Chapter 2

Sunday morning, June 21

I just finished reading Tammy’s version of Saturday night. So much to digest all at one time; Tammy masturbating thinking of Ian? I’d never seen, nor known her to play with herself. Obviously, she hadn’t been the ‘sweet, innocent girl’ I thought I’d taken home to my parents, either, and this date next Friday ... how the hell am I going to act ‘normal’ the next week, whatever the hell normal is any more.

And Mia ... seriously? I couldn’t even imagine. Of course, yesterday afternoon I wouldn’t have imagined that little ‘five minutes in heaven’ or even their ‘fashion show’! This whole thing is just fucking blowing my mind!

How damned infatuated is Tammy with this guy, Ian, Ian Dixon? That’s what she’d written for his whole name. I had a thought, not that that happens often, but it just popped into my head at that moment. I looked up Ian Dixon on Google. There are lots of Ian Dixons, even a professional football player. I clicked on the Wikipedia Ian Dixon.

Born September 19^th, 1989, Sydney Australia. This had to be the guy, thirty-three years old, six years older than Tammy. If she was twenty when she was with him, and I realized I had no idea exactly when this all occurred, how old she’d been, he’d have been twenty-six, an ‘older man’. I stared at his picture, blond hair just to his shoulders, fucking good-looking! No damn wonder Tammy’s so taken with him. Plus, apparently, she likes his ‘sexy’ Australian accent.

I kept reading; he’s an art aficionado, owns a gallery in Sydney, another in London, one in Paris ... and for whatever reason, one in Laramie, Wyoming. Why? What the hell does Laramie, Wyoming have in common with Sydney, London, or Paris? Tammy couldn’t have been the reason, he already owned it when she met him. There’s no doubt, this is the guy. From what Wikipedia says, although it doesn’t suggest any numbers, this guy must be ultra-wealthy. Hell, he owns a Rembrandt in his Paris gallery!

I wondered how much of that Tammy knows. The article doesn’t say anything about him being married but just guessing, I’d bet everything I own that there’s more than one ‘Tammy’ in his life, too.

And what’s he doing in Laramie right now? It sounds like he has a lavish home in Sydney, overlooking the Pacific, although there’s no picture, probably because of security.

I’ll admit it scares the shit out of me that a guy like that could have his sights set on my wife. Is it possible he’s here for the express purpose of taking Tammy with him back to Australia? Even a married Tammy? The more I thought about that, the more it scared me. If that is his game, he’s not going to succeed, though. I know how Tammy loves me, she even said as much in her ‘diary’ over and over again. Fucking him is one thing, but sex alone just ain’t gonna cut it to get her to abandon everything and everyone she loves.

If I was to confront her with everything I know and demand she drop any thoughts of this guy, how would she react? My fear is that it would be with anger, probably spreading to both of us, a damned good chance of creating an impenetrable wall between us that could take a long time to heal, if ever. No, it seemed to me that the best course is to do nothing and hope that this little (maybe not so little) infatuation will play itself out, that Ian Dixon will return to Australia, leaving behind a perpetually horny Tammy Clark.

It just was going to take a hell of a lot of nerve. My right brain has been in a losing battle, trying to make me use just an iota of common sense. ‘This is a disaster in the making,’ it’s been trying to tell me, with my left brain saying (and winning the argument), ‘Yeah, but so what, so is jumping out of an airplane into a ten-foot diameter, six-foot deep pool of water.’

And all of that was rambling bullshit! One purpose and one purpose only, to rationalize the fact that I wanted my wife to meet this guy, Ian, Friday. No way in hell was I going to do something to jeopardize that. The right brain can just go back to sleep like it always does.

I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind until Tammy got home with zero success. There was one thing right brain was right about, ‘get the hell out of Tammy’s laptop!’ I felt lucky that I hadn’t already been caught as it had been nearly two hours since she’d left with Mia’s car. I originally had planned on putting everything back within forty minutes, twenty minutes each way.

I had just come back downstairs from getting it put away when Tammy came in through the garage door. By then, I was thinking back to what Tammy had said to Mia, wondering if, in the short future, the unthinkable might come to pass. Damn, that thought just kept bombarding me with the what-ifs.

