This is the first of three endings to the Inferidelity series.
As a preview, the other two endings are titled "Burn" and "Family."
I may also write a prologue to this chapter about Patel, from Nicole's perspective, titled "The Six"...but my ambitions are loftier than my available free time. Just ask "Fit Mom" and "Bets" fans :(
I look forward to your feedback, and seeing as this is the Loving Wives category, I'll enjoy your comments that utterly degrade me as a human being :)
Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this installment! More will be on the way.
--
It had been five days since I had last seen my wife.
One Saturday afternoon, weeks after she'd received the huge bank deposits, she turned to me while she wiped down the kitchen counter.
"I have to go work for Patel tomorrow."
I slowed a bit as I put away the dishes. I resumed my normal disposition and acted disinterested in what she said, in keeping with our little game.
"I'll be gone for a bit."
I closed the cabinet and walked to the other side of the kitchen and said: "Ok."
Continuing to be the "strong silent type" was getting more and more difficult. I still couldn't imagine what he wanted from her in exchange for such large sums of money. The rest of the day she seemed deeply relaxed and content, like she was at peace. Her face was at ease and her eyes were droopy, almost sleepy, with a small smile across her face. I remembered her wearing a blue camisole with jean shorts as he walked out the door. Days later, it pained me to know I didn't say a word to her as she left. I wasn't sure if she was going to run errands, walk to get the mail, or any of a number of things. I naively thought I would be invited along for whatever Patel had in store for her.
After the first few days, I panicked and checked the location of her phone through an app. The battery had died a day beforehand at an address inside an extremely wealthy gated community. I frantically dropped our daughter off at my mother's and drove to the location.
I was parked across the street beneath a glowing street light, peering into the windows of a massive mansion through a pair of binoculars I had fortunately kept in my trunk for watching baseball games from the cheap seats. The house was alight with activity and full of people, apparently having some kind of epic party. Young men and women, many in incredible shape and wearing expensive clothes, enjoyed drinks and conversation. Booming music came from a pool area where dozens of people danced and talked. I searched the windows until I was shocked to see my wife's face fall into view. If my description of events after this sounds bizarre or far-fetched, believe me, for my wife, or at least who she used to be, it was completely out of character. Nevertheless, I was punched in the gut with a new reality when I focused the lenses and watched her operate.
Except her panties, she was nude, and a hand of a man I couldn't see was fingering her under her panties as they spoke to one another. It was so shameless the way she stood brazenly in front of the huge window that aligned the top of the house, her full body on display to anyone on the street as she shared her thinly veiled pussy with a stranger. Their conversation was lively, and as I tried to steady the binoculars so I could get a better view, she threw her head back and laughed deeply. When she brought her head down, I could see her eyes droop and her mouth fall agape as he stimulated her towards an orgasm. It was apparent she was melting from his touch. Then, another man walked up, tall and muscular with a big smile, nude with a half erect and sizable cock. He grabbed both of her incredible breasts, squeezed hard, and pulled them tight away from her chest, causing her to wince. The man who was fingering her withdrew his hand and walked away, acquiescing to her new friend. She turned and, with a big smile, hugged him. They started to kiss each other with intent in long, passionate movements. Her hand found its way behind his head and she stroked his neck with affection.
I put the binoculars down and began to walk down the long boulevard. I had seen enough.
--
My adrenaline had left me in a daze. When I regained some composure, I was walking down my third or fourth hallway, surrounded by people I could only describe as "alternative." Garish tattoos, open nudity, pills taken in plain view, traces of cocaine on tables in open areas. At least three of the bedrooms I had walked past contained people, sometimes multiple people, engaging in sex acts. Loud, booming music was ambivalent. On the occasion one of the nihilists looked my way, they seemed bewildered that a suburban-looking dad like myself was in their midst.
I finally came to the area of the massive home where I believed my wife could be. It was a master bedroom, or one of the master bedrooms, with vaulted ceilings and ornate crown molding. There must have been two dozen people inside it, coalescing and talking over drinks and drugs. I pushed my way in and peered inside to see my wife beneath a hulking, heavy-set white man with a gold chain around his neck. He was pounding into her relentlessly as she wrapped his legs around him and dug her head into his shoulder. With people walking in front of my point of view, I struggled to see if he was wearing a condom. Inside of an hour, I had seen three men have intimate sexual contact with my wife. I was about to meet a fourth.
"Sup bro," asked a muscular hulking beast of a man standing before me. He was nude, covered in tattoos, and sported an unkept beard and a manbun. His eyes looked like faded glass and he held a small handheld bong of some kind. It didn't smell like the weed I remembered from college, but rather....burnt paper mixed with bleach. Something inside it was...illicit, to say the least.
