Heel and Toe

Author's plea: please see my notes at the end of this story for an apology. Life has been uncooperative, and I need to make an accounting of myself. I truly appreciate the time invested in reading my stories. Thank you!

The story is in four parts. As all parts were written and life has been throwing a tantrum, I thought it best to publish them all together. This is the complete story.

Heel and Toe

Part One: Confrontation

The centrifugal force in that tight turn felt like it wanted to fling the DBR from the track, worse it felt like it wanted to launch me out of the car! It ... kept ... growing. I wasn't going to make it. the car was going to lose traction and slide off the track, why had they left those trees there? My belt loosened. I felt myself slide further out of my seat. I wasn't going to make it! I had to complete the curve! I was trying desperately to hang on! Then...

I woke from my short slumber. I hadn't slept well for a long time. I was in my hotel room sitting in a chair designed to be looked at rather than sat in. The horrible pictures we still in my lap and fallen around me like tainted snowflakes in a light breeze.

I picked up the fetid things and placed them into an order I could work with. I strained forward and dropped them into my open briefcase. I made my way in a distracted haze to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face to free me from the effects of adrenaline caused by my recurring dream.

I looked at my haggard face in the mirror. I was still young, yet already successful. I had dreams of being a racer and had a real chance at making it happen. Then I met the girl of my dreams, Devon. I loved her father and mother. James was a kindred spirit, it seemed like he and his wife, Marta, had raised Devon to be my dream come to life. I'd made sacrifices to ensure a long happy life with Marta. I was great with stocks, so I traded the track for a ticker, and a wife.

Now that life was coming apart flying off course in the curve, just like my dream. I'm not a complicated man my dream's meaning was obvious. It all seemed to be going away. James was dead. Marta acted like she wanted to be. And Devon, my Devon, was...

I shook my head forcing the thoughts and subsequent tears away. There may still be time to save things. I was never one to go quietly. I knew what I wanted and could set and steer a course for it. But I wasn't sure I wasn't going to lose it in the curves just like my dream.

It was time to get in the throttle and fight. It was time to chase the redline. It was time to go home.

* * * * * *

"Hey folks," I announced, walking into the kitchen surprising my wife and her mother. Even my mother-in-law, who I had come to see and the quintessential bitch in my unfolding tragedy, looked like she'd gotten caught with her hands in the cookie jar.

I continued, "Devon, you told me there was no point for me to call from my trip as you were staying at home tonight and turning in early. I decided to come home and do it in person." I casually sat my phone down atop my brief case on the counter disguising its mission to capture everything that happened. I hoped the recording would never be needed. "But instead it looks like you are going clubbing. And wow, from the way you're dressed it may be a swinger's club. Is it?" I kept my tone chipper; it was more annoying that way.

My mother-in-law, Marta, finally sputtered into Disney wicked queen mode. "That's ridiculous! Come on daughter, we won't talk to him if he's making accusations."

"Actually, I'm beyond accusations. I'm drawing conclusions. It appears my lovely young wife is going out cruising for guys with her relatively newly single mother."

They acted shocked at what I said, not scandalized, but rather that they were found out.

"So, ladies," I continued, "last night you said you had a quiet evening in with drinks, except you weren't here, you were in a dance club. Tonight, you said you were going to bed early. But as you are dressed to kill, and your first recourse at seeing me home wasn't, "darling wonderful to see you," but "we have to go because we have plans," I conclude the part you left out about turning in early was in whose bed."

My mother in law roared. I didn't hear a word she said. I looked at my wife who was turning crimson, perhaps with a little green. If she kept it up, she'd soon make a wonderful Christmas display.

I kept up the heat, "Let me guess. It's a combination: you will be in bed, and you will be dancing, just horizontally. But first it's dancing at bars. It's normally done that order. You dress the way you are both dressed to generate attention from men. So, your basic description of the evening does fit; you just left out some pertinent facts."

"We are dressed respectably!" My mother-in-law countered defiantly.

"Sure, for a respectable seduction. Which may be fine for you, except I don't want my wife to be this inviting by other men."

My wife's eyes were darting back and forth between her mother and me.

"You don't think she's lovely, what kind of a husband are you?"

