My Cheating Husband

My friend, Susan, is fidgeting as she drinks her coffee at my kitchen table. She called this morning right at eight and said she had to speak to me in private as soon as possible. I replied a little uncertainly, "Sure, come on over anytime this morning." Susan arrived twenty minutes later.

Susan put down her coffee cup and made a face. "There is no easy way to do this, Ashley. I won't try to sugar coat it. Your husband Harold is having an affair with Jean."

That is certainly starting my day off with a slap in the face. Harold and I have been married three years now. I am 30 and he is 42. I am a moderately successful novelist and work from home. Harold owns two-thirds of a car dealership and was supposed to be at a car show in Dallas all this week.

Jean and I have been 'best friends forever' since high school, and she is married to Harold's partner, Bill. Bill owns the other third of their very successful car dealership. The four of us often get together socially and see a lot of one another.

I blew out a breath. "Okay," I drew that out as my thoughts reeled in confusion. "That is not what I was expecting to hear this morning. Maybe you should give me some specifics."

"Oh, Honey, I hate to do this to you, but avoiding the facts doesn't do you any good."

I just nodded for her to continue.

Susan took a deep breadth and plunged into the story. "My husband's fraternity brother and his wife were driving from their home in Lexington to New Orleans for a convention. They stopped last night at the Embassy Suites out by the interstate to spend the night. We met them for dinner at that nice new steak house that opened in the hotel. We were having a grand time drinking, eating, and catching up.

"I guess it was about 6:30 when I looked out and saw Harold sit down at the bar and order a drink. I didn't think anything of it until I saw Jean arrive and join Harold maybe ten minutes later."

Susan glanced up at me to see how I was taking the news.

I was in a turmoil inside but stayed icy cool on the exterior. "Go on."

"Well Honey, Jean's hello kiss looked like she was trying to lick Harold's adenoids, right there in public. She ordered a drink, and they sat there giggling and pawing each other like a pair of dogs in heat."

A deep and abiding fury was growing inside me as I processed my husband and best friend's betrayal.

Susan gave a little laugh. "Well, you know me, the town busybody and gossip. When they finished their drinks, they left - and I, of course, excused myself from the table and discretely followed them out. They went hand-in-hand to the elevator. I watched from the open-air atrium as they went to the fifth floor and then went inside room 516."

I gave a snort. "If that doesn't beat all. My husband scorching the sheets with my best friend. But then again, I guess it's a tawdry, old tale."

Susan had a concerned look on her face. "Ashley, don't do anything rash. A lot of marriages survive an affair. Marriage counseling can do wonders."

"Do tell," was my noncommittal answer.

Susan gave a tentative small smile, "You know men. Their peckers are bigger than their brains and get them in trouble. Harold may just be having a midlife crisis or something."

I replied coldly, "That could be, but if you spit in my face, you are going to have a hard time convincing me you just meant to wash it."

I thanked Susan for her information, and she went on her way. I needed time to think this through.

I'd like to castrate my bastard of a husband but suspect the police would take a dim view of that. I need a plan to cut him to the quick, and then I want to rub salt slowly into it so the pain is excruciating and lasts 'til hell freezes over.

I am a petite five-foot-two Southern country gal with fiery red hair. As they say, 'hell hath no fury like a scorned woman' - especially a red haired, Southern one. Po' ol' Harold is in a heap of trouble and hasn't got a clue - yet.

It really pisses me off that Harold called last night about eight for a nice spousal chat, no doubt fondling my friend's breasts while he and I talked intimately. Ever since high school that damn Jean's breasts have always been magnificent, much better than mine. That just pisses me off even more.

It's almost nine o'clock on Tuesday morning. Harold is due home from the 'Dallas car show' at 8:00 pm Friday. It's going to be a busy week so I better get cracking.

My older brother, Bob, is a cracker jack divorce lawyer so I gave him a call. His secretary, who I have known for years, said she'd get him for me right away after I explained the situation.

A few minutes later, Bob came on the phone, "Hey Sis, what's up. The secretary just handed me a note saying 'get off the damn phone and talk to your sister.""

I laughed, "I am going to take that gal to lunch next week; she's a gem. Well, Harold is shacked up with Jean at the Embassy Suites. You never liked that son-of-a-bitch. Guess you were right."

"Ah Jeez, not Jean. She's your best friend."

"Yep, ain't that a classic story."

