Chapter 2

From that moment on we were exclusive, a fact I made sure to establish early. I never again mentioned what I'd seen while watching her in that car, and neither did she. To my knowledge she never went on another date with anyone else the whole time we were there, although I admit I did not have the time to verify that. I was just too damn busy.

Shantella was just as busy at college as she had been in high school, getting involved with all kinds of campus groups in addition to her class load. In her third year she started the student teaching thing, and I did my internship at a local food wholesaler, since I was eventually going to take over the family business.

WE managed to find time to meet in hotel rooms and the old standby, my back seat, and we picked up right where we left off. We went on the usual corny dates, picnics in the park, boat rides on the river, and even took a drive up a mountain just to say we fooled around on a mountain top. We did all the usual romantic crap, eating off the same plates, holding hands everywhere we went, playing kissy face on the park bench. You know that couple you pass and you look at them and think, Geez, get a god damn room? Well that was us. I was so stupidly in love with that girl it wasn't even funny. And she seemed to finally feel the same way about me.

In our third year I pulled my finger out and realized that my life was better with her in it, so I asked her to marry me, once again back on that mountain top. She sobbed in joy and said "yes, of course," and then proceeded to reduce me to a quivering ruin.

We told the moms, informing them that we were going to get married after graduation, giving them a whole year to do their worst.

We graduated, Shantella having been hired by the local school district and my father turning operation of the store over to me. Our wedding present was half a down payment scraped together by both sets of parents on a house of our choosing. We got married in a beautiful ceremony, and we promptly left for our honeymoon.

I had managed to make a good friend named Ron Clarkson. He was my roommate for the first year of college and somehow we became fast friends. His family owned lots of property in our state and he was going there to learn how to manage them all.

Ron gave me the keys to a cabin way out in the woods as my wedding present. It was ours for a week and, somehow, I kept the whole thing from Shantella, since the honeymoon was the grooms' responsibility. Even her most devastating female wiles weren't enough to get me to spill the surprise, although I was severely put to the test many a time.

"Come on Rob, where are we going?" she whined, as I held the door for her after the reception was over. She was wearing her wedding gown still, thankfully not one of those with the ten foot trains floating out behind it. She was absolutely gorgeous, but I wondered if it had to be custom fitted with those enormous boobs of hers. I never did ask.

"Can't tell ya that, my love," I said, giving her a wink and heading around the front of my car.

She pouted outrageously all the way into the mountains, but eventually relaxed as the beauty of the scenery took hold of her. "This is gorgeous country," she said quietly, as we passed through am alpine meadow dotted with wildflowers. "I feel blessed to live here sometimes."

"Can't argue that one. Enjoy it while it lasts though, some real estate developer is going to come up here and turn the whole thing into subdivisions."

"Way to be optimistic, Rob," Shantella said, swatting me on the arm.

"Just telling it like I see it," I shrugged. "Seems more and more land is being gobbled up so Mr. and Mrs. Jones can live in their cookie cutters and lord it over the guys in the projects."

"Forget all that depressing stuff lover, tonight is your wedding night. You should only be thinking of what we're going to be doing later. And just where the hell are we going!"

"We're here," I said as I pulled up in front of the cabin. It was a medium sized structure actually built of real logs. A wrap around porch circled it and two fireplace chimneys jutted up from the roof. Behind the cabin was a gurgling stream over which a small footbridge led off into the wilderness.

"What's this?"

I shut the motor down and turned to her. "This is our place for the next week. No neighbors for half a mile. NO traffic. No city noises. Just us and the mountains."

"Oh Rob, it sounds wonderful," she squealed, and before I could get out she was standing in the lush grass and doing a full 360 to take in the surroundings. I once again paused to marvel at her beauty, before beginning to haul suitcases out of the car and taking them inside.

"Oh Rob, you outdid yourself this time," she gushed, bouncing from room to room, still wearing her wedding dress. I had taken the time, a couple of days ago, to come up here and stock the fridge and pantry so that we wouldn't ever have to leave the house all week. I laid in towels and champagne and chocolate and all that other stuff too. My whole focus was going to be on my new bride and I wouldn't let mundane shit like not having milk and bread get in the way.

"This cabin is ours for a week, babe," I said, coming up behind her and nuzzling her neck. My hands gravitated to her breasts almost by themselves and I smelled the clean scent of her. "We don't ever have to leave," I continued, breating lightly on her ear and feeling her shiver. "I took care of everything."

By now she was wriggling in my arms. She turned and faced me, a big smile lighting up her face. "You just wanted to be able to ravage me without distractions, you beast," she said. Her face was infused with high color and her eyes sparkled.

"Guilty," I smiled back, giving her a light kiss. "Let me lay a fire and you can claim the bedroom."

