My Dilemma 5

Hi Everybody,

My latest offering is not for the faint hearted, possibly one of the toughest I've written. After my previous one that's saying something.

A special thank you to Siren Capts for her editing.

Despite the title this is fiction. All characters are the result of my over active imagination. Any resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Enjoy.

CharlieB4

My Dilemma

I was in a rush as I drove towards home, my two daughters had a piano recital and I had promised I'd be there. Coming up to the driveway I looked at the mailbox, the flag was up. It was a rarity these days as I got my paper and most of my bills online. I jammed on the brakes and waited for the cloud of dust that was following me to pass before opening the door of my ute. Looking inside, I pulled out the letters: two junk mail offerings, one from a telco trumpeting a new plan, one from a power company sprouting their new fee structure, and one large nondescript A4 envelope with a hand written label addressed to me. Turning it over, there was no sender information and my interested was piqued.

Just then the opening riff of AC/DC's Back in Black blared from the phone in my pocket - it was the wife.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mike? We are going to be late!" Jane scolded.

"I'm on my way down the drive!" I replied, throwing the mail on the passenger seat, jumping in, and flooring it the eight hundred metres up the drive to the house.

Scooping up the envelopes, I made my way into the house, discarding them in the overflowing in-tray on the desk in the office before going to face the music in the bedroom. I had my shirt off and was working on my pants when I walked through the door.

"What have you been doing?" Jane turned away from the mirror where she had been putting in her earrings.

"I had to catch a sheep that was having trouble lambing," I replied, taking off my pants and reaching for the deodorant.

"Are those sheep more important than your family?"

"They pay the bills. Anyway you know these things never start on time." I had my clean shirt on and was reaching for my freshly laundered jeans.

"Just for once I'd like to not be the last one there!"

"I'll still beat you to the car," I retorted as I pulled on my boots and stood, ready to go.

It was a week before I got to sit down at the desk in the office again. It was close to time for me to submit my quarterly goods and services tax return, so I began to organise the pile of invoices into bills, income, and junk. The envelope I had added to the pile was sticking out, so I grabbed it and opened it up. What I saw made my blood run cold.

It contained six old style photographs. They appeared to have been taken without the subject's knowledge, most through a window, the others around a door. They were very dodgy efforts, like they had just held the camera in front of the window and clicked away without looking to focus or frame the shots. They showed a man and a woman in various stages of sexual contact - Nosey and my wife.

From the first look, I knew where and when they had been taken though I had never been to the house. While these pictures were being taken, I had been sitting, waiting, in my father's old truck at the park for Jane to arrive. My sister's four-year-old sat beside me complaining about the wait and asking where Jane was. I was fuming when she was finally dropped off. I could feel that anger rising in me again, just as it had sixteen years ago.

I leaned back in the chair running my fingers through my hair as the past came flooding back. We had been married for four years back then; we were going through a sticky patch that many married couples have.

We had just bought the farm next door, and I was working long hours to get it into a more productive state. Jane had been having problems at the real estate firm where she worked. The lady, who had hired and mentored her three years before, had sold the business. The new owner, a man, was making changes and all the staff were upset. Two of her colleagues had resigned, and my wife was feeling very isolated. My long hours only exacerbated this.

I told her to quit, we were planning to start a family anyway. Jane had stopped taking the contraceptive pill four months before. We were both tired and grumpy, probably too absorbed in our own problems to empathize with each other.

It got worse when the football season started again. I had "retired" the year before, but the local team was trying to put two sides together, so the old hands were called on to help with the reserve grade. I told them I would help out with home games; it hadn't gone down well with Jane.

"You work eighteen hours a day and don't have time for me, but you can take time off for football?"

The first home game, we went in to town together. Reserve grade started at two o'clock and finished at ten past three, leaving me three hours of daylight, so I went home after to finish seeding a paddock while Jane stayed to watch and drink on the sideline. Her sister-in-law had arrived with a bottle of wine to watch Jane's brother in the firsts.