"Hey," I said, trying to see my wife through the fray.
"Who you here with?" he asked. I shot him a confused look. "Everybody here is in the industry yo, invite only. Who do you know?"
When he mentioned the "industry", I looked to see two men in the corner with expensive looking cameras, filming not only my wife but the rest of the room.
"Uh, I'm with Patel," I said, saying the only name I knew that might past muster.
"Oh, sweet," he said, "He hangs out at Dugan's clubs a lot, funds a lot of tapes and scenes. Good dude. Looks like Dugan is having a good time," he said, motioning with his head towards my wife and her lover. Apparently Dugan was the owner of Patel's favorite strip clubs. A heavyset, balding strip club manager was chemically bonding with my wife.
"I actually just got done giving her a ride myself," he said, his glassy eyes indicating he was as high as a kite, "She takes it raw, and gets into it, like...genuine-style and shit. She must be new."
When I looked down, it was like my brain started to cry. His slowly shrinking cock was slicked and had this tiny, white bead of cum on the end of it. There was something disturbing on a deep level knowing the almost quaint bead of cum resting on the end of this clearly troubled man had been connected to a gob he deposited inside of Nicole. His hands, his drugged-out, hairy face, hovering over her...working into her. I felt myself getting feverish, almost panicked.
He walked away from me and I peered to see where he was heading. In the corner, Patel was clothed but jerking his erect cock through an opening in his fly as he watched Nicole pant like a dog in tune with an invading cock. I looked back as my wife started to wirth in an orgasm, succumbing totally to this greasy, awful "Dugan" who was pistoning in and out of her. When I looked back, Patel was looking straight at me with a blanked, angry expression. The man I had spoken to looked more than a little peeved that I had lied to him about being invited by Patel. Before I could be "bounced," I hurriedly left the room and made my way out of the house. It must have taken me at least twenty minutes to escape from its twisting hallways.
When I got back to my car, I peered at the same window I initially peered into when I arrived. I didn't see anything of interest. I drove home in a state of despondence and a quiet, private terror.
--
The entire next day was a daze. I had confirmed my wife was, in a sense, "safe," but I didn't feel she was my wife anymore. Hours upon hours, for days, all of those men...who was she? What had she become? How could she have ever agreed to this? Whatever our fantasy, swinger play, hotwifing...whatever we had done before...this was something else. This was just blatant cheating, and on a grandiose level. And did she expect me to just not react? To play this cool, to keep that fantasy going? Was she insane? We were so far past that madness...
Around five o'clock. I got an email from an anonymous sender with a video file attached to it. The subject was blank, the message read:
"first edit, some behind the scenes! u think you better than 'bad' men don't u, stupid pervert. u use me, i use u."
I could glean that this was clearly from Patel. Inferring that my wife, at some point, had informed him of why she was allowed to have her liaison, was a given. Patel was fucking pissed that we found him "inferior" and, man oh man, had he found a way to tear me down. Like a schmuck, I opened the file.
It began with a gorgeous, bright, well-shot 4k scene of a nice driveway. A car pulled up from a distance, and it took me a moment to recognize it as my wife's SUV. It was surreal to see her exit, wearing the same blue camisole and jean shorts she had worn the day she left our home. With a bright smile on her face, she walked up to Patel, who waited at the door for her, and they embraced in a hug. The cameraman followed them inside.
There was some "hey baby, how you been" talk and some light petting and longing looks between Nicole and Patel. As they talked and looked into each other eyes, I had a sneaking suspicion they shared something with gravitas beyond what I had seen the night of the swim party. I surmised it was the look a woman gives a man willing to give her a fortune for something sexual. The "Dugan" character walked up with two women and a man by his side, and had a hearty hug as well. He openly ogled my wife's breasts and made some lewd comment, to which my wife and the others in the room laughed. Everybody was just so...friendly.
"Listen, Nicole, so happy to have you here," Dugan said. He voice was hoarse like a chain smokers and his skin was blotchy and red, "Just so you get what we're trying to do, it's the whole 'origination' thing we talked about over the phone."
My wife nodded in agreement, "Uh huh,"
"Basically, here you are....fresh. Just fresh as a daisy," he said, smiling. Everyone laughed. "And we've been trying for a long time to, you know, get someone from a stable, good Christian background, someone who's been totally monogamous, Suzy Homemaker, all that bullshit...get her in the door and track her, six scenes a day for a week, so her fans can watch her become a superstar. Two releases a month that's...two or three years of storylines plus bonus footage, lots of hot sex for our fans, you know? So this is such a cool opportunity for you, for us, we're so excited that you're here."
She nodded, "I'm happy to be here."