Bob let out a sigh. "I am sorry, Sis. What do you want to do?"

"I'd like to fry his gonads in oil, but since that is probably illegal, I want to take him to the cleaners and then some."

"Ok. I have client coming in for a meeting in about 15 minutes. Let's meet at Molly's Café for a late lunch at one, and I will have worked up some basic plans to choose from. If you nail him for adultery in this state, you can have a field day."

"That is just what I want."

"I'll get Jim on this as soon as we hang up. You've met him several times over at our place. He's very good."

Jim is my brother's best friend dating back to their army days in Afghanistan. Today, he is a very successful private investigator doing a lot of adultery-based surveillance. With on the order of half the marriages having a cheating spouse at one point or the other, the PI field is certainly a growth industry. Jim says he doesn't do anything to anybody - they do it to themselves

I replied, "Sure, I know Jim well. He got his nerve up to ask me out once, but I was already dating Harold seriously then."

"Really? Maybe that will give Jim incentive to make sure we get the evidence to make you a free woman again. What is the status of Harold and Jean now?"

"Anne spotted them at the Embassy Suites last night and told me this morning. Room 516. Harold is supposed to be in Dallas all week so I expect they may stay ensconced in their love nest for a few days, maybe even all week.

I mused, "I wonder what tale Jean is spinning for her husband? Bill has blinders on when it comes to Jean so she can spin some silly yarn to be gone for a few nights that he'll buy. Poor credulous man. The innocent ones are always the last to know."

Bob agreed, "True. I will pass all the info on to Jim. Has Harold or Jean had affairs before that you know of?"

"Harold? Not to my knowledge, but who knows. Jean has had at least one fling since marrying Bill. That was a torrid affair last year that ran through the start of this year. It was with a trainer named Frank at our gym. Frank is quite a male specimen. I was even tempted myself, but I kept my dalliance with Frank safely in my fantasies."

Bob laughed, "Probably prudent you did at this point. I am going to have to run. Need to talk with Jim and get him started and meet with my client.

"You know the money drill. Move everything to your name, cancel credit cards, put jewelry and other valuables in a safety deposit box, and make copies of all of your financial records for me."

"Will do. I have the manuscript for my new novel at the publishers. My editor says it is easily my best work yet, and she expects the royalties to crack six figures. I will tell her to put it in the file drawer until the dust settles here. She had a nasty divorce last year and will understand."

"Great news on the novel, Sis. Good idea to put it on hold right now. See you at lunch. Bye."

I'll make a point to be extra sweet to Harold when he calls for our evening spousal chats as he feels up my best friend. Don't want him guessing I am onto his game.

Friday Evening

Harold arrived home right on time Friday night. As he came in the door, the first thing he saw was me draped naked over the back of the couch as that hunka-hunka Frank from the gym fucked me from behind. He dropped his luggage with a crash and his face turned scarlet as he took several steps toward us. "What the hell is the meaning of this?" he roared.

I looked up at him smiling sweetly. "Hi, Honey, ... Ungh, ungh, Oh Frank! ... Harold Dear, this is called a revenge fuck, ... Oh my God, oh, oh, ... I know about you and Jean ... Jeez don't stop, Frank."

I was loving the shocked look on Harold's face. I panted out, "Look in the manila envelope on the table, Dear, ... Ungh, ungh, fuck me, Frank, fuck me." I finished with a passionate screech as I orgasmed under Frank's Olympic-quality effort.

Frank and I collapsed panting onto the couch. Harold had pulled the photographs out of the envelope and was scanning quickly through them as his face turned almost purple in fury. It was a nice collection showing him and Jean at the Embassy Suites.

The PI, Jim, had been in Army intelligence and was good with technology. As soon as Bob called him Tuesday morning, Jim rented room 517 next to the two cheating spouses. A $100 to the maid got him into Harold and Jean's room when they went to a late lunch. That was when Jim planted the microphones and cameras that sent signals directly to him next door. The manilla envelope had a small selection of what we had, but it showed Jean and Harold in very steamy, compromising positions. Harold left Thursday morning for Dallas where he was supposed to be, and Jean returned back home to her husband.

Jim also came over to my house and went through Harold's computer with a fine toothed comb. Harold had tried to hide and encrypt everything, but his efforts were too amateurish to standup to Jim's skills. Soon Jim had a collection of emails, credit card charges, and phone records. These of course were all different from the email account, credit cards, and cell phone with which I was familiar. By Friday evening we had a ton of data; only a small fraction of which was in the manilla envelope. My, my, how much I learned about my husband and my lifelong girlfriend!

