Thanks for selecting my latest story. There’s no sex, so if that’s what you’re looking to read you may be disappointed. All those reported to have engaged in sex are over 18.

A special thanks to my editors and beta readers. Any errors are all mine from final edits. Please feel free to comment at the end. I enjoy learning what the readers think.

Three Cheats to the Wind

I put in a lot of hours to be sure things were in order before my two-week vacation. I sat back in my desk chair and turned to admire the scenery through the window behind my desk when I heard the unmistakable sweet voice of my assistant.

“Well, Luc, are you ready for the big day?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, Melanie. It’s not like I haven’t done this before.”

“Make this one stick, would ya, boss? You don’t need to set a record for the most times married in a decade.”

I smiled. “You pickin’ on me?”

“Maybe a little. But you’re too good a guy to deal with all this sh ... damn, sorry ... crap you’ve gone through.”

“Call it what it is, Mel. It’s been a ton of bull.”

“Are you ready to take off? Is there anything you need me to cover?”

“No, I think we’ve gone over everything. Thanks for suggesting I take off after Wednesday for a Saturday wedding. Tonight I can just stop at the pub and relax before being buried in details this Thursday and Friday. I’m glad we’re keeping this wedding small.”

“So, will you report me to HR if your assistant gives you a big hug?”

“I never have before!”

Melanie had become one of my closest friends and has been very special to me since the day I hired her shortly after I accepted the position at Personal Wealth Financial nearly ten years ago. I’ll never forget when I interviewed her for her job. Her resume made her the top contender, but when she came into my office I observed a somewhat homely, skinny girl who seemed shy and reserved. It didn’t take long for me to notice the redness around her nose and slightly dark eyes. The poor girl was sick as a dog but still fought through to make her interview.

I was impressed enough to have her come back for a second interview. It was then that I met a real dynamo with personality overflowing. True, she was not outwardly attractive. She was skinny as a rail and didn’t seem to have enough of a butt to hold her slacks up. Yet I learned she was full of confidence and personality, and she exuded a beauty some of the prettiest girls I knew could learn from. Her husband was a lucky man.

*****

I decided to kick back for a few hours at my favorite pub near my home in Kirkland, Washington, and grab a light dinner. Kaylee, the bartender, has filled many roles for me over the years. Her lovely red hair framed the rugged face of the woman who was my second mom, confidant, sounding board, and caring friend. When she was young, I’m sure she was fairly attractive, but hard living and smoking had taken its toll on her late-forties features. But she was a beautiful person to me, she had seen me at my worst and always seemed to have the right words when I needed them.

The pub was sparsely filled and had the familiar smell of fried food and the atmosphere of raw emotions being soothed. As I sauntered up to the bar, Kaylee looked toward me and smiled.

“Mr. ‘Three Cheats to the Wind!’ How’s my favorite customer?”

“Better than I deserve, Kaylee. Are you still chained to that man of yours or are you ready to run off with me?”

“What, and ruin the big day this Saturday for your lovely bride? So, the usual, Luc?”

“Yep.”

As Kaylee scurried off to the tap, I noticed an attractive woman seated alone three stools down from me. I guessed that she was approaching something north of thirty-five. She was biting her lower lip and sporting a slight grin that seemed to result from my banter with Kaylee. I decided to be neighborly and greet her.

“Hi.”

Her forehead creased and suspicious eyes glared as she took stock of me. “You don’t look drunk.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s the most interesting greeting anyone has ever thrown my way. No, I’m not drunk.”

“The bartender said you were three sheets to the wind. I assumed that meant she thought you were drunk.”

“Oh,” I chuckled. “That’s her nickname for me, but it’s not three sheets. It’s three cheats.”

“Great. Another guy who can’t keep it in his pants.”

She seemed to bite down on her lip a little harder and the scowl on her face told me this was personal to her. Just as I was about to speak, Kaylee placed my beer in front of me and came to my rescue.

“Lady, Luc here is one of the nicest and most faithful men I’ve ever met. He wasn’t the cheater.”

Sadness clouded her face and her lips quivered. “Sorry.”

