Thursday morning in the bedroom of Paul Langley and his wife Judy’s bedroom -- Paul was sweating and puffing a bit in his exertions on top of Judy in the missionary position. He felt almost there with the familiar tightening of his balls. A few more pushes and he would fill his wife with his seed. Judy was calm and detached as she spoke the four words no husband wants to hear. No, not we have to talk. Judy looked her at husband of only nine months and said, “Are you finished yet?”
Paul was not an insensitive man. The words ended any possibility of him achieving an orgasm. He rolled off his wife and stared at the ceiling. “Yes, dear; I’m finished.”
“Good. I’m going to take a shower. You can stay in bed until I’m out.” I must pack for a four day stay in Peoria. I have at least nine houses lined up to show this weekend. I’ll be back Monday afternoon.
Paul watched his nude wife walk from the bed to the bathroom door. Good Lord, she was beautiful. He let his mind wander back to the day he asked this lovely creature to marry him. He was ecstatic when she said yes. She seemed to be so in sync with him in all the important ways. They were a good match in many things, politically, financially, both had the same feelings about children (they wanted to wait a few years before tying themselves down with child rearing), and the biggie, their enjoyment of sex and a strong belief in marital fidelity. Neither would tolerate screwing around and professed a sincere desire to remain faithful. She was simply perfect. In hindsight, Paul recognized that much of his assessment of Judy’s attraction was the “halo effect”. He was head over heels in love and was incapable of seeing any faults in her. He went to the altar believing the vision of loveliness on his left arm was his soul mate and life-long companion.
They were both a little bit older than the average age for marriage, at 26 for her and 29 for him. They had dated for a little over a year before he thought he was fully in love and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Paul had finished college and had a marketable master’s degree in computer science and had no difficulty in finding a good paying job as a software engineer. Judy lingered in school with her Women’s Studies major until her poor grades caused her to be dropped. The policy of the university required a minimum 2.0 GPA to move to the upper level of junior. Her 1.3 didn’t cut it.
Judy was sorry to leave school because she enjoyed the social life. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as sexually active as many of the girls her age. Not that she didn’t like boys or was terribly put off by sex. She just didn’t enjoy it as much as most of her girl-friends and she hated the angst that went with the whole romantic scene. The frat boys she met were mainly going with one night stands or wilder stuff like sex games that ended with forfeits like giving blowjobs in front of whoever was in the room. Not that she didn’t do it a few times, she just didn’t like it all that much. A big attraction she had for Paul was that he was not a frat boy and had respected her by not pressing for sex. She dated Paul for three months before she let him in her pants and, even then, she used sex as a reward for his good behavior.
Before her marriage, Judy lived with her parents, Preston and Mary Dahl, for a couple of years after college, and went through a series of minimum wage jobs, from burger flipping to clerking.
In the second year of living with her parents Judy’s father died from a heart attack on the golf course. Paul helped as much as he could in getting her through her grief. In retrospect, Paul was a bit surprised at the depth of her grief given that when he was living she didn’t seem to be that close to her father. About six months after his death in a rare show of ambition, Judy went to realtor’s school and did get her license. Her first real job was with a rather large real estate company that had branch offices in most of the towns within a 300-mile radius of Springfield.
She kept the relationship with Paul at a maintenance level until she was ready to marry. Paul was easily manipulated and basically allowed Judy to make the big, and not so big, decisions in their lives.
Truth be told, Judy’s acquiescence when he popped the question was more a calculated decision to improve her lifestyle than an abundance of love for Paul.
Before the marriage, her income as a realtor barely covered the mortgage in the house she and her mother shared and other living expenses. Although she hoped her clueless husband never found out, his six-figure income and nice house in a fashionable neighborhood greatly influenced her decision to say yes to his proposal. Her attitude toward sex with her new husband was that it was payment for her greatly improved lifestyle. Right after Paul presented her with the keys to a snazzy red Nissan 370Z, she spread for him every night for two weeks. She even threw in a few blowjobs when her period precluded vaginal sex.
