Professional Realtor His Story

The following is a sequel to SlutProblems' 2019 story, "

Professional Realtor Level

," about a wife who not only cheats on her husband, but does so repeatedly with the goal of feeding her clueless husband as much cum as she can.

We know nothing about the woman's husband in the original story, not even his name. We do know that he hates her "realtor voice," and that's about all, so this sequel tells the tale from his perspective. As I read the original, I couldn't help but wonder how a man married to someone for 15 years could not know his wife was cheating as much as the woman in this story was. This sequel provides one possible explanation.

I would like to thank SlutProblems for graciously giving me permission to write this sequel.

Also, many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. And yes, I do moderate comments.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... Remember, this is fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

It was only 8:45 am, but it was already shaping up to be the worst Monday of my entire life. Earlier that morning, I kissed Marissa, my wife of 15 years, on the cheek and wished her a good day. She's a real estate agent -- a damn good one, if her commission and bonus checks are any indication -- and has been for most of our entire marriage.

"You have a good day, too," she said in that fake realtor's voice she liked to use. She knew I hated it when she used that voice and the fake persona that went along with it. Making it worse was that little smirk she gave me as she looked up at me. It was almost as if she had a secret she was keeping from me.

I got to the office thinking about the work piled up on my desk. I had several reports that needed to get finished before the end of the month, which was coming up in just a couple weeks. As usual, I got to the office at 7:45, put my briefcase down and went to use the men's room before loading up on coffee.

That's when it hit me. Standing at the urinal, it felt like I was passing razor blades through my penis. I couldn't help it -- I screamed in agony. My immediate supervisor, Alan Randall, was using a urinal two stalls down from me. He heard me scream, finished his business and zipped up his trousers before coming to check me out.

"Greg, what's the matter?" he asked, concerned. That's me, by the way -- Greg Watson.

"I feel like I'm on fire," I said. We looked in the urinal and saw a greenish discharge from my penis. I had never been so disgusted in my life.

"Alright, Greg," Alan said. "Listen, go get yourself checked out. Let me know what the doctor says."

"I've got all those reports to get finished up," I groaned.

"Don't worry about them," he said. "I'll farm them out. You just go get yourself taken care of. If you need to take a few days off, let me know. You've got plenty of sick time on the books."

"Thanks, boss," I said. "I'm sorry about this."

"Hey, life happens," he said with a wry smile, trying to cheer me up. I washed up and went back to my office, where I grabbed my briefcase. On the way out, I told my secretary that I would be out for the next day, maybe more.

I thought about going to my regular doctor, but his office was on the other side of town, and I doubted that I could get in to see him today anyway, so I decided to stop at an Urgi-Care Center just a few blocks from the office.

They took samples from me, and told me to sit in the waiting room while they were being analyzed. It seemed like I had been waiting forever, but in reality, it had only been about a half-hour. Finally, a nurse came out and called my name.

"Greg Watson," the young woman called. I looked up and saw her beckon to me. She looked at me as though I was an insect. I couldn't help but wonder why, and got up to follow her. She pointed to an exam room.

"Take a seat, Mr. Watson," she said in a very unfriendly tone of voice. I sat down and watched as she sat down, looking at the sheet of paper in front of her. She went through the motions of taking my vitals -- blood pressure, temperature, that sort of thing. After she wrote it all down, she looked at me.

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said before she left the room. A few minutes later, I heard a tapping on the door and an elderly gentleman in a white smock looked inside. Seeing me, he entered the room with a folder and sat down.

"Mr. Watson, I'm Doctor Smith," he said. "Your preliminary test results are back and it seems you've got a pretty nasty case of gonorrhea."

"Gonorrhea?" I asked, shocked. "How is that possible?"

"It's a sexually-transmitted disease, Mr. Watson," he said, looking at me as though I was stupid. "I'm going to put you on an antibiotic and I recommend no sexual activity for seven days after finishing your treatment. If your symptoms continue even after the treatment, I recommend you see your primary care physician."

He went on to explain that other test were being run and I may not get the results for a couple weeks or more, and then he wanted a list of everyone I had been with recently.

