The Neighbor- Epilogue
Author's Note: As I promised, this ties up loose ends, and hope it satisfies some of the questions my readers have had.
I will offer this disclaimer, on the advice of a reader who is an attorney and a fan of my works:
This story series does not depict or attempt to identify any persons, real or imagined by others. The Author acknowledges a near-total lack of knowledge regarding the US legal system, immigration policies, or military functioning. This story series is a fictional creation intended solely for the entertainment of others. The Author retains all copyrights and protections under US Copyright Laws as established on the date of final publication. The Author does not enjoin or offer any license to use the characters' situations or ideas presented in this story to any other Author or distribution service now known or to be invented in the future for a period lasting eternity.
As I stated previously, I am so very grateful to and for my readers, and the way they have followed this entire story to the finale. I would not have done it without you. Thank you for going on this journey with me!
With that, I present to you the Final installment of "My Neighbor".
--------------------------
I had to admit, when the US government wanted something done, they didn’t screw around. In less than 48 hours, I was back in the United States, including my portable hospital thing, my protection people, and with good riddance, I was sure. I had been enough of a pain in the ass to the Ambassador and his staff, though I was going to miss Garcia and Olga. They were nothing short of amazing, and I took the time to write letters to the Commandant of the Marine Corps, in hand-written correspondence, to inform him of their valor and dedication under trying circumstances. I hope they received medals or something. But I was in a First-Class seat on a very large passenger aircraft, with all of the attention and comforts I was entitled to. It was a new way for me to fly, and one I could get used to quite easily!
What was most surprising was my front door, when a driver dropped me off. I was standing outside, wearing a different caftan and heels, and reluctant to open the door, when the door opened for me. It was some woman, the one I presumed Steve had been sleeping with.
“Oh! Ummm… you must be Mrs. Recreant.”
“I am. Now, it is time for you to leave, and never come back, got it?”
The ending tone of my voice, which was normally soft, was rather filled with a snarling acidity. Despite everything that had transpired, I had returned home, and it was time to put my life back together, and most importantly, get my husband back! She went back inside, and made a beeline for the master bedroom, while I entered the front door, dragging my duffle bag and stuff inside. I could hear them having a conversation, but not what was said. Then Steve came down, followed by… her.
“Suzi. What are you doing here? I thought you were never coming home?”
I shook my head, my eyes glaring at the bitch who was trying to take my place in my own home.
“If you ever step foot in my home again, Bitch, I’ll end you.”
I was venting on her, for a long list of frustrations and angers, along with fears and tears. Tough shit. Mama Bear was ready for a fight, pregnant or not!
“Don’t worry, Suzi. She’s going.”
She avoided making eye contact with me as she managed to escape, leaving just myself and my husband standing in the foyer. Then I looked back to Steve.
“Did you think I was never coming home to you? Did you think I didn’t love you to the end of my days? Did you lose that much faith in me?”
I began to cry.
“Steve, I have never, for one second, given up my hope to be back home with you, and to be in your arms. To be able to love you and to be your wife. I have been through all sorts of Hell, and while I know you have served our country, for a normal housewife to have to go through what I have and know she has been abandoned is just more than I can take!”
The tears were in full force, and to his credit, my husband wrapped me in his arms and comforted me, as I let loose all of it. The angst, the pain, the anger, the frustrations, the injustices of it all. He eventually ushered me to the sofa, and he held me as I let it all out. It had to be easily 30 minutes of my spilling my tears, snot, and emotions all over him.
“Suzi… Suzi… Suzi… I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t handle the thought of you accepting the proposal of that man. The thought of you agreeing to marry him was just more than I could bear.”
It then became his turn to cry, and we held each other, my tears flowing again as we held each other. I comforted him, and he comforted me, and for the better part of another thirty minutes, we both comforted and cared for each other. At that time, I felt our bonds being re-forged. I was falling in love with him all over again. So, we ordered pizza and talked. I told him everything. The whos, the wheres, and the whys. The what he already had witnessed or been told about. He told me about the other woman. She was a former co-worker, who had formed an attachment to my husband, and when my husband thought I was gone, he called her up. She was in his arms that next afternoon. He had realized she wasn’t the right woman for him and was trying to figure out how to call the relationship off, but evidently, she knew what was coming and was using sex to keep him happy, and most importantly, silent. He even suspected she was trying to get pregnant by him because she refused his offer to wear a condom. I could relate to that, at least.