"As a matter of fact, no I don't. And that's because I'm the sort of husband that's still in love with my wife, though wondering if I should be."

That shocked both women, "She's provocative and hot. And that is not how my wife goes out for fun without me. I might say though, it's how you went out last night too!"

Now they were quiet. I was happy to let them stew.

"Mom" tried another grandstand, "Come on Devon, there's no talking to him now. Let him feel what it's like without us. We'll see how he responds when we come home!"

I held my wife's gaze. She was looking very guilty and had the good sense to stay put.

"My wife isn't going out," I told them without drama, it was just a fact.

Marta, my mother-in-law, played the indignant card, "That's it! You can't control us. You can't..."

"Shut up! Yes, I can. Marta, you live in a bullshit world of rules and laws where good people feel hemmed in and hampered. It's bullshit because of bullshit people like you. Let's get real. The two of you have no chance of over-powering me. If I have to tie you to your chairs with lamp cords, I will. If you want to go clubbing, no, let's stop the bullshit and call things what they are, if you two want to go out whoring you can. Just say the word and we will all know the story here is over."

"Over?" My wife asked very nervously.

"Yes, over Devon. My wife is not going to a club to pick up a man. If we call off the marriage you can go, but then you're no longer my wife. Maybe you aren't already, that's another little omission you forgot to mention to me."

Her red green face became pale.

"Ask your mom. She and her dearly departed husband used to club race. When someone finishes the required laps first the race ends. You guys have been spinning your wheels while I've been busy. Would you like to see the tape or photos of your escapades last night when you had "a quiet evening in? The remodeling job you were going to start on the house is staggering."

I looked around sarcastically noting no change at all. However, my mother-in-law was silent now. I continued as they began to realize we were much further into the possible fallout of their actions than they thought; the game wasn't starting, it was over.

I reached into my briefcase, "Let's go to exhibit A, here," I motioned to Devon, "My wife is dressed in a very sexy silk top. She's obviously into the braless look now, because ever since I have come home, I've watched her nipples make an etch-a-sketch of that thin silk top. And I know you didn't intend the display for me, did you Devon? You thought I was away, and you told me you'd be at home. Both were lies. We don't use words like fabrications or willful misleading in the non-bullshit world. But wait, I don't think you quite got the look right."

I got up reached across the table and ripped her blouse open, the buttons flew like shrapnel across the room. Her ta-tas shook and danced out in space now as she recoiled.

"There. I think that's really the show you were hoping to put on. It's in line with how you wore your shirt, and tits, last night." I made a point of examining the photograph before laying it on the table. Her shirt was unbuttoned almost to her navel, opened so that only her nipples held it closed, indeed a good amount of one areola was there for all to see. My wife gasped. Her mother looked frightened then came on like a mother wolf.

"S-She will have to change now." He mother simply blurted not thinking.

"No. The problem is she already has!" My wife went completely pale; the Christmas colors were gone. "Devon has changed because you, Marta, are deliberately wrecking my marriage. Tell me, would your late husband let you go out like that? And would he put up with the venom you've spit at me? No fucking way! You might go out like that, but James would never let you back in. And that's where I am with my wife: at the end. I'm just here to deliver that news and put the ball back in your court."

"A-At the end?" Devon's voice was dry, the corners of her lips turned down into the classic carp mouth.

"Yep. That's the trouble with lapped traffic, they often lose a feel for how the race is unfolding at the top, where things will actually be decided." I took a large inhalation of air, "I have a couple of recordings. I know for a fact, love of my life, that is how you ended up wearing your blouse last night: unbuttoned! I know the men on the dance floor could see your tits because I could them the pictures! The guys at your table sure got a show."

I raised my eyebrows as I placed two more photos on the table, one of her on the dance floor and another of her back in the booth that showed exactly what I described.

Devon shook and tried to pull her shirt closed more tightly. She looked about to throw up.

"I love you, though it seems obvious you've changed your mind about me. I didn't know the emotion could be revoked just like that. I'm at the end of the race. I want to know if you're with me in victory circle, or if you are leaving for another team. That's what we're deciding. That's why we are here tonight. There's no point in pretense or hollow threats. If I'm not satisfied..." I stopped, hearing something outside on the street in front of our house. "Wait. Witch, look out the window, what do you see?"

