Carol Caldwell slid into the booth next to the man. It was difficult to make out who he was, but it was definitely someone she knew. The spit swapping that was taking place was proof of that. What it definitely was not, was me doing the kissing. Who am I? I'm her husband, and I am watching them from across the darkened barroom seated in a booth cattycorner to theirs. I wanted to vomit.
I was supposed to be out of town till Sunday next, seven days hence, but I had gotten a headsup from a female friend, who works with my wife, that she, my wife, was not who or what I thought she was. So, I'd cancelled my trip to San Francisco and set myself up to follow her and find out for myself. Geezsus! I thought to myself, as I watched them, 18 years of marital bliss and fucked over by some asshole and my very own wife, make that my very own slut wife! I was angry, sick, heartbroken, and viscerally determined to not sit still for this kind of treachery. I would come out the winner here—fucking-A I would!
Still in the back of my mind I knew I was going to have a hard time screwing her over. I'd slept with her, worked with her, put Christmas trees up with her, smelled her for two decades; the psychological and emotional investment in her was enormous. I had to find out the why this was happening. I had to see if there was some way, any way, that I could salvage our marriage.
Here I was on the verge of divorce—probably. No amount of wishful thinking on my part was going to change that. The reality was, that even if I were to want to save the marriage, I had no idea what she would do or want. I felt sick.
I got up and headed for the men's room; I did vomit thank gawd, at least now I wouldn't do it in the fucking car. As sick as my stomach was, though, my heart was sicker. There's nothing as hurtful in the relationships of men as the betrayal of trust by a spouse—nothing!
I had been married to Carol for near twenty years—eighteen is close enough: I was fifty-two and she was forty-nine. We had both been married before, but neither of those marriages had produced any children. Our girls, Jenny and Marie, had come to us near the end of our first year of marriage. They'd been a bit of a surprise, but a lovely one. The girls, I knew, had been our anchor, and we, Carol and I, adored them. Because of them and for any of a dozen other reasons, it had been my apparently erroneous conviction that "our" marriage was one of the good statistics. Well, it looked like that, in the final analysis, was not to be the case, at least not for much longer.
Returning from the head, I passed by right next to their table, I mean within three feet of them for chrissakes. I looked straight at them as I passed, virtually daring them to see me, but they didn't recognize me, engrossed as they were with each other. I, at that point, didn't give a damn one way or the other. I did get a good look at the man though; it was Julius Weathers, her boss at the insurance firm she worked for: good 'ole JW, as she usually referred to him.
Outside, in the parking lot, I took a deep breath. My Okinawan martial arts training worked for me now: the deep, controlled breathing. Breathing is integral to the martial arts; it is from the center of our being that the ki our inner power and serenity of mind proceeds. Proper breathing allows the individual to tap into this power this serenity. I know that sounds very unscientific, but it works: I felt a ton better.
I guess it's time I said something about myself. I'm five-six. I used to be five-seven, but somewhere along the way I lost an inch and I don't know why. I weigh in at about 160, and most of that is steel hard muscle. My feet have slowed some over the years, okay a lot; but not my hands. Just two things are faster than my hands, one of them is light the other scientists haven't come up with a name for yet. As for my face, well it's kind of messed up, but Carol always said I looked rugged; Till now I had cheerfully accepted her version of the facts.
I had taken up martial arts to stay in shape after my boxing career ended twenty years back. Carol knew I'd been a boxer before we met, but had never shown any interest in hearing about it apart from the simple fact that it was true. Since I had quit the ring more than two years before we met, it never came up in conversation.
As a prize fighter my record had not been sterling: 9-4-2. Two of those loses, though, had been against ranked opponents; I was the guy they came to for their tune ups. I had been a natural welterweight, but the tune ups had been against lightweights; both of the ranked guys had damn near killed me, but I had not gone down in either fight, and that had been my goal, just to go the distance and stay upright; I'd done that. Now, at my age, I am the inevitable middleweight; well, whaddya gonna do, I'm older now. I am; nevertheless and as I said, in pretty damn good shape. At the moment, I was thinking of how many ways I could take my aggressions out on Mr. Weathers. The man was at least six-two and maybe 240, so that would make the fight fair, right?
