"Tappity tap tap." My husband spends hours on that damn computer. Every time I get near his desk, he closes whatever he's doing. He tells me he's checking our mail, or balancing the check book, or paying bills, but somehow, I doubt it. We seemed to have grown apart lately.
****
"Next time he goes to work, call me. I'll set up a program that records every keystroke he makes." my girlfriend urged.
"But that's spying!" I protested. Jeanna is a computer whiz. My husband Tracy is good, but Jeanna does this for a living. She troubleshoots large infrastructure networks.
"Suit yourself, but if you want to know the truth..."
****
Two days later I called her.
"Are you sure he won't figure it out?" I asked, but she was already typing in commands.
"All done!" she said, spinning around in the chair. "You can access the files from here, or remotely."
"Your a genius!"
"I know."
"What do I owe you?"
"Just let me know what you find out!"
****
Two weeks went by before I had the courage to peek into our computer. What if I was wrong? Or worse, what if I was right? I sat there for an hour before my trembling fingers typed out my password.
"S-N-O-O-P-Y" then "ENTER".
I scrolled down the list of bank and credit card accounts, then I saw it. "Instant Messenger". There were quite a few of them, listed by date. I started with the earliest.
It was a pretty tame conversation between "tracy33657" (my husband) and "sweetstacy2". Apparently they were the last two people in whatever chat room they were in, and started talking.The chat was short and basic. But each night, they seemed to talk more and more, and soon they were "IMing" each other, which is where I came in. They progressively flirted more each time, discussing body licking, and their enjoyment of oral sex. The last conversation ended with my husband hinting at meeting sometime, but that was it.
****
"OK, spill it! What did you find?" Jeanna prodded over lunch.
"Oh, not much...just some innocent flirting with some chick named "Stacy".
"Oh my god! He's having cyber sex!" she said.
"No he's not!" I defended. "She's just a friend...I think."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"Nothing...yet."
****
"Oh now this really bites!" I heard my husband grumble.
"What?" I asked.
"I just got called for jury duty!" he said as he threw the envelope down on the desk. I had to stifle my laughter.
"Aww, poor baby!" I giggled.
****
It was just Tracy's luck that the case he was selected for happened to be a murder trial. The court clerk called to inform me that my hubby would be sequestered for the duration of the trial, which may last several weeks. We've been apart before, as he travels on business occasionally, so I was somewhat used to being alone.
The first three nights I stayed busy with housework and movies. On the fourth night, I sat down at the computer to E-mail some friends, and do a little surfing. I got bored after a couple of hours, and wandered back out to the living room. I flicked on the TV, and was halfway through an old rerun when I heard it. The familar "Brrinnggg" of the instant messenger on our computer. I figured it was Jeanna, as I had just Emailed her earlier, and I ran back into the office. I froze in my tracks, as I stared at the screen. It was "Sweetstacy".
"Hey Tracy, I'll be in town this weekend on business. I figured maybe we could get together for a drink or??? I would LOVE to MEAT! he he he!"
"Sure, a drink or??? would be great!" I typed back. A drink, then I'll scratch your eyes out I thought to myself.
"Great! I'll Email you when I know where I'll be, and then we can go to my room and I'll show you some of my lingerie!"
"K, bye!" I typed as my hubby had several times before in their conversations.
I paced back and forth, steaming. I wondered what she looked like. Was she prettier than me, or was she a dog?
****
"Oh my god! Are you really going to meet this person?" Jeanna asked incredulously.
"Maybe..."sweetstacy" Emailed me last night. I'm supposed to meet her at the hotel lounge at nine. I'll show up a little early and wait. Depends on her size if I confront her, or just walk out."
"Boy, you have balls!"
"Tracy won't when I get through with him!" I laughed. I was pissed, but obviously nothing has happened between them yet.
"Well just make sure you out dress her!"
****
I showed up at eight thirty, and sat at the bar. I was wearing my blue mini dress. Low cut and short, almost slutty. The bartender brought me a gin and tonic, and I waited. A few couples walked in, as well as a few single guys, including a fairly cute one who sat two stools away from me. He smiled and nodded at me then ordered a beer.
He kept looking at his watch, then towards the door.
"Looks like your date stood you up." I said after thirty minutes and three drinks.
"Yeah, you too?" he asked.
"Uh...no, I'm just waiting on a friend." I lied. He just nodded.
"Excuse me" he said to the bartender, "Have there been any messages from a Tracy?"
He just shook his head.
"Pardon me...did you just say Tracy?"
"Yeah, she was supposed to meet me here at nine."
"Uh...you're not by chance, Stacy, are you?" I queried.
"Oh man! YOUR Tracy33657? Damn! you're more beautiful than I ever imagined!"
"You're sweet stacy?" I asked in amazement. This was hilarious! He thought my husband, Tracy was a girl, and dear old hubby must have thought that "sweetstacy" was a girl! Either that or one of them is gay, which I doubt.
"Well shoot! Let me buy you a drink!" he waved the barkeep over. Between the relief of knowing there was no other woman, and the numerous drinks, I was feeling quite happy. I had already forgotten that we were supposed to be enemies, and we dove into conversation as if we were old friends. I learned he was a lingerie salesman, and was on the road a lot.
Somewhere along the way he patted my knee, but forgot to remove his hand. Funny thing was, I didn't mind.
"Hey, why don't we go up to my room, where it's not so smoky." he suggested. The thought brought me back to reality.
"Uh...no...I probably shouldn't." I said, not very convincingly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be forward. We can even leave the door open, if it would make you feel more comfortable, and you can leave whenever you want." His voice was so gentle and soothing, almost hypnotic.
As soon as we entered his room, he rushed over, grabbed a chair and propped the front door open. He opened the mini bar up and poured us both drinks. I sat on the edge of the bed, and he sat at the table. Anytime someone walked past the room, they would peek inside.
"You know, I think I would feel more comfortable with the door closed." I said. He quickly got up and removed the chair, letting the door swing shut.
"Better?"
"Much."