It's Saturday, 9:00AM, the next town over from ours, to the south—Centerville. I was watching her and some asshole coming out of a motel room. She was looking really well fucked, I thought. She'd stayed the whole night. I'd not objected to her being gone since she was supposedly on a business related overnighter. She'd had several of those in recent months; now I had to wonder if all of the business wasn't monkey business.

I put my camera away. I'd gotten all I needed after she'd gotten in the car with him. I was where I was to see what I was seeing because of a tip I'd gotten via an anonymous email.

The tipster had proven accurate right enough: my wife was here, at the Starlite Motor Lodge, and she was here, with a man not her husband—I know this because I'm her husband, and it wasn't me she was with. And, she sure as hell shouldn't have been here doing what she was undoubtedly doing. I love my wife, but if what my eyes were telling me indeed turned out to be what it sure as hell looked like; then, the fact that I loved her may be irrelevant in any event.

My dear wife at age thirty-six—our common age—is a nice looking woman: tall, blond, and well endowed. She is likewise possessed of a great personality and a high degree of intelligence. She and I have been happily married, or so I thought, for the past twelve years.

We do fine economically. I own a small catering and entertainment business: Food and Fun for All Occasions. Rachel Killingsworth nee Hightower, my wife, is a college graduate—I'm not. She works for Schneider and Holcomb Advertising; she designs ad campaigns for businesses and a few non-profit organizations. Our salaries are comparable, which fact may become a useful defense in the very possible divorce action that I am currently considering.

I met Rachel at her sister's wedding, the lady's third try, so I later discovered. I was catering the affair; Rachel was Glenda's maid of honor. Glenda is of course now my sister-in-law. Rachel and I hit it off that day, and I'd had the brass cajones to ask her out on a date even though I was servicing the party: usually mixing business with personal stuff is never a good idea; but hell, it was damn near love at first sight.

I pulled out and onto the highway. I had a sixty mile run to make it home before she did. Well, I assumed she was going to go home.

I pulled into the driveway, parked my car in the garage, and went inside. I immediately headed for the den and the mini-bar it harbored. Two martinis later I heard the garage door opener engage; it was her. Hmm, she hadn't dallied long in getting home from her dirty little tryst. I'd been hammer down most of the way back, and I'd only beaten her by maybe three-quarters of an hour. Well, she did have dinner to cook for us.

"Oh, you're here in the den," she said.

"Yeah, it's where the bar is," I said.

"You're building martinis this time of day?" She seemed genuinely surprised. Maybe because it wasn't beer: my usual mid-day choice of refreshment.

"Yeah, I felt the need for something a little stronger than the usual four percent stuff," I said.

"Daniel? Something wrong?" she said.

"Yeah, you could say that," I said. Her look was a question, but she didn't voice it.

"I just wonder what I did to make you want to fuck somebody else behind my back," I said.

"What did you say?"

"I was just wondering if it was something I did that influenced you to shack up with that guy at the Starlite today."

"Daniel Killingsworth! How dare you!" she said. I reached behind a throw-pillow on the couch I was sitting on. I dialed up one of the photos I'd taken. It was of her kissing the guy after they were in the car. The pic was unusually good for one taken at some little range and through the front windshield. There was no doubt about who it was. Well it was a good camera.

"Will this be enough to cut through the bullshit, so we can get down to brass tacks," I said. She looked at the photograph and realized she was dead meat.

She looked me askance. "A tip by someone who either likes me or doesn't like you. Don't know for sure. It was anonymous. Anonymous, but accurate wouldn't you say?" I said.

"Okay, Daniel, you got me. So what now?" she said.

"Is that it?" I said. "That's all you've got to say to me?" I felt unusually calm for someone whose marriage was imploding. I knew the feeling would only be temporary.

"Whaddya want me to say?" she said. "Don't expect me to wring my hands in despair. You caught me, and knowing you, there will be no forgiveness or opportunities for a second chance, so I'm not going to waste my time begging for it. So, just let's get on with it whatever 'it' is going to be." I nodded.

"Pretty cold for someone I thought to be a faithful and loving wife. A wife I have to admit always acted the part of the true and caring spouse. Anyway, I would have expected a little more than what you're 'not' offering today. But, well, maybe this is the real you. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe now I won't have to feel bad about dumping your whoring ass," I said. She winced a little when I described her as a whore. She sighed.

