[Author's Note: This is a continuation to Just Plain Bob's invitation, to his story "What to Do about Edie". Thanks for JPB for posting his story and inviting responses.]
Actually, it turned out that figuring out what to do about Edie was the easy part. I loved her—I loved her more than I'd ever loved anyone, in fact—but I wasn't going to stick around and be her happy cuckold of a husband. Thinking about what I'd seen her do made me want to throw up. In fact I had to pull the truck over to the side of the road at one point, because I was afraid I really WOULD throw up.
I thought about how turned-on I'd gotten watching her fuck the shit out of those two guys—didn't that mean I liked it? Didn't that mean I was OK with it? And I realized the answer was No. Watching people have sex can be a turn-on, and Edie in a three-way with two men, with her fantastic body and her amazing enthusiasm, was a huge turn-on. I reacted pretty much like any other red-blooded heterosexual man would do.
But that didn't mean I didn't hate it—and Edie. I had been the best, most loving, and completely faithful husband I could be. I'd tried in every way I could to satisfy and please her, both in bed and out. And here she was, not only stepping out on me, but apparently taking every possible opportunity to bang any man who came within range. From the sound of her phone conversation with Bonnie, the two of them were doing some pretty regular group scenes.
So one part of my situation was easy: I was out of there. But I needed to decide how to manage it, and I needed to think hard about my so-called friends—Harry, Marvin and Joe.
I took care of Joe first, because he was the easiest. He and I and a couple of other guys played golf about every other Sunday. It was a relaxed, friendly game, with some small bets and some beer-drinking and bragging at the end.
The next week I waited until the 17th tee—no sense in ruining a good round of golf!—and then I took care of Joe. Very casually, as I took out my driver, I saw from Joe's shadow just where he was standing behind me. As I took a "practice swing" I twisted my body slightly, just enough that my backswing came up and the head of the club nearly took Joe's head off. There was a sickening "crack" and he collapsed to the ground, blood pouring out of his mouth.
Well, that ended the game, of course. I acted horrified, while the other two guys truly were horrified. We called an ambulance and went to the ER with him. His wife Amy was called, and when she arrived I apologized to her over and over. (Joe was unconscious in the operating room while they tried to put his jaw back together.) The other guys backed me up—it was just a terrible accident. I truly enjoyed playing the role of the devastated friend, overcome with sorrow and guilt.
Even more fun were the visits I paid to Joe's bedside for the next five days, until they finally sent him home. I played the guilt-stricken friend to the hilt, but when he thought I wasn't looking he would gaze at me, an uncertain look in his eye. I knew he was wondering whether I knew about him and Edie, and whether that backswing was really an accident—and I just let him go on wondering.
When I came home from the hospital that Saturday and told Edie about poor Joe, I don't think it occurred to her that it could have been anything but accidental. She had absolutely no reason to suspect that I knew she was a complete slut. I had been playing the loving husband, and our sex-life had continued unchanged since the day I watched her with the realtor and his buddy.
In some ways it had even gotten better. My love for her was pretty much destroyed by the pain and anger I felt, but my lust for her was unabated. And I found that fucking her like a whore—especially with the images of that three-way still in my mind—was even more fun than making love to her like a caring husband.
She asked me once, after a particularly vigorous fuck, what had gotten into me lately. I just smiled, and told her a made-up story I had ready for the occasion.
"A couple of weeks ago Archie at work showed me a picture of a naked pornstar he found on the Internet. He was going on and on about how hot she was, and I realized that she didn't look nearly as sexy as you do. I've been thinking about it ever since."
Needless to say, she was perfectly happy with that answer.
My revenge on Marvin was quite different. Getting even with him required ruining his wife's life at the same time, and I never would have done what I did had his wife not been such a loathsome bitch, but that's just what she was. Alice was short-tempered, bigoted, and ungenerous. Virtually nobody liked her; people just put up with her because they liked Marvin.
