Mission Impossible 2

Well, today is the day I start my revenge, I had found out a month ago that my wife has a fuck buddy and I am not happy about it, I mean, who would be? Her buddy is a rich prick called Richard, Richardson, does that make him a double, maybe triple dick, or just a complete dick, don't know and I don't care, all I do know is I have discovered for the first time in fifty two years what hate feels like.

I suppose it doesn't really matter how I found out, only that I did, but if you're interested, I had nipped out to one of our suppliers to fetch a component I need to fix the control system for one of the machines at work and on the way back I thought I saw her pass a road I was queueing to get out of. It looked like she was going home, that was odd, because it hadn't been five minutes since I had rang her to find out if she wanted me to grab something from a shop on the way home tonight and she had told me she was at home.

So I headed for home wondering why she had lied to me, well, you would, wouldn't you?

When I get home her car is sitting right where it had been when I left that morning, as I walked to the door I could hear the fan in the bathroom going and water running down the soil pipe, no doubt in my mind she was having a shower, the big question in my mind was, why?

I had thought of several reasons as to why she had lied to me in the first place and not one was what it was beginning to look like. Even then I was thinking she had gotten something on her that she needed to get off her, well as it turned out, it was, just not what I would have thought.

I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I must have expected to find something I didn't want, because I crept in as quietly as I could. I crept into the bathroom and as I expected she was in the shower, her clothes just piled up on the floor. There on top, her knickers, with a big wet glob of what was obviously spunk.

I really don't know how I restrained myself from grabbing hold of her and beating the bastards name out of her before throwing her out, but I didn't, shock maybe. But somehow I just quietly turned around and went back to work.

I replaced the component and was just about to throw the power switch when I heard someone shout "Whoa,"

It makes me jump, but more importantly, it stops me from throwing the switch, I look for the source even though I know exactly who it is. It is the other Colin that works here, he is one of the higher ups, we call him Pooch.

"What the fuck are you doing Mac? You don't usually make mistakes like that."

"What?" I ask and realise I haven't adjusted the component to do the job it is supposed to do. If I had thrown the switch it would have blown the drive unit which would cost thousands to replace and even more in machine downtime."

"Fucking hell, thanks Pooch you saved me from making a major balls up there."

"What's wrong Mac? Something bothering you?"

"Nothing mate, just a bit distracted that's all."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." I can see him looking at me and I can see he doesn't believe me.

"Well leave that for a bit, come with me."

"Uhh, I'll..."

"No Mac, come with me."

"It's not often he takes that tone with anyone and the way he is walking away I know the best thing I can do right now is to follow him, so I lock my tools away, pick up the laptop that I should have used to calibrate the unit and follow him.

He leads me not to his office, which is open to be viewed from all sides, upstairs to a room that is generally used for closed meetings. He goes in and turning to me he pulls out a chair and sits, gesturing that I do the same.

"I saw you come back and could see that you suddenly had a problem. When you left you were your normal happy self, sharing a few words with everybody you passed. When you came back you didn't speak to anybody, in fact you looked like if someone said the wrong thing you'd deck them. Now I know sometimes B&J can be dicks but..."

I couldn't help it, I don't think I've shed a tear since I was ten, but that was it, I started crying like a child. I didn't say anything just I sat there bawling my eyes out. Pooch said nothing either, he just waited for me to compose myself.

Don't ask me how long I sat there all I know is when I managed to get myself under control he was sitting there holding out a tissue to me. Feeling embarrassed I take it and apologise for my pathetic display.

"Mac, don't worry about it. I know it isn't something you'd normally do, trust me, it won't go any further, so... tell me about it."

The tears start again and I let it all out, seeing her, following her and what I found. What he said next surprised me, I mean I know some of the story but not the emotions he went through and he admitted, almost with pride that when he became suspicious and started looking into his wife's activities, he too had cried.

We talked for over an hour until I was able to go back on the shop floor, before we left the room we agreed that we had never had that conversation. I had the machine ready to go in less than fifteen minutes.

