Chapter 1

I did my best to neglect the strange feeling I had got during the last weekend when I had sex with my Lola, my wife since 15 years. Something had been different, but I couldn't say what. Though we did as we used to do during the weekends, there was something different.

I got the same feeling even the next Wednesday when Lola and I had a "quickie". I really did my best to find out what it was but could see anything new, unusual or strange neither in the bedroom nor with Lola. But the feeling was still there. It was a real mystery and I decided to find out what it was.

The strangest fact in the whole matter was that the feeling got stronger when Lola and I was making love and then almost faded away when we rested afterwards. No doubt that it was Lola who caused me to feel it.

Of course, there could be some very simple explanation to the whole matter why I decided to ask her if she had done something to herself, which she had regarded so unimportant that she didn't care to tell me about it. I asked her about it the next evening when our two kids were watching some pop program in the TV room and Lola and I sat in the living room reading the newspapers.

"Have you got some problems at your job or somewhere because you've been so different in a strange way during the last week?"

For a split second I noted an expression of fear in her face before she began to laugh and asked me, "What gives you such a stupid idea?"

Now I understood that there really was something which bothered her, why I continued, "Isn't better that you'll tell me if there is something? Two can solve a problem better than one, and sooner or later I will know it anyway."

Once again a glimpse in her face told me a different thing than her mouth when she said, "If I had got a problem, I had told you. Haven't we always shared our problems?"

"Yes, and I hope we'll always do that."

"Of course."

We ended the conversation, but I knew for sure that something wasn't really as it used to be with her. My first thought was that she had been involved in some kind of economic problems she didn't wanted to tell me. She could hardly been into any gambling but maybe done some stupid investment, which gone wrong. Or she could give a loan to somebody who couldn't pay back.

All our bank accounts can be checked via a safe Internet connection and when she went to bed before me, I checked them all. But everything was OK, which got me feeling very bad. Because if it wasn't because money, the next thing to suspect was something I always had thought only could happen to my friends and acquaintances but never to me. One thing was for sure; I had to find out the truth.

Lola and I, Tommy Johnson, had been married for fifteen years in what at least I regarded as a happy marriage. Lola had never said otherwise, why I was convinced that even she agreed about that. We had two nice kids, a twelve years old boy Liam and Lina, a girl who was ten, we had a nice home in a Scandinavian county capital, pleasant social life with friends and relatives, fair jobs and no economic problems.

No serious quarrels so far during our marriage and much less minor quarrels than most of our friends. Therefore it hit me as a lightening from a clear blue sky when I understood that one of the remaining possible explanations to my strange feeling could be that she was cheating on me, especially because the feeling first appeared during our love making. One possible explanation was that she had felt guilt in some way that she couldn't hide to a hundred per cent. The main question from now on was why in the hell she had done that to me and with whom?

The next day was a Friday and I began my "ghost lover hunting" with a visit at an electronic store. The shop assistant was a man in my age and I told him why I needed something. He suggested two units of a new model of a small sized Japanese sound operated digital voice recorder with a capacity of 24 hours. Not cheap, but useful things and the reason for two was that I could take my time for listening to one while the other was in action. The recorder was in the first hand for her car, which I used to wash and clean on Saturdays. Even I wasn't so stupid that I expected her to fuck in her small Toyota Yaris, but it was her private area where she could talk in her cell phone without anybody listening.

Then at the same Friday evening some unknown man in China gave me the next clue. While reading the evening tabloid newspaper I noted a short notice about a Chinese husband who had found his wife with a lover and cut off the lover's penis. I read it for Lola and told her, "I will never shop his penis if I'll ever find out that you have a lover, only crush his balls, that's for sure."

Once again she got the split second long glimpse of fear in her face when she shouted, "Do you suspect me to have a lover?"

"Why did you get so upset? Didn't I say IF I'd find a lover, not WHEN I'll find your lover?"

Now she screamed, "Because you are accusing me for cheating and got totally insane."

"No, I'm not accusing you for anything but I'm surprised for your overreaction for my promise to punish some damn pussy-hound if I catch him between your legs. Haven't you always said that cheating assholes ought to be punished?"

