My thanks to "Marie-Terese" for her assistance with the woman's point of view and to Willy B for his patience in editing.
*
"Dianne, are you and your husband having problems?"
The question came out of the blue and, for a moment, I was unsure how to respond.
"What do you mean problems? I guess that we have the normal problems all married couples have. Why?"
My co-worker looked away, concentrating on her hands while she made up her mind whether to continue or not. The decision made she went on.
"Look I don't know how to tell you this; you know that my hubby took me away last weekend for our anniversary. Well I'm sure I saw your husband in the same hotel and he was staying there with another woman."
"What! Are you sure? It couldn't have been, he would never do anything like that to me. You must be mistaken."
"Well I could be I suppose, but it sure looked like him. If it wasn't him he must have an identical double. We saw them both, all lovey dovey, a few times up close and it sure looked like your husband."
Mark had been away last weekend, a fishing trip with his buddies, so he had said. Now it seems that he had been fishing for a bit on the side and it sure looked like he had caught one.
I wanted to cry, scream and rip his throat out, all at the same time. How could he do this to me? What was wrong with him that he was willing to throw away seven years with me for a roll in the sack with some whore?
I mumbled my thanks to Jane and returned to my office slumping into the overstuffed chair I had for visitors. Searching my mind for signs that he had been up to no good, I couldn't pinpoint anything. I had heard about the usual signs such as being over attentive and extra loving, but that wasn't Mark. He had been his normal self, caring and helpful. Was that his game? Was he aware of these signs and took care not to show them.
I was totally confused, no it couldn't be my Mark, Jane was right, it had to be someone who looked like him. Still, I had those nagging doubts, what if it was him? How could I be sure? If I asked him he would only deny it. If he was having an affair he would have warned his buddies to cover for him, so there would be no joy there.
Thinking back to Sunday night when he got back, I tried to remember anything that was suspicious. He had come in kissed me on the cheek, grabbed a beer and started to tell me about his weekend. Nothing unusual about that.
He had complained that the fish hadn't been biting. The only ones they caught were under size and had to be thrown back. Now that was unusual, Mark never failed to catch a fish. He is an excellent fisherman and he knows that river like the back of his hand. He has fished it man and boy since his father put his first fishing rod into his hand when he was six.
Still he might be telling the truth. How could I find out?
I decided to ring one of his friend's wives about the upcoming school fete and during the discussion I would ask about the fish he had caught. Yes that's what I'd do.
The phone almost rang out before Emily answered, just as I was about to hang up.
"Hi Emily? Dianne Andrews, how are you?"
The first part of our conversation was the normal things, kids, school, and sales at the mall. Not wanting to appear too anxious I let this drag on for twenty minutes before I got to the part that I had really called her for. I couldn't just come straight out and ask her, that would just make her suspicious and it would get back to Mark via her husband.
"Emily, do you have any good recipes for trout? I'm getting a little tired of the usual ways like baking and grilling and I wanted something a little more exotic. How did you cook the fish Dave brought home on Sunday?"
I waited with bated breath while Emily yelled at her kids to be quiet, telling them she was on the phone.
"Sorry Dianne. Fish recipes hmm!! Well Dave isn't very adventurous when it comes to food so I stick to the tried and true recipes. The fish he caught last weekend are still in the freezer I hadn't planned on cooking them until later in the week or I might do them on the barbeque at the weekend."
As she continued my mind drifted off in a different direction. The bastard had lied to me, the others had caught fish but he hadn't. Why? Because he hadn't been fishing he had been out fucking some trollop. Well when I got finished with him his bait wouldn't be worth much.
"Dianne? Dianne? Are you still there?"
Emily's urgent call brought me back to the present and I answered her through the tears that had started to fall.
"Yes I'm here. I'm sorry the washing machine is playing up, I have to run. I'll call you later. Thanks for the tips. Bye."
My first instinct was to confront him, but the more I thought about it the more I realized I had no real proof. He'd lie his way out of it and be on his guard. I needed more evidence.
That night Mark seemed withdrawn as we sat and ate dinner. He complimented me for an excellent meal but seemed to have no life in him. When I tried to talk, he answered in single sentences and it was obvious that he had other things on his mind. I hoped it was guilt and it was ripping him apart inside, the way it was me.
Later we sat and watched television for a while before he made a move.
"I'm off to bed. I'm not feeling the best and I think I'll get an early night. Are you coming up now?"
:No. I think I'll watch a little more of this show. The girls at work say it is well worth watching so I thought I'd give it a go. I'll be up later. Goodnight."