The conversation that didn't happen had left me with a lot of things to think of and a lot of questions that needed to be answered, the first one being could I get over it if she stopped.

I didn't confront her, in fact I haven't yet done so. That first week, I don't know how, but I managed to carry on much as normal, I did spend more time than usual in my workshop when I was at home. Elaine did notice that I was what can you say, more than a bit out of sorts, but I explained away by telling her BTK was thinking about buying a new co-extruder and I was the one having to assess which to buy.

A few days after my discovery Pooch took me to one side and gave me a piece of paper, saying quietly, "I didn't give you this," on it was written a name and address, I didn't need any more details to know to whom it belonged.

To say I was unsure of what I should do, or be doing, is a gross understatement, but I was definitely thinking of causing at least one of them some pain in some way and I knew that whatever I did, if I chose not to follow legal options, I would need to maintain deniability to protect myself.

I have owned bicycles since I was a boy and I still do. If the weather is good enough and I do not have to carry anything heavy or bulky either to or from work I will often cycle, this means if I have to run errands as I did that Monday, I would use one of the firms vehicles and so the day after getting the address, I took an old unliveried van out and found his house, fortuitous for me, his house sits behind an area of woodland, known locally as Fogles wood that almost surrounds his property on three sides.

The following day, a Saturday, I take Elaine to the railway station. After dropping her off I go home and go out cycling, taking a pair of binoculars with me. I rode out and stashed my bike off the road, out of sight in the woods and negotiated my way through the trees.

The house, is isolated and fairly old, I guess it's probably two to three hundred years, not that it matters. I suppose, in some masochistic sense I was enjoying the intrigue of sneaking around and spying, but the reality of why I was there slapped me in the face when he rolls up in a fairly new Jag and I see the passenger. It is my wife, stupid me thought she was shopping in Cambridge.

Seeing her get out and all but run around the car to embrace him I think is the most hurtful thing I have seen her do, it was something she used to do often, especially if we had been apart for a couple of days and she was excited for what was coming next, which meant me and her.

I didn't need to see any more, I wouldn't have seen much anyway, I could hardly seen anything through the tears flowing from me. I stumbled through the trees back to my bike, feeling nothing but pain.

Riding back home, the pain found a companion, a need to make her feel that pain, but from what I have just seen, loss of me would not give her much concern. Certainly nowhere near the pain I was feeling.

The following couple weeks I spent almost all of my time either out cycling or at home in my workshop, mostly just staying away from her but also plotting how I could cause her the most pain without physically hurting her and finding out about him.

When I did my apprenticeship, my job was mostly mechanical, replacing, or fitting new parts, that's why we were called fitters. Now electronics play a big part of my job and I have the grand title of engineer, of course I had to go on more than a few courses to keep up to date with the electrical control systems and stuff, this knowledge was about to become useful.

In Britain you can, if properly licenced, legally own a gun. Whereas tasers are completely illegal, but if you have the know how, building one is not difficult, so I did. I also spent a few quid getting a couple of props, namely a black curly wig and an overcoat I bought from a charity shop and a couple of rolls of pallet wrap I nicked from work (industrial stretch film) I also called a flower shop to arranged for a particular bunch of flowers to be delivered on the Wednesday, at seven in the evening. I think about having the bunch contain one less than the years we have been married but think that will be too much of a clue if the police get involved, to be honest I think having Dahlias delivered is a big clue, especially as I want them to add a particular scent, but I am certain there is no way of knowing that I know Dahlias are the traitors flower, or why I coincidently had asked for that particular scent to be added. She doesn't and she'll probably think they're chrysanthemums anyway, but I think the scent will hit home.