I knew in my heart that my next child would be Steve’s, without a moment’s hesitation. The first chance I got, I would be fucking Steve into immobility, if that is what it took to get pregnant by him. He deserved that, and I owed it to him. I owed him a ****** as big as he wanted.
We took several days to reconnect. Steve called in sick and I just doted on him as best I could manage. Anything he wanted, he got. My focus, my body, a cheeseburger, it didn’t matter. I showered with him and then dried him off as he dried me off. We lay in bed, and to sate his curiosity, I submitted my body to his inspection. He looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He used his fingers on my vulva, aroused me, and then used his fingers to feel inside my vagina, teasing me viciously before withdrawing and using my natural lubricants on my butt. He fingered my bottom and loosened me before he mounted me and sated himself. He denied me my release, but I had to be okay with it. I figured it was his form of revenge. Maybe on me, maybe on Oba, I didn’t know. But I denied him nothing. We talked over and over about things, from my trip to my kidnapping to my time with Oba. We talked about Garcia, Olga, and Mr. Wilson. The Gunny was a favorite conversation of Steve’s. I think he would have liked the man with the personality of a stucco bathtub.
We talked about Oba, a lot, because he had a lot of questions, and I did my level best to answer them. The most important of all was why I agreed to become his wife. It was a hard conversation because part of me wasn’t exactly sure why until Steve helped me understand that what Oba had been doing was a form of sexual torture. As a woman might deny her husband when she was angry with him, Oba used his cock on me to get me to submit to his every want. It made sense. Oba knew he was a gift to most women, and when he found me, tested me, and found me suitable, it became time to claim his prey, despite my initial resistance to deny him. In short, he broke my will. I never fell in love with Oba, but my body sure loved his cock, and sex can be a powerful weapon.
On the fourth afternoon, we were lying in bed, naked and snuggling, just enjoying the silent communication of a husband and his chosen mate as they lay skin-to-skin. I asked him about my baby, and how to proceed. What did he want? He hemmed and hawed and asked how I felt. There was no denying it, I loved my baby. He, or she, and been growing in my womb for pushing 8 months, now. Without a father, now a presumption because I could get no word on his fate, any hopes of child support were dim to non-existent. I had to ask for Steve’s input as this would affect him as well.
“Well, we discussed this. Abortion wasn’t in our values, and obviously, you aren’t having one now. So, as we agreed, we’ll raise the child as our own. We will have to be open about how he or she was conceived, that you were *****, and we decided to follow our beliefs.”
“I love you, Steve.”
It was all I could think of saying as I lifted my face to kiss his neck and chin. My heart was swollen for this amazing man. We were still in bed, caressing and touching each other when his hand started fingering my wedding ring.
“Suze- what’s this?”
His fingers were on the ring guard Oba had given me at the Nigerian wedding ceremony.
“Oh. That’s what Oba gave me in terms of a wedding ring. I had no intention of removing the one you gave me, for any reason. I told him, as I tell you now, that you own my heart, my Love. So, he gave me this, instead. I like it. It fits great and adds to the look. It is also the only thing I have left of him.”
I paused and looked up at him, using my index finger to get to look into his eyes by guiding his face to mine.
“But if you do not want me to wear it, I’ll take it off. Right here and right now, and never put it on again. I am your wife. We’ll keep it and when my child is 18, we’ll make it a present and he can do whatever he wants with it. Maybe use it for college?”
I left the windows to my soul open for him to search my heart. As my husband, he was entitled to it. He considered it for a few moments and then shook his head.
“Nah, go ahead and wear it. If you are willing to give it up for me, then I know who you belong to. When the baby is 18, then you can decide what to do with it. I have no stake in it. You still wear mine, and that says something to me about your heart. It says a lot.”