"For the record, Daniel, I do love you. I love you a lot. I also love Gabriel, not as much as you, and in a different way; but I love him too. Now, I'm caught with my pants down; you'll pardon the analogy. I know you're going to divorce me, and I know he'll take care of me when you're gone. So, while I will likely shed a few tears over you soon enough; I'll be getting on with my life," she said. "You need to also."

"This Gabriel, married?" I said. She gave me a look.

"Divorced," she said. I smiled, but it was a sardonic smile. I'd be checking to see if she were lying or ignorant of the truth whatever the truth might turn out to be. I doubted she was either lying or ignorant, but one could hope.

"Okay, you don't wanna try? It's over. I'll call a lawyer in the morning. You sleep in the guestroom tonight," I said. She gave me a look.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Are you implying that there might be a way out for us—for me?" she said.

"Don't know, you apparently don't want one, a way out I mean, at least not bad enough to try, so no, I guess not," I said. She started pacing.

"Daniel Killingsworth, I know you. You hate women, and men either for that matter, who cheat on their spouses. I'm a cheater; I admit it. So, that has to mean you hate me. Ergo, a divorce is the logical step. Now, am I wrong about any of this?" she said.

"I don't hate anyone, Rachel. I hate what people do to each other sometimes, and adultery is right up there at the top of the list. The hurt that things like what you have done to me is of the worst kind. Still, again, I don't hate anyone, and I don't hate you. But, again, I do hate what you did to me. And, no matter what happens now, I'm gonna be doing a lot of crying and wringing of my hands even if you don't plan on wringing yours," I said.

"I don't want a divorce Dan. I don't," she said. "And, I am sorry that I hurt you. I would never want such a thing. Please accept my apology for that at least even if in the end you decide to dump me."

"You said you love me more than the other guy. What if I said that my condition for forgiving and forgetting was you breaking it off with him?" I said. She took on a strange—maybe thoughtful—expression.

"Why?" she said.

"Why what?" I said.

"Why would you make me do that? If I am reading you right, my fucking him isn't the end of the world for us. And if that is indeed the case, why would it be all that awful if I continued to see Gabriel? He hasn't hurt us in any real way the way I see it. And, I do care for him if not as much as I do for you. I don't want to hurt him either.

"Jesus, I do sound self-serving as hell, don't I. I wish, I hope, I can make you see where I'm coming from, Dan. But, anyway, to answer your question, you're right. If you make me choose, I choose you. I mean if you even are granting me a choice here," she said.

"You know, Rachel, I really never did know you did I? I mean you're coming up with stuff right now that I would have thought unthinkable an hour ago. Hell, they're still unthinkable. And yet, I'm inclined to think about them. Go figure.

"Get him on the phone now. Tell him I discovered you, I'm not happy, and the two of you have to cool it for a while," I said.

She hesitated.

"Just until I decide whether to buy into your idea of making me a willing cuckold, or to dump your cheating butt. I am requiring that there is to be no communication between you and him, that is, other than this call which I will be listening in on, until I decide what I'm going to do. Of course, if you decide to choose him over me after all ... well..." I said.

"Daniel, from where I stand, I am seeing a side of you I didn't know was there. I—we—need to think, and to talk. I want to keep seeing my other man on the side. I know that it sounds crazy. But, if you can see your way clear to let me—well—things would be very very good for you, for the both of us," she said. "But, I will make the call. Maybe it'll serve a good secondary purpose."

"Secondary purpose?"

"Yes, you'll likely hear him say things about you that will lessen the hurt I've put on you. I hope so at least." She nodded and headed for the desk phone across from us. I went into the kitchen to pick up the phone there. I would hear it all.

He picked up on the third ring. I had to guess he lived in Centerville, but I'd know as soon as I checked with the phone company as to the numbers she dialed.

"Hi."

"Well, hi back atcha. Kinda surprised you called. I mean..."

"Yes, yes, I know. We just left each other. Gabe, he knows. He caught us today, and he's got pictures."

"Jesus, what is he going to do!"