"I've only been with one person, sexually, my whole life," I said. "My wife." He looked at me, sadly, for a few moments before noting my chart. "But if I got this from her, wouldn't she show some symptoms as well?"

"Not necessarily, Mr. Watson," he said. "Even if she does have symptoms, she may mistake them for a bladder or vaginal infection. She should get tested as soon as possible. The longer she waits, the risk of developing serious complications increases. I'm sorry, Mr. Watson." He handed me a packet containing some pills and had me sign a couple forms.

"Take care, Mr. Watson, and be sure to follow up with your doctor," he said before leaving. Wonderful, I thought to myself as I went through the check-out procedure. I got to my car and called my boss to give him the news.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Greg," Alan said. "Don't worry, discretion is my middle name. You take some time off and come back when you get cleared. I've already farmed your reports out, so don't worry about a thing. Get well."

"Thanks," I said as I ended the call. I dreaded making the next call, but I've never kept anything from my parents before and I wasn't about to start now. I hit the speed dial for my parents and heard my father answer the phone.

"Hey son, what's up?" he asked. "Are you at work?"

"No, Dad, I have a bit of a problem and I need to talk to you and Mom for a bit if that's alright."

"Of course," he said. "Everything alright with the children?"

"As far as I know," I said. "Listen, I really don't want to get into this on the phone."

"Well, come on over and we can talk over a cup of coffee," he said. We ended the call and I put my phone away before heading out. I suppose I should explain something about my family.

My sister, Denise, and I grew up in a very religious family. Our home was a very happy one, filled with laughter and love. We had very happy childhoods and our parents are very much in love with each other. But we were raised with a fairly strict set of rules. One of those involved sex outside of marriage -- a big no-no in my parents' view.

Because of that, I had never once gone "all the way" with any woman until the day I married Marissa. Sure, I had dated and fooled around a bit, but that was it. I remembered the day I told Marissa I wanted to wait until we got married to have sex. She gave me a huge smile, and kissed me deeply.

"That's so sweet," she said. "I promise I'll rock your world the night we get married." And she did. I had never felt anything so warm, wet and creamy in my entire life and I couldn't get enough of her. She didn't seem to be bothered by my lack of experience, and I enjoyed letting her teach me how to love her the way she liked.

I even grew to enjoy oral sex with her, and she seemed to really enjoy it as well. I knew she wasn't a virgin when we married, but I didn't mind, as long as she remained faithful to me once we got married.

She started working for a large real estate office in town and worked to get her license. About a year after we were married, she gave birth to the first of our two daughters -- Lisa.

A year after Lisa was born, Ginger came into our lives. Marissa had a terrible time giving birth to Ginger, so she had her tubes tied, telling me that two was enough for any couple. I respected her decision and we moved on. I had hoped for a son, but was more than happy with our two daughters. Naturally, they both became "Daddy's girls" and they had me wrapped around their little fingers in no time.

Marissa went back to work after her maternity leave was up, and threw herself into her work. Many times, I found myself playing "Mr. Mom" while she worked evenings showing houses or wrapping up paperwork in the office. I didn't mind, really. I love my girls and happily took care of them when Marissa wasn't around.

As the girls grew, I found myself spending even more time with them, taking them to whatever extra-curricular activity they were involved with when Marissa was unavailable. Lisa liked music, and took piano and guitar lessons, while Ginger was more athletic, playing softball or soccer.

As time went on, though, I noticed that Marissa was gone more often than not. And it wasn't just evenings. She was often sent to attend seminars out of town that kept her away on weekends. Then there was the annual company retreat that kept her away for a week at a time. She always called me every night to check up and say hello to the girls, but it just wasn't enough.

On top of that, she had developed that irritating fake persona that drove me nuts. I had spoken to her about it more than once, but it was clear she wasn't going to give it up. I also noticed her attitude had changed a bit and wondered if maybe she was spending too much time at work. Even the girls had begun to notice the change in their mother.