I was pretty sure tears were close to making their appearance so I nervously stuck out my hand to greet her hoping to avoid the emotional flow that seemed imminent.

“No problem. I’m Luc.”

She gave my hand a quick frantic handshake as if she were afraid of human contact.

“No, I am sorry. I guess you can call me Been-cheated-on-too-many-times-to-count or Linda for short.”

“Glad to meet you, Linda-for-Short. Sorry. Sore subject?”

Her mood lightened considerably with my stupid joke. I hate making a woman cry and the change in her disposition was a welcomed development.

“True. But something tells me your three-cheat experience has quite a story behind it.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I’m not sure you want to hear about it.”

“Go on, Luc. Tell her your story,” Kaylee interjected. “It’s fascinating.”

Linda pretend-pouted at me. “Please?”

“You two aren’t going to give me a choice, are you?”

“Nope,” they replied in unison.

“Okay, okay. Let’s see, where should I start?”

Harper

Life doesn’t always turn out the way we expect. I knew my marriage was over well before our first anniversary. Funny thing is, I wasn’t all that upset by the end of the marriage, but my confidence had taken a beating.

I first dated Harper during our senior year of high school. I was an eighteen-year-old virgin, and she was also eighteen and far from pure. I didn’t really seek her out, but we were thrust together. I should have declined, but my little head beat my big head for that decision. My teammates cornered me in the locker room after a game.

“Luc, when are you gonna quit hangin’ with the blimp and get a girl worthy of our quarterback?”

“Chuck, you talk about Aubrey like that again and I’ll lay you out. She’s not a blimp, just a little cushy. But I like her and, even though we’re not dating, she’s my best friend.”

“Fine, but you need a real girl that puts out. We gotta get that cherry of yours busted.”

“I don’t need your help getting laid. Back off!”

Ted stepped in to calm me down. “Hey, Luc, sorry. It’s just, well, Harper was telling my girlfriend that she’d really like to get with you.”

“Harper may be gorgeous, but she likes getting with anyone that wears pants. That’s not what I’m after.”

“She’s not really like that. She’s nice and she has a thing for you. Come to my party tomorrow night. She’ll be there. Just see if there’s some chemistry. What can it hurt?”

The guys were really cruel when it came to my friend, Aubrey. She wasn’t the sleek, bone-thin model type, but she was exactly what I liked. She had a “girl-next-door” wholesome face that I knew would stay gorgeous even into middle age and beyond. We didn’t really date, but you couldn’t tell the difference because we were always together. Truth is, I found her exceptionally beautiful both outside and inside. If I had my way, I’d want us to be each other’s first lover, but she had a moral core I admired and I tried to emulate it. We grew up in the church together and I wanted to be faithful to my faith. Unfortunately those damn hormones of a teenage boy were crumbling the weak defenses I’d built around my chastity.

Face it ... I wanted to get laid.

At Ted’s party, Harper sought me out like a heat-seeking missile latching onto its target.

“Luc! Ted said you’d be here.”

“Hey, Harper. You’re lookin’ good.”

“Good enough to eat?”

“Uh, well, I don’t...”

“Relax, Luc. I’m just messin’ with ya.”

She wasn’t messin’ with me. We were playing tonsil hockey within the hour, and before the night was half over my sexual expertise had changed on many levels. I was firmly in a state of lust.

Aubrey knew right away. She seemed hurt but resigned herself to my decent into the dark side. Several weeks later she started dating Dennis, the center from our team. Knowing Aubrey would take things slow, I teased them both that, as quarterback, I had my hands in Dennis’ crotch more than Aubrey. She was not amused, and Dennis told me to cool it. I apologized to them both and felt rather sheepish afterwards. The way they called me out made me ashamed of my changing attitudes, but, after all, I was a dumb teenage boy.

I started to drift from Aubrey and Dennis. In hindsight, I was living in a darkness that made the light surrounding them uncomfortable for me. I wanted to have fun, and being near them was dampening my enjoyment.

Harper and I dated and explored one another for the remainder of the school year and the following summer. I loved our sexual relationship. She was hot and knew how to use her well-developed talents. She was also easy to talk with and we found we had a lot of common interests and views. After several months of sexual bliss, I started falling for her.