"Not sure. Maybe dump me, maybe make me choose between him and you. Don't know yet."

"Oh my. You gonna stay with him if he breaks us up. I mean we have three years invested in each other, Rachel." I almost broke in on them with that little revelation, but I didn't.

"Yes, I know. But Gabe, we talked about this. You—we—always knew it could happen."

"I guess. I know he's a good guy and everything. But..."

"He is a good guy, Gabe. And, he's hurt right now, and we—I—hurt him. I think too he's confused by it all. Hell, I'm confused by it all."

"How about plan B? Would he go for it? I mean we talked about that too."

"Him being a willing cuckold? I don't know. It isn't his idea of a good idea. I did kinda put it to him. He might give it some thought, but him go for it? I just don't know. He probably doesn't even know himself at this point."

"Rachel, if he dumps you. You know I have a place for you here in Centerville. And, I know you still love him; we'll make the divorce as painless for him as possible if he does—I mean even if he does dump you. I mean I really do know you love the guy too..."

"There is no painless divorce, Gabe. They're all painful and that to the nines. But, I understand what you're saying.

"Gabe, we're going to have to cool it for a while at the minimum. I will let you know if I can ... if we can..."

"Okay, I understand. Love you."

"Love you too, Gabe."

She hung up rather slowly, wistfully. I hung up right behind her. For my part I had a lot to think about, as did she I was sure. I came back into the den and nodded at her.

"Three years! Three fucking years, Rachel!" I said. "I had no clue. I must be the dumbest of the dumb, right, Rachel?" I was fuming, but under control—barely.

"Daniel I..."

"Forget it. Okay, we'll think on all of this. We can talk tomorrow. I need a break here. I need a break real bad." Her turn to nod. Her look told me she was twisted up inside hoping she could salvage things.

"Make us dinner, Rachel. I'm hungry," I said. She smiled, again, wistfully—no hopefully. I didn't smile. I didn't because I didn't know what I was going to do. Who would have known at that moment what to do? Historical and hysterical examples of how to deal with cheaters notwithstanding; I liked to think I was at least somewhat more civilized than the barbarian burn the bitch crowd.

We, Rachel and I, are living in Ohio; one of the more civilized locales as far as I'm concerned. My brother, Henry, who resides in West Virginia would have raped and murdered her—and her lover too! Henry is something of a backwoods redneck: ex-army, utterly unforgiving of cheating of any kind. A chicken farmer since mustering out of the arm, Henry might well be described as one who was solitary, poor, nasty, brutal; and, whose life would likely be short—apologies to Thomas Hobbes. He and his compadres were for sure an interesting lot.

Having heard her lover in conversation with her, I could at least reasonably accept that he wasn't an arrogant sonovabitch. Still all of the above being true, I came to the conclusion that me being his willing cuckold, or hers, was not gonna be happening? The very thought of it was way beyond the pale—way beyond it?

Gabe Hubbard was a lawyer, as I soon found out: handsome, tall, forty-one, good in bed, and kinda mild mannered. I learned all of this because she told me. The morning after conversation that we'd had had been very detailed. After the fact, I kinda wished I'd let sleeping dogs lie.

I was by no means chopped liver, not to my mind. But this guy was almost outta my league in every way but one: I made more money than he did, almost twice as much. I made really good bucks, and so did Rachel. But apart from the money, I couldn't compete with this guy on almost any level. I was five-nine, but he was six-four. I wasn't college educated, and he was; and as I mentioned, so was Rachel. As for my bedroom skills: Rachel didn't exactly say it, but I could tell, I didn't measure up. Still, I didn't know if any of what I'd learned was going to be a deal breaker, but I had to think that it might be. Anyway, we'd soon see. That because I was going to ask her to break it off with him. I had decided that I just couldn't do the willing cuckold thing; the thought was just too humiliating.

We had one of the two person tables at the Red Hat that one finds at some of the higher class bistros that the Red Hat was one of. We'd just gotten done boogying around the floor. The perspiration was running down both of our faces.

"Still think you need this Gabriel guy to make your day," I said. I was feeling pretty confident. She gave me a pensive look.

"Need? No. Like to have? Yes," she said.