That conversation ended with us making love. Not fucking, but the genuine, sensual, pleasuring of two people sharing one life. It was so beautiful that I cried myself into a nap as he held me.
The day after, the doorbell rang, and I was in the kitchen while Steve was upstairs. Opening it, I almost screamed.
“Mr. Wilson! What are you doing here?”
I was not thrilled to see the man.
“Steve! I need you!”
The tone of my voice conveyed the urgency of my need and he came bounding down, a total-warfare frown on his face.
“Uhhh... Mr. and Mrs. uhhh… Recreant… I am here at the request of certain individuals, to provide you updates and some documentation. May we come in?”
At least Wilson chose the right names to use.
Once seated, I was introduced to Mr. Jones, an associate of Mr. Wilson. I swear, the originality of their names needed some work. Steve was introduced to everyone, he also sat there, attentive, but also very protective of me. I think, had I said some magic words or something, Steve would have used violence against them. I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Mrs. Recreant, I do regret to inform you that we have no word on the whereabouts or status of the man you married in Nigeria.”
That made me wince. I needed this asshole to be bringing up still-sensitive topics like I needed a broken nail.
“But I do have some documents. First is your Nigerian passport. Due to your... ceremony, the country of Nigeria now recognizes you as a citizen of their country through marriage. Your dual citizenship does not expire. The same goes for your child. Despite the lack of information on the... father... of your child, the immigration status of both of you does not change. This has been decided by the State Department.”
Handing over my new set of credentials, I then asked him a question.
“So, what the Hell happened?”
“A fair question, and one that I was told I am not at liberty to discuss. However, since you were present, and your husband is a known entity, I’ll share what I know. The short version is that your husb-… the General... he was working an angle to overthrow the government. His troops, while loyal to him, were not very close-lipped, and word had been spreading. He had the goal of turning Nigeria into a dictatorship. Which is where you entered the picture. Through you, I had access to him and was able to, in essence, blackmail him into negotiating. Until you had come along, he had refused all efforts at communication with us.”
I was confused, at first, but Steve wasn’t.
“Typical fucking State… They don’t give a shit about their people.”
Well, that gave me the context I needed.
“So, what happened? Why did I get the ever-loving shit scared out of me?”
“Ah, yes. It seems that the Nigerian government had decided that they weren’t interested in being overthrown, and so their troops stormed the complex, to arrest the General or shoot him. Whichever.”
He shrugged.
“Ahhh, so this explains why the Marines found me so easily. They already knew?”
Mr. Wilson nodded.
“Yes. It is also why your rescue went so smoothly. That was our requirement. Or more specifically my requirement. I know what you must think of me, but the truth is I like you. You have done your utmost to serve your country, without knowing who, what, or why. Or even that you were doing it. Did it go smoothly? Only your evacuation from the compound. Your kidnapping threw everyone for a loop, and there was considerable effort to get you saved.”
“I see…”
“Oh, that reminds me. Here, I have a present for you. Please lean forward?”
In doing so, I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and in short order, my collar popped free! It was strange, I almost felt naked without it, now, but it was great to not have to feel the weight pulling me down every day. I noticed he handed it to my husband.
“Mr. Recreant, I don’t know if you want to keep it or whatever, but I have been told not to bring it out. The United States does not support slavery in any manner.”
With that, the meeting concluded and they left, and I felt free, at last, to hold my husband, and be his wife, Mrs. Suzi Recreant.
----------------------------------
Two years have passed, and I have a healthy baby boy, whose skin is almost as dark as His father’s. But he has my blue eyes, and his hair has a reddish tint to it. Steven fell to love him as his ***, and we are a happy ******, with Steve and I working on our next child. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it…” I called out.
Pulling open the door, I gasped.
“Who is it, Honey?”
“Hello, Suzi, it has been a while.”
Steven came around the corner and just stood there, confused.
I don’t know why, but I lowered my hands to the hem of my dress and then pulled off my red lace panties, offering them out to our visitor.
It was Oba, and he came to put his next baby in me.
