If you do not like stories of temptation, human frailty, and redemption, please do not read this story. You will not enjoy it. But, if you take solace that there are husbands who fight to save their marriages I bid thee read on.
Today's story comes from southeastern Wisconsin. As always, I am a mere scribe, presenting a story which was told to me by those who lived it. They swear their story is true. I will leave that to the reader to decide. All names and places have been changed.
Constructive criticism is always welcome. Ad hominem attacks will, of course, be deleted.
If you enjoy this missive I encourage you to read my earlier works. Thank you.
*****
Friday morning, make that casual Friday morning, my wife Becky dressed to the nines; a knee length red dress with sheer black pantyhose. A pair of high heels completed the ensemble.
"Damn, you look incredible." I feigned ignorance when I asked, "What are you all dolled up for?"
"Nothing special, I just felt like dressing up."
Now you have to know my wife to know how truly bizarre that statement was. This was a woman who lived for denim. Monday through Thursday she had to wear nice clothes to work but on Friday her uniform was designer jeans tucked into a pair of black leather boots with a blouse or sweater. Never in the five years we were married did it vary. And she certainly did not dress this nice Monday through Thursday.
"If you're going to dress this fine I'm taking you out dancing tonight. I'll make dinner reservations for six."
"Okay." That's all she said; okay. Not where. Just okay.
I wanted to press the issue but had to make a business call to the east coast before I left for the office. I will admit my mind was distracted by how hot my wife looked...knowing why bothered me even more.
She gave me a cursory kiss before leaving for work.
Becky was one of twelve Tech Assistants at a major automotive tool supplier. Their job was to be a liaison between the forty plus sales reps and the warehouse, entering their orders into the system and sending confirmation e-mails to the customers.
For the last few weeks Becky had been acting a little strange. Nothing big but rather a slew of little things. The one that really stood out was she kept mentioning one of the new sales reps, Vince Davis. She often came home frustrated by how clueless some of the reps were but it seemed every day she had some amusing anecdote about Vince. He could do no wrong.
This grabbed my attention and I decided to do a little detective work. Becky always sleeps in on Saturdays; I got up at my usual six AM, poured a cup of coffee, and began reading her e-mails. Most of them were dribble, of no interest to anyone. Undaunted, I kept looking and struck pay dirt when I checked the trash. My wife had dutifully deleted each e-mail from Vince as well as her responses but never bothered to empty the trash can.
I copied everything they exchanged on a thumb drive for safe keeping then started reading them. I found it odd he would be sending business messages to her personal account but their tone soon changed to flirtatious. Then they got very personal with him commenting on what she wore and speculating on what kind of lingerie was under it. Becky responded like a love sick fourteen year old girl, teasing him right back. I found it very difficult to control my rage as the electronic messages approached the present date. He cranked up the bullshit and she ate it up.
I almost smashed her laptop when I read how the bastard shifted to high weasel and tried talking her into going commando to work. When she said she only did that for her husband he whined like a sick puppy trying to get her to agree to at least wear a shear pair of panties to work. I smiled when she shut him down.
That didn't stop him. The next night he tried to talk her into sending a naked selfie but thankfully she turned him down flat. But it was obvious he was comfortable enough to escalate his virtual seduction.
I was tempted to confront her the moment she woke up but realized I needed to cool off or I might kill her. I left a note on the table that I had some errands to run. I conveniently forgot my cell phone on the counter. I spent a lot of time talking to myself, trying to decide my next move. It was dark when I returned. Becky threw her arms around me and said she was worried something happened to me.
"I called your mom and your friends but nobody had seen you. Where were you? Why didn't you call?"
I bit my tongue and didn't say what my mind was screaming. Instead I said, "I had a lot to think about."
On Sunday Becky surprised me with wake up sex. She was an absolute vixen in bed; knowing what she was hiding sucked all the romance out of her performance. She noticed my lack of enthusiasm and asked, "Are you feeling alright?" I ignored her question and avoided her the rest of my day.
On Monday morning I checked her trash can again and found over two dozen messages exchanged while she was so worried about me. There wasn't a single message to anyone asking if they had seen her wayward husband.
