Pictures Never Lie: A Love Story

Pictures Never Lie: A Love Story Pictures Never Lie: A Love Story

Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance


This was originally posted as a series of short chapters. I have pulled the entire thing into a single novella and I think it reads better that way. I also cleaned up some editing issues from the original version. I hope you enjoy - DT


This was originally posted as a series of short chapters. I have pulled the entire thing into a single novella and I think it reads better that way. I also cleaned up some editing issues from the original version. I hope you enjoy - DT

Chapter1 (v.1) - Pictures Never Lie: A Love Story

Author Chapter Note

This is the entire ten Chapters in a single file

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 17, 2016

Reads: 936

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A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 17, 2016




Pictures Never Lie: A Love Story

Chapter One: Tom’s Story

I attend a professional conference every year. It’s five days of catching up on new stuff in my field. This year it was in San Diego, which is a venue I happen to hate. The City itself is okay, if you like your scenery cluttered with health nuts.  But it’s a four-hour flight from the East Coast. And I have spent so much time packed into a metal tube with 250 total strangers that I have developed a severe allergy to air travel.

The first day was mainly registration and the inevitable “Welcome” cocktail party. I disposed of the schmoozing by 8PM and called Janet from the room. She was her usual chipper, slightly sarcastic self. She is a lot better looking woman than I deserve and I have loved her since the day I met her. But her jaded take on the world is what I really adore.

She told me that it was beautiful and sunny back on Long Island and she had spent the day in the garden. I told her that it is always beautiful and sunny out here and I had spent the day in the clutches of the travel industry. I told her I was going to go down to the hotel bar to have a nightcap and try to hit the hay before 10:00. We closed with the lovey-dovey exchange of endearments that all traveling couples sign off with.

I walked into the bar which was basically just a patio overlooking Mission Bay. Janet usually accompanies me on long trips but she had to close out her school year and so I was a bachelor for the next four and a half days. I don’t sleep well without her next to me in bed so I have to fortify myself before I turn in. I ordered a brandy in the hope that it would help me sleep better.

While I was sitting there, a couple of my San Francisco colleagues joined me. Bill is a network geek and frankly boring. Jane is a geek too but she is well known in the trade.

One of the standard jokes about her is that her boobs will take twenty IQ points off of any man standing next to her, just because of the distraction. That is not even close to fair, because she is first and foremost a smart and effective woman. She just happens to be wrapped in a Double-D package.  Unfortunately, the joke ALSO holds true. I was mesmerized by the jiggle.

She and Bill were obviously hammered. People get that way on “welcome” day. The newfound freedom from daily routine tends to express itself in too may “first” drinks. And network wonks are not big drinkers anyway. 

Bill sat down six inches above the wicker chair and almost crushed it falling backwards. Jane held onto the table gingerly, as she lowered herself carefully into her seat; looking for all-the-world like she was docking the space shuttle. I said with a certain amount of cheerful irony, it looks like you have been here a lot longer than I have.”

Bill said something along the lines of, “They have wonderful Margaritas”.

I said just to make conversation, “How many have you had?”

He looked at Jane and they both shrugged.

There was part of me who wanted to get away from them since I absolutely did not want to wrangle two drunks. But I have a really unfortunate tendency to be a rescuer. I know it is a personality flaw and it frequently gets me in trouble. I said, “This place is big and confusing. Let me help you two to your rooms.”

Bill demurred but Jane said, “Would you please? I’m not sure I could find it.”

I knew what she was talking about. Destination hotels are like a village. And unless you were born there it is hard to decipher the various “Casa” this’s and “Villa” that’s.

She gave me her key card and I steered her off of the patio and we walked for what seemed like a quarter mile through the resort vegetation to her room. All of the time she was chastely holding my one arm with both of her hands to keep her balance. Her ankles were occasionally turning on her four inch FMPs as she walked. But nothing catastrophic happened.

When we got to her place she spun toward me in a familiar fashion and said, “Thank you for walking me home, would you like to come in for a drink”.

I am not exactly worldly-wise but I knew what THAT meant. Every conference that I have ever attended turns into a fuck-fest. That usually goes on in various combinations and permutations throughout the week for both the unmarried and the married participants. I was sure that Jane, who is a stunner anyway, was just kicking off the ball, for her week.

But I was not, and never have been interested in any aspect of fucking around on my wife. Besides totally complicating your life, any form of casual sex is always the first nail in any marriage’s coffin. That truism applies whether it is no-strings-never-see-you-again sex, or if you fall in love for a week and nobody finds out. Once you open the door to infidelity it is impossible to completely close it again.

So I said, trying to be tactful, “It was my pleasure escorting you back fair lady but I am exhausted.” She looked disappointed.

When I ran into her the next day she was particularly friendly, almost dewy eyed sentimental. She said, “Thank you for just bringing me back. I was very drunk.” I got the message and it actually made me feel good to know that I was one of the few who had not taken advantage of her normal free pass.

The conference ground on in a boring haze.

Janet was different when I called her the second evening of the conference. In fact she was SO different that I actually checked to see if I had dialed the right number. Instead of being her usual brisk and good humored self she was distant, almost cold, talking to me in monosyllables. I thought, “What the fuck?”

But then again I have days like that, when the troubles of the world carry over into my relationship with her.

She is mostly of Italian descent, so her personality is like a tropical rain forest. Something will set her off and there will be violent thunder and driving rain. Then the sun will come out and it will be like the storm never happened, no repercussions, or grudges.

She was obviously in the middle of one of those occasional monsoons. She wouldn’t be reasonable until she had calmed down and so it was pointless to ask her what the problem was. Instead, I said as cheerfully as possible, “You are going to owe me some serious makeup sex for the way you are treating me tonight, I’ll see you at JFK day after tomorrow at 6:45, I missed you.”

She bulldozed right past my attempt at humor and said with some heat in her voice, “You are going to have to take a cab home. I’ll be at Sarah’s”. Sarah is her older sister.

I was totally baffled and very disappointed. So I said mournfully, “What! I haven’t seen you in five days and you are going to be visiting your sister?”

She said with no emotion whatsoever, “I am going to be there for the rest of next week. I will see you next weekend” and then terminated the connection without a by-your-leave.

I was crushed and frankly confused. We had never been apart for two weeks in our entire 17 years together. It was obvious that something serious was going on involving Sarah and it was something that had put Janet in a total funk. Maybe Sarah was dying?

I couldn’t imagine that Janet’s attitude would involve me in any respect. Since all I had been doing this past week was sitting through droning lectures and having the occasional drink with my colleagues; in a big group I might add.

I knew that Jim Murphy, who was an employee of mine, could vouch for me. He had come in on the same flight and had been with me all of the time at the conference, except for today, when he had unexpectedly flown home. However, I was certain that his early departure wouldn’t affect his ability to vouch for me, since Janet had already gotten strange.

Murph was ten years younger than me and something of a protégé. He was good looking and smart, and as a result he was a bit too full of himself. But he was still young and basically a good kid, full of Irish charisma. He was at our house a lot and Janet, who is closer to his age than she is to mine, knew him well and liked him. I hated to admit it but I was pretty sure he could charm her out of whatever was wrong with her faster than I could.

My guess was that Janet had gone rouge because Sarah was having one of her interminable marital problems. And Janet was pissed about it. Sarah’s husband fucks around on her and every time she catches him there is this extended period of family turmoil, followed by a tearful reconciliation. In fact, marital strife almost seems like a hobby for those two. And Janet gets pulled into the argument because she has always been the “responsible” sister.

The problem is that Janet absolutely hates being put in the middle. And since she can’t take it out on her “victim” of a sister, I am customarily the designated scapegoat.  This had happened several times in the past. But I was always physically present when it did, so I was able to talk some sense into Janet before she left to deal with whatever Sarah’s latest trauma was.

Janet is passionate in everything she does. I mostly benefit from that passion through a superlative sex life. So, I decided a long time ago that the best thing I could do was to roll with the punches, in the occasional times I was the target of her ire. Therefore, as I flew back home I reconciled myself to being all alone for a bloody week. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t have things to keep me occupied. We were in the middle of a major overhaul of the security at one of the larger defense installations on the island. The problem with DoD contracts is that you are frequently accountable to people who know a lot about securing physical things but don’t really understand the special circumstances of securing something in the virtual one.

They have to be led by the hand through all of the intricacies of that kind of operation, usually while telling you that they “know best”.So I had five consecutive 10 hour days explaining to an Air Force, Major General that “defense in depth” was not just a simple matter of assigning the help a user ID and a password. It was an excruciating process but I liked the money.

When Friday evening rolled around I had been expecting Janet, but she was nowhere to be seen. Her cell was off.  I had called her a couple of times during the week just to check in and chat but I got the same monosyllables and curt treatment, so I backed off. I knew she would get over it.

I was lonely and I have to say that her brutal treatment hurt a lot. So I called up Murph to see if he wanted to grab a beer and discuss ways of talking my wife down from her current snit.  But he was not answering either. It looked like it was going to be another night of watching baseball by myself.

Janet finally appeared in the middle of the morning on Saturday. She looked grim. I tried to hug her hello but she brushed right past me and on into our bedroom where she dropped her travel bag and came out with a memory stick in her hand, very distant and unfriendly.

I had never been in this situation with her before. Even the first time I had met her she had been a lot more welcoming. She stomped by me, still not saying a word, went into the den, did ten minutes of printing and came out with a manila folder. She poured a cup of coffee for me and one for herself and sat down at the kitchen table looking direly at me. To say that I was feeling anxious doesn’t begin to describe it.

Then she used those four little words that no husband wants to hear, “We need to talk”. I sat down opposite her weak kneed. I don’t know if my fear and anxiety was as obvious to her as it was to me, but my heart was beating so hard I felt like it was about to attack me.

I must have looked as concerned as I felt, because she smiled with grim satisfaction. It was, like I had just confirmed something for her. She took a deep breath, reached into the folder and pushed nine 8 by 10 pictures across to me. She had obviously just printed them off on our printer.

The first print was of me and Bill and Jane sitting around the table at the resort. We were clearly drinking and chatting. The next three were a sequence of me helping Jane to her feet, walking through the resort shrubbery and in the last we were standing at her door with her facing me in a friendly fashion. These were all taken with a medium grade cell-phone camera.  I thought Okaaaaaay? 

In the next five I was vigorously banging a woman in various positions, missionary, doggy, reverse cowgirl, cunnilingus and for the grand finale she was blowing me. You could build a bridge out of the tension in the air between us.

I studied those five very carefully. Time ticked by. I could feel the hate radiating from the other side of the table. I finally sat back and said, “Where did you get these.” She said emphatically, “A friend gave them to me. He couldn’t stand the sight of you fucking around on me with that woman”.

She added grimly, “I needed all of this time at Sarah’s to decide what I was going to do about you.”

That broke my heart because I had a feeling that I knew what she had decided to do. She said, “Do you have anything to say for yourself you bastard!”

I said, well, the first four pictures were taken on the first night of the conference. They are of me helping Jane Longworth back to her room. She was drunk and I didn’t even get a peck on the cheek for my gallantry. But she DID thank me the next day for not taking advantage of her.

Janet said with venom, “I don’t care about those first four and your stupid story Prince Charming. What I care about is what you did with her in that room.”

I said, trying to keep my voice as even and unemotional as possible, “I went back to my room after that and went to sleep. The next five pictures are frame grabs off of some porn site with my head not very capably photoshopped onto the stud’s body.”

She slammed her hand down on the table, “You mean to tell me that these pictures are not clear evidence of YOU fucking some slut at the conference. My lawyer thinks that they are. And they are all I will need to take you to the cleaners”

I continued, keeping my voice as mild as possible. I said, “I’m in this business. I can recognize bad photoshopping when I see it. These pictures are a total fabrication. Why somebody would try to convince you I was fucking around is a mystery. But you would think they would do a better job of editing.”

I said, “Look! The woman I am walking with in the first four pictures is a brunette with her hair down to her shoulders. The woman in the next four is a long haired blond. Do you think that she took the time to grow her hair out and dye it before we began to wallow in the throes of passion, or do you think she just put on a wig for the benefit of the photographer?”

“And then if you will notice in the last picture; she must have stepped back into the bathroom to turn herself into a short haired redhead for the blowjob. I like variety but this is ludicrous.”

“Now, look at my face. My expression never changes. I am holding my head in precisely the same way and I am looking in the exact same direction in all of those pictures. You’d think that I might have at least moved my eyes a little bit during the mind-blowing sex.

“Finally, in two of these I am either suffering from some dread disease of the cranium or my head has temporarily grown to ET proportions on my body.”

I finished with, “Somebody just took a picture of me off of Facebook, or Instagram or somewhere, and photoshopped my face onto a porn star body.”

I added, “Any high school kid can do it. They have sites all over the internet with stuff like Nancy Pelosi doing Paul Ryan, or Barak Obama banging Sarah Palin, nobody believes the ridiculous things that are on those sites, but at least the editing is better than it is here.”

I said as a final offering, “But, let’s take these pictures to the lab and put them under the scope. You will see beyond a doubt that this is somebody trying to set me up.” She was turning paler and paler as I explained it to her. I didn’t understand her reaction. But I got the impression that her level of distress meant that she was not entirely convinced.

So I said with some anger, “Get in the car, we are going to the lab.” She arose from the chair like she was in a bad dream and walked behind me out to the car. We drove the 8 miles to my lab in total silence. She did not look at all well.

I should have probably put my arm around her and said “there-there” but I was really angry at her for how she had treated me the past week. And I was particularly pissed that she had fallen hook-line-and-sinker for such a ludicrous, and I might add badly executed, stunt.

When we got to the parking lot of the lab she hesitated, like it was time for her to walk the last mile. Janet is very competitive and perhaps a little over-sure of herself when she gets an idea into her head. So I knew that she didn’t want to be proven so totally incorrect.

I suppose that nobody wants to find out that they treated their spouse like she’d treated me for a week and then see the undeniable evidence of how stupid you’d just been. But her reaction was kind of extreme even for her. I chalked it up to her being highly embarrassed about how she had behaved. We have always had an extremely close and loving relationship. So she must have felt like it was a serious betrayal, for her to just fly off the handle without even talking to me.

I felt sorry for her. I knew that she was ashamed and that she didn’t know how to begin to apologize. But my taking her to the lab wasn’t just me rubbing her nose in it. I wanted prove beyond a shadow of doubt that I had been faithful to her. Then we could move on from there.

I mounted picture six on the scope. That was the view of me doing the blond with the big tits in the missionary position. I was smirking directly at the camera. I moved the picture around on the table until it was centered on the monitor under the scope. I said, in an attempt to lighten the moment, “WOW! You WISH I had a cock like that!”

There were clearly two different pictures, my cutout face and the stud’s body. The edge where my face had been digitally cut out and joined to his shoulders was an obvious shadow. But the pictures themselves were also composed of two different pixel formats, so the cropping and the overlay were starkly obvious. That was true with the other four pictures as well.

I turned to her and said, “Satisfied?” She looked horror stricken. Then she put her hands over her mouth and began to cry. I know she is emotional but I was totally bewildered. 

She sank to the floor with her hands over her face repeating over and over, “He told me that he took them himself. He said they were his!!!” I had expected her to apologize but I didn’t expect her to totally break down. I said, “WHO told you WHAT? What the fuck’s going on here?”

She sat there crying miserably. I went over and picked her up and hugged her. I said, “I love you, and I don’t care that somebody caused you to question my devotion. You were set-up as much as I was. It’s over now and I forgive you so let’s move on”.

She stood there with her head buried in my shoulder and continued to wail. She said miserably, “We can’t move on from this.” I thought what the fuck does that mean?

All the way home she sobbed inconsolably and would not talk to me. I was absolutely distraught. What had happened to my happy life?

The answer was waiting in the driveway. He got out of his car as we got out of ours and. He came over with concern written on his face, focused on Janet. I said amiably, “Hey there Murph, something’s wrong with Janet so give us some space to sort this out would you.”

Janet wailed and then did a very strange thing. She broke from where she was standing next to me, ran toward Murphy and started flailing at him. Murphy backed off looking stricken.

I was beginning to get a sinking feeling as I grabbed her and held her away from him. She was calling him every name she could think of and a few things I didn’t catch.  Her claws were out and she was completely out of control with rage.

I looked at him directly. His face was as guilty as a post office wanted poster. I said, “Wait a minute. Are you the one who did this? WHY??!!” The look on his face told me everything I needed to know. 

I was at a total loss from the sheer stupidity of his betrayal. I was the owner of the company and his boss and he was enough of a moron to think he could set me up with my own wife. What unbelievable arrogance!

I said, “Get out of here and if I ever see you again I can’t guarantee what I will do; but it is going to involve hired goons with baseball bats. Needless to say you’re fired and don’t bother to use me as a reference because you are absolutely dead in this business.”

As I said that, I was holding onto Janet with both arms, while she continued to struggle to get at him. He was backing away with a look of absolute anger on his face. Then he turned and bolted back to his car, backed it out hastily and drove away. Janet was just standing there now inside my arms with her head hanging down. I said gently, “Let’s talk” and led her inside. I had a feeling that this was going to be very, very bad.

Chapter Two: Janet’s Story

I was teaching the third grade at our local elementary school when I met Tom. I have always been interested in helping others and I love kids. So it was probably inevitable that I would end-up with a career as a teacher. It was lucky that I met him at that particular time in my life because he was the right guy and I was definitely ready.

My body developed early and by the time I was fourteen I looked like I was twenty-five. Of course putting somebody with the emotional maturity of a child into a smoking hot woman’s body is a recipe for disaster. And I had a lot of moments growing up when I regretted how I looked.

But I managed to survive the horny teenagers and dirty old men, albeit narrowly, to mature into a woman who had danced around most of the usual pitfalls of looking like I did. I had some bumps and bruises and a couple of broken hearts. But I now understood that men were a species you couldn’t trust; especially when it came to the things they told you while they were unsnapping your bra.

I had been living the single professional girl life for three years and I had finally come to the realization that there was a lot more fulfilling existence out there than the one that I was in, which chiefly amounted to getting picked up at local clubs for casual sex.

Love at first sight is such a sad pathetic cliché but that is exactly the way it happened for us. I wasn’t actually husband hunting. But the minute I saw Tom I knew I that I was destined to be his for life.  It was probably some complex mix of past experiences, acquired attitudes and body chemistry, not Cupid’s arrow itself, but the minute I saw him I just knew that he and I would grow old together.

He was at our school to talk to the students about what he did for a living, which was internet security. We connected from across the room.

I liked his looks of course. He was tall and slim and had mischievous blue eyes, which seemed to sparkle with intelligence. But it was the confident way he held himself, his graceful easy manner and the goofy lopsided grin that he gave me when we locked eyes that made my heart thump and my panties get very wet. 

I sidled over to stand silently next to him after his presentation, while keeping a close eye on the unruly little tykes who were sitting there under my supervision. He looked directly at me for a long time, like he was deciding something, and said, “Let’s have dinner tonight.” That was all it took. We had a short courtship over dinner followed by me falling into bed with him that evening.

I hadn’t exactly fucked around. But by that stage in my life I had plenty of experience with men. And I had expected Tom to be just like all the rest. The best of them spent a little time trying to ensure my satisfaction, the worst of them just rutted and hopped off. Tom, on the other hand, totally blew my mind. Part of it was the complete attraction, he was sweet, kind, funny, smart and an already well-established professional man. The eight years’ difference in our ages was about what a woman like me requires, since all of the men my age seemed to me like glorified frat boys.

Tom took his time when we first made love. He carefully explored my body to identify all of the hot buttons. Then he proceeded to push every one of them in the exact order that was required to turn me into a wild animal. We fucked, I blew him for round two, we fucked some more, I worked him over again, he did me doggy style, which unbelievably was a new experience for me.  We took a shower and I rode him and shrieked my orgasm for the entire world to hear. Then the sun came up.

I don’t throw the term “love slave” around lightly but that more-or-less summed it up. I was coy. I waited an entire week before I moved in with him. We lived like that for six months. The sex was exquisite, the conversation and the companionship even more so. He proposed on one knee in Central Park on a beautiful fall day. I cried. We were married in St. Pats three months later.

Our life together was perfect except for one small problem. I couldn’t have kids. I didn’t find that out until six years after we were married. But we finally saw the doctor after a fruitless year of trying to get me pregnant and discovered that it probably wasn’t going to happen. There was nothing wrong with either of us. It was just some random reproductive factor that prevented it.

I wept for a solid month because I adore kids. But Tom was as kind, gentle and understanding as a man could possibly be during that period, and I loved him even more for his tenderness. Plus, I still had a new crop of bright young faces to nurture every fall. And our love just kept getting stronger and stronger.

Even in my early forties we were still having sex like much younger couples do. We experimented with positions that interested both of us and we continued to grow closer. Somehow the term “love” just doesn’t describe my feelings for him. It was more a total connection, husband and wife and I was proud to be his and his alone.

His business grew all of the time that I am describing here, and his company had many employees. But there was one guy who Tom took a special liking to. I could see the reason as soon as I met him.  He was a couple of years younger than me, tall and with a devilishly handsome Irish face that always had a hint of larceny in it.

Murphy was smart and he was the sort of guy who other men liked to bond with, because he had all the charm of the Irish in his soul. He was quick with a song and seemed to know how to do every dance ever invented. He was literate. He could cite whole passages from Yeats and Wilde and Joyce, and Behan. More importantly he was almost in Tom’s class as an internet genius, so he could give Tom a helping hand when he needed it.

Murph was Tom’s right hand man. Thus he was around our house all of the time, so much so that I would usually forget he was there. One day I was working around the pool deck, scrubbing the weatherproof cushions of the chairs. I was wearing something I would never have worn in public. It was hot so I had on a thin t-shirt, no bra and a pair of very short nylon running shorts. I could feel my big breasts swaying as I worked and their moving back and forth had stimulated my nipples until they were at full mast. It looked like I was pointing two little fingers in front of me. 

He must have been watching me for a while but the first hint I had that he was even there was when I heard a voice right behind me say with longing, “Now that’s a sight isn’t it”.

I shrieked and almost fell in the pool.

He reached out to steady me.

I turned and there was Murph with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.

I said, “You nearly frightened me to death!”

He said apologetically, “Didn’t mean to. I just wanted to know if Tom was home.”

I said with a “duh” in my voice, “Is his car in the driveway?”

He said, “No”.

I said, “Then he isn’t home yet. Do you want to grab a beer and wait for him?”

He said that he would love to. I continued to scrub and he continued to sit by the side of the pool and drink a beer and watch me.

I would have been incredibly self-conscious with any other man. But this was Murph, Tom’s friend and he was like a brother to me. My soul was devoted to Tom and I had no feelings for Murph whatsoever. So it didn’t occur to me that I was showing anything off to him that way.  I know all men are hounds but there had never been the slightest hint of sexual interest between the two of us.

Some of you might think that I had lost all my protective instincts over the 17 years I had been married. But a woman who looks like me never turns off the sensors that tell her a man is checking her out. And I could tell that Murph was doing that. In fact, I found THAT pleasing. It was nice to see that I hadn’t lost it entirely.

Tom walked into the back yard at that point with a cold beer in his hand and a leer for me, which was gratifying. He dropped into the chair next to Murph. They go to an annual conference and they were making arrangements for where and when to meet the next day. We barbecued and sat around the pool until sunset and then Murph left.

I normally go with Tom to these events.  But they managed to schedule this conference on the week that I do the end of the year evaluations of the kids and so there was no way I could go. We sat together by the pool in the dark and just held hands and talked for a while and then we made our way up to the bedroom.

I was feeling a little insecure. I get that way whenever he leaves me alone for any period of time. So the minute we got in the darkened room I threw my arms around his neck, squashed my big tits against his chest and kissed him with an open mouthed ardor that I hoped would communicate how much I would miss him and what he could expect when he came back to me.

Our tongues dueled for a little while and then he carried me to the bed, laid me down on top of the coverlet and proceeded to pound me into oblivion. I must have come four times before it felt like a balloon full of hot lava exploded inside my lower belly.

I lay there with my mind in 6,000 pieces and my pussy dripping on our bedspread trying to get my breathing under control. He was lying next to me in the same state. I turned to him and said, “Please don’t ever let this end”. He laughed and said something about flying pigs.

I took him to JFK the following morning. He could have flown out earlier but we wanted to spend a little time messing around before he left. I gave him the most extensive and loving blow-job I could muster as a going away present.

If you could see what I look like you would probably not understand how anybody like me could be so insecure about their husband being on his own. It is a matter of degree. I have so much invested in the guy that the thought of losing him to anything, plane crash, heart attack, or another woman, is absolutely terrifying.

He called me every night and we talked. I was hoping he was interested in a little phone sex. I even mentioned on the Wednesday night call that I was naked in bed and that kitty was hungry. But he was all business, which somehow bothered me.

Then on Thursday my world ended.

I came home from my last parent-teacher conference to find a message in my in-box. The header said “I’m Sorry”. The message said, “I had to tell you”. The sender was anonymous. There was an attachment. I opened the attachment and there were two pictures.

One was of Tom standing in front of a room at the conference hotel. He was looking in what I thought was an over-friendly way at a stunningly hot woman who was saying something to him. The second picture was of him banging her. The look on her face indicated that she was enjoying it a lot.

I felt a wave of chills and the taste of bile in my throat and then I fainted. I woke up seconds later, lying on the floor in a pool of vomit. I clutched myself into a fetal position and started to cry and then wail. It was like I had just downed 14 martinis.  I couldn’t stand up so I crawled on my hands and knees into the bedroom where I passed out on the bed. When I came-to again the covers were soaked with my tears but at least I could function.

I pulled myself together enough to brush my teeth and splash a little water on my face. I had to talk to somebody. I just couldn’t believe that Tom would do something like this to me. The obvious person to talk to was Murph. He was out there with Tom and he could reassure me that what I saw was some kind of illusion.

I dialed his cell and he answered after the first ring. His voice radiated worry. I said, “Did you send those pictures?” He said, “I’m sorry Janet but I couldn’t stand it any longer. He does this, every time we go to one of these conventions.” The sympathy and concern in his voice was palpable.

I wailed, “What am I going to do. My life is over!” He said, “I’m coming home early. Can you pick me up at the airport? We can discuss it I’ll be there for you.” I told him that I would see him the next afternoon, which was the day before Tom would arrive back. I didn’t sleep a second that night. The hurt and anxiety were tearing me up.

I called my sister Sarah as soon as I got off the phone and asked her if I could stay with her for a week. She has plenty of experience with a cheating spouse and so she “got it” right away. It was comforting to have a couple of friends.

Tom called that night. I was so upset that I almost hung up on him but I needed to create some space to think. And hanging up on him might have alerted him that I knew. So I was civil if not loving. I told him he would have to make his own way home. There was no way I wanted to be near that cheating bastard in the state I was in.

I was waiting for Murph the next day at JFK. He must have thought I was dying from the Ebola or something because he did a double take when he got in the car. He said compassionately, “This has been very rough on you. I’m sorry”.

I collapsed on his shoulder crying wildly. It was lucky I had the car in “park” or I probably would have killed both of us right at the airport. He held me while I cried. That was an inordinately long period, long enough that the airport cop rapped on the window and told us to move on.

I took him to his place and he invited me inside. He had a beautifully appointed condo near our house. He let me sit on his sofa with him and cry while he held me and made sympathy noises. I said plaintively, “What am I going to do?”

He said, “Let me show you everything that I’ve got. I think that will make up your mind.”

He walked over to a laptop, plugged a memory stick in and brought up a series of the most disgusting photos I had ever seen. All of them involved Tom and some slut. By the time he was finished my anguish had turned to cold fury. 

The betrayal was total. My marriage was over. I said, “Do you know the number of a good divorce attorney?”

He told me he did. He said that the guy was an old college chum of his. He even called him for me and got me an “emergency” appointment for the next day, Saturday morning. Tom called again that night and got the same treatment. I needed to talk to the lawyer.

Murph said, “If you want to stay here I can bunk in my other bedroom.”

I told him that my sister was expecting me but that I would be back to pick him up the next morning to visit his friend. My sister has been through what I was going through and she knew what to do. We talked, cried and drank enough wine to float a battleship.

Sarah said, “How do you know for sure? I never actually had the proof or I would have kicked his cheating ass out a long time ago.” I showed her the pictures on the memory stick that Murph had given me.

Murph had told me that he had taken them himself with his cell phone. He had even added with sympathy rather than humor, “They were so into it they forgot to close the drapes”. Nicely anesthetized I missed Tom’s call that night.

The lawyer was enlightening. Murph sat in with me because he was the one who had taken the pictures. He explained how he had seen the two of them together and had guessed what was going to happen. He said, “Jane Longworth is a well-known slut at these events and the minute I saw Tom home in on her I knew what was going to happen. He does this all of the time”.

My anguish spiked, this was not the person I had given myself to so totally. I started to cry even though I thought that I didn’t have any tears left.

The lawyer pointed out that even though New York was a no-fault State it allowed grounds for at-fault divorce if adultery could be proven by a third party. He said that the only stipulation was that the cheated-on party could not, in effect, condone the actions of the adulterer by continuing to live with him.

