Saturday, 2:00 PM (Bob & Sam)
Despite five years of what I considered to be a perfect marriage, I have felt dejected for the past two weeks. We were getting ready to go over to Tom and Nancy's for grilled steaks and a bit of socializing. We had moved to this neighborhood about a year ago, and had been to several of their informal socials before. This time however, it would be just them and us. I guess Tom was an all right kind of guy, but a little too forward for my taste. He openly flirted with the ladies and at times let his hands roam just a bit too much. Throw in a bit of arrogance and you have Tom, a guy some people found easy to dislike.
Nancy was just as big of a flirt as Tom, but without the arrogance. She was fun, energetic, bubbly, considerate, and often the life of the party. She was also a persistent tease, and I have had to extract myself from her more than once when dancing at some of these get-togethers. She did like to get up close and personal and it didn't seem to make any difference who she was dancing with at the time.
"Damn it, Samantha! Are you going to spend all day in the shower?"
Sam, short for Samantha, is my wonderful, loving, devoted, and now cheating wife of five years. I know, at least I think I know, she has not been completely faithful. Hence the real reason for my crummy mood. All I need is the proof, like catching her in the act. I tried that yesterday. She said that she had a business lunch to go to and would be a little late getting home that evening. So I took yesterday afternoon off, went over to her work with the intention of following her, and catching them in the act.
Fred, my good fishing buddy, is the culprit and when I catch them I will have a few choice words for him, and maybe a right cross to his chin as well. Fred is not married and he does love the ladies. I used to like listening to his tales of conquest of this girl, or that married woman, or whatever. But when I figured out that one of those married women included my dearly beloved wife, well, needless to say, Fred and I will not be fishing together anymore.
"Samantha! Will you hurry up? We'll be late."
"Okay! Okay! Just a minute! Have a little patience. Will ya?"
They had been seen in a bar together about five weeks ago, just a week before our birthday. We were both born on the same day of the same month of the same year. I am exactly 12 hours older than Sam. I was born at 5:10 AM and she was born at 5:10 PM. I still tease her about me being older and wiser once in a while.
The bar was right next to the hunting and fishing supplies store Fred and I use. Fred was sitting at the counter drinking a beer when she walked in, and said:
"Hi, Fred. I've got a problem, and I think you're just the guy to help me with it."
He looked up, and said: "Well hello, Sam. Grab a stool and tell me all about it."
I do not know what they talked about, as my witness was too far away to hear. They talked for about fifteen minutes and then they got into his truck and drove away. They returned about three hours later. She leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, got out of his truck and into her car, and left. I remember asking her what she had done that afternoon and all she said was: "Wouldn't you like to know." And then she went upstairs and took a shower. I didn't find out about this little episode until two weeks ago during boy's night out. Mike, Tom's friend, took me aside and told me all about it. The thing of it is, she has been acting a little reserved with me for the past couple of weeks. Reserved hell, no sex. Between the headaches, upset stomachs, and being too tired, not even so much as a decent kiss.
To top everything off, yesterday afternoon had been a complete waste of time. When I got to her work, her car was already gone. I started out driving past every restaurant and lunch counter that I could think of. No luck. I then toured the parking lots of the most likely bars. No luck. I checked all the hot-sheet hotels I could think of. No luck. I drove by asshole Fred's house, twice. No luck. I even drove past our house a couple of times. No luck. Wherever the hell she/they went, they were damn good at not being found. All I managed to accomplish was a wasted afternoon and an almost empty gas tank. She was home when I got there, and I knew she had been up to something by the look on her face.
"The shower is all yours."
Wow! There she stood, in all her glory. Damn! I could just sit and look at her forever. She had her hair gathered up under a towel that was wrapped tightly around her head. Long flowing dark hair that didn't stop until just below her shoulder blades. Soft brown eyes, small turned up nose, and a mouth that is so kissable. That is except for the past couple of weeks. Perky, 36c breast, 26" waist, and 38" hips. That's her all right. I got up and started ...
"Don't even think about it, Robert. Go take your shower. Make it a cold one."
"Yes dear."
Yep, that's me. Robert. Usually, she says Bob, but lately it has been Robert more often than not. I haven't heard Boobbyyy ... which is what she often says in the throes of passion, for the past two weeks. Oh well...
*****
Saturday, 2:30 PM
My handsome, loving, devoted, cheating husband of five years hung his head and went into the shower. He has been on my bad side for two weeks now and that's not going to change anytime in the near future. Boy's night out my ass. More like boy's night to go out and fuck some damn whore.
