I came home early from a business trip and found a strange car in my driveway. Now, I've read enough of these stories to know what that means. It's a cliché for a reason. Rather than just barge through the front door with guns blazing, I figured I'd do a little detective work. I parked my car down the road and backtracked to the rear of our house. I crouched down low in the bushes and peeked through the window. It was fairly late at night, so I knew I wouldn't be seen.
Sure enough, there was my wife, Hester, standing in the kitchen with some strange man I'd never seen before. I fished my cellphone out of my pocket and snapped a few photos of the two of them just standing there smiling and laughing as if they were old friends. She approached him and wrapped her arms around him in a firm embrace. Then she broke their hug and briefly pressed her lips against his. I suddenly felt queasy. I had always known that someday she would cheat on me. I just had that sinking feeling that it wasn't a matter of "if", but "when." Now that I actually had proof, that vindication didn't feel as victorious as I'd imagined.
I nearly wretched into the bushes, but remembered to maintains my composure. In every one of my favorite online stories, the wronged husband always maintains his composure. Only a truly weak pussy would display even a hint of emotion after witnessing something so devastating. I thought of Clint Eastwood. You never see him display any real emotion in his movies. I tried my damndest to be like Clint.
She turned and walked out of the kitchen toward our stairway and her asshole loverboy followed closely behind like a dog in heat. God, I hated him so much. I felt like jumping through the window, glass shattering at my feet, filled with adrenaline, charging across the kitchen linoleum like a bull, tackling him to the ground, and beating him to a bloody pulp.
"No, stop!" Hester would scream. "Don't hurt him!"
"Fuck that!" I'd shout. "And fuck you, you cheating cunt!"
Oh, man. That would have been great. He would've had it coming, too. You don't mess with another man's woman. Unfortunately, I have bad knees and a bad back, and I've put on a few pounds, so my days of leaping through windows are over. Instead, I just stayed crouched in the bushes and watched as Hester flipped the light switch and disappeared up the stairs. I took a few steps back and looked up to see our bedroom light go on, and then off again a moment later.
Now, as I mentioned, I've been an avid reader of online stories for years. At that point, I knew I had a few choices to make. I could sneak through the door, creep up the stairs, and catch the two of them in the act. Usually, the husband character just stands there and watches for a while for some reason, but I'm no chuckold fag. I couldn't stand there and watch that. No, I'd have to take action.
Now, in the stories, the husband character is always bigger than the lover, and always a better fighter. I'm ashamed to admit, though, that I had let myself go a bit in the physical health category. Just walking from my car to the house left me winded. Whoever that guy was in the kitchen looked like he was in pretty good shape. It was humiliating enough that this guy was fucking my wife. Imagine being doubly-humiliated by getting my ass kicked by her loverboy?
No, I wouldn't be that type of hero. Instead, I'd be the other type of hero I've read about, where the sainted husband plots and schemes to find a way to get his revenge in a more clever way. In the end, I'd make sure that she would be humiliated, her loverboy would end up in the hospital, and I would walk away with clean hands and a full bank account. Yes, sir. That would be my happy ending.
I needed some time to think, so I booked a hotel room for the night. As I lay there staring at the ceiling that night, my thoughts turned to our daughter, Pearl. She had just begun her freshman year in college. Although she was a dead-ringer for her mother, Pearl had always been Daddy's little girl. Surely, she would take my side in the impending divorce. I thought that maybe I should recruit her in my revenge plot. I'd read many stories where the daughter and father form an alliance against the cheating mother. I put that idea on the back burner.
The following day I went to work on my revenge plot. I contacted a lawyer and set up an appointment. I opened a new savings account and began transferring money from our joint account to the new one. I Googled "divorce revenge plot" to get some ideas. Since most of the revenge stories I read involved some type of high-tech spying equipment, I visited my local Radio Shack and asked the guy behind the counter about what they had to offer. You wouldn't believe how much those gadgets cost! I decided to skip that part of the revenge plot and focus on more low-tech solutions. With the cost of the impending divorce, I would need to save every penny for the lawyers.
