I Took The Long Way Home

Of course I am writing all of this after the fact so I am skipping that which I deem mundane, and focusing on what, in hindsight, was especially critical. So forgive me if I don't babble on about my childhood, pleasant suppers, lover's spats, my wife's sexual attributes, or languid lovemaking. Our marriage has settled into the long run phase, where we were both working to build a nest egg, and children were in the planning stage. The first inkling I had of trouble was just enough to set me worrying.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and I had spent the week rebuilding an incinerator drive at a wastewater plant in North Jersey. I was coming home right on time. The wife had called me a little after three to see when I expected to be home. This was a normal thing; often I can't leave the job site promptly, or traffic is a problem. Unfortunately I had a horrible connection, so I called her back using hands free voice dialing which was her work number. She had left for the afternoon! Meanwhile she was calling me back, so I picked up.

"Chris, are you all right?"

"Ahh, this is a better line. I'm fine. I just left the job site and I'm about two and a half hours out. Can you think of anything I need to bring home?"

"No, just yourself, love...well pick up some corn and tomatoes at the produce stand.. See you when you get here, and have dinner ready."

I was spot on, arriving within a couple of minutes of the ETA, walked in the door, and hung my wind breaker in the hall closet. Wife called to me from up stairs, and I hollered hello back. Now I don't mean to come off as a crank, but there are only a few wooden coat hangers in that closet, and I always use one of them for my coat. At the moment it was occupied by a very expensive wool sport coat.

I tried it on, and it fit fine, perhaps a little short in the sleeves, but certainly OK if I wore cuff links. Patting it down, the pockets were filled with stuff, business cards, receipts, and such. Apparently someone named Robert Campbell bought something at the Rite Aid drugstore here in the city, at 3:12 that afternoon. I hung it back on the hanger and closed the door. Oh well, I would soon know what's what.

Wifey came tripping down the stairs wearing nothing but a house dress, barefoot, her unfettered breasts jiggling, still damp from a shower; we kissed hello. If you think she meant to be erotic, you're not married. Woman's underwear is not especially comfortable, and my wife doesn't wear any in the house unless she expects company, or plans on going out, so she meant nothing by dressing down. I thought she looked erotic, but then I think she's hot whatever she wears.

"So, have you been home long?"

"Nope, beat you in by ten minutes. I had a rough day, and I'm glad to be sitting in my own living room. Let me put the corn away, well have it tomorros,,,I know I said I was going to cook, but I didn't shop, so I ordered Chinese...it should be here in a half an hour. You don't mind, do you?"

If I wanted to be a pain, I would have asked her who else's living room had she been sitting in, but it irritates people when you listen to what they say, as opposed to what they mean.

I flopped in a chair:

"No, Chinese is fine. So you slaved at your office all afternoon right up to closing?"

She waved a hand as she said.

"Yeah, I told you. I was working on the new advertising copy for a line of bath accessories. Frankly they're total crap, but they're China cheap, and look good at a glance. Nothing I'd give house room to."

I ignored the possible/probable lie about her whereabouts in late afternoon. We chatted a bit, until the food arrived. I paid off the lad, and we sat down to seafood fried rice without the soy sauce which overwhelms the sea food taste, steamed dumplings, crispy Singapore noodles, and crispy shrimp and scallops.

I poured some more tea, and announced;

"Well, I probably should call the police, and tell them we've been broken into. I even think I know who did it."

She looked startled.

"What! My God! What do you mean!"

"Well its simple, Karen. The thief got careless, most of them aren't too bright, you know. He left his sport coat in the closet. His name is Campbell. I suppose the police will have no trouble finding him."

"Oh, that sport coat. It belongs to Bob Campbell. I brought it home from the office. I have to take it back tomorrow."

I said nothing for a while, which usually makes people nervous, and gets them babbling. It didn't work on Karen this time, so I broke the silence:

"Oh! I assumed he was here. So why are you carrying his coat back and forth?"

She was getting irritated,

"Well, he left it in my office."

"So... you expected some one on the cleaning staff would steal it rather then a laptop, or something that they could resell for a reasonable amount of money?"

"Chris, why are you grilling me on this!?"

