Hindsight truly is 100 percent.
I suppose I should have been suspicious the first time my wife came home from her job in the art gallery bubbling over a new patron. But when you trust somebody completely, and she's never given you the slightest worry in the 17 years you've been together, your initial inclination is to give her a little slack.
My initial inclination was wrong - way wrong.
I'm Bobby Sprague; my wife is Traci. We met at a small Midwestern university 18 years ago, started dating 17 years ago, and got married 16 years ago. We added a daughter to the mix 14 years ago, and then had a son 12 years ago.
I work as a computer programmer for a government agency. I make good but not great money. I did well enough that Traci was able to be a stay-at-home mom while the kids were little. But two years ago, she decided that the kids were old enough for her to stretch her wings, and she got herself a 30-hour a week job at an upscale art gallery in town. She was an art major in college, so this was by no means a stretch for Traci intellectually. She could talk the talk and walk the walk.
The gallery primarily catered to clients doing a bit better financially than us. We live in a major Midwestern city, and there were plenty of people in that financial range for the gallery to be doing a nice business. And as a perk of her job, Traci got to hobnob with these people and step into their world for a little while before coming back home to her humdrum life. Occasionally, we both got to step into their world as sometimes Traci would work a big show at the gallery and I would get to tag along as her "plus-one." It was exciting, I have to admit, hanging out for a few hours with some movers and shakers. Computer geeks like me don't get to rub elbows with company executives, politicians, attorneys, and bank presidents very often.
So every now and then Traci would come home amped after meeting some celebrity or somebody powerful. The kids and I would marvel at how she just sort of floated along at home for a while, then we would get out of her way when reality set in as to where in life she fit into the picture. Darkness was not one of Traci's better qualities. The kids would usually scramble off to their rooms, very often leaving me to take the brunt of her snarky comments about our life for the rest of the evening.
Most of the time I just took it in stride. When it got to me, I tinkered on my car in the garage.
So for the last several weeks Traci had been babbling about some hotshot real estate whiz who had recently become a patron at the gallery. Jackson Aloysius Fairchild, a 28-year-old millionaire, had recently moved into expensive new digs and wanted artwork for his walls that reflected his station in life, Traci had said. She seemed impressed with him in general, although she expressed the thought that he also seemed to be somewhat taken with himself. She mentioned in various conversations that he was handsome and put together well, and often talked about doing a variety of physical activities like bicycling and rock climbing.
Traci gushing over a new patron wasn't out of line, so I didn't think much of it and let her ramble on for the next two weeks. Then this, too, died down, as I expected it would, and I didn't hear another word about Jackson Aloysius Fairchild until I was being introduced to him at the gallery's Christmas gala just a few weeks ahead of the holiday.
I have to admit, he was an impressive physical specimen, about 6-2, 190, and he looked to be rock solid in his expensive Armani suit. He was also blond-haired, blue-eyed, and extremely handsome, even from my jaded opinion. I wasn't quite expecting that.
I talked to him for about 30 seconds while Traci introduced us, and in just that little bit of time I caught him eyeing my wife from head to toe, like a tiger looking at its prey. Yes, she was gorgeous this night in a blue tailored skirt and jacket combination, with just a hint of cleavage showing from inside her white blouse, but his look was more leer than admiration. Traci seemed to be too busy with everything that was going on to take notice, but I did.
Traci went off to mingle, and I went off to the bar. I got a shot of Jack Daniels over ice, and found Kenny Taylor, the husband of one of my wife's co-workers, whom I had met before and gotten along with very well. We talked a lot about sports and cars.
I talked to Kenny for a while and then I did some mingling myself. About an hour later I spotted Traci talking in a small group of people, and Jackson Aloysius Fairchild was draped all over her. I went over to the bar and got her usual drink of choice, a Riesling, and walked up to the group. I introduced myself, then handed Traci her glass of wine. Then I quietly reached over to Traci's right hip and removed Jackson's hand, which was resting there from around her back. He didn't say a word, just smirked at me as he brought his hand back to his own body.
I talked with the group for a few minutes, then Traci went off to do some more mingling, and I went off in a different direction - after first making sure Jackson wasn't following her.
