Francesca And Me

FRANCESCA AND ME

The Consequences of Denial - an allegory

I was reading an article recently describing how it was generally thought that women better than men can intuitively sense their spouse is cheating. It said this is a myth because men do but they are more inclined for one reason or another to deny it in their minds.

That was certainly true of me. I suppose I knew for years she was unfaithful but to who or when I did not know. There were probably several reasons. I was unwilling to find out because all of the shit I would have to go through financially and emotionally. I would rather let sleeping dogs lie and hope the problem would resolve itself. Then there were our two sons. I wanted them independent before I lowered the boom. In a way, using that excuse covered my procrastination. They were not that close to my wife at all. Francesca had virtually ignored them since their early teens.

The story I tell is a confession, my health, my life expectancy is now on the line and before I die, I really need to get this one off my chest all be it so long ago.

I had known Francesca since my high school days. We went to different schools, but we were both sporty and met socially through that. I played rugby and she, netball. Unfortunately, I was a hot head and a bit of a smart mouth in those days, and this got me into trouble on the rugby field. I was red carded a couple of times and I got disciplined by the school and told to go to an anger management course before I could resume playing. It was a big decision because I was in the school first fifteen. I had developed a reputation and as a result a bit of a marked man on the paddock.

I went to the anger management course; my parents took care of that but I never went back to rugby. I was too ashamed. Instead, I became more academically focussed and figured that although a promising rugby player, it would interfere with my engineering aspirations.

I did not actually get together with Francesca until after I graduated. She had graduated and was teaching at a local college. We met in a bar socially, remembering one another from school days. She had broken up with someone and I was at a loose end. Our relationship flourished and we were eventually married.

Francesca was the catholic daughter of a fisherman and a teacher. She was very exotic looking with her Italian heritage, Thick Jet black, wavy shoulder length hair, parted in the middle framing a cherubic face. Pale olive skin and a beautiful curvaceous body. Like me she had been sporty. I remembered watching her playing netball, and boy was she physical. She admitted to coming to watch me play rugby and was there the day I got banned.

Francesca could be a snob, she could be self-entitled, self-opinionated and self-anything actually. It did not worry me in those days as it was never directed toward me. It would amuse me socially in how she could put some obnoxious person down verbally.

We never really argued. Sure, she would take a hissy fit from time to time and wave her arms about shouting but it would always blow over quickly and never turned into a real argument. She also did not goad people like some wives would. She would just blow off. I think she knew there was a temper buried in me somewhere and it was not where she wanted to go. The upshot was that there was never ever any violence between us but then we were never forced to open up about things that were personal or were aggravating us.

In fact, in the early stages of our marriage we got on really well. Yes, when we got married, we were romantically and deeply in love and couldn't get enough of one another then as the reality of children and the humdrum married life set in, we were still there side by side supporting one another.

Our lives were comfortable, we had a good house, nice cars, we could go on good holidays mainly because I progressed in my career quickly and her income supplemented it nicely. Maybe in retrospect it was a little too comfortable for her, I don't know, I think in the end she took it for granted. Her life was never challenged, and she struggled for nothing.

She was a fantastic mother to our two boys up until their early teens. They were very sporty like their parents but as they tended toward cricket and football it was less of an interest to Francesca. I was a parent coach for a while and although Francesca came along to games initially, eventually she would be off with something else to do. To her credit she tried to get the boys interested in tennis so that we could all share a sport, but they faded with that one. They did get interested in golf and we would play occasionally but Francesca was not interested in that. As the boys went through high school cricket seemed to consume their free time along with gaming on their home computer setup.

Another gulf between Francesca and the boys was that her degrees were in languages and English literature. The boy's direction was science and eventually engineering like me. She was all over their homework when they were young but not so when they hit high school.

