Chapter One - "The Mistress Of Pain"
"Pick up your leg damn it!" my wife Vicky told me; then added, "You want to be a cripple all your life Todd?" She was "helping" me with the exercises my physical therapist had assigned me to do at home as part of my recovery. That is if that's what you can call the abuse she was sending my way.
The swelling in my knees was gone, they were still sore and it was painful to use them. My wife, who had recently turned into the "Mistress Of Pain", didn't seem to care about my discomfort.
It had been my displeasure three months ago to have one of those freak accidents you only hear about in urban myths.
We had just arrived at the grocery store to do some shopping; it was one of the few things we still did together. As Vicky got out of the car and headed to the store, I suddenly became mesmerized by the jiggling motion her very attractive ass was making with every step she took. Normally, I would not have been distracted by her dainty derrière. Don't get me wrong, I am human as the next guy; but after a while, a guy tends to ignore things he should appreciate most of all.
Vicky had been going out of her way to dress like "Daisy Duke". It was all part of her way of getting back at me, but I will get to that in a moment. After three months of living in sexual seclusion, seeing the way her ass wiggled reminded me of the things I had taken for granted. First, there was her well kept, 36 24 34, figure, and then there was her long raven like natural red hair. Of course, let me not forget her beautiful green eyes and near perfect alabaster white skin.
Needless to say, I was a tad distracted by my wife's bouncing beautiful bottom when the curb decided to reach up and viciously assault my knee.
The orthopedic specialist I saw said I was lucky that I didn't break it. I had come very close and was told to say off of my knee for three months. I was beginning to hate the fucking couch I was now exiled to and I couldn't wait to get back on my feet.
Let me explain to you how I found myself in such a pitiful state.
Chapter Two - "The Phone Call"
We live in a cottage style farmhouse in the country. The property came with such amenities as a barn, a below ground pool, and auto fuel, diesel fuel and LP gas storage tanks. The former owners had just finished a complete renovation of the place when Vicky and I bought it.
It seems that after spending quite a sum fixing up their love nest, they decided they couldn't stand each other, that they should get divorced, sell the house as quickly as possible and go their separate ways. And so, we picked the property up for a song.
The nearest small town is about thirty miles away. It's a "one horse" town consisting of a town square, the worlds smallest hospital, one gas station/general store/drug store and has two main roads and two small subdivisions. That is if you can call the trailer park a subdivision. Did I say it was small? The nearest "Big City" is seventy miles farther away.
Well, about seven months ago, I think it was the last week of May, Vicky decided to take a part-time weekend job in the "Big City" to make some extra spending money for herself. I had no problem with her taking the job because even though I made enough money buying and selling on eBay full time, sometimes things get a little tight financially and we have to do without some of the conveniences life has to offer.
The job was a commission-based telemarketing position; she is very good at telemarketing, so it was going to be worth the trip. We both agreed that in order for it to work she would have to drive to the city on Friday afternoon, spend the weekend with Sandy, an old girlfriend, and drive back on Monday morning.
The problem all started during her forth trip to the "Big City". I have never been a loner, and I was beginning to miss her more each time she left so at about 8:00 that Sunday night I decided to call her at Sandy's apartment.
When I did Jerry, Sandy's boyfriend, answered the phone, "Hi" I said to him, "This is Todd, is Vicky back yet?"
"Sorry buddy, you just missed her. They just left for the club." He replied.
Well, she was working hard, why shouldn't she have a little fun, I thought and then told him, "Well, thanks. When she gets back from partying, tell her I called."
"Partying, you got it wrong buddy, they work at the club! Didn't she tell you?" he informed me.
I tried to play dumb and lied, "Yeah, I must have forgotten."
I was shocked and tried not to show surprise in my voice when I asked, "Hey, I keep forgetting the name of the place, what is it again?"