I was so devastated by what Tom had done to me that I was able to assure him with certainty that was not going to happen. So I told him to draw up the papers on the basis of adultery. I told him that I didn’t care about the division of property, which would be substantial. All I wanted was out of the marriage as soon as possible.

The lawyer said, “Have you talked to your spouse about this yet?” I said, “I can’t stand to be near the cheating varmint let alone talk to him. So I have given myself a week to cool down and gather my courage.”

He said, “Let me advise you to do that sooner than later.” I said, “It will be next weekend”. 

I had picked Murph up. Doing the driving was the least that I could do for him being so kind to me. When we got back to his place he invited me in. But I was still so numb with shock I didn’t want to even talk about it to him. In seven days my life had gone from one of total happiness and love to one of stark desolation. 

I went back to Sarah’s and slept for the entire afternoon. Tom called again and I let it go to voicemail. Murph called and asked me if he could buy me a little dinner. I wanted to do something, anything to get my mind off of how bad I felt so I said “Sure”.

I tried to fix myself up a little. I had been crying for three straight days and my face was a mess but a shower and a little makeup worked wonders. Murph was scintillating all evening. I discovered that I was thinking less-and-less about Tom as Murph worked his magical Irish ways on me.

He dropped me at Sarah’s. He said, “That was really fun Janet, do you want to go out on my boat tomorrow and get a little sun?”

I thought about the offer and sun and water sounded like a brilliant cure for the cheating husband blues, so I said maybe a little too eagerly, Sure, what time?”

He had a big cabin cruiser with a galley and a cuddy with a bed. I changed into a bikini in the cabin. I know that I have a killer body. I have known that for my entire adult life. But I was feeling seriously ugly thanks to Tom’s other woman. She looked younger and a whole lot hotter.

So I chose the bikini that left very little to the imagination. I have huge breasts and a relatively small body. I am only 5 foot 2 and small boned. The only other part of me that is big is my butt, which is all muscle but it looks like the stern of an aircraft carrier when I am backing toward a mirror. The thong left the entire expanse uncovered.

I thought that Murph was going to fall overboard when I came out on the deck. That was the response I needed. He cruised us around that day with me sitting on the front part of the boat drinking a Bloody Mary and sunning myself.

I cooked for us and we ate and he brought us back to the marina as the sun went down. It was a glorious day and I was beginning to feel less like the walking wounded. I have to admit that I was waiting for Murph to make a move on me but he never did. I thought to myself, “Maybe this is a friend I can trust”.

I had some cleaning up to do the next week, the usual end of the school year stuff.  The familiar routine was exactly what I needed to get myself out of the funk I was in. Tom called every night and I talked to him but he was getting nothing from me in the way of warmth or affection. I would settle him on Saturday.

In the meantime, the lawyer had called and told me that he had the papers ready. All I needed to do was sign them and he would have Tom served. I told him to hold off until the following week, after I had talked to Tom. Murph took me out to a delightful little place on Wednesday evening. It was right on the bay and it had dancing out on the patio overlooking the water.

We danced for hours. He held me in the warmest and most romantic way. We moved together like we were a single person and eventually he kissed me. It was electric. I had not been kissed like that since the early days with Tom and I was gasping for more. But he just laughed and said, “After you do what you have to do”.

I was developing some serious feelings for the man. He had dropped everything and come completely across the country to comfort me when my world had ended. He had been nothing but respectful and even loving in the past week. And he had rescued me from my personal hell.

When we got to Sarah’s I kissed him again, very hot and deep. He returned the favor and even caressed my cheek in a way that was sending shivers down my back. He said with merriment in his eye, “I could get used to this.”

As the weekend got closer I was becoming more-and-more frightened. I had been totally deceived and I didn’t know how to handle it. The weeklong interlude was exactly what I needed to get some distance on the event that had ended my life, but I still had the final battle to face and that was scaring me out of my wits. I loved Tom and I would always be his but I had to face the ironic fact that I couldn’t ever be his wife again.

That hurt and confusion were almost too much. I nearly called Tom up to ask him if we could just talk like we always have, but then I looked at those pictures and my fury returned full force. I would stick with the game-plan. That was when Murph called. He was his usual amiable self. He said, “I know you plan to face Tom tomorrow so how about coming over to my place tonight for a little moral support. I can also prove to you that I can cook.”

I laughed and said, “What time?” An evening with Murph was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of the catastrophe that would happen tomorrow. He was actually in a checkered apron when I arrived on his doorstep. I laughed. He laughed. I had brought a bottle of wine as a gift and he already had one open.

I sat at his kitchen bar and drank the wine while he cooked. It was easy and cheerful, almost too cheerful. I thought to myself, “He’s putting this on in order to keep me from thinking about tomorrow”. I was really grateful. The dinner was some kind of Italian thing that I didn’t know a man was even capable of making. I said, “You are a man of many talents Murph.”

We left the dinner dishes in the sink and made our way over to the couch. I had a final glass to finish.

He sat close to me with his arm around me protectively and I talked about the feelings of insecurity that I now had. I told him that in my experience men were never to be trusted but that my life with Tom had made me think otherwise. That was the reason why his treachery had been so devastating. I said, “Now I will never be able to trust another man, EVER”.

Murph just nodded sympathetically and tightened his arm around my shoulders. It was a very soothing gesture. It said, “You are loved”. It just seemed natural to kiss him. His mouth tightened with passion mine opened to him and we began to seriously kiss. I moaned with lust. I was wearing a little sun dress and he slipped the straps down over my arms to reveal my breasts.

I am one of those women who is lost if you touch her nipples. He took one into his mouth and the bottom fell out of my world. I gasped and groaned with need. I lay back on the couch and he moved his hand down to my pussy. Miss puss-puss was overflowing.

He massaged my clit for just a second and I came loudly and wetly. I was on fire. Then I felt something slide into me and I was totally abandoned. I fucked him like a wildcat scratching and biting and making noises like he was killing me.

I know now that it was the emotion of the past week driving things but I have never acted like that in my life. I had my legs wrapped around his ass and my arms over my head making my body totally open to him. I must have come four or five times before he shot into me with a force that almost changed the atmospheric pressure in my womb. Then he rolled off of me.

My mind was completely off-line for a couple of minutes and then I came back to my rational senses. I was horrified. I shrieked, “What have I done??!!” Murph sat up and looked at me compassionately. He said, “Nothing more than Tom has done over and over. You saw the pictures.”

I said, “I don’t care what HE did. I care about what I did” and started to gather up my clothes and put them on. Murph looked amused and said, “I will see you tomorrow after you have confronted him. We can come back here and I can fuck you as a free woman. You’ll love it”.

I touched his cheek and said, “I like you Murph but this is never going to happen again. I am Tom’s no matter whether he wants me or not. The only option for me is a convent, not you. I am not ashamed of what I did with you only because he so thoroughly betrayed me but it will never happen again.”

As I left Murph said to me, “We’ll see”.

Tom tried to hug me as I came in the door the next day. I was so repulsed by him that I just brushed past, set my bag down and went in to print out the evidence.

He was looking distraught by the time I sat down with all of the pictures in a manila envelope. I wanted this to be a surprise so I could judge by his reaction how completely I had been betrayed. The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.

I was so angry at him I could barely speak so I silently handed him the first four pictures. Those were the ones of him picking up the slut. Then I dealt him the cards that had put the stake through my heart. I was looking at him to pick up any sign of surprise. He looked puzzled and then he said, “Where did you get these?”

I thought “Aha!! guilty as charged.” I told him that a friend had given them to me. He didn’t need to know it was Murphy. I asked him what he had to say for himself. Tom is always measured and thoughtful. As he studied the pictures of his treachery he looked like he was analyzing them.

I thought to myself, “That’s an odd reaction?” Then he proceeded to tell me about something called “photoshopping”.

I teach third graders. I know nothing about computers. So I looked at him puzzled. He carefully showed me how the incriminating pictures of him had been manufactured using some digital trick; the obvious conclusion was that they weren’t pictures of him at all. 

I should have felt overjoyed but of course I had something on my own conscience that was going to prevent anything but the darkest feelings of guilt and despair. He must have read that as skepticism because he dragged me down to his laboratory and showed me how the “proof” of his cheating on me had been manufactured. 

If I thought that I had been devastated by pictures of his infidelity I now understood what devastated really felt like. I put my hand over my mouth and began to cry. I had betrayed my one true love and it was tearing me up inside.  I was going to faint again so I sank to the floor crying. He raised me up with loving concern and I buried my face in his shoulder.

He told me that we could get past this. I knew we could NEVER get past this. I cried all of the way home. It was like my child had died. When we got out of the car all I could see was that deceitful underhanded mother-fucker standing there with phony concern on his face. Tom started to ask Murph to back off while he helped me deal with what he must have thought was incredibly strange behavior on my part.

Things might have worked out differently if I had just been cool about it. But the man in front of me had caused me to betray the love of my life and I just snapped.  There is something mercilessly savage in the lizard brain of all of us and Jim Murphy had unleashed that. I went after him claws out. I was going to get his lying eyes at least, if not his balls. I shrieked every vile name I could think of at him. Tom grabbed me or I would have probably killed the son-of-a-bitch.

Tom is not a stupid man. He was beginning to put two and two together and he had gotten the right answer. He told Jim Murphy about the harm that he had just done to his future career and what he would do to him if he ever saw him again. The creepy fucker took off.

Then Tom turned to me. I couldn’t look at him. I was mortified and my soul had been crushed into miniscule little fragments. I just hung my head as he led me into the house. I knew that what would follow would be very, very bad.

Chapter Three: The Tale is Told

Murphy had disappeared and Janet was still hissing and spitting like an angry cat. The situation had developed so fast that I couldn’t fully grasp what was going on. But I WAS sure of one thing. My former protégé was involved in it up to his treacherous eyeballs.

I could tell from his reaction that Murphy was the one who had done the photoshopping. I could also deduce that Janet was the target. My voluptuous little wife is a stunningly attractive woman. So it is understandable when the occasional strange male will hit on her. But Murphy was a trusted friend and colleague. The level of THAT betrayal was excruciating. 

Because of her striking physical beauty, Janet has had to learn how to fend off men. She has been doing that since her early teen years. In fact, it is because of those finely honed skills that I have never had the slightest reason to doubt her fidelity. But it was obvious from the torrent of emotion pouring out of her that, something very bad had happened over the past ten days. And it involved Murphy. I wanted to get to the bottom of it.

I was still holding Janet by her waist, just above where her hips flared out into that delectable ass. I turned her around, made her look up at me, and said, “Let’s do what we have always done, talk it through.” I tried to come-off controlled and sympathetic. But I was starting to have a very sad feeling.

I walked into the house and back into the kitchen. I made us a couple of cups of herb tea. I brewed Janet’s favorite, she looked like she needed some chamomile to relax.

I carried both steaming cups over to the table. She was sitting in our bright and sunny breakfast nook. Because we are both creatures of long married habit she was sitting in the exact same relative position as she had been sitting when she had angrily confronted me. That was not quite three hours ago.

She was back to sobbing. Her head was hanging down and her thick brunette hair hid her face. I put the tea in front of her and kissed her fondly on the top of her head. As I sat down opposite her, she raised her tear filled eyes and looked directly at me. There was agony written there. She wailed, “Why would somebody do this to us?”

I said, “There are people in this world who just want what they want. They never think about how their selfish desires can hurt other people. Hell, they are probably not even aware that other people even exist except as agents to satisfy those desires. Murphy is obviously one of those.”

I smiled grimly and added, “I’ve got to admit I totally misjudged him, both in terms of his moral compass and also his professional competence. I thought he could do a better job of doctoring the pictures but he must have been doing it spur of the moment in his room at the conference. He had to know that I would find out what he had done and that I would fire him with extreme prejudice when I did. I just didn’t understand why he would take that risk.”

I finished with, “He’s dead meat now. I am going to make his ruination a personal project and if I leave him with one cent in his pocket after this is over I will feel like I failed. I am only sorry for what he put YOU through. It must have been just plain awful to see pictures like that.”

She looked at me with wounded eyes and said, “It destroyed me. I have never felt pain like that. I passed out when I saw them and then I wanted to kill myself.”

I said mildly, “Why didn’t you just call me up and confront me. You’ve never been shy about confronting me over anything in the past?”

She said, “I teach third grade. I don’t know anything about computer tricks. To me, PICTURES NEVER LIE.” I had never heard such anguish in anybody’s voice as she said those last three words. She lapsed back into crying,

Then she snuffled and said, “You saw what I thought you were doing and I guess I couldn’t face having that confirmed”.

She said ruefully, “I was so devastated by your betrayal that I just couldn’t talk to you. It was like you were a total stranger, somebody I didn’t know. I was terrified of what you might say to me.”

I said as sympathetically as I could. “I understand that. I would have felt the same way if you had cheated on me.”

She visibly winced. I thought “Uh-Oh” but I wanted her to remain calm enough to walk me through the events of the past ten days.

I said, “When did you get the pictures?”

She said, “They came to me on Thursday afternoon after school, from an anonymous e-mail”.

I got up, walked to her laptop, which was sitting on the kitchen island, and clicked on her account. As she said, Janet teaches third grade. She is not a heavy user of email. So the message was sitting fifth from the top after four spam ads.

The header said, “I’m Sorry” and the message said, “I had to tell you”. The timestamp was the prior Thursday at 15:38. I opened the attachment and there were two pictures.

The first was me with Jane Longworth and the second was a reasonably convincing picture of me banging a slutty looking blond. I literally cringed from the pain that second picture must have inflicted on her.

I said with sorrow creeping into my voice, “And then what happened?”

She said, “I fainted dead away and threw up. Then I crawled into the bedroom and passed out again. I was in a total state of shock. I can’t describe how frightened I was.”

She said tearfully, “I needed somebody to talk to and I had no idea what you might say to me. The one thing I knew for sure was that I wasn’t ready to face you. So I called Murphy instead. He was a friend and he was out there with you. I was hoping he would have a logical explanation for what I saw.”

She added, “I told him about what I had seen and he told me that he was the one who had sent the pictures. He said that he had agonized about it. But he had to tell me because you did that to me at EVERY conference.  I won’t get into details about the lengthy bout of crying that ensued but long-story-short he volunteered to come back early from the conference to help me deal with this.”

Her anger was increasing as she said, “I picked him up when he got back and he took me to his place and showed me six more of those hideous photographs. I am ashamed to admit that they made me so furious I visited a divorce lawyer the following morning. Murphy set it up with one of his college friends. I was extremely grateful for how sympathetic and helpful he was.”

I was thinking, “Yeah right, he was eager to help me out of my marriage.” I decided that living in a cardboard box under a bridge was far too pleasant a fate for that fucker. I had more substantial plans for Mr. Murphy. 

Janet continued, “I went back to Sarah’s totally desolated and fell asleep. It was the first sleep I had had in almost 48 hours. I woke up in the late afternoon when Murphy called me. He was sympathetic and completely focused on helping me through my grief. He asked if he could buy me dinner to get my mind off of my troubles and we could talk some more.”

I would do ANYTHING to stop thinking about the situation. So I went to a local restaurant with him. It was not a “date” as much as it was two friends commiserating and he took me right home after we ate.

The next day he took me out on his boat for all day. That was more like a date. I was just trying to cope and I was up for any distraction that he could provide. That was the day you came home. He continued to be gentlemanly and sympathetic, even though I wore one of my bikinis all day on the boat.” My heart sank from pure jealousy and I actually audibly gulped. I know what Janet looks like in a bikini.

She said ruefully, “Then he took me out to dinner on Wednesday. That was EXACTLY like a date. We ate danced and he kissed me and I kissed him back. It was my grief and insecurity driving that. I just wanted a man to reassure me that I was still attractive. The woman in your picture was a lot younger and hotter than I am and I had begun to transfer my need to be desired over to him. It was kind of like my personal version of the Stockholm syndrome.”

I thought, “He might not be good at photoshopping but he is a genius at seduction. He couldn’t have played on Janet’s insecurities any better if he had actually been married to her for 17 years.

Then she hesitated. I didn’t want to hear what was coming next but I had to get the entire story out. So I said, my voice dripping with suspicion and threat, “Was that all there was then?”

She gave a deep sigh and then continued after a significant pause. She said that Murphy had invited her over to his place for dinner last night, just to help her get up her courage for the confrontation that the lawyer had told her to have with me today. 

In the middle of that sentence Janet started to cry. I finally knew for sure; he fucked her. I said, “How many times?” She said in the tiniest voice, “Once”.

On the day the meteor streaked across their sky, the dinosaurs must have felt exactly like I did at that moment. There was no mistaking it. Life as I knew it was at an end. My beautiful soul mate, lover and friend had spread her legs for Jim Murphy.

The little voice in my head was prompting me to be fair, since Jim Murphy had masterfully played her. But the fact remained that she had given it up to another man, without allowing me the slightest opportunity to make it right for her.

She gave me all of the gory details. She wasn’t taunting me. It was like she felt compelled to tell me EVERYTHING. It was obvious that her destruction of our marital bond was total. In about a nanosecond I went from compassionate husband to absolutely furious cuckold.  I said with cold rage in my voice, “You mean to tell me that you fucked that asshole, without even giving me a chance to explain myself.”

She seemed to shrink into herself like a pillbug rolling up. I continued with, “We have been lovers, partners and life-companions for seventeen years and you let that incredible mother-fucker stick his cock in you before you even talked to me?”

She wailed, “But I believed the pictures! Murphy kept telling me that you had regularly fucked around on me and I had the hard evidence in front of me. What else could I think? I thought our marriage was over. Murphy was just THERE and safe and sympathetic and my need to be reassured simply got the better of me. Raw emotion drove my actions with him not my head.”

I said, “You HAD a husband who loved you to distraction. You could have and should have talked to him as soon as he got home. I can understand your hesitancy when I was in San Diego. But you were only twelve miles away for six whole days. All you had to do was stop by.”

I looked at her with sadness and said, “I wouldn’t have cared if you came through the door with a shotgun in your hand, at least I could have tried to explain myself. In fact, you could have shot me and I would have felt less pain than I do right now. Your lack of trust and your cowardice has ruined both of our lives.”

She collapsed in a gale of tears.

I knew that last statement was unfair but I was beyond angry. I said, trying to keep myself under control, “I need to get some distance on this so I can think it through. I am way too emotional right now. You can stay here. But I am going to move some things over to the Hilton. When I get better control of myself we can talk. I just don’t know when that is going to be.”

I went into the bedroom and packed the same bag that I had rolled off the plane from San Diego a week ago. A week that now seemed like ten centuries. I took it out to the car.

Once again, Janet did something unexpected. Rather than wailing, and clinging to me and protesting how sorry she was, like every other cheating wifed, she dried her tears and walked calmly and determinedly out with me.

Her gorgeous face looked like it had been carpet bombed. But she stood forthrightly in front of me, looked me squarely in the eye and said, “I know that we are where we are because of my lack of faith in you and our marriage. I know that this is my failure and my failure alone.”

She added with conviction, “While you are away I am going to think very deeply and honestly about the insecurities and weaknesses that drove me to this and I am going to have answers for you when we talk again. I WILL tell you that I am very sorry but I WILL NOT beg you to forgive me and I will not yield to self-pity. That would be pointless. Instead, I am going to fix whatever is wrong so that you will never doubt my faith in you again.”

Then she looked intently at me, like a person who is about to put everything on one throw of the dice and said, “Do you still love me?”

Three hours ago I might have said something flippant but I knew that this was perhaps the most important answer I would ever give her and so I wanted to get it right.

Without hesitation I said, “I absolutely and unequivocally love you. This is not about whether I love you or not. It is about whether we can be together after this. And I know that I am the only person who can fix THAT.”

She looked like the dice had come up sevens. I said to her as calmly as possible, “Do YOU still want to be married to me?”

She said, “All I have ever wanted is to be married to you. I told you I was yours for life and that is the way it is. Even though you probably doubt that, I will never feel otherwise. And if you decide you don’t want me I will never have another man in my life. You probably don’t believe that either. But you will find out it’s true over a lifetime, no matter what happens.”

Those words were both painful and uplifting. I had a momentary flash of Janet’s face contorted with lust and her big naked tits jiggling as he rammed himself into her. But I also believed in my heart that whatever had caused her to spread her legs for that piece of shit was not motivated by an irresistible taste for fresh cock.

 I backed slowly out of the driveway. She stood there watching me looking strong and brave. Then she turned and walked resolutely back into the house. As I said, she is a stunningly beautiful woman but it is the soul inside that remarkable body that is the thing I truly adore.

My first step after booking a suite for a week was to call my head of security. I told him that Jim Murphy was to be kept away from the premises and that he could not be allowed to enter the building under any circumstances. I added, “This is important enough that YOUR job is on the line if he as much as comes 10 feet into the lobby.”

The guy is a former SEAL. He assured me that Murphy would not be fool enough to darken our doorstep and he was smart enough not to ask me why. Murphy was NOT on the blacklist because he had just fucked Janet. It was because Murphy had an all access clearance to every one of our company’s secrets and I didn’t want him to have the chance to use it.

Then I called our system manager and told him to shut off all electronic access for Murphy, from any source.  He had been to the Rodeo over his 20 years and he didn’t need to know what THAT meant. I stayed on the line until he assured me that every digital access point was secured. I added, “Now spend the rest of the weekend making me confident that Murphy doesn’t have any backdoors installed.”

Then I called our internal audit manager and told him to that I wanted an audit of any account, or transaction that Murphy had made in the past year. I said, “I want it on my desk by close of business next Friday.” He assured me that he would have it sooner than that.

I was doing all of this because I had a suspicion that Murphy wasn’t quite as stupid or incompetent as he seemed to be.  He had to know that I would catch him SOONER than later. So my guess was that he had planned to whisk Janet off to some place like the Caymans. And that trip would be financed with a whole lot of the company’s money.

The possibility of collusion made my blood run cold.

I frantically dialed Janet. She answered hope in her voice. I said in my friendliest tones, “I forgot to get the name of the lawyer you talked to. I will need to have my guy talk with him as soon as possible. Are you still planning on having papers filed on me?”

She said with total distress in her voice, “GOD NO!” 

I laughed and said as casually as I could, like it was an afterthought, “Oh by the way, did Murphy talk about any trips with you?”

She sounded perfectly mystified and said, “No? Why do you ask?”

I breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Oh there was something in a message that he left here that indicated that he was planning a vacation.”

She said, “If he planned on taking a vacation he didn’t mention it to me. I’m sure that he was too busy plotting my downfall to make any vacation plans.”

Then she GOT it. Like I said, Janet might not know much about computers but she is a very smart woman. She said with horror in her voice, “You didn’t think I was planning on running away with him do you? Please tell me you didn’t think that!” And she began to cry.

I said, “NOW I don’t. But we have a lot of bridge building to do, you and me.”

She hung up still sniffing. I had been separated from her for an hour and a half and I was only eight miles away but I felt like it had already been a month and a half and I was in Antarctica. I longed to be with her. But I had to be tough enough to beat this disaster completely into shape.

I didn’t want to do that sitting by myself in my lonely room. So I went down to the hotel bar with a yellow legal pad and a pencil and ordered a double scotch “rocks”.  The kids would probably use a tablet, or netbook but I am from an earlier era.  I sipped my drink and made a pro and con list.

On the pro side, Janet had clearly been targeted by a skillful predator. Murphy had wormed his way into her trust by being around the house over a long period of time laughing and joking with her. Janet is a nice person and it would never occur to her to take his friendship at anything less than face value.

I also believed that she had not questioned the veracity of the photos. She is a master educator. But digital forensic science is not in her skill set. I had taken copies of the pictures with me and I honestly had to admit that they would be plausible at first glance. That is, IF you didn’t know how easy it was to alter a digital image.

I could see the pattern of seduction. First Murphy made Janet totally dependent on him using the ultimate “shock and awe” impact that those photos would have created. Then he built the sexual tension by romancing her in a completely non-threatening way, under the guise of being “caring” and “compassionate”. 

Not making a single move on her after she had spent the day parading around in front of him in a bikini was a master-stroke. I was sure that she wore the one that shows off her body in ways that cause unspeakable waves of yearning in any male, just to prove that she was still desirable. I can’t express how jealous that made me.

She must have expected the display of her remarkable goods to pique his interest. And I am also pretty sure that she would have shot him down once she had confirmed that she still “had it.” But Murphy just acted like she was his sister for the entire day.

That must have really ratcheted up her insecurity about herself, while substantiating the fact that he was a man she could count on.

Janet had told me that she had never known a man she could trust, up until the time she met me. When you look at that beautiful face and stunning body, it is hard to blame the male population for trying to undress her. So after Murphy proved that he could resist her charms for a day, I am sure that Janet was gullibly compliant and probably utterly dependent on him.

Okay, so up to this point “not-guilty.”

That brought me to the nub of the matter. She had been brutally truthful and almost too detailed in describing how she had fucked him last night. That gave her “honesty” points, in that she had held nothing back in the telling. When she described the sex itself she made it clear that she had been “all-in” during the very short time they were fucking. I appreciated her desire to have no secrets between us. But the pictures that put in my head were killing me.

Nevertheless, her description of the fucking itself also told me important things about the underlying act, which she might not have realized she had given me. Janet is plain and simple the best fuck I have ever known, hands down; totally passionate and giving of herself. She needs to be thoroughly fucked in order to be completely satisfied and one round, even from a porn stud, wouldn’t do it for her, EVER.

What she did last night was one relatively short bout in the missionary position, which is completely out of her norm. She didn’t blow him afterward for seconds, which is practically a ritual with her. And she didn’t stay around to do it twice, which is almost unheard of with Janet.

So it was reasonable to assume that her spreading them for that incredible mother-fucker and then bolting home was evidence of a moment of weakness, rather than long-standing and highly developed fascination with his cock. 

So I believed from how blatantly short-lived the act itself was, that it was nothing more than a spur of the moment coupling instigated by a masterful seduction and fueled by her drastic emotional state.

IF she had stayed overnight with him, or fucked him for hours it would be all over between us. But it was forgivable if it had been a one-time quickie that was the result of a concerted seduction, as it appeared to be in this instance.

The best part was that I could check my logic by simply calling Sarah and asking about the timing. I decided to make the call. Sarah picked up on the first ring. I had the feeling that she was waiting for me. I said, “Sarah, I assume you know about our problems.”

She said, “I just got off the phone with my sister. Janet sounded eerily determined and motivated. She was a total wreck all week and now she is talking like she is getting ready to do battle.” I laughed at the image of my exquisite little wife armored up like Leonidas. I said, “How long was she gone last night?”

Sarah said, “She went over to that guy’s place at 5:30 and she was back here by 8:30. I know that you think; that I would lie to cover up for her.  But thanks to my dear husband’s escapades I hate cheaters. And I want them all to rot in hell, even if they are my own kin.”

“I swear that Janet was only gone three hours, which included travel time and dinner. And she didn’t have that well-fucked look when she came home, pardon my French.” I laughed again and said. “I thought that ‘fuck’ was a Saxon word and thanks for the information. That helps a lot.” We both hung up.  Okay, so what I had so far was that she had fucked the guy once. It was a single intense bout but the reasons were understandable.

That was more-or-less on the “pro” side of the ledger. Now for the “cons”; first and foremost, she had NOT brought this to me when I got home. I realized that she was going through her own personal hell, including visiting a lawyer on the day that I got back and I was willing to give her a pass on that.

But she had spent all of the following day parading invitingly around in a bikini in front of that double-crossing mother-fucker and even thinking about that made my blood boil. I put that criminal act down on my list of things she would absolutely have to explain.

THEN, she had avoided me for five days rather than talk to the one person who she had pledged to share her life with, and who loved her above everything. All of this was while she was “dating” Murphy. That betrayal was hard to justify under any circumstances.

Her excuse was that every time she looked at my so-called “incriminating” pictures they brought on a new wave of fury and she couldn’t stand to be near me. I could almost accept that explanation given the way I was feeling about her right now. But the fact remained that she had spent the entire period building intimate bridges with Murphy. And I was pretty sure that her ever increasing hesitation to talk to me could only be put down to the fact that she was starting to turn away from me and toward that unspeakable son-of-a-bitch.

In fact, as far as I was concerned, her “making out” with him on their Wednesday “date” was far worse than her fucking him on Friday, because what she was doing in that front seat was clearly love not sex. The clear problem of her emerging feelings for the mother-fucker raised a new set of troubling suspicions about her motivation for fucking him yesterday.  I put THAT on the list of something I would have to understand in order to get past this situation.

When I totaled up the “con” side of the ledger I could only conclude that we were not as close to resolving this as I had hoped. And I was sure that my concern about how she had become so immediately open and receptive to another man would end the marriage unless I was able to understand and accept how that attachment had evolved.

To be honest, in the end it was not the physical act of fucking the guy that I couldn’t get around. I sincerely believed that was the inevitable outcome of her raw emotions and Murphy’s careful choreography of the situation.

What I could simply not forgive or forget was the degree of personal intimacy that had passed between the two of them in that week. She had begun to share her special inner self with the guy and I am the only person who has a right to that part of her.