Harold threw the pictures on the floor. He was beyond rage; he spluttered, "How the hell did you get these. This is outrageous. I don't have to stand for this!"

Harold spun on his heel and stomped toward the door. Oh, I love to see a man get what he deserves.

"Oh yes, you do, Dear. Walk out that door, and my brother will file for my divorce for cause on the grounds of adultery at eight am Monday morning. I will own the house and half of your car dealership, not to mention that generous alimony you will pay in this state."

Harold spun back around and hissed, "Bitch." His face was splotched and his eyes narrowed with fury. I was glad for Frank's muscular protective presence next to me.

I smiled sweetly as I kissed Frank's chest and said, "How true. And you can't do a thing to stop me, can you?"

I had him by the short hairs. He was facing financial ruin if I divorced him for cause, and he knew it. For the last fifteen years, Harold had lavished all of his time, effort, and money on building that car dealership, making it the most successful one in the state. Two years before we married, he had risked everything to buy out the third partner in the car business.

Harold was a superb businessman, and the car dealership had prospered. But Harold was highly leveraged, and if I scooped up too many resources, he would go under like a rock. Bill, Jean's husband and one-third partner in the business, was a disaster as a businessman. He was just a happy-go-lucky, glad-handing car salesman. Harold's whole being was wrapped up in the success of his car dealership.

Harold caved and blew out a big breath. "Okay, you are right. I deserve the payback. I am sorry."

I slipped down to the floor between Frank's legs watching Harold fidget. "Be a dear and fix us all a drink. Our glasses are on the bar. We are having that 16-year old bourbon on the rocks. You know the one you were saving for a special occasion. I think this qualifies."

When Harold returned with our drinks I waved for him to place them on the end table. I couldn't speak as I had Frank's dick all the way in my mouth. Poor Frank was groaning and twisting under my ministrations. Harold collapsed in a chair across the room with his drink. I caught his eye and kept eye contact as I worked Frank into a frenzy.

I finally had mercy on Frank and pushed him down on the couch. As I mounted him, I smiled at Harold and said, 'Dear, I wish I had known you were cheating on me sooner. Bless my heart, this is fun!"

Frank was a well endowed male specimen, and as he entered me, I gave an involuntary groan of pleasure. I kept eye contact with Harold, as Frank and I began a steady pleasurable rhythm. "Harold, how many times did you fuck my best friend, Jean?"

Harold had been watching me almost mesmerized, and this brought him out of his reverie. "Uh, just this week. That's all. I promise. It was a one-time thing. A terrible mistake. I am sorry. It will never happen again."

"Ungh, ungh," I groaned. It is impossible to concentrate when you are getting fucked so well. "Liar," I gasped. "Oh my God. Oh, oh, ... You fucked her at least nine times in the last three months ... ungh, ungh, ungh ... Have records ... Sweetie, oh Sweetie, Oh Jeez!" Frank and I climaxed together as we pushed desperately into each other, groaning and moaning in pleasure. I collapsed on Frank's broad muscular chest, grinning happily at my distraught husband.

Harold was fit to be tied and spit out, "Okay, you have had your revenge affair. Now what? I give up. What do you want?"

"I coyly teased, "Oh Honey, this one time hardly evens the score. I am finding this situation very pleasurable. You have no bargaining chips."

Harold knew I spoke the cruel truth. He exploded, "I'm out of here."

"No, Dear. Unless you want the paperwork filed Monday morning, sit back in the chair. Otherwise you will soon be a pauper."

Harold was quivering with rage and helplessness, but he had no choice. He sat back down.

I swung off of Frank, and we both sat up on the couch picking up our bourbons Harold had so sweetly brought us.

"Don't be mad, Honey. You did it to yourself. Have a drink with your wife and her lover." I took a deep sip of the finely aged bourbon. "Oh Honey, this bourbon of yours is heavenly."

Frank chimed in, "Man, it sure is."

Harold just glared at us.

I giggled. "Well, just be that way. I'm taking Frank to our bedroom to see if he has any life left in him. You are sleeping in the guest room. Tomorrow we will discuss our situation at breakfast."

It had gone just as I planned. Frank and I had a practice session on Thursday night to get used to each other, perfect my plan, and get our timing down. Practice really does make perfect!