Author's Note: As I promised, this ties up loose ends, and hope it satisfies some of the questions my readers have had.
I will offer this disclaimer, on the advice of a reader who is an attorney and a fan of my works:
This story series does not depict or attempt to identify any persons, real or imagined by others. The Author acknowledges a near-total lack of knowledge regarding the US legal system, immigration policies, or military functioning. This story series is a fictional creation intended solely for the entertainment of others. The Author retains all copyrights and protections under US Copyright Laws as established on the date of final publication. The Author does not enjoin or offer any license to use the characters' situations or ideas presented in this story to any other Author or distribution service now known or to be invented in the future for a period lasting eternity.
As I stated previously, I am so very grateful to and for my readers, and the way they have followed this entire story to the finale. I would not have done it without you. Thank you for going on this journey with me!
With that, I present to you the Final installment of "My Neighbor".
--------------------------
I had to admit, when the US government wanted something done, they didn’t screw around. In less than 48 hours, I was back in the United States, including my portable hospital thing, my protection people, and with good riddance, I was sure. I had been enough of a pain in the ass to the Ambassador and his staff, though I was going to miss Garcia and Olga. They were nothing short of amazing, and I took the time to write letters to the Commandant of the Marine Corps, in hand-written correspondence, to inform him of their valor and dedication under trying circumstances. I hope they received medals or something. But I was in a First-Class seat on a very large passenger aircraft, with all of the attention and comforts I was entitled to. It was a new way for me to fly, and one I could get used to quite easily!
What was most surprising was my front door, when a driver dropped me off. I was standing outside, wearing a different caftan and heels, and reluctant to open the door, when the door opened for me. It was some woman, the one I presumed Steve had been sleeping with.
“Oh! Ummm… you must be Mrs. Recreant.”
“I am. Now, it is time for you to leave, and never come back, got it?”
The ending tone of my voice, which was normally soft, was rather filled with a snarling acidity. Despite everything that had transpired, I had returned home, and it was time to put my life back together, and most importantly, get my husband back! She went back inside, and made a beeline for the master bedroom, while I entered the front door, dragging my duffle bag and stuff inside. I could hear them having a conversation, but not what was said. Then Steve came down, followed by… her.
“Suzi. What are you doing here? I thought you were never coming home?”
I shook my head, my eyes glaring at the bitch who was trying to take my place in my own home.
“If you ever step foot in my home again, Bitch, I’ll end you.”
I was venting on her, for a long list of frustrations and angers, along with fears and tears. Tough shit. Mama Bear was ready for a fight, pregnant or not!
“Don’t worry, Suzi. She’s going.”
She avoided making eye contact with me as she managed to escape, leaving just myself and my husband standing in the foyer. Then I looked back to Steve.
“Did you think I was never coming home to you? Did you think I didn’t love you to the end of my days? Did you lose that much faith in me?”
I began to cry.
“Steve, I have never, for one second, given up my hope to be back home with you, and to be in your arms. To be able to love you and to be your wife. I have been through all sorts of Hell, and while I know you have served our country, for a normal housewife to have to go through what I have and know she has been abandoned is just more than I can take!”
The tears were in full force, and to his credit, my husband wrapped me in his arms and comforted me, as I let loose all of it. The angst, the pain, the anger, the frustrations, the injustices of it all. He eventually ushered me to the sofa, and he held me as I let it all out. It had to be easily 30 minutes of my spilling my tears, snot, and emotions all over him.
“Suzi… Suzi… Suzi… I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to think. I couldn’t handle the thought of you accepting the proposal of that man. The thought of you agreeing to marry him was just more than I could bear.”
It then became his turn to cry, and we held each other, my tears flowing again as we held each other. I comforted him, and he comforted me, and for the better part of another thirty minutes, we both comforted and cared for each other. At that time, I felt our bonds being re-forged. I was falling in love with him all over again. So, we ordered pizza and talked. I told him everything. The whos, the wheres, and the whys. The what he already had witnessed or been told about. He told me about the other woman. She was a former co-worker, who had formed an attachment to my husband, and when my husband thought I was gone, he called her up. She was in his arms that next afternoon. He had realized she wasn’t the right woman for him and was trying to figure out how to call the relationship off, but evidently, she knew what was coming and was using sex to keep him happy, and most importantly, silent. He even suspected she was trying to get pregnant by him because she refused his offer to wear a condom. I could relate to that, at least.
