Couples Date Night 2

As always, my team has been awesome. My editing team is Girlinthemoon, Hal, Pixel the Cat, GeorgeAnderson and Norafares. I love you all. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives +ve critical review. SBrooks103x also gives me a prepost read.

There is no graphic sex described in this story. If you want that, you'll have to wait for my next story. This story is about the consequences of cheating. If you want to make the world safe for cheaters, you should read something else. Okay, let's try the "burning the bastard" variant of "BTB." If that sounds like something you'd enjoy, here it is If not, best stop now. If you continue, I warned you.

*****

Being married isn't easy. I've always known that. I know it's not easy being married to me. I'm picky. I like things the way I like them. I spend way too much time doing things I want to do and way too little time doing things my husband wants to do. I fall into a book and read for three hours straight, leaving Brandon to do what he does. I spend too much time on the computer. I have people I write to, sites I like to browse and I write. I write novels, short stories, and essays, all for my own amusement. I also sell them, and I've been doing well. I spend a lot of time working out at the gym by myself, just me and my music. Brandon is more of an outdoor exercise kind of guy. I'm as stubborn as a mule if I think I'm right and I fight dirty in an argument. I don't admire any of those things in myself, but I don't put any more effort into changing them than Brandon does the things about him that irritate me.

He has a roving eye. There's not a decent looking woman that passes him without being ogled. That pisses me off incredibly. I just learned to put up with it. The thing that really irritates me is very few of them are better looking than I am. Other men stare at me; Brandon stares at other women. I'm five ten and weigh 130 pounds. I have small C-cup breasts and they aren't saggy, either. My butt is the same size and shape it was when I was a freshman in college. I have long blue-black hair that hangs down to the middle of my butt. My skin is pale and creamy and I like my face. I have blue eyes and, as I said, I get a lot of attention from other men. They hit on me all the time. Brandon looks at other women.

He drinks too much, goes to too many parties, flirts with any woman who will let him and spends money like water. We'd learned what to expect from each other. I thought we were happy together. We'd been married for five years, and had a three year old daughter. She was amazing, and I was under the impression that we both loved her dearly. We made love from two to seven or eight times a week. We were both in good shape, exercised a lot and kept ourselves attractive. It seems like it should be easy. You just love each other and that's it, but we did things that get on each other's nerves. Brandon did those things that irritate me, and I'm sure I irritated him. We didn't mean to, it just happens. It seemed like we'd been irritating each other a lot, recently. That's just how it is. Living with someone, all the things that irritate you are magnified. Our lives hadn't been bad lately, but they hadn't been good, either.

Brandon came into my office the morning it all fell apart and brought me a second cup of coffee. He sat down in the leather chair beside my desk. "Smith, I want to talk to you," he said. That's my name, Smith Givens. Yes, I'd heard all the jokes about having two last names. My parents were weird like that. My maiden name was Johnson. I was used to it, and I liked my name.

"Hmm?" I murmured, sort of half paying attention.

"Stop typing and look at me," he said.

I grudgingly swiveled my chair around. I hated it when he did that. See, one of those irritating things.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't get an attitude," he said. Of course, I immediately got an attitude. If you don't want someone to get an attitude, don't tell them not to get an attitude. "I want to talk to you about us."

Now, I really got an attitude. "What about us?" I said, defensively.

"Are you happy with the way things have been going with us?" he asked.

"Generally, yes," I said. "I wish you didn't try to piss me off all the time, but yeah, I'm happy."

"I'm not," he said. "I don't try to piss you off. You're pissed off all the time without me helping. I think we need to do something."

"Okay, what do you suggest?" I asked. "Do we need a vacation, a date night, counseling? What do you want to do? I'm willing to try stuff. I know I've been kind of short tempered. Some of this is on you, though."

"Okay, I'm willing to take some of the blame," he said. "I don't think any of that stuff with work for us, though. I think we need to rev up our marriage."

"What the hell does that even mean?" I asked. "You want to dress up like Bozo the clown and tie me up or something?"

He laughed. "Or something," he said. "I've been talking to Dianne. Her and Bill went through something like this."

