This story has been rattling around in my head for a while and Peter seemed to want me to write it. As a "yank" I am poor at recreating British English. Anyone who has constructive suggestions on the subject would be welcomed to share them.
The story, characters, and situation are totally fictional. Any relationship between this and anyone is purely coincidental. I wrote it with a wink and a nod to one of my favorites on Literotica--GaryAPB. In no way is this trying to suggest that I am any replacement for the master! Just a poor disciple offering his first full-length story. As one who hates waiting for the nexxt installment, I offer all three parts at once so you don't have to wait. Enjoy!
- The Cobbler
*****
"Hey Peter, got a moment," Todd said, sticking his head into my office. Until Todd Brooks dropped by my office, my week had been nearly perfect.
"I've got to run down to the Quillum Building to meet with the folks at Wagner and McGee," he began. "Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Look this over." He waved a thin manila folder. "It's something that I need to talk to you about."
"No problem. When do you want to go over it?"
"Meet me at Doyle's Irish Pub across the corner from the Quillum at 5:00. I'm buying. Everything in the folder should be should be self-explanatory." He handed me the file and rushed from the office.
And with that, my streak of good luck ended.
Until that moment, this had been the best week I'd had at work in months. My long project was coming to a very successful end. Better yet, it didn't look like I would have to make that extra trip to London as I had been warning my wife Sara. All the dots could be checked and every "T" crossed without needing to cross the pond. I knew that Sara, my sweet wife of 7 years, would be thrilled by that news.
My recent string of overseas trips came at bad times. The last one had resulted in an argument. Sara was badly hurt that I would miss a gallery opening I had promised to attend. Since Sara is the person responsible for arranging major events for the Museum of Art, these gala events were a big deal for her. I managed to convince her that I had not planned the trip for the sole purpose of avoiding the task of escorting her to the event.
* * *
I didn't give Todd's folder much thought, setting it aside to be read when all else was finished. With my project coming to an end I would I had begun making arrangements to take a few days off. Perhaps Sara and I could spend a long weekend at that little Bed and Breakfast up by the lake.
At four o'clock, I was totally caught up. My desk was clear and I decided to leave for the day. I grabbed a legal pad and Todd's folder and headed off to Doyle's to meet Todd. I figured I could read the information over and jot down some comments while I waited.
Since I was at Doyle's, it seemed appropriate to order Guinness. After taking a long sip of the tangy stout, I opened the file for the first time. What I found was a thin dog-eared sheaf of papers with a note from Todd paper clipped to the top.
Peter,
I found this floating around my department. You need to take a close look. After you read it, you may want to skip our meeting. Don't!!! Meet me at Doyle's at 5:00 so we can talk. I'll try to get there early.
Todd
That, of course, only served to build my curiosity to a peak. In hindsight, I wished that I had tossed the whole folder in the trash. I might have been better off. My life would have turned out differently and I could have avoided a great deal of pain.
What Todd had asked me to read was a story--a romance tale with explicit sexual content. There was nothing extraordinary about my first glance. It was entitled, "My Romance" by SAM33. So what was the deal here? Why was Todd anxious to read his favorite erotic find?
I'm not a prude, mind you, but I've never made it a habit of reading things like that. My sex life with Sara was exciting enough without fantasizing about someone else! I couldn't imagine why Todd thought it important that I read this one.
It didn't take me long to see why. Right there on the first page were all the clues I needed: the names Todd and Sara, and reference to a museum gala. Clearly, SAM33 was my sweet 33-year-old wife, Sara Ann Miller. Now that was a surprise! Never in my wildest dreams did I think Sara would be into writing--much less reading--erotic literature. This story was one I was anxious to read. Perhaps Sara and I could talk about it, or relive her fantasy later.
I didn't have to read far before I began to have concerns about this story. My name never appeared in the document, but since it was written in the first person, I heard myself discussed when the narrator--my wife--referred to "my husband", or talked about having sex "in my every day life at home".
The gist of the story was of an affair between Sara and a mysterious man only referred to as "my lover". The setting of the story was clearly at the most recent museum gala--the one that I had abruptly missed. What surprised me was that the rendezvous had been long planned. There was no doubt as to the author of the story--or its authenticity. A perfect description of the medium blue dress Sara had worn that night, together with events that took place in our living room when only she and I were present. I read the story over quickly, skipping most of the scene after the gala when her paramour took her to his hotel room and fucked her all night. I had no interest in knowing the details; the thought alone made me nauseous.