Other men have had her body. You accept that when you marry somebody that beautiful. But she had never given any other man intimate access to her sparkling soul. She had clearly given Murphy some level of that intimacy. And I knew that our marriage was at an end if she was not able to satisfactorily explain why that happened. So I went back to my room to make my own “date” for the following Wednesday.

Chapter Four: After the Fall

If you think that it is easy going through life looking like me I have news for you.  Try getting hints for your entire girlhood that you are worth nothing more than your beautiful face, and your glorious pair of tits. Then tell me what that does for your self-image?

Growing up, there was never any recognition that I was kind-hearted, or smart, or even hard working and capable. Instead people just kept staring at my chest and commenting about how “mature” and “developed” I looked.

In far too brief a time during the sixth and seventh grade, I went all the way up to a “C” from a bra size that was so small it was more like a sippy-cup.  My chest ached for two straight years. I was not fully grown and those things stood out on my tiny four foot eleven frame like the Grand Tetons.

They were absolutely embarrassing to a 13-year-old.  And short of cutting them off, which I seriously contemplated doing, there was no way I could hide them, particularly with the styles back then. As a result, I couldn’t walk down the hallway at my junior high school without some loser trying to either grab my boobs, or my ass.

Nonetheless, during the exploration of my own developing sexuality I DID learn three critically important things.

The first was that I had something that every male in the universe wanted. Even my daddy’s ancient friends would stare longingly at my overdeveloped bust. Worse, I had achieved that kind of ego-expanding power without any actual effort on my part; just good genetics. The intrinsic message that delivered can do serious damage to your soul.

I was only a few years out of my childhood for Christ’s sake. And there is nothing worse for a girl to get an inflated sense of her own entitlement from nothing more than the size of her tits. Nevertheless, my pretty face and ripe body also quickly led me to a second much more significant discovery; which was that boys will tell you anything when they are trying to get in your pants. 

Their lies never really worked with me. I am smart and even in my formative years I knew exactly what I had to offer. But the result was that very early on in my life I decided to never trust a single member of that treacherous sub-species called “men”.

All of my accumulated knowledge eventually led to the final most damning discovery, which was that I didn’t even have to actually give a guy anything in order to get him to do that I wanted. All I had to do was put out the POSSIBILITY and they would make Pavlov’s dogs look downright blasé.

So, I practiced my man-handling techniques throughout my teenage years. And since I could get the interest of any guy I wanted, I had a lot of opportunities to work on my game, even with the older ones. 

I viewed what I was doing as a learning experience, not developing manipulative behavior.  I knew that I would have to learn how to manage those simple minded creatures or surrender all of my free-will to one of them.  And of course nothing seriously sexual ever happened. I was way too full of myself to just randomly give it up to some horny male without a reason.

I finally had my techniques down to a point where I felt like I could safely take the definitive step. It was strictly my decision and nobody else’s. And it was definitely not the result of overwhelming passion. I just saw it as the right time to make the passage into adulthood. 

So I lost my cherry at my senior prom, three weeks after my 18th birthday. The boy lasted all of 10 seconds. But those were heretofore the most exciting 10 seconds of my life. I leaned from that experience that I absolutely LOVED sex.

The feeling of that thing sliding up into me was so exquisite that I had to have it again as soon as possible.  Needless to say, my boyfriend and I fucked the summer away. And his staying power improved along with my pleasure. By the time we went off to different colleges I could get him off twice a session, with a blowjob in between and I discovered that I was seriously multi-orgasmic.

Of course he was lying about being faithful to me. But that didn’t matter because I wasn’t planning on being faithful to him.

Growing up I had spent a lot of time in dance training. Dance was good for me. It had turned my butt into a big ball of muscle and my hips, legs and stomach were rock solid. I had finally reached my full height of five foot two inches and my chest had expanded another two cup sizes.

And I had discovered that I could get anything I wanted from any male on campus just by offering the prospect of fucking me. The feelings of power that gave a 19-year-old girl were deceptively gratifying. 

A lot of my less attractive girlfriends slept with anybody. I needed the same kind of constant fucking. But because of my fear of STDs and pregnancy I was very selective. I wanted a man who would fuck me a lot and who I could trust not to give me a disease or a baby.

So it always had to be with a single trustworthy sex partner. My looks let me carefully pick and choose who I slept with, which might indicate that I was sensible. But, most of my friends just thought I was stuck-up. 

Because I looked like I did I was regularly fucking the highest profile guys on campus; in a serially monogamous fashion. We would go together for months and then one, or both of us, would get caught cheating and we’d change partners.

I was by-far the one who was most frequently cheated on. That was mainly because I was serious about the studying and most of my partners were in school strictly to get laid.  It never mattered much to me when I moved on, because all I had to do was let the word out that I was available and I could pick through the new set of eager applicants until I found my next stud.

Nonetheless, that lengthy experience also enforced the fundamental belief that attractive men, particularly the Alpha Male types, couldn’t be trusted in a relationship. My first teaching job hammered that conviction home for me. It also marked the first time I experienced the pain of “big-league” cheating.  

I met Alex my very first day at work. He was the principal and he wanted to “welcome” me to the school.  I remember walking into his office feeling nervous and tentative and him rising gracefully from behind his desk to take me by the hand and lead me to a seat. His charm and wry sense of humor almost immediately put me at ease.

Alex was engaging and impressively knowledgeable. To say the least, he was handsome, well over six feet with dark good looks and a devilish smile. He was ten years older than me and he had been divorced for almost five years. I could immediately sense that he wanted more from me than my ability in the classroom.

At the end of my first school day he dropped down to my class and offered to take me out to get a bite to eat and debrief. It was all professional, principal stuff. The day had been stressful, as all first days are, and I really DID need to talk to somebody.

In fact, I have always turned to strong men when I am feeling vulnerable. Yes, it is probably a “daddy” thing. My daddy was always “there” for me no matter what. I know what you’re thinking and I want to assure you that I’m not THAT naive. Even back then I knew that there are no other daddies in your life except the one you were born with. The rest are just predatory males. Alex conclusively proved that to me.

He was single, and uber-sure of himself. He was also in a league of his own sex-wise. The seduction started with a lot to drink that evening. It then continued up to his apartment. And it concluded with him fucking me three times that night. I had never had orgasms like I had with him. And by the time the sun came up I was ready to face the onslaught of third graders with renewed vigor.

I was so overwhelmed that I would write Mrs. Janet McIntyre on my lesson plans like a 13-year-old girl. And I ached for his touch; so much so that I decided to surprise him at his apartment one sunny Saturday morning. Big mistake! I was breezing happily up to the door of his apartment, dressed in nothing but a trench coat and thigh high silk stockings, when I heard the sound of a woman being noisily and thoroughly fucked on the other side of it.

I thought to myself, “My God!! Am I that loud?!!” I frankly couldn’t decide whether to pound on the door until the cheating sleazeball answered it; or just slink away with my tail between my legs. Being who I am I went with what was behind door number one.

His eyes got as wide as saucers when he saw me. He had the good grace to actually turn a little red. I was already in the process of delivering the roundhouse slap that I had been saving up for him. That was all he saw before I stomped off back to my car crying like a little girl.

I sat there in the parking lot waiting for him and his floozy to come out. It took a couple of hours before they finally emerged from his place. They had a touching good-bye kiss and she drove off. He must have called me 100 times after that. I deleted all of his voicemails.  He had the good sense to avoid me at school. We both liked our jobs and I couldn’t guarantee my behavior.

The following Saturday morning I had just come back after an invigorating six mile run. I heard a knock at my door and Alex was standing there. He looked pathetic, like a puppy in a rainstorm. So fool that I am I let him in.

He dangled the usual line about how it was a one-shot thing, and how he only loved ME, and how devastated he was by my leaving him, and how sorry he was that he had hurt me, and how he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me.

I am sure all of the women reading this have heard the same bullshit before. Then he started to cry. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. What can I say? I was only 23 at the time.

We fucked all weekend. I have never had such an extended period of pure lovemaking. The Chinese delivery boy made daily trips to my doorstep and we never left the bed. He proposed and I accepted. I told him that I was his forever.

He was so dominant and masterful in the way he handled our life together that I was beginning to feel lost in him. But I didn’t care. He was making me feel so well-taken-care-of that I was in heaven. Then, two months later I happened to run into his fuck-buddy in a restaurant. She had never actually seen me. She had only witnessed Alex getting the slap of his life.

I couldn’t pass up the chance to learn some more about the floozy who had nearly ruined my upcoming nuptials. So I slid into the booth next to hers. She was effusively telling her friend about her lover who was, to quote her, “An orgasm machine”. My ears perked up because that was a pretty good description of Alex.

She went on-and-on about how frequently they fucked and the interesting places they did it in and how much he loved her. Then she put the final stake through my heart with, “And Alex has promised to marry me as soon as he ends his foolish engagement to that little teacher person at his school.”

To my credit I showed no emotion as I paid my tab and left the place. I cried for two hours in my apartment.  Then I dried my eyes, blew my nose, and sent the treacherous son-of-a-bitch an e-mail. It said, “Never contact me again. If you do I will make certain that you will never be able to use that pathetic little excuse for a penis, AFTER I tell the School Board what you did to me. Give my regards to your OTHER whore and tell her I enjoyed sitting next to her at the Hideout listening to her stories.”

He tried the same thing again. This time it didn’t work.

That event scarred my soul. It was humiliating to be lied to and manipulated like that. And Tom gave off the same vibe when I first met him. He was a totally confident and self-possessed alpha-male with the intelligence and wit of a major player with women.

Just like Alex, I loved what he did to me. And just like Alex, when we were in bed I couldn’t say “no” to him. I gave him whatever he wanted and to say the least he was creative.

But, unlike Alex he listened to me when we talked. He considered and respected my opinions and he involved me in decisions about his own life.  We were companions and friends as much as lovers and he seemed to really care about my happiness. He revealed his personal fears and vulnerabilities and I shared mine. Because we were so totally open with each other I came to believe that he would always be honest with me. And to say I loved him with my entire soul would be an understatement

It didn’t take very long for us to build that special little cocoon of tranquility and refuge that some fortunate couples have around them. Tom and I were the only occupants of that space and I put myself and my trust completely in his hands. Over 17 years, the thought that he would ever violate the gift of me and my love simply disappeared from my radar.

That is the reason why Murphy’s pictures had such an utterly devastating effect on me.

Some of you might think I am stupid not knowing that pictures could be altered. But I am an elementary school teacher. I have spent my life in a world of children and the kind-hearted people who care for them. And nobody in my world comes close to being as deceitfully selfish, or destructively vile as Murphy. 

Likewise, I never had a lot to do with computers. I leave all of that to Tom who is a genius at that sort of thing. All I use my computer for is to update my Facebook page and do on-line Legos for kids. It just never occurred to me to doubt what I saw. And of course I had my evil friend Mr. Murphy to help to “understand” what I was seeing.

So without any warning, or an opportunity to prepare myself, I was cast completely adrift in an unhappy world of total desolation that was both hostile and very lonely. His attack on me, and make no mistake it WAS an attack, was a perfectly executed example of the successful effect of totally unexpected overwhelming aggression. For years there had never been a he and she in my relationship with Tom. There had only been an “us”.  As a result, removing Tom from my life was like sawing open my head and taking out the rational side of my brain.

 And by destroying the unqualified center of my universe, Murphy had managed to put me into a situation where I would be utterly vulnerable to anybody who could give me anything stable to hang onto and help me recover my balance.

I know that I am over-emotional.  It has been a blessing and a curse. It lets me feel things profoundly but it also leads to unstable behavior. And I think it would be safe to conclude, from the fainting, vomiting, wild crying and rolling around in a fetal ball for the 24 hours prior to Murphy showing up, that I was completely out of my mind.

It is not uncommon for a wild Atlantic hurricane to be followed by a beautiful sunny day. That was the way I felt after crying on his shoulder when he arrived. Murphy brought security, equilibrium and friendship back into my life. He carried all of the good feelings of the past with him, the happy times that the three of us had had. And in many respects I started mistaking him for Tom.

I realize now that Murphy’s behavior was carefully calculated to seduce me. But at the time it almost seemed like he was offering a substitute for Tom. He treated me like I was worthy and valuable to him. He honored the fact that I was a person with feelings, not a fuck-toy and it played directly off all of the old insecurities about myself.

Those insecurities were rooted in every humiliating experience I had ever had with men; from Alex’s fucking around on me all the way back to the one-night stands that you hate yourself after. 

The instant I saw those pictures, the first thought I had was of me standing in the hallway of Alex Macintyre’s apartment dressed in nothing but a trench coat, heels and thigh high stockings, listening to him stab me in the back.

It was obvious from the evidence at hand that, for the entire time we had been together Tom had not been close to whoever he claimed to be. And the pain that inflicted on me was magnified seventeen times for every year we were married. He was dead to me for that betrayal.

I have to give Murphy credit. He played me masterfully. He knew how totally lost I would be without Tom. And as a result, he knew that I would feel unattractive lonely and forlorn. Of course he knew all of that because he had carefully engineered those feelings.

He was smart. Instead of putting on a full court press romance-wise, he worked hard to make me feel secure, attractive, loved and more importantly respected. The latter was the key to my downfall and Murphy played on it relentlessly.

For my entire life, nobody but Tom had ever given me the slightest amount of respect for who I was and what I had achieved. Murphy went right past my beauty and convinced me that he felt how deeply my soul was hurting. More importantly, he did it in a non-threatening asexual way; like he really cared for the fundamental me inside.

In some respects, my sailing date and the outfit I wore with Murphy was a character test. If he had tried to romance me that day I would have seen through him all the way down to his hound DNA. But instead of acting like every other horny male, he was caring, considerate and did all of the things that he needed to do to make me feel respected and worthy again.  And I fell for it.

Just like the people in that Stockholm bank I began to empathize very strongly with my victimizer. And by the time he took me dancing I was starting to see him as the only man who could restore the self-confidence and good feeling that Tom had so callously ripped from me.

Love is a term that has a lot of subjective meanings. But if one part of love is the desire to desperately cling to somebody in order to preserve your OWN sense of self, then Murphy had made me fall in love with him. And the inevitable result of that dependency worked itself out on his couch two days later: with me flat on my back and him deep inside me.

I knew it was treachery the moment we finished. And the look of smug satisfaction on his face only made my sense of guilt even worse. So I bolted out of his place like the proverbial scalded cat. His jolly reassurances about how much I would love it the next time should have tipped me off to what he was up to. But I didn’t pick up on any of that. I was too overwhelmed by the feelings of the twin betrayals; both Tom’s and at that moment mine.

For a week I had been on an emotional roller coaster. The high points were my “romantic dates” with Murphy. One low point was when I saw the pictures and took the practical step to end my idyllic marriage.

But no dip could compare to the “Oh-my God!” end of the ride, final descent into despair that came when Tom proved that the pictures were fake. It was then that, for the first time I saw the entire treacherous landscape. And I knew that the perpetrator of that deception was the person who I had entertained between my thighs the night before.

I had been battered and abused for ten straight days and the sense of horror I felt when I made that discovery just overwhelmed me. I was walking dead. I was so shocked that I was utterly unaware of my surroundings. And I didn’t come out of my fog until I saw him standing there. Then all I could see was a blinding red haze and I was seriously trying to kill him.

I knew that I had blown it. I had the fleeting thought that I could have covered it up. But I owed Tom the respect of letting him know what I had done.

He led me gently through the story and I told him EVERYTHING. At the end I broke down. He was justifiably angry. I was hoping he would hit me, or make me do degrading things; anything to punish me. But instead he proved how much he really loves me by simply taking himself away to think. In every respect his strength and rationality at that moment hurt me worse.

I was crying uncontrollably while he was upstairs packing. There was a part of me that was feeling very sorry for myself. I had been about as totally victimized as anybody could be and that wasn’t fair. But then some of the things that Tom had said began to sink in.

First and foremost, my fear and passivity through the entire situation had made it easy for Mr. Murphy to abuse me. Instead of being strong and taking affirmative steps to clear the situation up with Tom, I had turned in my weakness to Murphy, and he had happily led me to the very worst conclusion possible. That was, to my eternal regret, MY fault. As I began to think about it, I could see that it was my unresolved issues as a woman that had made me vulnerable.

First of all, I am arrogant. Women who look like me are used to getting a free pass from men. And so I was far too confident that the men in my life would always do the right thing by me simply because of my exceptional looks.

Secondly, I have no experience with genuinely evil people. I work in the gentle world of children and I have always had Tom to insulate me from the world’s unpleasantness.  My only role was to be appropriately grateful to my knight in shining armor, after he had dispatched the dragon.

As a result, I didn’t have nearly enough of the necessary wisdom and courage to protect myself when I had to fight my own battle. And it was that very dependency on a man to sort out my problems that was the root of my downfall, since it was the instinct to turn to a man for help that made me so quickly dependent on Murphy.

Finally, I just assumed I would be happy because happiness is something that all pretty girls deserve. I thought because I was a nice person, who had dedicated her life to children that nobody would EVER go out of their way to hurt me. Of course the gazelle is another lovely innocent animal, and it is the lion’s customary prey.

The conclusion was painfully obvious. I was 41-years-old and I really hadn’t grown up. But I was going to grow up now and I was going to dedicate what I had learned about myself to trying to make a new and better marriage with the man who was the love of my life.

That resolution strengthened my spine, dried my eyes and wiped my nose. I stood up absolutely unwavering and marched to the hallway. Tom was just bumping his big roller bag down the stairs. I walked silently out with him, trying to look firm and resolute.  He actually looked puzzled.

When we got to his car I had to tell him what I planned to do. I turned him by the arms to face me and told him that I knew I had to make changes, whether he decided to divorce me or not. Then I told him that the minute he wanted to talk about it I would be ready to deal with him openly, honestly and as an equal. I told him that there would be no whining or any more apologies. I told him that I couldn’t express how sorry I was.  And that there was no constructive point in my restating my grief and sorrow at the pain my actions had caused him. I told him that I knew I was at fault and that I was going to ruthlessly root-out the problem and fix it. Then I asked him whether he still loved me.

I knew that was not the same questions as “Will we ever be together again”. 

But I needed his love to give me the strength to repair myself. He looked at me sincerely and told me that he would ALWAYS love me. I knew then, that I had all of the armament I would need to take on my own demons.

I would have kissed him goodbye but I knew that he didn’t want that kind of closeness from me. So I simply stood and watched him leave. As he did I was trying to project my newfound dedication to my inner crusade. I would be a stronger and wiser person no matter what happened in our marriage.

Chapter Five: The Two Lovers Talk

I would have contacted Janet bright and early the next day. But, I had gotten the sense that Murphy had a few more bombshells tucked up his sleeve. And I was afraid that those might turn out to be even nastier than fucking my wife. So before I got around to dealing with my marriage issues, I wanted to first reassure myself that all of Murphy’s latent mischief had been identified and handled.

Thus, my first visit on Monday morning was to my system manager. He had his team working all night to go through the logical places where Murphy might have hidden malicious code and sure enough they found a back door. That little bit of grief was promptly exorcised.

He said that Murphy had attempted to access the system and then tried the back door for two hours, from about 3 AM on. Mr. Murphy must have been getting progressively desperate from the number of attempts he had had made.

The piece of shit had then tried to hack in through any available access point. Since my guys in the network control room were monitoring his attempts, the night crew played with him by offering him an open door and then slamming it in his face. Apparently I was the only person in the Company who DIDN’T know that Murphy was a total asshole.

THEN I dropped around to brief my security manager. He was drinking coffee in his office, joking with some of his guys. They were watching one of the monitors. All of my security people are either ex-special operations, or Blackwater operators. They are big tough men with a lot of intelligence. But they are not exactly refined when it comes to sense of humor.

What they were laughing about was Mr. Jim Murphy’s early morning visit to our place.

He had come screeching up just before sunrise and tried to bluff his way past the lobby guards. They had heard me loud and clear about the ten-foot rule. And they implemented that dictum by throwing Mr. Jim Murphy face first out the front entrance.

According to the guys he had then dusted himself off and disappeared around the back of the building. They were watching him in the pre-dawn darkness, using the night-vision monitors. When he got to the place where his former office had been, he picked up a big rock and threw it through the window.

Since that legally constituted trespass the guards felt justified in releasing the three Belgian Malinois we keep around to discourage such practices. Apparently Mr. Jim Murphy was a WELL KNOWN asshole.

We particularly like that breed for guard dog purposes. They are as smart as shepherds, as aggressive as Rottweiler’s, and as ruthless as Dobermans but they are a lot faster and more athletic than any of those breeds, and just a tad more vicious. 

Once a Malinois is tasked on somebody there is no escaping them short of shooting them.  And although rigid military discipline is bred into them, they have a creative sense of humor when it comes to how they execute their assignments. This was one of those instances.

I “got” what my guys were laughing at. We all watched Mr. Jim Murphy headed toward the woods.  Two of the Malinois were hustling him along by each arm, while the third appeared to have his fangs sunk in his ass. That dog actually looked like he was smiling at the camera.

The dogs dropped him at their proscribed perimeter. Murphy’s agitation as he hot-footed it into the woods behind our building was indeed comical. I told the guys that they were going to love their bonus. But I cautioned them to continue to be vigilant since Mr. Jim Murphy apparently had stashed something really juicy in his office.

An hour later I found out exactly what.

I was just beginning to address the question of how far into the Kim-Chee Murphy had dragged us when the audit report showed up. The fucker had been skimming accounts to the tune of about $2 million dollars. I asked the audit guy if he could trace the money and he said that it was wired to several accounts in the BCC, which is the National Bank of Cuba.

I was puzzled. It looked like Murphy was feathering his nest in a place where we couldn’t extradite him. That made some sense, but why Cuba? Murphy might have been good at seducing and fucking my wife but he was a total novice when it came to cyber-espionage. The first hint of what he was ACTUALLY up to came from my system guys. They said he was poking into files that were strictly off-limits to anybody but people with Yankee White clearance.

Those files are so far out of Murphy’s league that I knew they were his target. For an outrageous fee we guarantee secure hot-site backup of national security files. The secrets are locked down in our virtual safety deposit boxes. And we DO keep some heavy duty secrets.

The whole thing is a win-win. It is cheaper for the government to outsource national security backup operations to us. And assuring confidentiality of national secrets is one of our most profitable services. Most of what’s in the lock boxes comes from the White House, or DoD. Their stuff is delivered through secure pipelines. We just capture it in real-time as it is piped over from the source and then we guard it.  We are not authorized to access that data; let alone read, or copy it.

My system manager’s revelation provoked the original “Holy Shit!!!” reaction from me, which was followed by a panicked scramble down to Murphy’s former office. The maintenance people were JUST putting in the new window. So they were in the way. But it didn’t take an eagle eye to spot the laptop and high capacity portable hard drive lying on top of his desk.

It appeared that Murphy had graduated from a simple felony, all the way up to rendition to a Country with less liberal views about human rights. I just didn’t want to join him on that trip.

My system guys got permission from the Feds to look at the files on Murphy’s laptop and thumb drive. None of us had the clearance to know that they even existed, let alone read them. But since the government had to know ASAP what Murphy had tried to steal, we got their go-ahead to do an immediate forensic examination. Needless to say, we were only permitted to look at what was on the laptop. Touching any of their other stuff would have gotten us our OWN all-expense paid vacation at a SuperMax. 

If Mr. Jim Murphy wanted to get himself fitted for a CIA headbag it was up to him.  I just didn’t want any of my employees to end-up riding next to him in the nondescript white van. So I told the system manager to inform our Federal friends that I was going to do the forensic examination in isolation; all by myself.

One reason for my sudden, uncharacteristic attack of altruism was the fact that I owned the Company and I needed to limit our exposure. But the main reason was that I wanted to PERSONALLY collect the evidence that would put Mr. Murphy in an orange jumpsuit for the rest of his soon-to-be dreadful life. 

The reason why I am so wealthy is that nobody can hide anything digital from me. I didn’t go to school to learn that black art. In fact, no responsible institution of higher education would even consider teaching the things that I know. And I am definitely not a mathematical or any other kind of genius.

It is just that I am able to follow every one of the virtual footpaths and dive down all of the cybernetic rabbit holes in the darkweb.  And I can crack and read anything that has ever been recorded on a computer.  A normal citizen, even somebody as skillful as Murphy, is absolutely defenseless in the face of my Kung-Fu.

First, I opened up Murphy’s laptop to see what I could see. Inside I found the usual shit you would expect from a juvenile cockhound, including several candid pictures of Janet. Those were obviously taken by a cellphone. They were almost pornographic in what they showed of her tits and camel toe. I probably would have killed her if she had intentionally posed like that. But it was obvious that these were sneak shots of her by our pool, when she thought that she was alone.  I had to marvel at how totally hot my wife is.

The pictures and their timestamps made it clear how obsessed Murphy was with Janet and for how astonishingly long. And in reality I didn’t blame him. Looking at the pictures I could almost put myself in his treacherous shoes. But I was after bigger game here, not the detritus of Murphy’s over-prolonged adolescence. I found it buried so far down in his file structure that I would have missed it if he hadn’t encrypted it. To any forensic examiner, encrypting something is like putting a red tab on a file labeled, “Open this first!”

So I did.

I had to go to the binary level to crack his encryption and then after I had rebuilt the contents I had to spend a little time thinking about what I was seeing. What I saw was that Murphy had copied privileged communication between the DoD and the White House. It mainly concerned satellite surveillance over Central Cuba and some intel reports. 

Long-story short, it looked like an un-named Black-Ops agency was doing some kind of latter day Bay-of-Pigs thing in Cuba; and the Cubans wanted to know about it. They agreed with Murphy to trade that information for sanctuary in Cuba, and more money than he could count.

Murphy is not exceptional in any way. Maybe that is the reason why they chose him. Some external agent, I didn’t know who but I was sure that the Feds would sweat it out of him, had contacted the fool and asked for a clandestine meeting. Murphy was stupid enough to keep the entire message trail and that spelled deep shit for him.

I could understand why they would target Murphy. He was high enough in the company to have the access and he was a trusted underling, at least by ME. He was also clearly living the good life on a lot more money than he made with ME. So if you needed to recruit a willing pawn to steal the secrets from a Company like mine, Mr. Murphy would be a logical place to start.

The thing that enraged me was that he had specifically mentioned that he would be bringing Janet down there with him. Given Murphy’s obvious level of disconnect from reality and his general incompetence as a spook, I was willing to take that statement with a grain of salt. But I was still going to ask Janet about it. And a vigorous bout of waterboarding was not out of the question if I got ANY indication that she knew anything about Murphy’s plans for life in that socialist paradise.

By the end of the day we understood the entire gambit. Murphy indeed possessed very sensitive information, which was stored on his laptop and which he had copied to his thumb drive. The files on the computer were obviously the thing he was selling to the Cubans and the thumb must have been the backup. His up-close-and-personal experience with our dogs must have been a final freaked out attempt to get to the goods, after he had discovered we had shut off his access.

My last meeting on Tuesday was with six Klingons from the FBI. I had called them and told them what we had found. They raced over to our place like their tails were on fire. I gave their SAIC all of the evidence that would be necessary to send Mr. Murphy away for a very long time.

The SAIC was a big red faced guy with ex-military police written all over his beefy frame. The evidence I had gathered was presented to the Feebs in a tasteful morocco bound folder. I wanted a classy touch when I was sealing the fate of the guy who had managed to seduce my wife. 

When the head Feeb saw what we had, he straightaway removed the poker from his own ass and forthwith transferred it in red hot fashion to each and every one of his underlings. He said, “I want this thing sewed up tighter than your momma’s pussy by tomorrow morning. And I want James Murphy dressed in orange and in ADX Florence sooner than that. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

The five minions all nodded enthusiastically. It was in almost perfect harmony. I wondered if synchronized nodding was part of the FBI’s training. I mentioned - merely to be helpful you understand - “He has a big sailboat that can easily reach Cuba.” I didn’t add; “which my wife spent last Sunday parading around on in a bikini”. 

The look of sheer horror that came over the beefy Feeb’s face was priceless. As they left I heard the dude yelling into a phone, “I want Global Hawks and Reapers up and down the coast and if he resists drop a Hellfire on him.”  All in all, it was a very satisfying day.

I got back to the Hilton after the dinner crowd had left. The kitchen was still open and I was in the mood for a primo steak and a bottle of their best Cabernet. I ate a great meal in perfect solitude and thought about the past two weeks.

My guess was that the system would not be kind to Mr. Murphy. That led me to wondering about what he might have been planning for Janet. On the surface, it looked like he had been hoping to set himself up like a latter day Hemingway in that Bolshevik’s wet dream. He had two million of my dollars and the other ten million the Cubans would give him for his intel. That country is like they froze the 1950s in amber and twelve million Yankee dollars would be a vast fortune down there. 

Worse he looked like he had been very close to pulling it off. He had already stolen the intel. So all he had to do was tuck the laptop under his arm and then take a leisurely cruise down the East Coast and the 90 miles across the Straits of Florida.

