Author's Note:
My stories are about swingers and usually told from Ted (husband's) first person POV. This story is told from another guy's point of view, but will again include my favorite characters, Ted and Jan.
If extra-marital fun and sharing offend you, skip this story. Or read on, and learn why some people might do it.
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Divorce
"After Audrey's lawyer notified Becky's government boss, the consulting firm fired Becky," Dennis said.
"Sorry buddy, but who didn't see that coming?" I said, with just a little sarcasm.
"Come on, Roger! You could at least sound sympathetic after all the years we've known each other," my friend said.
"But you and Becky were sharing a room with a single king bed three days per month at these conferences for the past year," I continued. "You can't BOTH submit travel expense vouchers for the full cost of that room."
"We could have gotten two separate rooms, then shacked up in just one," he exclaimed. "So, what's the difference? But they fired her! So, she won't be back here again. Now the bitch won't even take my calls to talk about getting together after Audrey's done with me in the divorce."
I just shook my head. Some people never learn. "I guess it was just bad luck that the hotel found Becky's vibrator and sent it to your home address on your registration."
"My wife saw that the package was from the hotel. After she opened it, she hired the private investigator," Dennis said, still not recognizing any wrong on his part. "Fortunately, I'm in the government employee union, so they can't fire me. So, I'll see you again next month as usual," Dennis said as he stood to go. "Thanks for the drink, and for listening."
"No, problem," I replied. "Let me know how it turns out, and good luck. And hey, when you see Audrey, tell her I said 'Hi!'" I added cheerfully.
Dennis glared at me before saying harshly "Fuck you!"
As he was about to turn to go catch his flight, he added "It's my turn to buy the drinks next time." Then he left me at the airport bar with another hour before I needed to go to the gate for my flight.
He was heading home after this conference to again face the music of his angry wife in their court-ordered counseling session. It was three months earlier when his wife received that package, and just a month later when her Private Investigator identified his girlfriend. The excuses sounded rather hollow as Dennis tried to convince me he was in a bad, almost sexless marriage. His wife was a stay-at-home mother, taking care of the house and their still young kids. So, I couldn't relate to his self-inflicted loneliness and misery. But I sat here commiserating with my old friend over his pending divorce, which brought back the memories of mine years ago.
I left the Army after fifteen years with an early medical retirement. The wounds weren't debilitating but caused enough long-term medical issues for them to discharge me.
Lisa and I then grew further apart over the next three years, as I moved from one job to another, and the youngest of the kids became a teenager. I know my previous military deployments were tough on my wife. But there was always an end in sight to those hardships, even if I had stayed for twenty years. The tensions between us oddly seemed to grow once I was discharged from the Army when I was sure to come home regularly from work every day.
After leaving the Army and eventually getting a steady office job, my wife also found her niche with her MBA degree in a new nine-to-five office job. But she chose to change her schedule by sleeping in later and working later every day. She left me to work AND handle the house chores, ensure the kids went to school, check on the kids after school, pay the bills, and make family dinners to ensure some type of homelife for our teenagers. The emotional distance between my wife and I separated us even further than my Army deployments.
When the kids were finally of an age when their high school activities and friends kept them busy in the evenings, I would leave work at five o'clock, and call my wife as I left my office, asking her to meet me for drinks or dinner out. And she would always cheerfully agree to meet me. But half the time, she would show up an hour late, and the other times she wouldn't show up at all before I would decide to head home instead of waiting any longer and getting drunk.
My drinking grew worse as our sex life dried up to no more than once a month, and even that was a grudging, unemotional act, which she made sure I knew was more than just an inconvenience to her.
During our family dinners at home, the kids and I would usually have some pleasant, lively talks, except for the rare times their mother came home from work by seven o'clock. Then my wife would sit down with us to eat and dominate the conversation with whatever was on her mind, showing no interest in our lives. And her discussions would often lead to disagreements with me, with the volume of her voice rising. If I complained about the noise level, she'd say, "I have to shout, so you can understand me!"
The years dragged by and after the last of our kids was out of the house and away at college, Lisa found even more reasons to avoid spending time with me. When I asked her to do something together on weekends such as going out to a winery or movie, she would make excuses. She would say she needed to go into her office. Or she would just disappear, staying away from the house for hours, then return saying she was just out running "errands".
