An Ordinary Betrayal
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Cheating,
Desc: Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The toilet is stopped up again and guess whose job it is to plunge it? John's tired of his job and sick of the stapler fights and highlighter graffiti that it's his job to clean up. Also it would be nice to have sex once in a while, but his wife has been working sun-up to sun-down for weeks. It's an ordinary life. So why has he been having nightmares and why can't he remember what they're about?
It took John ten minutes hard work with the plunger to get a decent flush out of the toilet. Five clogs in the last couple weeks. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He shouldn't have trusted that home inspector, no matter how much Elaine said she felt like the old lady who lived in a shoe after Peter had been born.
Plunging a toilet didn't work showy muscles, but it gave him time to think about work. Normally he escaped his office Friday and, no matter how hot the office brush fires, he let them through the weekend. On Monday he played catchup and each day tension built until by Wednesday, he would be spending breaks playing hearts with the janitorial staff in the sub-basement.
This past week had been a five-day migraine of personnel management. The worst part had been the escalation of the latest he said/she said crisis and the radiating network of grief it caused. Frequently John and his coworker Marty laid out the building plans and stared at the departments as patchworks of the different factions. The argument had been inconsequential, but John had witnessed how quickly battle lines could be drawn over the most inconsequential matters. This week they had "locked down" the staplers and highlighters in anticipation and still there had been incidents.
The past week's dustup was a hiccup. Beyond the horizon, summer vacation planning loomed. In weeks his hallway would be a holding pen for the mob of time share and wedding bell idiots who needed the first two weeks in June off. Marty kept a can of pepper spray in his drawer and made sure it was charged for the summer crazies. John wasn't frightened. No matter how they postured and presented, in his head he pictured them as small, furry ineffectual creatures. On those days, Human Resources Associate was a fancy way of saying lemming wrangler.
John's bright idea was for corporate to buy vacation properties and use them to dilute timeshare conflicts. It was a simple idea, but his wrinkle was to get HR to manage employees' vacation time. Get everyone locked in to the same year-in and year-out schedule instead of having the request scramble. Now he needed to get the particulars on paper before it left his head.
He hesitated at the stairs as Elaine's enunciated storytelling voice drifted down. If he went to his office, he would get caught up in a "please, dear" or "please, daddy" chore.
He couldn't forget this idea, and though he loved them, his family was a giant vortex of time sucking.
Damn it, concentrate on the plan. Time shares and resorts, memos and corporate, data-basing and planning, lemmings skiing black diamond trails in Aspen.
Searching the kitchen, he turned up a box of crayons and three dried-up markers. In passing he stuck a pair of black bananas in the freezer and smashed a fruit fly.
His every thought turned to lemmings: lemmings waddle-dancing at weddings, lemmings sitting in lawn chairs drinking warm beer, "oohing" at amusement parks' fireworks, vomiting in pay toilets, waiting in three hour lines for the roller coaster, and lemmings, lemmings, lemmings piling endlessly down slides at water parks.
The longer the search went on the more he panicked.
He flashed back to Wednesday when an Italian suit told him that he and his lemming wife needed to be in Biarritz on June 5th. John could picture it already. A paunch bellied lemming stuffed into a skimpy, red racing swimsuit rubbing SPF 100 sun block over his pale hairy belly. His lemming wife snoozed in her recliner while paunch belly goggled at two gorgeous twenty-somethings on the other side of the pool.
Under the couch cushions looked to be a loss. Chip crumbs, a blue sippy cup lid and ... shoved in the right corner ... aha! ... pens. Sucked up to them was a silver triangle of metallic wrapping that looked like the stuff they wrapped pop-tarts in. Along the edge he could see the letters "Tr" a rip bisecting an "o" and then an elevated dot that must have been topping off an "i."
The image of an endless line of lemmings cramming themselves into a cable car hit him. The line stretched to the horizon, and already lemming faces were smushed flat against the glass. The frame billowed out, the glass swelling like a balloon, lemming faces compressed inside so tightly the glass was a black and white polka dot pattern of panicky lemming eyes. Still the lemmings streamed in and the heavy muscled conductor became a compactor, jamming one more in, again and again.