As for what I do now to earn a living, I'm a logistics engineer for a freight line—trucks not boats or trains. It's my job to see to it that materials and cargo get to where they are going as fast as possible and at as little cost and loss of product as possible. The job pays well, six figures, and the bonuses can be substantial. It wasn't money that was luring my wife into Mr. Weather's arms; I knew I made more than him; it had to be something else, maybe the size of his cock. My five-incher had always been an embarrassment to me, but what is, is, as you might say. Carol always said it was enough for her regardless; I wanted to believe her.
I had a thought; I pulled out my cell. It was a camera as well as a phone, and it had a two-power zoom. I was going to get some pictures if I could. I was no private-eye, but it seemed pretty straight forward to me. Get 'em coming out, get 'em wherever it was they finally ended up going, and then wait and confront her first and him later: the whore and the asshole in that order.
I'm not sure when it came to me, but at some point in all of this, I made the conscious decision to be cold and efficient rather than emotional and belligerent. I needed to gather evidence; I realized that I was going to need proof of her infidelity when I divorced her, if I did. In fact I had also decided that I was going to do my level best to ruin her asshole lover in the process, and that whether or not I did. I began planning at that very moment. The only sticky part in my conversation with myself was how I was going to deal with the issue of telling our twin teenage daughters, Jenny and Marie, why I was leaving their mother. I did not relish that little ditty.
I slipped back into the bar, doing my best to not be noticed. I got close enough to get a couple of pics, albeit in bad light, of the two of them playing around. I got out of there as soon as I had accomplished that goal. I knew I'd have to have the photos enhanced, since I didn't use the flash, but I knew that Ronnie could do that job for me as soon as I could get hold of him. Ronnie was an old friend, the geek of computer geeks. The techno stuff had not been invented that he couldn't manipulate like a thirteenth Olympian deity.
The parking lot was a bit lighter than the bar, and she had parked near the entrance right under a light standard; it was bright as day. I could get pics of them when they came out for sure.
It was maybe 45 minutes later that I saw Carol and Julius Caesar coming out of the bar. They stopped in the shadows and shared a lingering kiss. From behind a dumpster, twenty feet away, I was able to get a shot of it, and reviewing it immediately I was gratified to see that I had gotten a good clear picture: both of their faces were recognizable.
They held hands as they went to their respective cars; his was parked next to hers as it turned out—how fucking convenient, I thought.
I wasn't actually due home for six more days, so I got myself a motel room less than two miles from our house. I settled in and tried to figure out what my next move would be. I needed the answers to a bunch of questions. Why had she decided to fuck around on me? Was she planning to divorce me? She and the asshole obviously were not new at this, but how long had it actually been going on? Was she doing other men? I doubted this last. Their kiss told me that there was something more there than just sex; it looked like they were in love.
Okay, I said to myself, what to do? I could hire an investigator; I could afford it. Or, I could continue to do the sleuthing myself. I wasn't stupid, but I was inexperienced. A PI would have equipment and other stuff to stick it to the two cheaters. Also, there was the fact that Mr. Weathers was married with five children; and, if I had understood the things that my wife had told me about him, his wife was the one with all of the money in the family, and that fact was most interesting.
I knew that Carol would be at work the next day until 4:30PM. I had time to get my act together, but not too much time.
By morning I had decided on a PI. The yellow pages were my next stop. I chose one that claimed to have been in service in the area for the past seventeen years, nothing like experience. I made the appointment for that same morning.
I sat across from Mr. Carr a man in his middle fifties. There was actually a cigar in the ashtray in front of him, and his shabby office looked like something right out a Dashell Hammet novel. I thought, this guy only needed a trench coat to give Bogie a run for his money.
"And that's it then?" said Mr. Carr.
"Yeah, pretty much. I just got in yesterday and caught them last night. There is definitely something going on, and I need the proof.
"So whaddya think? Can you do it?" I said.
"Sure, no problem," he said. "With what you've given me, the pics and the rest, it'll be easy. It'd be easy for you too if you wanted to do it yourself."
"I'm just afraid I'd screw up, you know, maybe give the guy a size eight suppository and get my ass thrown in jail. I don't want to give either of 'em the satisfaction of seeing me behind bars."
"So that is indeed it then. We'll be on the job immediately. I will be planting the devices in the house today while she's at work," said Mr. Carr.
