I parked in our driveway, as I was getting out of my car I saw my sexy wife Ruth jogging towards me.
I waited by the back bumper for her, her wavy straw blonde hair flowing behind her, braless boobs bouncing; as she got closer, I could see her face light up, her smile broaden, but what really caught my attention was her erect nipples ... that proved how happy she was to see me.
I set down my computer bag, "Hello hon." I opened my arms.
She put her arms around my neck, as mine went around her waist, I lifted and twirled her as we kissed, I set her down. "You're a bit sweaty."
She giggled her big blue eyes gazing seductively up at me,
"I went for a run." She picked up my computer bag.
"I'll get you a beer, you sit on the deck, and I'll quickly shower." I patted her behind as I followed her inside.
"I'll join you; I like getting into those hard-to-reach places."
"Brock, I'm rather tired, I had hard day ... errands ... housework" she kissed my cheek then moved toward the bathroom, "Can we order in? I've been so busy all day."
"Sure hon, what would you like?"
No reply she was closing the bathroom door.
I nodded, but something about this seemed off, this really isn't like Ruth at all.
I removed my suitcoat and tie, got a cold beer, went to the deck.
I shrugged it off as stress of her day; everyone can have an off day.
I admit, I was put off, I'd been anticipating our usual sexually intimate Friday evening. Ruth had never turned down sex on a Friday... that was our tradition, so to speak.
Our Fridays had become special; a home cooked meal, wine, movie night, cuddle on the couch, usually leading to intimate sex whether right there on the sofa, on the floor, or a fun, giggling chase into the bedroom.
As I sipped the cold beer, confusion turned to a feeling of gratitude to my life.
I wondered if she was just changing things up, brushed me off playing hard to get; should I strip off my clothes and join her, lift her arms above her head and take her passionately, forget about supper for an hour or two.
The thought aroused me, I dismissed it though, she really did seem to want me to leave her alone.
BUT ... it's Friday, our time, I chugged my beer, gazing across our back yard, I had to justify that nagging feeling in my gut. That uneasy feeling of suspicion; something didn't seem right.
Why wasn't she home? She always makes supper on Fridays; never turned down intimacy.
Then my arrival home scenario hit me, why hadn't I seen her running as I drove down the street on my way home, I dismissed the thought, maybe something had me looking the other way.
Then another WTF thought; why on a Friday, how strange for her to leave the house to go for a run in a dress and sandals ... and braless, none of that added up; but my mind disregarded it all as paranoia. Yet everything seemed slightly tilted.
That beer went down fast, I got another, thinking about what Ruth might prefer for supper.
Ruth worked 10 hours 4 days a week as a data entry programmer at an insurance company, had Fridays and weekends off. I worked 8 - 4 weekdays as a research analyst for a large law firm.
When Ruth came through the patio doors, holding out a replacement cold beer, my arm went around her waist, I playfully pulled her to my lap, "I know what I want for dessert, been thinking about your sexy body all day."
I thought it unusual she was wearing a jogging suit now, and a dress earlier when she was running.
My fingers ran up her thigh, I used my teeth to tug down the zipper on the front of the jogging jacket. I nestled my face in her cleavage, a gentle motorboat on the soft warm flesh, she put her fingers in my hair, and I nibbled until her nipple was erect.
Ruth tipped my head up for a French kiss.
As she pulled back. "I'm starving, did you order?"
"No, but I know what I want to eat." My mouth returned to the protruding nub, and my forefinger rubbed her camel toe.
Ruth twisted away, pulled her phone from her waistband,
"I'd like Mexican," She tapped the keys on her cell phone, as she walked away.
I felt like I'd been slapped in the face, HARD. Ruth never turned down my sexual advances before, never ... and on a Friday the one day we've always been promiscuous.
I sat stunned as she chatted on her phone; in my mind a beast reared its ugly head, a grotesque demonic dragon, shot fire and screamed, 'she cheated' and for the first time in my life the thought of Ruth cheating on me was raised, but based on her behavior today, it was the only thing that made sense.
I felt like throwing up, the love of my life, all we'd accomplished over the years, why would she throw it away; I couldn't wrap my head around that; surely there must be another explanation.