"Well, I've been thinking about it. About your proposal. I've decided that I can't do it. Rache, you've gotta choose. I just can't get my head around being your cuckold. I can see my way clear to forgive and forget, but share you with another man? Can't do it," I said. She nodded.

"I was afraid you'd choose to go that way," she said. "I've done some thinking too."

"And?" I said.

"I've decided to keep you both. I know you won't..."

"That won't fly..." I started after interrupting her.

"Please, let me finish; then, you can say whatever it is that you need to. Okay?" she said. I spread my hands in a get-on-with-it gesture.

"Danny, you have two options. Option number one: you can accept my proposal to be my number one, and I mean in everything; Gabe will always be sucking hind titty when it comes to our lives together. You'll get all of the sex you want, one hundred percent of the cuddling at night. One hundred percent of the conversation at the breakfast table every morning. If we have children, something I've wanted to talk to you about by the way, they'll have our parents' names, yours and mine, not Gabe's or any of his relatives. Well, you get the picture. Like I said you'll be my undisputed number one in every possible way."

"And, your wimpy assed cuckold," I said. She snickered her frustration with my interruption.

"And my second option?" I said, not waiting for her to counter my remark. She sagged back a little on her stool.

"Option two is you'll divorce me, and I'll fight it. Economically, that would be a nuisance for me and a disaster for you. Additionally, if it even matters, he'll be the one cuddling up with me at night, sharing conversation with me over the breakfast table in the morning; and, eventually, probably, having my children.

"Okay, I'm done," she said. "Your turn."

"So it's either the life of a humiliated cuckold or—your words—financial and familial ruin for me," I said. "Helluva choice."

"You would never be humiliated or insulted by me or Gabe, Danny; I promise you that. Nor would you ever be inconvenienced in any way. And a cuckold? Yes, you are and you would remain my cuckold. But, when you get right down to it; it's only a word. It's only a word and would have no meaning of consequence as far as Gabe or I were concerned," she said.

"Really?" I said. "Well, it would for me."

"Yes, really," she said. "And, it, being my cuckold, would only have meaning, even for you, in some meaningless, abstract, guy world. I respect you, Danny; and I think you know that.

"So please, tell me what I can do to make my proposal palatable for you," she said.

"Yes. Well, call Gabe, and have him come over here. You can dance and party with him for a bit if you like, and that will give me an opportunity to get my stuff and move out of the house," I said. Her face took on a surprised look.

"That's all you've got to say?" she said. "You're opting to divorce me?"

"Yes." I stood, smiled, and stared at her hard. "I didn't like your take it or leave it threats, Rachel. No real man would. Hence, this farce of a marriage just ended. Have a miserable life," I said. I headed out without paying. She'd likely have to be calling her fuck buddy for a ride.

I had secretly cleansed her wallet of all of her credit cards and all but three dollars cash before we left to come here to the Red Hat. I knew, suspected, no knew, that tonight was going to be decision night. It had been her idea for us, she and I, to go out have a great time—and we had had a great time—to demonstrate, as I guessed, what I'd be missing if I were to select her option two.

At any rate, I didn't know how long I'd have to get the hell out of the house, so I burned up the road getting home.

I was home, packed, and rolling in fifty-four minutes. As I rolled out they were rolling in: I recognized his Lexus; I'd ID'd it at the motel that day a week gone. At any rate, I'd just made it. She had to have seen me, but as luck or design would have it, they didn't follow me.

I was pulling into the Sunset motel lot just as my cell went off. It was her.

"Hello," I said.

"You're being childish," she said.

"You're being a whore. The two things cancel each other out," I said.

"Look, come home and we can talk this over. There has to be a way that we can make this work. Whaddya say?" she said.

"No, your arrogance has gotten my back up. Let me ask you. Is he there? I mean right now?" I said.

"Yes, he was my ride home. You left me stranded and penniless," she said.

"Are you going to fuck him?" I said.

"Not if you come home. If you do that, I'll fuck you? Fair enough?" she said. I smiled.

"For real?" I said.

"Yes," she said. I could be home in ten minutes.

"Okay, tell him to hightail it. I'll be there in ten minutes," I said.

"All right. I'll be waiting," she said. Short shanking their plans, no doubt their plans, to fuck was worth me reconsidering my immediate reaction to her arrogance.