Way back when we first got together in high school, Shantella had told me that nothing but that one little hole was off limits. She made it sound like not really a big deal, and maybe technically speaking it wasn't, but my god, there is nothing that can compare to slipping inside the woman you love. There were more than a few times during our little get togethers that I was within scant millimeters of slipping in there. She always knew though and was able to stop me.

That first time on our honeymoon night was absolutely magical. I stripped the gown off her, and then I led her into the bathtub and washed her thoroughly. I washed her hair, since a woman's hair is almost a sexual organ. I gave her a scalp massage and rubbed conditioner in those fiery curls. She was purring like a cat and I could smell her arousal, but I didn't pay any attention to her pussy and breasts other than to just wash them. Her nipples were hard bullets, but I carefully avoided them. I could see the pulse beating in her neck, like a butterfly fluttering beneath her skin. When I spread her legs to wash her inner thighs, I could see her clit poking out of its hood. Moisture glistened on her inner and outer lips. I just smiled and washed her, carefully avoiding the clit.

"Jesus, stop fucking teasing me!" she begged, trying to grab me and pull me on top of her. She was panting and her thigh muscles were quivering. This was one seriously aroused woman.

I Laughed and pushed her hands away. "I'm not done yet, you'll just have to be patient."

By this time of course I was hard enough to drive nails through concrete, but I wasn't going to let that stop my plan. I continued washing her and then lovingly I rinsed her off. I rinsed the washcloth with cold water and let it drop onto her nipples. Her back arched and she called me a bastard and begged me to fuck her.

At last I took pity on her and we ran, naked and dripping to the bed. Her huge breasts bounced, her curls flew in wet tangles and she never looked more beautiful.

She yanked me on top of her and demanded, "Fuck me damn you, fuck me now." Her big thighs came up and clamped me and I slid deep into her without any effort at all. She was lucky enough to have a thin hymen and she barely felt it give way; the only indication being a slight tightening of her eyes. I had read that the key was to let her set the pace, but she didn't do that, she just demanded that I fuck her and fuck her now.

That first time was over in about two minutes. I powered in and out of her, helped on by her pulling against my hips. I had claw marks down my back and her head thrashed from side to side as she screamed in pleasure. Her breasts shook everywhere, even coming up to bounce against her chin at a particularly hard thrust.

Finally we both came, explosively. I think we both screamed in harmony there for a second, while it felt like firecrackers were going off in my groin. Her pussy clamped tight around me and milked me for every drop I was worth.

I collapsed on top of her, feeling her breasts flatten to either side of me. I was panting like a race horse and I still hadn't quite gone soft, but I was done for the moment. At last I rolled off and pulled her with me so we were lying face to face again on our sides.

"Jesus that was incredible," I said, caressing her face. I felt my love for this woman fill me and I wanted to be with her forever.

She smiled a catlike smile of contentment. "It was worth the wait, wasn't it?"

"Oh yeah. Most definitely."

After a beat she started caressing me. "I love you Rob," she said quietly. I love you so much. Make love to me now. Please."

We stayed in that cabin for a week and made love I don't know how many times. On the bed, on the floor, in the stream out back, on the grass out in the meadow. I even took her back to our first mountain top and did her bent over a picnic table.

Sadly the honeymoon was over and it was time to get back to real life. We drove back down, got settled into our new house and began our lives as employed adults.

The first five years skated by. I felt truly blessed to have this woman as my wife. I felt like I had won the lottery. We kissed, we cuddled, we touched and we still did all that sappy bullshit like feeding each other our food and breakfast in bed and all that other happy crappy. But you know something? When it's the woman you love, it's not a bunch of sappy bullshit. You do it because it makes her happy and, whether or not we guys like to admit it or not, seeing our woman smile at us makes us feel ten feet tall. It makes us feel like we can tear mountains down with our bare hands just to hear her cheer for us.

Every day I worked as fast as I could just so I could get home to her. I found other people to take out of town trips just so that I wouldn't have to be away from her. When I got home, I ran through the house trying to find her and hold her in my arms. I felt like a fucking character in a god damn romance novel.

We talked about everything, and I would do absolutely anything for her, just like I felt she would for me. She decided she didn't want children at least for another couple more years; said she didn't bust her butt to earn that degree to then be a housewife.

For our fifth anniversary, I bought the cabin we had spent our honeymoon in, and we spent the weekend of the anniversary recreating everything we did back then. It was magical and marvelous all over again.

The only thing I was uncomfortable with was her flirting. She never got the need to show herself off out of her system. Whenever we went to parties or dances she would always wear her tight sweaters and rub on guys. Well, maybe not actually rub on them, but just feed her own female ego. Just like back in high school, she liked the attention. I couldn't complain too much because whenever we got home she would attack me. By the next morning, if I got her case about it, it would make me sound like a jealous, insecure jerk, because hey, she always came home with me, right?

And then things began to change.