My mother-in-law glared back at me. However, Marta shuffled over to the kitchen window wanting to be angry while Devon tried to turn in her seat still clutching her shirt shut. Their insecurity was beginning to peak through, "Oh my God, it's a moving van."

Marta stared at her daughter trying to figure out a response. This was not what she'd told Devon would happen.

"What are you planning?" Marta's words didn't have near the piss and vinegar in them now.

"I haven't thought it through yet. I'm not sure if your daughter's things get taken to your house. This next part is an interesting wrinkle, if I leave, I'm considering setting the house on fire before I go. So, her moving into your house will be a lot easier."

The ladies stared at each other, mouths agape, before turning back to me in unison.

"The point is you made a unilateral change in yourself and our relationship. Now it's my turn. If I get more sass, or if you walk out, I'll have carte blanche and will do whatever is best for me alone, since that's how you will have left me."

I reached down opening my brief case again to remove a sheaf of papers. "The basic language is what I would go for. The listed cause of adultery won't get me a break on the money, but I can still list the cause if I choose in this county. You know what? You've made a lot of choices contrary to my best interests, so if I go this route, I choose to list adultery as the last straw. Why? Because my life has been full of bullshit recently because you Marta started filling it with the foul stuff.

"Somehow you convinced my wife to fuck me over! So, I'm doing a reno on my life and making it a bullshit free zone. Hell, I might have the top of that page blown up and put on a billboard! If you think about it, perhaps it's more embarrassing to me. You know, I couldn't keep my woman happy, so she started dating. That's not great for me, but I can stomach the truth. You guys did all this, wanted it, pursued it, planned it, hid it, and lied about it to protect it. Surely, you'd be proud to publicly live up to the actions you've pursued with such fervor."

They looked at each other. My wife was pale as a ghost now. She was staring at my mother-in-law incredulously. She had that thousand-yard stare building, the one that said, "this can't be happening".

I asked, "Devon dear, didn't you have your shirt open last night at your table? Didn't you have it open on the dance floor too? Wasn't it also open elsewhere?"

Devon's face shot up to meet mine. Her mouth was a straight crease of anxiety dividing her face into what was above and below.

"So, Marta, did you act like a slut like this at the concourse races? Did your husband, James, know about this dark side of yours?"

She tried to slap me. I caught her hand mid arc. I chose to hold it for a while, a gentle demonstration of what I'd said earlier.

"That's the first appropriate thing you have done in months. But you're doing it to the man you're wronging. Plus, you're doing it in defense of turning your own daughter into a cheap slut. You're doing a fine job of taking on the role of family matriarch after the patriarch succumbs, aren't you?"

There was fire in her eyes. Until my next sentence, "I hope James didn't know. I pray he didn't know. Did you cheat on him regularly? Like you're training my wife to do to me?"

She tried to slap me again: strike two. "Why are you angry at me? Have I said anything that wasn't one hundred percent true? When your husband was taking hot laps in the vintage sports car races, were you "burning rubbers" in some secluded parking lot?"

Marta saw my face. I was ready to slap her back if she did anything stupid. Well, anything else stupid. I didn't let up, "Because of you, my beloved wife may have done that last night! You want the photos? Do you want to see all the pretty pictures that ripped my heart out? I have them of you too, back inside the nightclub."

The ladies looked at each other. My wife looked guilty as sin, which shocked Marta, catching the air in her lungs. She could no longer prize her eyes away from her daughter studying her.

"Why Marta? What did I do that you would turn so venomous towards me? Why did you want to break up my marriage and destroy my happiness? What would make you wreck your daughter making her cheap in the process? Why, goddam it? Devon was wonderful! Do you have any idea how much I love her? Devon should know how much I love her, but now that you have her started she keeps seeing that loser!"

Marta's gaze at her daughter finally broke as she turned rapidly to face me and the message I was delivering.

"What could you have said or done to turn her against me so thoroughly and so quickly? Marta, I'm really asking here: did she never love me, was that it? Did you know and want to save her from that sort of marriage? If so, why not just tell me? I thought we were tight. I thought I was part of your family. Except I can see where you have mistreated Devon too."

