Many thanks to Angel Love for editing this story and for the kind comments.
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My name is Sebastian Dahl; I'm a 40-year-old partner in an accounting business in my Scandinavian hometown. The events that created this story began on a sunny Spring morning when I and my family, consisting of my 38- year-old wife Helene, Jenny a fourteen-year-old daughter and Robin, my twelve-year-old son were sitting around the breakfast table. It was one of those usual mornings when everybody was in a hurry. Helene and I were going to our jobs and the children to their school.
Then Jenny tried to snap my newspaper and my spoon fell to the floor. I got under the table for taking it up and noted that Helene was wearing a pair of expensive socks with a small red spot on the right big toe. The spot was my fault and had caused me some problems after I had done it in a stupid painting accident. Helene did not listen to my attempts to joke about it saying that if somebody took off her shoes, it wasn't because he was interested in her socks.
About three Helene rang to my job and said they had some problem at her job and she had to work overtime for a couple of hours. She asked me to buy some take away food on my way home.
Half past seven I heard her car on our driveway, pretended to be a butler and met her at the door where I took her jacket.
She kicked off her shoes and I tried to give her a hug, but to my great surprise she pushed me away and said, "Not now," which took only a few seconds but I noted three strange things during that short time. First: A feared look in her face for a short moment. Second: During the short moment I've been close to her I had noted a strange scent of soap, just as she had taken a shower before she came home. Third: The sock with the small red spot was now on her left foot.
I calmed down enough to ask her, "Anything special that caused the overtime?"
"No, the old usual reason, last minute reports to the head office and problems with the computers."
"Even I have problems at the job. Have to go there and fix a thing I forgot to do before I went home tonight. It shouldn't take more than an hour."
I think Helene was glad that I was leaving her alone for a while. At the office I wrote a letter to her.
'Dear Mrs. Dahl,
I have to say that your cheating on your good husband is both very unpleasant and very unexpected news for me. I really hope that you will regret your shameless behavior and save me from the duty telling him the truth.
My condition for remaining silent is that you at your work tomorrow (Thursday) shall wear a black knee long skirt and a black top as a sign of your regrets. From Friday morning and until you are otherwise told you shall wear a thin silver bracelet (always visible) on your right ankle.'
Faithful as our mail system is, if mailed at the post office before seven o'clock in the morning will be delivered the same day.
I ran some errands before going home after work on Wednesday so Helene had time to read and hide the letter. She had obviously done that, because on Thursday morning she came to breakfast in requested black clothes. Now she had confessed her cheating and my next problem was to find out with whom she had done it.
I asked her, "Are you going to a funeral today? Who is dead?"
She replied, "Fashion."
"Is the damn 'fashion' dead? Why are you mourning?
We ought to save a lot of money." Our children began to laugh and Helene got angry and left the table.
At my job I wrote a new letter to her, which she got on Friday.
'Dear Mrs. Dahl, Your serious intentions to save your marriage are leading you against total forgiveness. Keep going on the right path.
Your faithful friend.'
On Friday morning she was wearing a silver chain around her left ankle and I asked: "What the hell is that? Isn't that a secret sign for swingers and cheaters? What in the hell have you got involved in?"
She got furious, blushed and shouted, "Are you totally mad? Several of the girls at the job are using those and I like to have one."
"Since when are you working at a whorehouse?"
Now even Jenny got angry and shouted, "What's the matter with you dad? Let her have it if she likes it."
I left for my job without further comments. I had so many things to do during the day. The most important thing was renting an apartment. I was lucky to have useful connections and the younger brother of one of my old classmates had three months left of his service in our Kfor battalion (international peace keeping forces) in Kosovo. The apartment was exactly what I needed, I paid my friend for a month, got the keys and promised to be out in good time before his brother came home.
On Friday evening we had our usual 'family fun' and I did my best to be a jolly fellow as usual. After the kids had gone to their rooms for sleep, Helene and I shared a bottle of wine and had our usual small talk. When we got to bed, she had obviously expected some sex and got in a bad mood when I told her that I was tired and wanted to sleep.
On Saturday evening we were invited to a birthday party at one of our neighbor's gardens and had a good time until late night. Back home she was angry because I had neglected her during the evening and spent too much time with the newly divorced Sarah. No attempts for sex from either of us, which was OK for me.