God, why did he think of things like that? He chose a black ballpoint that miraculously had the cap on and pushed the rest of the pens back behind the cushion.
The wrap clung to his hand. "Troi" something. It struck him as familiar, but he pushed the thought aside and stuck the bit of crap in his wallet. Mister A.D.D. had to get his idea down before it drifted away.
It took twenty minutes and thirty-two pink post-its to flesh out the idea, but by the end he was satisfied that he'd gotten the essentials. Afterwards he whipped dinner together.
Upstairs, he peeked in the master bedroom and saw his kids huddled beside Elaine on the bed. His daughter shushed him by putting a finger to her lips while Peter stared at the ceiling with dreamy unfocus.
Elaine's cheeks screwed on her best silly-serious face as she acted out the Dr. Seuss book. John lingered on the play of her lips and let his thoughts stray.
It was a Norman Rockwell scene, but to his eyes there was nothing folksy or homespun about his wife. His gaze settled on her mouth opening and closing, her tongue tip just visible as she hissed out a word.
"Daddy?" Sasha looked at him and all lascivious thoughts faded. Elaine had stopped and smiled at him curiously. 'Okay, idiot, ' his brain told him, 'say something.'
"Sorry." God, he was hard. Not so hard that it was noticeable, but still.
"Your face looks funny. What're you thinking about?" Sasha said, staring up at him with big hazel eyes. She canted her head sideways and her light brown hair curled up like a question mark.
Okay that killed his fantasy.
"Nothing. Just thinking about daddy's work. Didn't mean to interrupt."
Sasha giggled and turned to her little brother waving her hand like a conductor's baton.
"Silly Daddy," Peter said, just as his sister had trained him to do. Peter turned his attention back to Elaine. "More story, Mommy."
Elaine continued reading and John let the overly familiar words flow past him. His gaze lingered on his wife, taking in the whole of her now, chastely appreciating her charm.
The moment was ruined as he flashed back on remarks made by half-tanked partygoers at a function they'd attended two weeks ago.
It was a dinner party at the house of his boss' boss. Maybe he would have been better going casual, but Elaine loved outfitting him like an oversized Ken doll. The dress up game brought forth the buried little girl side of her personality. She put him in cummerbunds and kilts, western ties and twill vests bouncing on her toes and clapping her hands in delight.
As dull as playing manikin was, if it made his wife happy, he could stand it. In the end Elaine always chose either a classic tuxedo or a charcoal suit depending on which matched her wardrobe best. He wore the gold cuff links Elaine bought him for an anniversary gift and she finished their outfits with cotton candy colored ribbons supporting the latest cause. But it didn't matter if they glided in like Spanish ballroom dancers or if they sopped and puddled into the hall like Titanic survivors, they got the same look. Hidden behind professional humdrum and strangled Botox smiles, it was clear they didn't measure up.
The comments made it worse. The most common was "Uh ... and how did you two get together?" That night, it seemed like they had at least escaped the worst until a woman who had been quietly admiring John remarked to him, "I imagine you must have been amazingly fat at some point."
No one would call Elaine ugly. John loved her body and was it wrong to adore such a cute nose? Long legs and small breasts on a slim frame pleased him as much as big tits and lush asses worked on regularly framed women. Elaine's long legs and lithe body had grace and she carried herself with a ballerina's joy of movement.
Most of her bosom came from padding and the first time he got her bra off had been a panicky time for Elaine. Her breasts swelled to a low B cup while nursing, but even breastfeeding two sharp toothed infants had done nothing to reduce the sensitivity of her big soft nipples. Still, it was her dark-brown eyes that caught him, sparkling with starry thoughts spinning through her mind.
John was light to her dark. His mother thought God had been kind to him, where kindness meant smoothness and symmetry. His blue eyes were calm and called cerulean by people who read too many romance novels. Women saw his limpid eyes, reluctant smile, and soft, jet black hair and it reduced even the crustiest of crusty pantied matrons into tittering girls.
At work his black framed glasses and dour suits made him a dorky Clark Kent, but his mild-mannered appearance kept looks to a minimum. It was only when Elaine dressed him up that he remembered what it was like to be handsome.