But I never thought she would cheat on me. She knows how I feel about infidelity. I finally found myself at my parents house, and pulled into the driveway. Dad met me at the door with a hearty bear hug and slapped me on the shoulder.

"Coffee's just finished. C'mon in, let's sit and talk," he said. I walked into the dining room and gave Mom a hug before we sat down. Mom poured our coffee and I added a splash of butter pecan creamer. Dad did the same and we took a sip.

"Why don't we start with a prayer?" Dad asked. Of course. I was used to that by now. That was the way they handled everything. First there was prayer, then the discussion. We prayed for a few minutes, then got into it.

"What happened, son?" Dad asked.

"I just came from the Urgi-Care clinic. I've got gonorrhea," I said.

"Oh my," Dad said quietly. That was one of the things I admired about him. He could handle just about anything, as long as it was the truth. "Have you been fooling around?" he asked after a few awkward moments.

"No, Dad, never," I told him. "Marissa's the only woman I've ever been with." He nodded his head.

"I believe you, son," he said. "I just wanted to hear it from you."

"So what do you plan to do?" Mom asked.

"I don't see that I have any other choice but to divorce her over this," I said.

"It's going to be hard on the girls," she said.

"Yes, but they're old enough to understand," I said. "Besides, there's no way I can put this behind me. Even if she says she won't do it again, there's no way I can trust her to keep her word."

"Do you have any idea how long this has been going on?" Dad asked.

"No, none. I just learned it was happening this morning with... this," I said.

"Well, adultery is a valid reason for divorce," he said. "I hate to see it happen, but I don't really see any other way around it. Hang on a second," he added as he stood up and headed for his office. I looked at Mom, who seemed devastated by what was going on.

"I'm so sorry this happened, Greg," she said. "I always thought Marissa was a wonderful girl."

"I did too, Mom," I said. "I guess she had us all fooled." By then, Dad returned with his Rolodex. He rifled through the cards until he found the one he was looking for. He pulled it out triumphantly.

"Here it is," he said. "You know Gina Hawkins?"

"Yeah, she goes to our church, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's a family law attorney. Let me give her a call," he said. I wasn't surprised that he had her card. Being one of the deacons at the church, Dad had a bunch of cards he had been given by members of the church. As I watched, he called Gina's office and I could hear him speaking to what I assumed was her receptionist. Finally, he was put through to her office line and I could hear his side of the conversation.

"Gina, hi, this is Dan Watson... Yeah, from church... We're doing well here, thanks. How about you? Good... Listen, I was wondering if you could work my son in sometime soon. He's got a little problem and I think you may be able to help him... Oh, really? This afternoon? 12:30? Wonderful! I'll make sure he gets there... Thanks, Gina, I owe you one... Sure, take care of yourself and give that little one of yours a big hug for us, okay? Bye bye." He hung up the phone and looked at me.

"That was Gina and she said she had a cancellation and can fit you in at 12:30 this afternoon," he told me. "She says you need to bring in your financial records and your tax returns from the last two years."

"Okay," I said. "I guess I'd better get to the house so I can get my stuff together."

"Sounds like a plan, son," Dad said. "You know you're gonna have to tell Marissa about the STD. She'll need to be tested as well before she spreads it any further than she already has."

"Maybe the girls should stay with us for a while," Mom said. "It's probably going to get a bit uncomfortable in the house with all this going on."

"You're right," Dad said. "Maybe they should stay for a few days until things get ironed out. Look son, why don't you bring the girls by after they get home from school. We'll make sure they get to school on time."

"I'll do that. Thanks, Dad," I said. We talked for a few more minutes, then I got up to leave. Dad hugged me at the door.

"Everything will work out, son," he said. "Just don't do anything stupid. I know you probably want to lash out and get revenge on Marissa, and I don't blame you for that. But remember Romans 12:19. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.' Got it? I don't want to have to bail you out of jail. You have two girls to think about." I chuckled at that.

"No problems, Dad. I got it," I told him. I got back in my car and headed home. Dad was right about one thing. I wanted vengeance, against Marissa and her lover -- or lovers. I had loved her exclusively for more than 15 years and was more than a bit upset that this was how she repaid me.

