Annette left for her girls night out with a funny look on her face. I no longer let things like that bother me, having seen what she was really up to. I was trying decide how to approach the end game.
I'd seen more than any man should ever have to see. And it had driven me to distraction. It had turned me completely over to the other team.
I'd been in touch with Bob a couple days before, and we planned for a quiet meeting at the Sussex, sort of in public but very professional. I'd be in a jacket and he'd be in a jacket, and we would just be a couple guys having drinks and talking business.
Which in a sense, we were. I owed him a couple thousand dollars in surveillance fees, and we were discussing something else that night, something else he'd discovered about Annette, her friends and her co-workers.
The Sussex isn't far from our house, and I wanted to meet there for that reason. We would certainly not be suspected of anything. Annette would certainly not show up there. And I liked the food.
Bob was all business when I arrived. We drove in separate cars on purpose, and I had no illusions about anything happening other than having a drink and our first normal conversation.
He had other ideas.
Bob had taken it upon himself to expand his surveillance on Annette and came to the restaurant with another manila envelope. When I saw it, I assumed he was going to give me the photos he'd already taken, which was part of our contract.
But as soon as I sat down, I could tell this was something else.
"This is probably not going to sit well with you John," he started. "But your wife is a very active girl. And so are her friends."
I couldn't imagine anything to be more damning that what I'd already seen with my own eyes. Your wife getting banged by a dozen men, including her bosses, in the light of day in a public park was grounds for divorce, lawsuits and hellish retribution. And I was ready for it all.
Bob was seated across the table me with a blank look in his eyes.
"She's a lesbian too," he said.
I laughed out loud, disturbing the people seated next to us. I stared back at him wide-eyed, as he glanced down at the envelope.
"Oh God," I said. "What the hell is in there now?"
He'd followed her to Bette's house one afternoon, saw her drop off a bag from Victoria's Secret then took a few shots of her coming back out of the house an hour or so later. After he saw Bette leave too, he walked to the back fence and took a look. A few hours later, he'd set up a webcam over looking the pool.
As I leafed through the photos in the envelope, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he pulled a tablet up from the seat beside him and turned it on. Immediately, it was a look at Bette's pool with four naked women frolicking in the water. Bette, Nan, Misty and yes, Annette.
They were mostly kissing and fondling. They were hammered. There was no sound, just four drunk naked married women in a pool. Almost immediately they staggered out, wrapped towels around them and disappeared from the cam.
"That was live," he said.
I was speechless. I shook my head and lowered my voice.
"She's a fucking whore," I said.
Bob smiled.
"John, she's horny as hell," he said. "She can't get enough. She's a sexual animal."
I had a hard-on again. My cock was throbbing, and I was flushed and I was madder at myself than my lost wife. I suddenly felt sorry for her. I tried to remember the last time we had sex, tried to remember how it was, what it consisted of, then I realized I knew exactly how it was and exactly what it consisted of.