In the fall, Harper planned to attend Washington State while I was on my way to Indiana to study at Purdue on a football scholarship. As much as I was growing to love her, I knew long distance would be tough for us both. We agreed not to be exclusive and to get together whenever we were both home.

My hormones and party instincts ruled my life for the first two years of college. True to our word, Harper and I hooked up when we were home. We never discussed what happened when we were apart, and that seemed to be wise on both our part. I found I was measuring every girl I got with in college against Harper, and none of them made the grade. I was missing her more and more and couldn’t wait until I saw her again. I started calling her more frequently and I sensed she was feeling the same way I did. My love for her was growing even though we were separated by thousands of miles.

Some level of maturity and responsibility kicked in around my junior year. The values I was taught as a kid were flooding my conscience, and I was tired of the emptiness that seemed to be a part of my promiscuous lifestyle. From that point on I was only intimate with Harper and I starting thinking of how to propose.

The summer prior to our senior year, I needed to see where Harper’s head was regarding our relationship.

“Baby, can we talk about something?”

“Sure, Luc. Are you okay? You’re looking kinda serious.”

“Well, I am. I’ve been thinking a lot and, I guess the first two years of college I was ... well ... a bit wild with the girls. I always loved you and knew we’d be together again, but ... I was horny and girls were so ... sorta ... available. Were you the same with guys?”

“I ... I hooked up a few times for fun, but I always wished it was with you. I mean, no one else could compare, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know. I figured you were gettin with guys, and that’s okay. It’s what we agreed on. But this year for me was different. It started to feel like I was cheating and I realized I wanted to be a one-woman-man with you. I wanted you to know that I haven’t as much as kissed a girl since we were together last summer. I’m hoping, maybe, that you could promise me you feel the same way.”

“I only love you, Luc.”

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would ... I mean ... will you marry me?”

Harper jumped into my lap and bounced up and down, shouting, “Yes, yes, yes...”

We made love, and then laid next to each other and started sharing our dreams for our life together. Suddenly, she sat up with a concerned look on her face. “You don’t want to get married now before our senior year, do you?”

“No. Maybe a few months after we graduate.”

Harper seemed relieved by that. I assumed she was thinking of what would be practical, but it still bothered me a little. I also realized I never really did get an answer regarding her more recent faithfulness, yet she waved some magic wand that made me believe she was true only to me. It was a minor thorn in my mind at that point, but it came back to haunt me.

After graduation, Harper got a job with a real estate firm while I started my career at Personal Wealth Financial Planning. We were married in December that same year, and I thought I was happy. I was determined to go back to the faith I had growing up, but it became obvious that Harper had no interest in spiritual matters. I quickly realized that living with someone gives you a whole lot more insight into what they are really like.

Harper talked me into cutting short our honeymoon in California wine country so we could attend a New Year’s Eve party with a lot of her friends, most of whom she knew from college. I hardly saw my new bride all night. The party was at a dance hall all of us had chipped in to rent. Harper flitted around the room gabbing with everyone. On occasion, I had no idea where she was. Several of her girlfriends kept me busy, almost like it was their assignment for the night.

I had to carry a passed-out Harper to the car and into our apartment. She was very attentive and apologetic for her behavior at the party, so I let it slide. But over the following year, things built up in my mind that I couldn’t come to grips with. She had lots of evening appointments, she was less than forthcoming on the details of her work and her life, and I felt at times like her friends took top position in her list of priorities. How could I be married for less than a year, and yet still feel so alone?

A year passed, and it was time for another New Year’s Eve bash at the same venue. I really didn’t want to go, but I also felt obligated to see what Harper did when she was alone with her friends. I figured I had a better chance of seeing the real Harper if she didn’t think I was there, so I begged off at the last minute claiming an upset stomach. Harper almost seemed relieved that I was staying home.

I let the party go on for a few hours, and then showed up at about ten. I tried to stay out of sight once I arrived. It didn’t take me long to see Harper across the room. She had a group of six guys standing around her and all were taking turns giving her heavy, passionate kisses. Then I saw her drag one of them by the hand into a hallway that went to small practice rooms for the dance classes. The others were hanging back, giving each other high-fives, and looking very much like they were standing in a waiting line. I stood there a little while wondering what to do, and determined I had to see what was going to happen.

