Flying Solo

[Here's another short story in homage to Harddaysknight--as before, I can't do it as well as he can, but neither can anyone else! Also as before, the real title is something other than what I've named it--a Beatles song, of course.]

*

I suppose there aren't that many ways to find out about a cheating wife. I was dancing with Marcie Blaine at the Harvest Moon Dance, at the club my wife and I belong to. It's the South Side Golf & Country Club, one of the fanciest clubs in Chicago. Fancy things like that make Lucinda happy, and I've got the money to keep her happy. At least I thought I was keeping her happy.

Anyway, Marcie is one of Lucinda's closest friends. She and her husband Charlie were sharing our table, and he wasn't much of a dancer so I was being a nice guy and giving Marcie a chance to get out on the dance floor.

We were gliding around the floor, both of us a little tipsy, just relaxed, and I said, "you and Lucinda are certainly spending a lot of time at the gym these days. Are you two training for the marathon, or just trying to get even better-looking than you already are?"

I was just chatting, just paying a compliment. Marcie and Lucinda are in fact both great-looking women: early 30s (compared to my mid-40s), with long legs and terrific figures.

But Marcie surprised me. She hadn't been paying attention, and without thinking she said, "God no, Dave--I haven't been to the gym in weeks! I don't know why you..."

Then, belatedly, she must have realized she'd put her foot in it. I imagine she and Lucinda had worked out a story and Marcie had simply forgotten about it. I saw her look up at me in horror, so I pretended not to be paying attention.

I said, "huh? Oh, sorry, Marcie, I thought I spotted Jack Yellenick across the room. I haven't seen him at one of these dances in years. You were saying?"

On purpose I gave Marcie that second chance and she took it, watching me carefully. "Oh, I just said that Lucinda is really working me hard--she's the one who's determined to stay young-looking forever. I'd rather relax in the steam room!"

She laughed, and I chuckled along with her. I could see that she was pretty sure she'd gotten away with it, which is just what I wanted her to think. Inside, of course, I had a predictably sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. If Lucinda wasn't spending several hours at the gym 2-3 times a week, then where exactly was she?

**********

I've never liked the term "trophy wife" too much, but I had to admit that Lucinda fit the bill. My first marriage, right after college, ended within a few years, and I spent the rest of my 20s and 30s being single and working my ass off. I dated some, but mostly I devoted myself to learning the financial services business and started my own firm. We hit the $100 million billing mark when I was 38, and by the time I hit 40 I was worth about $12 million myself.

Lucinda and I met at a party, and hit it off right away. Not surprising, at least from my side--she's very beautiful and full of life, funny, confident, and smart. Far less obvious why she was interested in me--though someone may have told her about my money--but she seemed to like me from the very beginning.

We dated for six months or so before I asked her to marry me; and even though I made clear that marriage to me came with an ironclad prenuptial agreement, she was happy to say yes. At her urging we had a big, fancy, Chicago society-page wedding, then a honeymoon for three weeks in Bali where she basically tried to fuck me to death.

Have I mentioned Lucinda likes sex? Either that, or she likes pleasing me and knows I like sex. Either way, all the bed-bouncing we were doing (before and after the wedding) kept me a very happy man.

Now, however, Marcie's accidental slip made me wonder if I wasn't about to be a cliché: the cuckolded husband of a trophy wife.

It didn't take more than two weeks to get the dirty details. Lucinda had been banging Chris Remington, the staff director for Chicago Serves, a charitable organization she volunteers for. (Lucinda didn't want a regular job once we got married, and that was fine with me.)

Apparently they'd been sweating up the bedrooms of various fancy hotels for several months--God knows how they paid for the rooms, because Lucinda was careful to make sure no surprise charges turned up on her platinum Amex card.

All that fun hadn't kept Lucinda from keeping my bed warm, however. Our own sex life was as vigorous as it had been. I didn't know whether she still genuinely cared for me, or whether coming home from banging her boyfriend and jumping in bed with me turned her on somehow. And it didn't really matter. Now that I knew I was sharing her, our marriage was about to be over.

But you don't succeed in business by being a hothead and acting out of emotion--and I was quite successful in business. I decided to take at least two weeks to think about my options before I lowered the boom on my pretty, straying wife. She was gone, that was a done deal. But first I needed to know more.

And the "more" had to do with a conversation on one of the audio tapes that my PI firm told me about. They had all the audio and photos I would ever need, but I hadn't looked at or listened to any of it. She was cheating on me--our marriage was over--and that was that. No need to torture myself.

But apparently the pillow talk had been going beyond the usual, straying into the realm of "I can hardly wait until we can be together all the time," and "when you get all the money together and leave your husband." That got my attention!