He would have made it too, if he hadn’t over-reached with Janet. I could see why he wasn’t afraid of me. He was clearly planning on leaving for the People’s Democratic Republic of Cuba without bidding me a fond adieu. So it was immaterial whether I found out that he had framed me with her. On the other hand, Janet was obviously just too irresistible to him and that’s where his plans unraveled.

Looking at the situation rationally, it is completely crazy to think that he could get her to run away with him. Notwithstanding her buying his ploy with the pictures, Janet is an intelligent and level headed woman. Consequently, there is no scenario in the sane universe where she would say, “You are such a stud Murphy that I would love to abandon every vestige of my life and run away with you to an un-named Marxist utopia”.

That was a totally laughable idea, particularly if you knew Janet. But it did indicate how far out of touch with reality Mr. Murphy had gotten. Nevertheless, she is a beautiful and truly sensual woman. So I could see where Murphy could be arrogant and delusional enough to hope he could just fuck her into coming with him.

And if that didn’t work, I was sure that plan B was to drug her long enough to get her to a place where she couldn’t get back. THAT concept made my head explode.  But what Murphy had NOT counted on was my spitfire wife.

He had expected her to just go in the house, confront me, and then come stomping out into his slimy embrace. He had not expected her to allow me to see the evidence, which just goes to show you how much he really understood about our relationship as husband and wife.

Janet is totally forthright and honest and it would never occur to her to hold anything like that back from me. I might add that Murphy ALSO should have known that Janet would have spent a leisurely afternoon staking me out over an ant-hill while she lovingly spread honey on my balls. That is - if I HAD admitted cheating on her. She would never have just gone with him.

Janet had realized that she had been played the instant that I showed her how her “evidence” had been manufactured. Most women would have clammed up like the Sphinx, since at that point I didn’t suspect anything. Instead she tried to scratch his eyes out and remove his testicles. Her trying to kill him let the cat out of the bag for HER. But if she had NOT done that, Murphy would have probably skated down to Cuba with her tied up in a bunk and with me and my company on the hot seat with the Feds. 

So in an ironically twisted way Murphy screwed himself by screwing Janet. I slept very well that night. I picked Janet up from our house at 8:00 AM. She had gone all out. She looks gorgeous in a pair of sweats just lounging around the house. But she is incredible when she has done all the things that women do to enhance their looks.

When I say that Janet is beautiful I have science on my side. Janet’s face is right on the golden ratio, also known as Phi, or 1.618. It has something to do with the proportional harmony of her facial features. That ratio has been the geometric index for beauty for 3,000 years

She had her dark brunette hair pulled back from her perfect oval face. She had done the thing with her remarkable eyes that make them look like deep hazel pools of intelligence.  And the rest of her was artfully made up in the unpretentious way that gives you the impression that she is the world’s most beautiful girl next door.

I interpreted from how she was dressed that she was telling me that she was ready for an earnest discussion, not sex. We had solemn issues to resolve; the prospective end of a marriage is always a troubling time. So I appreciated the fact that she was not trying to use her sexuality as a lever. We didn’t talk much on the way to the boat. She just sat there staring pensively out into the slowly passing fields and woods.

It was one of those classically beautiful sunny midsummer days on Long Island, when the insects buzz, the leaves are frosted by the bright sunlight and the fresh smell of the grass and fields just seems to wrap you in an embrace of peace and contentment.

The fourth of July was a couple of days away and the holiday crowds were starting to get thicker as we neared the water. I kept rehearsing what I was going to say and each time it came out different. I was dealing with my feelings here, not my ability to rationalize the situation, so I didn’t have the words.

I was aware that it was how I FELT that was the problem.  The fact was that I just couldn’t get my emotions around to a place where I was truly comfortable with her any more. My head had thought the whole situation through and decided with absolute assurance that she was well within acceptable boundaries when it came to fucking the guy.

I truly believed that she was as much a victim of the situation, as she was an active participant. She had been tricked, manipulated and put through emotional hell. So, it was almost a foregone conclusion that a passionate woman like Janet would finish the week flat on her back with him inside her. And although I was enraged short-term at the thought of Mr. Jim Murphy stealing into the part of her that has been my exclusive domain for the past seventeen years, I was willing to get over it. 

The crucial, and in most respects the ONLY real problem was that I didn’t feel like she was my lover, friend, or companion anymore; or perhaps had EVER BEEN. In short, I didn’t think of her as my wife.  There was an emotional wall between us that I recognized I couldn’t break through. But I couldn’t put it into words.  That barrier was there because she had been SO willing to become SO emotionally intimate with the cocksucker in such a short time.

The images of her flirting with him and dancing with him and kissing him and cooking for him and her clinging to him and his holding her tenderly protectively while she cried just killed me. Then you had to add in the fact that the two of them had wined and dined, spent a day on the ocean and visited an attorney and fucked like bunny rabbits, all while I was sitting alone at home watching baseball and wondering what the hell had happened.

Her rapid fall into that asshole’s arms could only mean one of two things. She was either much more intellectually and emotionally limited than I had ever imagined. Or she had never come close to loving me like I had loved her. The evidence was all on the side of the latter conclusion.

The way I loved Janet, I could not; and unfortunately for my future prospects probably never will, develop an emotional attachment to another woman.  My connection with her is so total and profound that it is almost as if we are a single entity. And that cannot be duplicated.

So there was no possible way I could abandon that bond in a lifetime, let alone form a romantic connection with a new woman within a short week.  Nonetheless that was exactly what SHE had done and her ability to do it was just inconceivable to me.

There was no getting around the feeling that I just didn’t matter enough to her. She appeared to be far too willing and able to swap Tom out and swap Jim in; like we were replaceable husband-modules. And there is no way I could stay married to somebody who didn’t share my love in equal portions. 

I was open to her explaining what had made her do that. But I am an intellectual. I have to wrap my mind around an explanation before I can accept it as valid. And I was certain that there was no short term way for her to justify her actions.

The only purpose of the day was to talk about NEXT steps. I wanted to get us away from everything normal and familiar in order to try to find a way to make things work between us. I still wanted to be with her and only her.  But I didn’t know how to get there without totally sacrificing my OWN self-respect.

Basically, I was NOT going to invite her back under the old rules for our marriage.  So we had to work together to find a resolution that I could live with viscerally and if we didn’t I was ready to accept the consequences of our failure as final and irrevocable. 

I had already told my lawyer to begin to negotiate with the guy who she had so hastily hired. I told him to finalize the decree. And it didn’t make me feel any better when my lawyer told me that Janet’s lawyer had been briefed well in advance that Murphy would be bringing somebody in for a quickie divorce and that the lawyer should, “grease the skids”. 

Hustling somebody out of a marriage wasn’t exactly against the ABA code of ethics but that fact DID substantiate that Janet had given Murphy enough of an indication of his impending success that he could already brag about it to his college chum. I believe his exact words were, “I am going to be fucking my boss’s hot wife as soon as we leave here.”

My response to that discovery was to rent a beautiful little condominium on the other side of the same woods that Murphy was last seen disappearing into. It was on a hilltop. It had a pretty stream and a view across open scenery toward the ocean, and I could walk the quarter mile to work every day. 

It might seem a little cold to go into a discussion about saving a marriage while implementing your exit strategy. But I am most comfortable when I am out in front of a situation. And I actually thought that it might be easier to work this out, if the basic architecture of our alternate future was already in place.

The one thing that I knew for sure was that whatever progress we made today, I was not going back home with Janet tonight. In the guy world, a man’s boat is part of the eternal dick measuring contest. In that respect mine was both longer and thicker than Murphy’s.  At least that knowledge gave me some solace. I thought bitterly that only Janet could tell me how we compared on the other measure.

This had been our boat for a long time and we were used to the boarding and settling in routine. I pulled us out of the marina on the diesels and we headed offshore to the widest part of the Sound off of Rocky Point.  When we got a couple of miles offshore I dropped the anchor. It used up over 150 feet of line but we were steady on an expanse of water that was like a sheet of rippling glass in the summer sunlight.

Janet had remained silent as we went through our boating rituals. When the anchor was down and secure I said, “Do you want to talk out here, or down in the cabin? She was sitting on the bench nearest the navigator’s station with her gorgeous legs tucked gracefully up, like every woman can, and no man would even think about attempting. I thought to myself, “Women; the flexible sex!”

She said, “Wherever you are the most comfortable.” I said, “I like bright places to discuss dark things, so let’s do it here.” She winced and said, “I have been dreading this moment for four days and I have been praying non-stop since the minute you left me. Can you tell me what you are thinking?”

Like I said, Janet is a smart girl. She had placed the ball squarely in my court and I would be the world’s biggest pussy if I tossed it back to her. I said, “I have thought about the situation every way I can and I have to tell you that your fucking that guy is not a problem for me.”

I quickly added, “It would have been a huge problem if there had been a second time, or if you had given him your body the way you always do with me. But I am convinced, and I have Sarah’s testimony to semi back it up that what happened was a quickie that took place in the heat of the moment.”

I said, “In fact because of the way you were manipulated I actually consider what happened to be very close to a rape. So I am giving you a onetime pass on this. I will not spend any more time thinking about it and I will not be blue-bugging your phone to check up on you.”

I said with threat in my voice, “Needless to say if anything like this ever happens again, don’t even think about talking to me about it, no matter what good reason you have.”

The look of profound relief that spread over her face nearly brought a tear to my eye. But my heart was already hardened for the important part of the discussion. I wanted to have her lay her cards down now and then I would decide which direction the discussion would go.

So I looked her in the eye as frankly as I could and said, “Now it’s your turn.”

Chapter Six: Janet Explains her Problem

When Tom picked me up, my first reaction was alarm. For the past 17 years we have had a deep subliminal connection.  It is a sort of subconscious link between him and me that we have had since the first day we met. That connection was utterly dead and I was terrified. 

I had spent three and a half days doing continuous soul searching and I had a lot to tell him. I might add that none of it reflected well on me. But if he was unable to get past the simple fact of my cheating I was doomed, no matter what I had discovered about myself.

I got in his car and we drove the 15 miles to the marina.  It was a beautiful day and I concentrated on looking away from him out the window. I was afraid of what I might see in his face. He said nothing to me in the half hour it took to get from our house to the boat.

We have been sailing together for 15 years and so the process of getting out into the Sound is almost automatic. He does his jobs and I do mine. We were silent throughout. I had gone from dread to sheer terror.  I was frightened the entire week after those pictures first arrived. But I had no idea what fear was like until now.  I thought I was going to throw up.

We motored out of the bay and into the Sound and then we set the sails. In about twenty minutes we reached a point in the open water where there was no ship traffic. In fact, you couldn’t see anything but water for miles around us.  Tom deployed the anchor. The sun was hot, but being out on the water made it pleasant, not uncomfortable.

I was so agitated that I couldn’t stand up any longer. So I sat down on the side bench nearest the navigator’s table. Tom asked me where I wanted to talk. I told him that right here in the sunlight was as good a place as any.  I told him that I HAD to know what he was thinking.

He started out by telling me that he could forgive me for my actions with that evil man. He said that he was not happy I had fucked him. But that he could see how I was manipulated into it and that he truly believed that what I had done was an aberration; the result of a rare alignment of malevolent stars. He cautioned that it had better NOT happen again, which I suppose I deserved but it hurt to hear it anyhow.

My heart sailed into the sky like a kid’s balloon. I would have started to cry with relief except I had vowed to be brave for him and I had important insights that I needed to share.  He turned to me with an oddly forbidding look on his face and said, “Now it’s your turn”.

I had been rehearsing my speech for hours. Except now I was tongue tied. I was sitting there looking at the deck without the slightest idea of what to say. So I started in with the obvious. 

I said, “I love you. I have loved you from the day I met you. I will never stop loving you. I have thought about what motivated me to act the way I did and I have some ideas that I want to share with you. But we have always worked through the problems in our life together and I need you to help me with this.”

I asked him, “Do you believe in your heart of hearts that I thought that those pictures were real. That I had no idea you could manufacture “proof” like that?”

He looked at me lovingly and said, “Yes, I have lived with you long enough to know that you are a total idiot when it comes to digital things. They looked authentic on the surface; even to me. And there is nothing in your entire history that would lead you to suspect the kind of treachery that you were facing.”

 I said, “So you agree that I believed that you had betrayed me in the most hurtful way possible.” He said. “I know how I would feel if I saw pictures of you doing that. I’d be shocked and disheartened beyond any possibility of redemption. It would destroy everything that I held sacred in my life.”

He added, “And before you ask the question I can tell you that I would think that I had never known you in the first place. I recognize that was how you must have felt and I can relate to your state of mind. I would be completely overwhelmed.” I said with such extreme emotion in my voice that it even surprised me, “That is only part of it.” He looked puzzled.

I started out, “It might seem incredible to you, as it does to me now, that I would immediately turn to another man, given how much we have meant to each other. But I am the pretty girl. I have always been able to manipulate men. They’re like dogs. All I have to do is give them is a little scratch behind the ears, and they eagerly do whatever I want them to do. So I have been conditioned to always have a man take care of any unpleasant situations for me.”

I added with sadness in my voice, “That power has made me weak, because, I never learned to swim in troubled water. All my life I have counted on my beauty to insulate me from everything bad in this world. Oh, it was never the actual beauty. But because of my face and figure I have never had to fight my own battles. All I had to do was play the damsel in distress and hordes of white knights would ride to my rescue. I NOW realize how shamelessly I used that ploy.”

I said with love, “You filled THAT role for me for the past 17 years. And you made my world a haven of peace, contentment and absolute security.  I am proud to be your wife and happy to spend a career working in a place where I can be dedicated to making children happy.”

Then I added, “Nevertheless, I am ashamed to admit that my complete dependence on you made me utterly helpless in the hands of somebody smart enough to see that I was hollow inside. So, when I thought you had betrayed me I was adrift in a hurricane. And Murphy was there like the proverbial life raft to save me from drowning.”

Then I stopped and looked at him with sincerity. I said, “My subsequent actions have convinced me that even though I appear to be a mature woman, I have the personal strength and integrity of a child. Without a man around to protect me I am naïve, fragile and exposed to the dangers of the world.”

I added sadly, “Given my personal weakness, imagine how alone and frightened I was when you were removed from my life. Then you will understand what drove my actions that week. I was beyond panic stricken and so I naturally turned to a man to solve my problems.”

I said, trying to maintain my resolute tone of voice, “I was sure you had abandoned me and I was completely lost. I called Murphy because he was YOUR friend, not mine.  I thought he could be trusted because YOU trusted him. And he straightaway became my emotional prop in your absence. And before you go to the trouble of pointing it out, I am not missing the fact that I must have associated him with you, since he got through my defenses a lot faster than normal.”

I said, “He had plenty of time in advance to plan the seduction and because I am weak and naive he easily led me to my downfall.  He was totally non-threatening and he seemed to sincerely care about my pain. And let me assure you that I was feeling very, VERY sorry for myself during that period. So his sympathy especially resonated with me.”

I added, “More important, and God forgive me for this, I absolutely hated you for what I thought you had done to me. He kept whispering in my ear that the pictures were only the tip of the iceberg. He said that you had betrayed me numerous times before, but he just didn’t have the proof like he had this time.”

I grimaced and said, “I would have spoken to you right away if he had not kept waving that ‘proof’ in my face. Every time I suggested talking to you he would drag out a new horror to show me. I know now that he was just keeping me on a leash by stoking the fires of my jealousy. But at the time it seemed like he was the only caring friend I had and I absolutely didn’t know who YOU were.”

I added, “And he always came off as somebody who cared about BOTH of us. He did a masterful job of acting the reluctant and embarrassed friend every time he showed me a new picture, like he was ashamed to be the one to tell me. He left the impression that although he loved you he simply could not sanction your behavior, like he was the moral son dismayed by the actions of his older brother.”

I said, “And because I trusted him I let him lead me into a view of the situation that he had consciously designed to make me as totally dependent on him as I had previously been on YOU. You don’t need to tell me. I know that he should never have been able to so easily shove me off course. I should have been steering by my own internal compass and strong enough to make the right decisions. But because I was so dependent on you I couldn’t handle your betraying me and I threw myself into the arms of any friendly face willing to help me cope.” 

I continued with, “IF I had had the courage to stand up for myself I would have immediately involved you in the discussion. You are my husband and you are the person who I had pledged my trust to. I want you to understand that I recognize and accept that it was my lack of personal strength that put me where I am now. And I know that I will have to become a stronger and more independent woman before I will trust myself, let alone ask YOU to trust me. But I have no way of even knowing where to begin building those qualities into my life. That is where I hope you can help me.”

I looked at him pleadingly and said, “I want to be better for you because I am sure that without the confidence to face things there will be another time; a time when I will be challenged and fail again.”

Then, realizing what I had just implied I said with horror, “I don’t mean to suggest that I will EVER be unfaithful to you. Experience is the key for me. Ever since I was a teenager I have had every kind of man, old, young, handsome and ugly constantly hitting on me at every public situation, or social event. But from long experience I know what they are doing and I am expert at deflecting them.”

I added, “I thought that I had experienced every conceivable trick a man could pull to get into my pants, but those were like simple flirtations compared to what Murphy did to me. He attacked me through YOU. He knew that you were the center of my life. So when he made me doubt you I was totally lost. I am not an intellectual like you are. I have to experience something in order to recognize it and now that I have experienced Murphy’s kind of deceit I can assure you that I will never be fooled that way again.”

Finally, I said, “I know that I will never doubt you; EVER. But I cannot go through life being so easily manipulated by people because I lack the strength and integrity to think for myself. I would rather die than hurt you again. And I am terrified that I will get pulled into another situation where I do that very thing. So I need to fix the part of me that won’t face unpleasant things. In short I am going to have to learn to cope independent of you.”

Then I turned my sad gaze at him and said hesitantly, “So maybe I need to live by myself for a while until I am confident that I am a grown woman with the courage to do the right thing. I swear to you that I am suggesting this only because I want to grow to be the person you deserve. I am not interested in another man and it would kill me to not be with you.”

I added, “But I want the old bond between us back and there is no other way I can see reestablishing it, except by re-earning your trust. I know I destroyed our special married connection by my actions. I want to prove to you that you can trust me again. The only way that I can think to do that is by proving to BOTH of us that I can handle life without you.”

He fell back in his seat like I had slapped him. He seemed surprised and I thought I detected a hint of pride in his eyes. He sat for a long time with his hands clasped staring at the deck in front of him. 

Finally, he said, “What you just said is a very good start. I was afraid that you were going to react to my forgiving you like that meant that we could go back to business as usual. And that was simply not going to happen. I really, honestly, sincerely don’t care if you fucked the guy. Well actually I do A LOT. But I can forgive THAT because I can see exactly how it happened and I believe that you are a lot wiser now.”

He added, “What really hurts is that you semi-fell in love with another man over the short period of one week. The visions of you dancing romantically and tenderly with him and making out with him and parading around seductively in front of him keep me awake at night. And I have not been able to get rid of the anger that I feel every time I think about it.”

He said, “It will take a while, if ever, for me to get over your willingly sharing your special self with that asshole. I can appreciate that he worked very hard to worm his way that close to you. But the fact that you so easily fell into the trap is something that I simply can’t understand or forgive right now. And that is what we have to resolve before we can ever get our marriage to the way it was.”

He said, “What you just told me gives me a much better idea of why that was even possible.  I realize that you have always been dependent on men. And with a face and body like yours I can understand why men would be falling all over themselves to slay whatever dragons needed slaying. Hell, I have been proud to be your knight in shining armor for the past 17 years.”

He smiled grimly and said, “So, I suppose that if I suddenly morphed from white knight to dragon in your eyes, it would be natural for you to turn to somebody else to handle the problem. And it speaks well for you that you recognize that it is your essential lack of personal integrity that is the root of the problem.”

He added, “I can see where you are going to have to build up your self-confidence if you are ever going to be a true other half of this marriage. I also believe that the only way you can grow stronger is if we do NOT fall back into the same old married routine. I want to add that I admire your courage in seeing that; and wanting to take the first affirmative step to solve the problem.”

He said, “To be honest though, I would have taken that step for you since there is no way I can simply ignore the past two weeks.”

Then Tom looked speculatively at me, like he had more to say but wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I thought “Oh shit!!”

He looked seriously at me and said, “Murphy is on the run from the Feds. He has been a very bad boy and as a result he is probably looking at life in a Federal prison.”  I gasped. I had no idea I was playing with that kind of fire.

Tom looked even more penetratingly at me and said, “Murphy was planning on setting up housekeeping in Cuba and he told the Cubans that you would have to come along with him as part of his deal.”

Frankly, I didn’t even know what Tom was talking about. I said, “I don’t understand, I don’t know why he would mention my name? Are you implying he thought I would just run away with him to Cuba?”

Tom said, “Apparently he thought that you were attached enough to him that you would be willing to go along to his new residence.”

I was absolutely horrified. I said, “You don’t believe that I would even think of that for a second do you?”

He said, “Apparently Murphy believed it sufficient enough that it was written into his deal with the Cubans, he named your name.”

I said, “I did nothing but dance with the man and make out with him once; well okay, I fucked him once too. But I have been more intimate with the boys I dated in college. In fact, he got a lot less from me than my prom date 23 years ago. How in the world would he think I even loved him, let alone love him enough to leave YOU for him? He must have mental problems!”

Tom said, “The mental problems are a given, but keep in mind that you bought most of what he was selling.”

I said, rather indignantly, “I was clinging to him to keep my OWN sanity but that was all there was to it. At best I liked him.  But I didn’t love him. I told him after we fucked that it would never happen again, EVER! That was because I loved YOU and only you. I told him that I would always be YOURS no matter what, even if you didn’t want me anymore. I made that clear in no uncertain terms.”

Tom looked at me like I had answered some more important questions for him. He said, “Please understand that there is only one woman in the world for me and that is you. I don’t feel that way because you are so physically attractive. I fell in love with you because I adore that sweet, kind, cheerful giving soul of yours, the one that spends its life nurturing children and her husband. And I will never permit any other man to share that part of you. It was the easy intimacy that you so speedily established with Murphy that is killing me.”

He said, “I understand NOW that it was a fundamental weakness that led you into Murphy’s arms. I have to admit that I have plenty of those kinds of flaws myself. So I can certainly relate to your explanation and I am not judging you. More importantly, now that you want to prove that you can be brave. I only love you more for your resolve. I pledge to you that I will be there every step of the way in rebuilding the bond between us and I will never give up on that quest.”

He added with determination in his voice, “Nonetheless, I have already made plans to move to another place and I have finalized the decree. All we would have to do is sign it.”

That struck a note of total horror. With tears in my eyes I wailed, “You are actually divorcing me?”

He said, “Only if that is what it takes to make you independent. We don’t need to take that final step if we can live apart for the next couple of months and we can be certain to both of our satisfaction that you can cope with life after that.”

He said, “I think that we both realize that the only way you can learn to stand on your own two feet is if I am completely out of the picture, not hovering in the background like a rescue helicopter. We don’t need to get officially divorced in order to do that. If we can live separate lives, totally disconnected, that would probably work too. But you simply cannot assume that I will buffer you from life anymore.”

The old version of me would have burst into tears and then been incoherent for a while. But the new me judiciously considered what he had said. I recognized that I was not going to grow as a person if I was still always in Tom’s shadow. So the living alone was a given. 

And I honestly believed that we had agreed on the steps necessary to resolve this crisis. More importantly, I was committed to making our plan work.

We would live apart, totally separate; until I could prove to myself and Tom that I had achieved the necessary confidence and self-sufficiency to cope with life on my own.  It would be difficult but Tom would support me in my efforts. Still, he would not fight my battles. I knew I could make this work and I was overjoyed at the prospect of proving I could do it.

However, there was another important issue that I wanted to explore with Tom. Given the fact that he was about to file divorce papers on me, the desire to continue to have sex with my husband probably sounds sad and pathetic. But, I hoped to keep our physical relationship alive during the separation.  We have never had problems when it came to physical compatibility and I am a very sexual woman.

So I wanted to find out if the physical side of our marriage had been damaged by the events of the past couple of weeks. In my mind those are two separate situations. Good emotional balance in any relationship takes hard work, communication and a refined sense of what the other person is thinking. On the other hand, the physical side is just a matter of whether you want to be physically intimate with the other person or not. My vote was for continued intimacy.

In the end the physical part of the marriage is just sex. Obviously a loving relationship turns the sex into something much more special than just fucking. But it is a physical function. No emotions are involved.  So I decided to raise the question. I said tentatively, “Could we at least go on ‘dates’ and have sleep overs once in a while?”

He smiled like he thought I was joking. Then he looked at me angrily and said, “You are not going to get me to change my mind by fucking me”.

I said with some annoyance, “I am more committed to making this work than you are. After all, it’s MY life we are talking about here. I know that sex between us is a hot button. And you might think that I am nuts bringing up sex when my fucking somebody else was what caused the problem in the first place. But this is a situation where I want our physical connection to buttress our emotional bond through the times we are apart.” 

I added sadly, “I accept that we are living separate lives now. And I absolutely want to prove my fidelity. I can control my sexual urges for two months or however long it takes in order to do that. And I can do it without you fucking me during that time. After all, the thought of going outside of the bounds of holy matrimony never crossed my mind in the 17 years I spent with you. And if you remember, you traveled a lot at the beginning of our marriage. That isn’t the point here.”

 I said, “I know to the depths of my soul that there will never be anybody ELSE but you. And I know that we can make this rebuilding process work. But the thought of being apart from you in my day-to-day life just devastates me. I don’t see how our having an occasional love-making session during the time we are leading single lives will have any impact whatsoever on my learning to become a stronger, more confident person.  In my mind it will do nothing more than sustain both of us in our efforts to make this work.”

I finished with, “The one thing that I am absolutely confident of is my own sexuality and I know with absolute certainty that I can separate our profound husband and wife issues from the simple physical act of love. Don’t you think that YOU will feel a lot better if we have some passionate loving from me to tide you over during the time we are repairing our emotional ties? Or are you so committed to us being completely apart that you can’t share anything with me?”

He considered what I had said with his usual seriousness and then said. “This is against my better judgment since it should be obvious to both of us that a physical relationship does not represent a clean break. But I am NOT trying to make a permanent break with you. I am trying to regain my faith in what we used to have.” 

He smiled and said, “You know that I’m a guy. All guys can separate the physical from the emotional aspects of a relationship and you are so strikingly sensual that you could give a stone idol a hard-on. But if we DO have sleepovers those would truly just be sex, not love. Can you do that?”

I think the eagerness in my voice convinced him that I was sincere when I said, “Absolutely! If you would be willing to fuck me right here and now I can prove that. LOVE would not have anything to do with it.” 

Then I stood up, walked to him, aggressively threw my hands over his shoulders and kissed him. I didn’t hug him. I completely opened my body and pressed it against him and the kiss reflected my need for him, nothing more. He was still holding a little back from me so I went looking for his tonsils.

Finally, we broke the kiss and looked deeply into each other’s eyes. We could both see that our profound physical bond was there as strong as ever. And then the passion took over. It was more overpowering than I had ever felt it.

There is a relatively large bed at the end of the galley. We more-or-less fell through the cabin door, with me yanking at his belt and him tugging at my blouse as we stumbled toward the bed. We both had dropped our shoes as we fell in the cabin door.

He had unbuttoned most of the buttons of my blouse by that point and my boobs in their fancy lace bra emerged. He gazed at them like he had never seen them before. I shed the blouse and reached frantically behind me to unsnap my bra.

My breasts fell out and he took the time to worship each breast individually, licking and nipping, which gave both of us the opportunity to clear the decks below. His attention to my nipples was turning me into a raving beast. We were now completely undressed and he was on one elbow next to me gawking at my naked body.

I was looking at his face, now totally lost in his own desire. He moved between my legs which I gracefully raised off the bed to the classic fucking position.

As he did so I could smell the fragrance coming off of his upper body. It was the golden smell of good health and masculine strength, like fine leather but with overtones of woods, fields and sun. It was erotic as hell; while my womanly scent was driving us both insane.

He hesitated like he wanted to savor the moment but it had been too long since I had had him inside me and I needed him. I reached between us and impatiently jammed him into me.

Then I opened myself to him totally. I spread and raised my legs even wider and rotated my hips so that he was touching bottom deep inside me. At the same time, I kissed him with a fully open mouth that invited him inside the other end of my body. We were intimately joined at both ends.

I came the second he entered me. I have never had that happen before in my extensive, sexual experience. The little part of me that was still rational whispered that it was the re-affirmation of the connection. But frankly the reasons were secondary to the sense of completeness that I felt as he slid up into me, and the sense of loss that I felt as he withdrew.

He has told me that my pussy is the hottest and wettest one he has ever fucked. It clamped on him and didn’t want to let him go and then I came again, a little bit harder. The instant he slid into me he had set off flickering contractions that were like heat lightning on the horizon on a hot summer evening.  Then I began to breathe very loudly and deeply.

I gasped loudly as he began to move, emitting little ahhhs with each stroke. Oddly, I could hear a woman moaning loudly in the background but all I could think about was how to get him further into me. I wanted him to be so totally a part of me, deep inside where I could hold him and love him, with every ounce of my soul.

