Catching Nancy

On Thursday afternoon a transformer blew at work and shut the whole factory down. It was only about 2 in the afternoon, so when they sent us home I decided to drop in on my friend Rich. He worked the midnight-8am shift at the Toyota plant, so he slept until midafternoon most days. We would occasionally get together after work, and I'd have a beer or two while he ate some breakfast.

He lives in a third-floor apartment in a big eight-story building. When I got to his door I was about to knock, but there was a lot of noise coming from inside. I listened for a minute and realized it had to be a porn movie, with all those grunts and groans and cheesy music. Well, obviously I wasn't going to bother him now—he was either getting laid or getting himself off, and in either case he wouldn't want to be interrupted!

So I headed back to the parking lot. Just as I was about to get into my pickup, I noticed my wife's car about twenty feet away. I stopped dead in my tracks. She didn't know anyone who lived in the building, as far as I knew. That is, except for Rich. He and I had been friends for a long time, but Nancy didn't like him very much and didn't usually hang around the two of us when he was visiting. She said he was crude, and the way he looked at her made her uncomfortable.

It's not that Nancy is unfamiliar with male attention. She's got great boobs, and she likes wearing tight or lowcut tops, so men are frequently looking. But for some reason Rich's attention was too crude for her—or so she always said.

So what the hell was her car doing in his parking lot? I sure hoped that my suspicions were wrong, but I had to find out. I got a tire iron and went back into the building. When I got to Rich's door I gently tried the handle and, amazingly enough, it was unlocked. I went quietly inside and down the hall to his living room, where the loud porno movie was playing.

I peered carefully around the corner, and Son of a Bitch, it was my wife! Rich was sitting naked on the couch, with Nancy kneeling between his legs. She was naked too, except for a black lacy bra, and she was sliding her lips up and down on his cock while he watched the porno movie over her shoulder. Their clothes were strewn all over the room.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled, as I came into the room. Nancy pulled off his dick and started to look around; then she screamed when she saw me. Rich jumped to his feet. I noticed he still had black socks on, the asshole.

When he saw the tire iron he said, "wait, man—Artie, don't!" I swung hard and hit him right in the ribs. I heard a crack, and he yelled and fell to the floor. Nancy screamed again and ran out of the room.

"Some friend you are," I said, and kicked Rich in the ribs. "After all these years," and I kicked him again, as he lay there groaning.

"I guess we're done being friends," and I kicked him one more time, right in the nuts.

I looked around and Nancy was nowhere in sight. Just as well—I was angry enough to take a swing at her too. Just for the hell of it I grabbed her clothes off the floor, headed back down to my pickup and drove straight home. The whole way I kept seeing Nancy on her knees, slurping on his cock. I was lucky I didn't run a red light or drive right into a tree.

Our two kids, Ellen and Jack, were both at their soccer practices, so the house was empty. I got a big cardboard box up from the basement and put it on the bed in our bedroom. Then I opened the closet and the dresser drawers and started heaving all of Nancy's clothes into the box. Shoes, skirts, underwear, it all went in together. On top I tossed in the outfit she'd been wearing at Rich's apartment.

Then I got a plastic bag and dumped all her cosmetics into it. I carried the bag and the box of clothes downstairs and put them on the front step. Then I went back inside, locked the door, got myself a beer, and sat down in the living room to wait for her. The whole time I was barely thinking at all—my mind was just churning, full of rage. After 14 years! 14 years of me working my ass off to make a home and a life for her and our kids—14 years of me being faithful and loving, doing all I could to make Nancy happy!

It was more than an hour before Nancy's car pulled in. Maybe she'd called an ambulance for Rich first—I didn't really give a shit. I laughed to myself as I watched her come up the walk, wearing some old blue jeans and a sweatshirt that were way too big for her.

She saw the clothes and the bag of cosmetics, stopped, then tried the door. When she found it was locked she pulled out her key to open it, then stepped inside. By then I was standing in front of her, about six feet away, still holding the tire-iron.

She looked terrified. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red from crying and her makeup had smeared all over the place.

"Honey, I . . ."

I didn't let her get very far. "Your clothes and things are on the step. Get the fuck out of here."

"Baby, I'm so sorry I . . ."