About two weeks after the golf club accident, some friends had a big Saturday night party. Edie and I were there, and so were Marvin and Alice. The party got pretty wild, with lots of drinking and dancing and a fair amount of discreet groping in dark corners. I took particular notice of Alice's dress, which was red with gold trim and kind of low-cut in front.
The following Tuesday I took an hour off work in the middle of the day and drove to Alice and Marvin's house. As I expected Alice was home, and I gave her some bullshit about a surprise party I wanted to plan for Edie, just to get her talking. We had some coffee, and after twenty minutes or so I excused myself and went upstairs to use their bathroom.
I'd been in the house many times, so within seconds I found Alice's dress from the party in their bedroom closet. Taking it quickly into the bathroom and locking the door, I proceeded to jerk myself off, letting a few drops of cum drip onto the front of the dress. (You might think that would have been tough—but all I had to do was think about Edie at the neighbor's pool to get myself up and at it.)
I carefully put the dress back in the closet where it had been and headed downstairs again. After another few minutes of meaningless chatter with Alice, I drove back to work.
The next day I created a yahoo account with the screen name "WordToTheWise" and sent a message to Marvin. It was a short one:
"Your wife has been screwing around on you. I fucked her at the Thompsons' party, and I wasn't the only one.
"If you don't believe me, check the front of her dress. She gave me a blowjob in the bathroom, and when I came some of it leaked out of her mouth and dripped on the dress.
"Just thought you'd like to know—A Friend"
Now I knew old Marvin pretty well, and he was one of the most jealous guys around. Never mind that he'd been dipping his wick into Edie—even the mere thought of Alice with somebody else could get him going. So I wasn't too surprised by what Edie told me over dinner about three nights later.
"I spoke to Hannah today, and she told me that Marvin and Alice are divorcing."
"Really?" I said, trying to look surprised. "What on earth for?"
"Apparently Marvin is convinced Alice cheated on him at the Thompsons' party. He found a stain on her dress that he insists is another man's, uh, semen, but Alice swears up and down that she hasn't let another man touch her since their wedding."
Looking thoughtful, I said, "that's a shame. Not that I ever cared for Alice all that much, but still...
"Actually, I find it hard to believe she cheated on Marvin. It was obvious she loved him, and what kind of woman who loved her husband would hop in bed with another man behind his back?"
I looked innocently at Edie while making this little speech, and enjoyed the sight of her avoiding my eyes. She did manage to lie to me, though.
"I was thinking the same thing, baby. It seems much more likely to me that Marvin is wrong, somehow."
That wasn't the end of me and Marvin, however. I had more in mind for him, though it had to wait several months. He filed for divorce, Alice got a real shark for a lawyer, and it got very ugly. Legal documents back and forth, fights about money, name-calling, the works.
I saw Marvin once during that time, at a bar. He looked terrible, and was working on what appeared to be his fifth or sixth drink. I commiserated with him, but he was too drunk even to focus on me, let alone judge my sincerity.
About a year after the divorce—and long after my life with Edie had come to an end—I got back in touch with Marvin. He'd moved to the West coast, but I got his new work email and sent him another message from "WordToTheWise":
"Dear Marvin: Remember that message I sent you, where I said some other guys and I had fucked your wife? I'll bet you do!
"Well, old friend, I was just kidding you. I sneaked into your house one day and put the cum on Alice's dress. Sorry about that! I guess the whole nasty divorce was for nothing...
"Why on earth would I do such a horrible thing to you? See if you can figure it out. Cheers!"
Harry took a little longer—but it was worth it. He was a salesman for a high-end home security firm, and never went anywhere without a briefcase full of demo equipment. He worked hard, and had been the top seller in his company for several months in a row. He used to brag that when he'd been Number 1 for a whole year, the company would send him and his wife to Hawaii for two weeks.
I had a good friend from college who was in the same business in another state, so I called him, told him the circumstances, and asked him for a big favor. He listened and said he'd call me back.