On Monday I wrote a new letter for her, which she picked up on Tuesday lunchtime. I knew that because I had observed her on Thursday when she did a quick stop at home. I wrote:
'Dear Mrs. Dahl.
I really appreciate your honest attempts to leave your sinful behaviors behind you. This condition can be one of the last or even the last one, which depends on how well it is done. You shall this very evening, a week after your shameless cheating, ring your lover six times, three times from your cell phone to his cell phone and three times from your home phone to his home phone. You shall only say "Can I speak to Bongo?" Your benefits of the calls will depend on how surprised or mad your lover will be.
Your faithful friend.'
I hadn't much hope of anything coming out of this, but all my other efforts during the week to find out who the damn lover was had not given me the slightest clue. But my letters had her obeying my conditions, which was her confession to be guilty to the cheating.
At home after work on Tuesday I told her that I had promised to jump into a bowling gang for replacing a sick guy but I would be back no later than nine. She had no objections and I think I could hear a sigh of relief, but wasn't sure about that. Back home I told her that I had to do some job before I could go to sleep, which I really had. While taking a cup of coffee in the kitchen I checked the caller Id on the phone, which was deleted.
Immediately after she said good night, I checked the hidden caller Id in my office and there were three outgoing calls to the same number this evening. A check on the web told me that the user had paid for having the number out of catalogs. I listened to the recorder and the man who replied to those three calls had replied with 'hello,' which was not common in this country. Almost all people reply to private calls with their name or at least pet name or phone number.
My guess now was that he had gotten information about the expected calls from her after lunch. However, I knew the number and began to think about ways to find out the owner. After some thinking I decided to check the member's list of the local golf club and the 1500 phone numbers to be compared. When I was ready to give up, I found it; Wall, Anne-Marie and on the line under hers Wall, Tommy.
I logged into my personal page at the telecom company we used and found a few calls to Wall's number in the last invoice. There was even a large number of unknown cell phone numbers in the list, but most of them were probably friends to our kids so I left them without further attention.
I knew that Tommy Wall was a fellow worker to Helene at the insurance company. He was some kind of semi boss there and I had met him a few times at some party and at the golf club. This Tommy was a very social and polite fellow in some people's opinion and an ass-kisser in many others. I had never heard him mentioned as a pussy hound and Helene had never talked about him at home.
Hadn't it been for that spot on her sock, she could have continued to fuck that asshole for ages. I got what I had been waiting for. My plans were already done and fitted in perfect for the present situation and tomorrow should be my turn to have some action day in this sad matter. I was in a jolly mood when I went to bed. Helene was still awake and obviously waiting to get some sex.
She got very confused when I refused her with a short and simple, "Not tonight."
"What's the matter with you? Are you still mad for my bracelet? Are you really so naive that you think it means something?"
"I don't care a shit about your terrible bracelet, but I'm tired and want to sleep, good night."
"Holy Lord, what have I done?"
Of course she knew what she had done. Was she really so stupid that she didn't understand that I suspected her of cheating or did she think that as I hadn't said anything, I didn't know anything.
The next morning our relation was so chilly that Jenny immediately noted that something was wrong between us and shouted, "What's the matter with you? For heaven's sake don't say that even you are going to divorce just as all other damn parents? Are you?"
I replied, "Ask your mom."
Helene replied her, "Of course not, we are only a bit tired of too much job to do, everything will be fine."
I left the table before I got any further questions and went for my new apartment. One hour later I was back at my house with cardboard boxes. At ten a car stopped at the street and the driver took me to a garage where a yellow van was waiting for us. I changed clothes to a mailman's uniform, put on a blonde wig, blonde moustache and put on glasses. Then we left in the yellow van.
At Helene's job the yellow van stopped near the main entrance, I went in and told the reception girl that I had a private mail to Tommy Wall and he had to sign the receipt. She told where I could find him and I found the door to his office. I opened the door and rushed the few steps to the desk where he was sitting. I took him by total surprise and hit him so hard on his nose that I heard how it crushed. Then I gave him several hard hits in his face so he fell to the floor where I gave his balls several hard kicks, which got him unconscious. I turned on the red "busy" sign outside his door and left his office.