Which meant that my dick was extremely hard when Tammy came in the house, alone. A few minutes later I was sitting on a dining chair, naked, the recipient of a very enticing and hot Tammy Clark striptease and lap dance just before sinking her wet pussy down onto my steel rod, all of it another very pleasant first. Left brain two (and counting), right brain still zero (but voicing its objections even more vociferously).

The next days at work were something out of the Twilight Zone that I’d never even imagined before. Somehow, designing a street sewer line isn’t exactly the kind of mind-consuming task that I needed to take my mind off my wife and Friday night or Mia, either, for that matter. I was a friggin’ nervous wreck!

Tuesday I couldn’t stand it any longer. At noon I told the Public Works Director, my boss, that I had a splitting headache and needed to go home. It was half true, anyway, I needed to go home. I’d seen Tammy writing on her laptop and needed to see what it was.

June 23

I am scared, nervous, just about every other adjective one can think of. I know what’s going to happen Friday night. I still haven’t thought of an excuse to tell Jason where I’m going, something that won’t make him suspicious.

Speaking of Jason, it seems like he’s been acting a little bit weird lately, or maybe it’s just me with my guilty conscience. It seems like he can’t take his eyes off of me, and we’ve never had the kind of sex as the last few days. I guess a lot of it has been me, like after coming home from taking Mia’s car home to her Sunday, doing a strip tease for my husband, for God’s sake! That’s just not me. And then fucking him like I was some slut stripper in a back room? But, oh my, it was fun!

And then Monday morning, Jason surprised me in the shower, worshipping my body, and we fucked again. When was the last time we did THAT? That one was on him, but I hope we do it a lot more from now on, a LOT of things more. I wonder how many times Ian and I fucked in the shower. I’m guessing that’ll be on his agenda Friday, too, as much as we used to enjoy it. My pussy is soaked right now, just thinking about it.

Ian’s a take-charge kind of guy, and that always used to turn me on so much, not having any idea what we were doing next – like getting finger fucked on the dance floor Saturday. Or back then, when we played strip poker with his friends, went fucking skinny dipping in a public pool for God’s sake (or was it skinny dipping fucking?) Either way, it was fun! It seemed like if his cock wasn’t inside me, he was finger-fucking me. Like Saturday, in public. The man has no decency filter and I fucking love it!

Jason’s always been the opposite, worried about what I might want instead of just taking it, whatever ‘it’ might be. He acts like he loves me flirting with other guys, but I don’t think he’d like it so much if it got out of hand, like it did Saturday night. And one thing for sure, he’d never in a gazillion years finger fuck me in front of a crowd of people. That would be just too weird.

Except now, I’m not so sure of anything with him, and I like that, like fucking me in the shower yesterday morning. GO JASON!

Speaking of Jason, I haven’t dared to bring up my little suggestion with Mia again. I’ve been kind of hoping she’d bring it up. She’s probably afraid to, though, same as me now that we’re both sober and a little more rational. She probably thinks I might not even remember, that I’d get mad or something. Nothing could be further from the truth, I still want to watch Jason and Mia fucking. That little ‘five-minute’ thing Saturday before we left the house was just so fucking hot!

That was the end, quite an eye-opening little essay. Mia again, she hasn’t forgotten it. I still couldn’t wrap my head around that, how it might come about, what it would be like. All I knew was that I hoped to hell that Tammy got the courage to broach it with her again. My dick was hard just thinking about it.

And she thinks I’ve been weird. That’s a bit of a dilemma, if I change that pattern, she’ll get suspicious, and if I stay ‘weird’, she’ll get suspicious, too. I guess the only choice is to stay the course and act like I have been. Besides, it’s damn hard to not watch her, thinking of her with this guy she intends to fuck, and even harder changing our recent ‘fucking’ as she calls it. Don’t wanna change that anyway, I like it! What red-blooded guy with a pulse wouldn’t?

That night I ate my wife’s pussy for the first time since ... like everything else we’ve been doing lately, never. I blamed it on her Brazilian wax and it wasn’t stretching the truth much. I’d forgotten what a rush it is, and Tammy was so fucking animated. Then we did it doggy-style when neither of us could stand it any longer. If that raised her suspicion that I knew something was going on, then so be it, it was worth whatever!

Thursday, I feigned a headache again later in the afternoon, right before three. I told Tim that I didn’t know what was going on with me, that I was thinking of going to the doctor since I rarely had headaches.

My dick was already hard when I opened Tammy’s laptop and started reading.