"It took me twenty minutes to get home; Well, I'd decided to register and take the motel room for a week just in case.

I was ten minutes late, but I guess she'd decided not to make an issue of it. She came to me and planted a very sensual kiss on my love starved lips. "Just for openers," she said.

"Make us a drink," I said. "I need a drink." She smirked.

"Whatever," she said. She poured us each a glass of wine: burgundy, my favorite. It was obvious that she was trying to soften her brutal ultimatums of earlier that evening.

"Look," she said, "about what I said before. I was unnecessarily cruel, yes, and arrogant. It is true that I want to keep on seeing Gabe. And, it is equally true, that I want to have your permission to do so. But, what is not true in any way shape or form is that I want you to be dissatisfied with whatever I—we—do."

"Well, then dump the asshole and stick with me. You'll not only be better off; you'll be happier. I mean what can he do for you that I can't? I mean really, what has he got that I don't have or can't get?" I said. "Let me answer my own question: nothing."

She sagged back in the seat she'd chosen at the dinette table. I was standing, but leaning back against the credenza across room her. She took a sip of the wine; I followed suit.

"He's a star in bed, Danny. Really, kinda nonpareil," she said.

"Really, and what am I, chopped liver?" I said.

"Heck no, you're good too. Very good actually, but..."

"But, not as good as him? That it?" I said.

"Truth, Danny? Nobody is. He's the best I ever had. I mean the very best. And, again, that's no slam at you. But, he's got a nine inch dick and he makes me cry the orgasms are so good. I can't even explain it adequately," she said.

"Well, even though clearly I am never going to be better than second best—nine inches you say?" I said. "Well, second best just has to be good enough or I'm outta here. Hell, the silver medal is chicer anyway," I said.

She fidgeted. "Danny, how about you join us. Do the threesome thingy," she said.

"No,"

"But..."

"No, it's either him or me. If it takes a nine inch dick to light your fire, I'm getting outta here since I clearly will never be able to measure up in that department. My five—very thick five—inches is what I got, and if it's not enough for you then sayonara," I said.

She started pacing. She was looking for a way out of the dilemma that she'd brought on herself. She decided to lie. And, I decided to believe her lie, sort of.

"Okay. If I can't get you to lighten up, I will give up Gabe. I choose you," she lied. It was so obviously a lie that I had to go along with it for a while; it amused me. If I had it right, she was giving me a chance to save a little face, and still keep her lover on the side, knowing that I knew that was what she was doing. Weird, but, I figured at the least she'd likely be cutting back on her activities, and paying more attention to me and my needs. Weird!

"Okay. Call him now while I'm here. I want to hear you tell him to get lost," I said.

"Please, Danny, I need to do it face to face with him. It'd be cruel to just call him up and dump on him over the phone. Please?" she said. More bullshit, I knew, but I decided to carry out my plan regardless. Okay, I was playing along; I figured it was to my advantage at this stage.

"Okay. Go to him now. But, get back here before the cock crows 9:00PM," I said. I'd given her two hours. If she were going to fuck him it'd have to be a quickie. She nodded, and headed for the door. She grabbed her sweater on the way out, and, her purse.

I was pretty sure I'd be able to tell if he fucked her. I mean a nine inch weapon of lust? Oh yeah.

"He didn't go for it?" said Gabriel.

"No, I was sure he would, maybe grudgingly, but I was sure he would. But, no, he didn't

"I know now that I came on too strong. I essentially gave him an ultimatum. A proud man, a proud man like Daniel Killingsworth, doesn't deal with ultimatums too good," she said. He nodded.

"So where does that leave us," he said. She laughed, but it was a sardonic laugh.

"Where we started, sneaking around. And we have to be real good at it. I'm sure he knows I lied when I told him I was giving you up. I let him have that one; it's how he's going to be able to save face. He'll be able to pretend he won the day, and I'll be suitably humble in letting him think so. Rubbing his nose in it will get us to divorce court so fast he'll be leaving skid marks on the asphalt," she said.

"Jesus, I was so hoping we could stop all of the sneaking around, but what is, is, I guess," said Gabriel.

