God knows, it’s been decades since I’ve believed that Karl was faithful to me. For all he’d claimed that his vasectomy was to “take the burden off me,” he hadn’t minded putting the burden of contraception on me back when we were having more frequent intercourse. I suspected then that some mistress had given him a scare.

But the last straw was when I figured out that he was enjoying his doxies in my bed. I hired a detective. Porter shadowed Karl and a student to our house, but told me that this wasn’t sufficient evidence. Since it was my house, I could grant him legal access. And we knew times the house would be empty. Karl, however undependable with regard to his marital vows, can be depended on to meet his classes.

Porter planted the TV camera in my bedroom. He explained that sound was not necessary in court and was more expensive. I wasn’t interested in hearing Karl talk to his slut; I’d heard enough of Karl’s talk -- more than enough -- in our marriage. Motion sensors would turn on the camera which would automatically record date and time. I retrieved the tapes. The first few recorded only me and Karl. Since I could reuse those tapes without anyone else seeing them, I lost all modesty about undressing before the hidden camera.