I took a step towards her and she shrank back in alarm. "I said get the fuck out of here!"

"But Artie, we need to . . ."

"Right now WE don't need to do anything—YOU need to get the fuck away from this house!"

Being careful not to hurt her, I took her elbow firmly and walked her back out onto the front steps. Then without another word I took the key ring from her hand, removed the key to our house, handed her the rest of the keys, and stepped back inside, locking the door behind me.

Through the door I could hear her begin to cry. "Artie, don't make me leave! Where am I going to go?"

I didn't answer, but I thought to myself she'd probably go back to her parents' house. They only lived ten minutes away, and she was the apple of their eye. They'd believe any bullshit story she told them, and I would come out looking like the bad guy.

After a few minutes of calling to me and banging on the door, Nancy gave up. She put her things in her car and drove off.

I realized the phone would probably start ringing any minute, so I turned the answering machine to instant pick-up. There wasn't anybody I felt like talking to!

Still feeling numb, I realized I'd need to feed the kids. I went into the kitchen, rooted through the freezer, and found some hamburgers and hotdogs. By the time they'd come home after practice, cheerful and sweaty, I had the meat grilled and a salad sitting on the table. They were so hungry it took them ten minutes before Ellen said, "where's mom?"

I knew I'd have to explain, but I wasn't ready to do it yet. I just said, "oh, she's over at grandma and grampa's house."

As I cleaned up the kitchen, the kids went off to shower and start their homework. I waited until about 9pm, then sat them down with me in the living room.

"Ellen, Jack—you need to know that your mom and I are having some troubles. We both love you very much, but she's not going to be living here right now."

They both looked really surprised and started in with the questions. I quickly said, "the most important thing is that we both love you, and we will always both take care of you. The only other thing I can say is that what happened between her and me is not my fault. Beyond that, you'll have to get your mom to tell you the story."

It was quite a while before they calmed down—Ellen in particular got all teary-eyed—but finally they went off to bed. I looked in on each of them after a few minutes, and they were fast asleep.

Somehow I didn't think I'd be sleeping as well that night.

At 8am the next morning I got the kids off to their school bus, then called in sick to work. I didn't want to waste any time dealing with this mess, so I called Ed Emerick, my lawyer, and made an appointment to see him at 1pm.

At about 10am, while I was cleaning up the kitchen, thinking about everything and nothing, the doorbell rang. I looked out and saw it was Meaghan, our neighbor and friend from down the street.

Meaghan was a divorced single mother, with an eight year-old daughter Janey that Ellen sometimes babysat for. Meaghan was one of Nancy's best friends—they spent a lot of time together, shopping or just having lunch. I liked Meaghan too; she was kind and honest, and I liked her cheerfulness and sense of humor. She'd been married to an alcoholic, whom she'd eventually had to divorce, but she never seemed bitter or angry about her situation.

"Artie, is everything all right?" she said, as I opened the door to her. "Nancy left me this crazy phone message last night—she was crying so hard I couldn't understand what she was saying. Then this morning I saw your car in the driveway, so I thought I'd come over and see what's up."

I managed a faint smile and said, "come in, Meaghan. Can I get you a cup of coffee? C'mon into the kitchen and I'll explain what's going on."

I told her about what I'd seen the day before at Rich's apartment, and Meaghan just looked at me in shock.

"Anyway," I concluded, "I actually hoped that maybe you could tell me if you know anything about this. I know that Nancy has seen a lot of you lately—she's mentioned shopping with you several times in the last month."

Meaghan stared at me. "Artie, I've only seen her once in the past few weeks. We went to lunch a couple of Saturdays ago. I haven't been shopping with her."

We looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Finally I said, "sounds like Nancy has been using you to cover for her, and didn't bother to tell you about it."

Meaghan looked at me sympathetically, and reached across the table to put her hand on my arm.

"Artie—I need to tell you something. Nancy has been acting different for a couple of months now, I guess. We had some conversations where she talked about feeling restless, distracted. She didn't exactly know what it was—and she certainly didn't say anything about seeing anybody else! But when I urged her to talk to you about it, she got all vague, and I kind of got the feeling she wasn't going to tell you.