I sensed a shift in our Friday night connection, undistinguishable but there like a dense fog. I was second guessing everything I thought I should say or do, so I waited for her to initiate anything, nothing she seemed content to be alone in her own world; any attempt I made to be intimate was thwarted.
We were silent, like the air was heavy, too thick to speak. We'd always had something to share, our conversations were always easy, especially on Fridays.
The silence was deafening and scary; the distance between us might as well have been an ocean.
{Oh Ruth, please say it isn't so.'}
I set the takeout on the coffee table; Ruth returned from the kitchen with plates and utensils.
Ruth didn't sit beside me on the sofa after filling her plate, which further fueled my sickening concerns.
She put down her plate to read a text, she never placed importance on her phone before.
Giggling, she tapped the keys, replying to a text. Ruth noticed my expression and offered an explanation.
"Oh, Mary just sent me a cute doggy video." Ruth giggled often during the several minutes they communicated.
I finished eating, I took the containers and dishes to the kitchen, Ruth remained enthralled with her cell phone, like a teen with a high school dance approaching.
I returned to the sofa, with a bottle of wine and 2 glasses, I worked the corkscrew, Ruth put down her phone, "Why don't you invite the guys over to watch the game tomorrow? A few girls from work wanna have a girl's night, a few drinks, just a fun evening of bonding with coworkers at the bar."
Again, I was suspicious, something seemed more than just a bit off at this suggestion; her delivery, the way her voice quivered, the lack of eye contact when she presented it.
I poured the wine, thinking, doubting her, maybe I'm reading too much into it; why have I instantly lost trust with my wife?
BUT... my gut was knotted with an unfamiliar ache.
The timing? Like isn't a night out with coworkers planned in advance to allow people to make arrangements? This spontaneous get together with coworkers was just planned now? on their day off? ... for the very next day, not next week? My Spidey senses tingled, I wanted to grab her phone and assure myself she was being truthful.
Today had too many subtle behavior nuances, but nothing about her behavior sat right in my gut, my curiosity piqued, my mind went to the dark side and suspicious paranoia was forefront.
The evening was tense, unlike any before. What little that was said was non emotional and without any intimacy, like BFF's small talk, not partners, not a married couple, not like lovers.
Ruth went to bed like any other night; not like a 'Friday night.'
We cuddled briefly, she kissed me, turned, snuggle bummed me and went to sleep.
I felt like crying as I believed my world as I knew it was crumbling.
I lay in the dark, struggling, my mind replaying today, nothing added up with any reason other than she cheated.
Had I been missing the signs of our marriage failing.
I had my suspicions a few times over the years but ... maybe I ignored the real signs. I hear all the time about wives cheating because they feel ignored, and when someone else pays them the special attention they seek, the lines of morals and marriage vows and values blur; then innocently, slowly they get justified and crossed.
I continually made certain to not let that happen to my relationship, I was attentive to Ruth, listened attentively, we dated, we often role played to keep it spicy and interesting, we had our Friday nights, we had a strong relationship ... didn't we?
That ominous doubt loomed large.
I tightened my embrace on Ruth, nuzzled her neck, I needed to feel her warmth for my pacification.
I ran through the inventory of our years together. We made love 2 or 3 times a week, we had weekly date nights, I was always attentive, conscientious, our conversations were open, honest. I always devoted myself to understanding and discussing her feelings and always put her first. I felt confident I was better than most husbands; today's actions, tonight's behavior, just didn't make sense. If she did have a weak moment and cheated, she could admit it; we could survive it.
I let Ruth sleep in, hoping it was just stress of a bad day, and we'd make up for last night by staying in bed all morning.
I made waffles, sausages, coffee, and squeezed fresh orange juice, I woke her by brushing a few blonde locks behind her ear and a light kiss on her cheek.
"Made you breakfast in bed, sweety." Ruth stretched, yawned, fluffed her pillows, and leaned back half sitting against the headboard, adjusted the covers.
I set the tray on her lap.
"This is nice, Brock, did I forget an important date?" She grinned and picked up her coffee.
"No, I just wanted to show I still love you, nothing special."
She smiled cut a sausage, cut a waffle, skewered them, and put them in her mouth nodding.
She ate silently.
I was expecting more, at minimum a hearty thank-you.
The plate empty, she set it aside.