I felt conscious control slipping, my hips were bucking and spasming like they belonged to somebody else and I could feel my butt muscles clenching and unclenching like some kind of berserk machine. The moans and gasps and frantic bucking continued for a short time and then I came again.

It was nothing spectacular, just a loud groan, a tightening of the grip of my thighs on his hips and the clenching of my internal muscles. In the meantime, he had picked up the pace. When I stopped coming I went back to moaning so loudly that I was sure that anybody within a two-mile radius of the boat could hear me.

I was making so much noise telling him to fuck me that the little lady in my head, who I have always suspected was my mother, tut-tutted about my unladylike behavior. I didn’t care. I was lost in feeling him move inside me and I wanted him to know that I was his forever.

My legs, which were at that moment spread eagled widely, began to wave restlessly in the air and my feet were flexing continuously with his thrusts. That told me that I was winding up to another much bigger orgasm. 

I wanted it to never stop. But stop it did and in an unquestionably remarkable fashion. I could feel a contraction coming from a galaxy long-ago and far-far-away. When it arrived I totally blew up, like the Death-Star. 

All rational thought ceased while my psyche processed the sheer, raw sensation. It was so profound that could feel the contradiction of teetering on the brink of unconsciousness while wildly throwing myself around underneath him at the same time. I heard myself began to yell, “Ahhhh yes, Mmmmm!! Fuck me baby!! I’m YOURS baby!! I’ll ALWAYS be YOURS!!”

Meanwhile I was in the grip of some kind of nuclear orgasm. I was bucking all over the bed, grunting gasping and panting, while my pussy convulsed with spasms of ecstasy and I wildly clawed his back.

If the sensation of coming had lasted a few more seconds, I would have actually passed out. But luckily things peaked just as I was slipping away and I was left doing the passionate deep breathing that I do after I have finished a particularly intensive physical dance routine.  My contractions and rapturous shaking went on for several minutes.

He rolled off me and said, “Whew!”

I said, “Whew!”

He said, “You have always been the hottest fuck in America if not the entire universe. I had forgotten how incredible you are. These past two weeks had pushed that to the back of my memory.”

I said, “Well put that memory right in the front of your brain because I am going to fuck you like the free and independent woman that I am now. We are going to make me stronger. But that is a process; not a destination. Nevertheless, I simply can’t live without you fucking me throughout the project.”

He looked serious for a minute and said, “I am never your fuck-buddy. I am still your husband and you are my wife. We have issues to resolve but remember that we pledged to exclude all others.”

I said, “There will be no others but you, ever! But keep in mind that I am a passionate woman. I will live without sex if that is what it takes to keep you. But think about how much you would be hurting me when all you need to do is give me what I need with no strings attached. We are both adults and we can separate what that part of our relationship means.”

“In my mind you fucking me regularly is just part of you helping me on my voyage to self-discovery, which we both concede I need to make. This is absolutely NOT some veiled attempt to fuck you back to me without my resolving my problem. I give you enough respect to know that you are not that weak and I don’t even WANT you under those conditions.” He dressed slowly. I had some serious cleaning to do and so when I stepped out on deck to join him I was showered and fresh as a daisy and happy for the first time in a fortnight.

Chapter Seven: New Information in a Cheater’s Paradise

I sailed back to the marina with a much sunnier outlook on life than what I had when we left. Mind-blowing sex with my stunning wife would lift the spirits of the undead. More importantly, I was sure that Janet and I had done the right thing in our efforts to recalibrate our marriage.

It was hard to blame Murphy for trying. No male on the planet would miss Janet’s spectacular face, figure or smoldering sexuality. And I am sure that most of the men she has encountered in life have had fleeting thoughts about what it would be like to seduce her.  They just didn’t act on them.

But that is in the civilized universe. What neither of us had faced before was a situation where the person pursuing Janet didn’t care whether she was hurt or not. Janet is a good person and nobody has ever treated her like a pawn before. So she simply had no way of seeing through Murphy’s actions to the dark, hurtful side.

Nothing could have prepared her for what Murphy did to her and I have to admit that although he is pathetic at espionage he is stellar at manipulating people; including me.

Murphy must have thought enough about his actions to realize that he would be ruining Janet’s marriage to me and perhaps her life. He had to understand that stabbing me in the back would eventually hurt her, whether she discovered the truth or not.

But he didn’t care about any of her potential pain as long as he got what he wanted, which was Janet as either his lover, or hostage.  So, he targeted her vulnerabilities with laser guided precision.

He knew that if he, in effect, took me out of her life she would turn to some other alpha male for comfort. And he was smart enough to let her make all of the first moves in the journey to her own downfall.  All he had to do was provide a caring and non-threatening shoulder and then “strike when the bitch was hot”, so-to-speak.

By her own reckoning, Janet had realized that she would have to learn to navigate by her own internal compass with no help or guidance from me. She was dedicated to learning how to do that and I was committed to helping her.

If it accomplished anything, the time that we had agreed to separate built an emotional firebreak between our past marriage and our prospective one.  And I was hoping that when I picked up my life again with her, which I fully intended to do, we would recapture some of the freshness that we had lost over time.

But I had to admit that I was having serious buyer’s remorse about the whole living in exile part of our arrangement. Five weeks into the mission, it hurt a lot to wake up without her next to me. That overwhelmed any disagreeable feelings about the week she spent with Murphy. In fact, those old unpleasant memories were replaced by new, even more disturbing ones. I was now constantly wondering what she was doing in the times that I wasn’t around.

We had weekly “dates”, where I took her out and we talked.  And they almost always ended up with her fucking me cross-eyed.  But I was not with her the other six days of the week. And she is the sort of woman who could sit in a public park for 15 minutes and have any number of potential Prince-Charmings hit on her.

That led to another alarming notion. When she is by herself, stray men are always trying to start conversations with her. That kind of thing has happened to her for as long as I have known her. And Janet is a very open and friendly person, so she will talk to anybody who approaches her.

The fact that she attracts men like country music attracts red-necks never bothered me in the past. That was because I never left her alone long enough for anybody to make any headway with her. But I was not with her most of the time now. And it was simply inevitable that Janet would interact with a lot of attractive men without me around to discourage them.

That prospect gave me a pea-green jealous feeling, “What if Janet discovered that what she REALLY wanted was the variety of the single life?” My little voice nudged me and said, “And why didn’t you think of that possibility before?”

That led me to another chilling thought. Up to this point I had believed that I was grandly enforcing my rights as the wronged party. But, as I thought about it I realized that I had simply just put my very tempting wife out there on the shelf for the wolves to prey on. From a practical standpoint that was just plain stupid.

Which led me to my final consideration, “Maybe I am actually naiver and more complacent than she was?” But what options did I have? We both agreed that we needed separation to put our marriage back together. Given what I do for a living I could easily monitor everything about her life. But that would be a total violation of our agreement, as well as her personal privacy.

I knew that, I had to stop thinking about what Janet might be doing with other men in order to keep my own sanity. I had to count on what we had built over the past 17 years and her love for me. That attitude might make me into a total cuckolded weenie at the end of this. But, short of completely unwarranted snooping I didn’t see another alternative except to stick with what we had arranged and trust her to do the right thing.

So in the end it all came back around to continuing to try to rebuild our marriage. I was mostly able to keep the paranoid insecurity at bay, because I believed that she loved me and she knew the conditions for restarting things from the beginning. But the pain that my incipient jealousy was causing never went entirely away, particularly with the notably boring single life I was leading.

My condo was actually a lot nicer and more convenient to work than our house. I was getting the hang of simple housekeeping, so it was not a hardship to live by myself. But the dreadful hours between when I got home from work, and when I went to bed, were now filled with nothing more than me sitting in front of the tube drinking beer and watching sports. There was no loving give-and-take, or discussion about our day and what its happenings meant in the great scheme of things. I missed my best friend terribly.

I still don’t cook and so during that period I either ate out every night or brought home something. That’s why I happened to be sitting in our favorite chain restaurant when she came in with four of her fellow teachers. It was late July so they must have been doing the usual teacher preparation stuff prior to starting school. If she wasn’t already married to me I would have rushed right over to her table and proposed holy matrimony on the spot.

She was stunning. Her beautiful oval face, with its dimples and sharply pointed chin, was framed by her thick auburn hair. Her huge hazel eyes were flashing with the good humor and warmth that just flows out of her. And that spectacular body and those huge tits were like listening to the opening notes of Beethoven’s Ninth. You might have heard it a thousand times but it still moves you.

She was dressed in what I recognize as her schoolmarm garb. The emphasis was on utility not fashion. The outfit was necessary because spending her day minding a boisterous pack of 8 year olds is actually very physically demanding work. She didn’t notice me because she was talking animatedly with her friend Rebecca. And I was sitting mostly behind one of those translucent booth dividers.

Marcy and Sharita were with her along with a guy named Lance.  I already knew that Lance was 29-year-old and taught the sixth grade. And frankly I was not fooled by anybody named Lance who was that tall and handsome and who had worked his entire career in an elementary school. He was a major cockhound and he knew where to find all of the high-grade pussy; from the young mothers to the female teachers at the school.

Rumor had it that he had an adequate trust from his parents and considered Janet’s school to be his happy hunting grounds. Rumor ALSO had it that he had been responsible for the break-up of Rose Winsock’s marriage the year before.  He couldn’t take his eyes off of Janet.

I thought, “I might as well find out, right here and now, just how screwed I am.” So I hunkered down behind the divider and waited to see just how bleak my future life might be. Janet was not even noticing Lance as she appeared to be telling Rebecca some sort of long funny story. On the other hand, Lance was noticing every movement Janet made. He was constantly scanning the two of them waiting for Janet to finish.

As I have said, I am in the computer security business.  When I am in a restaurant by myself I always carry a small tablet computer with a 4G connection to the internet. I use it strictly for entertainment while I eat. But of course I can use it for other things. And it is exceptionally well stocked with goodies for a tablet.

I was only lurking 20 feet away from their table so it was nothing for me to port-scan Lance’s phone, and force-pair it. We call it “Bluebugging”. It was the one thing I had promised Janet I would NEVER do to her. But Lance wasn’t in the agreement. Suddenly I was sitting right there at the table.

Janet, who teaches third grade, was telling Rebecca, who teaches the fourth, about some of the more colorful little rascals she was passing along to her. Listening to my wife’s animated and humorous descriptions of each kid brought a lump to my throat. It was the voice of the person I had loved for all of these years. And it was hard to hear it knowing that for the time being I was not officially part of her life.

There was lighthearted chatter for several minutes and I got an education in how elementary school teachers work. From Sharita in the second grade to Lance in the sixth they were running a “file” on every student in the school. What they were passing on was so comprehensive it would have made Interpol jealous.

And listening to my wife I had a newfound understanding and respect for how totally dedicated and professional she was in her chosen domain. Janet was witty and serious, playful and insightful, and always very intelligent. I would have, fallen in love with the anonymous person I was hearing, even if I had not been fucking that spectacular body for almost 20 years.

Finally, Lance asked her the question that I was waiting for, “So, I hear that you and your husband aren’t together anymore, what happened?” I could hear rustling as they all turned toward her in the booth. Janet’s voice went from lighthearted to sad. She said, “We hit a bump in the road and we decided that we should lead separate lives.”

Janet might have just been trying to deflect the conversation but that was not even close to what I understood our agreement to be. If I had been sitting there like Lance was, I would have taken what she said as a declaration of independence.

Sharita said with seriousness, “Does that mean that you two are getting a divorce, girlfriend?!”

Janet said, “That is one option of course. But that is not what we are thinking about now. We are trying to get our marriage around to more balance. “

You could hear the sadness as she said, “I still love Tom but I realized that from as far back as I can remember I have been living my life centered on him. We had a little problem in the summer, which I am NOT going to get into, but it was obvious from that incident that the situation had to change. So we decided that if we were ever going to get back together I would have to learn to cope with life by myself.”

I could hear Lance licking his chops, because the tone of Janet’s voice conveyed that she now considered herself to be completely detached from me and that she planned to enforce that separation into the foreseeable future.

I got what she was saying. She was telling her friends that she was seeking to recapture the Janet of 17 years ago, the one who had steered a relatively successful course through life on her own. That was the general aim of our separation.

But the 25-year-old Janet had no commitments. So there was no moral brake on experimentation. The desire to experience life in all of its flavors is perfectly appropriate for a woman that age. However, the 42-year-old version had made a pledge to live by all of her marriage vows. And, that promise changed the situation entirely. She was now tied to me for better, or for worse, unless she chose to renounce her commitment via divorce.

I don’t think intelligent individuals EVER stop growing. But, unless you choose to literally lead an open marriage, all of the major learning experiences in a couple’s life are filtered through the other person.  We had been very successful in our husband and wife partnership. And I had never felt the need to supplement her companionship with another woman.  But the fact remained that everything I did and to a great extent THOUGHT was a reflection of my experiences with Janet as my wife. 

I believed that she felt the same way about me. And I was certain that her straying had nothing to do with disinterest. At worst, what she did with Murphy was a classic revenge fuck. And it gave her ONE free pass. But I wasn’t going to ever willingly share her with another man.  If that was what she wanted, or needed, then we were finished.

As I was thinking about the implications of a Janet as a free-agent, Rebecca said, with concern in her voice, “What happened? Did you catch him cheating?” Janet said, “GOD NO! Tom is as loyal as the family dog.”

She hastily added, “I won’t elaborate on how I know that but I can assure you that I found out the hard way. The problem is with ME. I discovered that I needed HIM too much and that isn’t healthy.”

I was pleased that she had announced her deep seated need for me, especially in front of Lance. I was less pleased that she had just compared me to a golden retriever.

Sharita added with a laugh, “You better believe it girlfriend! You can’t trust men and you had better NOT depend on one. They’re all hounds.” Sharita is a gorgeous twenty-six-year-old so she could say that.

Janet said, “Tom and I have always had a very close and trusting relationship. The problem is actually rooted in how close we are. I discovered over the summer that I had lost my own identity in our marriage and if I ever wanted to get any self-respect back I was going to have to re-establish who I was separate from my husband.”

The sadness returned as she said, “So we are living apart while I try to better understand how to cope with life. Tom supports me in that quest. In fact, he was the one who suggested it. We still get together once a week and talk and I have been seeing a counselor twice a week for the past three weeks.”

That was news to me!

Janet continued with, “I knew that I needed to get professional help because I far too easily fell into the arms of another man.” The collective gasp from around the table made heads turn in the restaurant.

I was not happy that Janet was talking about straying, particularly in front of Lance. They were arguably her best friends so I understood why she was willing to open up to them. But it would be FAR too easy for Lance to conclude that his arms would be a nice alternative for her to fall into.

She said, “How I got there and what happened is not something I want to talk about. But my counselor says that I have to be more honest with myself if I want to get stronger.”

She added, “My getting married ended the first phase of my life.  I no longer felt the need to meet new men. The desire for variety was replaced by my wanting to be solely with Tom.  There were no fresh love interests and I didn’t have the ups-and-downs of the dating scene, we just had each other.”

She said, “That has been the case for 17 wonderful years and Tom is the love of my life. But if you summed up the current state of our marriage you would use words like happy and content, not electric, or passionate.” 

She continued with, “My therapist helped me to understand that an endless progression of pleasant days is an ideal state for any woman if she is moving to the next stage in her life, which is raising children.  Women have to have a stable home environment for our kids. And our love for our children transforms our life with the father of those children into a different and much more profound and mature bond.” 

She concluded with, “The problem is that Tom and I will never have children so it is just him and me. And without my really being aware of it I was starting to think like Peggy Lee. Is that all there is? Without getting into the details, last June I thought I had lost Tom forever. I was devastated. And a very attractive man was right there to immediately step into his shoes. And unfortunately, I have to admit that although the experience of losing Tom was painful beyond belief, the short romance with the new man was brand new and very exciting.” 

I could hear everybody at the table murmur their agreement.

My heart sank. So there really WAS a problem! And her falling so readily into Murphy’s arms was not so much an aberration as it was a logical consequence of her growing dissatisfaction.

And in many respects I was as responsible for the problem as she was. She was absolutely correct. We had a pleasant life together, but there was none of the inspired wacky stuff we did in our early years.  The excitement had been replaced by a sense of well-being and companionship, which ironically was a reflection of how close we were as husband and wife.

The more I looked at it, the more I could see that I had really let things slide. I thought that the battle was over when I won the woman of my dreams.  I had lost track of the absolute necessity to maintain the sense of romance that had gained the fair maiden in the first place.

So for years I had starved Janet of any of the new and exciting moments that a girl needs to feel special and wanted. That was a completely selfish view of our married relationship that only a smug jerk like me could adopt. Self-satisfied doesn’t really begin to describe my state of mind for the past few years. I was successful in my career and I was a good provider.  My gorgeous 42-year-old wife and her sophisticated sexual appetites gave me all of the passion and excitement a man could ever need. I really couldn’t imagine a better situation for the likes of me.

On the other hand, she had a slightly out of shape fifty-year-old guy whose idea of a thrilling evening was to hit one of our usual restaurants for some hearty comfort food.  And although we fucked a lot, I didn’t work to earn it; like I would have to have had to if I was trying to romance her into bed.

The fact that it took an extraordinarily cruel maneuver on another man’s part to force her into his arms was more a tribute to Janet’s devotion to me than it was anything I deserved. A woman of lesser moral character would have probably been banging the pool boy years ago.

I hated to get this vital information surreptitiously. It had entirely changed the dynamic of our separation. And it was going to give me some long sleepless nights to know that Janet longed for more novelty and romance in her life.

That was mainly because there were a lot of younger and better looking guys who would be more than happy to give her all of the novelty she needed; especially her colleague Lance who was now looking at her like she was a little wooly lamb and he was the big bad wolf. 

I still had him force-paired and I was following the conversation, which wandered off into the minutiae of their lives. Lance was sitting across from Sharita. Janet was next to Sharita and Rebecca was across from her and Marcy was at the end of the table between Sharita and Lance.

Janet’s best friend Rebecca was an average looking woman who just happened to have the biggest pair of tits on Long Island. If Rebecca didn’t possess such gigantic jugs no male would even notice her. I am not surprised by how illogical men get when they are around a well-developed set of mammaries, mainly because I have spent a good bit of time ogling Rebecca’s bouncers myself. Nonetheless, she gets a respectable amount of interest from the male population simply because of their prominence

She was married and she had two teenaged kids and she led a very ordinary life with her husband, who was the chemistry teacher at the local high school.  Her husband was a decent, if not tremendously exciting guy who was close to my age. It was obvious from the times we had talked man-to-man, that Rebecca was the first and only woman he had ever fucked. My guess was that the same went for Rebecca.

Sharita was the second hottest looking woman in the entire school, only eclipsed by my beautiful wife. She had an adventurous sex life to say the least. She was telling the others about a date she had had the weekend before that involved a trip to Atlantic City.

It sounded exactly like the sort of thing I should have been doing with Janet for the past ten years. And Janet was eagerly soliciting the gory details. It turns out that Sharita and her date DID take in a show and DID do a little gambling but most of the time was spent in the room making the two backed beast. Janet actually said, “Wow! That sounds exciting!” I really didn’t like her wistful tone of voice.

Marcy, who was brand new to the school and looked like she was about 14 suddenly announced, “I have to get home. My husband will be back from work and I want to have a good dinner waiting for him.” Needless to say Marcy was a newlywed.

I heard the sound of chairs scraping and they all proceeded out the door. Janet went straight across the parking lot and got into the sporty Mercedes E350 that I had bought her at the beginning of the summer.  She drove off with a breezy wave to her friends. I have to admit that I breathed a sigh of relief.

Marcy and Sharita had ridden together and they walked over to Marcy’s sensible Camry, backed out and disappeared. That left Lance and Rebecca standing together next to Lance’s car, which was an Escalade.  I actually thought, “Perfect car for a stud like him.” Lance and Rebecca were still talking.

Because I use Bluebugging a lot in my work, I had a directional antenna built into the back of my tablet. The antenna enhanced the range of the bug out to about 300 yards. Lance was only about 70 feet away so he was still well within that effective radius, even with the glass in between.

Lance surprised me by pulling Rebecca around behind the back of his SUV, out of the line of sight of people in the restaurant. I heard the sound of a long, sloppy kiss followed by a loud moan. My eyebrows collided with my hairline and I actually said out loud, “What the fuck??!!”

I knew that this surprising turn of events would probably turn out to be significant to me. So, I wanted to follow the play-by-play. Bluetooth is way too limited in range and I REALLY had to know what was going on with the two of them. So I did a little tapping and dropped a RAT onto Lance’s smartphone via his Bluetooth port – that’s Remote Access Trojan to you civilians. 

Thanks to the RAT, his phone was now my personal Internet enabled camera and listening device. His data plan might take a serious hit. But since he had just been eyeing Janet like she was prime-rib I now felt like I had a serious dog in the fight and I needed to know where the situation between him and Rebecca was going to finish-up.

There was some rustling that was probably body pressed on body and then Rebecca said, “God Lance, I have to have your big cock in me. I need it now!”

Lance said, “Over here!” And they emerged back into my line of sight.

The two of them got into the SUV and I heard the sound of driving as his vehicle disappeared from sight around the back of the restaurant. That area was deserted most of the time. Since I owned Lance’s phone I could still plainly hear what was going on in the front seat of the SUV, even if I couldn’t see it. I activated the recording feature on my tablet.

All of the time Lance was driving I could hear the slurping sound of somebody sucking his cock. I could come to that conclusion because he was giving out the occasional loud grunt, which made Rebecca go to town on him even harder. She was moaning loudly even though she sounded like she had her mouth full of fresh penis.

Then there was the sound of parking, rustling and a couple of minutes later I heard, “OH MY GOD, IT’S SO BIG!!!” That was Rebecca’s voice. Then she said frantically, “Wait, wait, wait, I have to adjust!!!”

To which Lance growled, “Take it bitch!!! Take it all the way!!!” Romantic devil wasn’t he?

Then there was a loud groan and the prolonged sound of very liquid slapping. Rebecca’s moans were getting louder and louder until she exploded in a shriek and there was the sound of frantic movement. The slapping and moaning continued for another couple of minutes until I heard her say in a panicked voice, “You have to come in me! Come in me NOW!! I can’t take it anymore!!! Come in me please!!”

That was followed by a loud basso-profundo groan and a long satisfied, “Yesssss!!!” Then there was nothing but the sound of strained breathing. Finally, Rebecca said, “God I love your big cock.” Lance said, “And I love your big tits.” It was a truly romantic moment in the adulterous world of cheating wives.

In my wildest dreams I couldn’t imagine that frumpy Rebecca could be such a wild-thing. More important I had just discovered that anybody, no matter how unlikely, can cheat. I wondered how long THAT had been going on and whether Janet had a clue about any of it.

There was the sound of things being put back on and zipped then the car started. The SUV reappeared from around the back of the restaurant. Lance was talking to Rebecca. He said, “So you think she is really split up with that husband of hers?” The subtext was, “Is she available?”

Rebecca said with a certain amount of self-loathing in her voice, “She really loves him and she would never do anything like we just did.” However, Rebecca did not actually say that Janet might not be willing to do it someplace else.

Lance dropped Rebecca at her car and the two of them drove happily off leaving me with questions to mull over. As he moved out of range I programmed his phone to include mine in the conversation, if he called a certain number.

I paid for my own meal and drove home in a state of extreme disquiet. I had learned a lot over my evening meatloaf and I had to factor it into my thinking. It was clear that I had been selfishly complacent with Janet. Beautiful women get flattery and lots of excitement from men. That is the way the species is hardwired. And a husband who loses track of that natural fact is dangling his own spouse out there for any shark to take advantage of.

Janet had given me an understandable and easy to accept explanation for her actions with Murphy, no matter how unwittingly. The fact that she didn’t know I was listening only made what she said all the more believable.

In simple terms, I might have satisfied her as a provider. But I had not given her any satisfaction whatsoever when it came to showing her how special, beautiful and desirable she was. Murphy had done ALL OF THAT for her.

I had given her that kind of romance for the first ten years. But, sometime after that I had simply drifted into routine. That might have had something to do with me moving well into middle age. I was definitely not the man I had been seven years ago. Instead, I had turned into a TV sitcom husband. 

It took a perfect storm of treachery in conjunction with her feelings of lost romance to turn her toward Murphy. But I could see what Murphy had probably seen for a long time. Janet had been so starved for any form of excitement in her life that she would respond to a full-court press.

That situation could be acted on and I was going to do that this weekend. But as I drove back to my lonely quarters I also had the startling events of the past half hour to think about.

My first thought was, “Seriously?! Rebecca?!” She DID have giant jugs but overall she was really kind of dumpy. She had rather thin mouse brown hair and a round pink face. She wasn’t fat but the words “sturdy”, or “utilitarian” tended to come to mind when you looked at her body and her short pudgy legs were anything but sexy.

She was definitely NOT the sort of woman you would go out of your way to seduce. Especially a player like Lance who could get any woman he wanted. What I HAD learned though was that Lance could turn her into a total wildcat, even in the parking lot of a popular chain restaurant. At the same time, she seemed to regret the hold that he had on her. I could sense that in her voice. 

Lance must be a very skillful cocks-man to establish and maintain that kind of a spell on a woman who was essentially nothing more exotic than a married 40-year-old schoolteacher. He had obviously been working on her in school, but the question was, “Why go out of your way to seduce Rebecca?” Then it came to me in a blinding flash. Rebecca was Janet’s best friend and confidant.

They had probably already shared everything about Rebecca’s affair, including Lance’s amazing skill with his weapon of choice. And it would be reasonable for Lance to assume that Janet would want to sample his wares after hearing glowing testimonials from her best friend.  He was probably thinking that Janet would be intrigued enough to consider a taste of what he had to offer.

I actually shook my head in wonder at the long game that Lance was playing. It was Deja-Murphy all over again. Janet was sitting out there in the wild without me being around to guard my investment and she was probably lonely. After what she had just told the group she was longing for excitement and romance and my guess was that Lance was planning on providing all of that for her.

And as I had that thought, right on cue my phone rang. I had dropped a little something on Lance’s phone that would always include me as the man-in-the-middle on any call he made to my wife. Looking at the caller ID I could see that I was about to get a chance to listen in on the events that would no doubt define the rest of my life. 

Chapter Eight: Making Changes

The summer wore on without any respite from my sense of guilt and emptiness. I knew that the only way we would be able to put our life back on track was if Tom and I talked things through. So, we got together for several hours each week, sat in our house and chatted about the experiences that had led us to where we were.

Then we fucked and he went back to his condo. I use the term “fucked” because those sessions were more for the purpose of me maintaining my sanity than they were us making love. After my cherry was popped I was never able to control my raging libido. I had to have some kind of regular release, or I couldn’t think straight. I am sure there is a good psychological reason for why I needed sexual release so often. But frankly I didn’t care about reasons as long as I had a regular man to take the pressure off.

I enjoyed casual sex with a lot of different men for the first seven years. Then, for the last 17 years I had one man and one man only. I know that isn’t exactly a correct statement since I DID have one slip-up. But in my mind that would never happen again, so I can say with absolute certainty that Tom will be the only man charged with the duty of keeping me sane until death do we part.

Fucking Tom had managed to ensure that I was not actually climbing the walls during our separation. But we both knew that the bouts of sex that were having were probably still too numerous; that is, if we were trying to truly enforce distance. It was just that we were too weak to stop cold turkey.

So, it was inevitable that when we got together we would end up in bed or on the couch, or the living room floor, or even one time on the table on the patio. 

It definitely was not the sort of thing that a man and a woman who are married do. I acted like a crazy person each time we did it; I honestly don’t think I was as wild in our earliest days together. And I wanted him every way I could have him. During those sessions I could have fucked him for 24 straight hours in every hole. But he is not as young as he used to be and I didn’t want to kill him. Nevertheless, the sex was inexplicably hot, almost like an affair.

Tom and I have always had an almost mystic physical attraction to each other. That actually began for me before he even said a word. I was standing next to him in our school’s gymnasium. I was not even looking at him. I was watching my little charges as the career fair droned on. But his mere presence exerted some kind of planetary pull. It was like he was emanating gravity rays that were dragging me into his orbit. And frankly the tingle and flutters he was setting off in my lower belly were embarrassing, since they were actually making me wet.

It had nothing to do with how he looked, or anything about his external self. Our brains are electrical and perhaps that was what was behind the instant physical chemistry. It was like we were resonating on the exact same radio frequency. Or maybe it was something subliminally biological. Or perhaps it was something mystical; what the Hindus call Kismet. Whatever it was, my subconscious knew right away that he was the only man in the world who I wanted to TOTALLY give myself to.

And one month, two weeks and 3 days after we agreed to separate I was ready for him to come home to me. That was due to the fact that I had a much deeper understanding of who I was and how I wanted to live the rest of my life. I honestly felt like I had found myself in the relatively short period since we had been apart. That was because I had spent all summer reading and thinking about what I needed to do. And my sessions with Dr. Morningstar had helped me to feel a lot more confident. 