The closer it gets, the colder feet I get. I know I’m going through with this, but the guilt of what I’m doing to Jason is killing me. What if he finds out? And what if I can’t stop after Friday? I’ve been thinking of what Mia started to tell me Saturday and it still doesn’t make any sense to me. She seemed to think there was some revelation in what I’d told her...

Oh shit, that was Tammy’s car that just drove into our garage. What the hell is she doing home so early? It didn’t matter, I closed the document I was in, slammed her laptop shut, and put it back on the coffee table where she’d put it, just in time as Tammy opened the door from the garage.

“You’re home? How come so early?” she asked me.

“Had a bad headache,” I told her, the same lie as I’d told Tim earlier. “Took some aspirins and laid down for a while, it’s a lot better now. What about you, you’re never home this early.” I hoped to hell that I didn’t have a guilty look on my face.

“Doc has a conference in Denver all day tomorrow, he closed the office so he could drive down today before it got too late, there wasn’t any point in me sticking around. It’s going to be closed tomorrow, too, so I’ll have the day off. Thought I’d mentioned that I’d be home early. Thinking about going to dinner with Mia tomorrow night.”

I shrugged, either she hadn’t said anything or I’d blown it off, not even realizing what she’d said. That happened more than I like to admit. It’s something I’m going to correct from now on though, that’s for damn sure. I was just thankful that I’d had at least enough warning to get out of her laptop. That alleged dinner with must be the excuse she thought of.

Tammy fixed us dinner, reheated the lasagna she’d made the night before. I love her homemade lasagna, one of my favorite all-time meals, even the leftovers. Then a bowl of vanilla ice cream for dessert, and we retired to the living room to watch a movie. Actually, it was a Netflix series, ‘MA’ rated, ‘A Sexy Life’. Somehow, slightly raunchy television had invaded our life along with everything else. This was only the second episode and it was sexy as hell, just the kind of thing we’d been enjoying lately.

About five minutes into it, Tammy opened her laptop, like she often does while watching TV. Unlike me, she’s very good at multitasking. About half a minute later, something was definitely wrong, her face suddenly turned white, like every drop of blood had drained, and her body began shaking, almost uncontrollably.

About three seconds later, when I realized what I’d done, the same thing happened to me, the blood draining from my face. I hadn’t had time to hide the fact that I’d opened her document!

She looked over at me, ignoring the TV, her face in total anguish, “You’ve been ... you’ve been on my laptop today ... you’ve seen...”

I felt my world come instantly crashing down! I’d been invading my wife’s privacy and now she suddenly knew it. “I ... I...” Hell, I had no idea what to say.

Suddenly, tears were streaming down Tammy’s face. In all our years, I’d never seen her like this. “You know ... Ian ... how much?” Her voice was nearly nonexistent, barely legible, nothing but an anguished cry.

“All of it,” I said, realizing how difficult it is to speak when your brain has decided to leave the room, leaving you to your fate, defenseless.

She burst into tears, not just the tears of a moment ago but outright sobbing. I had no idea what to do, I was to blame. The thought that it was her because she’d been discovered, her lover, never even entered what mind I had left. I don’t know how long Tammy sat there sobbing her heart out. I got up and found some tissues, handing them to her. She wiped her face, trying to get herself in control. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” she started, making the effort to speak coherently, “I never ... wanted to hurt you...” her tears flowing.

“Hon...” I wanted to say something, comfort her.

“I’ll call him ... now ... cancel ... I just can’t...” reaching for her phone, dropping it on the floor, and she burst into tears again.

I was crying too, afraid for my wife, for our marriage, everything. Damn, damn, damn! I should have listened to myself, and confronted her about Ian a long time ago, as soon as I read his name, even before then, let her know that I knew. Either that or kept the hell out of her privacy.

Another couple excruciating minutes went by with Tammy crying. She wiped her face again, getting herself under control, “Hand me my phone, I’ll call him now, right now, cancel tomorrow, and tell him I can’t ever see him again.”

Tammy’s phone was on the floor, I got up to retrieve it, giving me a few seconds to think, to throw our world for another giant loop. By the time I’d gotten it out from under the couch where it had somehow hidden itself, she’d gotten herself somewhat under control but still tears falling, “No ... I don’t want you to call him ... don’t cancel. I’ve read all of it, and Mia knew. She was right, Saturday night, she started to tell you...”