"Good," I said. We shook hands, and I went back to my motel room to wait and consider what exactly I was going to do with my wife. I had made up my mind not to do too much until I got the report from the PI. If he confirmed what I already knew to be fact, then I had just about decided come down on her with both feet. I wanted custody, the house, as much of our money as I could squeeze out of an overly forgiving court system, and I wanted revenge. She could have the asshole, and I just couldn't wait until life with him lost its new car smell and she realized what it was she'd lost. Well anyway, that's what I hoped would happen.
Mr. Carr had made it clear that I was to stay clear of the both of them for the duration, the duration being the entire week if necessary. But, that did not mean I could not call the traitor. I always called her every day I was out of town. It would have raised her suspicions if I did not call her.
The phone rang in her office. She answered it. "Hi ... yeah it's me ... it's fine here ... uh-huh ... me too but we'll be together this weekend unless something untoward happens ... okay so whaddya going do to not be bored ... sounds good Emily is a fun gal ... oh okay ... okay didn't mean to interrupt your meeting with JW ... yeah me too ... give JW my apologies for interrupting the meeting." I hung up.
I had actually caught them in a meeting of some kind. Well, it was a business establishment after all; it might even have been legit. Still, images of her bent over her desk getting banged from the rear crowded out all others in my mind. Her voice had betrayed nothing. Well, why should it have, I was in San Francisco a thousand miles away from Lincoln as far as she was concerned. I could just imagine the two of them smirking at my timing. The thought pissed me off.
Carol had noticed a guy watching them from across the barroom, but it was too dark to see who. Who cared anyway, she thought, she was having fun with her man. She was feeling a little bit guilty though. Marvin was away and she intended to be with her Julius even if it was technically cheating. But it was only a technical thing, she told herself. Marvin would suffer not at all for her doing it, at least not while they were still married; she'd treat him good right up to the end. She was planning on divorcing him as soon as the girls turned eighteen in a few months, and then he'd be free to find someone he could be happy with; she really did wish that for him. For herself, she was in love again just not with her husband. Not since high school had she felt about a boy or man like she did about Julius.
True Julius could not provide the kind of living that Marvin had provided for her, but she'd get enough from the divorce settlement to make up a lot of the difference. Still, she had to be careful; this was not a "no fault" state. If caught in adultery she could be lost financially; hence, she never did anything with Julius unless her husband was out of town. What he didn't know would hurt no one, she reasoned.
She did feel some regret, for what she planned to do to her husband; he had been a good man in all respects except for two things; one, he was lousy in bed. And, his skinny little weenie no longer satisfied her, not since she'd experienced Julius' very thick seven-and-a-half inches. And two, Marvin was boring!
"Let's get out of here, Carol. I need to get you naked," said Julius.
She smiled at him. "Happy to oblige," she said rising. He threw a bill on the table and they left. Once outside the door, he drew her to him and they kissed in the shadowy light of the bistro.
They strolled arm-in-arm the few yards to their cars. "My house," she said. "We've got that meeting in the morning, and I am going to have to limit you tonight. Unlike you I have to be in early for the set up."
"I know," he laughed, "I'm the boss, remember!" They laughed.
They drove off not noticing the man half hidden in the darkness near the dumpster.
Carol parked her car in the driveway and went in to the house. She turned on the porch light for her lover and left the door ajar.
Carol had given the girls permission to sleep over at Miranda's, and that had fit in well with her plans for the evening. She and Julius could do the bedroom mambo and she could then run him off early enough to get the rest she knew she was going to need.
"Jen, who is that parking in front of the neighbor's house?" said Marie.
"How do I know—wait—that's mom's boss, that Julius guy," said Jenny, as the big man got out of his car and casually, as though expected, entered the house.
"I don't like the look of that," said Marie. "What is that man doing in our house this late at night; it's after ten o'clock."
"We gonna go in?" said Jenny.
"I gotta get my clothes for tomorrow, don't I? I mean if we're all going to the water park in the morning," said Marie. "It's your fault anyway; you should've told me about the plans to go there before we left today for Miranda's."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah blame it all on me," said her twin.
"It's our house. Why shouldn't we go in to get my stuff," said Marie.
"Marie, I have a bad feeling about this," said Jenny, starting to tear up.