Now I was pissed off. Bill and Dianne were friends of ours, but what the hell was Brandon doing discussing our marriage with Dianne? "Jesus, Christ, Brandon, what in the hell makes you think it would be okay for you to talk to her about things that are between you and me? Did I mention that that would be okay?"

"I don't have to ask you about everything," he said.

"Well, you sure as hell have to ask me about stuff like that," I fumed. "I wouldn't talk to anyone about our marriage. It's no one else's business. If we were going to a counselor or something, it would be something we decided together. Dianne sure as hell isn't a counselor."

"No, but they had the same problems we have," he said. "I thought she might have some insight."

"Just how, exactly, do you know they had these 'problems'?" I asked.

"Well, she just mentioned that she wondered if we were having problems," he explained.

"And, of course you just said yes? What's wrong with you, Brandon? What do you imagine made it okay for you to do that?"

"This isn't what I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "Bill and Dianne are coming over in a few minutes to talk to us. They found solutions to their problems and we're going to talk about if they would work for us."

I was stunned! He'd invited them over? This was some kind of ambush shit and I wasn't having any of it. I decided I'd see what the lay of the land was. We were going to see some heavy hitting after I got a clue about what was going on. "Okay, Brandon, you let me know when they get here," I turned back to the computer. My brain was spinning a million miles an hour. In the ten minutes before they got there, I thought of a million things and I was fuming. When I heard the doorbell, I waited for Brandon to come and get me.

Dianne and Bill were sitting on the sofa and drinking coffee when I walked in. She got up and kissed my cheek before going back to sit down. I sat in my club chair and said nothing. This was their show; let them sweat. They made small talk, but I didn't say a word. They were becoming more and more uncomfortable and you could have cut the tension in the air with a knife. Finally, Brandon worked up his nerve.

"Smith," he said, "Dianne and Bill have been our friends for a long time. They're here to talk to us about how they worked together to resolve some problems they were having in their marriage. Will you listen to what they have to say?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't give a damn about their marriage or how they solved their 'problems'." I said. "As far as I'm concerned, you two are on really thin ice. You're meddling in things that aren't any of your business and Brandon is in a lot of hot water over this whole scenario."

"Honey, we love you two and we just want to help." Dianne smiled at me in what I'm sure was supposed to be a reassuring manner. It failed in its object.

"Okay, do your thing," I said.

I guess Dianne was the designated speaker. "Smith, about five years ago we started having some problems," she began. She reached over and took Bill's hand and they smiled a fake, "loving smile" at each other. "We were fighting a lot and it just seemed like the spark had gone out of our marriage. We talked about it and discussed it with some friends of ours. What we discovered has made our marriage so much stronger and so much better that we thought it would help you and Brandon. Can we tell you about it?"

This should be rich. "Sure, knock yourself out," I said.

She seemed to be thrown a little off stride by my answer, but she quickly recovered. "Well, we decided that if we were going to bring back the spark in our marriage, we were going to have to be open to new ideas," she said. "Our friends introduced us to couple's date nights."

"So you and Bill go out on dates?" I asked.

She swallowed nervously. "Not exactly," she said. "I mean we go out, but not with each other, like you meant."

"You go out, but not with your husband?" I asked. "With whom do you go?"

"Other couples in the group," she said. "We switch and go out with the other couple's partners. We're all into the lifestyle and it's been so good for us. Bill and I hardly ever have the fights like we did before, and our love life is just explosive."

I was beginning to get the picture. "So by the 'lifestyle' you mean you fuck people besides each other," I said.

Now she was really nervous. "Well, we explore other partners," she said. "We've become so open minded and it's been such a liberating experience for us. We think it would do the same thing for your marriage it's done for ours."

"So, by 'liberating' and 'open minded' you mean you fuck other people's husbands?" I asked. "Bill fucks other people's wives?"

"Why do you have to say it like that, Smith?" Brandon asked. "You make it sound so cheap and vulgar."

"It is cheap and vulgar," I said. "It doesn't need me to make it sound that way. Brandon, did you know this? Is that why you set up this 'meeting'? Do you have the hots for Dianne? What do you get out of this, Bill?"

"It's not like that at all," Brandon protested. "Jesus, Smith, why do you always have to paint everything so black and white?"

"So, it's interracial cheating?" I asked.