On my bike ride the day before I was going to start making waves, I took two envelopes over to her parents, asking them that if she turned up on the Monday evening, to feed her and then give her the note the one marked Monday and to give her the other on the Tuesday. If she didn't turn up until the Tuesday, not to bother giving her the Monday note. I was feeling guilty for using them like this, but if all goes the way I would like, they will know nothing about what I intend to be my final objective. It is they, not me that suggest giving her one of her favourite meals if she comes over on Monday. They tell me they could pop out without telling her, pointing out that if left alone in the house she will search for Tuesday's note and they suggest I write another telling her not to try to get clues early and to come back only when she is supposed to. They supply me with an envelope, paper and pen and I write the note.

My, surveillance, if you want to call it that, makes me fairly certain that he is working from home, I know after Covid, more people are doing that, than did before Covid. Also making me aware he seems to have few visitors other than my wife. No other women and no friends or family. All the time I spent watching I only saw one other vehicle and that was a delivery from one of the local supermarkets. The couple more times I see my wife there, he brought her. It seems the only fear of observance I need to consider, is if he has any surveillance cameras. It is obvious he has no official camera system, if he did and wanted them to matter he would have to display warnings to inform people, so all I have to worry about is if he has fitted his own, outside or in.

The few times I am sure she is there during the week, she met him probably about half ten and returning about two. I know this because her phone was either off, or she had temporarily turned off the GPS.

I give her half an hour to get gone and then pop home. I put some solid red watercolour paint blocks in the shower head. They should make the water blood red, but I think shouldn't stain. For the next step, I leave an old cassette recorder that I had added a surprise to, for her to find. I wrap it in the towel I know she will have to use after her shower surprise. For the following step, I slip an envelope with a message under the bed in the spare room.

88888888888888

Arriving home I dash up to the shower, I strip off and turning it on, I dive in. With my eyes closed, I reach for the shower gel, lather up and begin washing.

Oooohhhh it feels good to wash off the sweat and spunk I got from my from my regular Monday lunch time session with Dick.

I giggle to myself, most people call Richard, Dick, but not for the same reason I do. God just thinking about him makes me so hot. I reach down and touch myself, smiling at the freshly waxed feel, I move to my clit, my lips and wash away the residue from Dicks Dick, letting the water wash over me, over my face, I turn and let the water cascade over my neck and back and open my eyes.

I scream, the water running into the drain is running red, a deep dark blood red, still screaming I turn the water off and check myself.

Finding nothing amiss I turn the water back on and it immediately turns red and I realise the red isn't my blood, the water is coming out of the shower head red. I jump out of the shower cursing my husband and grab a towel and press it to my face to dry it, so I can see without water running into my eyes. I pull the towel away and am rewarded with a red imprint of my face on the towel, I look to the shower and the water is still running red. I stop the shower and unscrew the head, I find what looks like red blocks that look like they have come from a watercolour paintbox.

"I'll fucking kill him," I say aloud to nobody. I remove the packs, screw the head back on and resume my shower, this time with clear untainted water. "The bastard, how could he do this to me?"

When I am done, I reach for another towel from the rail and realise there isn't one, so naked, I have to go to the cupboard on the landing to get a clean towel. I find an old cassette recorder wrapped in it, not even giving it a second thought, still cursing, I dry myself.

After dressing, in my anger, not even realising I had picked up the player, I go downstairs and make a pot of tea. I pour a cup and go into the front room and notice there, on the cassette player is a note stuck to it, on the note is two words, "PLAY ME."

Puzzled, I press the button, and the theme tune from some old American telly programme starts to play and then it cuts in with hubby's voice.

"As you know, Friday is April fool's day, so I thought this year, as I have to be in Lancaster this week, to help you not get too bored and lonely, we can make a week of it. Your assignment is to solve the clues and collect the information provided to know where you need to be Friday evening, is this mission possible? The first clue can be found where we first made love in this house... This message will self destruct in five seconds...."

Still puzzled I reach for the player, thinking I need to listen again when a small flame and smoke appears from the cassette, I jump back and reaching for my cup empty it over the smouldering plastic extinguishing the flame. I pull the cassette from the player to inspect it and find the tape is just a shrivelled mess.