So, I found a web site for 'Meetup Groups' to meet people outside of work as my only company in the evenings or weekends. A group of people would meet to go bowling, play golf, or just have dinner together at restaurants. But most of those people were divorced or separated. The divorced women, in particular, were always interested in hearing me explain why my wife wasn't there with me.
"She's working late, again," I would say.
"Are you sure she's in the office?" a divorcee might ask, with a hopeful hint in her voice of her replacing my wife.
On one Friday evening at eight o'clock, I was sitting in a restaurant meetup, talking to three women at my table when I was asked that question. So, I pulled out my cellphone and called my wife's office number, putting the phone on speaker to prove my wife was at her office. I asked Lisa to join the four of us, explaining I was sitting with three women listening to a nice dance band. Her indifferent response was "No, I have too much work here. I'll see you later."
After she hung up, one of the women pondered, "Don't you ever wonder who she's working with?"
That's when I decided it was over. I had no social life with my estranged wife, just an empty house and lonely evenings and weekends. That evening was the first time I left a meetup with another woman. When I returned home that night, alone at two o'clock in the morning, my wife still wasn't there. And this wasn't her first time "working" that late.
While in my mind our divorce seemed inevitable, I was still surprised with my wife's attitude toward the situation.
Lisa became angry when she realized I was staying out late, too. She asked me if I was having an affair, and I didn't lie to her.
"It's not an affair," I said. "But since you don't like sex with me, think of this as outsourcing."
In hindsight, I should have anticipated the explosion that followed. She acted as if a thief stole something from her! I was a piece of property some other woman was taking from her. I wasn't something she wanted, but the marriage license still made me her property.
By then, my indifference to Lisa's shouting rants was fine-tuned to perfection, and her latest rants fell on deaf ears. There was no particular "other woman" in my life, just my feeling that there was nothing left between us. With the kids grown and out of the house, I thought it was an obvious decision: split everything in half and go our separate ways.
Lisa, however, saw things differently. She hired a lawyer, and our divorce dragged out and was messy. But after enduring more than six months of her rants and her lawyer's demands every time we had to meet or exchange texts or e-mails, we eventually ended up as I expected: splitting everything in half and going our separate ways.
So, when Dennis described his circumstances, I wasn't surprised with his wife's reaction to another woman being involved. Dennis would probably be headed for a lonely life, particularly since his girlfriend was fired over their indiscretion ... and stupidity. And his future of alimony, child support, and visitation rights with young kids would interfere with any plans he might have for any other relationships.
I told Dennis this round of drinks was on me, so he left his half empty glass when he walked away to catch his flight.
Three minutes later, a woman stepped up to the crowded bar, standing to my left behind Dennis's now vacant seat. When she tried to catch the busy bartender's attention, I turned to her saying, "This seat's empty now."
The gorgeous, auburn-haired woman sat on the bar stool. She wore her slightly curled long hair pulled up in the back and held by a hair clip, leaving most of it hanging down in the back between her shoulders. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement, as if she's always having fun. She was dressed in an attractive knee-length skirt, silk blouse, and wore four-inch heels. I could smell the slight hint of orange from her subtle perfume.
"I'll have Courvoisier and a glass of water," she told the bartender.
"And I'll have another Captain and coke," I said, pointing to my almost empty glass.
She turned in the seat to face me, crossing her legs in a seductive pose, and running one hand down her shapely leg, asking "Isn't your wife coming back?"
I held out my left hand showing her the empty ring finger. "I'm not married."
"A missing wedding ring is no indicator," she replied, as the bartender set the two glasses near her. "I learned that lesson a long time ago." And she reached for the cognac, cupping the rounded bottom of the glass in her hand.
"True," I admitted, and I picked up my glass to finish that drink as the bartender set a fresh glass in front of me. "But I am divorced. ... I see you're wearing a wedding ring. Are you really married? Or is that to fend off predators?"
"Oh, I don't need a ring to ruin a predator's day," she replied confidently, then sipped the cognac. "But I've been happily married for thirty years. By the way, my name's Jan."
"I'm Roger," I said. "I was sort of contentedly married for about ten years. But the subsequent fourteen years of it were like crap. Since then, it's gotten much better."
"Why would you stay married for so long, if it was that bad?" she asked.
"We had kids, and I'm not the type to let my kids grow up without a father."