T.S. Eliot wrote "April is the cruelest month". For me, March definitely looked to be the demonic one. At least it started out that way. Sara--my Sara--had cheated on me! She was the absolute last woman I would ever have expected to have been unfaithful! Sara was so reserved, betraying a very conservative set of values. The reality of what I read hurt worse than any pain I had ever felt.
* * *
I had developed a crush on Sara in the third grade. I often caught her glancing in my direction, too. She was my version of Charlie Brown's "little red-haired girl." In Sara's case, it would have been Peter Miller's "little sandy-haired girl." Neither of us ever approached the other about personal feelings because we were both painfully shy in matters of the heart.
It wasn't until the homecoming game our freshman year of high school that I worked up the nerve to approach her. I took her to the game and the dance that followed our victory. I felt so awkward that I was certain that she would never--ever--want to go out with me again. I was shocked a few days later when she approached me in the lunch room and told me what a great time she had. By the smile on her face, I could tell she wasn't just being polite.
We dated through the rest of high school. I was sure we would break up when college came, but she insisted on choosing the same university I did. By our sophomore year, we were engaged. The wedding took place in the middle of the summer after graduation. Sara was lucky enough to get a job at the museum immediately while I worked on my MBA. I signed a contract with Parker Price International just before receiving my degree.
It's not that Sara and I didn't have any major disagreements. We had a couple very difficult years during the time she was working me through school. Aside from our early rough spots, everything else between us has been a dream. Oh, yes! We did have the occasional argument--like the one when I announced to her that I would not be able to attend the gala. But that kind of thing is normal in a marriage. There was no problem between us that we could not talk through openly and resolve promptly. So why would she cheat on me?
Sara and I have always been satisfied with our sex life--or at least, I thought we were. Before we were married, we played around a bit, but legally speaking, we were both virgins on our wedding night. It was beautiful--a memory I cherished--at least to this moment.
Our sex life wasn't wild, but what it lacked in fire it more than made up in intimacy. Sara was absolutely not interested in being creative; missionary position was good enough for her. Foreplay, however, could last forever. Since we made love with great regularity, it didn't matter to me how inventive we became.
Now here I sat with the very thinly veiled description of a raucous suck and fuck night in some hotel room while I was in London! I felt waves of nausea wash over me. Todd roused me from my morose musings.
"Sorry, buddy, but I knew you'd want to see that story."
"What a fucking mess!" I said, absently swirling the last of my first Guinness. "I'm working my ass off to finish things with Ewan MacAdams at ITI's Financial Services and she's back here playing the whore."
"I hated to be the one to break the news to you, but someone had to tell you, buddy. I found that copy being passed around my department. Most all the guys have read it and know who wrote it. One of them even asked me if I ever did the dirty with your wife."
I glared at Todd. That thought hadn't occurred to me.
"I wanted to bust him in the chops for making a crack like that!" Todd growled.
I pushed the document into the middle of the table and we both stared at it as though we expected it to attack us. "Todd, when you left our house that day, you were supposed to be taking a week off to visit your in-laws in Maryland. Was that true?"
"Yes, and I can prove it. Call Anne or her parents. They'll vouch for me." He waved down a waiter and ordered another Guinness for each of us.
I averted my eyes. "Sorry, Todd. It was a stupid question."
"Peter, I'd never do something that rotten to you. But, if I were in your shoes, I'd have asked the same question."
"What a fucking mess!" I took a deep breath, brushed the moisture from my eye, and swallowed the worst of my anger with the last drops of my first Guinness. "Sarah wants to go off the pill and start a family." I smirked at the irony. "Like that's going to happen now! But what do I do?"
"Good question," Todd retorted. "Do you think you can ever forgive her?"
I waited for our drinks to be delivered so I could have another sip before I answered. "You know, before this moment, I never had to face that question as a real possibility. It was something that happened to other guys. Sara and I were above that." I took another drink and looked into the murky depths of my glass. "I remember a few years ago, Sara's roommate divorced her husband after only three years of marriage. She discovered that he had cheated on her. Sara and I talked a lot about it and agreed that Beth was doing the right thing. Ted was an immature asshole who didn't realize what a good thing he had. Sara, herself, told Beth that any cheater should be kicked to the curb." I took another drink and swirled it around my mouth. "It was easy for us to dump on Ted. Only three years before he had agreed to be faithful 'as long as you both shall live'. Then he broke that vow with some bimbo from work. Beth found out and dumped him. It was all so simple and clear cut."