Life had laid itself at his feet when he was younger, especially when it came to people. Through his high school years his ego had only taken a rest when his mother came around. Heading to college, he left behind all inhibitions and decided to take a 24 hour a day, seven day a week pussy bath.
That part of him had been dead and buried. For all his looks and charm, that John might never have existed. The only remembrance of his old self was that he fussed with his hair too much, and spent as much time with shampoo and conditioning products as his wife did.
Elaine closed the book.
"Again momma. Again. Again, again, again." Seeing his mother shaking her head, Peter's face scrunched up.
John cleared his throat heading off the tantrum. "Spaghetti and meatballs are getting cold."
The little boy's breath puffed out. He looked at the book a moment longer and then up at John.
"The garlic bread's gonna burn if we don't get to it soon. Unless you like the bread extra black and crucnchy?"
Peter jumped to his feet and looked ready to run off, before John caught his eye. He nodded in the direction of the bathroom. His son made a face, but followed in his sister's wake.
The rest of the evening followed to a pleasant but nearly forgotten routine. Dinner over and the dishes done, they would watch a video and then Peter and Sasha would go to bed. If the kids stayed quiet and the grownups weren't too tired, John would make love to Elaine. Unfortunately, Elaine's job was soaking up more and more hours. He usually left her working in the living room during the week, often finding her snoring on the couch with the laptop beneath her head in the morning.
Halfway through the meal, it became clear the only sex in his future was a few soapy tugs in the shower. Peter was buzzing like a bumblebee and Sasha was only slightly better. Worse still, it was raining outside and the networks reported thunder and lightning likely. He suspected that since the kids had seen so little of their mother in the last few weeks that they would have engineered a slumber party either way. There was no fighting it. It was a "Mom, I can't get to sleep" night. Being a good dad, John convinced himself that this wasn't so terrible.
He spent an hour transferring the post-its with his plan to his laptop and refining his ideas. When he came downstairs, Elaine and the kids were watching a DVD. He settled into his leather recliner and barely paid attention to the video he had seen at least forty times before.
When the movie finished, Elaine and the kids headed upstairs while he caught the late news. Ten minutes into it he was nodding off and he switched to a program that involved reality television celebrities climbing into an acid dunk tank. He was hefting a softball and staring at the dumb piggy eyes of a want-to-be wannabe preening for the TV camera. He looked at the softball sadly, realizing he must be dreaming. Then even that thought faded as he drifted into a deeper sleep.
Lightning woke him from a terrible dream. In between rapid eye movement dream blinks, the flash blinded him and thunder shuddered though the house.
'And I'll huff and I'll puff and blow your house down, ' he had read the three little pigs to the kids yesterday.
He trembled like he hadn't since he was Sasha's age. As he blinked away the flash blindness, he expected a monstrous wolf to be bearing its fangs in the window. Lightning streaked in the distance.
'Okay, calm down, just calm down for a second.'
His heart thumped in his chest, but slowly he relaxed his grip on the recliner. Lightning sparked farther away. Out the window, all he saw were shadowy tree branches swaying in the rain.
Even as his heartbeat slowed, his body felt stretched tight. His hands curled into fists and with it he felt a shadow of anger. He was angry about something in his dream, but the more he focused on the anger, the faster the feeling fled.
'I'm just being silly.'
On the television Rod Serling seemed to be doing the Jerry Springer's thought moment on an old black and white episode of the Twilight Zone.
The only thing he remembered was a wooden ship moving slowly creating a ripple in clear, amazingly blue water.
Was he really that upset about this stupid vacation and timeshare business? It was just a dream and a vague one at that.
He turned off the television and rubbed at a twinge in his back. Upstairs, he found Sasha and Peter were cuddled up on either side of Elaine. He delicately moved Peter's legs toward his mother to clear enough space to lie down.
On the drive home from work Monday a thought was gnawing at the back of his brain. It bothered him. Call him a simpleton, but he didn't like to do "deep thinking" unless he had to. Bars seemed to be full of deep thinkers at happy hour.
Little John was lonely. Hell, in the last couple months, he and Elaine had been so busy that Little John hadn't gotten much more than a few friendly pats. It was a wonder he wasn't waking up with sticky sheets.
