A Secret Revealed

I looked into the mirror of my bedroom and adjusted my tie, trying for a second time to get it lined up with my belt. My son had his middle school jazz concert and I was getting ready to make my appearance. Beth, my ex-wife, was certainly going to be making an appearance, and for some reason, I felt the need to show up well dressed.

Seinfeld was on in the background on the TV, playing the final stand-up routine to close the show. That meant it was 6, and I had plenty of time to stop and get dinner before the show started at 7. I was not going to arrive late, having received a fairly condescending email the last time I completely forgot about an event. Even after 4 years of divorce, she managed to still push my buttons.

As I made a final adjustment, a loud chirp came from the television. I looked, thinking the usual warning was going to scroll across the bottom about an amber alert. Instead, I saw the Skype icon pop up and my son's picture was displayed - Tom in his baseball uniform. I looked for my phone, instinctively thinking I should pick it up and answer. After a moment, I realized I needed the television remote.

Technology is great for divorced dads. Sure, I saw Tom every weekend, and every other day during the week. But, for the off days, we kept in contact and often Skyped during hockey games or playing X Box. Still, with his concert coming up, I figured he was on his way and wondered why he wasn't texting or calling. I got on the bed, reached across to the side table, and grabbed the remote. With a couple pushes, I answered the call.

Sure enough, there he was, standing in front of a camera, with a large king bed right behind him. Instantly I realized he was not in his room. For some reason, it looked like he was in his mom's room. His face was staring into space, obviously looking at the television with the camera slightly above him.

"Hey, what are you doing? Where are you?"

He spoke hurriedly, not in a panic, but not wanting to chit chat. His voice was soft, as if he was trying to hide from someone.

"I can't find my dress shoes. Are they there?"

The usual last minute panic when something he needs at mom's house is at dad's. It was becoming a weekly habit as he got older since Beth and I stopped packing for the back and forth trips. It was her idea, to help him become responsible. It was creating more problems than it solved.

"I'll look. Hang on."

I moved out of my room and into his. With a quick search, sure enough, they were right in the middle of the closet. I grabbed them, not really annoyed. I had become very accustomed to the requests. "I can't find my phone." "Is my math book over there?" "I'm looking for my coat." On and on.

Returning to my room, I held them up as I came back into view. He looked relieved. I stared again at the background, again curious as to where he was.

"Yea, I've got them. But, where are you?"

"I can't find my phone, so I'm using mom's TV. Can you bring them to school now?"

His mom's room. Beth would have flipped if she knew I was being given a behind the scene look into her private life. The woman who blocked all Facebook and Twitter views of her profile, who allowed no posts or tweets to mention her or show her face. I began to look around, take in the décor, the sights, when suddenly her shrill voice yelled in the distance.

"Tom! Let's go! You are going to be late!"

Before I could answer, he yelled back.

"Coming!"

Then, with a final look, he spoke softly.

"Thanks dad, I'll meet you by my locker."

With that, he turned to run, pointing the remote at the television and throwing it on the bed. I grabbed the shoes, knowing that he would be there before me and I had better get going. With a final look at the Martha Stewart inspired room on my television, the family pictures on the wall, the mounds of pillows on the bed, I turned off my tv and left. Inside, I was glad he left the shoes over. Being able to quietly resolve Tom's crisis's was one of my little pleasures.

Luckily, it was early enough that I didn't have to park far away from the school. The mad arrival of parents was at least 30 minutes away, so at least I would be avoiding that. Kids were being dropped off, running into school with youthful excitement. The atmosphere always put a smile on my face.

Sure enough, as I entered the school and turned into Tom's hallway, he stood by his locker waiting for me. He smiled, relieved when he saw me. Tom's face and reaction always made the work worth it, and as a single guy, it was one of my few sources for positive reinforcement.

"Thanks dad."

He took the shoes from me and started to take off his tennis shoes.

"No problem. Did mom notice?"

"Yea. But I told her I left them in my locker."

The usual response to any lost item.

"Smart. So, how about a little hockey tonight when you get back?"

Xbox live was our standard way to relax, whether together, or when he was at Beth's. I hardly ever won, but the back and forth banter was always what I looked forward to.