I got home and started going through my files to get my old tax returns. I also had to dig through Marissa's stuff to get her returns as well. About eight years ago, she said she wanted to file separate returns, claiming it would keep us from paying more taxes than necessary. I went along with her idea and thought nothing more of it.

When I pulled out her tax forms, I learned the real reason she wanted to file separately. It turned out she had made a lot more in bonuses and commissions than I realized. I knew how much she had deposited in the joint bank account, so I wondered where all the extra money went.

Digging deeper, I found a folder containing bank statements. I noticed they were from a bank we didn't use. Looking at the most recent statement, I saw she had managed to set aside nearly a million dollars over the last eight years. What was she planning, I asked myself. Was this her exit strategy? Did she plan to leave after the kids left for college? I took the statements along with her tax forms and added them to my folder.

I got in the car and started to head out when my phone buzzed, letting me know I had a text message. It was a message from Marissa, telling me she had a late showing and not to wait for dinner. Yeah, right, I thought.

"No problem," I texted back. "See you when you get home." I sent the message wondering if she noticed I didn't tell her I loved her. Oh, well, I thought. I got to Gina's office building, parked the car and headed to her suite. When I got there, I was greeted by an attractive blonde receptionist.

"I'm here to see Gina Hawkins," I said. "I have a 12:30 appointment." She looked on her computer for a moment, then smiled and escorted me to Gina's office. Gina stood and we shook hands.

"Good to see you, Greg," she said with a smile. "Would you care for some coffee?"

"Coffee sounds great," I said. "Please." Gina looked at the receptionist.

"Could you please bring two cups? And some butter pecan creamer?" Gina asked.

"Of course," the receptionist said before leaving. She returned a few moments later with two cups and some small pods filled with creamer. Gina motioned for me to sit and I did.

"I was surprised to hear from your father this morning," Gina said. "So, you have a problem that needs my assistance?"

"Yes, it seems Marissa has been cheating on me," I said.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Gina replied. "I thought you two were the real deal."

"I thought so too, but I guess not."

"So, why don't you tell me what happened?" Gina asked. I told her about our marriage, ending with my trip to the clinic this morning and the bank statements I found earlier today.

"Well, I can understand how you might feel," Gina said. "Let me explain a bit about divorce in this state. You see, divorce isn't about justice. It's all about money. Specifically, how much you have and how much of it your wife's lawyer can get from you. Although this is a no-fault state, you can file on the grounds of adultery, but you need to have very compelling evidence."

"What about the STD she gave me?" I asked.

"I agree that sounds very compelling, but her attorney could easily argue that you got it from another woman," Gina said. "You and I both know that wouldn't be true, but that doesn't matter. What does matter is what the judge believes. As for the money she socked away, she could easily argue that it was intended as a retirement surprise."

"You don't believe that for a minute, though, do you?" I asked.

"No, I don't. It sounds like an exit strategy to me. She's obviously waiting for the best time to make her move. I'd guess she's waiting for the girls to graduate high school so she won't be saddled with them. Again, that's going to be hard to prove in court."

"So I'm just out of luck. Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, not at all," she said. "I happen to have a private investigator on retainer and I can get him on the case as early as this afternoon if you wish. If she is playing around, we'll catch her. Do you want to go that route? It can be fairly expensive, but at least you'll have evidence we can use in court."

"Yeah, let's do it," I said.

"Alright," she said. "Get me all the information you can -- make and model of her car, license plates, that sort of thing. Any idea where she might be?"

"Hold on a second," I said, pulling out my phone. "I installed a phone finder app when she misplaced her cell a few months back. Let me see if it's still running." I opened the app and ran a search. According to this, her phone was at a house in the north part of town. I showed Gina the address and she wrote it down.

"Alright, let me get my PI on this," she said, grabbing her phone. As I waited, she spoke to her PI and emailed him the information I gave her. She ended the call and looked at me. "Alright, that's done. If there's anything going on, we'll know soon enough. Now, on to business. I understand you have two teenage daughters, is that right?"