So, when did I first suspect that Francesca was stepping out on me? I suppose after 10 years of marriage. She was still teaching at the high school. It was just that her school working hours seemed to change. They became less regular. I was busy with work and the boys at the time, and she just seemed to come and go. It was the case that if I didn't see it in front of me, I did not worry about it.

Then she changed jobs. I don't know why, and it was all very sudden. She really did not explain the need, but I do know she took a slight cut in salary as at the high school she had been head of her department. She joined an up market private girls' school. The new job did make her more self-opinionated and dare I say it, self-aggrandising. It was during this time the boys drifted away from the tennis club. I had initially been going as well but I was the first to leave because of work commitments. The boys were to tell me later that it was her behaviour toward certain parents from her school at the club that made them uncomfortable and embarrassed. I was a bit pissed off when I first heard this as they had never said anything to me at the time. But I came to realise that parental relationships are a place that teenage boys fear to tread.

I have to say that at the time I thought as much that tennis was more than hitting balls for her. Why? I don't know, it was just the context of what was happening, the opportunity and an increasing off hand attitude toward me, emotionally and sexually. But I was unwilling to investigate it.

Francesca loved the girls' school. She was constantly talking about 'her' girls. She would also try to team them up with our boys. She was successful in that our eldest, Lloyd, eventually married one of the girls.

It was around this time she came up with a desire to have two more children. She said she was disappointed that she had not had any girls. Offhand it seemed impractical to me. It would be like having two families and besides we had started married life deciding that we would only have two children.

Now I was not totally against the idea, but I admit I was a little sceptical and she never pushed the case. It was convenient for me to just let it go. In retrospect, I look back at that as our biggest mistake.

The next event in Francesca's life was when she resigned from the school and joined a firm to train as a real estate agent. I was completely floored. She had been rabbiting on about getting a new house design and built and was even planning some ideas. I was not opposed to it, but she talked a lot to the boys about it but not so much to me.

She had previously always looked down on real estate people regarding them as intellectually inferior, so it was a doubly surprising move from my point of view.

A year or so later Lloyd left for a gap year before he went to Uni. He was the most enthusiastic of the two boys when it came to cricket and through connections hoped to spend a season playing cricket in England. This left our youngest son in his final year of college.

About this time, I had a major promotion, and I was made principal director for New Zealand by our overseas company. Now, Francesca had always accompanied me at work events, and she was very charming, going down well with my colleagues. In fact, my promotion also had a little bit to do with the overseas directors' impression of her as a suitable spouse. Despite this Francesca seemed oblivious to what I was doing there, my status and the big deal this promotion was. She always saw me as an employee and not the actual owner. For god's sake! For the New Zealand arm, I was the majority shareholder. I could not understand why she wasn't proud of me and showed so such disdain.

All this became a part of my creeping resentment that was gnawing away inside me. it was getting close to our youngest leaving, and I was starting to dwell on her probable infidelity which further fuelled my resentment.

Now being in real estate, it was the perfect job for a cheating spouse. I never knew where she was. Also, she was too smart to allow me to link phones. The work cars were in a pool which they shared so a tracker was out of the question on the car. I was just never going to know what she was doing.

It was not until I got a big wakeup call that I was galvanised into action. I had just got in, cycling home from work one day when my youngest son, Ben appeared out of his grotto he called his bedroom.

He had been gaming all evening having completed his homework and he had just received an Email with a picture attachment. It seemed to have gone to the wrong address and was from someone at Francesca's work. Ben's email address was similar to Francesca for historical reasons, so it was not surprising. It was a picture of Francesca standing with a guy, arm around one another in front of a partly finished house. It had an attached message like, "the pair of you with the lovely house looking good, all the best Sue." Whoever Sue was.

What the fuck. Ben was confused. I had a knee jerk reaction to it and just said it was a work-related message just delete. "Ben just shrugged and said, OK." And that was that. But I could see by the way they held each other and the way she was looking at him that more was going on. Ben was too inexperienced in life to really pick it up on the nuance and perceiving I was not concerned; it did not worry him.