"I'm going over to Patrick's. I cant."

I was disappointed, but I tried not to show it.

"No biggy. Maybe tomorrow."

With that, he turned and zipped down the hall, probably already a little late. Judging from the other kids zipping around, he probably wasn't the only one. He turned back as he ran.

"I'll beat you tomorrow!"

With that, he was gone.

I found the theater and picked a spot in the back left. I learned that leaving a concert was worse than getting off an airplane. Families talking, grandparents walking slow, and the general mob in no hurry to leave. Being one of the first, I sat down, opened up my phone, and started to play some chess.

Slowly, the crowd filtered in. I said my friendly hellos to other parents, recognizing that I was somewhat out of place in a sea of married couples. Other than the fact I also had a son, I had little in common with the adults strolling as close as they could to the stage. I sensed a familiar presence, and as I turned to look to my left, Beth came walking by with her husband Frank.

They had a daughter a little over a year ago, and Frank was carrying her as Beth led the way. She was wearing her usual black, soft cotton dress that allowed her to look motherly, but sexy. And she was definitely still beautiful. Long blonde hair, soft pale skin, with deep blue eyes that were what I called "doe eyes" when we were married. She wasn't incredibly tall, but I never cared. I ogled her soft butt as she walked down the hall, burning a hole in her dress with my eyes as I remembered the dimples at the base of her back.

Every time I saw her, I remembered why I fell in love. But, every time I talked to her, I remembered why we were divorced. Everything had to be criticized by Beth. It was in her nature. I had patience for the first couple of years, but as they say, "Behind every hot girl is a guy who is tired of screwing her." I became that guy.

There was no cheating by either of us. Despite everything, we stayed faithful to each other beginning to end. The problem was, years of marriage eroded any patience or tolerance I had for Beth's antics. While dating, and when fresh off a honeymoon, I thought Beth's mood changes were part of her charm. She could be extremely happy and excited on week about a planned vacation. Then, the next week, all she did was complain about the location, the hotel, or the cost.

When my patience turned to aggravation and then push back, our marriage was on the fast track for the 50 percent club. The first year of divorce was a bit difficult, mainly because I had a hard time not coming home to Tom every day. And, I did regret not realizing the divorce was imminent. I would have liked to get in a last couple sexual romps with Beth. As I said, she was beautiful and I loved sleeping with her despite the sex on the back, "don't touch me there" attitude. Every time I saw her, it was a battle between regret and relief. Tonight, regret was winning by a mile.

Beth turned down the row of seats and I was immediately drawn to the size of her chest. A natural B cup, Beth had the swollen breasts of a nursing woman. They were clearly not in proportion to the rest of her body, evidently providing more weight to her front than she was used to. Beth's shoulders seemed to slouch, causing her chest to hang into her body. But, as she straightened up to look around and make sure Frank and Emma were next to her, Beth's oversized chest was thrust out in all of its glory. I was honestly a bit jealous of Frank as regret sank in deeper.

Sensing my eyes, Beth looked in my direction. We made eye contact, and her face clearly gave me a "Hey, you fucking asshole, glad you could make it on time you loser." I didn't have to read her mind because she spoke her mind so often. I just gave her a half smile and moved my eyes down to the cleavage she was proudly displaying. She quickly turned and sat down with an annoyed look on the side of her face. Sadly, her chest sank out of view.

The concert went in three stages. 6th graders, then 7th, and then 8th. Tom was in 8th, so I spent the first hour just staring at Beth. Her hair was a bit longer than I remembered, but still perfectly straight and blonde. She would occasionally turn to Emma, giving her a loving smile, showing her bright white and perfectly straight teeth. The back of her dress had an opening that mirrored the front, showing the upper portion of her back. I closed my eyes, remembering the countless times I would stare at that back while she kneeled before me. I was starting to get aroused in the middle of the concert.

Just as 7th graders were ending, Emma began to squirm. Frank stood up, taking the lull in the action as an opportunity to try and calm her down. Beth now sat, alone, and I imagined myself next to her, putting my arm around her, staring into the gap between her breasts. I remembered the countless movies where she would pull out one of her boobs in the back row of the theater and jerk me off. She was always so careful to try and catch my cum, holding a napkin with her left hand while she stroked me with her right.

