Chapter 2: 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 as a teacher. It was lucky that I met him at that time in my life because he was the right guy and I was more than 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 trying to unsnap 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. That one 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 specifically 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, 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 wet.

After his presentation, I sidled over to stand silently next to him; while keeping a close eye on the unruly little tykes under my supervision. He looked directly at me. It was like he was deciding something. Then he 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 short 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 the men my age were like glorified frat boys.

Tom took his time when we first made love. He carefully explored my body to identify all the hot buttons. Then he proceeded to push every one of them in the exact order 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, shrieking 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, during that period Tom was as kind, gentle and understanding as a man could possibly be. And I loved him even more for his tenderness. Plus, I always had a new crop of bright young faces to nurture every fall. Our love just kept getting stronger.

Even in my early forties we were still having sex like much twenty-year-olds. 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 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. That was 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. So, he was around our house all the time, so much so that I would usually forget he was there. One day I was working on 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.

Murph 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. 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. 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 during the 17 years I had been married. But a woman who looks like me never turns off her sensors. We know when a man is checking us 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 planning 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 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. So, the minute we got in the bedroom 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 l\while. 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. It is a matter of investment. I have so much devoted in the guy that the thought of losing him to anything, plane crash, heart attack, or another woman, is terrifying.

He called me every night and we talked. I was hoping he was interested in a little phone sex. I even mentioned 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 at a stunningly hot woman who was saying something to him. I thought his look was a little over-friendly. 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 an 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 a convention.” 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 with Jim. I 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 had Ebola or something because he did a double-take at my ravaged face. He said compassionately, “This has been rough on you. I’m sorry.”

I collapsed on his shoulder wildly crying. 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 drove 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. My anguish had turned to cold fury by the time he was finished.

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 a college chum. 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.