"And then I started seeing less of her, and I'm guessing it's because she was thinking about doing something like this and didn't want to tell me—because she knew I'd go ballistic and try to talk her out of it."

Meaghan looked right into my eyes. "Artie, I am SO sorry. You don't deserve this. I want to go kick Nancy's ass—and I guess you're pretty much feeling the same thing!"

I had to laugh. "Well, I did get Rich pretty good with the tire-iron, but I wasn't about to hit Nancy."

We sat a little longer, each of us thinking, and then I said, "Meaghan, I need to find out the whole story. How long this has been going on, and why on earth Nancy first started fucking my so-called friend.

"One thing I'm pretty sure of—yesterday wasn't the first time. There was a porno movie playing, they were both pretty much naked in mid-afternoon, and she was sucking his cock. That sounds to me like an affair that's been going on for a while, not a first meeting."

I got up and got us each some more coffee, and then I said, "would you be willing to help me figure this out?"

"Of course, Artie. What can I do?"

"Well, you've met Rich a couple of times, and he knows you're Nancy's good friend. What if I find out where he is—which I'm guessing is the hospital—and you go talk to him? You can say you came on Nancy's behalf, because he and she need to get their stories straight before she talks to me. You can pretend to work out something that Nancy can tell me.

"Then, I'm hoping you can get him to tell you what really went on—how it started and so on. That way, when Nancy tells me her version, I'll know whether it's the truth."

Meaghan nodded slowly, and I could see her thinking about it. "I guess I could do that, Artie." Then she said, "but are you sure you really want to know the whole story?"

"Yeah, I am. I've been thinking about it. If I'm wrong and this really was some kind of crazy one-time thing, then maybe I could get over it and Nancy and I could stay married. Maybe . . . . But if she won't tell me the truth—if she gives me a crock of shit and it's completely different from what you hear from Rich—then I'm throwing her ass out of here. I have no interest in being married to someone who lies to me and fucks around behind my back."

I made a couple of calls, and found that Rich was in Mercy Hospital. They wouldn't tell me his condition, but I wasn't too worried about it. Meaghan said she'd see him that afternoon, and then meet me back at the house around 4pm.

My meeting with Ed Emerick was brisk and depressing. He listened to the whole story and said he'd get started on the divorce paperwork. I told him I'd agree to "irreconcilable differences" if Nancy would agree to let me keep the house and joint custody of the kids—otherwise I'd charge her with adultery. That might cost her her job as a teacher's aide, so Ed was pretty confident she'd go along with what I wanted.

When Meaghan showed up at the house at 4pm, I could see she'd been crying. I let her in and she started in again. We sat on the couch and I put my arm around her shoulder, just waiting for her to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Artie!" she said finally. "You're the one who's supposed to be crying! It's just that . . ." She stopped, and I looked at her curiously.

She wiped her eyes, and then said slowly, "it's just that I really care for you. And I hate seeing you get treated like this; especially since you've always been such a great husband to Nancy."

"It's really bad, then?"

Meaghan nodded. "I had no trouble getting Rich to talk—he figured I was Nancy's friend, and he opened up and told me the whole story.

"They've been . . ." she grimaced, "doing it for about six weeks. Mostly at his place, but a couple of times here. Since her teacher's aide job ends at 2:30 and you're never home before 6:00, they have the whole afternoon whenever your kids are at soccer practice."

I just sat there for a minute. This made it simpler, I guess. No gray area, no "one-time mistake".

"Why don't you tell me the rest," I said.

"Well, I told you this morning that Nancy has been talking about feeling restless, but I didn't know why. It seems that Rich has had the hots for her for years, and he finally decided to do something about it. He's been dropping by the house for a few months now, using excuses like borrowing one of your tools or dropping off a catalogue for you. Nancy would give him coffee, and he'd flirt with her."

"But she always said she thought he was crude! She never wanted me to invite him over."

"I don't know about that," Meaghan said. But Rich told me he'd flatter her, tell her things like she had the best tits he'd ever seen, and she'd just giggle at him.

"Then one day, he said, she was pouring coffee and he came up behind her—just pressed up against her, put his hands over her boobs, and started kissing the back of her neck. He told her how hot she was, he had to have her, etc. He said she started to protest and wriggle out of his arms but he just held on. After a minute, she turned around and he stuck his tongue down her throat. They ended up fucking for the first time on the kitchen table."