I knew in my heart that my next child would be Steve’s, without a moment’s hesitation. The first chance I got, I would be fucking Steve into immobility, if that is what it took to get pregnant by him. He deserved that, and I owed it to him. I owed him a ****** as big as he wanted.
We took several days to reconnect. Steve called in sick and I just doted on him as best I could manage. Anything he wanted, he got. My focus, my body, a cheeseburger, it didn’t matter. I showered with him and then dried him off as he dried me off. We lay in bed, and to sate his curiosity, I submitted my body to his inspection. He looked everywhere, and I mean everywhere. He used his fingers on my vulva, aroused me, and then used his fingers to feel inside my vagina, teasing me viciously before withdrawing and using my natural lubricants on my butt. He fingered my bottom and loosened me before he mounted me and sated himself. He denied me my release, but I had to be okay with it. I figured it was his form of revenge. Maybe on me, maybe on Oba, I didn’t know. But I denied him nothing. We talked over and over about things, from my trip to my kidnapping to my time with Oba. We talked about Garcia, Olga, and Mr. Wilson. The Gunny was a favorite conversation of Steve’s. I think he would have liked the man with the personality of a stucco bathtub.
We talked about Oba, a lot, because he had a lot of questions, and I did my level best to answer them. The most important of all was why I agreed to become his wife. It was a hard conversation because part of me wasn’t exactly sure why until Steve helped me understand that what Oba had been doing was a form of sexual torture. As a woman might deny her husband when she was angry with him, Oba used his cock on me to get me to submit to his every want. It made sense. Oba knew he was a gift to most women, and when he found me, tested me, and found me suitable, it became time to claim his prey, despite my initial resistance to deny him. In short, he broke my will. I never fell in love with Oba, but my body sure loved his cock, and sex can be a powerful weapon.
On the fourth afternoon, we were lying in bed, naked and snuggling, just enjoying the silent communication of a husband and his chosen mate as they lay skin-to-skin. I asked him about my baby, and how to proceed. What did he want? He hemmed and hawed and asked how I felt. There was no denying it, I loved my baby. He, or she, and been growing in my womb for pushing 8 months, now. Without a father, now a presumption because I could get no word on his fate, any hopes of child support were dim to non-existent. I had to ask for Steve’s input as this would affect him as well.
“Well, we discussed this. Abortion wasn’t in our values, and obviously, you aren’t having one now. So, as we agreed, we’ll raise the child as our own. We will have to be open about how he or she was conceived, that you were *****, and we decided to follow our beliefs.”
“I love you, Steve.”
It was all I could think of saying as I lifted my face to kiss his neck and chin. My heart was swollen for this amazing man. We were still in bed, caressing and touching each other when his hand started fingering my wedding ring.
“Suze- what’s this?”
His fingers were on the ring guard Oba had given me at the Nigerian wedding ceremony.
“Oh. That’s what Oba gave me in terms of a wedding ring. I had no intention of removing the one you gave me, for any reason. I told him, as I tell you now, that you own my heart, my Love. So, he gave me this, instead. I like it. It fits great and adds to the look. It is also the only thing I have left of him.”
I paused and looked up at him, using my index finger to get to look into his eyes by guiding his face to mine.
“But if you do not want me to wear it, I’ll take it off. Right here and right now, and never put it on again. I am your wife. We’ll keep it and when my child is 18, we’ll make it a present and he can do whatever he wants with it. Maybe use it for college?”
I left the windows to my soul open for him to search my heart. As my husband, he was entitled to it. He considered it for a few moments and then shook his head.
“Nah, go ahead and wear it. If you are willing to give it up for me, then I know who you belong to. When the baby is 18, then you can decide what to do with it. I have no stake in it. You still wear mine, and that says something to me about your heart. It says a lot.”
