Not too much sex
In the video, I'm dancing with the most attractive man I ever met. He looks like a Greek Adonis, maybe a little darker. One of his hands is cupping my ass, the other is on my hip drifting north. I remember feeling his package pressing against my belly. He pulls me in for a kiss.
As the kiss broke, I remember my husband Jack calling my name, "Jesse it's time to go."
I had forgotten he was going to pick me up at 11:00 like every time I attended a girls night out.
In the video, tall, dark and handsome is whispering in my ear. The video doesn't pick up what he says but I remember him offering me a ride home.
And then I turn to my husband as I shake my head no and kiss my Adonis again.
The video ends there. I've seen it a thousand times. People I've never met before keep sending it to me, asking if I really fucked over my husband like that and asking for his number.
The uber dropped me off at my house almost 24 hours after I had left for my GNO. Every light was on, I wondered if Jack was home and what would I say to him. Sorry seemed so inadequate and I wasn't sorry. I just had the best sex in my life, every one of my holes was sore, there was still cum leaking out of my ass and pussy. My ass cheeks and tits were bruised. All I wanted was a long hot shower and to go to bed.
The house stank so I opened a couple of windows. There were things missing that I couldn't picture. The house was also quiet, no Jack. At least that would give me a chance to clean off my lover's cum and assess the damage to my body. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror I realized that there was no way I could hide or minimize the damage. My tits were covered in love bites and other bruises, my ass was bright red with my lover's handprints, and my pussy looked like I had taken on an army. I'm sure my ass looked just as bad.
The shower water never got hot; the water was ice cold. I didn't really understand those things and gave up on a shower. My mind was racing, flashbacks from the night before and the massive orgasms I experienced and then remorse from what I did to Jack. I needed to sleep; I needed to calm my mind. After putting on sweats and clean underwear I noticed all of Jack's clothing was missing and the bedroom reeked. After opening the windows, I took two sleeping pills and pulled back the covers. Then the smell really hit me. There was a pile of shit in the bed. Common sense which had eluded me the night before told me that Jack had shit on our bed the same way I shit on our marriage.
The open windows were cooling off the house, so I went to the linen closet for extra blankets, the closet was empty. I went to lay on the living room sofa, and it was wet. Jack had pissed all over it. Common sense stated the obvious. I managed to fall asleep in the armchair and woke up feeling worse than when I fell asleep. At least last night I was still on that sexual high, now, all I had was remorse. Coffee, it was time for coffee.
The kitchen floor was wet when I stepped in. The refrigerator doors were wide open, and the lights were off. I assumed the ice in the ice maker had melted and leaked out. Looking behind the refrigerator I could see it had been unplugged. I couldn't reach the plug, nor was I strong enough to pull it out far enough. Jack could.
Back in the armchair, I turned my phone back on, I couldn't remember turning it off. It was blowing up with emails and text message. There was one from Jack on Friday night, that was the first time I saw the video. He had sent it to everybody, including my entire family, every one of our friends and at least a dozen names I didn't recognize.
But I needed help, calls to my parents went straight to voice mail, so did my calls to my brothers.
My mother sent me a text, "Please leave us alone, what you did to Jack was horrible and I can't believe my daughter could do such a thing. I guess that means you're not."
I texted her back, "Mom, I need help. Jack did a lot of damage inside the house; I can't live here. There's no hot water; the refrigerator is unplugged, and he shit on the bed. Maybe the brothers can help me?"
As I waited for her response, I scanned the living room and figured out why it looked different. Our wedding portrait was missing. And then I realized all the pictures were missing. The bedroom was the same way. But it wasn't just pictures, all the souvenirs from our vacations were missing.
Whether my mother responded or not, I still need to mop the kitchen floor and once that was done, I could make a cup of coffee. It felt good to get moving. I was putting the mop away when I heard back from my mother.
"Your brothers have reluctantly agreed to help you but only if they don't have to see or talk to you. Of course, you understand how close they were to Jack. Send me a list and I'll forward it to them. They have you blocked so you won't be able to contact them directly. They'll be there at noon."
Getting the mattress out of the house was number one, hot water was number two and the refrigerator was number three. I'm sure there were other things, but I didn't want to push my luck. Then I headed to a fast food joint for some breakfast and coffee from the drive through and headed to a small park.
I called my best friend Lisa:
"Jesse don't ever call me again. My fiancé saw the video and broke our engagement. He doesn't want to be married to someone who could let you fuck over your husband like that. I'm praying I can fix this with him, and I promised him you and I are done. You'll get the same response from all the other women in our clique. I hope the dude was worth it."
