Surprise

It started out so innocently; my wife and I were shopping on Michigan Avenue; Jane was looking for a new outfit for our upcoming 25th anniversary party. She found a nice dress and two pairs of shoes to match, but couldn't decide on which pair, so I suggested heading up to Gibson's to have a drink and get our daughter-in-law's opinion.

Jane agreed, after two hours shopping she was ready for a drink and it would be nice to surprise Taylor since we hadn't seen her for a while. We assumed Taylor, that's our daughter-in-law, would be working today since she usually tried to get a Saturday shift, she claimed the tips were always better on Saturday. Our son Paul has been out of town for the past week getting depositions and information related to a court case he is working on. Paul works in the District Attorney's office and although he was not allowed to go into specifics, he hinted this case had to do with the Russian Mafia and he was talking to a few former members that were in Federal Witness Protection.

Jane and I hailed a cab for the short trip to Rush Street, it was only six blocks, but Jane's feet were giving out. Jane just has to wear four inch heels when she's shopping Michigan Avenue, something about looking the part. I've been married long enough to know to keep my mouth shut and avoid pointing out the lack of logic in her footwear choices.

The cab dropped us off in front of the restaurant. It was midday, so it should be the slowest time in Taylor's shift. With any luck we'd be able to chat for a few minutes while we enjoy our cocktails and an appetizer. As I opened the restaurant door for Jane, I immediately spotted Taylor in the back of the bar; she's hard to miss since she's 5'9" of Scandinavian beauty. Taylor was talking to another of the waiters, but there was an intimacy in their posture that started alarm bells in my head, including the fact Taylor's hand was resting on the waiter's arm.

The maître d was not at the front when we stepped in so we stood there for a solid minute. During that minute I kept my eyes on Taylor. I was a bit surprised by the way they gazed at each other. I looked at Jane to see if she was having the same reaction.

I asked the maître d for a table in Taylor's section and after seated Taylor finally looked away from the other waiter. As she first started toward our table she put on her 'waitperson charm smile', it disappeared the second she recognized us and was replaced with a look of shock and concern.

"Mom, dad; what a surprise." Taylor's voice was a bit strained and she was obviously trying to get the smile back on her face.

Jane answered her. "Taylor, we just stopped by to have a drink and get your opinion on some shoes. We've been shopping for hours and we both need a drink."

"The usual? A Basil Hayden neat for you dad and a Grey Goose rocks for you mom?"

"That will be great, plus one of those cheese plates, please? There's no rush Taylor -- how have you been this week with Paul out of town?" I asked.

"Very busy and very lonely. I miss Paul and hope he gets home soon. Work's been all right; I'm training Carlo, the new waiter." Taylor looked over at Carlo when she said this and much to her dismay, Carlo winked when he saw her looking. Taylor rushed off saying, "I'll get your drinks" and most likely told Carlo to cool it in front of her in-laws. Carlo shot us a quick look and headed into the kitchen.

I used Taylor's absence to ask Jane. "Babe, I know with my history I'm a bit suspicious, so tell me what you saw there."

"Mark, you aren't being suspicious without reason. I saw the same thing you did. And I'm not going to let Taylor break our son's heart. She's a bit too nervous and she looked a bit too comfortable with the new guy."

"What do you think; should I call your Uncle Teddy?" Teddy was Jane's uncle who retired from the Chicago PD a few years back and did some security work. Jane's family on her father's side (the Summers) were all cops, her mother's side (the Simoncellis) were connected to the Sicilian mob. It made for interesting family get togethers.

"Yea, why not call my uncle and have him take a peak."

Taylor came back with our drinks and sat with us for a while since there were only a few other patrons. When Carlo came to the table to bring our appetizer, I took the opportunity to introduce myself and talk a moment with him. It was obvious Carlo's first language wasn't English, it took me a couple questions before I found out he was from Italy; working here while studying at Loyola.

Jane and I finished our drinks and most of the cheese before heading home where I called Uncle Teddy.

Mark Davis' History

You may consider me paranoid; why would I get such a bad vibe from two co-workers having a conversation during a lull in the workday? That would have to do with how my first marriage ended, the marriage to Paul's biological mother. Claire was her name, maybe it still is if she's still alive. We haven't communicated in fifteen years, not since she showed up higher than a kite at Paul's high school graduation.