When Rob called the next day, it was to say, "listen, I know how to handle this cocksucker. Get me a list of his last dozen important sales, with names, addresses, and phone numbers, and I'll take care of the rest. I've arranged to take a couple of personal days off next week."
It turns out that everything these days is done via computer, including security systems, and my buddy Rob is a first-rate hacker. He has to be: he protects the clients in his company from other hackers trying to get in.
In just a few hours, working from a throwaway cell phone and an anonymous rented computer logged onto a downtown wireless network, Rob hacked into nine of Harry's last fifteen important accounts and planted some deadly bugs. Then he threw the phone away, wiped the computer's hard drive and returned it, and went back to work.
I thanked Rob, sent him a case of his favorite beer and sat back to wait for the fun to start. Within three weeks, seven of the security systems were displaying major problems: multiple false-alarms, alarms that failed to go off when tested, even one case where a sprinkler system went off and soaked a $2 million dollar server. Harry's company scrambled to deal with the problems, but the loss of customer confidence was fatal.
Word of mouth works both for good service and bad, and within a month Harry was at the bottom of his company's sales list. Anyone paying attention could notice that it was only his accounts that were having problems. Whether they thought he was actually sabotaging the systems himself I'll never know; but within six months Harry had lost his job and was working at an Applebee's while trying to find something better. The poor guy! I felt just awful for him...
Which left Edie. All this had taken several months—months which I spent pretending everything was normal, hiding my rage and my hurt from her, and planning how to end my marriage. A simple dissolution wasn't good enough—this situation called for a major blow-out.
Part one of the plan was to arrange a surprise party for my lovely wife. Her 30th birthday was months away, but I set things up with my parents, her parents, and both of her brothers and their wives. I told them that I would never be able to surprise Edie near her actual birthday, so I was having the party a few months ahead, and in the middle of the week.
They all planned to fly into town the same week. On the chosen Tuesday afternoon at 2pm, I met them quietly at our front door and sneaked them inside. Smiling conspiratorially, I told them Edie was taking a nap. I led them silently up the stairs to the bedroom, where I threw open the door and cried, "Surprise!"
And what did we see? Well, that involved the other part of my plan.
It had not been hard to find out that "Dan the realtor" was named Dan McKnight, and that he was happily married to a Marjorie McKnight, with whom he had four children.
A couple of weeks after seeing him and his client fuck the ass off Edie, I strolled into his office for a private conversation—one he initially thought was going to be about real estate. I cleared up that misconception right away.
"Mr. McKnight, I'm Jerry Donovan, the husband of Edie Donovan whom you and your client Jim gang-fucked in my bedroom recently."
His shock was absolute. His face sagged and the air rushed out of him. He went completely white, and I thought he might actually faint.
After a long moment he stammered, "I... I have no... idea what you're..."
Watching my face, he must have concluded it was hopeless, because he didn't even bother to finish the sentence. I went on.
"Mr. McKnight, your career and your marriage are now in my hands. I have a lovely set of pictures from that afternoon [this was a total lie, but I didn't think he'd challenge me], and unless you do absolutely everything I ask you to do I am going to make you an ex-realtor and an ex-husband. With any luck I can put you in jail as well."
Then I just sat, for perhaps five minutes, and watched him digest it all. The range of feelings that played over his face was fascinating to watch, and I was in no hurry. I could see the cogs turning, see him examining the problem from every angle, looking desperately for a way out of it.
At one point he asked me, "are you and your wife blackmailing me? Was this a setup?"
"No—she doesn't know that I know anything about it. And it's going to stay that way, or you're dead meat."
He thought some more, and finally I could see that he'd reached the end of the line. He wiped his sweaty forehead on his shirtsleeve and said, slowly, "what do you want me to do?"
"How many times have you been back there to fuck her since the first time?"
For a minute he considered lying to me—I could see it in his face. Then he sighed and said, "three. Once with the same client, and twice with a divorced guy who works here in the office, a buddy of mine."