I had returned at around seven pm for the after match speeches and a steak sandwich at the clubhouse. Jane was pissed, sitting in a circle of the younger guys, playing drinking games with cards and shots. She barely acknowledged my presence, so I ignored her as well, getting something to eat and talking with my teammates. After the speeches people began leaving, heading to the local pub. I was intending to work the next day so was keen to go home. Jane wanted to go to the pub. She said her brother would give her a lift home, so I left.

Her brother did bring her home, but not until midday the next day. I was pissed off and worked all Sunday, never venturing near the house. When I walked in that night Jane's brother and his wife were still there, so that meant was no confrontation. Apparently, the party had moved to the brother's house after the pub shut, and Jane had spent the night on the sofa bed after. I initially thought alone, but during dinner she complained that she had gotten cold and Nosey wouldn't cuddle her back to warm it up.

I had given Jane a shocked look, Nosey was Jim Hanson's nickname. It wasn't because he had a big nose but because he was always on the "sniff". Young, old, married, engaged, everything in a skirt was fresh meat for Nosey. Seeing my distress, Jane had laughed.

"Come on Richard, he is like my little brother," she said, rolling her eyes for her family's benefit.

The next home game was three weeks later and it followed the same pattern. I played, went back to work, Jane stayed and got drunk. When I returned, she wasn't keen to go home, so I also went to the pub this time. I was the taxi service as I was sober enough to drive. I had decided to stay to make sure Jane came home, but I was tired so I had gone to have a sleep in the car. Waking up an hour later with a sore neck, I went back inside and told Jane it was time to go.

"Alex will drop me home," she had slurred, referring to her brother.

He didn't, he didn't even drop her home the next day - Nosey did. We were going to my sister's, who lived about two hours away, to pick up some furniture she was giving us as well as an electric oven because she had recently converted to gas. I had my Dad's old truck and my sister's four-year-old, who Jane had said we would drop back home after he had wanted to stay with his grandparents.

Once again, I was pissed but didn't want to make a scene in front of the kid and Nosey. It got worse when Jane came up with her plan.

"It will be pretty squashy in the truck cab for the three of us. Nosey's house is halfway there, so I'll go that far with him, then we will meet at the park and go the rest of the way together."

"Which park?" I had asked through gritted teeth.

"The one with the war memorial," Jane replied, getting back into Nosey's car. At least he looked uncomfortable about it, too.

So, that must have been when the photos were taken. I had waited at the park for forty minutes for Jane to get there.

"I thought the old truck was going to take longer, so I went to Nosey's for a coffee," was her excuse.

I should have blown up about it, but we had a four-year-old sitting in between us. I restricted myself to giving one word replies as Jane gushed about Nosey's new house. He had built it himself apparently, did all the internals as well. She was particularly taken with a glory box that he had at the end of his bed with intricate carvings on it. I should have guessed, I suppose, but I trusted her even if I was angry with her.

I did wonder though, since we hadn't had sex since her last period. I decided to refrain from my conjugal rites and see if "the circus came to town" again in a couple of weeks. I began to get worried when it appeared to me to be late, playing out the confrontation in my head when Jane told me the good news and I said it wasn't mine. Much to my relief, the discarded pad covers appeared in the bin beside the toilet, so my fears were allayed.

Jane quit her job and things calmed down for two weeks until the Saturday after her last day at work. It was another home game, and I played in the reserves but stayed and watched the firsts this time. Jane was more subdued that day, still having a glass of wine but staying in control. Afterwards, I was talking to some other farmers outside and Jane was inside the clubhouse. I didn't think I had been outside that long, but when I went inside there were shot glasses in front of her and her sister-in-law. She had her drinking face on and was sitting in a group with Nosey. I tried to ignore it, but she seemed to be a dog on heat. Following him around, putting her hand in his back pocket when he was talking to someone. I confronted her about it outside the ladies' toilet, but she said she was teasing him, trying to piss him off.

