Not Appropriate

actually) and just never got around to submitting. Just trying to clear out the archives here.

Warning: Not breaking any new ground here.

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NOT APPROPRIATE

A brief example of improper behavior.

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I arrived home from work at the usual time. My bride of 6 years was in the process of ironing one of her cocktail dresses. My immediate thought was that we had plans tonight, which excited me. I loved taking my wife out on the town. She always looked really hot when we went out and the envious looks from other guys never failed to give me a boost. She was with me, and all they could do was look. Her dark skin (she was the daughter of Mexican immigrants) and deep brown eyes never failed to arouse me, and combined with her long, flowing hair and slim athletic body it made for a stunning image. She had done crew (that's rowing to the uninitiated) in college and still maintained a slightly muscular physique, though the muscles had lost some of their edge since she did more running and aerobics than rowing these days.

Before I could ask her about our plans for the evening she took the conversation and ran with it.

"You'll never guess who I ran into today," Mireya said, without a break in her rhythm. "Anthony!"

Anthony? Anthony? I was trying really hard to place the name, especially as it pertained to someone that she would get that excited about seeing, presumably after some time. Only one Anthony came to mind so I ventured a guess.

"Anthony, you're boyfriend from high school, Anthony?" I asked.

"Yes. Can you believe it? Out of nowhere after all these years."

For background, Anthony was my wife's boyfriend the last 2 years of high school. I never met him, having met Mireya in college, but I heard about him. Oh boy, did I hear about him. They had apparently only broken up because their colleges were so far apart but they had been in love, at least according to her. So even though I met my future wife during orientation freshman year and we hit it off right away, I had to settle for being friends because she wasn't ready for a relationship yet.

She finally agreed to be my girl right at the end of freshman year, but then went back to her hometown (Salinas, California) that summer. I visited once for a few days and got to meet her very large, very traditional Mexican family, but they readily accepted this white boy into their clan. I think my darker Italian skin helped. I wondered if Anthony ever made an appearance during that summer but neither of us brought him up, and I hoped it was behind her.

"Where'd you run into him?" I asked.

"In the lobby of my office building; I was just coming back from lunch and saw him in the lobby. I was trying to figure out if it was really him when he saw me. He recognized me immediately. He's a rep for a pharmaceutical company and comes around this area every other Wednesday and was there to see some of the doctors in the building. Isn't that amazing?"

"Yes, amazing," I agreed. I would have been more 'amazed' except I didn't care for how excited she was about this.

"I mean, what are the odds that we'd happen to come across each other like that. I'm so blown away by that. Anyway, we're having dinner tonight to catch up."

That explained the cocktail dress. I didn't relish the idea of having a third wheel along when we were out; I preferred to have her all to myself. But this was a special situation and I could deal with it to make her happy.

"Oh, okay. When do I need to be ready to go?" She stopped ironing.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean we're all having dinner; just him and me."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean just you and him? Why don't you want me there?"

"He asked if I wanted to have dinner so we could catch up and I said yes. We'll just be talking about old times, and I don't want to have to worry about what you're thinking or what you might say about, you know, some of the things that happened before I met you. I just wanna be able to talk freely. And besides, you'd probably be bored the whole time. But you know I love only you, baby."

"Honey, it is entirely inappropriate for a married woman to be out alone with another man, especially an ex-boyfriend. Even assuming that nothing will happen, what if someone we know sees you out on a date with someone other than me?"

"Henry, it's not a date. It's just two old friends having dinner. I can't believe you're giving me such a hard time about this."

She set the iron down and held up the dress to inspect it for wrinkles.

"If it's not a date," I asked, "then how come you're getting one of your sexy cocktail dresses ready?"

"You know I like to dress up when I go out," she argued. "It doesn't mean anything. It's like you don't trust me."

"I do trust you, but it's not just a matter of trust. How would you like it if I insisted on going out to dinner with one of my ex-girlfriends and made a point of telling you to stay home?"

"I'd say that's fine, because I trust you and I know you love me and only me."

I didn't buy that for a minute.

"Mireya, this is not okay with me. You are not going out and having dinner with Anthony by yourself. Either you don't go, or I go with you."

Well, that ticked her off.

"You're not my father, you're my husband. I am a grown woman and you don't tell me what I can and can't do! I am going and you're not, and if you don't like it that's too fucking bad."

She took her dress from the ironing board and went into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. I pulled a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. We had always discussed things like this before until we had an agreement on how to proceed. Never once had either of us told the other that we would do what we wanted and if they didn't like it that was too bad. When she finally came out she looked great, I had to admit, though my main thought was she looked too great for what she was about to do.

As she passed me she paused and kissed me on the cheek.

"We can talk about this more when I get home, okay?"

I was having none of it.

"We've already talked about it and you made your position perfectly clear. You'll do what you want and who gives a damn how I feel about it. It's good to know what our rules are going forward. Just don't forget to use a condom."

"I am not going to have sex with him, you son of a bitch! It's just dinner! Damn you!"

With that she stormed out of the house.

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I turned in early. She had left the house about 7:00pm and I heard the bedroom door open about 10:30pm. She went immediately to the shower, though she always showered at night so there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. She slid in behind me and I could tell she was naked. She whispered into my ear.

"Baby, I could use some tonight. Interested in a little make-up sex?"

I turned to her.

"Frankly the idea of you getting revved up by Anthony then coming home for sex doesn't hold much interest. I'd just wonder who you were thinking about. Besides, I don't think we've made up yet."

I rolled back over. As you might expect, this did not sit well, but her argument didn't go the way she hoped.

"Well, would you rather I got turned on by you and then had sex with him?" she snapped at me.

Without turning around, I said, "So you admit that you got turned on being with him."

"No, that's...ahh, that's not what I meant! All I meant was that no matter what happens I only have sex with you. I love you, dammit, and I don't see why you can't understand that and trust me."

She just didn't get it. I sat up and faced her.

"And I can't understand why you don't see why this bothers me. No matter what you were to him before, you're my wife now, and it seems like my feelings should carry a little weight. They always have before. But now that Saint Anthony is in town suddenly I'm just an obstacle to be dealt with so you can do what you want."

Her head went down.

"You're right, baby. I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate of your feelings. I got caught up in the moment, the excitement of seeing him again, and I forgot who really matters to me. Can you please forgive me?"

Relieved that she finally seemed to understand, I pulled her to me.

"Of course, I can forgive you, honey."

She lifted her beautiful brown eyes to me.

"Can we make love now?"

We could, and we did.

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I forgot about it until 2 weeks later, when Mireya called to let me know she had to work late, something about a special project she needed to finish. It was Wednesday; the same day that old Anthony would be swinging through on his regular schedule. I did not believe this was a coincidence.

And so on my way home from work I decided to stop at her office. I picked up a couple sandwiches on the way, my cover being that I was just bringing her some dinner. Ain't I thoughtful? I signed in at her building's security desk and headed up to her office. Mireya worked in the front office of a major insurance company, and this would be the first time in 3 years that she's ever had to work late.

The entry door was locked since it was after hours so I knocked. The door was glass so she would see me as she approached the door. I really expected the office to be empty, but there she was at her desk working away, and sure enough she turned as soon as she saw me through the door. Her beautiful smile lit up her face.

"Hey baby, what a nice surprise." She walked over and gave me a kiss. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I brought you a sandwich for dinner. I figured we could still have dinner, even though you had to work late."

"That's sweet. Let's eat, then, but let's make it quick. The more time I spend not working the later I have to be here."

We spent about 15 minutes eating and talking about our days, and then I left her to do her thing. I drove home feeling foolish for doubting her. Maybe, just maybe, that dinner was the end of it. They had caught up, she had gotten him out of her system, and that was it. I was prepared to trust her...until it happened again two weeks later.