So I had a little discreet investigating and auditing done. Over the past four months, it turned out, my loving bride had managed to squirrel away over $230,000 of my money. She was making the usual ATM withdrawals, never all that much at a time, but much more often than before. And she was buying dresses and shoes and accessories on her Amex card--I'd never limited her budget at all--and then quietly returning them for cash.

(I know, I know--stores won't let you do this. I assume that Lucinda was quietly working a deal with them, either because she was such a good customer or because somebody was getting a cut. Either way, she was getting away with it.)

So I had Lucinda dead to rights--but I didn't know where the money was. And I knew that $230,000 wouldn't be nearly enough to keep her happy for long, so I wondered what the rest of the plan was, and vowed to sit tight a little longer until I figured it out.

**********

Only three days later I got my answer. A young woman from the First United Bank called my office to discuss my safe-deposit box. Actually "our" safe-deposit box, because it was a joint account with Lucinda.

The young woman, Judy Stengberg, was obviously a good employee--attentive and full of initiative. She'd only been at the bank a few weeks, having gotten the job when she returned from Sweden where she'd worked for several years (and acquired a husband.)

And she was calling to let me know that my wife had made quite a scene earlier that day. She'd tried to access our box, but Judy had informed her that she couldn't open it unless I was also present and signed the bank's ledger. It seems Lucinda had gotten rather demonstrative, and Judy had needed the assistance of two security men to get her to leave.

It took no more than a few moments before I realized that I now knew the rest of Lucinda's plans. Our safe-deposit box contained, among the various legal papers of no financial value, nearly $2 million of jewelry that I had bought for my lovely wife: a dazzling diamond choker, some diamond-stud earrings, and a sapphire-and-diamond bracelet.

I had always thought that, whatever my other charms, it was these expensive purchases that convinced Lucinda of my potential as a husband. And it now seemed that she viewed these trinkets as getaway money for her and Chris the boy-toy.

A few more days of audio surveillance gave me the rest of what I needed. Lucinda had already given Chris the cash (seems like she was pretty trusting for an adulterer!). They'd bought their plane tickets, for two separate and elaborately indirect trips to Rio de Janeiro. All that remained was for Chris to impersonate me at the bank and help Lucinda remove the jewels from the safe-deposit box. After that they'd be on their way.

Whoever said "knowledge is power" is absolutely right. The rest was child's play.

**********

On the morning of Thursday, November 19 Lucinda made a point of waking me up a little early. She had a nice way of doing it, too--with her mouth on my cock, followed by an energetic cowgirl ride until we both came hard. Then she dragged me into the shower where we played a little more while we washed each other.

"That was quite a start to the day, honey," I said. "Is today a special occasion?"

She smiled back, and passed me the coffee. "Not at all, Dave--I just felt like making sure you knew how I felt about you." She came around and sat down in my lap, snuggling up and feeding me a piece of bacon.

We cuddled and kissed through the rest of breakfast, and then I went off to get dressed for work. As I was putting on my coat she came down into the hall and said, casually, "oh, by the way, honey? That damn board meeting got moved to tonight, so I may be out rather late. It's a big nuisance, but I promised I'd go. D'you forgive me?"

I got another big hug and kiss along with the question, and of course I told her it was all right. Not hard to see what she had in mind. She was setting me up not to worry, giving herself a few extra hours before I wondered where she had disappeared to.

**********

I was smiling as I sat at my desk. Today was the day and everything was in place. Lucinda's flight was scheduled to leave at 2:35, and Chris's on another airline at 3:15. My people would be at the airport by 12 noon, and when Chris tried to board he'd be arrested for concealing more than $10,000 in cash in violation of Federal currency regulations. I had the evidence to show that the money was mine--well, mine and Lucinda's--and there was little doubt that he'd be in jail for some time to come.

But no one was going to bother Lucinda. She'd check her bags, board the plane, and be on her way. After about 19 hours and four flights she'd be landing in Rio, ready to start her new life with Chris, a lot of cash, and a great wad of valuable jewelry. The only trouble was, there wouldn't be any Chris, or any cash.

My phone rang just after 11:30--as expected, it was Judy Stengberg.

"They were just here," she said. "As you predicted, your wife came in with someone else--a tall guy, a bit younger than her. He signed your name and they spent a few minutes with the safe-deposit box, then they left."

I smiled broadly. "Thanks, Judy. You've been a terrific help. And I really appreciate your letting me quietly get into my box the other day, once I explained the situation."

I leaned back in my chair, relishing the vision of Lucinda on the plane holding her big purse on her lap with $2 million of jewels--not knowing they were fakes, worth about $150. Somehow I doubted that would be quite enough money to give Lucinda the life she was hoping for.

"Listen," I said. "I'd like to express my appreciation personally. How about if I take you and Hendrik out to dinner this Saturday? Someplace really fancy, like La Rondine?"

Judy giggled and said, "thanks, Uncle Dave--that would be great!"