recorded the sample video, she noticed how excited he became. When they finished recording the demo, Vicky started kissing Eric and tugging at his clothes to show her appreciation for his help. Eric was initially stunned. While he had fantasized about such things, he had never really expected them to occur. He thought of Kelly, and resisted at first. Vicky became more excited by his reluctance, and she was not to be denied. He eventually gave in, and with that, Eric crossed the line in his head that separated simple entertainment from cheating.


Eric heard the train sound its warning blast a couple of miles off. It would be here in two or three minutes.


After the first time, Vicky had Eric wrapped around her finger. He struggled with guilt over cheating on Kelly. He did love her and he never intended to truly cheat on her. For him, his secret trips to Warsaw street gave him a thrill just because he was being naughty. Vicky was a talented lover though, and she had taken Eric to places he had only imagined or read about. He rationalized his betrayal of Kelly by telling himself that she didn't like, nor was even willing, to do most of the things he did with Vicky.

Vicky knew the power she had over Eric. She was able to convince him to pilfer enough equipment to set up her website. He also managed to bury purchasing a high-speed internet connection for her stolen computers in his project's budget. Within 30 days of going on-line, Vicky stopped working at the club and was living off of the money her new website was making. She continued to thank Eric for his technical help by keeping him very satisfied with their arrangement.

A couple of weeks ago, his boss had called him in to say that some equipment on his project was unaccounted for. Eric's heart leapt into his throat when his boss first mentioned it. He quickly swallowed it back down and tried to act calm. He had been convincing when he expressed confusion and promised to look into it. It wasn't unusual for minor pieces of equipment to disappear, but Eric had misappropriated a server, a couple of other PCs, and some networking hardware.

He came up with reasonable explanations for the missing hardware, or so he'd hoped. He managed to falsify some transfer records to another project whose manager left the company a couple of months prior. He was worried that his boss might try to contact the departed manager to verify the transfers or locate the items. By shear blind luck, Eric had picked a man that his boss had a grudge against and would not reveal any problems to now that he was gone. Unfortunately for Eric, while he had been producing his explanation, his boss's concern caused him to call for a complete accounting on the project, and there were some suspicious purchases and expenses. Yesterday, his boss told him that he wanted to meet with Eric and the VP from accounting first thing in the morning.

The one thing Eric hadn't tried to hide in his project was the purchase of a domain name registration. It was the one thing his client would never need for the work he was doing. It was only about thirty dollars and he just paid it himself. They sent an invoice, which he paid. He forgot to take the invoice over to Vicky's and left it in the basket in his office at home with some other papers.

Kelly had gone into the office to look for some stamps. Not finding any in the desk drawer, she started rummaging around in the basket and found the invoice. She might not have paid any attention to such a thing if it hadn't been for the name of the domain registered to her husband: VixenVicky.com.

Kelly got on the web and looked at the site. By the time Eric had gotten home last night, Kelly was in tears. She spent over an hour on Vicky's webcam site looking at pictures and sample videos. She even paid for a 3-day trial membership so that she could see everything. Had he not been so distracted with events at work, Eric might have been able to fashion some explanation for Kelly. It was a lucrative opportunity, but one Kelly wouldn't like, so he had kept if from her. Something like that.

As it happened though, when she confronted him with tears streaming down her face, he was speechless. He could see in her face all of the pain that his indulgence to his fantasies had caused her. This perversion of their love for each other, which had pained him when he gave in to Vicky the first time, was killing Kelly right before his eyes. He was unable to hide his shame or responsibility. Kelly knew right then that he was guilty and what he was guilty of. He had broken her heart as surely as if she had caught him in the act. She packed a bag and left for her sister's house. She told him not to call her. She would get in touch with him. Maybe.


He saw the reflected headlights of the approaching train on the small concrete building on the other side of the tracks and on the rails that stretched around the corner. The pair of bright reflections were inching their way up the rails and growing brighter. The parallel razors of light shot past where he was standing and with a blare of its horn, the train came into view. It was traveling faster than normal, probably because it was running late, and braking hard as it came into the commuter station. Eric stood near the end of the platform that was closest to the approaching train.

He looked up at the locomotive and stared into its approaching headlights, fifty feet away. Suddenly, the train represented the doom that was barreling down on his life.

Forty feet now. He thought of the pain of the divorce that Kelly was certainly going to seek.

Thrity feet. He thought of the shame of being fired, or worse, arrested and tried for embezzlement.

Twenty feet. Kelly would get alimony, but how would he pay it unemployed or in prison?

Ten feet. Eric looked at the headlights, and thought of his life insurance.

Five feet. He stepped off of the platform and into the light.