I knew that I was not going to complete my voyage to self-discovery without help from other people. And although Tom and I revealed some pretty deep secrets to each other, I thought that I needed to talk to a counselor, preferably a woman. It was the middle of the summer but the administrative staff at my school was still in the building. So at the end of July I went to visit the Principal. 

Sadie Craven was well past retirement age but nobody in the School District had the guts to try to force the old dragon to retire.  I get along with her pretty well because we both loved teaching and we had an understanding of how serious the responsibility of shaping young minds was. When I came into her Office he was sitting behind the same desk that she had used to strike terror into the hearts of generations of elementary school kids; and most of the teaching staff.

She allowed one corner of her mouth to slightly twitch, which was as close to smiling as I have ever seen her. The she said in her best old-maid-school-teacher voice, “Janet, what are you doing here? School doesn’t start for another month?”

I said, “And good morning to YOU Miss Craven. I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I am trying to get in touch with Mrs. Morningstar and I need her number.” Chelsea Morningstar was the District’s school psychologist.

Sadie said “I can do better than that” and she dug around in her desk, which was a true relic of the Eisenhower administration and produced a slip of paper. She dialed her rotary phone and when the person on the other end answered she said with great formality, “Mrs. Morningstar, I have somebody who would like to talk with you” and handed the phone to me. She didn’t bother to introduce herself. Everybody knew Sadie Craven’s voice.

I nodded my thanks and held the heavy black plastic instrument to my ear. I said, “Chelsea, this is Janet at Roosevelt Elementary can I stop by your place for a minute? Where are you located?”

She gave me an address and I thanked Miss Craven and hopped into the sporty new Mercedes that Tom had just bought me and drove the 15 minutes over to Chelsea’s office. When I got there I was surprised. I had only known Chelsea as the District psychologist. In that respect she was just one of my colleagues. I had never actually considered that she had a successful practice. But when I got there I learned that she was not only successful but obviously thriving.

The office that I was ushered into was that of a prosperous health professional. It was subtly decorated, with the carefully built-in tranquility that is characteristic of the offices of people who make a living helping other individuals come to grips with life. The furniture and appointments were comfortable and there were books everywhere.

I wanted to do my therapy with Chelsea because she would understand some of the issues I was going through. What I mean is that she is a gorgeous 45-year-old career woman with the same kind of killer body that I have. So I wouldn’t have to explain the problem of male behavior.

She is my exact opposite in the looks category. Chelsea has porcelain skin and long beautiful blond hair, which she wears in an absolute waterfall of brilliant wheaten color. Like my Italian ancestors, I am dusky and I have thick auburn hair that I keep in the same preppy bob that I have worn since I was in college.

Chelsea is tall and model slim with a supple figure and a gorgeous face. I am five foot two and I could best be described as voluptuous, even though thanks to my dance training I don’t have an ounce of fat on my body. Both of us are relentlessly hit on whenever we go out together socially, but she tends to attract the intellectuals and I get the former jocks; lucky me.

She rose graciously from her chair and hugged me. We have worked on a lot of kid issues together and we have a bond in that we both love children, even though neither of us have any kids of our own. Hers is by choice and mine is unfortunately biological. She said, “Janet, what a lovely surprise. What can I do for you? Is Brandon acting up again?”

Brandon was the last project that Chelsea and I had worked on together. At the tender age of eight Brandon had already been nominated by the school staff as, “Most likely to become an armed robber when he grows up”

I laughed and said, “No Chelsea, this is about me. And I proceeded to tell her the whole dreadful story including all of the gory details of my infidelity.”

She looked sympathetic and said, “You two have handled this as well as possible. You have both retired to neutral corners to get this into perspective and you are constantly communicating. I even think that the fact that you have kept your physical relationship alive is healthy. I just don’t see where I can help?”

I said, “You can help me better understand how to move through life as a strong and independent woman who can face bad things no matter how awful and unexpected they are.”

She looked surprised so I continued with, “I know now that I can live my life, without constantly referring to Tom. I have thought that situation through and I understand that I cannot turn to alpha-males to solve my problems. But I am not sure why I fell so quickly into the arms of another man. That is what you have to help me to understand and deal with because I am afraid it will happen again, no matter how much I want to remain faithful.”

Chelsea said, “WOW! It sounds like you have already isolated the problem. Do you think you will want to establish a sexual relationship with a man outside of your marriage again? Is that it?”

I said, “Absolutely NOT. I am totally committed to Tom both in terms of the usual measures, like unconditional love, physical attraction, long and happy partnership and unqualified respect. And also frankly, my fidelity is not so much a matter of my love for Tom as it is an artifact of my own personal self-worth. Two seconds after I did it with Murphy I felt like a worthless slut and the guilt was crushing. Keep in mind that I still believed that Tom was fucking around on me, so those feelings were my own, not something imposed by external conditions.”

I added, “And I told Murphy that it would never happen again. That was because having sex outside of my marriage vows attacked my personal sense of self-respect. It’s not that I am inhibited. I would have fucked his brains out if I had NOT made a pledge. But as long as that pledge is in effect I was attacking my OWN sense of values by breaking it. So I can assure you that I NEVER plan to go out and have some kind of fling while married.”

I said ruefully, “But I have to admit that I was falling in love with the guy too. And in my universe it is more adulterous to have those feelings, even if you don’t act on them. And I think that in Tom’s mind an emotional affair is even worse than a physical one. He actually told me that he could get past my fucking the guy but he was having a hard time forgiving the emotional connection that I had formed with him.”

I finished with, “Fucking is just mindless sex but crossing the line between simple friendship and the close bond that exists between husband and wife is a much more profound betrayal. It breaks a connection that can only exist between two people, not three. And at the time I was definitely NOT undergoing any guilt about my feelings for Murphy. So I need to find out why that happened and make sure it never happens again.”

Chelsea looked at me judiciously and said, “Does Tom give you everything you need and expect in a marriage?”

I said, “Of course he does. He is an excellent provider, an intellectually stimulating man with a range of interests, he can make me laugh, he is kind, considerate and loving to a fault and he makes me cum in ways that I can’t even describe. So YES, he gives me everything a girl could ever want out of a marriage.”

Chelsea said, “And yet you generated romantic feelings for another man in a very short period of time?”

I said, “That is the problem EXACTLY! There were extenuating circumstances, like I thought I had been betrayed and Murphy was my only friend, but to respond to his comforting by falling in romantic love with him is not the logical response to betrayal.”

I said, “I have thought about it enough to realize that my natural reaction to fear or unhappiness is to turn to a man to make it right.  And to say the least Murphy was charming. He didn’t make a move on me and so I thought he cared about me, not my obvious assets. And as a result, when we were together I felt an exciting sense of getting to know a new and very attractive person.”

I continued with, “Perhaps it was the novelty that made it so easy for me to semi-fall in love with him. I was attracted to him in a romantic sense because he appealed to different parts of me. Murphy was different from Tom in a lot of ways, a lot younger, more vigorous and a total rogue. Tom is controlled, steady and reliable. Murphy was spirited and whimsically imaginative. He gave me a sense of freshness and new adventure that Tom and I lost many years ago.”

I added wistfully, “Murphy was also a puzzle and a challenge. Unlike Tom, I couldn’t predict his every thought and action and it was interesting to interact with somebody who was NOT so closely bound to you by your mutual history. It was kind-of an experiment to watch him react in unique ways to the little things we did with each other. None of that was better than with Tom. It was just different and intriguing.”

I gave her a conspiratorial wink and said, “Just like you do, I like to get every man in the room’s attention, even if I have no desire to actually get physical with them. So I tried to tempt Murphy with my body and he didn’t even show interest. Rather than reassuring me that he was safe, that made me want to find out why he hadn’t made a move on me. I actually thought “Maybe he’s gay?” I know now that it was all an act designed to force me to try to seduce him rather than the other way around.”

I added, “From our long experience with men, you and I both know that it is the woman who decides whether to have sex or not, men are always ready. And by the time he had wined and dined me and danced with me for hours he had gotten me so wound up sexually that I made the first move, kissing him while we were dancing on the patio of the club. And we made out like teenagers in his car when he took me home.”

I blushed and said, “I haven’t had the delicious sensation of doing something sexual in a parked car since I started dating guys with apartments. And I haven’t looked out of steamed up windows like that in twenty years. It was an exhilaratingly naughty experience from my youth. And from the time when we met, Tom and I have never done anything like that. It only underscored Murphy’s exciting difference.”

I continued with, “Besides the freshness of a different pair of lips and hands, Murphy’s loving-me-up like that was also a reaffirmation. I am used to being the hottest woman in the room. But at 42 I needed to know that I hadn’t lost it. The woman who I thought Tom was screwing was easily ten years younger than me and equally well-endowed.  And I know Tom gets sort-of helpless in the face of a really big pair of titties.”

I said with regret in my voice, “I wanted to fuck Murphy right there in the back seat but he told me “no”. Again, I thought that was because he cared about me, but he was really just setting the hook. He knew he could have me in a much more convenient spot any time he wanted. And the fact that we didn’t do anything much more than just kiss that first time also didn’t set off any guilt reaction.”

 I said with true guilt, “Like I said, I was in puppy love at that point in his seduction and when he invited me over to his place I was pretty sure that I knew what would happen. Why I went is something that I will regret to my dying day. I was feeling exhilarated and totally wicked.”

I hastily added, “As I told you, that all came crashing down the minute we finished fucking. I must be schizophrenic or something because it was like a different person took over the controls in my head. The silly romantic girl was replaced by the woman I have become.  I instantly understood how irresponsible I had been and the implications of what I had done were soul crushing.”

I turned to Chelsea, who was looking at me with utter sympathy, and said, “So what’s my problem? What could have caused my totally uncharacteristic behavior?”

She said, “Let me ask you a question.  Would you have ever considered any of that if you had not thought that your marriage to Tom was sunk?”

I said, “Certainly not! First of all, I would have never even looked at Murphy in a romantic way. I never had any desire to please any man but my husband.  It was just that I was coming to grips with the idea that Tom was no longer part of my life. I could not tolerate somebody cheating on me like I thought that he had. It broke my heart. But I am strong enough to terminate a situation like that. I had done it in the past and I was telling myself that I had to do it again”

Chelsea said, “So, in your mind you had closed the door on your marriage?”

I thought for a second and then I said, “I suppose I had. You probably think that I am stupid but it never occurred to me that those pictures weren’t real and if they WERE real; then my pride and self-respect demanded that I would have to divorce him.”

Chelsea said, “Was it that simple? You would just walk away if he was cheating?”

I said, “Chelsea, you and I BOTH know that men are simple creatures. They make the decisions that we want them to make. They might THINK that they are in charge. But it is the woman who decides all of the important things in a relationship; whether and when we will have sex, whether we will be a couple and most important whether the marriage will survive.

I added, “It might seem a little cold blooded to suggest that I could just walk out on 17 years with a man who I allegedly loved beyond my own life. But that man was NOT the one I had seen banging that hot little number in the pictures. He was somebody I didn’t know, a total stranger. And I had no love, or even respect for anybody that treacherous.”

I finished with, “At best I was hoping that we could talk and I would come to understand and perhaps forgive the person who I saw in those pictures. But there wasn’t ANY possibility that I could forget what I had seen, or EVER give myself to that man again. So, YES, in my mind the marriage was over and my only goal at that point was to keep myself together long enough to get my feet back under me.”

Chelsea said, “Have you ever bailed out of an intense relationship before, just like that?”

I said, “I’ll bet that you have had the same experiences I have. Every man I have ever been with prior to Tom treated me like I was an idiot; like I couldn’t tell what was going on in their pea-sized brains, or what they were up to most of the time. A couple of times in my early days I fell for male shenanigans hook-line-and-sinker. And I had my heart broken. But I left both of those relationships with my head held high and found somebody new. “

I added, “So NO, I didn’t EVER trust the varmints and I never had anything in my experience to teach me otherwise. I needed to be fucked so I went along with the program. But I never believed a word that any man ever said to me, or trusted any of them. Tom changed that but it was because he treated me with respect and he always considered my intelligence. It was why I knew he was the one for me.” 

Chelsea said, “So your situation with Murphy amounted to a new beginning for you; something similar to your approach to the other men who betrayed you? You merely went back to your old life patterns with the intention of starting all over again. Does that sum up your feelings after the initial shock?”

I pondered that for a second thinking back and then I said, “You know, you’re right. My attitude after I stopped throwing up and rolling around in a fetal ball was EXACTLY the way I always felt after all of the serious breakups in my past. It was like I had closed an old door and walked into a strange new room and there was Murphy waiting for me and I had an exciting new challenge. It was like old times.”

Then the thought struck me and I was appalled. I said, “MY GOD, I AM the world’s shallowest slut! Looking back now, I can see that by the middle of that week I had forgotten Tom entirely and was concentrating on reeling Murphy in just like I had every other new man after a breakup. I started to cry.”

Chelsea handed me her ubiquitous tissue box and said, “No you aren’t. That was just conditioned behavior taking over. It was the way you always reacted to betrayal and in some ways it shows how brave you are.”

She said with sympathy in her voice, “You really truly believed your marriage was at an end. Most women would have taken to drink, or drugs, or killed themselves after a catastrophe like that. You just dusted yourself off and immediately went back into the fight. That isn’t a sign of shallowness. It is a sign of how tough and confident you are as a woman. And you should feel good about that.”

She added, “The fact that you didn’t immediately talk with Tom and clarify those pictures is a point against you. But I can understand that was a consequence of your past. If pictures don’t lie there was no reason to talk with him except to work out the details of the settlement.”

She continued with, “And you eventually got around to doing that. Unfortunately, that was after you had progressed too far down the road with the fellow who actually put you there. But all of your actions to that point are perfectly understandable within your own personal and psychological history.

She finished with, “The only question is, what do you intend to do now? “

I said, “I don’t know yet. I am here because I need you to help me. I want to start over again with my husband in a way that will absolutely guarantee that we will be together forever. So I have to get this right. Will you help me?”

Chelsea said, “Certainly dear, make another appointment and we can talk. But be sure you keep the short-term sexual connection to Tom because I am sure that this is going to be a brief therapy.”

She laughed and said, “You have gone right to the heart of your trouble in our first session. And I can tell by your ability to articulate it that you understand it. Now we just need to plan how you are going to explain all of this to Tom. You will have to be forthright, including telling him about your feelings of discontent with the predictability of your last few years together.”

She said with fond sympathy in her voice, “That shouldn’t be a deal breaker because I bet that he has felt exactly the same way as you do.”

I wasn’t so sure of that since he seemed to love his routine

Then she thought a bit and added, “I know that you two love each other and I am certain that you can find plenty of future romance. You haven’t traveled much in the past and a lot of couples discover a fresh meaning in life simply visiting new places together. Maybe you can do that.”

It is hard to put a value on a strong intelligent friend like Chelsea Morningstar.

We met a couple more times over the next couple of weeks. One thing that DID come out of our discussion was the discovery that part of the problem seemed to be that Tom and I were following the wrong script.  Although we didn’t think we were different than any other married people our childless state put us in a small and slightly precarious category of couples.

That is, most people in their 40s are usually raising kids. Our endless progression of perfectly pleasant days is an ideal state if there are children involved, since a husband and wife don’t need any more excitement than the trials and tribulations that offspring bring into your life. But if there are no kids all of that peace and quiet can get monotonous. 

That revelation led me to my next conclusion, which was that from now on I would work very hard to ensure there was a little unplanned excitement in our life; to go along with the wonderful sense of contentment that we felt with each other. And I was already planning the trips and the new and thrilling sexual experiences Tom and I were going to have.

July passed into August and it was coming up on the beginning of the new school year. I had a lot to do in my classroom, from lesson planning to stocking up the Guinea Pig supply. So we were all around the building at various times working on our rooms. 

I have taught third grade long enough that some of my little charges are actually professional people now. Seeing one of your students following in your footsteps is one of the true rewards of being an educator. For instance, Marcy Alexander, who was one of the eight year olds sitting in the gym on the day I met Tom, is now teaching kindergarten in the room next to me.

Marcy was a bouncy and energetic little girl who had grown into an idealistic, apple cheeked romantic. She was living the story book. She graduated from her teacher’s college in June, married her long-time boyfriend in July and was about to embark on her teaching career with the same kind of enthusiasm that I semi-remembered from back when I was 23.

She is small and she is as shapely as a 14-year-old boy. But she hangs on my every word, which is a little disturbing. I know that she is a great teacher though, because she did her student teaching with me.

I walked into her classroom as she was putting up a bulletin board that was slightly more ornate than the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I said, “Some of us old-hands are getting together after work. How would you like to join us?”

She looked hesitant. I knew that she didn’t drink. I said, “I don’t drink at those things either. We want to welcome you back to your old school. They have lemonade and soft drinks. So how are you doing? Can I help with anything?”

She said as lively as ever, “I’m doing fine and I would love to see all of you. It’s been a long time since I sat in your classroom.” Suddenly I felt older than dirt.

There was also something that I wanted to discuss with my best friend Rebecca. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. Rebecca, not Becky, has been my sidekick since we started our careers on the same day twenty years ago. And all of that time she has been the fourth grade teacher to my third. If I had a sister, she would be her; I love her like one. And we think like one mind. That was the problem.

For the past two months Rebecca has been my only social outlet. Without Tom in my life I hung out with Bob and her at their house and we had frequent barbeques. Their two kids are 17 and 16 and they are constant reminders of what might have been with Tom and me, because they are very good kids.

The oldest takes after Bob, Rebecca’s husband, who teaches chemistry and physics at the high school. He is as shy and geeky as Bob. But he is clearly headed for MIT. The youngest is the starting quarterback of our high school football team and already a lady’s man. I know that he is, because he has actually hit on ME in a teenage sort of way. I would wonder who the real father was if I was not absolutely certain that Bob was the only man Rebecca had ever fucked and vice-versa.

That was until sometime in late June. Then Rebecca started acting strange and it seemed like the culprit was Lance Jones.  As a cockhound, Lance was slightly MORE obvious than Wile E. Coyote himself. I would not have had anything to do with that man-whore even back in my wild sluttier days. And I certainly didn’t want anything to do with him now. But the School Board assigned him to me as my colleague mentoree and I was stuck with him. He hit on me relentlessly for the first couple of years and I had to threaten to bring him up on sexual harassment charges to get him to lay off.

Lance was good looking enough, 29 years old, well dressed, tall and fashionably muscular with a killer smile. And he had plenty of money thanks to his parents. What he didn’t have was a moral compass or a sense of values. I found all of his jovial, “Come on honey, I know you really want it” vibes disgusting. But it was my duty to turn him into a professional educator and God knows I tried. Unfortunately, however, Lance seemed to view our school as his personal game preserve.

Marcy had replaced Rose Winsock as the kindergarten teacher. Lover-boy ruined Rose’s marriage and life by fucking her into telling her husband that she was leaving him, which was a stupid move on her part since Lance disappeared out of her life as soon as she did that. People like Lance only want conquest, not the long-haul.

Anyhow, Lance started paying a lot of attention to Rebecca after he dropped Rose. He flirted mercilessly with her any time they were together and he was even over at her house sometimes when I visited. And frankly I didn’t know why. I have led a much different life than Rebecca and I wanted to warn her about Lance. But poor ordinary Rebecca seemed to be smitten. So I needed to find a way to broach the subject of his advances on her without actually finding out too much about the situation.

We all drove to a chain restaurant that we frequent. It is also a favorite of Tom’s and I had hoped to see him there. Even the sight of him cheers me up. But there was no such luck.

We live in a relatively small town and the restaurant is equidistant from everybody’s residence. I think that’s why we go there. It was very comforting to spend time with the people who I see every day and respect. That was with one exception. But I DO hear that he is a very good teacher. We talked about the kids and then somebody brought up the fact that I was separated from Tom.

Chelsea suggested that I be honest, since there was nothing to be ashamed of. And so I told them about how I had fallen off the wagon romance-wise with Mr. Murphy. I saw that as an opportunity. I wanted to start to open the discussion with Rebecca about her own issues and I thought that if I made myself completely open and vulnerable to everybody, as I had, I might be able to broach the subject of Lance.

We might have talked longer but Marcy had to rush home to prepare dinner for her man. It was really cute and a little nostalgic. I never had an innocent period. But then again, I didn’t look like Marcy back then either.

We parted in the parking lot and I drove home to my empty house. It was Monday. When we talked on Wednesday I was planning on raising the idea of Tom moving back in. I was feeling a sense of impending resolution to our marriage difficulties and I was overjoyed. It is oddly ironic how you can remember the minutia of life just before disaster strikes.

I was working on my lesson plan in the den when the landline rang. It was 8:30 in the evening and I was settled in with a glass of Merlot, wearing a closed robe over a pair of panties. The first thing I heard was Lance’s irritating voice. Lance was not somebody I wanted to deal with at that time of night.

I said, “Lance, why are you calling me at this hour?!”

He said, “I’m sorry to call you so late Janet but I really need your help. I have to fill out the paperwork for the State assessment test for my kids and I don’t have the slightest idea where to start. Can I come over for a half hour and you can show me how to begin at least.”

I said with some annoyance, “The State assessments aren’t due until November Lance. What’s the emergency?”

He said with panic creeping into his voice, “I have to file the paperwork by noon tomorrow. There is a different schedule for 6th graders because we are passing them along to another school.”

He was right. I had forgotten about that.

I said, “Why did you wait until the last minute?” That was a silly question. It was Lance after all.

He said, “I just didn’t think of it until I saw you guys today. I know it’s late but you have to help me.” I got the “Board of Education demands it” undertones to what he was saying. I knew I was trapped so I said with anger creeping into my voice. “I want to go to sleep no later than 10:30 so you had better get your ass over here.” Then I hung up on him.

He arrived fifteen minutes later. I barely had the time to throw on a warmup suit. He was dressed in the same outfit he had been wearing three hours earlier and carrying one of those little white boxes that pastries come in. He looked contrite.

I said, “Come on in Lance and let’s get this over with. We sat down at the kitchen table. I offered him something to drink. He asked for a beer and I made myself some herb tea. I like to drink a cup of chamomile tea to help me get to sleep.

He said, “I certainly appreciate this Janet. You are really the expert in our school and I desperately need your help. I won’t take up too much of your time. If you can just show me where to start I can take it from there and I brought along some cannelloni as a peace offering.” He opened the box and there were two big, fat cannelloni sitting there.

They were so yummy looking that I decided that helping Lance might not be so bad after all. I got a couple of plates and he picked one out of the box and put it on mine. Then he did the same thing for his. I sipped my tea and munched on my cannelloni while I helped him fill out the paperwork. I DID have to admit that if you hadn’t been doing that stuff for twenty years all of the red-tape would be confusing.

He filled out the first part of the form while I guided him. I was sitting across from him at the dining room table and watching him as he wrote. It took about 15 minutes. And then suddenly I was beginning to feel really sick and woozy.  It hit me so hard that I thought it was going to vomit. I said to him, “I think you had better leave right now Lance. I don’t feel well at all.”

I started to stand and walk him toward the door and my legs collapsed. He caught me and held me against him. I was beginning to feel like I was going to pass out. I was terrified. Here I was with nobody but Lance to help me and I didn’t trust him at all. Plus, I suddenly had an alarmingly irresistible desire to thoroughly and emphatically fuck anybody who I could lay my hands on. 

I desperately mumbled something like “call 911”.

He said cheerfully, as he swung me into his arms and carried me in the direction of our first floor master bedroom, “No need to do that my dear. What you just ate was my own personal concoction of Rohypnol and Ecstasy in a tasty Ricotta filling. I see you enjoyed it and it IS harmless and undetectable once it’s passed out of your system.

Women think that date-rape drugs can only be delivered in drinks. So they fall for the food gambit every time. You won’t remember anything in the morning. But I can guarantee that you will totally love what’s going to happen to you TONIGHT.” Then he tossed me on the bed.

I could feel my top being unzipped and pulled off. I had the completely inappropriate thought that I wished I had worn a bra. Then I felt my bottoms and panties forcefully ripped off my legs.  The enveloping fog closed in and I couldn’t see anything. I thought I felt a cock slide into me. The only thing I could hear were the ecstatic and utterly abandoned cries of a woman in an extreme sexual frenzy.

Chapter Nine: The Two Lovers Find Their Way Back to Each Other

A hard rain had started as I drove back to my condo. People lose track of how far Long Island juts out into the Atlantic. And thanks to where we are located we get our share of violent storms. This was shaping up to be one to remember. In fact, even though we are a little south of their breeding grounds, tonight’s weather felt like it might turn into a true Nor’easter

While the lightning flashed and the wipers slapped their busy tune I was thinking about what I had just overheard. I was feeling a bit guilty about eavesdropping on my wife. But Janet had added a new dimension to my understanding. And as far as I was concerned it was the final piece that I needed to start the reconciliation process.

I recognized and accepted that she was entirely responsible for what she had done. But I could understand the reason now. And I had to admit some complicity. 

My passive contributions didn’t cause me any pangs of guilt. But they DID help me get my head around the cause of Janet’s straying. More importantly, because I finally understood the motivation for her behavior I was NOW more-or-less totally reassured that it would never happen again. That is, if I did the things that I needed to do. 

The solution to our problem was simple and I was absolutely certain that it was the right one. Murphy had done a masterful job of yanking me out of Janet’s life, thereby removing her support system. The blame for that part of her seduction was strictly on him. But my failure to understand my wife’s growing need for romance and excitement was my fault entirely. And I was never going to make that mistake again.

I know that the sin of inattentiveness is a problem in most long-standing marriages; so much so that the thickheaded husband is a TV caricature. I will cop to that plea. But making the same mistake twice is not in my skill set. Based on what I had learned, it was painfully obvious that I had to stop living my marriage like a bad sitcom and start treating it with the importance and respect that it deserved. That is, if I wanted to keep my wife.

So, I was going to do whatever it took to add a lot more spice to Janet’s life.

I have no idea when I lost track of the fact that Janet was a gift, not my inalienable right. When I think back on it our entire married relationship seemed to disappear into routine sometime in the murky past. And in some ways I had to thank Mr. Murphy for waking me up. 

Murphy saw what I was NOT seeing. He was around our house enough to pick-up on the effect that my inattention had on Janet. Janet is always loving and faithful. But she was also a woman who was getting absolutely no interest or excitement from her husband. And Murphy had used her incipient boredom to do something that I had never thought would happen, fuck her outside the bounds of holy matrimony.

All women need the occasional moments of reinforcement to feel desirable. In fact, the partner’s appearance is a fundamental part of mating behavior in any species; think peacock. It was pure unadulterated self-satisfied stupidity that made me lose track of Janet’s outrageous sex appeal. I had gotten lazy. So instead of thinking about novel ways to sweep Janet off her feet, I was wallowing in my daily routine like a pig in mud.

In that respect, my arrogance and deeply entrenched complacency made her vulnerable to any approach that would let her feel important and desirable again. Knowing what I do now, I was not going to EVER stop expressing my gratitude that she had chosen me. So, my first step was going to be to get my head out of the cozy place where I had been keeping it. And then spend my spare time coming up with new and improved ways of letting Janet know each and every day how special she is.

And make no mistake, Janet is very special.

It is her warmth and humanity that differentiate her from other beautiful women. Her movie star face and her smoking hot body are guaranteed to set-off waves of yearning in every man who meets her.  But, she has such a charismatic personality that you quickly lose sight of her extreme physical attractiveness. Underneath her gorgeous exterior she is kind, sweet, humble, gentle, and her intelligence and her wicked sense of humor are second to none.

In fact, I have never quite understood why she pledged herself to me in the first place. When we met it was obvious that she didn’t lack for male companionship. Even now, she will be hit on wherever we go, sometimes right in front of me. Guys can’t help themselves.  It is sort of like that proverbial moth to the flame. Nonetheless, in every instance I have ever witnessed or heard of she has been steadfast in her loyalty to me. And I have tried to return everything she gives me with compound interest.

But I am always aware that there are men waiting in line behind me.

I had never been that angry at her for fucking Murphy. I could see how she had been maneuvered into giving it up to him. I saw that even before we first talked and agreed to separate. And after cleaning up the mess that Murphy had caused with the Feds I could see that he was a very clever and unscrupulous fellow indeed.

Her emotional affair was something that I WAS hurt by. But I could also understand how it happened now. And frankly any anger about that would be a double edged sword, since I would have to let myself in for part of the blame.

There were also mitigating circumstances to explain whatever steps she took out of bounds. Those made it particularly easy to forgive her. First and foremost, if you have ever gotten the full treatment from my wife you will understand why the spur of the moment sex that she had with Murphy was trivial.  If she was truly turned on by the man, she would never just hit-and-run as she did. And now, thanks to my eavesdropping, the emotional attachment she had formed with the guy, which was what had really enraged me, was understandable. As a result, I was ready to call her tomorrow and begin the reconciliation process.

Most importantly I had the key to rebuilding our relationship and I was NOT going to lose that. I knew that I had to pay closer attention to romancing my wife. I might have been excused for putting her in the second seat while I was building a career but that was behind me now. The business was thriving and I knew that I had hired good people, with one horrible exception. Cleaning up the fallout from Murphy’s exploit proved that. So those people could run the business now.