Of course Elaine's job took up most of her free sex hours, but there was no fighting that. No, the main reason for little John's loneliness boiled down to Peter and Sasha. They had been so caught up in being perfect parents that sex got pushed to the bottom of the to-do pile. The solution was ridiculously simple. Well, not simple, but between grandparents and sitters and friends with small kids it could be worked out.
Was that what the dream had been about?
He remembered the lightning startling him awake. It wasn't just one ship, it had been a fleet of old wooden boats and he'd been angry. That mad, crazy kind of angry that had happened to his uncle and that had always terrified him. The worst he'd ever done was get into a couple screaming matches with his dad and smash phones when he got mad.
It didn't make sense. Was he angry at Elaine and the kids because he wasn't getting enough sex?
John stopped for the interminable light on Fletcher Street.
It was sad. He'd already had to change the way he typed at the keyboard to minimize the strain on his hands. For some reason, he used his right hand more while typing and really abused it squeezing the stress ball. At the end of the day, his good right hand wasn't in the mood. His left hand was the ugly dateless sister who, despite all the enthusiasm in the world, didn't have the looks or skill to get him off.
Maybe Elaine's mom could babysit the kids this weekend or they could barter with the parents of Sasha's best friend?
Then there would be sex. He felt himself getting excited imagining the weekend as a sexual smorgasbord at which they would gorge. Oh and there would be costumes, Catholic school girl and cheerleader and sexy divorcee getups. Elaine would look amazing in the black merry widow and stockings he had given to her on his birthday.
The light turned green while in his mind Elaine moved toward him from across the room, rubbing her hand over the exclamation marks tenting the merry widow's top.
He saw himself take his paperboy cap and praying that his voice wouldn't break again as he goggled at sexy Mrs. Pemberton. "Maam, have you considered getting the weekly subscription?"
A car swerved around him and honked.
His wife kneaded his shoulders.
"Uh huh. Something the matter?"
He looked into her eyes and glanced down at the growing bulge in his pants.
"You're not stressed out about work anymore, are you?"
"Not about work." He reached down and shifted his cock. "It's not that I mind, but don't let your hands make promises that you're not willing to keep. And considering..."
"You're looking for a happy ending?" Elaine went down on her knees and let her hand smooth down his sides until they ended on his pant bulge. Deftly she rubbed her hand back and forth, pushing the lump around.
"What are you doing?" He pushed her hands away. She smiled and brought them right back. "The kids are outside. Not that I'm not ... not..." He ran out of words as he savored the feel of her hands.
"The sooner we get started the sooner we get finished," Elaine said continuing to rub his bulge.
"What got you all stirred up?" He was weakening and he knew it. He held one of her hands, but let the other continue rubbing.
"Have something against being happy?"
Elaine put her finger on his lips. "No buts just sit back and enjoy this."
John reached out and gave her a gentle kiss.
"When was the last time I told you how wonderful you are?"
"Monday, I think. Now shut-up there's been too much talking and not enough sucking going on. Just enjoy and no more resisting." She kissed his nose and pushed him back in the chair.
"Good," he grunted as her hands found his bulge again.
Her lips touched his neck. "You like me. You really like me!" She giggled a little. "Wow, you must really like Sally Field. You're about to bust out of these pants."
She unzipped him and slipped her hand through the opening of his boxers to firmly pump his cock.
He stifled a groan. "How can you ask that when you're doing that to me? I love this ... but it isn't fair ... I don't want this all one sided."
He started to turn, but she gripped harder halting his progress. "We don't have time for that."
"Not even..." he squirmed, but the jacking of her hand felt so good.
"I'd have to take a shower and Sasha needs a ride to her swim class. Besides I like making you happy." She nuzzled into his neck and then moved up for a lip mashing kiss. Her hand jacked him harder. Even as he burned hotter and hotter from the one handed jacking, he felt her other hand on his pants clasp and suddenly his cock was exposed.
She pulled back from the kiss and stared down. "I'm a lucky woman."
"I've got to fuck you soon," he husked.
Elaine stepped around the chair and suddenly she was straddling his lap. "Now just be careful and be sure not to get any on me." She reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of hand cream and squeezed out a generous dollop.