I returned home that afternoon, as originally scheduled, and pretended that nothing had happened. For her part, Hester pretended as if she weren't a cheating whore. It almost made me gag to kiss her hello. I nearly vomited later that night when we made love. I couldn't help but wonder whose dick had just been in that pussy and what nasty diseases he had left for me. Everyone knows that STD's are passed through non-monogamous sex. The chance that I had been infected was pretty much one hundred percent. I made a mental note to make a doctor's appointment. Hopefully, whatever she gave me wasn't life-threatening.
I met with my lawyer later that week and explained everything that had happened. Although he was happy to take my money, he seemed a little less supportive than I imagined he would be.
"Are you sure your wife cheated on you, Mr. Prynne?" he asked.
"I'm almost positive, yes," I explained. "There was a strange car in the driveway. You know what that means."
"Have you spoken to her about this?" he asked.
"Of course not!" I said. "It isn't time for the big confrontation yet. I'm still gathering evidence and plotting my revenge."
"I'm sorry...the big confrontation?"
"Yes, you know. I sit her down and lecture her like she's a little girl. I explain in a very calm manner everything that I've discovered. She cries and throws herself at my feet, begging for forgiveness. I refuse to listen to her. I then leave her a sobbing mess on the floor as I storm off triumphantly. The big confrontation."
That jackass just shook his head and stared at me like I had three heads. By the time I left his office, I was beginning to doubt myself. Maybe I didn't have the evidence I would need to exact my revenge. I had taken the day off of work, so I figured I'd swing by the house to see if I could catch her in the act again. Sure enough, when I rolled up in front of the house, there was yet another strange car in the driveway! This one wasn't even the same one I had seen before. How many guys was she fucking behind my back?
Once again, I parked down the road and crept back to the house, Ninja-style. I found the garage door unlocked and quietly entered. I then tip-toed up the stairs and cracked open the cellar door. I peeked my head around the corner and spotted them in the living room. Some young guy was seated on our loveseat facing me. My wife was kneeling in front of him. Her blonde hair was bobbing up and down in his lap while he closed his eyes and wore a big shit-eating smile from ear to ear. God, I hated him.
I quickly whipped out my cellphone, switched over to video mode, and captured several minutes of footage. The asshole suddenly opened his eyes. I thought he looked straight at me, and I panicked and quickly scampered back down the stairs and out of the garage. I made it back to my car and watched the house as I waited for loverboy to leave. The asshole took his sweet time finishing his business. I must have watched the video a dozen times before he finally emerged.
I followed his car straight to the parking lot of the building where Hester worked. The cunt was fucking a co-worker! I was so enraged, I couldn't wait any longer to formulate the next step of my revenge plot. The time had come to ruin some lives and get some payback. With damning evidence in hand, I marched straight into the office to the front desk and demanded to speak to Hester's manager.
"How can I help you?" he asked after greeting me in the lobby. I asked to speak to him privately, and he led me into a small conference room.
"I have some evidence of employee misconduct," I said, gravely. He simply stared at me blankly, so I produced my cellphone and played the video for him. I grinned with great satisfaction as I watched his eyes widen and his jaw drop.
When the video ended, he asked, "Why are you showing me this?"
"Do you recognize the man in that video?" I asked.
"Of course, that's Charlie."
"And the woman is my wife, Hester Prynne. I want them both fired immediately."
"Fired?" he said. "On what grounds?"
I sat back for a moment, stunned. "What do you mean on what grounds? Your two employees are committing adultery! Isn't that a violation of company policy? Don't you have rules regarding employee conduct?"
"Of course," he said, "but I don't see how this is any of our business. What an employee does on his or her own time is not our concern. Our code of conduct pertains to public behavior and statements that negatively impact our company's image. These two people were in the privacy of their own home."