I married Claire right out of college. She was a bartender at the tavern our crowd hung out at. She was the most beautiful, well-built woman I had ever met; and in a perfect example of thinking with my little head, I started to date her as soon as she showed interest in me. I'm not a bad looking guy, but I'm certain her attraction to me had more to do with my being a college grad student and she probably heard about my trust fund through the grapevine. I always had a wad of cash on me and always tipped the bartenders, especially the pretty bartenders, more than the standard going rate.

Claire accepted my date, balled my brains out on our very first night together and accepted my proposal before the end of the semester. My parents tried to talk me out of marrying her; but of course I was much smarter than they were. I think it was Mark Twain who said he was surprised how much his own father had learned in the seven years between Twain's 18th and 25th birthdays -- or something to that effect. Whoever said it and whatever he said, it applied to me during those years of my life.

Luckily my grandfather made very specific arrangements when he created the trust funds for my brother and me. They included not having access to the funds until our 30th birthday and required a pre-nuptial agreement before any marriage.

Even without the half million in the trust, I was still very well off. As long as I kept my grades up my parents gave me a great allowance. And thanks to my parents' connections I had a fantastic job waiting upon my graduation with an MBA.

I graduated, Claire signed the pre-nup (I'm pretty certain she was stoned when she signed it, but the notary didn't seem to notice because he spent the entire time trying to look down Claire's blouse at her un-tethered breasts) and we got married in Vegas over my parents' mild objection.

I won't say the entire marriage was awful; in fact, without getting into too much trouble with Jane if she reads this, I'd say the sex was spectacular. Although Claire and I were having sex since our first date, she went all out during that week in Vegas.

Claire spent every afternoon at the topless pool wearing the smallest bikini bottom she could find. In fact, one afternoon she made friends with a young stewardess who lent her a Wicked Weasel bottom purchased in the Caribbean. I was sitting in my lounge chair at the pool when the two of them came down from the Beth's (the stew) room. Claire took off her cover-up and I nearly choked on my beer. All she had on was this small bottom with a floss backside, but the front was a transparent triangle barely large enough to cover her labia.

"Are we going to get kicked out of here?" I asked.

"If anyone complains, I'll go back to the other bottom." she answered.

No one complained, but Claire and Beth spent that and the next afternoon laughing behind their Foster Grants at all the men who would find reasons to walk by sporting wood under their suits.

At night Claire was no less an exhibitionist. She'd either be wearing the tightest of tight jeans with some risqué top (never a bra underneath) or some version of the little black dress that would barely cover her ass and breasts. One night she came out of the bedroom wearing a red silk dress that was almost obscene complimented by a pair of red heels tall enough that she was looking directly into my eyes (I'm 6'0" and Claire was 5'7").

"Where are we going with you dressed like that?" I asked.

"You'll see" is all she answered.

When we walked through the lobby I got a kick out of seeing men's, and a few women's, heads snap as Claire walked by. We got into a cab, Claire handed the cabbie a note and off we went into the Vegas night. We pulled up in front of a strip joint. Claire got out of the cab while I paid the cabbie. He chuckled, thanked me for the nice tip and told me to have fun.

Until that night I'd only been to a couple strip joints in the Midwest. The girls were usually somewhere between a 5 and a 8 in looks, very few of them danced with any real enthusiasm and never without at least a g-string to hide the goods. Vegas was different. Where did all these beautiful women come from? Sure, I know some or maybe most of them had enhancements, but if so, the surgery was top notch.

Claire was giving me a big smile when I looked at the stage to see two beauties up there totally naked, each swinging from a pole. "Like that?" she asked.

Claire pulled the skirt of her dress up to reveal a garter around her upper thigh. From inside the garter she pulled out a couple hundred dollar bills.

"Tonight's my treat to you."

And treat me she did. I had three lap dances that night, using every bit of will power to keep my hands from grabbing each dancer's breasts or ass; the two burly bouncers that look like they belong on the Bear's defensive line are a strong deterrence. As hot as my lap dances were, what almost had me cumming in my pants was the lap dance Claire bought for herself. Either the bouncers weren't looking or they give ladies a little more leeway because Claire twice kissed the dancer's nipples and once put her fingers near the dancer's vagina.