Saturday Morning

The next morning, I sent Frank off with a kiss, a donut, and coffee since he was working at the gym that Saturday. I got myself a donut and coffee and sat across the kitchen table from Harold. He was nursing a coffee and looking decidedly grumpy.

"Whew, that was some night," I exclaimed with a teasing smile.

"Knock it off," Harold snarled.

"Touchy, touchy,' I chortled.

"Okay, I screwed up big time. I don't want a divorce. I'll make it up to you, however you want."

"I think what you mean is you can't afford for me to divorce you."

Harold looked out the window. "Ok, Yes. I can't. I talked with my company's lawyer last night after you two went to bed. He said at this point, I should have a specialist divorce lawyer talk with your lawyer. Let people who are not emotionally involved discuss it."

"That is probably wise. Who is your lawyer?"

Harold sighed, "I haven't talked to anybody yet. Hoped it wouldn't need to go that far. Thought we could maybe let bygones be bygones after last night. Try marriage counseling before we go off the deep end."

I grinned naughtily. "Well maybe once we balance the ledgers that would be possible. I still have, let's see, nine times you cheated with Jean before, that I have records of. Then there is Monday through Thursday with her this week. That puts at least 13 credits on my side of the ledger."

"Screw however men you need to get even. I give up; you win. Let's just get the lawyers talking to each other and settle things to stay together. I will make it up to you."

"Have whoever you pick for a lawyer talk to my brother; he is representing me. Meanwhile, I have scores to settle with you and I intend to do just that."

Harold put his head into his hands. 'What the hell do you want?"

"I want you out of the house until Monday. Tonight, you are to meet me at Tony's Bar on Third Street at seven. I'll explain about that then. On Monday at ten am, be back here, and I'll have my terms for getting back together ready for you. Until then, I am going to have some fun."

Saturday Night

I arrived at Tony's at 6:50. It is the swankiest place in town, and the clientele is well heeled. Harold was already at the bar nursing a drink. He looked up at me and stared. Of course, so did everyone else.

I had spent the day at the beauty shop and spa. I was wearing a new, long, slinky red silk dress that clung to my body. A slit ran to my upper thigh, and the front and back both had dramatic dives. There was no good way to wear panties or a bra with this outfit! I topped it all off with 4-inch silver heels and a matching pearl necklace and earrings that Harold had given me for our first anniversary. I was the dramatic hot chic out on the town.

I sashayed over to Harold and let him buy me a glass of ridiculously overpriced French Sancerre wine. While we finished our drinks, I chatted gayly about trivialities. Harold answered in monosyllables and smouldered. When we finished our drinks, I took Harold by the hand, and we went outside.

I walked him across the street into Third Street Park. The park is covered with tall oak and hickory trees and is a delightful ten-acre retreat in the city. Natural springs bubble up feeding rills that coalesce and cascade into a small central pond. A maze of trails meander through the rocks and vegetation providing a pleasant stroll for those so inclined.

I led the mute Harold to one of my favorite spots, a park bench under a large oak. The bench provids a pleasant view across a small rock strewn meadow to the central pond, maybe a hundred feet away. Two small creeks bubble through rocks and splash into the pond, providing a soothing background noise. The far side of the pond has a gazebo with a light that casts the area surrounding the pond into dim relief. Well maintained paved trails branch out from the bench area leading down to the pond, further into the park, or back in the direction from which we had come, out to Third Street.

"Sit down and wait here," I commanded.

Harold complied with a grunt. "Am I about to witness another of your revenge fucks?" he spat.

I smiled brightly at him. "Oh yes. Thought I'd do it al fresco for some extra spice!"

"I hope the damn cops arrest you for public indecency," Harold grumbled. "Your stud muffin from the gym again?'

I laughed gayly. This was fun. "Oh no, someone new."

"Do I know him?"

"As a matter of fact, you do."

Harold sighed expansively, "Okay, who is it? Bill?"

"No, not Jean's Bill. You will see. He should be arriving at Tony's in about twenty minutes so I had better head back."

As I started back down the path toward Tony's, Harold called out, "What is to prevent me from just leaving?"

I turned around and smiling maliciously said, "Absolutely nothing, Dear. You are free to go, but I will file Monday morning if you do. You will be bankrupt soon after. Stay here and watch, and we will discuss my terms Monday. Watching or not watching your wife get screwed is totally up to you."