At first I thought nothing of it. When she told me that she was having to stay late at work due to school district meetings and conferences I just nodded and smiled and told her I hoped things worked out. When she told me that the teachers in the district were being sent on a convention to discuss new ways to interest kids in learning this or that, I said "Have a good time and I hope you learn something worthwhile." It never once entered my mind that she might be unfaithful. It wasn't even a dim suspicion, not even a far off possibility.

It wasn't until I got the envelope on my desk at work that I began to suspect something.

It was a bright June Tuesday. Shantella was gone on another of her conventions and I missed her big soft body in bed next to me, so I got up bright and early and headed into work.

Mom and Dad had retired last year and left me in sole charge of both stores. Today was the day I touched base with all our suppliers, so I got busy and tried to put how much I missed Shantella out of my mind.

About noon, Jenny, my secretary, came in and gave me an envelope. "Guy just dropped this off for you, Rob," she said, looking puzzled. "He just left it on my desk and walked out."

I thanked her and she headed out to lunch.

Being in a lull between contacts, I decided to open the envelope. I quickly had to make a dash to my bathroom to toss my cookies.

There in the envelope were pictures of my wife. Pictures of my wife, kissing a man. Pictures of my wife dancing with the same man in a bar, while his hands groped her ass. Pictures of my wife tilting her face up toward the man and smiling that smile I thought I was the only one to see. And lastly, pictures of my wife and the man heading into the Seaside Motel out on Benton Road. The timestamp in the photos said these were from last week. I had no idea who the hell the man was.

After I returned from spewing my breakfast I stuffed the pictures back into the envelope without looking at them. Then I shut my office door, sat down, lay my head on my arms and cried.

I don't care if that makes me look like a wimp. I loved that woman, had loved her for what seems like forever, and now she did this?

I sat there and just bawled my eyes out for what must have been half an hour. The next thing I was aware of was that I was being petted by soft hands and cradled against a breast. Somebody was cooing in my ear and stroking my hair and it felt so good that I just let it go. I felt absolutely devastated, empty inside and like Shantella had torn out my heart. I don't think anyone who hasn't been in that kind of situation can really identify with it.

At last I looked up from the breast I was being cradled against and saw Jenny, my secretary. She had tears in her eyes as well from watching me. She had been with the business side of our stores damn near forever. I had learned the ropes from her when I got started in the business office and she probably would outlast me here.

I sniffled and dug out a Kleenex to dry my eyes. My head felt like it was filled with wet sandpaper, but my heart still ached. My hands trembled as I put the box back in the desk drawer.

"Ready to talk about it?" Jenny said softly, looking at me with concern.

I felt a little ashamed at breaking down in front of her, but aside from Shantella and my parents I trusted Jenny more than just about anyone, so, without looking at her I handed her the envelope.

I heard a gasp, and despite myself I looked over to see how she was taking it.

She flipped rapidly through the pictures and then stuffed them back in their envelope. "Jesus, Rob. I had no idea. Do you know what you are going to do?"

"Not a clue Jenny. This hit me way out of left field." I sounded like a foghorn and I excused myself to wash my face.

When I got back Jenny was still sitting there, looking thoughtful. "I have a girlfriend, name's Rachel Morgan. I love her to death, but she's a bit of a slut and always has been. Anyway, if you want I can get her to ask Shantella what the hell's going on with her? She'd be more likely to get information, you know, since she can tell Shantella all about her own little dalliances and trade tips, or something."

"That would save me a ton of money because right now the only thing I can think of is to hire a private investigator. God, I hate this." I felt my face scrunch up again, but I grimly fought back the tears. I could fall to pieces later.

"God I'm sorry she's doing this to you, Rob," Jenny said, and I could see she really meant it. "I swear to you I will help you figure out what the hell is going on."

I smiled weakly at her. "Thanks, Jenny, you're a real friend. To be honest I'm totally lost."

She came over and gave me a hug. "I can tell, but you'll bounce back. Now, just let me handle this, like I handle your appointments. You worry about yourself, hear?"

"Aye aye captain," I said, giving her a more real smile.

As the days passed, I began to realize that finding out your partner cheating on you is something like finding out that someone close to you has died. For the first week or so, I was nearly crippled with sadness. I had to duck into the bathroom and just bawl helplessly into a towel at random times. I would open the closet and see that strappy sundress Shantella liked to wear. I would be out in the yard mowing or something, and the next time I'd look up there would be my wife, standing in that way she had with one ankle crossed over another, wearing that strappy sundress and standing so her body was illuminated by the sunlight. I'd drop the mower handle and just take her right there on the patio.

Or I'd open the cabinet door and see the extra large serving platter we bought one day, just so that we could eat off the same plate in bed or on the couch, and I'd remember how we used to swap the spoon or fork back and forth and feed each other straweberries or grapes with our fingers and laugh. And then I'd have to duck into the bathroom and sob my eyes out. How could a woman I loved so god damn much do what she had?