I marched across the room, but I didn’t escape the notice of Harper’s friend, Amy.

“Luc! Harper said you were home sick.”

“Outta my way, Amy.”

“Luc, please, don’t go back there.”

I grabbed her by the arms and looked her square in the eyes. “Why? What will I see?”

Amy started to tremble in fear. She could see the anger building in me and I did little to hide it.

“Luc, you won’t like it. Please, don’t. She really does love you.”

I pushed her aside and went after my wife. There, in the practice room, was my wife making out and starting to get undressed with the guy she dragged willingly to the room. I wanted to barge in and go all “Chuck Norris” on them. Instead, without being noticed I snapped a few pictures on my phone and left to go home.

Once in the apartment, I printed one of the pictures and left it on the table with my wedding ring. I packed enough clothing for a week and went to the Holiday Inn.

It was weird. I sat in the room feeling like I was supposed to cry or to lash out in anger. Instead, it felt more like I finally had answers to all those questions that had been building in my mind.

I kept her in the dark for a few days while I took the time to find a small furnished apartment, then called to arrange to come over so we could talk.

“Luc! Where the hell are you? How could you just leave like that?”

“I’ll be over tonight to talk.”

“Luc, please. I’m sorry for what you saw. It was...”

“Shut up, Harper. We’ll talk tonight. I’ll be there at seven.”

I hung up and searched for some kind of emotion to grasp. Emptiness certainly rushed in. A bit of anger and a healthy dose of ego damage was flooding in too, but I had an overwhelming sense of relief. Sure, I wasted a little over a year on her. Somehow my discovery of the real Harper was justifying what my growing suspicions were telling me—our relationship was never really right.

My mind went back to a conversation my dad and I had years ago. We were talking about love and relationships and I asked how I’d recognize when I’d found the right woman. His words now rang in my ears. “It’s different with everyone, but when you kiss her, maybe your knees will go weak, or perhaps you’ll feel a glow as if you were filled with electricity. Maybe it manifests itself in some other way, it doesn’t matter. You’ll know.”

I couldn’t remember feeling that type of confirmation with Haley. Sure, our kisses were filled with heat, but I now recognized that was purely physical. I never sensed the real connection my dad talked about.

So, to my surprise, I was ... okay. I was still disappointed at her behavior, but I was coping just fine.

I walked into the apartment at seven without knocking. Harper sat at the kitchen table staring down at the damning picture and my ring.

Calmly and clearly resigned to the inevitable, she greeted me with the words that summed it all up.

“We’re through, aren’t we?”

I sat across from her. “Yes.”

“Aren’t you gonna scream or rant or something?”

“Why? Should I?”

“I would.”

“It seems I’ve finally seen the real you, Harper. And, truth be told, we’re not right for each other. Even more revealing, at least to me, is that I don’t think I ever really loved you the way people in a marriage should love each other. I don’t think you love me that way either. Let’s part, keep things civil, and move on. Okay?”

I was surprised she wasn’t more emotional. She just shrugged her shoulders, which clearly told me what she was thinking even more convincingly than her next words.

“I guess I wasn’t really ready to be married. I wanted to be ready. You’re the kind of guy I want to settle down with and I wanted to be the girl and wife that you wanted. I really did. You’re right. It’s just not me.”

Today Back at the Bar

Linda seemed deep in thought as I finished the Harper portion of my story.

“Wow. I guess you dodged a bullet when you realized the truth so early in your marriage. I didn’t figure out my marriage was a lie until our fourteenth year.”

“Wow. Don’t take this wrong because you’re really a beautiful woman, but I can see the pain in your face when you talk about it. I guess no matter how long it takes, learning the truth can hurt like hell, but at least you can move forward—maybe a little wiser.” With my elbow on the bar, I rested my head against my hand and looked into her eyes. “Something tells me I think I need to hear your story too.”

“I’m getting better, but, yeah, I’ll spill my tale sometime. But we’re only one cheat into your story and I gotta hear it all.”