The nights out started right after we bought this house, a little over a year ago. New to the neighborhood, we wanted to blend in, have friends, be good neighbors, and do all of the things normal people do. Every couple of months the guys would supposedly go to a sports bar, watch some game on the big screen, yell and scream, and have a few beers too many. Not wanting to be left out, we girls would go to a quieter bar and have a few drinks of our own. Not only would we gossip about anyone that didn't show up, we would exchange rumors about one another face-to-face. This was our time to let our hair down and have a little fun even if it was at someone else's expense. No one ever got their feelings hurt too badly, and we always remained friends when we left.
Tom and Nancy's is where we are going this evening. Tom is an ass. He always pulls me way too tight to him when we dance and he can't keep his hands off my ass. I had to slap him once when he copped a feel of my breast. Thank goodness Robert didn't see it. He would have made a big scene right there. I have no idea what Nancy would have thought about it.
Nancy is a predator. That's the only way I know how to describe her. She dances with most of the guys the same way Tom tries to dance with me. I get the feeling she would take Robert to bed in a heartbeat if she had half a chance. Tom and Nancy are an okay couple and they are fun to hang out with once in a while. They were just a little more freethinking than we were.
Us? Just what are 'us' thinking? What am I thinking? I haven't been able to think straight for two weeks. Not since Janet, Nancy's friend took me aside and told me of Robert's busty girl friend. She had seen Robert in one of the better downtown restaurants having lunch with some big-busted redhead. Evidently, this little tryst took place just a week before our birthday. The thing is, Robert had started to act a little secretively about that time. Like there was something he wanted to keep hidden from me. Well, that isn't going to work. As a matter of fact I attempted to catch him out yesterday, but it was a complete waste of time. I had told him of a business lunch and a probable late meeting yesterday and that I might be a little late getting home. For just a moment he got a far off look in his eyes, and then appeared to make a decision. It was so obvious. He saw a chance to be with his red-haired bimbo. Well, I knew how to take care of that. The first thing I did yesterday morning was cancel my lunch and meeting and reschedule them for early next week. I then told my boss that something unexpected had come up, and I had to have the afternoon off. He reluctantly agreed.
I left work about 11:30 and headed for Robert's work. Due to midday traffic, I didn't get there until about five after twelve and guess what. His car was already gone. So I started searching the parking lots of the most likely places. Restaurants, bars, motels, I even went by our house three times. I finally give up about 6:30 and went home. Robert came home about fifteen minutes after I did, and he had the most guilty look on his face that I have ever seen. Needless to say we didn't talk much last night.
That was the problem. I didn't know how to talk to him about this. We have had the perfect marriage up until now. We have never been out of sorts or upset with one another. I know that we have to talk, I just don't know how to start the conversation. I can't just tap him on the shoulder and ask him if he's been sleeping with someone else, can I?
Damn it, I really didn't want to go there this evening but I didn't see any way out of it. We had made this commitment at our birthday party. Tom would probably find some excuse to get close and bump or rub against my ass and ... and ... That's it! I can make this work and I know just how to go about it. If Robert, Bobby boy, Casanova thinks he has the market cornered on fooling around, well, he has another think coming. I'll just make this little party work for me tonight.
*****
Saturday, 3:00 PM
Wow, I was thinking, nothing is as good as a long, hot shower to make the body feel better. Just standing there, soaking up the heat, breathing the hot moist air in and out of my lungs. It's so relaxing. Too bad it doesn't work as well on the mind. I've been in here for thirty minutes and my fingers are starting to wrinkle. Time to get out. I toweled off and went into the bedroom. There she sat at the vanity, in a medium powder blue thong and bra. Bra hell, it was one of those support only things that only covered the bottoms of her tits. The damn thing didn't even cover her nipples. What in the hell was she thinking?
"Uh, honey, is that what you're wearing this evening?"
"This, and that dress laying on the bed. Why?"
"Well I, oh, never mind."
Dress? Dress on the bed? That dress on the bed. No, not that dress on the bed. A full skirt bottom that stopped four inches above her knees, and would flair straight out with even a slow twirl. A tight waist, and the top was low enough to show the upper third of her breast, a billowy top that if she bent over slightly, you could see almost all the way down to her belly button. That dress, that thin light blue cotton dress, the one she wore when we were on our honeymoon at that little private cabin at the lake. The one she said she could only wear for me. The one she could never wear in public because it showed too much. I remember seeing her standing in the doorway of that cabin, the sun behind her, and she was right. It did show too much. I could see right through it.
Now what? Am I going to suddenly get lucky tonight? She must have been watching the play of emotions crossing my face because when I turned back to her, she was sitting sideways on the chair looking at me, and said:
"This is comfortable to wear. Would you rather I put something else on? Maybe something red? I hear you've taken an interest in red lately. Now get dressed, or we will be late."