That conversation ended with us making love. Not fucking, but the genuine, sensual, pleasuring of two people sharing one life. It was so beautiful that I cried myself into a nap as he held me.
The day after, the doorbell rang, and I was in the kitchen while Steve was upstairs. Opening it, I almost screamed.
“Mr. Wilson! What are you doing here?”
I was not thrilled to see the man.
“Steve! I need you!”
The tone of my voice conveyed the urgency of my need and he came bounding down, a total-warfare frown on his face.
“Uhhh... Mr. and Mrs. uhhh… Recreant… I am here at the request of certain individuals, to provide you updates and some documentation. May we come in?”
At least Wilson chose the right names to use.
Once seated, I was introduced to Mr. Jones, an associate of Mr. Wilson. I swear, the originality of their names needed some work. Steve was introduced to everyone, he also sat there, attentive, but also very protective of me. I think, had I said some magic words or something, Steve would have used violence against them. I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Mrs. Recreant, I do regret to inform you that we have no word on the whereabouts or status of the man you married in Nigeria.”
That made me wince. I needed this asshole to be bringing up still-sensitive topics like I needed a broken nail.
“But I do have some documents. First is your Nigerian passport. Due to your... ceremony, the country of Nigeria now recognizes you as a citizen of their country through marriage. Your dual citizenship does not expire. The same goes for your child. Despite the lack of information on the... father... of your child, the immigration status of both of you does not change. This has been decided by the State Department.”
Handing over my new set of credentials, I then asked him a question.
“So, what the Hell happened?”
“A fair question, and one that I was told I am not at liberty to discuss. However, since you were present, and your husband is a known entity, I’ll share what I know. The short version is that your husb-… the General... he was working an angle to overthrow the government. His troops, while loyal to him, were not very close-lipped, and word had been spreading. He had the goal of turning Nigeria into a dictatorship. Which is where you entered the picture. Through you, I had access to him and was able to, in essence, blackmail him into negotiating. Until you had come along, he had refused all efforts at communication with us.”
I was confused, at first, but Steve wasn’t.
“Typical fucking State… They don’t give a shit about their people.”
Well, that gave me the context I needed.
“So, what happened? Why did I get the ever-loving shit scared out of me?”
“Ah, yes. It seems that the Nigerian government had decided that they weren’t interested in being overthrown, and so their troops stormed the complex, to arrest the General or shoot him. Whichever.”
He shrugged.
“Ahhh, so this explains why the Marines found me so easily. They already knew?”
Mr. Wilson nodded.
“Yes. It is also why your rescue went so smoothly. That was our requirement. Or more specifically my requirement. I know what you must think of me, but the truth is I like you. You have done your utmost to serve your country, without knowing who, what, or why. Or even that you were doing it. Did it go smoothly? Only your evacuation from the compound. Your kidnapping threw everyone for a loop, and there was considerable effort to get you saved.”
“I see…”
“Oh, that reminds me. Here, I have a present for you. Please lean forward?”
In doing so, I felt his hand on the back of my neck, and in short order, my collar popped free! It was strange, I almost felt naked without it, now, but it was great to not have to feel the weight pulling me down every day. I noticed he handed it to my husband.
“Mr. Recreant, I don’t know if you want to keep it or whatever, but I have been told not to bring it out. The United States does not support slavery in any manner.”
With that, the meeting concluded and they left, and I felt free, at last, to hold my husband, and be his wife, Mrs. Suzi Recreant.
----------------------------------
Two years have passed, and I have a healthy baby boy, whose skin is almost as dark as His father’s. But he has my blue eyes, and his hair has a reddish tint to it. Steven fell to love him as his ***, and we are a happy ******, with Steve and I working on our next child. I was in the kitchen, cleaning up when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it…” I called out.
Pulling open the door, I gasped.
“Who is it, Honey?”
“Hello, Suzi, it has been a while.”
Steven came around the corner and just stood there, confused.
I don’t know why, but I lowered my hands to the hem of my dress and then pulled off my red lace panties, offering them out to our visitor.
It was Oba, and he came to put his next baby in me.