“If you have to. It ends better than it started, so maybe that will offer you some encouragement.”

Linda looked away for a moment and appeared deep in thought.

“Do you still see Harper?”

“On occasion. She was diagnosed with MS not long after our divorce. It made her grow up fast. She’s holding up well and ended up marrying a nice guy. They seem to be good for each other.”

“You aren’t one of those guys who loves it when karma bites his ex in the ass, are you?”

“No, and certainly not like that. Getting sick or something like MS is not anything I’d wish on anyone. And I still have some good feelings for Harper. We really did end on good terms.”

“So who is number two?”

I had to chuckle. “Number two! Fitting description for how things went with Zoey.”

Zoey

I met Zoey at a party thrown for my old friends, Aubrey and Dennis. They had been married while still in college, and upon graduation Dennis took a position with a large manufacturing firm. At a very young age he was being promoted to V.P. of Finance and had to move to Dallas. All of their friends gathered at the Hyatt ballroom to wish them well on their move.

I was talking with a friend when Zoey entered the party. She was, in a word, stunning. The room seemed to light up when she waltzed in with an air of glamor and grace. I later learned her photo had been on the cover of Maxim about a year earlier.

Almost every man at the party was there with his wife. Then, the funniest thing happened. The wisest general in the army couldn’t have organized a quicker or more effective defense than the maneuver the wives launched in that moment. Almost every man was physically pulled into a serious conversation with their spouse. I was one of three single men remaining, and Zoey quickly cast her hungry gaze in my direction. I watched her purposely mosey my way and I was instantly afraid that the stirring in my loins would soon be obvious.

“Hi. I’m Zoey. Am I imagining things, or did about twenty women just demonstrate their claim on their men?”

“I don’t think it was your imagination. I’m Luc, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Luc. I guess I’m a threat. You don’t seem to have a ball and chain protecting you.”

“No, my chain was broken a few months ago. And, yes, you’re a threat. You gotta know how gorgeous you are.”

“Thanks, but you’re damn gorgeous yourself.”

“Well, shall we spend some time admiring each other’s gorgeousness?”

Oh, damn, her laugh was amazing.

“I like you, Luc. You’re funny. So maybe we should just hang and get to know each other.”

And hang, we did. She was bright and engaging. We talked with great ease and I was hooked. She seemed into me as well.

The party was breaking up and Zoey and I set a date for the next evening. She left the room first, which gave me time to pay attention to Aubrey and Dennis. Aubrey was still the wholesomely beautiful girl I knew in high school. She still wasn’t thin, but to me she was still perfect. As I walked over, she greeted me with a bit of a scowl.

“Hey, Casanova. Did Zoey get her hooks in you?”

“We sorta hit it off. Why?”

“Be careful. You know Dennis and I care a lot about you, and we don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“She seems harmless, and I really like her.”

“Luc, I love you, my friend. Open your eyes. You’re repeating a pattern here.”

I was a little upset with Aubrey’s chastisement. How could she assume I didn’t know what I was doing?

“I’ll be fine. I mean, we just met. I’m not walking down the aisle yet.”

“Okay. I mean, she’s smart and successful so she has a lot going for her. Just promise to keep your eyes open. Please, guard your heart. It’s a good heart and you’re a great guy. You need to find a woman who is worthy of you.”

I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t. I wanted to say, “I found that woman, but I let you go.”

Zoey and I didn’t waste any time. We seemed to be in sync on all the major issues of life. It wasn’t long before we were intimate, and six months after we met we were married. I was clear with her that faithfulness was high on my list of priorities, and she gave me every indication she felt the same way. She seemed to share the same commitment I had to faith, so I assumed we had what it took to last a lifetime.

She owned a small modeling agency and she focused on being sure to have a good work/life balance. Our home life was warm and rewarding. Our sex life was off-the-charts fantastic. Zoey never gave me cause to question her commitment to monogamy.

After three years of marital bliss, we started discussing having children. She seemed excited by the prospect, but I noticed she never really took the steps needed to get pregnant such as going off the pill even though she had agreed she would.