Brandon knew I was being facetious, but Bill and Dianne hastened to assure me that I had the wrong idea. "There is only one black couple in our group," Bill said. "I think you know the Blairs?"

"It's not cheating, either," Brandon said. "Everyone knows all about it."

"Okay," I wanted to be clear so I asked. "So you and Dianne go out on a 'date' and fuck. What happens to Bill and me?"

"Well, you two go out on a date, too," Dianne explained.

"What if I don't want to go out on a date with Bill?" I asked.

That stumped them. They floundered around for a minute. "Bill is very considerate, and a very good lover," Dianne explained. "I'm sure you'd enjoy your date."

"Well, I'm not," I said. "No offence, Bill, but how good can he be if you're prowling around looking for strange dick, Dianne? No, if I'm going to go out on dates, I prefer to pick my own. Sorry, Bill, not in this lifetime. Wait, I'm not sorry at all. Now, I'd like for the two of you to leave. I don't want you ever to come back here again. I don't want you ever to speak to me again. If you ever see me on the street, just keep walking. If you attempt to speak to me, you won't like what happens."

"What the hell is wrong with you, Smith?" Brandon exploded. "Our friends come over, out of the goodness of their hearts, to talk to us and try to help us and you act like this! I thought you were a bigger person than this."

"Well, you're doomed to disappointment then," I said. "I thought you were a bigger person, too. I had no idea how small you really were. One of us is moving out of this house. Maybe you'd be happier with one of your date night buddies. I have an idea. Maybe you can move in with Bill and Dianne and have a little three-way thing. I'm not sure I want Tessa around a person like you. Now if we're through here, I think you should leave."

"I invited them and they can stay as long as I want them to," Brandon said defiantly.

"Okay, well you all have fun." I went upstairs, packed up Tessa's bag, took it into my bedroom and packed my own bag. When I came through the living room, they were still there. "She'll come around," I heard Brandon say. "She always gets in a snit about things at first." They quit talking when I walked through with the bags.

"What are you doing?" Brandon asked.

"I'm going to Mom and Dad's," I told him. "Good luck with your date nights."

"Wait, Smith," he jumped up. "Can't we talk about this like adults?"

"I'm the only adult here," I said. "There are two frat boys and a slut, then, there's me. I don't think I'm interested in anything any of you have to say."

I went and got in my car. As I backed out of the garage, they came running out. Bill stood behind me so I couldn't back out and Brandon and Dianne came to my window.

"Smith, I realize this was the wrong way to talk to you about this," Brandon said. "I'm sorry. Will you take Dianne with you somewhere and just talk to her? Please, I'm begging you."

"Don't beg," I said. "It's demeaning to both of us. Okay, sure, jump in, Dianne."

She looked a little dubious but she came around and got in. I leaned out and glared at Bill. "If you ever try to keep me anywhere against my will again I'll run you over," I told him. I think he could tell I meant it. He hastily moved to the side and I backed out.

I had just bought a new Jeep Grand Cherokee SRT8 with the 6.4-liter hemi in it. I backed out into the street and stopped. "Better buckle up," I told her, "It's the law." She buckled her seatbelt and I lowered the hammer. All four tires were smoking and she was a white as a ghost. One hand was on the dash and the other was flailing around, looking for something to hold onto.

"What are you doing?" she screeched. "Slow down, Smith, you're going to kill us!"

"Nah, just you," I said. "I turned your airbag off." I hadn't, but this was fun. The hemi will take you from zero to sixty in less than five seconds. I gave it everything it had for six.

"Please, Smith, please slow down!" she begged. "Don't hurt me."

I dialed it back to the legal limit. "You ever see those cool turns that the stunt drivers do?" I asked her. "You know, where they back up really fast, swing the front end around, change gears and they're going the other way? I've always wanted to try that. They say it will roll a Jeep over, but I think I could pull it off."

She was crying now. "No, please, Smith! Don't do that! God, I'm sorry. Please, just let me out. I won't ever bother you again!"

"Hey, I was just kidding," I told her. "Let's talk. This is how I get my adrenaline rush, Dianne. You get yours by fucking strange cocks; I get mine by going fast."

