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Arthur Leo Owens: "And I've tried to get over you darling, by falling in love with the wine. But how can I get you out of my heart, when I can't get you off of my mind?"
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Sometimes it's not the simplicity of a question, it's how out of character the question seems.
Doris, my wife of 23 years, just asked me "Are you going to the home office this month?"
Seems simple enough. A quick count says I've made that trip over a hundred months in a row. I'm the store manager at a large grocery store. My store is part of a national chain and is one of the most profitable in the region. I attend a monthly meeting on the second Thursday of each month. I catch the 7 am flight and return on the 10 pm flight. It's a long day but always full of meetings and presentations. We end the day with team building dinner. I get home by about 1 am and usually work a half day on that Friday.
In my job I employ more teenagers than adults. They are notorious for asking a question that has little to do with what they really want to ask. Something like 'Are we getting fresh produce in this Saturday?' is followed a few minutes later with 'Can I have Saturday off?'
Seems off subject but Doris hasn't asked about me going to that meeting in at least five years. She knows I'm going. There's no need to ask. Why is it then that this time she needed reassurance? In poker I think they call this a 'tell'. I made a mental note.
Later that evening I was paying the bills. Actually I handle just about all aspects of our financial life. In the latest credit card statement, for Doris's individual account, there are a pair of charges at the upscale boutique, Angie's Elegant Rags. Nothing odd except she has previously assailed them with how ridiculous their prices are.
Years ago I found that when Doris wanted to hide a birthday or Christmas present, she would bury them under the extra blankets in the hall linen closet. The following morning, when Doris was in the shower, I checked her hiding spot and found nothing. I guess you can't always get lucky, but that also told me it's not a purchase made with me in mind. I rummaged through her closet to no avail.
I had mostly forgotten about that purchase until Friday after work. One of my honey-do tasks was to inflate a tire on Doris's car. When I went looking for the air compressor in her trunk, I found two sacks from Angie's Elegant Rags. In one sack was a shoebox with blue high heels. In the other was a flimsy blue cocktail dress. The bottoms of the shoes were scuffed. They had seen action. It doesn't take too much imagination to think that if the shoes had been worn, the dress was no longer in mint condition.
Was there some kind of party I had forgotten? That didn't make sense. Why hide the dress? A surprise party? For what? Our forty sixth birthdays were a few months ago. Our wedding anniversary was a month before that. There would be no reason my job would be honoring me. I couldn't come up with a plausible reason to have hidden the dress and shoes. Maybe the dress and shoes weren't hidden at all. Leaving them in the trunk might have been a mistake. Overriding all of my speculation was the fact that the shoes had been used. I made another mental note.
On Saturday afternoon, having finished mowing the lawn, I bounded up the stairs, stripped, and turned on the shower. I had purchased shampoo earlier in the day. It was in a shopping bag sitting on the stairs. I had placed the shampoo on the first stair so I wouldn't forget it. That worked well. I wrapped a towel around me and headed back down the stairs. I heard Doris's cell phone ringing. Doris answered her cell phone so I kept quiet. I grabbed the sack containing the shampoo and started up the stairs.
"Hey sis, what's up?"
"Let's talk about that when Buck's not here. He's upstairs taking a shower."
"Will do. Love you too. Buh bye."
Doris's sister, Mindy, is two years younger than Doris and she and I tend to avoid each other. We used to get along but, since her divorce, she thinks all men are scum. I can't stand to spend time around her and Doris knows this. It's not that she snipes at me, it's just that she's so negative about men.
Mindy is a little quirky in that you never know what color her hair is going to be from visit to visit. I can't quite wrap my head around some of those brighter colors. Maybe you are walking around the mall and spot someone with a snow cone and decide 'I bet I'd look good like that!'
I pondered that conversation while taking my shower. I'd never thought about spying on Doris. With two recent strange events, and the tone of what I just heard, the scales tilted towards spying.
No time like the present to meet the challenge "I'm headed out to run some errands. Do you need anything?"
"Can't think of a thing."
My first stop was the library. I used their computers to search the internet for a voice activated recorder. I found one that looked acceptable then located a store that sold it. After that purchase, I stopped at my grocery store and picked up some fruit and snacks. I better come back with something if I'm running errands.
Doris spends a lot of time in the kitchen. Her computer workstation is in the corner, behind the kitchen table. She can twist her chair and watch the wall mounted television in the front room. I attached the recording device to the side of the room fan. The fan needed cleaning, so that became my cover.
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My name is Buck. Counting the time we spent dating, Doris and I have been together for twenty five years.
