All sex in this story is between consenting adults. So is the violence believe it or not.
Before you send in comments about how far-fetched it is, I know. I wrote the fucking thing after all.
This story will not appeal to the extreme BTBs or RAACs. I suggest they don't read it.
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I checked out my husband sitting next to me on the couch, glad that our conversation of last night seemed to have done no lasting damage. That didn't surprise me in the least. He was a man's man and one of the strongest male characteristics I admire is their ability to say their piece then forget it. Topic over. Job done. I'd known this when I broached the subject last night.
"Dave, are you having an affair with Karen?"
I'd been fairly sure he was. In the previous two or so months he'd changed subtly but significantly. Where I used to be able to set my watch by when he came home. Now he was late at least once a week. Where I knew just where he was 24 hours per day, now there were unknown, blank patches.
Then there was his new acquaintance with Karen, the widow across the street. Once, I'd gone out on Saturday and had come back to find him mowing her lawn. When I'd quizzed him about it later, Dave said he noticed she had twisted her ankle so when he saw her return home with a load of shopping, he'd offered to help unload it. While doing that, he'd noticed that her lawn needed mowing, so he'd done that for her. From then on I'd come home several times to find him across the road. Once he'd come back with his shirt buttoned up wrong. When I asked him about that, he told me that he had been fixing her blocked sink and had removed his shirt for flexibility.
Unable to believe this man I firmly believed was totally incapable of guile was cheating on me, I stepped up my observations. As a test I also started subtly withholding sex from him. Knowing him as I did I knew that if he could go for a week or two without making love to me, he must be getting it elsewhere. He lasted three weeks without even mentioning it.
Yesterday he'd gone to work on a Saturday, very unusual for him. Half an hour later I saw Karen leaving, dressed very nicely. Bingo.
I knew with Dave I didn't have to set up any fancy surveillance or hire a PI. I just had to ask him. So, once I'd worked up the courage, I did. He just turned and looked directly at me and said, "No."
That was it. Almost.
"Are you having an affair with anyone?"
Again a simple, "No."
I knew then with 100% certainty. My husband wasn't having an affair. He went back to watching the television. I didn't proposition him that night. Partly so I could concentrate on pondering why I'd suspected him in the first place. That proved fruitless. Secondly, I didn't want to make it blatant that I'd seriously suspected him by withholding favours for longer than I ever had before. Tonight was a different story though. Tonight I would repair any damage I'd done.
Surreptitiously I continued to check him out.
If forced to reduce Dave to one word I would tell you that Dave was a simple man. If given the luxury of using more words, I would say quiet, guileless, undemonstrative, unambitious, a black and white thinker, unobservant, loyal, direct and very, very honest. Some people interpreted some, or a combination of these, as him being dumb. I knew that wasn't the case. All the above were the product of his difficult childhood. Harder to explain was the fact that there wasn't an ounce of malice in him. (I apologise to my fellow metric lovers. It just doesn't sound the same saying, he didn't have 32.2 grams of malice in him).
Me. Well I was just about the polar opposite. So why had we married four years ago? Simple. Opposites attract. I'd had relationships with men alike to me and they didn't work. Then my mother had told me about her secret for a successful marriage. Marry someone totally different and manage the difference. Use each other strengths and cover their weaknesses with your own strengths. Dave and I had discussed this many times in our long courtship. He knew his shortcomings and wanted me to be completely happy with them before we committed. In the end, I had to propose to him. In short, he was my life partner and I loved him dearly.
I deliberately stopped looking at him through the eyes of a sophisticated 21st century, professional woman and turned my other sight on. The one used since Uggette had first set eyes on Ugg. Towering over me at 6' 1", his muscled frame, earned by his physical job, made me look like a waif. In the local vernacular, he was built like a brick shithouse. But gentle with it. The perfect combination of well-endowed and considerate lover, topped off the package.
I realised my panties were dripping in anticipation of my apology to come. I knew I had to act fast when Dave yawned and announced bedtime. I followed and went into the bathroom to clean up a bit. When I got out Dave was almost asleep.
Crawling into bed naked, I wrapped myself around my hulking husband. Who again yawned.
"Can we not do this now please?"
"Why not honey? Did I upset you last night?"
Dave yawned again.
"No, it's because you had an unprotected fuck with your boss last Monday. My friend said that if I made love to you, I could catch a disease. Goodnight."
He then rolled onto his side with his back to me.
I uncurled myself from him in shock. He knew. How did he know? How long had he known? What the hell was I going to say? I was so sure this day would never come that I hadn't thought of any, well, excuses.