They averaged a couple of messages a day for the rest of the week. The weasel was worming his way deep into her mind.
Then, in the immortal words of Alice in Wonderland, things got curiouser and curiouser. On Friday evening Davis announced he had saved Becky's job. I read with great curiosity his claim to have found an error in pricing a nationwide contract so big that she would have been fired for sure.
That sounded like a crock as Becky was a mathematical genius who balanced our checkbook every month without even using a calculator.
When I read his next message I knew he was setting her up. He kept reminding Becky that she said she owed him big time. For his big time reward he wanted to take her someplace special for a lunch date, just the two of them. He used several double entendres to make it clear what he expected to nibble on.
Becky seemed oblivious to what he was saying.
The last message was dated Wednesday. He reminded her he took a big risk covering her error and he would probably lose his job if his supervisor learned what he had done.
Becky wanted him to assure her it was just two friends going to lunch together. His reply got my blood boiling, "Yeah, just two friends...who are going to become much closer friends."
Then he gave specific instructions on what she was to wear to their private lunch date.
When I saw what she was wearing that morning I knew I had to move fast to save my marriage.
Becky had lunch every day from 11:30-12:30. At 11:25 I showed up unannounced to take my wife to lunch. I got the strangest looks from several of the women I passed, as though they shared a dirty secret.
When I presented myself at Becky's work station she damn near screamed, "What are you doing here!" This drew even more attention.
"Do I need a reason for taking my beautiful wife on a lunch date?"
Becky's eyes opened wide as she stammered, "Uh, I can't. Did you forget we're going out to dinner tonight...besides I'm going to lunch with Mary Beth and Irene." Both gave her a look which I interpreted as don't suck me into your cess pool.
Irene spoke first, "Girl, ain't nothin' more important than you going to lunch with your husband."
Mary Beth shook her head, "You know I always bring my lunch."
"Looks like you're stuck with me." I gave my best Cheshire cat grin.
Becky looked as nervous as a whore in church as I extended my hand to her. Just then a smarmy looking man in a cheap suit strode in. He was a typical sleazy salesman, always on and full of shit. He started to say, "Who's ready to go to..." but didn't finish the sentence.
He froze when he saw me holding my wife's hand. I could hear the other Tech Assistants giggling behind me. I was glad I wore my brand new tailored suit. I looked like success; he looked like a used car salesman.
"Uh Alex, this is Vince Davis." He extended his hand. I ignored it and said, "My wife and I will be back in one hour." He just stood there shifting his weight from foot to foot and looking stupid before finally asking one of the ladies a lame question regarding an out of stock item.
I had taken the liberty of stopping at a deli and had a very nice lunch waiting in my car. I spread it out on one of the picnic tables the company provided. Becky was talking a mile a minute about work but somehow never mentioned Davis. So I did.
"If I didn't know better I would have thought that pompous ass was under the impression he was taking you to lunch."
Becky started choking on her roast beef sandwich. I handed her something to drink and asked, "Honey, is there something you want to tell me?"
Her silence lasted for well over a minute. She didn't look me in the eye when she finally began speaking. "I really screwed up a big order. I priced the product so low I probably would have been fired. Vince caught the error and corrected it. I told him I owed him big time. It's just an expression people say all the time."
"Vince said he wanted to go on a lunch date to repay him for saving my job."
"So this morning when you said, 'I just felt like dressing up' you weren't being truthful with me."
"Uhhh, well he said he wanted me to look nice."
"You let that piece of shit tell you what to wear!"
"It's, I mean, he like asked...well...uh...yeah, I guess he told me to wear a red dress."
"You do know every woman you work with thinks you're having an affair with him."
Becky screamed, "Who told you that!"
"I could see it on their faces as I walked by."
"I...I...I..." she stammered.
"Let me guess, he's been hovering around you, bringing you coffee, telling jokes."
"No, I mean yes. I mean he was just being friendly."
"Friendly? Did he bring coffee for any of the other eleven women who do the same exact job for him as you?"