Although not ideal, Paul was marginally satisfied with his marriage; and, since he really didn’t have anything to compare, he figured his marital situation was about average. Judy, on the other hand, was beginning to have serious second thoughts about her position. These feelings that much was missing in her life started her thinking how to spice up her sex life. A lifetime of fidelity to one man was never her game plan.
Paul was totally unaware of his bride’s state of mind and actually thought she was happy with him and her life overall. At first, she liked her position as a “lady of leisure.” However, after a few months she became bored with meaningless charity luncheons and volunteering at the library. He encouraged her to resume her job as a realtor that she had quit weeks before the marriage.
Her boss at the real estate office was pleased to welcome her back after her eight-month absence. Paul also noticed her moodiness was much less after her return to work. His only regret was her need to work on weekends and even having to remain overnight when she was showing homes in remote locations. There were times when several days could go by without the two seeing each other. So, even with that situation, Paul was glad that Judy kept busy and seemed to be happier than when she was not working at all. It didn’t take Judy very long to realize her job was ideal for her plan to put some sexual excitement in her drab life at home.
Judy’s surly disposition made it a blessing rather than a detriment for Paul when she was out on a house showing or the other excuses why she had to be away from their home. Shortly after the marriage Judy sold her parent’s home and moved her mother into the mother-in-law apartment in Paul’s spacious house. Judy was spending many weekends in a town about 70 miles north of Springfield. Her rationale was that it was better to stay at a motel than drive two hours just to sleep in our bed. She made it sound like she was doing him a favor. He never understood her reasoning, but it was easier to just let her have her way. When he meekly pointed out that a 70-mile drive was closer to one hour’s drive than two, she really flew off the handle and told him not to talk to her anymore until she got back. Paul got along very well with his mother-in-law, as she took better care of him than his wife by cooking healthy and delicious meals, keeping the house clean, doing laundry, and providing the companionship that was missing in his marriage.
Although not perfect or ideal, Paul’s life was no worse than many of his friends; however, he was soon to get a huge wake-up.
On one of Judy’s working weekends Paul was up early Sunday morning with a need to shuffle to the bathroom to relieve the pressure on his bladder. As he released the stream a sharp and severe pain in his penis caused him to cry out loudly. “What the Hell!!!” He tried to quit pissing to stop the pain, but he couldn’t. He really didn’t know what to do, but he knew he needed medical attention. He did not want to experience the excruciating pain again!
He dressed quickly and drove himself to the ER arriving about eight AM. To his good fortune, his cousin was on duty as the ER nurse. She greeted him with concern and a barrage of questions as to why her favorite cousin was at the ER so early on Sunday morning. “Paul, what’s wrong? Why are you here?”
“Good morning, Bettye. Believe me this isn’t a social call. I went to the bathroom this morning and had a pain like none other I’ve ever experienced—Jesus!”
“OK, Paul, be a bit more specific, was the pain in your abdomen, or further down?”
“Alright Bettye; my dick felt like somebody shoved a red-hot poker up it.”
Bettye responded with a low chuckle, “Paul, I’m pretty sure I know what your problem is, but you’re going to have to give me a urine sample to be sure. Can you squeeze out a little more in this cup?” She pointed to the Men’s room down the hall. “If I’m not here when you come out, have a seat and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Unfortunately, to give Bettye a sample Paul had to endure another painful urination that almost had him twisting the pipes away from the wall. He had to sit in the waiting room’s hard chair, holding the paper cup half full of pee until Bettye came back into the room.
“Sorry Paul, an ER nurse is constantly on the go. Between stabilizing some banged up teenagers who ran daddy’s car into a tree, I was able to call in a favor to get my friend in the Lab to give us an expedited analysis of your sample. Wait out in the lounge until I get back. Oh, no alcohol, coffee, or caffeinated drinks. You’ll be drinking only water for a while.”
Bettye took my little cup and swished through the double doors on her way to the lab.
It is one of Nature’s laws that time waiting in a hospital passes at slower rate than in any other environment. So, although my watch told me only it was about an hour and a half before Bettye returned, I swear it seemed like three hours.