I sat, staring straight ahead. I wished now I'd kicked him in the balls a few more times; though I might have killed him, and I didn't want to end up in jail.

"Since then, Rich said they've been going at it pretty hot and heavy, at least a couple of times a week. He said Nancy liked it crude—dirty words, having her ass slapped, porno movies, things like that. He told me she's got a whole collection of come-fuck-me underwear that's a total turn-on."

She paused, and in a different, softer voice said again, "I'm so sorry, Artie."

The woman Meaghan was describing sounded like a stranger to me, not like the Nancy I had happily loved for so many years. I'd been vaguely aware of her restlessness in recent months, and I'd even asked her about it. But she'd said it was nothing important, and maybe I was a fool not to have taken it any further. All water under the bridge now . . . .

I got up and started pacing around the room. "Meaghan, can I ask you a favor? I want to get this whole damn mess over with. I'm going to call Nancy and have it out with her here. If she can come over tonight, would you mind watching the kids at your place?"

"Of course, Artie! You know that Janey loves being with Ellen, and having Jack along will seem like a treat to her."

I went to the phone and dialled Nancy's parents. When her dad picked up I just asked to speak to Nancy. He started in on me angrily, "how dare you treat my daughter like this? what is the meaning of your behavior?"

I didn't even answer him, just held the phone away from my ear and let him ramble on. After a while he ran out of steam, and there was silence. Then I heard Nancy say, "hello?"

"Nancy, it's Artie. Why don't you come over after dinner tonight and we'll talk about this."

"Oh, baby, thank you! I've been going crazy, and . . . "

I cut her off. "Not over the phone. Tonight. Eight o'clock." I hung up without another word.

"Meaghan," I said, "it's all set up. Can I send the kids over around 7:30?"

"Sure Artie, that's fine." She had wet eyes again, and as I watched she stepped to me and gave me a big hug. "I'm so sorry for what you're going through," she whispered, holding me tight to her.

"Thanks, Meaghan—that means a lot."

When Nancy arrived she had brought her parents along, to my surprise. I resisted her attempts to hug me, and we all went into the living room. They sat on the couch, and I picked a chair on the other side of the room.

Her dad started right in again with the same bullshit as on the phone. I ignored him and said to Nancy, "you sure you want your parents here for this? They're not going to like what they hear."

Her dad wouldn't even let her answer. He said, "Artie, you've treated my daughter like dirt—worse than dirt! And I won't stand for it. I'm her father, and I demand to know the reason!"

I just looked over at Nancy and said, "last chance". When she didn't say anything I turned back to her dad. "Okay, Henry—you and Alice seem to want to hear this. I threw your daughter out because I went to visit my friend Rich and found her in his apartment naked, kneeling between his legs and sucking his cock."

Nancy's mom gasped and looked away, and her dad just stared at me. "That's ridiculous!" he said after a minute. "Our daughter would never behave like that!"

I shrugged. "Ask her," I said.

They both stared at Nancy, but she just curled up on the sofa, her hands over her eyes, and sobbed loudly.

"Now that you know the problem," I said, "why don't you both just go outside and leave me and Nancy to talk." Without a word, they got up and left the house.

I waited for Nancy to calm down. She just cried for a while, and then she sat up and looked at me and whispered, "baby, I'm so sorry."

I guess she expected a reaction out of me—but I just looked right back at her, not saying a word. She must have realized she needed to say some more.

"It was just the once," she said. "I don't know what came over me. He invited me over to pick up a couple of tools you had lent him, and, I don't know, something just happened. We had a beer, and then I . . . I started to feel kind of strange. The next thing I remember, he was kissing me and taking my clothes off. It's all kind of vague."

I just laughed at her. "Good story, babe. Total bullshit, but I like it."

She seemed shocked by my response. I walked across the room and stood in front of her, looking down at her wet face. I was through playing around!

"Listen to me, Nancy. You have one chance—ONE CHANCE!—to tell me the complete truth about you and that dipshit. You lie to me again, and your ass is on the street."

I sat down at the other end of the couch, still glaring at her. "Tell me the whole story—how it started and how long it's been going on. And why, for God's sake!"