Two slick warm hands found his cock and began jacking hard. He hunched forward.
Elaine kissed his cheek and used her head to bush him backward. "None of that. I don't have time to change my clothes either."
John leaned back and marveled at what was happening. "I feel like a teenager."
"You like it?" she asked as her fingertips kneaded the sensitive spot just under the glans. "I saw how turned you were on by that scene in the movie last night."
She jerked harder and kissed him even harder. "Now, baby, give it to me, all of it." Just as quickly as that he was coming like a rocket splattering cum all the way up his shirt. He spurted hard once, twice and a third time as her hands kept pumping. He leaned forward pinning her lips and grunting into her mouth as his climax kept going. Finally she pulled back and grinned at him.
"Nice change of pace?"
"Yeah," he looked down at the stains around his shorts and the tie shaped splatter going up his shirt, "but messy. How about round two in our bed?"
"Tonight, if we can manage it."
John kissed her lightly. "You always were a good planner."
It didn't make sense. He didn't know whether Elaine had slipped a sleeping pill into the kids' meatloaf or not, but both of them went right to sleep. What followed was a night of enthusiastic, hushed sex. He had gotten payback eating Elaine to a long drawn out orgasm. They took turns punishing each other. The sex had been so good that his hips ached afterward. Elaine was snoring as she always did after good sex.
His body was satisfied to soreness, but his mind wouldn't turn off. Why wasn't he asleep? He did his best not to let work creep into his personal life. He might have been the zookeeper in charge of the lemming exhibit, but he had no desire to sneak one out in his briefcase.
Elaine mumbled in her sleep something about closing the window, and rolled on her back.
He envied Elaine, but he had no interest in high finance or the hours that she worked. He had drifted into personnel management, but he liked his job when they were living in Chicago. HR wasn't so much like crisis management back then.
It was too early for a mid life crisis. Unless all these images of lemmings in his head were trying to tell him something. But there was this feeling he couldn't explain and couldn't get rid of no matter how much he dismissed it.
He loved his wife and like most people he wasn't crazy about his job. Thanks to Elaine's hefty paycheck they had no great financial crises to worry about. It wasn't like he was destined to greatness or had a great artistic yearning. As shaky as he was in math, even painting by numbers was an iffy proposition.
He stared in the direction of the television set, but he wasn't in the mood to watch anything.
Elaine burbled something. It was dark but the windows let in the dim moonlight. Her eyelids flittered.
She mumbled "Charlie..." and let out a sleepy giggle. "Wait ... not here ... John..."
Elaine mumbled something else and let out a snort-snore. Her eyelids were still flickering. He waited quietly for five minutes and then she mumbled "Pill for seasickness Sasha..." After that her eyelids stilled and she rolled on her side.
He was up and packing the kids lunches when Elaine came down that morning.
She kissed him on the cheek and then anxiously poured herself a cup of coffee, added a packet of sugar and cream and took a cautious sip. She looked up at him over the cup lip. "Wasn't it my morning?"
"Acid reflux. I forgot to take the pill. And yes, I know it's my fault and I shouldn't have had caffeinated tea at night either."
"You need to use pill cases." She shook her head, biting off the rest of that common discussion.
John applied himself to finishing the sandwiches and packing lunches for himself and Sasha while Elaine's gaze flowed through the business section of the paper reading a page in the time it would take him to read a column.
When he was done, he propped the sports section in front of him. He flicked his eyes up seeing her legs move and listening to her reading noises. It was hearing her mumble the name of her first boyfriend in her sleep that was bothering him. It was just a dream and from all reports Charlie was fat, married and living in Malaysia. Still, it bothered him.
Jealousy didn't fit him. Elaine didn't deserve it, and if he knew anything it was that she loved him as much as he loved her.
Elaine nursed her coffee, occasionally mouthing something in reaction in the front section that she was flying through. She folded the paper over and looked at him strangely.
"Something the matter?"
"A few silly thoughts running around my head. I'm still in shock from that performance you gave me. Not that I was against it, but what was that about? Or am I really that irresistible?"
"Baby, you are a hunk and you know it." She waved away his objection. "You're so strange when it comes to talking about your looks. Can you at least accept that you're a hunk to me?"
