I drove home, unable to focus on anything. Anything, however, did not include the sexual affair that I just video taped between my ex wife and her yoga instructor. Or, should I say, the sex tape that the yoga instructor started and I finished. The camera sat in the driver seat next to me, my life ready to protect it at all costs. I probably would have taken a bullet for it.
After realizing I missed my turn 2 blocks ago, I doubled back and parked in front of my house. I looked at my watch, unable to believe that just ten minutes ago, I was watching Beth's asshole, my ex wife's "bunny hole," drip her yoga instructors semen. Sure, I may have been hidden in a closet behind a one way mirror the instructor set up. And no, they did not realize my presence, just as Beth did not realize her sexual affair, her "yoga" lesson, was being recorded.
It started from a simple Skype call that did not get dropped and it led to me watching my ex wife have Friday night nookie wither her husband, Saturday morning alone time pleasuring herself, and then Saturday afternoon time with Mr. Yoga. I've heard of life changing experiences, and any one of the afore mentioned voyeuristic activities would have been enough for my life. I had hit the voyeur trifecta.
After walking into the house, I dropped the camera in my office. Then, zipping upstairs, I went to check on the status of my open ended Skype call with my ex wife. The one my son turned off from the television, only leaving the television on standby and the camera still running. As I never dropped the call, the feed from the camera stayed live all night and morning. I couldn't wait to watch the recordings.
Into my room I ran, excited for another possible round of nighttime voyeuristic activities. Instead, I stopped in my tracks, staring at the television like I had lost a close friend.
"No Internet Connection."
Fucking Com Piece of Crap Cast. Of all times to interrupt my signal. I reset the television, desperate to restore my connection. The internet had been restored, apparently long ago, but the call was lost forever. I was crushed. The journey was coming to an end.
In less than 24 hours, I had become addicted to a drug I couldn't buy. My ex wife. Her beauty. Her nudity. Her sexual explorations and romps, both with her husband, and without. I lay back on the bed, sad, but also happy, thinking of the rare moments that I would forever be able to treasure. The DVR was a wonderful thing.
I suppose I could call my son Tom and try to recreate the entire string of events. But, it was such a random occurrence, such a happenstance. It wasn't like he had a weekly appointment to forget his shoes and call me in a panic. I could try again next year, but I'd have to remember to hide his shoes. I made a mental note.
I began to focus on the camera recording. I suppose I might be able to use it against Beth, perhaps black mail her into some sexual favors. Maybe even my own yoga class, as the instructor, helping her with her Downward Dog. It could get a little messy, having to explain how I recorded her. But hell, that would probably be the last of her worries.
Her yoga class. Now that was a bit funny. I pictured how Ken would react when he found the camera gone. I laughed, imaging the look on his face as he stared into the closet, noticing my semen on the one way mirror. There was certainly no sneaking back for another show. If he even risked another show.
I sat up. Another show. That was fucking it! I had to get back, to somehow confront Ken. To blackmail Him into letting me watch. He certainly would not want the police involved. The publicity. I absolutely had a solid plan. The cable company may have let me down, but Ken, he was going to let me up.
I ran back down the stairs, desperate to get back. I was flipping out at the brilliance. There was no chance I was going to take the camera back as evidence, as leverage. Ken would probably kick the shit out of me if he somehow thought he could recover it. So, that was not going to happen.
Every single light seemed to be red. I looked at my watch, thinking maybe two hours had gone by. Instead, just over fifteen. My mind raced over the possibilities of another show, in the closet, watching my ex wife pull down her pants. Ogling at her nursing breasts. Masturbating to her violation.
Driving through the last two red lights, I made it to the small strip mall. I parked in the middle as close as I could and got out, jogging slightly. Past the various stores, up to the Panera Bread, reaching the corner, turning, wondering how I should best start the conversation.
"Heyyy!"
I had just slammed into a lady, almost knocking her over. Her hands stretched out, shielding herself from the man in front of her. I stopped,, backing away, focussing on the sight in front of me. A black coat, initially held closed by the woman, now draped open. A tight fitting pair of turquoise yoga pants clung to her sexy legs, displaying her camel toe as yoga pants always do. The small bra-like top outlined a pair of magnificent breasts, nipples slightly visible behind the fabric. My eyes stopped, knowing exactly what I was looking at.
"Jesus, Peter. What the hell is your problem?"