"Me too, Jen, but—mom wouldn't cheat on dad. Would she?"
"Gawd! I hope not," said Jenny.
As jenny and Marie sat in the car across the street, the porch light on their house went out. They waited some minutes before they began to worry: the man apparently wasn't coming out.
"We gotta get in there and get my clothes," said Marie. "And..."
"I'm afraid," said Jenny. "Wait, I know, I'll call mom on the cell and tell her we're coming to get your stuff."
Marie smiled, "Yes, that'll work, and we can pull up alongside her car just as she answers the phone; that way she won't be tempted to tell us that we should come over in the morning to get them instead."
"Hi Mom ... me an Marie ... yes we're having fun at Miranda's ... no no ... we'll be gone all day tomorrow ... yes ... uh-huh ... the waterpark ... we need some stuff ... uh-huh ... we'll be there in one minute ... we'll just run in and run out ... no-no-no ... we're pulling in to the driveway right now." Jenny hung up.
Their mother met them at the door. "Hurry up girls and get what you need. I need to get to bed; I have a big meeting tomorrow.
"I hope you two are behaving yourselves over at Miranda's."
"We are, Mom. I'll get my suit and a couple of other things, and we'll be out of your hair," said Marie
Jenny waited by the door while Marie ran upstairs to her room. Marie noticed that the door to her mom and dad's room was closed. That, coupled with the fact that their mother was already in her robe was telling. Marie got her stuff and ran down the stairs.
"Bye Mom," said the twins in concert as they rushed out the door.
"Have fun tomorrow girls," said their mother.
The girls waved as they got in their car and backed out of the driveway and drove down the street toward their friend's house where they were sleeping over.
"Shit!" said Marie. "That asshole is in her and dad's room!"
Carol Caldwell turned and uttered an audible sigh of relief as her two daughters drove off. She leaned back against the door jamb and took a couple of deep breaths. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom where her lover was already naked and waiting.
"That didn't take long," he said, reaching to take her in his arms.
She held him off, gently, and looked into his eyes. "Jules, I have to ask you something, and I need an absolutely honest answer."
"Okay," he said, a concerned look creeping into features.
"You're about to do me, and that in my marital bed. My husband is ignorant of us so far, so we could back off and go back to our lives: you to Helen and the children and me to Marvin and the twins. Are you sure you want me as much as I want you? Are you sure you are willing to do to Helen what I will be doing to Marvin when I serve him with divorce papers in a few month's time? Be sure, Jules, I love you, but I don't want this to turn out to be just you getting a piece of my ass and then saying sayonara. I don't know what I'd do if you did that to me," she said.
"Carol, I love you more than my life. I am as desirous of you as you are of me. I have wanted you since the first time we met at the office. Later, our intimate lunches and dinners, when Marvin was out of town, were wonderful for me. Too little and not nearly often enough, but wonderful nonetheless. I swear to you, I love you, and you are far more to me than just a piece of ass as you call it. On that you may rely," he said.
He took her in his arms and she melded her body to his. The robe had slipped from her shoulders. He slid her negligee and then her skimpy panties down and off as well. She was now as naked as he.
He kissed her forehead, her ears, her neck and finally her lips. He was gentle and slow and considerate of her needs.
He led her to the bed and laid her down on it. He looked down at her, his cock jutting out in front of him. She licked her lips and motioned him to her. He knelt beside her face and she reached for his cock and pulled it to her mouth. She kissed it while holding his sac in one hand and the base of his shaft in the other. She pulled it into her mouth and then out for a moment and looked at it. She thought about how his massive maleness would soon be pile driving itself into her making her scream and spasm with pleasure. He owned her and she worshipped him for enslaving her.
She began to suck and lick him with abandon. After several minutes, she looked up at him and said, now. She released him and got herself up on all fours presenting her ass for his assault. He got behind her and licked her secret places, both of them.
She felt him press his cockhead against her labia and push into her. He moved slowly, inch by precious inch. She felt him press his finger against her anus and push it inside of her as he fucked her. He varied his tempo. He wanted the feeling to last. She played with her clit as he continued to screw her. It was some while before he felt her stiffen. He began to speed up[, ] ramming her ferociously a dozen times before he exploded inside of her. She felt the heat of his semen wash her insides as she was riddled with orgasmic thunder. Gawd! how she loved the way he fucked her. He shivered too as he began to fade.