"So you think I'm sexy and you've been holding back until finally, yesterday, you couldn't take it any more?"
"Can't I get horny too?" Elaine pinked up and it only got worse when she raised her eyes at John. "Don't give me that look. I need it too, and lately we haven't been taking enough time for us. Have you realized how long it had been we'd done anything naughty?"
"Painfully aware." How could he say he enjoyed it and was disturbed by it at the same time? "Well, not pain exactly, but what I was talking about was the..." he gestured up and down with his fist.
"It was that movie a couple nights ago, but more than that..." She paused and checked the hallway to make sure that little ears weren't listening. "There were a couple of teenagers on the ride home yesterday. I was stopped at a light and the guy was driving. She had this flirty smile and he had that wrinkle-faced look trying to keep the load from shooting off in his pants. I think she was just rubbing him or going for a little feel through his pockets, but it reminded me of our early dates. It wouldn't leave my mind all day and by the time you got home I couldn't stop myself." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You didn't mind, did you, honey?"
"When did you turn into sexpot?"
Her look turned falsely insulted. He held up a hand to stop her. "Hold that thought. I need to get the kids moving."
As he went upstairs, he couldn't understand why he had cut the conversation short. Sasha and Peter had fifteen minutes before the parental bullying kicked in.
Of course they didn't want to get up, but after knocking on each door for twenty seconds they started moving. He watched them to make sure they didn't head back to bed before heading downstairs. He wasn't in the mood for the conversation Elaine was pushing, but he went back down anyway.
"They're awake then?" At his nod, her face took on that false moodiness. "I believe before you left that you had made the baseless but inspiring accusation that I had turned into a sexpot."
"Isn't it too early to talk about sex?"
"I just wanted to finish the conversation. We've got a couple minutes before the kids come down."
His coffee buzz had left and groggy and cranky were kinking in. It was an unwritten job requirement that HR employees be upbeat and he didn't feel like starting in with the fake smiles until he had to.
"John, how much sleep did you get last night?"
"Some." God, he did not want to get some helpful I-told-you-so advice about that. He tried to remember what they had been talking about. "But that wasn't the subject. The subject was sexpot."
Elaine grinned. "I'll take the question for a $1000, Alex."
John ignored her. "It's not that you've turned into a sexpot, it's when you turned back into a sexpot that's got me curious."
She smiled. "I don't know ... well, mmm..." She looked down at the floor. "Promise you won't get weirded out if I tell you?"
He didn't want to talk at all. This was breakfast and the only thing he wanted to listen to was the sound of bacon strips sizzling. Realizing Elaine required a response, he nodded.
"Okay, but don't say you weren't warned." She smirked. "I was talking to your mother ... Oh don't be a baby. Your mother was telling me she wouldn't mind spending more time with her grandchildren. Then I remembered that my mom said the same thing, although in her case, my dad was rolling his eyes."
John looked toward the hallway hoping the kids would come down soon. "That won't stop your Mom."
"I know. Well, when my mom offered, it seemed like if I asked her to take the kids..." She bit off the rest of the sentence and frowned.
Was it really her mumbling Charlie's name that got him upset or was it that dream he couldn't remember?
"If I asked her to take care of the kids, I wouldn't be Supermom anymore." Elaine stopped, her lips pinched inward. "But when your mom offered to take the kids, it was different. Your folks are wonderful grandparents. But when they were raising you and your brothers it was just luck that nothing terrible happened to you."
"What happened to Tom's toe was an accident."
Elaine held out her hand as she saw her husband's face curdling. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. Somehow when his family talked about the craziness going on when they were growing up, it never made him feel bad. That didn't mean that Tom or John would treat their kids the same; every family had its share of drunken binge episodes. Funny stories were just survivable tragedies
"With your mother I don't feel that I have to be perfect. It was a bolt of inspiration and with it I didn't feel so guilty. Being a supermom isn't possible..."
John stared through Elaine as she kept talking. When she said bolt, he flashed back to that interrupted dream and the anger was back. It wasn't formless anger anymore. Fury reached out of his chest and grabbed Elaine.