We both started as fitness enthusiasts but that died out a long time ago. I could stand to lose fifty pounds and Doris, although still shapely, could easily lose thirty pounds. I'm not a vain person so my extra weight doesn't bother me in the least. Doris whines about her extra weight and starts on a diet, but a few weeks later the diet is history.
I keep busy with the yardwork and my motorcycle. We spend lots of weekends with the neighbors. Doris reads books and watches a lot of reality shows. I've never been able to get into those made for television charades. Doris works as a receptionist at the hospital.
Our only child, Jason, married Kelly a year ago and we are proud grandparents of Jared, who is six weeks old. When Kelly returns to work, in a few weeks, Doris plans on babysitting to save them the cost of day care. Doris plans on cutting back her hours at the hospital. She keeps the money she earns for her slush fund.
When we were first married, Doris and I were your stereotype kids. We had sex in the morning or sex in the evening or both. That lasted for a few months, until Doris discovered she was pregnant. Probably typical I suspect, the sex declined until a few months after Jason was born. It never recovered. Sex for the next twenty years was a couple times a week. Over the last several years Doris has basically laid flat and encouraged me to hurry, and the frequency is maybe once a week.
I tried to broach the subject "Doris, do you think we should seek a marriage counselor, or someone similar, to see if they can help put some energy back into our love life?"
"I think you are over reacting. Aren't you still getting it at least once a week?"
"I am, but it seems like it's pretty mechanical at this point. I'm just trying to see if we can find a way to make it more romantic again."
"We don't need some shrink smirking at us. We're fine the way it is. I'm going shopping."
So that's where we stand. I can hands free masturbate into her pussy. It's been too long for me to even guess the last time I got a blow job. For that matter, I can't name the last time Doris spent more than ten seconds stroking my cock. It's hard to imagine this is what all married couples are going through.
We used to visit swap meets or take in the zoo but now she sits and watches her recorded television shows. I take motorcycle rides to fill the time. Doris used to ride along but again it's been a few years for that too. We live together, not much else. I thought when Jared came along things might change. I guess they have as Doris spends a lot of time over at Jason's place.
About a year ago, after at least a couple of years of simply existing together, I visited a divorce attorney. She laid out the facts. I'd be paying Doris a sizable amount of maintenance. Maintenance? Like you're keeping your car in working order? Although I had the attorney draw the papers up I finally decided that maybe I was overreacting. I really didn't want to hurt Doris. I just wanted my life back. A life with someone who enjoyed spending time with me.
I put the divorce papers in my desk at work. I haven't brought the subject up with Doris, but living with someone who acts like she wishes she was elsewhere is getting tough to stomach. I think it started when Jason left for college. She seemed lost with an empty house.
I don't think she's cheated on me, but then I trust her completely so I could easily be ignoring the red flags if they were waving. Obviously these recent developments have me questioning my unconditional trust.
What kept nagging at me is that I've had so many opportunities to cheat and have been completely faithful. There are hundreds of regulars at the store and many of them are lonely widows and divorcees. I've been flashed, groped, and propositioned but have risen above it all. I just assumed that Doris would see in me what I saw in her and never stray. Reality sucks.
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I found this great little utility to convert voice to text. I plug the memory card, from the recorder, into my notebook and run this utility. It downloads everything and creates a txt file. I can then quickly scan the results and see if there's anything to be concerned about. The only downside, to where I put the recorder, is that I can't reach it without a step stool. I have to wait until Doris goes to bed before reviewing the day's activities. There are plenty of words converted improperly but I am able to get the gist of the conversations.
My concerns increased when, on Tuesday, Doris had another conversation with Mindy.
"Hey sis, how's things?"
"Cool, no not yet, probably in the next half hour."
"No."
"Nuh uh."
"I think so. Things are so stale here. I'm just not excited by him anymore."
"Maybe next week. Buck has his monthly trip to the home office. He'll be gone Thursday evening."
"Yeah, I work with him. Kathy's been with him, says he's ok, you know, there."
"Yeah, wouldn't that be the shits, going through all that and then finding something the size of your thumb."
"Probably just one time. Just something to spice things up for me."
"Why do you care? You two don't even get along."
"He'll never know. He might even enjoy it if I learn a few tricks."
"You have your opinion, mine seems to differ. I hear the garage door, gotta go."
"Love you too sis. Buh bye."
My stomach was in knots. I knew nothing, but the insinuation was ripping me apart. I searched the internet for a private investigator. I downed about six ounces of scotch and slept on the couch.
+ + +
"Good morning honey. Why'd you sleep on the couch?"
"My stomach wasn't feeling too good. Shit, look at the time, I need to hurry. I've got an early meeting."
I had plenty of time, and no meeting to get to, but I couldn't even make eye contact.