I didn’t think it would take long to put us back together since I was certain that we both unequivocally loved each other. The only condition for assuming our happy life would be to find a comfortable middle ground in our day-to-day existence where we could both feel adequately fulfilled.

I was trying to decide whether weekends in Paris, or London would be more exiting for Janet when my phone rang. I was about to answer it when I saw that the inbound call was to Janet, not me. When I had Bluebugged Lance at the restaurant, I had dropped a little piece of malware on his phone. It was a simple application that did one thing. It alerted me when he called Janet’s number.

It also let me listen in to what was being said; like it was an old-fashioned party line. It was strictly man-in-the-middle stuff. I could listen but I was muted on my end. Nothing would be more disruptive to my goal of surreptitious listening then to have the two parties hear something unexpectedly foreign in the background of their call.  And the way the wind was rocking the vehicle that I was driving, it was getting very noisy inside my car.

I was interested in what Lance would have to say to Janet. I was even more interested in what she had to say to him. I had KNOWN that Lance was going to make a move on her. Every OTHER guy in the room can tell when a man makes the decision to move in on a woman. It’s part of our internal wiring. We just know it.

I eased the phone up to my ear with my heart hammering in my chest. This was something that I didn’t want to deal with right now. But it was what it was. I didn’t miss the irony that I was making my final plans for reconciliation just as some other man was taking the steps to try to tear us apart. I pulled over to the side of the road and killed the wipers. All I could hear around me was the pounding of the rain and the occasional roll of thunder.

I heard Janet say, “Lance, why are you calling me at this hour?!” He responded with some lame story about how she had to help him with some paperwork. She asked him, “Why now?” He responded that he had only just thought about it when the group went out today. I was certain that he had thought of SOMETHING then, and Rebecca’s fucking him afterward just seemed to have whetted his appetite for the main course.

Lance was determined though. He invoked the formal mentor relationship that the Board of Education had saddled Janet with.  And she eventually gave in. I don’t suppose she had an option at that point. Both of us knew that Lance was enough of a weasel that he would have probably whined to the Board if she hadn’t.

Janet’s voice had the unmistakable sound of irritation as she said, “I want to go to sleep no later than 10:30 so you had better get your ass over here.” And she slammed the phone down.

I did a U-turn and headed back the way I had come. My condo is about as far from the restaurant in one direction as our house is in the other. So it would take a little while to get there.  Nevertheless, I was unquestionably going to break this up. I had no idea what Lance planned but unlike Janet I had recorded proof of what he was capable of. And I did not have a good feeling about what was going to happen.

The storm was reaching a crescendo outside the car. Getting around wasn’t going to be the problem. It was the falling tree limbs and flying debris that were the problem. I drive a Range Rover HSE. That vehicle would be just as comfortable riding along in total luxury on a glacier, in the trackless wilderness of Greenland, as it was here on Long Island.  And given what was happening outside it was ninety thousand bucks well spent. 

Normally it takes me about 20 minutes to go door-to-door. But as various things flew past me tonight I was moving along at about ten miles an hour.  As I crept along I took the tablet out of my pocket and activated my connection to the RAT that I had also dropped on Lance’s phone. That gave me audio but in the storm even 4G wasn’t enough bandwidth for video. 

As I pinged and acquired Lance’s phone I heard muffled voices. I turned both of our volumes up to max. Just then a flying tree limb caused me to take a detour through a ditch that was already full of water. Any car but the Rover would have stalled out at that point. But I just drove majestically through the ditch and up the other side, leaving a wake like the Queen Mary.

I finally got the volume adjusted and I heard Janet droning on in a bored tone of voice about some bureaucratic form that they were filling out. I could hear the clink of plates and glasses like they were eating and drinking. I heard Janet say, “The cannelloni are delicious Lance, where did you get them?”

He said, “It’s my special recipe.” I smelled a 200-pound rat so I immediately hit the record function on the tablet. From now on Lance was on the record. They continued along with the paperwork. Janet was clearly leading the shithead through something he was supposed to know as part of his job. And frankly from the conversation I was pretty sure that the paperwork would really not have been a problem for him, if he wasn’t using it as a ploy to get at Janet.

Suddenly I heard Janet say in a very strained voice, “I think you had better leave right now Lance. I don’t feel well at all.”  And there was the sound of some desperate moving of chairs and things being knocked over. The phone in Lance’s pocket was clearly being jostled by contact with another body. Then I heard her desperate voice say, “Call 911.”

At that point I didn’t care about flying tree limbs and downed power wires. Come hell or high water I had to get there as fast as I could.  As I floored it, I heard Janet starting to moan in a sexual way and then Lance’s cheerful voice tell her that she had just eaten his own personal concoction of Rohypnol and Ecstasy, which he had embedded in the cannelloni filling. I knew that my wife was in big-time trouble.

His phone picked up the sound of footsteps and then a body being tossed on our bed. In the meantime, Janet was making sounds like a cat in-heat. I knew that it was the Ecstasy that had her so fired up. Lance was jauntily saying, “You won’t remember anything in the morning. But I can guarantee that you will totally love what’s going to happen to you TONIGHT.” The shrieks and loud cries of female passion that followed were killing me.

I heard Lance say. “That’s it baby play with yourself. Put your fingers in that hole and churn them around. I love to watch a woman getting herself off. Look how wet everything is; how covered your thighs and pussy are with your own juices.” In the meantime, Janet was just screaming in wild abandon.

I had finally gotten to our house.  As I roared up to the front, I was listening to the sound of Janet yelling, “Stop playing with me and fuck me! I have to have your cock in me NOW!” That was followed by the loudest groan I had heard so far and a shrieked “AHHH, OH YESSSS, OH GOD!!” followed by the sound of wild thrashing.

I was fumbling in my console for the Asp Talon that I keep there. It could easily pass for a flashlight. But in my humble opinion the Asp ought to be the weapon of choice for all out of shape business executives. I keep a number of them stashed in various places including my Rover.

The problem with a gun is that you have to be willing to shoot somebody to use it. And the authorities tend to frown on people making holes in other people, no matter how justified that outcome might be. 

I am 50 years old and I have never been particularly over-endowed in the muscles department. I am definitely NOT a black belt in anything. The only belt I have holds my pants up. I have nowhere near the balls to actually get in a hand-to-hand fight with a knife. And I am way too uncoordinated to use fancy ninja gear like throwing stars, or nunchucks.

But I CAN swing a club. That is where the Asp fighting baton comes in.

Fully deployed it is 26 inches of lightweight steel. It comes in an easy to conceal eight-inch package. So you can carry it in a suit pocket and instantly deploy it with the flick of a wrist. And with the accelerator cap accessory I can get the tip up to supersonic speeds. When I do, an Asp strike is temporarily more devastating than actually being shot. But, done right it leaves no holes.

I am so capable with the thing, that I fear nobody with my Asp in my hand. I bought my first one ten years ago, as a means of self-protection. And I practiced using it in the basement aiming at balls suspended on wire from the ceiling. First it was baseballs. Then ping pong balls and by the end I was picking swinging marbles out of the air. I got so obsessed with perfecting my accuracy and technique that Janet told me to practice somewhere else, because the crack of the tip breaking the sound barrier was annoyingly loud. Nonetheless, all of that drill has made me quite an artiste with the thing.

I really didn’t have a plan. The Asp was going to lay the guy out, no question about that. But I had to get some situational awareness in order to decide how seriously I wanted to fuck him up. I had to literally fight the wind all the way to the front porch and I was soaked when I got there. But my wife was being violated in that house and her pain completely obliterated any effects of the storm on me.

Janet was groaning loudly and humidly as I neared the bedroom. She was making explicit suggestions about how long and hard shithead had to pound her. And she was also singing the praises of his big cock. She was being so vocal about the thing that she would have been the first victim of my wrath, if I didn’t know the effect that Ecstasy has on most women; particularly a passionate woman like Janet. And I knew that she wouldn’t remember anything about tonight when she woke up.

As I rushed into the bedroom I saw that he had her flat on her back. Her powerful dancer’s legs were straight up in the air and then she wrapped around his waist with her ankles locked. I could see his cock doing a disappearing and reappearing act into her hole and it instantly hit me what I wanted to do.

The smell of aroused woman would have normally distracted me, if I wasn’t in such a focused blood red haze of anger. I strode up behind the wildly fucking couple and the second I got in range I whipped an Asp strike onto the two centimeter spot between his frantically pumping buttocks. That place was nicely exposed as he withdrew before plunging back into Janet’s clearly famished hole.

My strike landed perfectly on the area between his butthole and balls. It was a mere tap by Asp standards. But there are a lot of nerves in that very sensitive area of the body. So he must have felt like he had been kicked in the nuts by Francis the Talking Mule, while being simultaneously butt-fucked by John Holmes.

The pain had to be unspeakable and best of all there would be no evidence of what had happened when the authorities got him to the hospital. Hence, no embarrassing questions from the Police.

He shrieked in agony. All is muscles contracted and he spasmed straight up in the air like a marlin about to be boated. Then he slammed down on his back on the floor. At that point he came like old faithful. Ropes of spunk shot up in the air, coming back to land all over his chest and face. 

I had the feeling that I had blown up his prostate, since it is located at ground zero on the inside of where the strike hit. I was actually savoring the thought that that would make it a little problematic for his future sex life. Then Lance lost all control of his bowels. I was trying hard not to think about what THAT was going to do to our rug.

He was out cold. I couldn’t imagine how much pain he must be in. It was probably just as well he was out. I hated the fucker but I didn’t want complications. His being unconscious took him out of the picture while I called 911. I ordered two busses at our address. They said that the storm might cause a delay but that they would be there within a half hour.

Janet in the meantime was screaming like a crazy woman as her heels beat out a cadence on the bed, “Where did you go? Come back and fuck me. I have to have you inside me. You have to get me THERE!!!” Her eyes were sightless, rolled totally up in her head.  She had two handfuls of covers and was pulling on them for all she was worth. Her legs were spread-eagled as she humped the air and her pussy was bright cherry red.

I gathered her up in my arms. She fought me like a wildcat, trying to get me to finish her.I just held her tightly to my chest, her arms pinned against her sides while she moaned wildly and thrashed. To say that I was in pain, as I held my wildly struggling wife, would be a vast understatement. I have cried exactly twice in my life, both times when each of my parents died. But I was absolutely sobbing with relief and fury as I held her.

Eventually her writhing started to die down and I let her lie back on the bed. Lance was still out cold but he had started to moan. I had a feeling that once he came around he would soon be screaming. I called 911 again and asked them for an ETA. They told me that two busses plus the police were about 2 minutes out. I told them to come directly to our master bedroom and to bring the stretchers.

I opened the front door to the storm. The blue and red lights of the arriving vehicles reflected on the walls of my hallway. There was the noise and bustle of first responders arriving at a scene. I was back to standing outside our room as the EMTs brushed past me, all focused efficiency.

The first team in the door rushed over to Janet, who was totally unconscious at this point. The second team attended to Lance, who was starting to come around. I could hear him begin to cry-out in agony. The EMT’s got him on the classic wheeled stretcher and strapped him down prior to sedating him.

The guy who was obviously the lead EMT came up to me with one of the cops. He said, “What happened?” I said in a totally matter-of-fact voice, “I found him raping my wife and I kicked him in the crotch to get him off of her. I didn’t mean to hurt him but I was defending her.”

The EMT looked at Lance like he was dog-shit on the bottom of his shoe and said, “You actually hit him right where you should to accomplish that. He is going to be very sore for a long time but you didn’t damage his scrotum. He’s lucky. Most husbands would have aimed for the balls.”

I said mildly, “I was just trying to get him off of her, not seriously hurt him. I’m really not a fighter.” I added, “My wife has been drugged, I heard him mention Rohypnol and Ecstasy as I came in the room.”

The head EMT looked even more disgusted and said, “Unfortunately we have started to see a lot of that. It will wash out of her system and she won’t remember anything. In the meantime, we will get her into a nice safe hospital bed where she can sleep it off and get a rape-kit and blood panel for the police.”

I thanked him and the EMT’s began to move the two semi-conscious people out to their busses. Then the inevitable questions started from the two cops. I told them that I had come home to the sounds of wild sex coming from our bedroom. I had rushed in like the aggrieved husband that I was, to find Lance on top of my wife and had reflexively kicked him to get him off of Janet.

I wanted the cops out of the picture and so I had decided to play the role of the frightened older man facing a much larger younger man. The picture I was drawing was of a humble 50-year-old guy defending his home from an intruder and after a few perfunctory questions the cops bought it.

I said mildly, “He was a lot bigger than me and I didn’t think that I could stop him any other way.” I was getting a distracted, “Yeah-yeah-yeah” from them. They had a much more significant fish to fry. It was obvious that they wanted to get to the hospital, so they could start the process of collaring Lance for rape. Of course I didn’t mention the Asp, which was already neatly tucked away in the back of my closet. That might have tilted the picture in a direction I didn’t want it to lean.

They all left and I noticed for the first time that I was completely soaked and freezing to death. I was also in my own version of shock. This was about as traumatic a situation as I have ever been in. And as far as I was concerned my only plan was to take a hot shower and get down to the hospital to comfort my wife. 

I didn’t know what I felt. I consider myself to be a strong minded guy and there was no way I was going to let a slimy mother-fucker like Lance impinge one iota on my feelings for Janet, or my marriage. I was certainly not feeling cuckolded, as I had with Murphy.

I saw Janet as nothing more than a helpless victim of a really vile human being. You would have to be a complete psychopath to think that she had enjoyed being raped. Her wild response to him was just the human animal under extreme sexual stimulation.

In fact, I was actually back to irrationally blaming myself for the whole thing. I think I felt like a lot of men feel when something happens to their mate, “I should have been there for her.” That thought DID reinforce what I had already decided. We would never be apart again; at least as long as I was upright and breathing.

I took a hot shower to stop the uncontrolled shaking and dressed in something comfortable for what I knew would be a long sleepless night at her bedside. The storm had abated and by the time I parked in the lot next to Huntington’s ER I was feeling almost normal.

I checked in at the nurse’s station and the kindly and very efficient person who was manning it got all the necessary insurance information. She said that both Janet and Lance were in rooms and that they were being attended to.  She told me to take a seat and that the doctor would be with me shortly.

I sat there nervously waiting. I had no idea what the effects of any of those drugs would be on Janet and I was also wondering if my story about Lance would hold up. When they got around to taking a serious look at him it would be hard to believe that my shoe could cause the damage that I knew they would find.

The doctor came into the waiting room a short time later. To my ancient eyes he looked like Doogie Howser; perhaps 14 years old.  He also had the tired, but measured air that most ER Docs have. He dropped into the chair next to me and said, “We have examined your wife and gotten her blood down to the lab. If it is as I suspect, there will be no long-term repercussions. Short term she will feel like she has a vicious hangover and she is going to want to sleep most of the day tomorrow.”

Then he hesitated and said with the same efficient tone of voice, “The good news is that the fetus was not harmed in any way. “I felt a liberating wave of relief wash over me as I processed his statement

And then the little voice in my head did a double take and said, “EXCUUUSE ME! Did he just say FETUS?”

I said out loud, “I must have misheard you. Did you say that my wife is pregnant???!!!!”

He said, “Yes, approximately two months. Didn’t you know?”

I said, “But that’s impossible, we can’t have children!” He said, “I would have to look at your medical history to determine that. But the fact is that your wife is carrying a first trimester baby.”

I was on automatic pilot as I thanked the Doc. He said, “I can take you back to her room if you would like. We allow spouses to spend the night if they so desire.” I most definitely, so desired.

A lot had changed in the past two hours. She looked like Snow White now. Her beautiful face was composed and peaceful. Her hands were resting at her side next to her. Her gorgeous body, with those huge tits was starkly outlined underneath the tightly wrapped hospital blanket.

According to the doctor they had done nothing but sedate her and make her comfortable for observation. There was an IV drip running but I think it was intended to just keep her hydrated. It might also have been administering more sedative.

I walked to the side of her bed and looked down at her. I just stared. Her face is so classically beautiful and lying there she looked SO sweet and innocent. She was my angel and I had done this to her. I pulled a chair next to the bed, sat down and took her hand and started to cry again. God! I hoped everybody stayed out of the fucking room until I stopped sniveling. Real men don’t do things like that. But real men DON’T put their wives out there for the predators to feast on and I had done THAT.

What I had done was a perfect example of my personal brand of hubris. I had overthought things as usual, which is my fatal flaw. From her initial reaction all of my instincts told me that she was a victim, not a perpetrator. And I knew that I loved her with all of my worthless heart. But she had hurt me.

So, my male ego insisted on a bullshit mind-game in order to take an obligatory piece off of her. I even knew at the time that what I was doing was nothing more than childish petulance. The fact that I had followed through on the separation was just my failure to accept reality and simply move on with that I truly knew, which was that I loved her. I promised myself, “This is the denouement. It all stops here.”

She was pregnant now. I had no reason to think that it WASN’T my baby. We had some very vigorous sex in the window when the conception took place. Of course we had spent years trying to get her pregnant and the medical establishment had made it clear to us that we would never conceive a child.

We both had fully functioning equipment.  But there was something about blood type, mismatched enzymes and PH, which in our specific case prevented things from coming together. It was all medical mumbo-jumbo to me. I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it. Janet is a lot more knowledgeable than I am when it comes to the complexities of female technology; and what the doctors had told her seemed to answer her questions.

Of course, the thought had immediately hit me that she probably would be able to conceive with somebody else’s contribution and she HAD also gotten one of those in the time-frame we were talking about. But then again, that was still in the realm of speculation. The only way we could ever find out for sure was to have the baby’s paternity tested and that was the LAST thing we were going to do.

I am aware that the term “cuckold” is derived from the odd habit of the cuckoo of laying its eggs in other bird’s nests, and then leaving them for the other bird to take care of. And frankly I gave not a damn whether the person who impregnated Janet was me or Murphy, since as far as I was concerned nurture would far outweigh nature in this case.

This child would be my progeny in every respect, except the possibility that its genetic material might not be mine. Parenthood is a much more profound life-experience than the trivial question of who the sperm-donor actually was. And I would never know for sure who had contributed the DNA that made my kid. That was because I had made the conscious decision never to find out.

Whoever this little person would turn out to be would be the sum of Janet’s and my parenting. I would love that child with every fiber of my being until the day I died, just as I did its mother. And both Janet and I would make certain that its actual paternity would never be an issue. That baby would be ours and ours only.

So I treated the doctor’s news with the respect and joy it deserved. Of course I still had the matter of Janet’s rape to deal with. In my mind it would be a timing issue. The news about the child would be a bombshell and I was certain she would go to the same place that I had when she learned that somebody had knocked her up.

I would be insanely cruel to drop the whole thing on her in one helping. If the doctor was correct, Janet would not remember anything about the actual rape. Her last memories would be some time in the prior afternoon. There might be some flashes of later happenings but those would be in her brain’s short term memory and they would be quickly overwritten as soon as she began to record memories again.

I made the decision to bring her back through that route.  If she had been poisoned she would not blame herself for dropping dead. I wanted her to understand that this was exactly the same situation with the date-rape drug. My aim would be to have her understand that she was not responsible for anything that had transpired and if worse-came-to-worse I could play a heavily redacted version of the recording that I had made to reinforce that.

THEN I would drop the other thing on her. Of course my begging her on the spot to be allowed to come back home would also be an emotional happening. But we had been working on that already and it was anticipated. So I was hoping it would be nothing more than a ripple compared to the reason why she was lying here in drug induced unconsciousness.  THAT was the MAIN issue. 

The prosecution of this dude was going to be excruciating and it would be her call as to what she wanted to do with him. But I am wealthy enough to hire the kind of legal counsel that can flay the hide off the guy and then give it to me as a bathmat. That was going to happen for certain.

The cops walked in as I was sleeping in the chair that I had placed next to her bed. I was still holding her hand as it rested on top of the covers. These guys were detectives, not uniforms. The guy who was obviously the senior investigator said, “We just have a couple more questions for you.”

I said, “I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, detective.”

The cop said, “We haven’t been able to talk with the man who you claimed was raping your wife. They have him totally under for the pain. You really did a number on him.”

I thought, “Not as much as I wanted to and there is still plenty more where that came from.” But instead I just nodded with my best frightened middle age male, non-entity appearance on my face.

The cop said, “Walk us through this again. He is obviously going to claim that your wife invited him in and that was what you interrupted.”

I said, “I have it recorded. It was rape. You can have the recording.”

The cop looked super-suspicious and said, “You record your wife?” I had to deflect his suspicion from Janet and there was no better way to do that than to play the fool. So I made up a little fairy tale.

I said, “We are undergoing a trial separation. I did some foolish things in the past but I am working to have her forgive me. I might be a little on the insanely jealous side, but I don’t really trust the bitch while we are apart. How could you REALLY trust a woman as beautiful as she is?” and gestured toward my sleeping angel. They both nodded knowingly.

I added, “So I put a voice activated recorder in her bedroom just to make sure that she wasn’t doing to me what I had done to her. I have it wired to the internet and I check it once in a while. There has been nothing on it since we split up; until tonight. I caught the whole thing. That’s why I was Johnny on the spot in the first place” I pushed “play” on my smartphone.

The cops heard the desperation in Janet’s voice as she mumbled “call 911”. Then they heard Lance’s smug voice say, “No need to do that my dear. What you just ate was my own personal concoction of Rohypnol and Ecstasy in a tasty Ricotta filling. I see that you enjoyed it and it IS harmless and undetectable once it’s passed out of your system.”

The cops looked astonished as Dickbreath continued talking, “Women think that date-rape drugs can only be delivered in drinks. So they fall for the food gambit every time. You won’t remember anything in the morning. But I can guarantee that you will totally love what’s going to happen to you TONIGHT.”

I shut off the recorder. I could see the cops were on the case. The lead guys said with contempt, “I don’t know what kind of creep bugs his own wife. But this is pretty damning evidence. We’ll put the guy under hospital arrest while we decide what to charge him with. In the meantime, we might want to talk with both of you again when we get the blood panel and rape kit back. The Doc says she should be back to normal in one, or two days.”

I said with steel in my voice, “We will talk with you when Janet is ready to do that and no sooner. In the meantime, talk to my lawyer. It isn’t that I don’t want to cooperate with you guys but my wife’s health and well-being are my first priority. Will there be any problems about what I did to him?”

The cop thought about it for a second and looked at his partner who nodded. He said, “No, you were just defending her from a predator in your own house. And you only kicked him once. That’s right isn’t it?” and he gave me a penetrating stare. It was obvious that he didn’t think one middle aged man could cause that much damage with his shoe.

I said, with the mildest and most innocent straight face I could muster, “I only kicked him once. But I kicked him as HARD as I COULD. He WAS a lot bigger than me you know? I guess it was just a lucky shot.” Then I looked at him with phony concern plastered on my face and said with my most convincing fake sincerity, “I really didn’t intend to hurt him that badly”.

The cop nodded and said, “No, there won’t be any further questions about his injuries. He got what he deserved.”  Then he and his partner turned and left. I felt totally vindicated.

I went back to dozing in my chair. I had never let go of Janet’s hand all the time the police and I were talking. I was actually asleep for several hours. I have a perception over the next several hours that hospital staff came and went. Sometime during that period, I had dropped Janet’s hand. I awoke to light shining in through the window of the room. It looked like a beautiful sunny morning. I glanced in Janet’s direction. I could see that she was awake and anguish and confusion were written all over her face.

I got up, poured a glass of water and walked over to the bed and handed to her. She took it and gulped the entire glass down. Her tone of voice was panicked as she said, “Where am I? What happened?”

I said, “Shhhhhh my love. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Chapter Ten: Their Story

I was feeling very strange, as Tom and I were diving off of Nassau. I was kicking my way to the surface. The water was warm and crystal clear. But I was having the oddest, most stimulating sensations as I rose. I couldn’t reconcile the erotic sensations that were passing through my body with the fact that I was underwater. It almost felt like the air in my scuba tank was giving me continuous orgasms.

When I broke out into the sunshine of Abaco Island the scene suddenly underwent one of those disorienting camera shifts that you sometimes see in the movies.  I was no longer in the Bahamas. I was lying in a bed, wired to a monitor and with an IV bag dripping a solution into my arm. Tom was lying slumped in a chair next to me, asleep.

My first thoughts were puzzlement and a weird premonition of unease. That quickly morphed into stark raving terror. I couldn’t understand what happened and what I was doing there. My sounds of distress must have awakened Tom because he stretched languidly and then focused his eyes on me. I was feeling around on the bed trying to determine where I was.

He rose with concern on his face. Poured me a glass of water and brought it to me. He said, “Here drink this.” I was so thirsty that I thought I was going to die. So I grabbed the glass out of his hand and greedily gulped the entire thing down. My head pounded like I had chased a bottle of vodka with a gallon of tequila. I looked at him beseechingly.

He smiled lovingly and said, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

I said, still barely restraining my panic, “Where am I? Why am I here?” 

He said, “First let me get a nurse to check you out and then we can talk.” At that point he left the room. He came back very shortly with a woman in hospital scrubs who fussed around the instruments and then checked the drip that ran into my arm.

She made an adjustment and said to both of us, “Your heart rate is elevated, which is understandable. This is a mild analgesic and sedative mix in a saline solution. It will calm you down. I dialed the sedative up a little bit to help you relax.”

She turned to Tom and said, “You can talk to her if you wish. But please be careful.” Then she smiled sympathetically and left the room.

I looked at him with total confusion. He would explain things. First-and-foremost He has always been my best friend. And I needed him to make my situation understandable. He said, “There are some difficult things I need to discuss with you.”

He saw my look of utter anguish and he hastily added, “No! It doesn’t involve you-and-me except the fact that I am here as your husband and forever companion in life.” I calmed down.

He went on with, “What can you remember about yesterday?”

I thought back. I remembered talking with Marcy in school and I remembered being at our favorite restaurant with Rebecca and Sharita and Marcy and Lance. After that I couldn’t remember anything. There were some flashes of totally abandoned sex, but those had to be part of my blackout. I said, “Was I in an automobile accident?”

Tom said, “There is no way I can sugar coat what I am going to tell you. Are you strong enough to hear this?”

I said, “I have to know what is going on and I have to know THAT right now. Whatever it is I can get past it as long as I have you here to love me.”

He actually looked uncharacteristically unsure of himself as he said, “Maybe that is the place to start then. I want to know if I can come home and we can be husband and wife again.” My heart soared with happiness.

I said, “Of course you can. I wanted to talk with you about that too. I feel like I have come to an understanding with myself and that I will never let you down again.”

He said, “Well that leads me to what I have to say. There is one condition for my coming home.”

I felt a chill. I said, “Why are there conditions? I give myself to you totally. I have missed you more than you can imagine and that I can EVER express.”

He said, “My only condition is that you forgive me. I failed you in the most fundamental way that a husband can fail his wife and I need you to tell me that you forgive me for that.”

I said, “What are you talking about? I was the one who strayed. I let YOU down.”

He said, “That was trivial compared to what I did to you. I left you alone; unprotected out there in the wild. You are here because MY personal weakness put you in this bed.”

I was getting panicked again. I said frantically, “YOU put me here. What did you DO to me?”

He said, “I was not there to prevent your colleague Lance Jones from drugging you and raping you. That is why you are here. He put a date-rape concoction into something you ate last night and was in the process of attacking you when I showed up. The bastard is in intensive care right now and I sincerely hope they don’t save his balls. Needless to say the cops have him handcuffed to the bed.”

I was horror-stricken. It was obvious that Tom was distraught. But men have no concept of what a personal violation like rape does to a woman. I was totally devastated by the thought. It was an all-consuming emotional tidal wave.

Men have some infantile idea that a woman who is being raped views the event as a sexual encounter. After all, what is involved involves sex. But the fact is that we view our defilement as the most despicable form of personal aggression imaginable.

Rape corrodes a woman’s very soul.  It takes away control over the sanctity of our own bodies and it attacks our innate perception of self-worth. As a result, women who have been raped have a very hard time losing their feelings of personal degradation and hatred for the person who assaulted them.

And we view anybody who perpetrates a crime like that as the worst kind of gutless loser. No woman will EVER see their rapist as anything but a sociopathic coward.

I am aware that there are adolescent male fantasies about how grateful the woman will be once they have eventually sampled the perpetrator’s goods. Let me assure you that there is no such thing as an appreciative response by a woman to some man who takes them by force. It is plain and simple a hate crime. Any man who believes otherwise is delusional.

Nevertheless, it had happened to me.

I tried to process what Tom had said. If Lance was not exactly my friend, he was at least a colleague and mentoree. So his level of betrayal just crushed me. My heart rate accelerated and the machines went crazy. The nurse rushed into the room. She gave Tom an exasperated, “What did I just tell you!!??” look.  Another one followed with a needle in her hand and I mercifully went back to sleep.