"Sorry. It's just that while your explanation is possible, it's a bit...odd. Why would you bring someone's sport coat home for...for what, safe keeping? Only to return it the next morning? Really! Do you recall Ockham's razor? That the simplest explanation that fits the observations is likely the true one? There's a much simpler explanation, but as you are my wife, I choose to accept your word that you were at the office all afternoon until 5 PM, so we can forget the simple explanation."

"I told you the truth, except I wasn't getting anything done in the office, so Jen, Howard and I snuck out to a coffee shop, and worked there for the balance of the afternoon. So all right, I'll bite. What's the simple explanation?"

"You and Mr. Campbell left work about 2:50 and came here. As he planned to stay a while, he hung his coat in the closet. You called me to check that I was well away from here...that the coast was clear, so to speak. He left sometime later, forgetting the coat. I suppose you were collaborating on Sudoku puzzles, or some such."

Her face was drawn.

"You're accusing me of cheating, aren't you!"

"No, I'm accusing you of not telling the truth. I don't know the truth, but I think I know lying when I hear it. How do you think a receipt time stamped 3:12 from Rite aid got in the coat pocket?"

"Let me see it."

I handed it to her.

"On the date stamp, for the month it's an eight, not a nine, so it was last month's receipt. So apologize!"

Handing the receipt back. I looked again.

"Well it's ambiguous, either an 8 or a 9. Sorry for that. As to your explanation, I said I accepted your word for what happened, and I meant it. You asked me to tell you the simple, least ridiculous explanation, and the one I mentioned would occur to anyone who didn't trust you as I do. That's all."

I got a loving smile

"I'm glad. I love you, I'm not cheating. What I told you is the truth."

That night, I got a reassurance fuck, which didn't serve her purpose of reassuring me. A better story would be he left it at the coffee shop where they were working, but she couldn't say that as she had said previously said he left it in her office.

I can guess what might have happened, but I don't really know what happened, and if I did, I'd have had to act on that knowledge. And let's face it; I don't want it to be true.

That night, out of the dozing darkness:

Wife:

Damn that was fucking close. That idiot Campbell would forget his father's name...Ha! Assuming he ever knew it to begin with. He does his best work with the little head...in an affair, carelessness is dangerous, and he's careless. Why keep that fucking receipt in the first place. Hmmh good thing it didn't say condoms...I bet he never looked at it, just stuffed it in his pocket. It was fun, but I think it's pretty much over. Chris nailed it. I got lucky and lied my way out, so I got the benefit of the doubt. Can't play that card again."

"Chris, I am not having an affair with Bob, I want you to know that, but it's nice to know that you get jealous."

"Some things, like you, I don't share well at all well..."

I lay there bringing my thoughts together.

"Karen, I married you for life. I expect you to have my children and to grow old with you. I believe that's what you want, too. But, if you should ever change your mind...decide I'm not the one for you, do us both a favor, get a divorce ASAP. It would hurt me, but no doubt I will eventually find someone else, and get on with my life. I'm OK with that. We all make mistakes. It's just a matter of admitting that we have irreconcilable differences. But please, please, don't have an affair and expect to stay married to me, or have an affair as a trial run for your post divorce freedom. I don't think I could handle that very well, nor feel kindly toward the boy friend. Am I clear on that?"

"Chris, I feel the same way."

"Good. Then consider the matter closed. I love you, my dear, go to sleep."

Husband:

Other than the sport coat, our life seemed normal, so far as I could recall, nothing jumped out and I was looking, now. My business was doing really well, I kept two crews busy, but It meant I had to work with them much of the time, so I was traveling more than I did in our salad days (to use a phrase by which my mom meant too poor to put meat on the table.) Life seemed much the same as before, maybe a bit better in the sex department.

It was a month or so later, I was supervising both of my crews, rebuilding some equipment at a paper mill in up state New York. The whole place was shut down for the annual turn around, and we had a bonus coming for early completion, so we worked through second shift two nights running. We gave them the OK to start heating the furnace at 11 PM. It took a while to clean and pack our tools, take a quick shower in the change room and left the plant about 1 AM, a day early. I crashed at the motel for 6 hours of sleep, overslept a bit, and by 9:30 was on the way home.

I was looking forward to a leisurely drive from Wellsville New York, down to Philadelphia. The route would take me through some of the prettiest countryside the USA has to offer. Some people play golf to relax, some listen to music, I like to drive on country roads.