" ... and we drop the kids off with our folks, and go skiing," she said grinning with what he thought of as her bunny face. "Ski all day and cuddle up in front of a big fire at night drinking hot buttered rum."
He had a flash of wooden ships with oars and square sails that looked like sackcloth. They had landed on a shore and the sailors stared up at a city gleaming from the sun reflecting off a forest of metal tipped spears and helmets. He was furious at the sight.
"If you don't want to go skiing, it's all right with me. But I don't understand why you're getting upset. This is supposed to be fun."
He saw the scene clear and move forward. Short, swarthy men poured out of the ships. They were yelling what sounded like Greek. And the men on the city's walls, short, swarthy men with glinting helmets and wooden shields rushed from the city. Except now their spears were gone and instead they held handfuls of silvery plastic.
John pulled his wallet out. The silvery metallic wrapping that he had forgotten about was still there. "Tr" an "o" that had been cut off and the dot of an "I". Except that it wasn't an "i", it was a "j". Trojan. The silvery wrapping was the ripped top of a condom packet.
Elaine stared at the wrapping with guilt written all over her face.
God, didn't Elaine even have enough shame to lie about it? Or at least a stupid, halting protest that it wasn't what he thought it was. He should have learned about it by degrees, like unraveling a mystery, suspicion leading him down a chain of clues until when the secret came to light he knew what he had to do.
He pushed the bit of wrapping into his pocket. "You were never going to tell me."
Elaine shook her head.
"Because it would hurt me or because you didn't want to screw things up for you and him? Is that the reason why we haven't been having sex? You believe in staying true to one man at a time?"
Her face was a blank.
He felt his eyes tearing and couldn't stop it. "Nothing, Elaine? Is this just business as usual to you? I found out you're fucking another man and it's like I told you that you forgot to pick up my shirts. Well..." He grabbed her arm and made her look at him. "IT'S A LOT FUCKING MORE IMPORTANT THAT THE DRY CLEANING!"
"THIS FUCKING SPOT ISN'T GOING TO WASH OUT!"
He just got angrier, his teeth clenched, and his face flushed more deeply red with every second.
"On the couch. Here in our home on our couch? And in the bed too? Maybe on top of the dryer? WELL?" He sucked in a deep breath, but the dark flush was advancing down his neck. "OR LIKE YOUR HUSBAND WAS THAT TOO BORING?"
She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Don't yell."
He choked on rage. "THAT'S..." He sucked in a deep breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "That's all you have to say?" His arms shook and in the quiet after his question he could hear his teeth grating. "That's IT? This big moment and all you have to say is 'don't yell'. As smart as you are, this is all I get? You must have written a script for this in your head, but I'm fucking winging it because you forgot your lines. How was it supposed to go? You say whoops, and I say anyone can make a mistake."
Her eyes glistened. "No."
"Fuck your no. Fuck your God damned lover. It didn't matter then, did it?" Her face tilted up and he locked his eyes on hers. "Were you going to send me a bouquet of honeysucker blooms with a card that read 'It only happened that one time.' You ... GOD, you think I'd believe a word that comes out of your mouth?" As emphasis he kicked the end table and watched it smack into the wall.
Elaine gathered herself and focused her gaze at a point just under his chin. "There were so many times in the middle of the night with you sleeping beside me that I wanted to tell you. So many chances to get it out, but you looked so peaceful. I couldn't hurt you like that."
He shook his head and kept shaking it through her words, refusing to take them in. "A minute ago you were whispering about a romantic weekend. Was that your way of trying to even things up? You throw a fuck my way so the lover versus husband contest isn't a complete shut-out. Why not? Throw me a pity fuck because I'm good with the kids. Or are you thinking, I better let little dick stir the honey pot once so he doesn't get suspicious."
Tears swelled her eyes, but her face showed only a ripple of sadness. "It wasn't like that. It was nothing ... it didn't have anything to with love."
How could he have been so dumb? How could he not have known? Except that he knew why he didn't know, she had been hiding it and he had been stupid enough to have faith in her.
"What happened was just..."
Tear drops trailed down her cheek freely, but her face was blank. It just made John madder. She couldn't even bother to become upset. The tears weren't about grief, her eyes just had a leakage problem.