After Claire's lap dance we headed back to the hotel. I wanted to get up to our suite immediately, but Claire wanted another drink or two. We sat in the lounge and Claire did her best to continue the tease.

"What was your favorite part tonight?" she whispered in my ear.

"You mean besides my beautiful wife wearing the most bodacious dress I've ever seen? Or the two naked women spinning around on those poles with the grace of ballet dancers? Or the three women trying their damnest to make me cum in my shorts while they gave me those lap dances? Or maybe, just maybe my favorite part was watching you get that lap dance and getting away with kissing her nipples and nearly playing with her clit. Damn her clit stood out a full inch when she got off your lap."

"What do you mean, nearly touched her clit? I did better than that." With that Claire took her middle finger and rubbed it under my nose. It smelled of sex. "Not only was I able to flick her clit a couple times, I got my finger all the way inside her sex. Can you smell that? I'd bet a hundred dollars she had sex with someone in the past few hours."

"Damn Claire, how long are you going to keep teasing me down here. I want; no, I must get inside you soon or I'm going to bust my nut right here. What I don't understand is how can you stand it? Don't you need to get fucked after all that teasing?"

"Who said I didn't get fucked?" Claire said this while looking me right in the eye and playing with my upper thigh. "Remember when I went to the bathroom while you were getting the third lap dance? Didn't you question why I was gone for so long, or were you just so into that brunette that you didn't miss me?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying my husband was having so much fun with the brunette bimbo that he didn't notice his wife gone for long enough to get fucked in the men's bathroom by that handsome black gentleman that was sitting at the table next to us."

I was struggling with Claire's confession. Was she continuing to tease me or did she really just fuck another man and cuckold me within four days of our wedding?

"Oh, poor Mark. Your face tells me you want it to be a lie, but your cock tells me it turns you on to think of me getting my pussy pounded by a big black cock. Which is it, lover?"

It's true; my cock was rock hard. But I've read somewhere that this is a reaction to semen competition. The male of the species will want to use the crown of his cock to pull the other suitors' semen out of a woman to replace it with his own. So, I answered Claire truthfully.

"If you ever cheat on me I'll divorce you so fast your head will spin. Now let's go upstairs. If you have cum in your pussy this marriage is over before it even starts. We can get a divorce in Vegas almost as easy as getting married."

Claire looked crushed, but didn't argue as I took her hand and practically dragged her to the elevator and again down the hall to our suite. When we entered the room I pulled her dress off, pushed her onto the bed and shoved two fingers in her cunt. It was wet, but that was to be expected after the night we'd had, but lucky for Claire there was no sign of male semen. Just to make certain I sniffed my fingers and found neither the pungent smell of semen or the tell-tale rubber smell left by a condom.

I quickly stripped and shoved my cock inside her pussy; I needed this. I didn't last more than a minute before cumming, but I stayed hard and after a few moments to calm down, I started making love to my wife. I pulled Claire into my lap with my cock inside her, this position allowed me to reach and tickle her cervix. Claire loved it as I played with her breasts and rocked my hips. She probably had three or four orgasms before I let loose for a second time.

We laid in each other's arms. I was playing with her blonde hair with one hand and her ass with the other. It had been a great night, but I felt I needed to say one last thing before we fell asleep. "I'll accept the teasing, but remember what I said. If I ever catch you cheating on me, we're through." I know, not the most romantic thing a husband can tell his wife after making love, but Claire needed to know how I felt about adultery.

We probably conceived Paul that night, or at least one of the mornings, afternoons or evenings during our week in Vegas because six weeks later Claire was holding one of those pregnancy test strips in her hand and it was showing a positive result.

++++++++++++++++++++

I was ecstatic about having a baby and Claire seemed to be happy as well. At least she never said a negative word. We were financially secure with my income, we agreed Claire could become a stay-at-home mom. Claire's pregnancy went without a hitch; Paul was born in December and yes, he was definitely my son.