But then the sadness gave way to anger. I'd look over at her, sitting in her easy chair grading papers and I'd just want to go over there and beat her ass bloody. How many other dicks had been in that ass that I thought was mine? How many millions of sperm were on her lips after she sucked off somebody and then came home and fucking kissed me? How could she even face me after going to a hotel with some sleazy asshole and do with him that she promised she would only do with me?

Then of course there was denial. Maybe there was some kind of totally innocent explanation for Shantella to be with that asshole in the pictures. That stage only lasted a day before I gave it up after looking at the pictures again. The kisses they exchanged didn't look at all platonic and there was no damn way going into a hotel room with a man could be interpreted any other way. So denial was out.

The three weeks between my receipt of that envelope and the time I got the whole story were some of the worst weeks in my life. And the fucking bitch of it was, Shantella never noticed! She never fucking noticed how I was hurting, or that I hadn't even fucking touched her once. Not one god damn time! This from the bitch who says she loves me.

I did my best to keep it together, but I wasn't entirely successful. Lots of my workers asked me if I had some kind of terminal illness. I wasn't sleeping or eating well and there were dark circles under my eyes.

Finally, Jenny came in to my office, looking upset. "I finally got the story, Rob, but you're not going to like it, and you are probably going to want to get the cops involved. Let me buy you lunch and we'll discuss it."

"Why would I want to get the cops involved?"

"Just wait till you hear the story, Rob, and then we can decide what to do."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I'm your friend and I want to help you."

I choked up again. Seemed I was always on the ragged edge these days. "Thanks a bunch, Jenny."

She smiled at me. "Anytime Rob."

That afternoon we went to the diner and, after the waitress took our order Jenny began. The story, when she told it, left me stunned.

It turned out that Rachel knew Shantella, not well, but she knew her. Rachel worked as a school bus driver and had come in contact with her once or twice. Over the previous three weeks Rachel had joined Shantella and a few of the other female teachers on the occasional girls' night out and had finally learned what was going on.

The man in the photos, a guy named Brent Goldman, was a principle at one of the schools in the district and was a real sleaze ball. Besides Shantella he was fucking three other teachers and, according to Rachel who did some more digging after hearing Shantella's story, he was also fucking some of the high school girls. The guy was an animal, a lowlife scum sucking bastard.

"How the hell did Shantella fall under his fucking charm?" I wondered, squeezing the coffee cup so hard I thought it would snap.

Jenny looked like she wasn't enjoying this any more than I was. "You know Shantella," she said, turning her hands up. "She likes to flirt and likes attention. She likes to feel that she still has it, and with those boobs of hers every guy comes sniffing around her."

"I know and I hate it," I muttered. "I never said anything because it makes her happy, but god damn it, I should be enough for her. She shouldn't have to be letting other guys sniff around her. So what happened, this guy decided he wanted more than a sniff and drugged her or something?"

"No, he's way too slick for something that crude," she said. "It was a fucking seduction, Rob. I won't bore you with all the details, but he charmed her, wined and dined her. It went a little farther each time until that first convention, where he finally got into her pants, and she's been seeing him ever since. He was smart enough not to be too aggressive. The guy is a real slick operator."

By this time our lunch hour was over and she offered to buy me a drink after work so we could discuss what I planned to do and I accepted.

I went back to work and tried to get through the day, but the anger was back. Back in spades. I couldn't concentrate. All I could picture was Shantella writhing in ecstasy under Brent as he mauled her breasts and pounded into her. I saw her smile at him in that picture, like he was the most important thing in her world, the same smile she used to give me. Finally I gave up trying to add up payroll taxes and just sat staring into space, by turns feeling blinding rage and crushing despair.

Jenny came in and we left for Anthony's, a small pub a couple of blocks from my office. After we had our drinks she said, "Do you have any idea what you're going to do, Rob?"

"Divorce is probably a sure thing. Can't bring myself to do anything to Shantella, but the asshole she's been fucking is gonna have to pay. We're going to have to get evidence and that he's actually doing underage girls and then get him locked up, that's for damn sure. Actually I'd like to castrate him with a butterknife, but I don't want to go to jail over a worthless piece of shit like him."

"You know you're going to have to talk to Shantella, right? You love her to pieces, anyone who sees the two of you together can see that."

"What for? I don't want to have to hear 'It isn't what you think, ' 'I can explain, ' or 'but honey it was only sex.' She cheated, trust gone, marriage over."

"That's pretty cold, don't you think?"

"Suppose it was your husband? Think you'd be in a mood to say 'oh sorry honey, I guess your cheating ain't that big a deal, let's go home and make love, shall we'?"

She had the good grace to blush. "I'd kick him out in a heartbeat," she admitted. "Guess it's easy to get all high minded when it isn't you."