They collapsed together in a pile of flesh and sweat and carnal juices. The smell of sex and mating was all around them.
"He can't do that for you," said the man.
"No, he can't, he's too dinky," she said. "If he had what you have, you might not be here."
He smiled. His conquest was complete. He knew without a doubt that she was his. They cuddled and slept the sleep of the sexually satisfied.
It was two days later that Mr. Carr called the cell number he'd been given. He had summoned the cuckolded spouse to his office. Marvin sat across from him now having heard the basics. The PI had gotten what he needed sooner than anticipated.
"Yes, there is an affair and they apparently are in love. I'm sorry Mr. Caldwell, but it's all there in the package."
"Thank you. It's disturbing to finally know, but I knew in my heart after that night at the bistro that this would be the result. I know what to do now. Thank you again," I said.
Out in his car I cried. I let the tears flow without any attempt to restrain them. I would cry now, for a little while, and then I would get down to business.
I hadn't seen or heard the tapes yet; I wasn't sure I wanted to. I knew what they contained; the content was in the written report. The report was bad enough, but in the cold descriptive sentences that Mr. Carr had given me there was no tone of voice, no facial expression, no intensity. The written report had spared him all of that. The tapes would be far more cruel and destructive of his mind and soul. Betrayal was always bad—the worst.
I drove immediately to my bank. I took half of all of the assets depositing the proceeds in an untraceable offshore account I'd already opened; I was taking no chances. I figured I might give her the house; I couldn't bring himself to live in it anyway knowing how it had been desecrated. But the cash, she'd only end up getting half of what I'd left in the account. So, of the original three hundred thousand dollars, three-quarters would be mine. I cancelled our common credit cards. I retained only my company credit card; it would have to suffice for the present.
my meeting with the lawyer that afternoon would be brief. I had already set the wheels in motion. I would give Sam, my good friend and long time associate, the go ahead to file the divorce papers and to have her served.
Finally, I had to face the fact that I had to meet with my girls and let them decide what they wanted to do. This wasn't about them, but it would affect them greatly. If I held any bitterness toward my wife at all it would be as a result of what her selfishness was going to do to my babies. I was angry at her for that, very angry.
But, my greatest ire was focused on the man that had seduced my wife and cuckolded me. I actually hoped the asshole didn't show, because if he did, I could not guarantee that I would let him be.
At 10:00AM a man with a briefcase walked into the offices of Sierra Insurance Ltd. and enquired after Mrs. Caldwell. He was ushered into her office. There was a man with her leaning over her desk scanning some documents.
"Mrs. Caldwell?" said the visitor. Then, looking over at the big man beside the desk, he smiled. "And, I believe you are Mr. Weathers if I am not mistaken," said the man.
"Yes, I am."
"Good, it saves me a trip." He opened his briefcase and pulled out two manila envelopes. He glanced at the names on each and handed each of the parties theirs respectively.
"You are both served. You Mrs. Caldwell for divorce, and you sir for alienation of affection. Mr. Caldwell asks that neither of you attempt to contact him. He has moved out of your house, Mrs. Caldwell," he said. He handed each a card: Sam Kellerman, atty. "Any contact should be through Mr. Kellerman's office." The man then turned and left.
Carol Caldwell was stunned. She almost fell into her chair. She paled. An involuntary tear dropped onto her breast. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She had planned to make it as painless as possible for her husband, but he had gone and usurped her good intentions. Everything was a mess now. The girls! She had to get to the girls! Nothing else mattered for the moment. She stood and moved to go. She looked at her lover but said nothing. They'd talk later.
Julius just stood there, also shocked and irresolute. Alienation of affection? What had he done but fallen in love? That it was with another man's wife didn't strike him as meaningful. Helen! My gawd, he thought, she'd divorce him immediately. The children! It was going to be messy.
The two girls and their dad sat in the booth at Denny's. "Girls, I hate to have to tell you this, but I am leaving your mother. We have problems," I said, "big problems."
Marie started to cry. "You know don't you, Dad?"
"Huh?" I said.
"You know about mom and her boss," said Jenny elaborating.
"You girls know too?" I said.
"We've seen the asshole at our house at night," said Marie. "Yes, we know."