“Well Paul, my first diagnosis was correct and is now confirmed by the lab. You have a raging gonorrhea infection. As your cousin, and not just a medical professional, have you been sticking your dick where it doesn’t belong? You know you have likely passed this to Judy. She may not know she has been infected because the symptoms of clap are different in the female.”
“Whoa, whoa, hold on Bettye, I have NOT been screwing around on Judy. The truth has to be the other way around.” Judy allowed me a quick fuck Thursday morning before she left to go to Peoria to show houses all weekend. I have never been with anyone but Judy for six months before our wedding.
Bettye’s face quickly changed from a smirk, appropriate for a cheating husband, to a different look of sadness and pity. “Oh Paul, I am so sorry, but don’t go off half-cocked. You need more information and time to think this through before you do something you may be sorry for later.”
Paul’s anger made it difficult for him to think, let alone make cogent decisions. But one thing was crystal clear in his head and he didn’t mind sharing it with Bettye.
“Ha! I think I have all the information I need to divorce the cheating slut as fast I can. I want her out of my life as quickly as legally possible. Do you have a name of a good divorce lawyer?”
Bettye said, “You’re still going too fast Paul. First thing, I must contact the County Health Department and report this communicable disease. Judy will have to divulge the names of all her contacts for the last few months. She’ll have no choice it this. Failure to cooperate is punishable by a stiff fine or jail time. What time do you expect her home?”
Paul was still almost too angry to think, but he answered, “She will roll in sometime between four and six PM tomorrow.”
The info from Bettye that the bitch was required to divulge her sex buddies did register with Paul big time. He didn’t have a plan right now, but the names and addresses of the bastards that have been fucking his wife would be part of his revenge scenario.
Bettye said “OK, I’ll tell the CDC folks to hand her the court order at about seven tomorrow evening. You, my favorite cousin, will bunk in with Roger and me until you decide exactly what you want to do. I’ll call Roger and you and he can gather up what you need for a few weeks. We have a large guest room with your own bath. I hope you will be comfortable until all this sorts out.”
Paul went to the pharmacy and filled his prescription for the anti-biotic and listened to the instructions from the pharmacist. “One capsule every four hours, drink lots of water and no alcohol or caffeine for two weeks.” Although he had not done anything wrong his face still burned with shame. He couldn’t tell the smug prick that it was his wife and not him that was responsible for his social disease.
He had at least 30 hours before he could have the face-to-face with that slimy, diseased, bitch, so he must line up his plan to get his finances in order. The more immediate action would be to get some clothes and any other stuff he needed loaded in his car and to move in with his very generous cousin.
During the drive home, he was thinking that he wanted to remove most of his personal belongings so that when she came home, Monday afternoon, it would be apparent that he was no longer living there.
That evening, at Bettye and Roger’s dinner table, the topic of conversation was unfortunately not conducive to the best digestion. Bettye told Paul that she had alerted the County Health officials of the possible mini-epidemic of Gonorrhea in this town, as well as in the towns that Judy sold homes. A small DCH task force was quickly formed to locate and confirm the carriers who were in Judy’s circle of sex partners, and to get a judge’s order to force those identified to report to the ER at the hospital to begin the Rx to nip this epidemic in the bud. The Judge’s order carried the penalty of a hefty fine or imprisonment for those who refused to comply. Bettye wryly told Paul that he would also have to submit a sworn statement on his sex partner even though Judy was the only one.
Even though the irony of his swearing to only one partner was not lost on him, the requirement to unmask the name or names of Judy’s fuck buddy or buddies was music to Paul’s ears. That Judy will be forced to name her lover(s) or go to jail is the best outcome for him. If everything works out, Judy will not be able to keep her job or even live in this town when this all gets out as public knowledge. Paul knew he would likely have to relocate as well or suffer the humiliation of being the cuckold in this sordid tale.
Paul was trying to form a comprehensive plan in his mind, “I know that I overthink everything, but I really do have to decide if I want to burn bridges and go for a quick divorce or should I scare Judy into future fidelity? Am I better off as a divorced single man, or would I be happier with a (hopefully) faithful spouse if Judy can convince me of her sincere regrets?”