"The Hot House, over on 17th Street." he said. I knew about the place; it was the largest strip club in the city and had been shut down a few years back when it was discovered that some of the girl's lap-dances were a little more "touchy-feely" then they were supposed to be when large hundred dollar bills were tipped. It had been nick-named "The Whore House" by the local police department.
Anyway, then he offered, "Want me to have her call you when she comes in?
"Nah, I'll talk to her when she gets home. Thanks a lot pal." I said and hung up the phone.
I didn't sleep well that night. I had a nightmare in which my wife peeled out of a gee-string to the tune of "Money" by Pink Floyd and sat on a naked Fabio's lap. In my dream, he had a hundred dollar bill tattooed around the top of his dick and was saying to her in that European accent of his, "Dance for Fabio Baby, dance!" Luckily, I woke up just as she was about to take his money.
It was about 4:00 in the afternoon when I heard the car pull up and its door open and close. That was followed by the sound of keys opening the front door to the house.
When Vicky walked in the door, the "Green-Eyed-Monster" having nibbled the night before had just taken a great big bite out of my ass. Words like "Trust", "Loyalty", and "Commitment" were the farthest things from my mind when I asked her, "So how are things at the Club Honey?"
Her bags still in hand, she stood in shock a couple of seconds before saying, "When did you find out?"
"Last night; Jerry told me." I told her.
She started to say, "I can explain..." but I interrupted her.
"Explain what? That you've been working at the most notorious titty bar within a 150 mile radius for almost a month now?" I snapped. "Or are you going to explain why you decided not to tell me? When exactly were you going to tell me anyway, or were you ever?"
I was well past reason when she said, "I wanted to surprise you, Todd!"
"You thought working at the "Hot House" and not telling me was the way to do it?" I said. At that point it was pretty much a one-way conversation because I sure wasn't listening to her when I said, "What happened to the telemarketing job?"
She tried to explain, "I quit it when Sandy told me about the job at the club. The money is much better at the club and the boss doesn't hit on me as much."
But I hadn't heard that last part either. I really wasn't hearing anything but the sound of my own enraged voice. It wasn't until later after I had replayed the whole conversation in my mind that I recalled what she said about her boss hitting on her. I became angry at myself for not paying attention at the time she had said it.
"Why? You said you were good at it?" I asked but no answer was going to placate me.
Still trying to communicate with me she said, "The money was much better at the club, Todd."
"I'll bet it was! How much better?" I said as the "Green-Eyed-Monster" took another bite.
She took an envelope from her purse and handed it to me. I opened it up and examined it. There must have been at least eight thousand dollars in it.
"You earned all this working at the club?" I said in disbelief?
She nodded yes.
"Just what DID you do at the club to make this much money?" I said as that damn mental picture of Fabio and his hundred-dollar bill popped back into my mind.
She pleaded, "It wasn't like that Todd! All I did was serve drinks!"
Somewhere in my unconscious mind I must have been thinking, "Well, Hell! I'm acting pretty stupid now aren't I? I'm really on a roll. I wonder if I can make it any worse? Let's find out shall we?" for the next thing I said was, "You don't really expect me to believe you made all this money and all you did is sell drinks?"
Her response was to go to our bedroom and lock the door.
For the next three months, I was living with the Ice Queen and I was beginning to get frostbite. After the accident, the Ice Queen's sister the Mistress Of Pain moved in with her for she seemed totally devoid of compassion at my plight.
I realized what she had been planning to do with the money later I when if found a confirmation email from a travel agency on my laptop. It was confirming our reservations for a Honeymoon Trip to Hawaii.
Which brings us back to the question of how I found myself in such a pitiful state in the first place? Well, the answer is Stupidity! That's how! My own stubborn, irrational stupidity! Because if it weren't for my own stupidity, I wouldn't have found myself exiled to the couch for six months, nursing a wounded knee, being horny as hell, and having one severely pissed off wife.
And to make matters worse, every time I tried to apologize she would just walk away without even saying a word!
.... There is more of this story ...