I wondered what her naked body looked like now that she was in her mid 30s. I was lucky enough to have enjoyed it during her 20s, but for some reason, she looked sexier now than she did when she was younger. Her butt had yet to start the middle age sag, her face still glowed, wrinkle free, and her eyes were as blue as ever. I was desperate to walk up to her, pull down the front of her dress, and see just how large her breasts had become. To expose her womanly treasures once more to me, free for my molestation. Her nipples had to be huge.

My mind was suddenly brought back to focus by the loud clapping around me. The raging erection I had made it clear that I was fantasizing for the entire portion of Tom's concert. I adjusted myself and joined the crowd in clapping but stared at Beth's ass with the fabric caught between her cheeks. I undressed her with my eyes, lifting up her dress, staring at the white ass I remembered from our marriage.

The crowd spilled out and I led the charge. I rounded the corner and headed to the front of the school, almost running over Frank as he held Emma. I gave my usual quick hello, and he simply nodded and moved out of my way. It was our usual cold exchange.

Wanting to avoid the traffic, I walked quickly to my car and left the school. It was another moment in Tom's life that I'd always wish I could travel back to. His baseball games, his band concerts, the vacations and school trips. Every event that slowly seemed to build his life was slowly chipping away at mine. I drove home, slightly emotional, and as I thought of Tom, Beth slipped from my mind as did my erection.

I made a sandwich and figured I'd watch the Cubs game up in bed. Another big Friday night for me, home alone in one of the rare moments I wished I had gotten married again. I had many opportunities, but eventually, I'd spend too much time with a married couple and lose the urge. The grass was always greener, but lately, I was finding that few married couples had green grass. They merely used too much fertilizer until one day, the grass died and had to be replaced.

I got out of my clothes and plopped onto the bed in my boxers, ready for down time. I took a swig of beer, bit off a chunk of my sandwich, and turned on the television. A brief moment of wonder took me over as I stared at an empty bedroom on my screen, softly lit, with an abundance of pillows on the bed. Then it hit me. I was once again staring at Beth's bedroom.

Stunned amazement washed over me as I realized that neither Tom nor I ended the Skype call. Instead, we just turned off our televisions and assumed the other person would end it. Tom left in a rush to get to the concert, as did I. As the situation became apparent, my amazement turned to curiosity and excitement. I sat up in my bed, eyes glued to the screen as I took in Beth's bedroom.

Without Tom to distract me, I focused on the pictures. Beth and Frank, over her bed, with Tom and Emma in front of them. A picture of Beth's mom and dad, good old Sally and Mike, on the table next to her bed. The walls were a soft putty color, contrasted by the blue bedspread and white pillows. The king size headboard seemed to be the centerpiece, a deep brown wood that looked rich and opulent.

A door was on either side of their bed. On the left, the bedroom opened to a hallway and on the right, it looked like a bathroom. The rooms beyond were dark as the only light being provided was from lamp on the bedside table. There was complete silence, with nothing happening, but it was the most exciting show I had ever watched. I was clearly invading Beth's privacy.

I tried to rationalize as I stared. I wasn't breaking any laws. I didn't hack in or install a camera. It was a natural, probably common accident. I suppose if it was anyone else, I would have hung up and gone on with life. But, as the opportunity presented itself, as my mind began to wander, I found my hand slipping inside of my boxers from a new found excitement.

My hand merely moved around in my boxers, sort of acknowledging my hardness, letting my second brain know that things might get interesting and to be ready. My breathing had picked up, my mouth dried up, and my eyes opened up. I tried to calculate how long it was since I left the show, the usual after concert hangout time, and then how long it might take Beth to drop off Tom and drive home. I figured she had to be home at any minute. The problem was, each minute seemed like an hour.

Pots eventually boil, watched or not. The television was still silent, but suddenly, a hall light seemed to turn on. Every inch of my body buzzed with anticipation, wondering what sequence of events would unfold. I held the remote in my hand, ready to quickly end the call if there was any sign that I was going to be discovered. For all I knew, the television in their room was on and my figure was on display, lying on my bed, hands in my boxers.

