I had gotten divorced several years ago, and since then had preferred remaining single living alone. Although I was in my early fifties, I was still in pretty good shape and had been told I had "bed-room" eyes, whatever that meant. I had certainly enjoyed the occasional fling here and there, but had shied away from anything long-term, which had severely limited my options. I was almost content to remain far more intimate with my own hand, until the perfect woman came along. And to top things off, she'd been living next door to me for several years now.
I had guessed Jocelyn (though she preferred being called Joy) to be in either her late thirties, or early forties, though I had of course never asked. They had lived there next to me for several years, Joy and her husband Dave, along with their two daughters Amy and Rebecca. Ironically, my ex-wife and Joy had become fairly good friends, though I hadn't much cared for Dave since the day I had first met him. He was an alcoholic for one thing, but he was also fairly abusive to his wife, and most likely the girls as well. I had felt bad for what I knew was going on, but there was little that we could do about it, except to be there for them in support. Or... if things got even more abusive than we suspected, to step in if necessary. Thankfully, that never happened. Ironically, other things did.
In time, I think I became better friends with Joy than my own wife was. After she had kicked Dave out of the house, I'd begun doing more and more to help out whenever I could. Something that Joy and the girls had very much appreciated. Like I said, we'd eventually gotten to the point where we could sit down and have a cup of coffee and discuss just about anything. I'd come to respect and appreciate Joy's honesty, and openness with me, which is maybe why things had become a bit strained between Cindy and me. I had a much better relationship with the next door neighbor than I had with my own wife. And oddly enough...there wasn't a damn thing going on between us, not even once hinted at.
And to be honest, maybe it was because of that, that I didn't see things coming, or what was happening in front of my own face. But Joy had. And eventually it reached the point where she felt it was necessary to open my eyes a little, as hard as that was for her to do. I had just finished mowing her lawn and had stepped over to accept a glass of fresh lemonade from her when she asked me to take a seat at her patio table. I could see by the look on her face that she was troubled, especially by the way she seemed to fidget around in her seat, even spinning her own glass of lemonade around in circles, trying to find the courage to say whatever she was going to say perhaps.
"What is it Joy? What's wrong?" I finally asked, forcing the issue. She took a sip of her drink, and then set it down, trying to steady herself.
"I've really struggled with this for a long time now," she began, looking even more nervous and confused.
"Go on," I said steeling myself, though again...some deep-down part of me already knew where this was headed.
"I didn't want to say anything to you, until I was sure. After everything you've done for us...the way you've been there for us, and the good friend you've become to me after Dave finally left. The last thing I ever wanted was to say or do anything to hurt you, or cause you pain. Until now."
Now it was my turn to sit back, and spin my glass in circles waiting for her to continue.
I can honestly say I really had few vices, save for one perhaps. I loved to golf on Sundays. I made a good living, enough so, that Cindy had whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. Maybe it was my way of trying to keep things even between us, since I felt that I did more than my fair-share, not only with work...but around the house too. So spending half the day golfing with my friends on Sunday's didn't seem like a whole lot to ask. And Joy of course knew all that.
"At first, I didn't really think too much of things..." she began again. "Sometimes I would see you leave in the morning to go golfing. And then not ten or fifteen minutes later I'd see Cindy leave. I figured back then, that maybe she had something going with a group of friends, though I found it a bit odd she never mentioned anything to me about that as close as the two of us supposedly were. The thing is, I began to take a closer notice of it. Always on Sunday, shortly after you left, she would. And then she'd return in a couple of hours, long before you did. I began to notice subtle things when she did. And I hate to say that because by now I was actually spying on her, that those subtle things included her obvious dishevelment whenever she came home. Like she'd been ridden hard, and put away wet...so to speak."
As hard as this was to hear, I sat quietly, patiently, taking a sip of my drink again as though some sort of signal for Joy to continue. Which she did.
"Even with my suspicions, I didn't want to say anything. Not unless I was one hundred percent sure. Even then, I hesitated Jack. We've become good friends, and I didn't want to lose that, or do anything that would jeopardize the friendship we did have. Until the day came that she didn't leave after you left. Instead...he did. As far as I was concerned, though maybe it shouldn't have been my concern, the moment I saw him sneak up into the house shortly after you'd left was the last straw for me. I knew then, I had to tell you at least this much, and then let you decide for yourself how you wanted to handle it. I just hope...this doesn't destroy our friendship," she smiled worriedly. I stood up, walked over...and kissed her on the forehead.
"Thank you," I said softly. And then turned and left for home. It was the hardest week of my entire life. Trying to pretend everything was normal. The following Sunday, I left to play golf as usual, though I'd already told my friends well ahead of time that I wouldn't be able to make it as I had business out of town. The only person I had told about what was going on was my best friend Roger, also a golf buddy, and someone that Cindy had never met. We hurriedly switched cars (and clubs) and then I parked a short distance away from the house...waiting. I figured if she left, I could easily follow her. Or...if he showed up at my place instead, then well...though I had all sorts of thoughts and scenarios racing around inside my head when she actually came out. So...I followed.
To make a long story short here, I basically caught her with her pants down so to speak. I followed her to a nearby hotel. Saw her get out of the car and walk up to a particular room where she was met and quickly ushered inside. A hundred bucks, and verification of my ID to the nervous looking desk clerk, finally convinced him to run me a key. After assuring him I wasn't there to cause any trouble...and wouldn't, I took my digital camera with me, put it on video and started recording. I stood listening outside the door for a moment until I was reasonably sure they were already at it. After all, time was precious here. Seconds later I was standing in the doorway recording everything I needed to confirm what I already knew. What I hadn't known until now, was the guy she was with...a married man himself, and someone she worked with, happened to be her lover. So in the long run...I knew this would really turn out well for me if I played my cards right.
On Monday, I filed for divorce, with very specific stipulations. Yeah, in a way I guess you could say it was blackmail. Unless Cindy walked...and I mean walked...I threatened to expose her affair and who she'd been having it with where she worked. Needless to say, they both caved in at that imploring me to not say anything to anyone...though I kept my little video as insurance against that until after the divorce was final.
Six month's passed, and I had quickly gotten over all this. Though I was a bit gun-shy about really getting serious with anyone again. The occasional overnighter with someone was fine with me, though there were aspects of that, which I did miss.