It didn't seem that way to me, and no doubt to other observers. I was doing my shift behind the bar at closing time as people drifted off to the pub. When I had helped close up, I went looking for Jane but couldn't find her. Someone told me she had already gone to the pub. When I got down there I went in the side door. Nosey was sitting on a bar stool at the bar, Jane was behind him with her hands under his shirt. He was trying to have a conversation with the guy beside him, doing his best to ignore her, when Jane ripped open his shirt. Buttons flew everywhere, patrons laughed and somebody yelled.

"Looks like Nosey's getting lucky again tonight!" I didn't think anybody had seen me, so I stepped back outside.

'Getting lucky..... again! What the fuck did that mean?' I may have left quietly, but I smoked the tyres on the bitumen as I scorched away from the pub. I drove around aimlessly for an hour before I went home that night. A million thoughts were racing through my mind. Filled with anger, sadness, but mostly just deflated, I climbed into bed hoping for sleep.

The next day, it was almost lunchtime before Jane was dropped off. Whoever did it took off quickly before I saw who it was. I remember I expected her to be contrite and full of remorse, but she breezed in as if nothing had happened. In fact, she was happier than she had been in weeks. After seeing me, her smile faded. The confrontation I had planned in my head didn't quite work out.

"What's wrong?" Jane asked.

"As if you don't know!"

"What?"

"Looks like Nosey's getting lucky tonight!" I mimicked the voice from the night before.

"What are you talking about?" She seemed genuinely mystified.

"That's what Gunner said when you ripped open Nosey's shirt!" I don't know if it was Gunner, but I knew she didn't like him so it added to the effect.

"It was just a joke, why would people think that?"

"Maybe it was the way you were hanging off him like a bitch on heat!" I spat.

She regarded me coolly, then as she walked towards me she began to smile.

"You're jealous," she countered, "you're so jealous you're turning green." She stopped in front of me and brought her hand up to my face. "You're really cute when you're jealous." She tried to kiss me, but I moved back.

She kept coming until I was backed up against the kitchen cupboards. Not bothering with my face anymore, she placed her hand on my crotch.

"Want to do something about it?" Jane had her head cocked to one side as she gave me a sultry look.

I had fallen for it, taken her to the bedroom, and fucked the anger out. Afterwards, she had asked if someone did say that about her and Nosey. When I confirmed it, I thought she had shown genuine remorse. She never went near Nosey after that, and three weeks later she whispered to me that she thought she was pregnant. I kissed her and from then on our love only grew stronger.

Now, I sat looking at evidence that told me it was a sham. The first four photographs were taken from the window. In three, Nosey sat on the glory box with Jane on her knees in front on him. His jeans were around his ankles and she had her head in his groin. The last one from the window showed a positional change. Jane was bent over the glory box with her pants off - no wonder she noticed the carvings. Nosey was behind her, his hips pressed to her arse and hands gripping her hips. No need to guess what was going on there.

The other two were taken from inside the house, I guess around the door. The first mostly showed Nosey's arse again, only this time it was on the bed nestled between Jane's spread legs. The last was the post coital shot, Nosey on his back after rolling off, his cock now limp. Jane hadn't changed position, but now there was a clear view of her bare thighs framing the triangle of her pubic hair.

I looked inside the envelope and pulled out an anonymous note.

"Mr Cooper

We recently bought a house and there were some boxes left behind by the previous owner. I was going to take them to the tip but thought I should look through in case they left something they wanted. I found the photos and thought you wouldn't want them getting into the wrong hands. The negatives are inside as well.

A friend."

It explained some, but not all, of my questions. How did he know who it was and where we lived? I guess I'll never find out.

Now to the main issue, what to do? Swear? Scream? Break things? I really wanted to call her all the names I had dreamt up sixteen years ago, maybe even make some improvements. The problem with that is, before you sit in judgment on someone else, it's best to have a long hard look at yourself. If I was being truthful about myself then I would be a hypocrite.

Eleven years ago our house was bedlam, three kids under five; everything stunk of baby shit and vomit. Sure, you wouldn't trade it looking back, but in the thick of it, you just wanted some time out. Good fortune had come my way by means of an invitation to attend the annual farmer's association conference in the city. Three days away, no broken sleep, no vomit unless I drank too much, oh heavenly joy!