A shadowed seemed to float by in the open door to the left and the sound of a door opening rang out through my television. I waited, eager for some indication as to what was going on in Beth's house. After a few minutes, another shadow appeared, and in walked Frank. My eyes were glued to his face, heart racing, waiting to see if he had any indication that I was watching him.

Taking off his suit coat, Frank walked right towards me and apparently into a closet off camera to my left. He paid no attention to the television. There was not the slightest hint that my eyes had been watching him. The closet door closed and he walked in front of the camera, around the bed, and into the bathroom.

The light in the bathroom was turned on, letting the sink come into focus on the right side with what appeared to be a shower in the distance. Frank moved to the left, again out of sight, and I listened to him relieve himself. After about 30 seconds, he stopped, appeared at the sink, and washed his hands while admiring himself in the mirror. Frank exposed his teeth, ran his hands over his face, and pushed back his hair.

Without any sound or warning, Beth appeared in the doorway and softly shut it. I could hear a click as she apparently locked it. Frank must have heard it to as he walked out of the bathroom and looked across at Beth.

"Is Ems down?"

Beth looked at him lovingly, blonde hair floating over her shoulders. She looked angelic with the soft light from the night stand shimmering off her pale face. She responded softly.

"She's out. I just hope she stays down."

Turning, Beth switched on what looked like a baby monitor on a long, short dresser to the left of the room. Frank walked right in front of the television again, moving softly over to Beth by the dresser. Beth was now admiring herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair, assessing how well she must have looked for the concert. Frank moved in behind her, gently putting his arms around her waist.

"I hope she stays down too. You look so good tonight. And no Tom."

Beth looked at him in the mirror, blue eyes wide and open. A subtle grin appeared as she tilted her head.

"Hm. Must be your lucky night."

Lucky night. It was going to be mine, not Franks. I was being given a behind the scenes, unbelievably personal view into the bedroom activities of a married couple. My ex wife, on top of that. I could not believe the opportunity was thrown into my lap. And then it hit me. I had to record it. To capture it. This was a once in a lifetime event. Like an old fashion gunslinger, I grabbed the remote, hit record, and resumed my voyeuristic activity in a matter of seconds.

Putting his head on her left shoulder, Frank gently kissed her ear. Beth did look good tonight. Her hair flowed like strands of soft gold. Her face was flushed and blemish free, with lips painted a deep ruby red. Beth's profile was a perfect hourglass, slightly larger at the top. I felt my erection throb just looking at her in the black dress as it hugged her body. Beth accepted the compliment without a word, knowing it to be true, standing proud with shoulders back. She ran her fingers through her hair, pretending to be unsatisfied.

"My hair is getting skunky. I might have to get it done."

Skunky, meaning streaked with faint dark lines around her roots. A term she often used when trying to find some fault with her appearance. It was a tame criticism, the only types she accepted when commenting about her shortcomings. Frank wasn't biting, moving his nose into her hair.

"It looks so nice. Everybody tonight wished they had your hair."

Franks hands were holding still around her waist, but his face pushed into the back of Beth's head, kissing her, burying himself in her silky lochs. Beth looked at herself, smiling at the compliment, knowing it to be true without having to hear anything from anyone else. Beth smiled wryly.

"Just my hair, huh?"

Franks face moved back onto her shoulder. He smiled, moving his hands down along the sides of her legs.

"Your legs too. They are so firm and sexy. The best looking legs in the place tonight."

Frank slid down so he could run his hands down to her ankles, moving around them, and then running up the back of her calves. I pushed down my boxers, becoming more excited and aroused as I watched the caressing and listened to the verbal foreplay. Frank ran his hands up the back inside of her dress, caressing Beth's thighs. Beth turned her head to look at her profile in the mirror, holding up her hair, letting Frank massage her legs under her dress.

"What else do you think they liked?"

Frank pushed his hands up the back of Beth's legs, forcing her dress to rise up. I tried to squeeze away the feelings of excitement, almost bursting as the white cheeks of Beth's ass were exposed, split by a black thong that disappeared between her legs. Frank pushed her dress up high, kissing her left butt cheek, while the front of her dress still hung low.