It was getting dark outside when I awoke again. Tom was sitting in the same chair looking at me. Anxiety was written all over his face. He set down his tablet computer, which is attached to him like an appendage, and poured me another glass of water. I drank it just as greedily as the first time. He said with a soft ironic smile, “Welcome back” and stroked my head.

I felt a lot better than this morning. I tried a wan smile and said, “I feel like somebody has worked me over with a baseball bat. But at least I don’t want to die now.”

He said, “Do you want to talk about it some more? Or do you want to just lie there and let me tell you about all of the exciting trips I have been planning for us?”

That reminded me why I was here and I felt the same wave of revulsion that I had experienced this morning. But this time I had it under control. My unconscious mind must have been processing the news while I was under the sedative. I said, “No, I want to talk about it. How can you even look at me after knowing what happened?”

He gave me the most loving smile I have ever seen and said, “You are my wife, my lover and my best friend. You had nothing to do with what happened to you. I know that because I was listening into the whole thing.”

Then he proceeded to tell me how he was in the restaurant when I came in. He said he just sat and watched me because he didn’t want to intrude. I knew that he was using the opportunity to spy on me with my friends. But I let that go. A girl needs to be assured that the love of her life is paying attention to her. So I WANT him to feel a little jealous and protective.

He said that he had put some things on Lance’s phone that let him listen in on everything that shithead had said. Tom told me that he had learned something shocking by doing that, but that it didn’t really concern me. He said that we could talk about that later.

Then he told me about the phone call, which I vaguely remembered and his subsequent listening in on the whole dreadful act as he rushed to the house to save me. He told me that he had used the weapon that he spent so much time in our basement with. I felt a little sorry about all of the grief that I had given him for the noise he was making down there.

He explained how we could never share the fact that he had used that thing on Lance, since it would change things with the police. Apparently Lance was in very bad shape down in the ICU. But the police had accepted Tom’s version of events, which was that he merely kicked him. And so Tom was off the hook regarding any other kind of official action.

More importantly, he told me that he would never leave my side again. He said that he felt like my rape was his fault for coming up with the separation idea in the first place. I told him in no uncertain terms that it was BOTH of our ideas to separate and that whatever his motivation, even if it was childish, I needed the space to become a stronger person.

I added that I thought that I had proven that I had achieved the strength of character that I was seeking. I had experienced the worst possible thing that could happen to a woman and I was still in my right mind. I laughed softly and added, “You can believe that by the fact that I am talking about this to you rationally, without getting too far off the deep end.”

I actually felt more secure and happy than I had in months. Tom had proven to me by his actions that he was still mine. He had looked after me like my guardian angel, even when I wasn’t aware of it. And he wanted to go through life side-by-side with me again.

What had happened was horrible enough that it would take some time to wrestle it into a box in my subconscious. And I felt an overwhelming need to talk to Chelsea, my therapist, about it. But none of that mattered. I had my husband and my life back. I smiled

He looked at me still with concern and added, “There is one more thing we have to discuss.” I thought, “Uh-oh!”

He said, “There is another bombshell that I have to lay on you. It is the best possible news for both of us. But you might initially take it wrong. So you are going to have to hear me completely out without interrupting. Can you do that?”

My heart began to sink again. The machines started chattering and the nurse rushed in. I said, “It’s okay, I’m really okay. I can handle this.” The nurse looked relieved and walked back out.

I said, “I wish they would take these monitor things off me. They are ratting me out. Okay, so what other life changing news do you have for me? I don’t think you can top what you told me this morning.”

He smiled warmly, like he had a happy secret, and said, “Oh yes I can! We are going to have a baby! I know that you are going to think the same thing that I thought and perhaps we are right. But I want to reassure you that I am completely and utterly at peace accepting that this is OUR child, with no conditions, or restrictions.

He beamed at me with love as he said, “And I will love our child with the single minded energy that I love you. We will raise this little one as the proudest parents in Suffolk County, if not the entire world. And I want you to know that you have made me happier and more fulfilled than any human male has the right to be.”

I heard the words but they did not register. I have wanted to give him a baby since we were married. I have a special love for children that is far deeper than most women. It is a need that is totally innate in me, one that is a particular aspect of my personality. And the news that we could not get me pregnant was devastating to me.

I knew instantly what Tom was talking about. The term “adultery” derives from the word “adulterate” which is Latin. It implies debasement by “mixing” inferior ingredients. The risk of adulterating the child’s genetic origin’s through sex with a man outside of the marriage bond is the reason why adultery is a taboo in every culture, and a serious crime in some. 

Tom and I have been having unprotected sex since we were married and there has never been even a hint to suggest I might get pregnant. We had tried for a long time to conceive and we were told that there was an unfortunate alignment of conception factors that would prevent that. The fact that I WAS pregnant now, more-or-less indicated outside involvement.

I had sex with Jim Murphy in the same window that the baby was conceived in. So it would be reasonable to assume that the baby was his, not Tom’s. There might be a possibility that some aspect of our OWN physiology had changed since the time that we got the diagnosis. That change might allow us to conceive. But old Occam tells us that the simplest explanation is probably the right one. And my guess was that he was correct in this case.

I was both exhilarated and humiliated at the thought of having a baby fathered by another man. But I “got” what Tom was telling me. We would only know who the real father was if we went to the trouble of finding that out.

As long as we never found out who the actual father was, the possibility would always exist that this child was really Tom’s. And since he had already made up his mind that the child was his in every way he would love it as such. And we would sort out any vaguely imaginable contingent issues if and when they occurred. 

I am not sure it is possible to respect my husband more. But he had reached some sort of new pinnacle of wisdom and self-sacrifice for me. If I could have dragged him into my bed and fucked him without setting off the damn monitors, I would have done it. That was I was feeling for the man at that moment.

I smiled at him and said with the utmost sincerity, “Of course this baby is yours and we will bring it up surrounded by the love we feel for each other. And any further discussion is pointless. That is because there will never be a question in either of our minds that this is not your child. I am proud to be able to give you this precious gift and I will always be indebted to you for giving it to me.”

He leaned down and kissed me so tenderly that I had a moment of weeping. I told him that I was crying out of pure joy.

They wanted to keep me overnight.  I told Tom to go home and get some sleep. He told me that he had spent almost two months away from me and that they would have to anesthetize him to get him out of my room. He said that he had gone home to shower and change while I was sleeping, and that as far as he was concerned he was as fresh as a daisy.

The police made one more visit. They wanted to talk with ME. They told me that they had found sufficient date-rape drugs in my system to knock out a welterweight grizzly-bear. So they wanted to know whether I would testify to what had happened going forward. I assured them that I would do whatever it took to ensure a long stay in jail for the asshole who had put me in this hospital bed.

They asked me how committed I was to testifying at a trial. They told me that the defense would be sure to go after me on the stand. They would claim that I was the guilty party, the one who had lured poor troubled Lance into my boudoir. They also told me that my entire sexual past would be brought up.

I told them that his lawyer would never break me. I told them that I didn’t care how embarrassing it was, nobody would do what he did to me and then intimidate me into not telling the world about it. 

Tom added, “You DO recall that I have the entire thing recorded. No matter how creepy that makes me sound I would be happy to provide it as evidence. I also have another incident recorded, which is only going to further confirm that the man is a predator.”

The detectives nodded and left. They were clearly satisfied. I could tell by the way they glanced, first at each other, and then at me, that they were sure that I would not let them down.

I was beginning to feel very good about my newfound spirit. Then it dawned on me what Tom had just said. I turned to him with a certain amount of suspicion in my voice, “What else do you have recorded, Buster?”

He said, “Don’t take this wrong but I dropped a bug on Lance’s phone as soon as he left the restaurant. I also picked this up. It might be something that you ought to know. Please don’t let it upset you.”

He took out his tablet, selected a file and pushed “play”. What I heard was my best friend Rebecca loudly and thoroughly betraying her husband and her marriage in the most wanton fashion imaginable.

At first I couldn’t comprehend what I was hearing. I know Rebecca. Her family is everything to her. And there is no question in my mind that she absolutely loves her husband to death. How could she do something like that? And the outright shamelessness of her behavior surprised me. Rebecca has always been a mouse.

I said, “When did you record this?”

He said, “They did it in the parking lot right after the rest of you left.”

Unbelievable! I knew that I had to have a “Come to Jesus” talk with my friend as soon as I got out of the hospital. I WAS aware that Lance had been working hard on her. And I knew that she was not capable of holding off a true predator. She was just too inexperienced with men to say “no” to a slick guy like Lance.

It was a certainty that he would get to her sooner or later if he really wanted her. But I wondered why he had picked out Rebecca’s marriage and life to ruin. I asked Tom what he thought. He said that he thought that Lance was hoping that Rebecca would brag to me about what a stud he was, and that I would then be compelled to find out what he had to offer.

I had a couple of thoughts. First, I reckoned that I couldn’t get a lower opinion of Lance and I was completely ashamed that he had indeed gotten to me, even if it required pharmaceutical help. But I was particularly disgusted with Rebecca.

Rebecca was a virgin when she married Bob and the two of them had never really done much more sexually than what it took to make babies. She was a breeder of the most fertile variety and they had kids right away.

So rather than fun, I can imagine that sex for her was all mushed together with notions of procreation.  And I know from being her best friend and confidant that she never saw herself as attractive. She saw herself as cute perhaps, but not the sort of woman that a good looking man like Lance would go out of his way to seduce.

So when Lance put on the full court press she must have given it up to him, just because of the sheer boost to her ego. The other option was curiosity. She might have wanted to sample another cock simply to see what a different one felt like. At any rate, from her passionate and very vocal performance it was obvious that Lance had gotten to her big-time.

Nonetheless, if half of what Tom told me about Lance’s present condition was true, that wasn’t going to happen again. And I was going to find out the details of the whole sordid thing as soon as I was released tomorrow. I had a feeling that she would need a shoulder to cry on, even though getting out of the clutches of that slimy bastard was really the best thing that ever happened to her.

I actually sympathized with what she would be feeling. I remembered several times in my past when it felt like I was coming off an addictive drug after I broke up with a lover who really rang my chimes. But I also knew that you get over it. That is, if you are even halfway well-balanced psychologically.

Rebecca had too many good things in her life; husband, family and career, to want to ruin it over a low-life like Lance. I am sure like all cheaters she believed that she would never get caught. But illicit things have an inconvenient habit of surfacing eventually and the chickens had all come home to roost for Rebecca.

Fortunately, Tom and I were the only two people who knew about her affair and our lips were permanently sealed. More importantly, thanks to Tom I was pretty sure that Lance would not be using his equipment for a while. So Rebecca couldn’t cheat with him if she had wanted to.

Moreover, the self-loathing that came through in her voice told me that she had no feelings for Lance whatsoever, just his cock.

Unfortunately, women will sometimes do things that make them absolutely hate themselves. But they are unable to stop because of their emotions. Women just experience emotion too deeply and our passions put us in situations that we know are wrong. It was evident that Rebecca was suffering from that problem.

It takes nothing more than recognizing that what you are feeling is self-destructive. Then you use your intellect to impose a little self-control. Fortunately, I have been to that rodeo a lot of times and as her friend I was going to make certain that she never strayed again.

Rebecca never had a flock of guys trying to get into her panties. Consequently, she never developed the necessary instincts.  Due to the way I look, I had plenty of opportunity to practice that skill before I turned 20. So I was a master of the art.

As I dozed off I was thinking about the new life that was growing in my belly. I felt like equilibrium had been restored to my life. I had gone through one of those dark passages that life always requires you to transit. But, for every dark passage there is a sunny one. And I knew that I was emerging into the sunlight. There was no challenge that could beat me now, even though I was about to become a mother at 42.

The inexpressible joy that I felt at the thought of bringing a new life into the world made the horror of the other thing evaporate like the proverbial summer dew.


We checked her out of the hospital the following morning. She was in perfect health at that point but the hospital’s orderlies had to do their usual trick of whisking her down to my waiting car in a wheel chair. She looked totally amused as she approached, seated on her wheeled throne. I kissed her fondly and said, “Enjoy your ride, your Majesty?” and got whacked for my trouble.

I had a maid service over at the house most of the day yesterday. They were cleaning and resetting everything in the house to pristine condition. The last thing I wanted was for Janet to be confronted by any evidence of her trauma of three days ago. I had done a thorough inspection before picking her up and the place looked like OUR home again, not the place that I hadn’t lived in for the past two months.

I also checked on Lance’s condition. He was out of intensive care and in a regular room. The Asp strike that I had laid on him had been extremely painful and he was still on drugs but there was no permanent damage to his reproductive system. His prostate was swollen to a point where they still had him peeing through a bag. But there was every indication that he would return to full functionality as a man. That didn’t mean that he still wouldn’t be spending the next five to twenty-five years behind bars. 

My main aim was to ensure that Janet was protected from any further pain. It was essential that I build an unbreakable emotional firewall between her and the heartbreak of the past two months.

I did not want Janet to be interviewed by anybody official. So I had my lawyers talking to the police. They told me that they would take care of the negotiations and if our presence was required they would shepherd the process. More importantly if her testimony was needed they would handle all of the coaching. They said that the prosecutor thought that he had Mr. Jones so dead to rights that there would be a plea deal.

Of course I was also still seriously lusting after revenge. I wanted Mr. Lance Jones to experience the sensation of rape up-close-and-personal. I was thinking that making him some 300-pound inmate’s personal sex toy would be a start. The first prerequisite for being part of my legal staff is to be slightly more ruthless than a Doberman-Pinscher. So I was certain that my guys would make that happen.

Murphy had actually made it all the way down to Havana. It was a classic needle in the haystack problem. There are way too many medium sized sailboats moving up and down the East Coast’s Inland Passage to pick one boat out of the crowd. Of course the Cubans handed him right back to the Feds, since he was of no use to them.

It was gratifying to see the Cuban’s reward Murphy’s betrayal with a little treachery of their own. They deserved each other. Naturally, I never saw the $2 million that he embezzled from me. But that was mainly due to the fact that all traces of Mr. Murphy’s existence had disappeared as soon as he arrived back in Miami. I assumed that he was presently enjoying an all-expenses paid lifetime stay in ADX Florence. It was money well spent.

Janet was a little nervous as we entered our house. The last time we had been together there as husband and wife had been over two months ago. In that time, she had been manipulated into believing that I had betrayed her, been seduced by another man, separated from me and then raped.

I was finally home. It had been a trying time but we were together again and I was completely happy. My old condo would make a dandy tax write-off for my business. I was never going to leave her again and we could always use a place to put up visiting dignitaries.

She walked through the house like she was just visiting. She sat down on the same chair in our kitchen that she always sits in.  In fact, she was sitting in it when she confronted me with the pictures. She looked lost. I said, “Tell me honestly, what’s going through your mind right now?”

She said, “First of all, this is very disorienting. I was sitting in this chair when my world fell apart. I was sitting in it when I discovered how wrong I was about you. And I was sitting in it two days ago when Lance drugged me. It’s almost as if some kind of evil vortex is hovering over it.”

I laughed and said, “We can change that.” And I got up took her hand and steered her over to my usual seat. Then I sat down in hers looked at her brightly and said, “Problem solved!”

I said, “I love you and that will never change. No evil vortex is going to affect us again. I don’t know what ever possessed me to deny the fact that we were meant to be with each other, but we will be together forever, I promise.”

I got up and she stood too. I knew what we both had in mind. It’s the way we have always re-connected after any trouble. I held her at arm’s length and looked into her infinitely deep and beautiful hazel eyes. I could see the intellect and strength playing across her soul like summer lightning on the horizon of a hot summer day.

I could also see her immeasurable passion crouching there like a predator. I felt her gaze pulling me into her with the feminine power that is the essence of woman, enfolding, and nurturing, ardent, restorative and strengthening. The power of her mind and her absolute humanity were all open and on display in those unfathomable eyes.

I put just one finger on her perfect cheek. Its healthy natural beauty glowed like a ripe orchard on a sunny fall day. I slid the little visitor past her narrow little nose to her wide sensuous mouth. Her lips were lightly colored with cosmetics, moist and full and at this stage of the exploration slightly parted. I touched her generous lips and she let out a very slight gasp, enfolded the tip of my finger with them and lightly touched her tongue to it.

Then she released it and my little traveler passed on over the exquisite point of her chin. I traced down over the solid ledge of her jaw to that perfectly muscled neck. It felt both soft and hard at the same time, smooth dusky and exposed. It was exceptionally hot to the touch as the blood pulsed through it. She let out a much louder gasp and then a long sigh, steadily holding my gaze from the depths of her soul. Her gaze was telling me about her unshakable fidelity to me.

My finger moved across her collar bones, which anchored the chiseled muscles of her dancer’s body, to caress her womanly shoulders. I felt the urge to kiss those vulnerable things, so small in proportion compared to the power of her hips. She was gasping her need, but the time was not quite right.

We turned and walked holding hands into the master bedroom. This was the place where her defilement had taken place. We were going to make new memories now. She silently unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it and her bra off. She unzipped her skirt and let it drop. She peeled her panties off as she slipped as gracefully as usual onto her side of the bed. 

I had undressed faster than she had. I was already lying on my side next to her on the bed. She was panting in anticipation. I traced her shoulders again, still looking into those intelligent and now slightly amused eyes. I moved up the swell of her left breast to the aureole. It had wrinkled to a much smaller area as her nipple hardened.  But it was still as expansive and brown-fertile as a newly turned field. The nipple itself stood there, proud and quivering, round and high as a solitary castle at the top of a great mountain. 

I circled my finger around it, wondering at its symmetry.  It grew redder and wider as her hot blood engorged it. This feature would require considerable special attention at a later time but the exploration wasn’t done yet.

The breast itself was heaving with increasing passion as I passed down the impossibly long slope from the nipple to her ribs, where the breast folded in to create a vast horizontal space like a long crack in a canyon wall.

My finger traced uphill along her rib cage, which rose rather than fell away from her breasts. My little traveler came to the highest point on her rib cage, where he encountered the deep drop off to the wide flat plain of her belly and hips.

It was a breathtaking vista, like coming to a cliff after a long journey and seeing an incredibly broad and fertile valley spread out below you. The hip bones stuck up far in the distance and framed the valley’s end. Her mons pubis stood out in the middle of that valley like a prominent distant hill. She had not started to show yet but there was another soul sleeping under that beautifully round and fruitful landscape. The reminder of what she was carrying there set off the most astonishing feeling of arousal that I have ever had.

My traveler lightly skipped down from the height of her rib cage across the smooth muscles of her stomach. The terrain that those muscles formed rippled wildly as my finger passed and little gasps and cries of sheer passion followed its progress.

It stopped to explore the deep crater of her belly button, eliciting a short and very profound gasp and loud moan as it did. There was a small golden artifact attached to the skin at the rim, perhaps placed there by some ancient civilization to mark a special place of devotion, I would return there myself to worship.

The traveler moved over the undulating swell of her lower belly and into the exceptionally broad and bountiful expanse directly between her hip bones. It began to climb her mons. As it climbed the solitary finger passed across a well maintained lawn, like you would see if you approached a grand estate.

On the other side of the crest of that little hill I encountered a hypnotically enchanting fissure. It was wide and deep, the folds were slightly brown reddish and they were unfolding like a flower in front of the traveler’s eyes begging to be explored. The female scent coming from that place was intoxicating in the extreme.

The agitated moans and cries urged the traveler to plunge into the fruitful space between. But there was still considerable rich abundance to be experienced before that could happen. So the traveler pressed on across her pubic bone to the considerable space at the juncture between her thighs and her hips.  The traveler had a decision to make, right, or left?

The traveler chose left. He traced down an extraordinarily full and well-muscled thigh.  The skin covering each of those highly defined muscles twitched violently as he passed, while she groaned in an agony of sensory overload.

Because the traveler was in no hurry the passage took some time. She gasped, cried and loudly panted during all of it, but she allowed the traveler to proceed. At the knee cap he traced around to the right bypassing the top of the knee and jumped over to the silky smooth skin of the shin of the other leg.

His change of pathways caused a yelp, a loud groan and a bucking of her hips. At that point the exploration included a short detour to trace the extraordinary bulge of the calf muscle. That exploration was complicated somewhat by the uncontrolled flexing of her powerful leg. The moans, gasps and pleadings became more frantic.

The traveler paused to examine the feet. Because of the dance training, these were real working appendages not delicate little attachments, very muscular and utilitarian, high arching and solid with neatly painted red nails at the end of the toes.

The toes themselves were tightly curled at the end of her feet, which were frantically pushing into the bed as she began to wildly gyrate her hips, back bowed in the grip of a powerful orgasm.


He came around the table and raised me to my feet. He gazed into my eyes. It was as if he wanted to merge his soul with mine. When he looked at me that way I knew that he could see the truth of my love for him in my most secret place. The longing and passion that I felt was flowing out of me in torrents.

I normally cannot look him in the eye when we he is gazing at me like that. That is because when he is in the process of loving me I am so totally lost in him, that I am afraid I will disappear entirely into the vast terrain of his penetrating eyes. But this was special so I quaveringly held his gaze.

He regarded me tenderly and placed a single broad finger on my cheek. I know it is a cliché but the only way to describe that touch was “electric”. He traced gently across my cheekbone, then down past my nose to my lips. He traced lightly along my upper lip and then moved down. I had already begun to pant so his finger slipped neatly between my lips. I gave it a faint kiss and touched it with my tongue.

That simple gesture aroused me more than any kind of oral stimulation I have ever given any man in my entire life. And I began to feel very hot and wet. However, he did not stop with my lips. His finger continued its feathery trace down and under my chin and onto my neck.

He shifted his glance to follow his finger and released from the thrall of his eyes. I closed mine, or maybe they just rolled up in my head. I began to experience his light touch on my neck. I felt a series of incredibly hot flashes pass through my pussy like lightning strikes.

The little lady in my head said dryly. “If this is the way you’re reacting when he touches you in your kitchen, imagine what it is going to feel like when he gets you some place a little more convenient.” All I could think of was how much I needed to merge with him.

I broke the embrace and took him by the hand. I led him to the malign place where I had been despoiled two days earlier. I couldn’t remember a second of that event. But I was going to completely overwrite any vestige of it in my memory by means of an epic fucking of this man.

I flew out of my clothes and lay down on the bed in the approximate place where it must have happened. He undressed even faster and was lying propped up on one arm as I snuggled against him. 

He moved over my collar bone still tracing with his one finger, across my shoulders and down my breast to my nipple. It was so painfully tight and hard I was afraid it would fall off. I expected him to start tweaking or sucking on it, like all other men I have made love to would have done. But instead he just traced a circle around the aureole.

I sincerely thought that I would lose my mind at that point and I felt the juices just leaking out of me. My need to have him inside was getting to code red status fast and he had to be aware of that fact, but he refused to stop and I didn’t try to stop him.

He continued to trail one finger down my breast to where it folds over on my rib cage and then down my ribs to my belly where he hesitated. No doubt he was taking in the scenery down there. Then he traced down my stomach to my belly button and dipped his finger into it.

That was the most intimate thing anybody has ever done to me. I would have totally lost it if he had remained in there for about a millisecond longer. But he abruptly continued down across my belly to the folds of my pussy.

I was loudly moaning and gasping and begging him to put his finger, or tongue, or anything in it. But apparently torture was on the menu today.  He continued down the top of my thigh. Every muscle he touched contracted like he had tasered it. The sheer physical sensation of each touch was driving me nuts. Added to that was the fact that I had been building a pent up need for sexual release from the time that he had first caressed my cheek.

So each time he touched a new muscle I felt like I was going to light up in an orgasm to end all orgasms. When he reached my kneecap I was begging him in in very explicit language to fuck me. I was also telling him in no uncertain terms what would happen to him if he did not get immediately to that task.

Instead he started tracing the length of my other shin. At that stage I was holding myself in a rigid bow, with just the crown of my shoulders and my heels touching the ground. My insides were churning like the Atlantic in the middle of particularly violent hurricane and I was about to come in ways that cannot be expressed in human language.

I estimated that the energy driving my first orgasm was roughly equivalent to that of the super black hole at the center of our galaxy.  I could feel it coming from miles away and as it began to build my little voice was sitting up there fanning herself saying, “Whew boy! This is going to be a BIG ONE!!!”

When it hit, it felt like I was dematerializing. I have no rational memories of what happened for the next couple of minutes. But when I finally got my brain restarted I was absolutely mortified. I was thinking to myself, “You selfish little bitch! You just came so hard your back teeth melted out and he never even got inside you!!!”

I couldn’t even bring myself to open my eyes to see how much I had disappointed him. When I finally got the courage to cringingly look at him he was looking at me with absolute veneration. My little voice was rapidly fanning herself, while saying, “If I live forever I will never understand men”.


She came back to me very slowly. She had convulsed herself into a perfect arc with just her radically pointed feet and the very tops of her shoulders touching the bed. Bucked wildly in that pose for almost thirty seconds and then just held it quivering like a taught bowstring for another minute, moaning loudly and rhythmically during all of that time. Only a body as strong as Janet’s could have endured the stresses that position must have imposed.

When she relaxed herself back on the bed she lay there like she was dead for another minute or so and then finally popped one eye open quizzically. I have known a lot of women in my life but I have never seen an exhibition of sexuality like I had just witnessed.

I didn’t even want to fuck her now, just worship her.

There is something at the base of all men’s lizard brains that knows that the survival of the species depends on female sexuality. It is probably the reason why the religions of ALL primitive societies are built around female goddesses. Now, without any man inside her, Janet had just proven exactly how profoundly and powerfully fundamental her sexuality was.

I am sure that if she had done that in front of our aboriginal ancestors they would have run out and chiseled up a Janet idol. Since I was the only male present, all I could do was gaze on her with total dumbstruck awe and think, “This incredible woman is mine? What unbelievable good fortune!”


I didn’t care what Tom wanted at that point. I knew I had to have him inside me immediately, or I was going to die. Without a word I reached over shoved him violently flat on his back and grabbed his throbbing erection. Ten seconds later I was grinding on him like a madwoman. I knew by the way the contractions were coming that this was going to be a short but very intense experience

Rather than put out any fires the existential orgasm I had just had had touched off a new inferno what would have made the great Chicago Fire seem like something you would have in your fireplace on a cold winter’s eve.

I was sitting astride Tom with his pole touching my cervix. I was rotating the head inside me in little 360 degree arcs.  I was making sharp little cries and panting like I was in heat; which I guess I was. Then the growling started.

I don’t know where those came from but I was making animal “HRRRGH, HUUNGGH, HRRGH!” noises while building to a peak that I had never even imagined existed.

He seemed to be as out of it as I was but frankly I wasn’t paying attention to anything but managing an approaching orgasm that could only be described as “nuclear”. The little lady in my head was strapping on her crash helmet saying, “I hope this doesn’t kill us dearie”.  Then the world exploded. The circuit breakers tripped and I passed out colder than a mackerel on his chest.

My last conscious perception was of Tom shooting boiling hot sperm into me so hard that if felt like the atmospheric pressure inside poor puss-puss changed. I came-to a few seconds later.  My first conscious sensation was the feeling of my autonomic contractions still milking him like a crazed Iowa farmhand. My little voice was musing to herself, “Interesting, so you can be unconscious and still come like the midnight express?”


Janet was lying on my chest with her huge bare tits squashed between us. She had not moved for several seconds but her insides were extremely busy. I was trying to get conscious functioning back on line. It took a while.

Every time I think she can’t fuck me any more completely, she goes out and sets another record. She finally pushed herself into a sitting position, still astride me and with me only slightly softer, still buried deep inside her. She looked down at me and said with an impish grin, “WHEW!” I said “WHEW!”

She said with that beloved ironic smile on her face, “So am I to assume that this means we are back together?”



I stepped away from her side, as I handed her over to another man. He was looking at her with undisguised adoration. That look was gratifying. She was ravishing, dressed all in white with her beautiful face perfectly made up and her long auburn hair hanging down the back of the gown.

I had loved her without restraint for the past twenty-four years and there was a little twinge in my soul watching her walk out of my life. But I knew that this was just a different stage, not an ending.

She turned toward me momentarily and gave me her mother’s little wink. It said, “Thanks for loving me. Thanks for all of the soccer games and dance recitals. Thanks for teaching me to camp and fish and fight for myself in a man’s world. Thanks for being there no matter what.” It distilled the joy of my life into one single glance.

I moved carefully out of the aisle, to stand next to the most beautiful woman in the world.  We exchanged the kind of loving glances that only a couple that had been married for 41 years can engender. I looked at my staunch and faithful soul mate. She was in her sixties now and still as beautiful as the moment I met her.

It has been a long and wonderful 24 years since the events that I have portrayed here. And every one of those years has been a lifetime of happiness watching my beautiful little girl grow into a woman.

She is so much like me that I have never really wondered whose child she is. And I am forever grateful to her mother for giving her to me. I am past seventy now and the cold winds of the approaching winter are beginning to blow around me.

But we have each other. And before I call it a life there is still more of the world to see with my beautiful and loving wife. In the end it simply comes down to the question of what you want and I never had any doubts about who I wanted. I wanted nobody but her. I am utterly ready now, to play whatever last hand I am dealt.


© Copyright 2019 DT Iverson. All rights reserved.


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