The same phone call about working late for another special project came. If true, it meant her company was giving her more responsibility, which was a good thing. But I couldn't shake the feeling that it was just a cover story. The timing was too coincidental.

This time I simply called her, though it was on her direct line. I knew the caller ID would identify me so she'd pick up the phone, and thus I would know she was at her desk, as opposed to calling her on her cell phone, which she could answer no matter where she was. It seemed a simple way to make sure she was at her desk when she said she would be. That whole office had cameras so it was extremely unlikely that she'd try anything actually in the office.

I called her at 5:45 and again at 6:30, and both times she picked up on the 2

nd

ring, with no hint of anything out of the ordinary. A quick 'I love you, I miss you, wanted to hear your voice' and that was the end of it.

And so I settled into an uneasy peace, reasonably confident that she was being faithful and I was just being paranoid. When she came home on time the next Wednesday Anthony was in town I finally allowed that it was over. Two weeks later Mireya again called to say she was working late, but it was Thursday, not Wednesday, so I relaxed. It continued from there to happen every other Thursday, but I still called at least once each time just to keep my head on straight. She always answered.

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Things may have continued that way if not for an office party thrown by Mireya's insurance company that happened about 4 months after this ordeal began. It was after work on Friday and was held in the banquet room of a nearby Mexican restaurant. They had 2 of these per year: one at Christmas and one in June, which was the current event. I recognized some faces but didn't really know names since I saw these people so rarely.

I chatted up some of the other attendees as the night wore on. Some were spouses/significant others and some were employees. The fateful conversation came with an older woman named Sheila, who identified herself as the office manager and general assigner of extra work.

"So, you're the one putting the crimp in my married life," I said jokingly. She seemed perplexed.

"I apologize if I have, but I'm not sure what you're referring to," she said.

Trying to keep it light-hearted, I mentioned the special projects that Mireya was being assigned with some regularity, causing her to stay an extra couple of hours a couple times a month. Her expression grew serious.

"I'm sorry Henry, but I'm a bit confused," Sheila said. "I haven't assigned your wife any extra projects in the last few months. We've only had a couple as it is and they both went to other people. I know she has worked late on occasion during the last few months, but that was to make up for the 3-hour lunches she was taking to run errands."

Well, didn't I feel stupid. I mumbled some excuse about my being confused while a giant lump formed in my stomach. I made my way to the bathroom but somehow managed to keep my dinner down. I had taken my wife at her word, which I suppose is what trust is all about, and it appeared to have blown up in my face. Her staying late to cover for a long lunch simply never occurred to me. The change to Thursdays was simple enough to explain: Anthony could simply have made a change to his route. Maybe he did it because they thought I was getting suspicious since I was checking up on her, or maybe it was just something that happened. In any case, things seemed clear now. All I needed was the proof.

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When the next 'every other Thursday' came around, I was parked in a friend's car outside my wife's office building. Sure enough, just after 12:00, I saw my wife and who I presumed to be Anthony walk out of the lobby hand in hand and headed for the parking lot.

I took a few pictures as they went. I was a little surprised they would be so open. Her co-workers might not have known exactly what I looked like, but I figured they knew that wasn't me.

They climbed into a Ford Taurus (Mireya had a Camry so I presumed this was his) and pulled into traffic. I was right behind them. Traffic was heavy enough that I could stay close without worrying about being noticed, and they pulled into a Super 8 motel, pulling around the back without hitting the office. I guess he was prepared. I pulled into a spot down the parking lot from them and took pictures of them. He led the way, opening the hotel room door. They paused in the doorway as she gave him a long, tongue-filled kiss and I saw his hand find its way to her breast. My stomach jumped, and I noticed she still wore her rings. I wondered if it was a thrill for him that she wore my rings as they had sex.