The trade-off was, the conference was as boring as bat shit; lots of old farts arguing about inane motions. Most of the delegates were over fifty, however there were about a dozen others there around my age and we soon began to hang out together. Of the dozen, there were two women, a short, roly poly, dairy farmer's daughter, Cheryl, and a tall, buxom blonde named Michelle. There were only three single guys amongst us, and they hung around Michelle like bees round a honey pot. The rest of us would laugh at their attempts to woo her.

On the last night, after the conference had wrapped up, there was a big dinner. Politicians and agri-business people mixed with the delegates, in a cocktail party first, followed by a fully catered sit down dinner. There was an open bar so most of us were getting a bit hammered. I tried to stay in control as I knew in twenty four hours I would be knee deep in baby shit

As the dinner broke up, the single guys were trying to get the girls to continue the party up in one of their rooms. They shot them down, so they left in search of some local night life. I was about to head to bed when Michelle sat next to me. To my amazement, she propositioned me, inviting me to her room. I was flattered but let her down gently. She had shrugged and told me if I changed my mind, go to room 806 and knock three times.

Later that night, I woke up with a hard on and Michelle's face and breasts in my mind's eye. I was tempted all over again but resisted. However, when I got home, the image of her stayed with me. I found myself thinking of her as I fucked my wife. For the twelve months until the next conference, just thinking about her got me hot and bothered.

I went as the local delegate again the following year. I ran into Michelle the first night at a drinks and nibbles event, but I noticed she had an engagement ring on. I thought that would put an end to any romantic, or the downright pornographic, fantasy I had been having. We seemed to be avoiding each other, then a couple of hours later she came and sat next to me on a lounge. I congratulated her on her engagement, we made other small talk, then her hand went onto my knee.

It was like a shot of electricity. I looked into her eyes as her hand crept up towards my thigh. I stopped its progress with my hand, yawning and saying I should be going. She followed me out and we got on the lift. We were alone, standing close but not touching - the tension was thick. Michelle put her hand on my arm and the dam broke; twelve months of fantasies and frustration swept any good sense aside as we kissed and began tearing at each other clothes.

We made it to her room with most of our clothes on, then stumbled and fell on the bed. She had my cock out and I had removed her panties, so we got straight to it. It didn't last long. As we caught our breath, we took the rest of our clothes off before jumping back into bed for round two.

For the three days of the conference, we were like a couple of teenagers sneaking behind their parent's back. We attended every session, but in the breaks and in the evening, we stole away and explored each other's limits. We did it on every piece of furniture in each other's rooms, in the disabled toilet of the convention area, on the balcony, even on the eighteenth green of the golf course beside the hotel.

At the last night's dinner, we sat beside each other but engaged those around us in conversation rather than talk to each other. Under the table it was a different story. Wandering hands and feet got us both worked up, so straight after dessert we hightailed it back to her room.

In the early hours of the next morning, I woke with Michelle's body wrapped around mine. The guilt hit me - it was heavy and oppressive. Later today I would be home with my family. The extent of my betrayal engulfed me. I slipped out of bed and grabbed my clothes, sneaking back to my room.

I got up early, intent on getting out of the hotel before anybody was up. I had just checked out when Michelle came down in the lift. We talked in the hotel coffee shop and apologised to each other. We knew we had done wrong.

When I got home, I left the farmer's association; I didn't want to be near temptation again.

I couldn't separate the two events. I had broken my promise to Jane, just as she had to me. I could skirt around the edge by saying I hadn't lied to Jane, but I didn't tell the truth either. A couple of times the guilt got so bad I almost did, but in the end I felt the best way forward was to keep my secrets. Now, I would have to do the same again.

I tucked the old photographs away inside the cover of an old farm diary. I should have cut them into tiny pieces into the bin but I couldn't, not yet. I went out to the kitchen to be with my family. Jane was preparing dinner; my son and one of my daughters were doing homework on the dining room table. The other daughter must have been practicing her piano as the sometimes melodic strains of Fur Elise floated in from the lounge room.