Yet another 750 word tale of destruction. If you feel strongly about needing more words, good news: there are plenty here on Literotica--do NOT read this. What happened afterward is too predictable to write about...
When Brenda didn't call me Thursday night, my spidey senses went from Defcon 4 to Defcon 3. I was uncomfortable about her going to Miami with a group from her company, but she assured me they'd be busy into the night each day, "and I'll be back Sunday to make up for lost time."
We'd been married five years, and getting ready for kids. From company socials, I knew the people she went with, three guys and another woman, all married. Safe, except the leader of the group, Hal Jefferson, a smarmy pussy hound. Selfish, I know, but my hope was his roving eyes and hands would target Mary Giles, the other woman. She was better looking and more flirty than Brenda. At 28, both of them were still young, but Mary, at 24, had bigger boobs, a tighter middle and a bigger smile.
Sitting on the patio and sipping my beer, I thought of the old joke of two guys running away from a pursuing bear. "I don't need to outrun the bear, I only need to outrun you." If Mary attracted Horny Hal's attention, Brenda (and I) would be safe. One can hope.
By nine, Brenda hadn't called. Bored and worried, I scrolled through Facebook. On a whim I checked Horny Hal's page. Wham! There it was. He'd posted a group photo they must have taken at the hotel pool. Everyone was wet in their bathing suits, hair plastered to their heads and laughing. The two girls were in front, both in teeny microbikinis. I had never seen Brenda in that one, a clichΓ© dental floss and triangle patch job. Horny Hal stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder and the other around her waist. One of the other guys held Mary the same way. As raunchy as the pose and (lack of) clothing was, the facial expressions were what got me. Not polite photo smiles, but unrestrained joy, possibly fueled by a drink or five.
Brenda had time to get dressed, drink, play around in the pool and have a photo taken, but neither the time nor inclination to call boring ole hubby. Leaning her head back into Horny Hal's body and laughing, with his arm around her waist, told the world she was having the time of her life. But the biggest thing was she didn't post the pic on her Facebook page. Nor was she tagged in the picture. Everyone else was. Call me paranoid, but that told me she didn't want anybody else to know she was there, like that, with him.
Fortunately, the internet that slams you with a body blow also offers solutions. I googled private investigators in Miami, and started calling. The fourth one had a live person answer. I outlined my situation. "Can you get some eyes and feet on the ground to record anything nefarious?"