She rushed out from the room without any further comment and I understood that I could forget all thought about fucking her during that weekend.

Lola was classy woman. She had a habit to always be well dressed in a feminine touch but not sexy in whorish way. At 39 she still was one of the most handsome women at the manufacturing company office where she worked. However, the time sets its tracks and though several of the younger girls there were more beautiful they hadn't Lola's appeal. She still used to be the most danced lady at their company parties. Her other qualifications were a quick mind and an ability to speak well at the meetings, why she had got promoted and nowadays did slight more money than I.

The most strange fact in our present problems was that Lola had always hated adultery and skipped all connections on family level with one of my best friends who took his wife back two months after she had left him for a soccer star. Lola refused to regard the poor cuckolded nice guy as anything else than a disgusting wimp.

I knew that I had fell in a damn trap and only bad ways could lead me out from it. The worst way was that I found her lover, got him severely beaten, got into jail, lost Lola and the kids. The next bad solution was that I found the guy, persuaded Lola to skip their relation and forgive her. That wasn't much better because she would regard me weak and probably thereafter even treat me as a poor wimp.

The less bad way out from the problem was to get Lola to skip her lover before I found him and pretend that there had never been any problems. But would I feel like man after taking such humiliation. Another serious complication was that Lola would hardly get involved in any cheating without having got in real love with that guy. If Lola had fell in love, one thing was for sure, she would do her best to keep him and if he was free even dump me and marry him.

Next morning I washed her car and cleaned it very carefully on the inside, which I didn't do every Saturday. Among the old parking tickets in the ashtray I found an old receipt from a gas station at the opposite end of the town. The only items she had bought there was a bottle of shower gel and a bottle of Cola. The receipt said that the purchase was done 12.10 at the Tuesday the week before this week. There are several shops between her job and our home so why in the hell did she drive in opposite direction during her lunch for getting such items. The shower gel was of a brand we didn't use at home. The only possible explanation was that she had needed it very soon at the same day. 8 km further that road was a budget priced motel where the rumors says that many marriages had ended. I guessed that in the near future mine was one of them if I succeed to find the "ghost-fucker" I was searching for.

Tuesday evening Lola tried to use humor for creating a better relation between us and said with a laugh, "Have you found my lover yet?"

Instead of the simple 'no' she had expected, I replied, "Not yet my love, but birds are singing a sad song."

Once again she couldn't hide her disappointment when she almost shouted, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Nothing else than the truth. Thanks to your reputation as 'cheater hater' some anon rang me with gossip about you. I've begged to the God Lord that I'll find out that it is pure false rumors created by some damn asshole who envy our happy marriage."

"And you are stupid enough to listen to such crap?"

"I don't use to do that, but your strange behavior during the last time we talked about it have got me worried and why shouldn't a pussy hound brag about a great prey as you. Of course I really hope that it is only silly bragging without any substance."

One thing was for sure; after saying that to her I was living in a very chilly marriage. Now I had "put ants in her head" and hopefully get her accusing "lover boy" for his big mouth. She knew that I suspected her but didn't know how much I knew and who had told me.

On Saturday morning I cleaned her car and replaced the voice recorder with the empty one. When Lola and our daughter went to the supermarket, I listened to the recorder. She did only one phone call during the whole week. Not any useful news for me. Didn't get out to who she rang and neither the lover nor I was mentioned in the conversation, which was about a gift to somebody's birthday. The only thing of interest for me was that she complained about problems but didn't mention what kind of problems. We had one more Saturday evening without sex.

I began to get fed up with the present situation in my marriage and wanted a solution in some way. Because she hadn't got into any of the usual cheating habits as; sexier dressing, overtime at the job, more girl's nights out, strange phone calls or anything like that, I couldn't see any way to get further with my tracking. I was hundred percent sure that she had an affair but she did it in so clever way that I still had not succeed to get any kind of real evidence. At Sunday morning I decided to take a heavy load of humiliation and give her the last chance to save our marriage.