Upstate New York had two boom periods. The first occurred after the revolution when indian farms were taken by whites and continued through the time the Erie canal was built and lasted until the Civil War. This was a farming boom and it coincided with the Greek revival period in American life, and towns founded during this period had names such as Homer, Marathon, Ithaca, Syracuse, all ancient Greek names, and the farm houses were updated with square columns on the corner, and such to match. The crash came when the railroads went through, and could bring mid west produce to the east coast cheaper than it could be grown in central New York.

The second boom came in the early 1900's, this time industrial. It started when Niagara Falls began to produce unheard of amounts of cheap electricity. The cities blossomed with Beau arts and art Nouveau styles mostly in civic buildings. That lasted through the 1950's. Now the area molders, with Greek revival buildings slowly rotting away, and 1890 buildings proudly with the name The Corn Bank, or Farmers Bank in terracotta, sitting vacant. Still the land is gorgeous.

Most of the time I have to drive on interstates, which is work. But... to take back roads, where you never know what's around the bend, mellows me out. I followed the Susquehanna on State Route 706 which paved over the footprints left by Indian trails, gorgeous! Below Towanda, I stopped to see French Azilum, where the supporters of the French monarchy built a small village in 1793 for Marie Antoinette and other royals to take shelter in when she escaped the French Revolution.

Unfortunately, she didn't escape the revolution, the guillotine got her first, and time got most of what the French Loyalists built. I drove in, and paid the token fee, and pocketed the receipt from the very bored lad at the entrance. Unfortunately it contained pretty much nothing. A nice walk along the Susquehanna River, to view a foundation or two of the 1790 buildings, and some nice Greek Revival buildings built 25-50 years later, but the day was a little cold, so was glad to get back to my car to finish the drove through the park until I found a track that took me back to the road, I continued on my way to home.

I got in about 2 PM, and had to drive past my apartment and around the corner, to find a parking space. No parking places in front of the house, which is a bit unusual on a Thursday afternoon. I was dog tired, and left my stuff in the trunk, went into the house, peed, got a drink of water, and decided to take a nap, so as to be able to be a manly man when Wifey came home about 5PM. I didn't even take my shoes off, just laid on my back, on top of the bedspread, hands folded like a corpse. I awoke with a start some time later, when I heard noises in the living room.

All was quiet, but something had woken me, I had been asleep for about an hour. There, the murmur of voices. Who the hell was in the living room? Too early for Wifey. I walked quietly down the carpeted hall, past the front door, and looked in the living room, expecting to see a crack head, and instead saw some punter fucking my wife! Missionary position, him sucking her face. Now I'm not normally a violent person. I have never hit anyone since I was 15 years old, but this, this pissed me off.

I picked up a walnut foot stool my uncle made, flipped it over, and, just as the fucker picked his head up, eyes closed, thrusting his pelvis into my wife's and muttered "Ahh love your cunt!" I brought it down on his head with all my might. There was a hollow 'ploonk' sound, followed by a squishy crunch, as his head was driven violently downward, head butting Wifey's nose and cheek. She screamed, he went limp and his head slid towards the inside of the sofa, I saw with horror her nose crushed, a torrent of blood started to pour out of her nose, he was draped over her, still as the dead. What the fuck have I done! I was horrified at what I had done, call me a wuss, a coward, but I was scared.

Oh shit, I think I killed the bastard! And Wifey's nose was gone, plastered flat, with blood pouring all over the white sofa, she was struggling and hollering trying to get out from under the bastard's dead weight. I set the footstool down, and panicked. I ran! He's dead! I've killed him! Consensual sex does not merit the death penalty! I quietly headed out the door, down the steps glancing around to see if anyone was looking. Around the corner, willing myself to walk casually half a block down the street to where I parked my car.

Shit, I'd best hide my tracks, and pretend to come back at 5:00, closer to my usual time. Sitting in the car for a moment, think, now, let's not be hasty. I am reasonably sure no one saw me come or go. Good. Chances are the cops won't look too hard, and if they do, chances are no one will remember if they did see me. Jesus, I need an alibi for about two hours.

I drove back up to Lansdale, about an hour out of the city, and sat in Seattle's Finest coffee shop. I told the girl behind the counter a joke, hoping she might remember me, and noted he name was Zoe. Unusual enough to be legitimately memorable. I thought that I probably would be justified in killing him...a crime of passion and all, but I'm no lawyer, so it's better if I stay out of the violent bit. I enjoyed a coffee and a 430 calorie scone, putting the $4.86 receipt in my wallet, thus documenting that I was there at 3:45PM and probably for some time there after. When the coffee was cold, I dumped the dregs, took a piss, and headed home.