It didn’t take much brain power or time for Paul to go on a divorce path. He was thinking “A critical look at my marriage all points to my being a wimpy, cuckold, a squishy, spineless, poor example of a man. Well, it all stops right NOW. My action plan revolves around a scorched earth, all-out war. I am going to destroy the bitch. The likely-hood of Judy suddenly becoming a dutiful wife is so far from the realm of possibility as to be laughable. I would give better odds for Hillary Clinton to ever become President.”
Paul spent most of Sunday making a list of everything that had to be done before Judy’s arrival home. He decided to stay away, or at least watch the house for the County Health official to deliver the Court Order notifying Judy of her change in status. from a respectable wife and real estate agent, to an unfaithful slut. Bettye told him the order would be delivered to Judy at the house around 7PM.
Paul called in to work to tell his boss he needed a personal day and would be in Tuesday. The day was filled with canceling credit cards and moving money to hidden accounts. He decided not to tell his parents about this SNAFU in his life just yet, nor discuss it with his mother-in-law. The best he could do with a lawyer was a Wednesday afternoon appointment. He breathed a silent “thank you” to his father who had convinced him to keep the deed to his house in his parent’s name, but treat it as wedding present. He wanted Paul to have pre-nup, but Judy was offended that he didn’t trust her so he meekly vetoed the pre-nup much to his father’s objections. Damn, he should have believed the saying “Father knows best” and gone with the pre-nup; at least the house is safe. Now he chuckled, “She’s going to shit a brick when she is evicted from her MacMansion that she insisted on gitting just before the wedding.” She never knew that the actual ownership remained with his parents. He toyed with the idea of allowing her mother to stay in her apartment as long as the slut stays away. She didn’t do anything wrong and he liked the way she fed him and kept the house.
Paul was able to accomplish all that was critical to sever his financial life from his cheating slutish wife before she got back in town.
While watching Monday night football with Bettye’s husband, Walt, his cell rang. “Hey, Walt, ya want to guess who that is?”
He quickly answered, “a pissed off punch board?”
“Good guess, should I answer?”
He said, with a big grin, “Only if you put her on the speaker phone.”
I punched the speaker button and placed the phone on the kitchen table and said, “Hello Judy, what can I do for you?”
The anger in her voice conveyed clearly so the three of us knew she was royally pissed off.
“Where the hell are you and why is your closet empty?”
In an even tone I replied, “I can answer you easily, I’m at Bettye and Walt’s house with most of my personal belongings because I will be bunking with them until I get my own place.”
Still angry, she said, “What the hell are you talking about, get your own place. Why would you do that?”
“Well, my clueless wife, remember the movie we both enjoyed a few years ago?” All Shall be Illuminated?” [Just at that moment, in an incredible bit of timing, I heard the front door bell.] “Unless I’m mistaken, the answer to your questions will be given to you by the man at the door.”
They all three heard the noise of a cell phone slammed down on the table and the sound of the front door opening. Judy screeched to the person at the door, “What the Hell do you want?”
The neatly dressed, rather large man spoke “Are you Mrs. Judith Langley?”
Thinking he must be a courier with documents for one of her listings, she said as she thrust her hand out “I am Mrs. Langley”
In a more officious voice, the man said, “I must see some identification, driver’s license or passport.”
“Jesus,” Judy muttered under her breath, “I’ve never had to show ID to get closing documents before.”
On the open speaker, they could hear her rummaging in her purse. “OK, here is my driver’s license, give me the damn envelope”
“Just one more thing Mrs. Langley; please sign this receipt” as he thrust a clipboard at her.
She must have signed the receipt as the next thing we heard was the official cheerfully saying “Thank you Mrs. Langley, you’all have a nice day, you hear.”
They then heard the door slam and the sound of a fairly heavy envelope hitting the table top.
“OK Paul, I’m back, what is this illumination shit all about”
With that he said, “Your answer is in the envelope. I would advise you to take the court order inside very seriously. If you don’t, I will not visit or bail you out of jail.”
With that he hit the END button on the cell.
Walt was almost bursting with the effort of being quiet while the phone was open. Now he puckishly started counting. “One, Two, Three...” He almost made it to ten when the phone started ringing.
With her face screwed up in mirth, Bettye squeaked, “You’re not going to answer that are you?”
“Not for a thousand dollars will I talk to that cheating, diseased, whore ever again.”
The next few weeks were uneventful. Judy finally gave up trying to talk to him. She even knocked on Bettye and Walt’s door and was told to go away and, if she came back, they would call the sheriff.
Bettye was a real asset with her contacts in the County Health Department. Naturally she had to be super careful because of the privacy rules around this area. Her friends in ER knew of Paul and Judy’s situation, so a few critical documents were left in the Xerox machine or carelessly on a desk-top for Paul’s benefit.
Through Bettye Paul found out that Judy had sex with in 38 men the 18 months prior to her contracting the clap and passing it on to him. The disheartening thing was that he was totally in the dark for that whole time. Doing the math in his head, that worked out to about one fuck every two weeks. More if she fucked a guy more than once. “No wonder she wasn’t that interested in fucking me! But, what knocked me back was that 18 months, son-of-a-bitch!! We’ve only been married nine months!! I’m having a problem even processing that bit of information. She started fucking strangers right after her father died. Could there be a connection??”
Paul found a real shark of a lawyer through Walt’s divorced friends. Corrine Eastman was the best. Walt told me Corrine started out in the divorce game because she fully believed she was going to protect poor wives who had cheating husbands that were spending money on mistresses to the detriment of the family. In the real world, the facts were not so clear cut. Oh, there were a good percentage of asshole husbands that fit in that pigeon-hole. She delighted in reaming them with max alimony and child support to the point most in this situation had to take a second job to stay out of deadbeat Dads jail time.
The big surprise was she found that there were just as many cheating wives as husbands who were cheerfully fucking boyfriends on the side while hubby was working overtime to pay for private schools, orthodontic work, and satisfying the cheating wife’s appetite for expensive clothes, private trainers (who were also giving wifey a good screwing when requested), and other non-necessities.
Corrine came to realize extra-marital activity was not gender-specific. So, when Paul laid out the facts of his situation, Corrine was very willing to be his champion in the court room. Unfortunately for Paul, as good as she was, she could not influence which judge that was assigned to Paul’s case. In the luck of the draw, Paul came up with a busted flush in Judge Madelene Worth. She was known behind her back by many lawyers as Judge Worth-less. According to her theory, that was based on nothing but her opinion since she had never married and had done no empirical research to support her theory that no marriage was so broke that a good marriage counselor couldn’t fix it. The statistical facts did nothing to dissuade her from her position.
Paul and Corrine were not surprised or discouraged when Judge Worth-less ordered ten sessions of marriage counseling before she would approve dissolution of the dead marriage.
As they were planning their next move over a latte at Starbucks in the courthouse, Corrine told Paul there was really nothing to do but attend the ten sessions, or the judge could put him in jail until he agreed with the court ordered counselling. On a possible bright note, she told Paul she knew of a licensed counsellor whose reputation was so stellar that if, even before the ten sessions, this counsellor informed the judge there was no possibility of reconciliation, the judge might waive the full ten sessions.
Paul was not optimistic, but he did ask Corrine if she could set up an appoint with this miracle worker. A few days later, Corrine’s office called Paul with an appointment with Dr. Astrid Mulvaney, the following Wednesday at 9:00AM. That evening Paul took Bettye and Walt out to dinner at a small, quiet Italian restaurant. Over an excellent meal, Paul brought them up to speed on his efforts to get shed of the whoring bitch. Bettye jokingly asked, “Which whoring bitch would that be, Paul?” That quip brought a chuckle out of Paul and Walt.
When Paul told his friends about the appointment with Dr. Mulvaney, Bettye spoke up that she knew Astrid from the University and that she was a CHI OMEGA sorority sorority sister of hers. She got a sort of dreamy look as if she was remembering those days of intellectual growth and sexual freedom. “Oh yes,” she said she remembered Astrid well. “Paul, do you have her number? I want to give her a call tomorrow.”