"I-I have not! S-She just wanted to back me. I-I didn't want to hurt you, or your marriage." It sounded like she was breaking. She looked back at her daughter with an expression of fear. It wasn't just what was happening to my marriage, Marta truly wondered what her daughter had done with the other man now.

"Why did you encourage her to fool around with that guy? I can see wanting a wingman, but why not at a nice place? And why a partner in crime. You're free to do as you wish now that James has passed, but why did you tell my wife to fuck that guy? Why that? Why the death sentence to my marriage?"

I was the one who had broken, you could hear it in my voice. They could tell now with absolute certainty that nothing I proposed was a bluff. My wife gasped too, and not in a surprised-to-hear-it way. But rather a "Oh God he knows" way.

Marta turned back to me "Wait, Reggie, Devon never..."

"Wait yourself," I cut her off reaching into the case and pulled out a thick sheath of photos looking for a few in particular. The size of the stack made Marta blanche, she started swallowing in large gulps. My precious wife simply went grey now. It appeared she may soon shift into vapor.

I pulled the photos I wanted and threw them on the table. Two were of my wife getting into a car, her skirt already bunched up over her naked non-panty clad ass, her hand grasping a man's shirt pulling him in after her. It looked like he would end up atop her. At the very least she was pulling him between her widening legs. The other picture, taken a few moments before, showed the man kissing Devon, his hands were under her skirt, clearly groping her non-panty clad ass. Another picture showed his hand palming her between the legs as she climbed into the backseat before him. Not all of his fingers were visible between her legs. My wife shrieked and recoiled. So did my mother-in-law, who was shaken severely.

Marta tried to intervene; her tone had changed completely. "Reg, Reg you're right, this is my fault. I didn't think... I misunderstood... I didn't mean to..." she wound down looking shocked and scared for her daughter. My wife was feeling bad and guilty. Devon had been pulling away from me, seeing her reaction I hopefully thought it was because of guilt, not attachment to the yahoo she'd been seeing.

I was quieter now, subdued even, the tone in my voice told them both I cared, cared enough to be very hurt by what was going on. "Devon?" She didn't answer me and would not look at me. I heard my mother in law gasp again. When I looked up Marta was staring at her daughter and her reticence to speak to me. Marta looked on in shock and horror her eyes ablaze and her mouth hanging open.

"Marta, we have a problem. My wife is pissed at me all the time and doesn't want to share the day with me. We barely have sex. We are one step away from my merely having a surely roommate who doesn't maintain, cook, clean, pay the rent, or buy the food. No one, not even a man in love as much I am, wants a roommate like that."

Devon looked up like she wanted to argue the point then went still. Her eyes darted as she thought. Then she seemed quiet and frightened again. I imagined that was the point she realized I hadn't exaggerated one bit.

"I wouldn't put up with the attitude from a new person at work. Tell me how I wouldn't be better off to be single and dating?" They both looked up at me wanting to object. I answered their unvoiced objections by sliding the picture of my wife with another man's fingers in her as he climbed into the back of a car to presumably fuck her. My mother-in-law looked shaken and heartbroken; my wife shook her head in complete horror not knowing how to respond.

"I don't want to be single, nor dating. I'm seeing if I need to modify my behavior and start though. Since you won't go out on a date with me maybe I should grab a gal and we could all triple date with our respective squeezes. Maybe I should just ask my wife what to do or who to ask out. Devon should know because she IS dating!"

Devon's response was loud and rushed, "Reggie, no. I-I apologize! I'm desperate to apologize! I-I can't deny the picture... the horrible thing it shows. Reggie, you have to believe me, there have to be pictures to show and prove what I'm about to say. I know it looks like he is about to crawl between my legs, and I know it looks like we'll have sex as soon as he pulls down his pants. But we didn't have sex! We didn't! I swear.

Seeing I wasn't moved she continued, "I know I don't have credibility with you right now. A-And I know I have hurt you," she closed her eyes before adding, "and our marriage. I admit to getting too far involved. I admit horrendous behavior. But I swear honey, I didn't go THAT far."