Wife:

I've been pissed at hubby for a long time, you know? Spending so much time on the road. Three nights out of five, I'm home alone. Him taking me for granted. I have to tell him we're going out for dinner, I have to drag him to a concert. He never volunteers or suggests we do anything. I sometimes wonder if he wants to be seen with me. We've been married for three years, and it seems like, you know, thirty? I married for companionship, and Robert Campbell, who is a nice guy, a traffic manager at work, is good company.

We were joking and flirting harmlessly for a few months, and then, maybe not so harmlessly. Anyway, we started an affair about two months ago. The second time we did it in our place, he fucking leaves his coat in my house, with the fucking receipt for the condoms! That was a close one! Fucking him's been fun, but now the bloom is off the roses. I'm starting to notice more and more things he does that annoy me. For the last few weeks Robert bitched about the cost of a motel. I wouldn't do it in the office, you know, too many people about at all hours. Can't use his house, His wife is home with the kids, plus it's ways outside the city, so like a fool, we've been using my apartment, I'm very careful, but it's dangerous.

I knew Hubbie would be out of town this week, and like I say, I'm having second thoughts about fucking Robert. My husband's suspicious, and the thrill of the sex with Robert is mostly gone, I mean it's OK, but the earth doesn't move, or anything. I put Rob off last week, but agreed to do it this week, as part of my plan to ease out of this affair. We snuck out of work early again about mid afternoon. We each took our own cars, and arrived together. I don't like to do that, it's too obvious, too dangerous, and we have a noisy neighbor in Mrs. Abdul, next door.

Robert and I started stripping before the door closed, and headed for the couch, god I was hot as a pistol! My period's due in a day or two, so that must be it. I folded the afghan in thirds, and laid it in the middle of my new white couch. I didn't want to explain pecker tracks and pussy drops to Hubbie, or anyone else, for that matter. Yeah we use condoms, but afterwards, when we're snuggling, sometimes they fall off, you know.

Of course, I really needn't have bothered, he doesn't see the dirt around the place, but I do. Robert was starting to do the foreplay shit, but I had been thinking about fucking him since last week, and you know? I was twiddling my twat while I drove home from the office. I was ready!

He was licking me from ass to clit, and with each swipe, I shuddered with pleasure. Higher and higher I got. I felt his tongue poking into my ass, and that was such a nasty thing to do. When he reached up and pinched my nipples at the same time he rubbed my clit with his nose, and tongue fucking my cunt, can you believe it? His breath on my clit setoff a lovely orgasm emmm mhh.

I pulled his head up from my cunt, and said:

"Fuck me now, and do it rough, my Studley friend!" I pulled my legs up to give him maximum penetration, and lifted to help him hit my g spot, and he slid in between them. It felt magnificent, his cock plowing in, bottoming out, I squeezed as he withdrew, my cunt milking his cock, and oh god, the plunge! There's nothing like a cock driving in to just knock the womb!

"Oh fuck me, fuck me hard!"

Just as I was soaring up to a second, really grand orgasm, with no warning, the bastard smashed me in the face, and such pain as filled my consciousness, you can't believe!

I screamed at the shock and at the fucking pain! Blood poured out. All over everything. Jesus!

"Get off me you crazy fucker, son of a bitch, cock sucking Asshole! Oh Christ it hurts! Off. Christ fucking Jesus what kind of nut job are you?"

I finally twisted my hips while I pushed at his head, and the sack of shit slid off of me and with a clump hit the floor. I staggered to my feet, and grabbed his shirt to catch the blood as it poured out of my face.

In a panic I looked around to see if he had been, like, shot or something, but all was quiet. What the Fuck happened? I stumbled into the bathroom, and wiped some of the gore off, but blood just poured out of what was left of my nose. Shit look at my nose! It was crushed flat! I started to feel sick to my stomach, I gagged once or twice, from blood running down my throat. I realized I couldn't stay here. I wrapped a towel around my neck and face, to catch the blood, went back into the living room and got dressed as best I could. Robert was starting to get up. Through the fucking veil of agony, I hollered: