Don't Ever Look Back-Chapter III
Changes that occur between people in relationships usually occur over a long period of time. In my case, my entire world had changed in a just few short weeks destroying a perception that had been built since childhood. Worse still, I had instigated the events, somehow unable to let old situations remain distant memories.
I recalled our breakfast that morning and her acting in her normal upbeat way showing no sign of her indiscretions. It angered me to know that she could so cavalierly violate our vows and exhibit no guilt. In our entire time together, I had never touched Sarah in anger, but at that moment I knew that if she was before me, I could not keep myself from striking her.
As I sat there contemplating the new reality, spinning between anger and my own remorse for opening Pandora's Box, I wondered what life was going to be like going forward. Could I stay with her? Did she want to stay with me? Would Malcolm leave our world now that he had taken her again or was this a situation soon to be filled with drama? And what about our children? What would they think about their blessed mom if they knew the sordid truth?
That evening, I arrived home before Sarah and was sipping bourbon on the patio when she arrived all bright eyes and smiling. I couldn't help but consider that she was still basking in the afterglow of the thorough fucking she had received the previous night.
"Hi honey. I'm going to get a glass of wine. Do you want another drink?' she said with a smile.
"Sure, it's bourbon," I replied, inwardly seething while forcing myself to put on a good face.
She made the drinks and then came out to the patio having shed her shoes. Sitting opposite of me, she put her feet in my lap and gave me an impish grin.
"Let's eat out tonight. I heard the new French place on Holcombe is good," she suggested, and when I gave her a disinterested nod, she added, "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just a bit tired," I lied.
"Okay, what do you think? We can go early," she persisted.
"That's fine," I replied.
My wife talked and I listened while she drank her wine, and then she announced she was going to change and left. I sat brooding for a few more minutes, but the thought of her body bearing the marks of Malcolm's sex piqued my interest and I walked towards our bedroom hoping to find some evidence.
Our bedroom has "his and her" bathrooms with her large clothes closet within, and as I approached, I could see that the door was not completely closed. There was about a quarter-inch crack that provided a nice opportunity to spy if I was careful, so I opened the door to my bathroom quietly to provide an escape path if necessary, then inched quietly to her door and peered inside.
Sarah was sitting in front of her mirror in just a thong playing with her makeup, and as the video had suggested, her breasts were covered in hickeys from Malcolm's aggressive sucking. She didn't seem to be concerned about her state and I put it down to the fact that I had almost never entered her bathroom. In all our years of marriage, I had treated it almost like her sanctuary.
Soon, she stood and went into her closet before reappearing, now completely naked, and I had to catch my breath to stifle a gasp when I saw her pelvis. Sarah had adopted the fashion of shaving herself smooth, which allowed a good view of her pussy, and the delicate flesh, which had always looked like a teenager's even after two kids, was deeply red and swollen. There was no question that right before me was all the evidence I needed to prove her infidelity.
However, rather than confront her, I started to change my clothes deciding to put off the reckoning until I had thought the matter completely through. Finishing first, I was in the den having another drink when she appeared looking marvelous. It made me shudder as I wondered what my life would be like with her gone, and although Sarah noticed my odd look, she didn't probe.
I barely tasted my food and was a lousy conversationalist at dinner, which she picked up on quickly, but other than give me the occasional questioning look, she remained silent. In truth, most of my time was spent knocking back the better part of a good Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and Sarah, realizing how much I had to drink, drove us home. Back in our house, I opened a bottle of Cabernet and poured myself another big glass.
"Sweetheart, are you okay? You're barely talking and you're drinking a lot. Way more than normal. What's wrong?" she asked, still oblivious to the reason.
"Why don't you do a striptease for me?" I said to her as I flopped down in a big leather chair, and instantly I saw a flash of panic in her eyes, although she quickly recovered.
"I don't think you would be up to it tonight," she responded while forcing a smile.
"Come on darling strip for me. Turn on the jazz station," I said, now a bit more demanding.
"Not tonight honey. I'm not feeling that great. I think I got some bad food at the restaurant," she answered.
"Sarah, strip!" I commanded.
She looked at me with an odd expression and slowly a sense of knowing yet bewilderment swept through her. After a few moments, she tried to break the tension by simply walking away.
"You can either strip or I'll tear them off you," I said as she turned her back to me.
"What is going on with you?" she said with her voice rising.
It was completely out of character for me to treat her this way but my anger and the alcohol had combined to make me belligerent and I wasn't going to back down.
"I want to see you standing in front of me naked, so get those clothes off," I said sternly.
"I'm leaving. You've gone crazy and I don't want to be here," she exclaimed and went to pick up her purse.
"Sarah, if you want to remain married you better take off those clothes," I said to her with an air of calm and confidence that surprised me.
She looked straight into my eyes as tears began welling in hers, and her lips started to noticeably quiver. There was a long period of silence as we maintained a stare, and racing through my mind in those seconds were all the times we shared together, dating back to childhood, that now might be ending right before me. It felt as if my heart was being shredded by some unseen beast and suddenly my stomach began to churn.
"I can't," she finally answered, and it looked like her wet eyes were begging for sympathy.
"Take them off," I replied offering no alternative.
"How do you know," she asked.
As she spoke, her hand reached for the button of her blouse but it was shaking so hard that it took several attempts to release it.
"Get them off," I demanded again, ignoring her question.
Despite her infidelity, Sarah's humiliation was painful wo watch, but my feelings of betrayal were even stronger. Slowly, piece by piece, she shed her clothes. First was her blouse followed by her skirt and then her bra and thong were removed until she was completely nude. By then, her tears had caused her mascara to run down her cheeks and her body was heaving as she sobbed. Of course, I knew what I was going to see and she knew that her body told the story of her adultery.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered.
I sat there without speaking, in some ways I wanted to continue to humiliate her and have her feel the pain I was feeling, but deep inside she was still my baby, the love of my life, and the sight of her in distress finally got to me.
"Sit down," I said and she immediately lowered herself onto the sofa while attempting to shield her signs of her sin from my view.
"Now tell me about it," I said.
It took her almost an hour as her confession was interrupted by several breakdowns, but eventually the entire story was revealed. To her credit, she was honest and inclusive of the details going back to college thru the encounter on the previous day. That is, except for the pregnancy.
"Are you going to leave me?" she asked when it looked like she had run out of tears.
"Are you in love with him?" I responded, sincerely wanting to know.