Then I faced one of the most horrible days of my life.

Aubrey called my office on a Monday morning and told me Dennis was diagnosed with leukemia. She tried to sound upbeat, but I knew my friend too well. She was covering up intense fear and a strong wave of depression. Up to that point we usually talked by phone about once a month, and I resolved to step that up to weekly. She was thousands of miles away, but my friend needed me.

I was dealing with that news when another good friend, my personal assistant Melanie, walked softly into my office and closed the door. Her face was flushed and eyes red as if she’d been crying, and I assumed by her appearance that she heard about Dennis and Aubrey. I was wrong.

“Luc, you know I love you and would never want to hurt you, right?”

“Mel, you’re scaring me. What’s up?”

“I fretted all weekend about this, but you need to know. My husband and I had dinner and went dancing to celebrate our anniversary on Saturday. We went to the jazz club downtown, and...”

She started crying. My mind raced trying to guess what she was going to tell me. Then it hit me. Zoey was supposed to be in a partners meeting Saturday in Portland and she stayed the night.

“What, Mel?”

“Your wife was there with some guy, and they ... well ... I took some pics. Oh, God, I’m sorry, Luc.”

The pics were pretty clear. Fondling under the table, grinding on the dance floor, and heavy kissing were clearly captured.

My tears flowed like the Snake River. First Dennis and Aubrey, and now Zoey. Melanie smothered me with hugs and apologies. I managed to calm down and thank her for telling me, and I apologized for Zoey ruining their weekend.

Mel forwarded the pics to me, and I printed the more graphic ones for use that evening. I recognized the guy as one of the models Zoey managed.

I stopped at the pub on the way home to drink some courage for the confrontation. Kaylee was great at helping me calm down. A couple of my friends from football days were there as well. I didn’t know it at the time, but two of them launched a plan to teach Zoey’s lover a lesson. I later learned they had tracked him down and beat the hell outta the guy. I kinda wished they didn’t, and yet I felt lots of guilt about secretly feeling kinda glad they did.

Waiting for Zoey to get home seemed to drag on for eternity. My stomach churned. My mind kept shifting gears between anger, hate, regret, thoughts of forgiveness, and pain. When she finally waltzed in, I was seated at the dining room table with my exhibits ready to present.

She entered the room all cheery and sweet. “Hi, babe!” She came over to give me a kiss and I pushed her away.

“Sit down. Now!”

She sat so quickly she almost missed the chair.

“Luc, why are you talking to me like that?”

“I don’t know.” One by one I placed the photos on the table. “Is there some other way I should talk to you?”

She glanced at the first and immediately turned white. Her tears fell freely and would have melted me a day earlier. Now they just pissed me off.

“So what part of faithful didn’t you understand?”

“Luc, I...”

“WHAT! What are you gonna say? It’s just sex? It means nothing? You only love me? What can you possibly say that is gonna get you unscrewed?”

“Please, don’t hate me. Take a few days and cool off. I’ll never...”

“Never what? Never do it again? How often have you done it with this guy? How about other guys? What was it about my feelings regarding faithfulness you didn’t understand?”

“You just don’t understand a woman like me.”

“Understand?” My rage was boiling. From the back of her neck I pulled her face within inches of mine and yelled at the top of my lungs. “I completely understand what you are. I’d call you a pig, but that’s an insult to swine. You had me fooled, didn’t you? I’m sure you and your boy loved talkin’ about me while he was stealing you from me.”

I roughly pushed her away because I was afraid of what I might do. I could see the fear in her eyes and it both pleased me and scared me. I couldn’t look at her face anymore so I turned my back to her so I could gather the strength to speak more calmly.

“I guess I’ll never understand a liar or a cheater. You really had me fooled. Where’s your moral compass? You’ve betrayed me and everything I thought we had. I didn’t think I could be hurt this badly, but congratulations. You’ve managed to destroy me. I can never trust you again. I think I understand exactly what you are. I want you outta this house tonight. My lawyer is drafting the divorce paperwork now. The prenup is in effect. You managed to screw yourself on that. You have a half hour. Get out and we’ll talk by text about you getting the rest of your stuff.”