But me? Yes, I was worried. I knew the house. As it happened our house backed on to a large tree covered domain. On the other side of the domain is a small cul-de-sac with a few houses on it. I used the domain and the entrance from this cul- de-sac as a shortcut in biking to and from work. I had seen this house being built on the site of one previously burnt out and demolished. I also knew of the guy. He was a well-known architect. Our firm had done work for him in the past, but he was a poor payer, so we dumped him.

The following Sunday I happened to be out on an extended bike ride. The weekends were a symptom of the malaise in our marriage. It was a busy time for Francesca with open homes and the like. Weekends had been a source of togetherness, and we would often go out in the evenings or make love. Now she was just too tired, or she had to lock down some deal on a property with a client. It was a source of rising tension in our relationship and my trust in her at this stage had probably hit rock bottom.

I had arrived home and was bounding up the stairs to our bedroom when I heard the shower going in the ensuite. Standing in the bedroom was a naked Francesca about to enter the shower room. The sight of her curvaceous naked body was just too much. Overcome with lust I just announced, "Hi Francesca, wow a midday shower, that's unusual, is it for me too?"

Francesca was trying to say something as I discarded my bike gear, but I couldn't hear above the noise of the shower. She was already in the shower when I slipped in. She turned around and glared at me but did not resist when I nuzzled her and massaged her large pendulous tits. We pumped out her special moisturising body lotion and started to soap ourselves down. I worked my way down behind in between her legs and arse. She was wide and very turned on. I felt her arse and it was dilated, which to me was a surprise but also a turn on. My dick was straining at the leash, and it flashed across my mind that I could get some arse action for the first time in about 20 years. With that illusion I got one finger in, two, three then my cock was in, quick as a flash and I began grinding her arse as she flattened against the shower wall. She was not resisting at all; in fact, she had a hand in working her cunt. As I ground and pumped, I nuzzled her neck, and she leaned her head back absorbed in the sensations I was giving her. She pushed her butt back into me and began to arch her back and with a quiver followed by some sharp jerks as she climaxed. With those sharp jerks and a sudden retraction of her arse muscles I went over the top and discharged a load deep into her insides.

I withdrew and Francesca turned around and with her arms around my neck gave me a deep affectionate kiss with her tongue. God, this was new. I felt some hope. I remember now, but I ignored what she said at the time. "I said something like, "Yeah wow Francesca that was so good." She just muttered a reply like, "I hope you enjoyed it because it is the last time I will do that."

I just thought she was referring to the anal sex but in retrospect... well?

As we dressed, I tried to start a conversation. I was buoyed by the sex and thought it would be good to get together and have a heart to heart about things. I burbled on it trying to explain why we should sit down and talk through our future. She looked serious and began to say something like, "I am sorry...I.." she cut herself off and just said "look, I am in a hurry, can we talk about it later." And that was that.

It dawned on me in my resentment that I really had not been doing enough for Francesca lately. I had not been making any positive initiative to our relationship and encouraging her in any way.

I got the idea our marriage needed a refresh before it was too late. I thought a cruise maybe or a stay in the tropics to coincide with our wedding anniversary. I hit on the idea of flying to Dubai to visit some old friends then to England to meet up with our oldest son then a cruise on the Caribbean. There we would get some time alone to discuss things. Next day was Monday and I made tentative flight bookings linking up with a potential cruise and texted our son and the friends in Dubai when we might have been coming. I thought I would discuss it with Francesca and make the final arrangements for the vacation when I got home in the evening.

That night I rode home on my bike as I always did. Tonight. I was energised by the thought of surprising Francesca with my plans. I rode down that cul-de-sac in the wintery evening dark, glancing at the house I had seen in the photograph, the one that had jolted me into action. Unlike the other houses it was dark. The house looked largely finished on the outside apart from the garden which was a construction site mess.