"I suppose you think you are funny mister, well we'll see how funny you find it when there's no nookie when you get home," Again I speak aloud, even though there is no-one to hear me.

Angrily, I clean up the mess he made me make, and throw the old machine in the bin before pouring myself another cuppa. I sit down and I am fuming, I am determined I will not be playing his stupid game.

As angry and determined as I am not to get involved with his stupid game, I can't help but remember the day we moved in. As soon as our friends left, we started snogging by the front door, and then with just a look we ran upstairs into our room, threw the mattress on the floor and we made love... I smile as I correct myself, we didn't make love, we fucked with lust filled abandon, then he dragged the mattress into the guest room and there, we did make love.

Oooh those were the days, just setting out together, just him and me, united and prepared to take on the world. A fleeting flash of guilt flows through me as Dicks Dick jumps into my mind.

Although I am still annoyed I catch myself beginning to wonder which room he has hidden the clue and try to put it out of my mind..

Finishing my tea, I head back into the kitchen supposedly to start making preparations for my evening meal. I get a pork chop out , but he has managed to pique my curiosity, and even though I don't want to do it, I know I'm not going to be happy until I know what he has left for me. I had not noticed anything obvious in our room when I dressed, so I go up to the spare room.

I do a quick scan and nothing jumps out at me. I look in the wardrobe, all the drawers in the chest and the bedside cabinets, nothing.

I continue my search. I know that even if I have not liked the two jokes he has already played, he is good-natured and although he may go a little too far some times, all his jokes are made without malice.

It takes me a while, but eventually I find a note.

Lainey here's a little rhyme

with a little clue

Where were we that first time

together, we said I love you?

I smile as I remember that day, he had taken me to Cambridge, we saw that bridge, I know you tried to explain to me why it was special, but I didn't understand, the only thing I remember about it is that apple bloke, wassisname, yes Isaac Newton who designed it.

I had wanted something to eat, I still don't know how you arranged it, but instead of a hot dog you took me punting on the Cam and there waiting for us, was a hamper for a picnic and I managed to slip, nearly falling in the river, in the process I kicked it overboard. He surprised me, he didn't get angry, he just made sure I hadn't hurt myself, laughed and held me. I feel smile my getting broader as the memory continues.

Even though, he hadn't quite done two years of his apprenticeship and he didn't have much money, he didn't complain and we cut the afternoon short so I could get something to eat. We went to the market and we found a stall selling strange meats, we shared a crocodile burger, it was sort of chickenish in taste, but fatty like pork. I smile remembering Daniel Jackson in Stargate trying to explain a chicken to a boy. Then we went for a walk and we found that church, what was it? Saint, saint... Mary's, yes that was it, it was incredible, we could see most of the city from the spire. Then he took me for a meal, it was an Indian, a new experience for me at the time, it was the start of my love of Asian food. Afterwards we caught a bus to the station to catch a train home and when we got back to Emmingford he walked me home. We kissed and talked on the doorstep for ages, that was then I told him how I felt and he grabbed me tightly and spun me round and shouted, "I love you too," and my dad opened the door and he said, "that's all very well, but can you do it quietly," god we were so embarrassed. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and made a hasty retreat. Ha ha, mum and dad have taken the piss out of him for that ever since for that.

We were so much in love back then, every little thing he did was for me, I think it still is, I suddenly feel guilty, I have never been able to match his loving ways, even this silly treasure hunt is special. It isn't that I don't want to, I do, but my mind doesn't seem to work that way, I never seem to be able to give him that special thing, and whenever I do think of anything, I tend to overthink it and fuck it up.

I look at the clock and decide it has to be there, so I pop over to mum and dads to see the next clue.

I arrive just before five, mum is cooking tea and dad is out in his shed. As soon as I walk in mum invites me to stay for tea, I accept, knowing that I can stick the chop in the fridge when I get home and have it tomorrow.