Old Story Another New Ending

Can you cheat in an open marriage? Alternate ending II

I took a stab at an ending for this Odiouser story a while back. Some readers liked it, but some were in more of a punishing mindset. And I think I should have given Spence some pain. So, here's a different take. If you haven't read the original or any of the other alternate endings, Merl White has discovered that his loving wife has been secretly dancing and whoring at a strip club. He has found evidence of affairs with the mayor and a former co-worker of his. He has also found thousands of dollars in cash, jewelry, and an antique coin worth half a million dollars. As the scene opens, he's wrestling with his discoveries and what to do about it.

I woke up about 4 a.m. feeling angry. My dreams had been painful and full of betrayal. I slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen for a glass of water and an aspirin. I saw Heide's purse on the table. Curiosity got the better of me, and I dug through it a little bit. I was surprised to find a tube of lube. Was she getting corn holed at the club?

In my pissed-off frame of mind I had an idea. I took the tube out to the workbench in the garage. In a drawer I found a couple of little tubes of Superglue. After putting on latex gloves, I removed the cap from the tube of lube, and squeezed out most of the slippery stuff. Then I squeezed the contents of the glue tubes into Heide's tube, being very careful not to get any on the outside. I replaced a little of the original lube in the tip of the tube, made sure there was no glue on the threads, then screwed the cap back on.

Trash pickup was the next day, so I tossed the empty glue tubes in the waste can. I carefully wiped off the tube, removing any fingerprints. I slipped back into the house, put Heide's little helper back in her purse, and after finishing my glass of water, carried out the trash, turned off the light and crept back to bed.

I had no idea what would be the result of my little mischief. For all I knew the chemicals in the lube would neutralize the adhesive properties of the glue. At the very least I figured it might give her some discomfort. At most, it might create some very interesting results. If, that is, she even used that tube. As I lay there, staring at the ceiling while she softly snored beside me, I wondered how long I would have to wait. I decided to give it a few days before moving on to other steps. In the meanwhile, I'd let her stew a bit wondering how much I knew and what I would do about it.

I also wondered if, knowing that her secret life had been exposed, she would modify her behavior, or if she would just carry on until I called her out. My head was swimming and my stomach churning.

I went to work as usual on Tuesday, although my emotional turmoil and lack of sleep worked together to make me pretty unproductive. I did manage to get deep enough into a project to take my mind off Heide for a couple of hours.

Dinner was uncomfortable. Heide had made some extra effort to prepare one of my favorite meals, but neither of us was very hungry. She kept looking at me with haunted eyes. I suppose she was expecting me to confront her, accuse her, be angry, be hurt. Instead I made a little conversation about work, then asked her about her charitable projects. Needless to say, her answers were vague. I thought she might try to address the elephant in the room, but she just bit her lip.

After dinner I left her to go into my stamp room to "do some work." She cleaned up the dishes, then I heard the TV. I went to bed early, and she joined me later. She put her arm over me and made to slide into a familiar spooning position. I didn't prevent her, but I made no effort to adjust to her. She got as comfortable as she could, and dropped off. I was so exhausted from lost sleep and emotional upset that I dropped off as well. Agitated as I was, it was still comforting to have a warm, soft, body pressed up against me.

Wednesday I got home from work to find she had prepared another fine dinner. I talked about my work a little - there had been a false fire alarm and we'd had to evacuate the building, so we laughed about that.

Then she got serious. "I'm going in to work tonight," she told me, looking me straight in the eye. "I know you have learned about my secret life and my other identity, so there's no reason for us to play games. I've been expecting a confrontation, but you haven't said anything, so I guess you must be okay with it."

"Don't mistake inaction for acceptance," I replied. "I just haven't figured out what to do with you yet."

That brought a frown. She looked like she had been ready to defend herself in a fight, but I didn't give her one. I think psychologists call this passive aggressive behavior.

"Well, I'm going in for my regular dance shift. But Flaming Red will not be taking anybody to the VIP rooms tonight. Until we get this sorted out, I'll only be dancing."

"Fine, whatever," I said, and got up from the table. There was a time when I would have helped her clean up the dishes. Not tonight. As I headed for my stamp room I turned and looked at her and said, "You know, I really did love you." I went into the study and closed the door. After a while I heard the sounds of her getting ready to go out. I think I might have heard some sniffling, as well.

She called out as she was leaving, "Love you, don't wait up."

I didn't.

At 12:37 a.m. my phone chimed. I answered groggily. "Mr. White?"

"Yes."

"This is Janice Fitch. I'm a nurse in the emergency room at St. Mary's Hospital. Your wife is here."

"Has there been an accident?"

"Well, I suppose you could say so. It's hard to explain on the phone. I think you'd better come down here."

I couldn't help it, I smiled as I said, "I'll get dressed and be right there." Could it be that my little stunt had produced results so soon?