Mark leaned over to kiss me but I turned my head and his lips landed on my cheek. His surprised look was enough warning that I had to come up with something quick.
"Sorry honey, I don't want to catch what you have. I can't afford to get sick right now with the Michael account happening. Sweet dreams."
My imagination was working overtime. There was no way I was going to kiss him after he had cheated on me. I knew how much Mark loved to eat my pussy; he'd do it for hours. I could see, in my minds eye, him doing the same to his lover. The very thought made me want to vomit.
I sat through a trashy sit com as I waited for him to go to sleep. Finally after an hour I tiptoed up to our room and quietly looked in on him.
His six foot two frame only just fitted into our queen sized bed and his head sat on the rumpled pillow, pushed almost up to the headboard. His hair was a wet mass and stuck to his head and face like a blond skull cap. He had been sweating heavily and his body glistened with his sweat. His sleep must have been restless as the sheets lay in a tangled pile on his side of the bed.
Mark was usually a quiet sleeper and I wondered if his disturbed sleep was due to his guilty conscience or was he dreaming of her. Damn him!!!
Mark always slept in the nude, and tonight was no different. Laying on his back his body was open fully to my gaze and I looked at him in a new light. I loved this man with all my heart and now I might lose him. Was that what I wanted? Maybe it was a one time affair and he'd never cheat again. Did I really want to go through with my plan? I had to, I had to know. No matter how painful it might be or what the consequences were I had to find out.
Mark was my first true love and the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. The man I wanted to father my children. How could he put all that at risk?
Quietly I picked up his wallet from the bedside table and quickly checked it for evidence. What I expected to find was an address, phone number or even some condoms. When we were dating Mark always had his supply in his wallet. I'd quickly realized that using a condom wasn't for me so I'd gone on the pill and he hadn't needed them since. If there were any that would be another nail in the lid of our marital coffin.
His wallet and pants pockets were clean of any evidence, so where else could I check?
His briefcase and car were next and each produced the same sterile results. By now it had become almost like a game. Each time I came up empty handed I would get this disappointed feeling like I had lost the game. Next I checked his email account on our home computer and when that came up clean I tried his cell phone. No luck there either.
I was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee trying to work out what my next move would be. In my mind he was as guilty as sin, and lack of evidence didn't mean a damn thing. I was already wired by the excitement of what I was involved in and the coffee just added to my hyper state of mind.
I mused over what I had done so far and decided that he wasn't smart enough not to have left some evidence of his cheating, I just had to find it.
Suddenly it hit me, I knew where it would be, in his fishing gear of course. He knew I never fooled with his fishing gear for fear of breaking something, besides I had no interest in fishing.
In the garage I rummaged around checking his tackle box and other accessories with the same luck. All I got was a couple of hook sticks in my fingers, which only made me madder at him. I was almost ready to give up when I spotted his fishing jacket hanging on a hook behind the side door.
Taking more care this time so as not to stab myself I went through the pockets and finally found what I was looking for. A packet of complimentary matches from the Hyatt hotel in Carlton, a small town about two hours drive time from here. In my state of mind that was enough evidence to convict and hang him. We'd never been to that particular hotel together and I couldn't think of a reasonable explanation for him having been there alone. Let's see him get out of this.
As it sank into to my brain that he really had cheated the real pain started. I spent the next two hours alternating between anger, frustration and humiliation. I wanted to rush upstairs, drag him from our bed and confront him. No that wasn't enough, I wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt me. I needed to see him suffer the same sort of pain and anguish that I was feeling. As I pondered my next move a small gem of an idea crept into my brain and slowly took form. By the time I was ready to go to bed I had almost completed my plan of attack. I was going to get revenge on this bastard.
I would go out and fuck someone then bring the evidence back home to Mark. I'd show him that two can play at this game.
The trouble was, I still loved him and the thought of losing him hurt as much as the though of him having an affair. I didn't want to divorce him, although my first reaction had been to kick his ass out into the street.
Finding someone to fuck was easy. At thirty two, I still looked good and the guys in the office still flirted with me. A couple of the sales reps I dealt with hit on me from time to time but, so far I had always rejected them.
Now, I had my pick of a bunch of guys some of whom were real hunks. One young guy in particular, Andy, was something else again. He had most of the girls in the office drooling every time he walked in. He was only twenty-one and just out of university where he had studied under a sports scholarship. Andy is six feet, dark piercing eyes and a buff body. Quiet and unassuming he didn't seem to notice the affect he had on the women around him. He projected an air of innocence that made him all the more attractive.