Arriving home I parked my bike in the garage. The garage door was open, and I noted only my Jaguar I-Pace was there, Francesca's VW GTI had gone. Taking off my bike helmet I walked into the sitting room to find Ben sitting there polishing off what looked like the remains of a quiche and watching something on the TV.

"Hi Ben," I said, "Where's Mum?"

"She's gone to grans. There is another Quiche in the oven for you."

As I took out the quiche, I collected some utensils from the drawer and sat down next to Ben and began to eat."

"When is Mum due home?"

"Dunno."

'Damn!' I thought, "I hope she is not too late." I was excited to have my discussion with her. I just knew the surprise would make her happy.

Ben started to get up. "Where are you going?" I asked, "Have you completed today's study?"

"All cool dad, I am gaming this evening."

I needn't have asked really, He was very serious about his work but liked to get it out of the way early so he could spend the evening gaming."

He put his dishes into the dishwasher and disappeared up the stairs to his room. I finished the quiche and put the dishes away. I had not really been looking at what was on TV so I thought I would go up to the bedroom and shower and change out of my bike gear.

When I entered the bedroom, I got an almighty shock. The doors to the dressing room were wide open and most of Francesca's stuff cleared out. I numbly looked into the ensuite and all her toiletries were gone. I rushed around to her bedside cabinet and the drawer was hanging out. That's where she kept her passport and other personal papers. But worse, on top of the cabinet were her engagement and wedding rings. I felt as though my head was going to explode with incandescent rage. I didn't yell, I didn't roar, I held it in. My mind went blank with anger and then I became fixated on the only evidence I had of what she might have done. That house. There was no one there I thought, but I had to do something. I thought I would go there and find something, I don't know, to damage it. I was totally irrational.

I grabbed my helmet and jumped on my bike and took off into the domain. At that time of night there was never anyone around in the trees at that end of the domain. All the action was down on the flood lit playing fields at the other end. I rode around to where I thought was the back end of the property the house was on. The trees were fairly open there. I parked my bike and crept quickly to the house. There was a moon so I could see fairly easily. I looked around a little. There seemed to be no CCTV at the rear of the house, and I noticed a back door ajar, so I opened it quietly and looked in. It was the utility room and laundry. I noticed the appliances were not yet installed and some plumbing work had been going on. There was a lot of paint and solvents stacked there along with brushes and what not. Obviously, this was the store for the interior decoration.

Also, there was an industrial gas bottle with a self-ignitable blow torch connected, I guessed for the plumbing work. My mind was still raging, and I took the irrational next step. It was just too tempting. I turned on the gas bottle and lit the torch and propped it so that the heat was directed onto a pile of wood shavings I gathered next to the solvent bottles.

I then rushed in a blind panic back to the bike, mounted and headed home. At that point I felt a peculiar satisfaction that I was able to avenge Francesca's actions with something tangible.

I arrived back home, went into the sitting room and collapsed in front of the TV. It was only then that I started to feel some remorse as I calmed down.

Why the fuck did I do that. If I get caught, I am toast, career, everything. I thought about it. The damage might not come to anything. A house that new would probably have a domestic fire sprinkler system. It was then I heard a distant boom. Fuck! Was that the gas bottle going up? A few minutes later I heard sirens. Ben heard them as well and he came out of his grotto and down the stairs. "Do you hear those?" he said, "what's it all about?"

"I have no idea," I lied, "sounds like a fire or something."

He just shrugged and went back to his bedroom while I blankly continued to sit and watch TV. I wondered whether Francesca had actually gone to her parents. I pulled out my phone and called. Her Mother answered. Despite how I was feeling I kept my voice as normal as possible and asked her if Francesca was there. Her Mother answered that she had just left. There was nothing unusual about her mother's voice so without mentioning what I had seen in the bedroom I just said, "oh good, I will catch her when she gets in." Her mother did not react to what I said, and we gave our goodbyes.