I expected to see Traci doing her thing while I moved about mingling with some of her co-workers, but after about an hour I hadn't seen my wife anywhere. After taking a quick look around a second time, I also didn't see Jackson. My spider senses were more than tingling, so I made a concerted effort to find Traci. I didn't find her in the gallery, so I headed out the front door and started making a loop around the gallery. There were small groups of people talking in the parking lot with their coats on, looking like they were getting ready to leave, but still no Traci. And then I spotted what appeared to be a couple sitting rather cozy in a black Jaguar XJ. The car was running, the couple was sitting together tightly in the back seat. I didn't bother to see if it was Traci and Jackson ... I assumed so, walked up to the car, and opened the door next to the woman. The occupants jumped back at that, so all I could ascertain was that if they weren't kissing, they were getting close to it.
"Time to go dear. Now, " I said in my best polite but firm tone.
"We ... we ... we were just," Traci stammered as Jackson smirked at me.
"I don't care. It's time to leave," I said in a voice just above a whisper.
"Really, Bobby, you have to come in and hear this sound system," Jackson said. "It's absolutely crystal."
The stereo was on, playing some sort of concert music, but I don't think either of them was listening to music.
"Another time, Jackson. We really must be going," I said in my most non-committal voice.
I escorted my wife from the car and we started walking to where my Ford F-150 was parked.
"Wait, I can't leave yet. The party's got another two hours. I'm expected to stick around for the whole thing and be one of the hostesses," Traci said with an urgency to her voice.
"If your boss has a problem with this, he can call me directly," I said. "Just what the hell do you think you were doing?"
"We were really listening to his car's sound system. It's amazing," she said with a note of awe in her voice.
"Uh-huh," I replied, no note of awe in my voice.
Traci continued to play innocent, but things were cool between us for the next couple of weeks. But I eventually lightened up and things got back to our usual existence, so I was completely taken by surprise a few months later when Traci told me she accepted an invitation to Jackson's lake cottage for the Fourth of July weekend. It was to be us, Traci's boss and his wife and two other married couples that were friends of Jackson's. We were heading up on Friday afternoon and would stay until midday Sunday, and Jackson was grilling for both days, with a full bar, swimming, boating and whatever else was available. I started to protest, but Traci just said we were doing it, turned around and walked away from me.
Actually, the weekend started out great. We spent several hours out on the lake in Jackson's rather large sailboat. All the women looked great in their bikinis, and the guys at least didn't look too bad in their baggy suits. Truthfully, Jackson probably had the best body among the five guys there, although thankfully it didn't look like he was hung any better than the rest of us, and Traci, despite being the second-oldest of the five women, was probably the best-built on the distaff side. Her black bikini showed off her 36C boobs and bubble ass without being leaving too much skin out there, I thought.
Jackson had one hell of grill set-up in the back yard at his cottage, and even had a completely stocked fridge with beer and wine and ice for mixed drinks. He brought out a mess of marinated steaks and started setting them on the grill, while everybody sat around in chairs just off the grill area with the drink of their choice. Jackson was being a gracious host, and was so far minding himself around Traci, who seemed to be staying just a bit further away from him than she had at Christmas.
The night went great and we all went to our respective bedrooms at about midnight, with Jackson as the lone single person going off by himself to the master bedroom.
Saturday started off with a visit to the little town connected to the lake. It was a little tourist trap with all sorts of cute little shops, and most of the women came home with several items. Then we ate a sumptuous lunch of hero sandwiches before a volleyball game broke out. The libations started after we finished with the activity, and the night's grilling was sausage and shredded pork. We enjoyed another great meal, and after sitting around shooting the breeze for a couple of hours, Traci's boss, Lou, suggested he and I take a walk around the lake. Considering everything that we were all eating and drinking, I thought that was a great idea to get ready for round two.
It took us about 30 minutes to get around the lake, and when we got back the group had shifted from the table to the chairs and lounges. I wasn't real happy when I saw Traci sitting in a lounge chair leaning back against Jackson, with his hands around her waist. As we came up, Traci smiled and got up off Jackson, but she didn't seem to be in too much of a rush, although she had to know I wouldn't be too pleased. She never really looked me in the face, but came over and sat in the chair next to me for much of the rest of the night. I caught her and Jackson exchanging glances a few times during the evening when they thought I wasn't looking.
Like the night before, the party started to break up about midnight, but while the other three couples started heading to their respective bedrooms, Traci quietly asked me to join her in the kitchen. When we got there, she looked me straight in the eye for the first time all evening, and announced, "Jackson has asked me to sleep in his bed tonight. I accepted his proposal."
I must have passed out or something and hit my head, because I thought Traci just told me she was going to sleep with Jackson in his bed. I looked at her like she had three eyes, and she realized that I wasn't exactly sure I heard her correctly.