I made a few calls as I waited, setting up an appointment with an attorney and letting my office know I'd be off for a few days. But mostly I sat there waiting. Finally, at about 2:30, the door opened. I was snapping pictures again as Mireya was still buttoning and straightening her clothes. Her hair was noticeably disheveled. I didn't need action shots to know what had gone on in there (nor did I want any; her being in a hotel with him was proof enough for me). I put away my camera and headed home.

I was thankful that we hadn't started a family nor bought a house. This split would be pretty simple, in terms of 'stuff'. There were only our cars and some money in the bank, and that was easily split 50/50. The call came as expected. She was working late again, on another 'project'. I simply said that was fine and I'd see her about 7:30.

I didn't bother to call her that evening, thinking there was no point, but she had noticed, and I had to think on my feet.

"Honey, I was looking forward to your calls. You've called me every time I've worked late to tell me you love me. What happened?"

"I'm sorry, baby. I was working on something in the garage and lost track of time, and before I realized it you were on your way home. I promise not to forget again, though I hope the late nights are going to be over soon."

"Soon, I think. If not, I'll ask for a little break and have them give the projects to someone else."

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I was resolved that the next time would be the last. I had made all the arrangements I could; even splitting the finances (I paid all the bills and did the banking so she would never notice). Though I knew what was going to happen I didn't bother following her again. I had what I needed. So, when the call came that she was staying late again, I was at work and was not surprised.

I grabbed dinner on the way home. I ate it but didn't really taste it. Then I started packing my things. I had a couple of hours before Mireya got home and all I had was my clothing and toiletries. All of the apartment décor was Mireya's style and the kitchen stuff was all cheap and generic. I didn't want any of it. I did call her like before, just to keep things as normal as possible for the last time.

I was fully packed and ready to go by the time Mireya got back at 7:25, my things already loaded into my car. She was in a good mood as she came through the door.

"Hey baby," she said. "How was your day?"

She tried to give me a kiss but I avoided it. "Mireya, we need to talk."

"Um, okay honey. Let me put these things down."

We sat at the table kitchen table, the site of so many memorable moments from our years together. She just smiled at me like we were about to discuss whether to buy that new sofa we had been considering. She had no idea what was coming.

"So, you've been working late quite a bit lately. How are your projects working out?"

"Great, great; they seem very impressed with the work I'm doing. Hopefully it'll mean good things down the road."

"Tell me about them."

"What?"

She certainly hadn't been expecting that, thinking telling me she had 'projects' would be sufficient and I would never express the need for details. She hadn't thought that far ahead...

"The projects; tell me about them. What have you been doing?"

"Uh, just...um...some analysis, you know, of rates in certain areas, and...um...you know...things like that."

"I'm glad it's going well for you. So, is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"Just that I love you, but you already knew that."

"You know, I thought I did, until I found out about you and Anthony."

She exhaled in exasperation. "That again, Henry. Damn it, I haven't done anything with him. I haven't even seen him since that one time months ago."

"Haven't seen him in months? Is that right? Are you sure about that?"

"Yes Henry. I'm sure."

But her expression betrayed the surety of her words. She was worried.

"Well then, perhaps you can tell me who the guy in these pictures from 2 weeks ago is, if it's not Anthony?"

I slid the pictures I had taken across the table, with the one of her coming out of the hotel room a mess right on top. Her head fell. The next things to hit the table were the divorce papers.

"No Henry, please. It was nothing, just...nothing. Can't we get past this? Counseling or something; whatever you want."

"Of course not, Mireya. I told you when we started seeing each other that cheating was a deal breaker and I was zero tolerance on it. You're my wife and there's been countless times in just the last few months when I wasn't even the last one person you had sex with. And then you lied about it, right up until I had to put the pictures in your face. You showed a complete lack of respect for me and our marriage. There is no chance at all for us. I thought we had a good marriage. I'm sorry that it, that I, wasn't enough for you."