Silence filled the vehicle until we got to the little diner down the street. I parked, she composed herself and we got out and went inside. I ordered a piece of pie and coffee. Dianne just got coffee.

"So, have you fucked Brandon yet?" I asked her.

She looked everywhere but at me, her face flushed and I knew the answer.

"It isn't like that," she said. "Both partners have to be in for anything like that to happen."

It was easy to see she was lying. "So you're the recruiter or something?" I asked.

"Smith, whether you believe it or not, I really am your friend," she said. "I'm really trying to help you."

"Well, with friends like you..." I trailed off.

"How long have we been friends?" she asked.

"I have no idea," I said. "I don't think we ever were."

"How can you say that?" she gasped. "How many days and weeks have we spent together? We've known each other since high school. We go shopping all the time. We do everything together."

"Yeah, well, not anymore," I said. "That was before you fucked my husband and tried to pimp me out to your fuck buddies. I can't imagine what I've ever said or done that would make you think I would go along with this."

"You're a brilliant woman, Smith," she said. "I think you'll come around and see the sense in this. So Bill and I sleep with other people. We love each other and our relationship is better than it's ever been."

"I think you're a liar, Dianne," I told her. "I don't believe that for a minute. I'll bet you 10,000 dollars that you're divorced within the year. You're just a miserable bitch who wants everyone else to be as miserable as you are. Congratulations, you just made a little three-year-old girl very miserable. I'm going to be okay, but she's going to suffer. You're a real piece of work."

"Why are you being such a hard-ass, Smith?" she asked. "I'm telling you this works for Bill and me. It can work for you and Brandon, too."

"I guess if I were you, it might work," I said. "The problem is, I'm not you. I've never been like you, Dianne. You know that. Remember when we were in college? You spent four years flat on your back. Do you remember what I did? I got an education. I had two boyfriends. I only slept with one of them. You asked me why I didn't fuck every man that came around like you did a million times. I always told you, I have to be in love with someone even to think about fucking them. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, but I thought you would have a more mature outlook on life now," she said.

"I do," I answered. "I realize that I was right all along. Look at you and Bill, Dianne. You're still chasing your adolescent fantasies. Someday I'm going to be at the store buying fuel for my car. You and Bill are going to have been long since divorced, probably multiple times because you're cheaters. I'm going to look up and you'll come out. We'll be about 49 or so. You'll have on something as slutty as your saggy body can get away with. You'll be laughing and talking too loudly and you'll have some sleazy 39-year-old man squiring you around. He'll be divorced about three times, too. He won't ask you to marry him; he'll just fuck you and dump you in a couple of months when some other younger slut comes along that will spread her legs for him."

She looked at me and her mouth opened and closed a few times. "I didn't know you hated me that much," she said.

"I don't hate you, Dianne, I feel sorry for you," I said. "I feel sorry for that woman. What's she going to be like at 69? She'll be old and alone and used up. I wonder if she'll look back and say, 'Wow, it was sure worth it to fuck a loser like Brandon.' Because, do you know what, Dianne? He'll be in the same boat right along with you. His daughter will refuse to speak to him, everyone he thinks is so cool, like you and Bill, are going to be as lonely and miserable as he is. Everyone that knows him will know he's a jackass. Do you know why? It's because you never grew up. You talk about being 'mature,' 'liberated' and 'open minded'. What you really mean is that you have no soul. You sold it for a hard dick."

"What makes you think that you're immune?" she challenged me. "It looks like you're in the same boat right along with us. If you keep this unreasonable attitude up, you're going to be divorced, too."

"Yeah, but I'm not a slut," I said. She flinched as if I'd slapped her. "I made a mistake when I married Brandon. The difference between you and me is that I can learn from my mistakes. I won't repeat that mistake. I'll find a man who loves me, puts up with all my flaws and loves my daughter, too. Or, I'll be by myself and I'll be very happy. I'm young and hot. I could take Bill away from you if he was worth it. You know that, don't you, Dianne? That's why you wanted Brandon. He'll be back in a few days, begging me to come home. I won't even blink, Dianne. You can have him. He isn't worth me spending one iota of energy. I have to thank you for showing me that. He had me fooled. Thank God I didn't waste any more time on him."