There was a text from Jack, it was a picture of the inside of large dumpster. I could easily recognize the wedding portraits and the wedding album. Actually, the dumpster was full of stuff I recognized including my jewelry box. Even our Christmas decorations were in there. Three years of marriage and three years of dating were sitting in a dumpster. That's when I began to cry.
My mother sent me a text, "The brothers are done and so am I."
The mattress was sitting on the curb when I got home, most of the shit was missing, there was hot water, and the refrigerator was working. I finally got the shower I had been dying for. It hurt but felt good at the same time. I stood in the shower and how truly I fucked up my life began to sink in. No husband, no family, no friends and every part of my body still hurt.
The smell of human shit was beginning to fade from the bedroom when I went to get dressed. I opened the closet, and all of my fancy dresses were missing. Jack always liked to take me clothes shopping when we had a big event coming up, so he probably paid for them. I opened my lingerie drawer, and it was empty. Jack probably paid for most of that too. Looking at the dumpster picture again, I began to see a lot of my clothes.
In the kitchen was a plastic baggy on the table with a note from my oldest brother:
"We found this under the pile of shit, I think its Jack's wedding ring." It was.
The rest of Sunday was spent shopping, of course all my credit cards were declined so I had to use my debit card. I checked the account balance on my phone and saw that half the balance had been removed on Friday night.
I took Monday off so I could receive the new mattress.
I also asked the brothers to come back to remove the couch. I could not get rid of the urine smell.
Worked sucked on Tuesday, everyone had seen the video and were talking behind my back. Of course, a half dozen women asked for Jack's phone number. My boss called me into his office at lunch time and told me that I was a serious detriment to office productivity, and he wanted me to work from home for at least the next two weeks. I happily agreed.
Working from home was unbelievably depressing, the empty spaces on the that had been filled with the joyous times of our lives. My computer was set up in the second bedroom which had been destined to be a nursery in the near future.
The cure for depression is not a bottle of wine but I tried anyway, nor is it junk food but cooking for one just added to my depression.
On Friday, a week from my fuck up, I was served with divorce papers. I also received an electronic copy. Most of it I didn't understand. Jack and I never really talked money except when we bought this condo. Those conversations usually revolved around whether to wait until we had enough money to buy a house before we started having babies. I may not have understood the legal mumbo jumbo, but Jack's salary was three to four times mine and that didn't include what he was making from investments. We lived rather frugally, there were no BMW's in the driveway, but if you looked at what Jack had stashed away for our first real home you would be amazed.
As I said, I didn't understand the legal shit, but my father was a lawyer, not a divorce lawyer but he would be the one I would turn to with any legal question. I sent my mother a copy of the divorce papers and asked if dad would help me. It was 24 hours later when I received his response:
"I'll help you, but we'll do this my way. If you try and take one dime from Jack, I'll kill you myself. You already ripped the man's heart out, do you want to bleed him dry too?"
"Dad, I don't think I can afford this place on my own."
"The condo is paid off and Jack is signing it over to you, but you'll be responsible for property taxes, HOA fees and the utilities."
"Ok," was my simple response. I really didn't want to take anything from Jack but I'm not stupid, I needed a way to live and with no family or friends, I was going to have to make the condo work. Maybe I was stupid, or I wouldn't be in this position in the first place.
The lawyer my father hired was against the settlement my father proposed and argued that Jack's financial position was much better than mine. No shit. My father threatened to fire the lawyer, and the guy finally caved to my father's demands. The updated settlement was sent to Jack who signed off on it.
Six months after my night with tall, dark and handsome, I was divorced. Jack sent me $1,000 every month even though he wasn't required to. I was still without any family or friends. Since I was working from home, I had no social life. Finally, my mother caved and spoke to me once a week. There wasn't a lot for us to talk about. She kept me up to date on my brothers and their families. There was absolutely nothing going on in my life to tell her.
Jack on the other hand was in the news frequently. He was elected the youngest partner in the financial firm he worked for and voted one of the top financial advisors in the state. I followed him on social media and whatever news I could get. You couldn't say I was stalking him since I never left the house. Jack always looked quite dashing stepping out of a limo with a gorgeous blond on his arm. That picture I received from one of my admirers, telling me that could have been me on his arm. Not the way I looked now.
My mother became increasingly worried about my depression and weight gain. She said I looked like a balloon that was ready to burst. She 'forced' me to see a shrink who actually helped along with some meds. We were working on me forgiving myself. I was losing the weight I gained but still carrying and extra 20 pounds.