"Yes, me too, but it's not to be," she said. "We've just got to hope that an opportunity will present itself that might bring him around to a—what—more reasonable way of looking at things.

"Yeah, reasonable would be good. I hope you've got your prayer beads handy," he said.

"Yeah for real," she said. "Anyway, I've got to get back. I have a nine o'clock curfew." He nodded.

"Yeah, I can dig it. Anyway, here's hoping," he said, as he poured and then raised a stem glass of white wine to her. He sipped it, and handed it to her to do likewise.

Well, she didn't get back at nine o'clock; she got back at 8:25. I was a little surprised. But, whatever, I had to rate it as a good omen. Maybe she had dumped the guy, finally. No, that kind of wishful thinking was a loser.

The next several weeks were good ones in my estimation. She was always home when she should have been. No mention was made of his Gabrielship during the whole time. And, our sex and love per se were top drawer.

"Why don't we go out tonight," I said, on the seventh Friday following her supposed split with the interloper.

"Can't tonight, hon, got a date with Marian Walsh from the office. We've been tasked with putting together a presentation for some selected clients. If it goes well, there might be a bonus in it for me," she said.

"Oh, okay, I guess I'll try to put together a pickup game of pool somewhere. Maybe the Starlighter," I said.

"Sounds good. Have fun," She said.

I suppose her "have fun" remark was emblematic of our unstated recognition of the fact that I was allowed to have a little recreation myself so long as I was being so tolerant and understanding of her "on the side" activities. Well, that was my reasoning.

I actually did try to set up a little pool and beer fest at the Starlighter lounge. But, as fate would dictate, neither Arnie nor Reggie, my best pool shooting buds and my crew when I catered a party, were available, so I decided just to eat out, at the Gallantry, and maybe catch a flick. What I caught sight of was a whole different kettle of fish.

They were sitting real close together. He didn't actually have his hand up her dress, but he did have it resting quite familiarly on her thigh. I knew of course that she was planning on fucking him. And, as indicated several times heretofore, she knew I knew she was going to be fucking him. But seeing them together ... I had to get outta there.

All of a sudden my marriage was over; seeing them the way they were brought it home to me. But, now I had a problem. How to get out of the restaurant without them seeing me and causing a scene. Problem was, there was no way. I rose, began to stride out—and I mean stride. She saw me, uttered an "oh my God," and intercepted me before I'd gotten twenty feet.

"Daniel, I thought..." she started.

"The boys couldn't make it. I decided to get a bite to eat at a nice restaurant. I didn't know you and him..."

"Daniel, this is embarrassing. Look, I think I know what you're feeling—thinking. I know you must have seen him—us. Please come and join us; it's time you met the man. Then, well then, you and I will go home and do what we do best. Okay. Please, Daniel," she said.

I looked around. No one was paying particular attention to us. Decision time. I either rolled outta there or joined the two of them.

"What and ruin your plans for the evening—his plans?" I said. I was only barely not being sarcastic.

"You've ruined them before, and Gabe knows that anytime there's a conflict, you get the nod not him," she said. "It's the deal you and I tacitly made. Yes, yes, I know we never actually said anything or set anything in stone, but..." I nodded. "And Danny, I have never compromised our—tacit—deal or ever planned to renege on it. And. I am not reneging on it now." All of a sudden I wasn't quite as angry as I had been.

"All right then, if you're sure that's what you want," I said.

"I'm more than sure it's what I want my husband. Gabe's a nice guy, and he's good at some things, but you're number one. I'm not sure, but I think that this might be a really lucky happenstance, an opportunity. Really," she said. She had me by the hand and was pulling my not too resisting person toward their table.

He stood as we neared the table. "Good evening mister Killingsworth," he said. I nodded my acknowledgement of his greeting. Neither of us were offering to shake hands.

For her part, Rachel seated me and took the seat beside mine and across from him. I'm not sure what he must've been thinking, but I'm sure it must have upset him that it was my hand now resting on my wife's thigh—obviously resting on it. She gave me a look when I put it there, but didn't try to remove it or even look like she would liked to have had me remove it. She was making all of the right moves.

"Well, here we are all together, meeting. It's unplanned, but possibly a good thing. Jesus, I hope so!" she said.