Beth, my ex wife, stood before me. She had just left her one hour sexcapade and her face looked it. Her makeup was inconsistently spread on her lips and face, slightly smeared. Her hair was frazzled and unkempt. Slamming shut her coat, Beth gave me an earful.
"Don't you look at me like that, you perv."
The little, inadvertent show was nothing compared to the porn video I just made of her. Thirty minutes earlier, Beth was practically letting me suck the milk from her tits. Now, she was fuming at the invasion of privacy that just took place. Her anger made me react in a way I might not have otherwise.
"That's a pretty wild outfit. What were you doing?"
Beth stood still, holding her long coat tight against her body. My pleasant conversation wasn't being very well received.
"It's a fucking yoga outfit. What do you think I was doing?"
I smiled, looking at her eyes. Sensing just a hint of post orgasmic bliss floating around inside of them. I couldn't help myself and tried to push her buttons a bit more with my natural charm and wit.
"Fucking yoga. Or maybe, yoga fucking."
Beth's face seemed to flinch at my tame twist of words that came out of her own mouth. But, she made it too easy. Her tone made me want to put her in her place.
"That's real funny, asshole. Get out of my way. You are such a fucking loser. I'm so glad I divorced you."
With that, Beth walked around me. I probably would have just let her go, but that last statement hurt a little more than I would have liked.
"I liked the white pants and blue top better."
Beth twirled, shocked at my statement. The ability of me to know what she was wearing this morning was impossible. The shock and surprise almost erased her anger and hatred.
"What did you just say?"
I looked at her directly in the face, somewhat more confident in the things I could and couldn't say to her with the knowledge that I had. They say knowledge is power. They are right.
"While you played with yourself this morning...."
I wanted to continue with "...in the ass..." but Beth didn't let me finish. Here eyes were wide, almost scared. She stepped back in dismay at my statement.
"Are you spying on me?"
I didn't answer her question, instead marveled at the indirect admission.
"Oh...So you were..."
Beth realized the trap she walked into, that I was just clearly toying with her, being the asshole she thought I was. I never spoke to her in such a manner, so that was perhaps the initial fear. But mostly, the fear came from the fact that I was correct. Beth played it off like she was on to my game.
"Yea, right, in your dreams. You're fucking sick. Tom doesn't deserve you as a dad. I'm telling my lawyer about this."
Beth turned and walked towards her car just across the aisle. She practically ran. I called after her after, barely resisting the urge to just yell her secret out to the world around.
"Well, make sure you tell him where your fingers were when I called!"
With that, Beth got into her car and slammed the door. Backing out, she turned and gave me the middle finger, mouthing the intent of the gesture as she drove off. Fuck me? No, fuck You, Beth. Fuck You.
Christ, one moment you have happy plans and are ready to take on the world. The next moment, you run into your ex wife, and the world collapses on top of you. That is a tremendous skill that Beth has, and I was finding it difficult to get away from. I returned to my task at hand, realizing the need to rush was no longer upon me. I'd most likely find Ken upstairs.
I walked up the steps, listening, expecting Ken to come running down the hall looking for a masked man with a camera. Instead, at the top, I found an empty hall. Silence. I walked to the end, stood outside his studio door, and listened. I thought I could hear a faint yelling.
Pushing open the door, a loud conversation could be heard coming from Ken's office. I walked towards the door and listened, curious to his mood and what he was revealing.
"Bullshit, Ed, don't give me that. I know you came to my office today. Don't ask me how I know. You know how I know!"
A pause. Ken was apparently accusing one of his friends of being the semen bandit. I had to commend him on his sleuth like efforts, but "You know how I know" was probably not something Sherlock Holmes would strategize around. I opened the door, bracing myself for the various possibilities. Ken was sitting at his desk, apparently still not fully dressed from his recent endeavors. He was shirtless.
"Who are you? We're closed. I can't talk now."
Ken was short with me, unconcerned at the stranger appearing in his office after an apparent recent crime. Sherlock would definitely be disappointed. Ken retuned to confronting Ed. I looked at him, speaking loud to make sure he heard me.
"I'M THE GUY WITH YOUR CAMERA."
Ken paused, staring at me in shocked acknowledgment. He hung up on Ed without even saying goodbye. He stood up.
"Now stay behind that desk, or I'm out of here."
I failed to think about Ken beating the shit out of me, before I could speak, as a possibility. I might have gotten the better of him if I was brandishing some type of lethal weapon, which unfortunately, I was not.