I knew the justification that I had used at the start. There was a promotion coming up at work and I wasn't totally confident that it was in the bag. Deep down I knew that Dave wouldn't amount to much and that was fine with me. I loved him just the way he was. If we wanted to have a substantial nest egg when we decided to have children, I knew it was up to me. The promotion would be a big step towards that goal. So I'd started responding to my office managers rather blatant flirting. He couldn't believe it. Within two weeks we had gone from flirting to an all evening romp in a motel. I was quite proud of the elaborate plan I'd devised to get us both a pass for the night.
I knew that I couldn't use that excuse to Dave though. In hindsight it might seem a little mercenary. In some lights, even slutty.
After the first time, things had spiraled out of control a little. Believing that Carl and the promotion were in the bag, I'd thought our rendezvous had been a onetime thing.
Two things had made a lie of this.
Firstly, having bedded me, Carl had openly started flirting with Pamela, my main rival for the promotion. If Pamela decided to use her natural assets as well, then I was honest enough with myself to realise there would be no guaranteed winner.
The second was the thrill of the experience. Not the sex. That was just an act that even I had to admit wasn't nearly as satisfying as my love life with Dave. Hell Dave had the home team advantage. Seven years of learning, by trial and error, exactly what I liked. Besides, very few men are as gifted as Dave in my experience. No, I realised, it was a different kind of thrill. The excitement of thinking of an excuse to be somewhere else, with someone else when I would normally be home with my husband. Thinking of all the possible scenarios to explain where I was if he became suspicious of any one aspect of my story. The meticulous clean-up before I dared come home. The elevated pulse of deciding on a hiding place for my new lingerie, bought to overcome my natural disadvantages compared to Pamela and to enhance the experience for Carl. Christ, even the mild guilt I felt before and afterwards did more to enhance the experience than detract from it. Then there was the thrill of the tiny but ever present chance of Dave discovering my activities. All stimulating mental fun.
All of a sudden, my own question from last night answered itself. The suspicion of Dave was prompted by my own activities. Obvious now in hindsight. Whenever you point your finger at someone in accusation, look down at your hand. Three fingers are pointing back at yourself.
Those understandings, in the here and now explained everything. How many of them could I tell Dave? The answer was a stark, 'None'.
That is why, in the here and now, I lied through my teeth. Facing Dave's back I adlibbed. I knew I had to make it vague. He knew about last Monday but what about the five Mondays and a couple of Saturdays before that? The process wasn't helped by the fact that I was terrified. Controlling that terror alone took the best part of three minutes.
"Carl came on to me when I was feeling particularly low. He took me out to lunch and I, well I had about three glasses of wine while he told me how attractive I was. I'm sorry darling, I fell for all his shit and we ended up in a room. Oh Dave, it was awful. I felt terrible afterwards. When it was over I felt horrible and told him it could never happen again and he said that was fine. It was so hard not telling you that I'd fallen and been unfaithful but I wanted to protect you from the hurt, really. Then the next week he came up to me and just announced that we were going to do it again that night. I said no but he threatened to tell you and get me fired. Oh Dave, what could I do? I knew if I made a complaint and it came down to his word against mine I would probably lose. I hate to say it Dave but recently I stopped telling him to go away when he flirted with me. I always had before. That must have encouraged him. Enough people in the office probably saw us flirting and would back up his side of the story."
I paused to see how Dave was taking all this. Give him an opportunity to respond. This was really hard work. In the darkness Dave rolled onto his back but didn't say anything.
"Can you forgive me for one lapse of judgement, please honey? With your backing I will have the courage to stand up to him and say no. I should have done that from the start. If he tries to hold me back at work or get me fired I can threaten to tell the company what he did. I'm sure he will leave me alone. Oh darling, please forgive me and I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will never flirt with another man again as long as I live. I know it can be fun, but I now know it can be very dangerous. Please."
I'd heard that a good interrogation technique was for the questioner to just remain silent and wait for the suspect to fill the silence with ill thought out rubbish and condemn themselves. I couldn't believe my darling Dave was smart enough to do that though. I shut up anyway. To be honest, I'd run out of things to say. I waited for my fate to be announced from the silence of the other side of the bed.
There was absolutely nothing. He must be really thinking deeply which was a positive wasn't it? No knee jerk reaction from him. The only sound was the pounding of my heart in my ears. Until I heard a soft snore beside me. The bastard was asleep! Had he heard nothing? That was kind of good, it gave me time to think of more convincing excuses. But it also gave me another problem. Not only did I now not know exactly what he knew about me and Carl but I didn't know how much of my explanation he had heard. At what point could my recent excuses stop and new ones start. I spent most of the rest of the night scheming, only falling to sleep exhausted after 4AM.
I staggered awake the next morning feeling great as you can imagine. Dave always left for work before me and got home earlier. I debated letting him leave without speaking but let fear drive me downstairs. He was just finishing his breakfast. Unusually there was nothing set aside for me. I sat down opposite him at the kitchen table.
"Good morning Sue."