Claire wasn't a great mom, but she was a good mom to Paul. One of our bigger blow ups during the last term of Claire's pregnancy was whether Paul would be breast fed. Claire absolutely refused to consider it and in the end you can't force a woman to nurse her baby. After Paul's second birthday, Claire wanted to go back to work. Her only job qualification was a bartender; as a compromise I insisted no dive bars or pick up lounges, she had to find an upscale restaurant for work or it was a no-go. Claire agreed to my demands and within three months was hired by one of the nicer dinner clubs in town. My mom and Claire's mom watched Paul for the few hours our work schedules overlapped.

I thought we had a good marriage; I really loved Claire and thought she felt the same. After Claire started working there were no overt signals of trouble; we were spending less time together, but I thought that was temporary until Claire got pregnant again. Unfortunately, there was a snake in the grass and his name was Neal. Claire and Neal worked together at the restaurant; I'd met him a couple times when I sat at the bar, which I did on occasion just to have a few extra hours with my wife. I never saw anything between the two of them that would raise a red flag, so that fateful day I walked into our home came as a surprise.

The house was immaculate and the aroma of my favorite dish filled the kitchen. I gave Claire a kiss and Paul a high five. "What did I do to deserve this?" I asked.

Claire's response was like a fist to my chest. "Mark, there's no easy way to say this, but I'm leaving tonight with Neal; we're going to California. Neal has a part in a TV series and he wants me there with him."

I can't say for certain, but I think I just sat there for a few minutes looking back and forth between Claire and Paul. I finally shook the cobwebs out of my head.

"You're not taking Paul!"

"God no! Paul stays with you. He's better off here with you and our parents. There's no way I'll be able to take care of him while I'm working out there and Neal has no interest in being a parent."

I lost it and started shouting. "You fucking bitch. You fucking bitch. How can you do this to us? How can you walk out on me and your son? What the fuck did I do to deserve this shit?"

"You didn't do anything Mark. But I knew the first time Neal fucked me that it was over between us. You always said you'd divorce my ass if I ever cheated on you and after the first time Neal shoved his cock in me I knew it was going to happen again and again."

At this point I realized our nearly three year old son was being exposed to the foulest language coming out of his parents' mouths. Paul was sitting at the table with a terrified look on his face. I picked him up and sat him in front of the TV; put on a Disney movie with the sound turned up, kissed his head and returned to the kitchen. Claire hadn't moved.

"What's so magical about this asshole's cock that you have to leave your family?"

"Don't go there, Mark. You don't want to know."

I controlled myself enough to keep my voice below a shout. "No, I do want to know. You never seemed disappointed in our love making. You've never complained. What's his secret technique for stealing wives from their husbands?" It turns out I shouldn't have asked because her response gave me visions for months afterwards.

"Let's just say the first time we were together I thought he was going to cum in my mouth -- and that was when he was fucking my pussy. Yea Mark, you're pretty big down there, but Neal is a monster and I've grown to love it."

"That's it? You're leaving us for a giant cock? Crap, I'll buy you one of those novelty giant dildos at Lover's and you can stay here and raise your son!"

"Mark, this is going nowhere. I took half the money from our accounts and I have two bags packed in my car. I won't need my winter clothes in LA so just give them to charity or whatever. I'll let you know where I land in LA, but you still have my cell number in case of an emergency."

I was still in shock and didn't grab the rock off her left hand before she walked into the TV room. She gave Paul a hug and a kiss and just like that was out the door.

The next day I woke my fuzzy brain and started to disengage our lives. Cancelled credit cards, closing joint accounts and contacting an attorney to start divorce proceedings. All the usual crap. Claire was in LA with Mr. Big Dick.

Months later it set my recovery back a bit when I saw the asshole while channel surfing one night. I wondered how Claire handled the fact Neal's character was in bed with some beautiful actress and they were simulating sex; I wasn't handling it well at all. I had stopped on the channel because, well, because two people were in bed together and I hadn't gotten laid in months. Then I recognized that Neal was the man in bed and to top it off, he was in bed with some blonde actress who could have been Claire's twin. Talk about bad timing! I turned the TV off, poured myself three fingers of bourbon and sent thoughts of bad Karma west to LA.