The only emotion she had was self pity.
Under his glare, she pulled back the hand that was reaching out to him. "It happened. It's just words, but what do you want me to say? You think I didn't know there was a time-bomb that had been stuck in the middle of my life? I felt it was wrong and knew it was wrong, but it still happened."
He unfastened the over fancy watch Elaine had given him for his birthday and dropped it in the garbage pail. "So it was nothing but a case of wrong place, wrong time. Besides it was an accident, you were relaxing on the couch in a short skirt and crotchless panties when a guy wearing nothing but a condom walked past you. He slipped on the carpet and his cock happened to stick in your pussy. God damn, that rug must have been slippery because his foot kept slipping and before you know it he had filled the condom. Innocent right? Mere courtesy followed. He planned to go, but you couldn't have him walking around naked."
Elaine shook her head. "It was stupid and sordid and worthless. The only way I think about it is that I wish it would have never happened."
John ignored her words. "It was only polite for you suck him until his cock hardened and you could slip on a new condom. Then wouldn't you know it? He slipped again. Bull-fucking—shit. It just happened? You just happened to fuck him for weeks and just happened to lie to me about it in every glance and with every word since then. How many lies is that? How many times did you say, 'Love you, honey' after you had been fucking him? Elaine, no fucking around. How many times?"
She wiped her face and took a big snotty breath. "The first time, we didn't have sex ... it was his fingers and my hand. I felt so guilty when it was happening, but afterwards..."
John's eyes stretched in amazement. "You really don't know? You think I want to hear details? If you can, it just proves that it wasn't nothing. The last time I had sex before meeting you is a ghost, and the only reason I remember it at all was because I wanted to finish quickly because I had time to go over my notes before a presentation. But it sounds like you were going to play out your romps in 3-D. You really think that of me ... that I want to hear your cock stories? That it's my fantasy to jerk off hearing about you fucking other people?"
He held still and raggedly sucked in a breath. As he raged, he had moved closer, his height and build hulking over her. Heat radiated from his body and pain flared behind his eyes. He breath wheezed like wind through a creaky house.
"How many times did you lie to me? Or lie to your folks. Did you fuck lovers while chatting to your mom about Sasha's soccer tournament? Did you fuck them with me on the phone? Or were you writing me email or looking at our wedding pictures?"
"It ended two weeks ago," she squeaked out. "It's over. It was a terrible, terrible mistake, but it's over. It was my fault and my insanity, but it's over."
"A condom wrapper just happens to appear in the couch two weeks after you gave studboy his goodbye fucks? Or were you more into oral and anal. So if hubby has to ask, 'Oh Hon did you ever loan out your pussy?' You can say, 'God, no dear, never my pussy.'"
"Why do you have to be so horrible? It wasn't like that. He was just..."
His head snapped up and his eyes bore into Elaine's face. "He who?"
"It doesn't matter. This has nothing to do..."
His eyes locked with hers. "FUCKING, HE WHO?"
Elaine couldn't look away and the only thing in her eyes were fear. The anger in his eyes was bottomless and her mouth stitched together. She tried to shake her head, tried to get her legs to inch back as John's rage built. Her fear was a magnet drawing him in.
John's reptile mind rushed from its cave and reason receded. His hand was raised and balled into a fist. His face shone with sweat as his heart pounded faster. The dark voice inside him whispered, "Let go. Just let go." His arm cocked back and his brain and body resonated with longing to smash someone. His arm trembled at the trigger point.
A part of him wanted Elaine to say one more thing because the sound of her voice had become hateful to her. If she said one more word, he wouldn't be responsible for what happened. But she was frozen. Then she blinked and the terrible connection of his rage and her fear was broken.
His fist trembled and his shoulders twitched. He stared at it his hand like it was an artifact. Slowly reason resurfaced. He unclenched his fingers and pushed his hand to his side. Looking up Elaine's eyes touched on his and then looked to the floor. He stared at his hand like he would a bloody cleaver. That guilt ballooned up as he turned his gaze away from Elaine and saw that Sasha was frozen in the hallway watching big eyed. Peter cowered behind her.
His family stood on tip toe their eyes following his slightest move like a mouse would a cobra.