It took about half an hour to dress, get out the door, and drive to the hospital. I knew the way well, I drove past it every day on my way to work. As I pulled into the E.R. parking area I noticed a police car parked near the ambulance bay. I walked in and identified myself at the reception desk. As I looked around the room I noticed a couple of police officers, a man and a young woman, talking to a doctor. The receptionist signaled to the doctor, and she came over to speak with me.

"Mr. White, I'm doctor Samantha Martin. Your wife is in a room over there with a couple of her friends, I guess you'd say. I have to tell you this is an unusual and complicated situation. And frankly, we really don't have the means to treat her - um, them."

"Okay," I said, trying to look serious while imagining what Heide may have gotten herself into.

"I gather that you are aware of where your wife was, tonight." I nodded. "And you may be aware of the activities that take place there." Again I nodded.

"I'm trying to prepare you for what you are about to see. And then, those police officers are going to want to talk to you."

"Doctor, I'm a big boy, and I have recently learned that my wife is a whore, so you don't have to tiptoe around it. What's going on?"

"It appears that someone has tampered with a tube of lubricating jelly, and two men are stuck in your wife."

"Really! How embarrassing for them!"

"Embarrassing for your wife as well, I'd imagine. And very painful."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure she's beyond embarrassment," I said. "Let's go see her."

She led me to a private room off to the side. Despite the doctor's effort to prepare me, I was stunned by the site. Three bodies writhed uncomfortably - no, painfully - on two gurneys pushed together. On the bottom was our esteemed Mayor Burns. On top was my old friend Spence. Heidi squirmed between them. The mayor's cock was in her cunt, Spence's cock was in her ass, and each had a hand stuck on a boob. Heide had one hand stuck on her pussy.

"So, I guess you went a little beyond just dancing, eh?" I said to her.

She was in too much pain to do anything but look at me. She was crying and moaning, and each time one of them would move, she'd squeal in pain. "Did you do this?" she asked me.

"No, dear, from here it looks like you did it. And are still doing it."

"No, you bastard, did you put glue in the lube?" the mayor snarled.

"I don't know anything about a tube of lube," I replied. "I've never needed one because I don't do anal. Only filthy degenerates do anal. Say, ol' buddy Spence, you filthy degenerate, what are you doing there? Sticking your wick in my filthy degenerate wife's ass?"

The doctor probably thought that the sight of this trio of debauchers would be the most shocking thing she would encounter this shift. My callous attitude appeared to have pushed her to another level.

"Why don't we talk outside," she said, and led me out of the room. I asked her how they would deal with the situation.

"Well, using a scalpel we can probably slice and peel the hands off her breasts without doing too much damage. It appears the adhesive is Super Glue. She has two finger tips stuck on her clitoris. I'm not sure how we separate skin from that delicate tissue. Plus, it's complicated by the presence of the piercing. One finger appears to be stuck on that, too. Whenever she moves it pulls on the piercing and adds to the pain."

I pretended I knew she had a pierced clit.

"The real problem comes with the penises in her vagina and anus," she said, trying to keep her clinical face on.

"First of all, because they are deep inside her body, we can't get to the points of contact without surgery. And, of course, those sensitive tissues are subject to tearing and hemorrhaging if we don't act quickly. And in the meantime, your wife is in terrible pain."

I wanted to suggest that they just cut the cocks off at the base and leave them in there, but somehow I controlled myself. Just then Spence's wife came into the lobby looking worried.

"There's Spence's wife, you'd better go talk to her," I said. "As for the slut in the middle, do whatever you have to do. I'm going to go talk to those officers, then I'm going to go home and get online and look for a good divorce attorney. Tell Heide I said 'Goodbye, it was fun while it lasted.'"

I went over to the cops while Dr. Martin tried to gently break the news to Spence's wife.

The cops asked me if I knew anything about who might have tampered with the lube. I told them I had no idea, that I didn't know she had lube, that we had never needed it in our sex life. Just then we heard Spence's wife scream from the other room. Poor thing, she had no way to prepare for this.

The officers took down my statement, took my contact info, and gave me their business cards, asking that I call if I thought of anything else. They let me know they might be contacting me if they had more questions, then said they were sorry for this trouble. It was pretty clear that I was the obvious suspect, but since the empty glue tubes and gloves had gone away with the trash pickup, I couldn't see that they could make a case for arresting me.

The sky was brightening as I walked out to my car. I smiled to myself. The mayor was washed up, I was pretty sure, and Spence's tomcatting days were probably over. I didn't know what kind of shape Heide's nether parts would be in after the surgery, but I suspected she'd be retiring from the skin trade.

I went home, packed up the things I wanted, took the antique coin as compensation for pain and suffering, and went to work. Apartment hunting would come later.