Author's Notes:
1) All characters engaging in sexual activities are at least 18 Y.O..
2) I like description and dialogue - so unless noted sexual activity is MOSTLY at the end.
3) I utilise U.K. and U.S. spelling, along with foreign to U.S. words as well.
4) Real People/Places/Things will be notated by an asterisk (*) look 'em up! (if U wanna).
5) Said real People/Places/Things may be anachronistic (think Baz Luhrman's Moulin Rogue soundtrack).
6) Said real People/Places/Things are mainly in 'SoCal' or 'Sin City' ("Vegas Bay-Bay!") - where I'm from/where I live.
7) To paraphrase Doctor Leonard Horatio 'Bones' McCoy - "I'm a straight white male writer, NOT a doctor or lawyer or whatever..." although I do minimal Googling to maintain a 'somewhat realistic' story (where applicable).
8) Denys Patrique is pronounced 'Den-is Pat-rick'
9) Quay is pronounced 'cay'
Now, I love a great BTB story buuut I also enjoy a good semi-happy ending.
-Also no sex, sorry about that.
'That is all'
-Chapter One-
Martin 'Marty' Taylore was jolted awake by an unknown ring tone coming from his phone 'Lipstick*' by Jedward*, how did this annoying earworm get on his phone? He couldn't find it in time, when he did find 'his' phone it was actually his wife Robin's (she sometimes grabbed his by mistake in the dark as his phone was black and hers was black and olive green camouflage) he looked at the name Aran John the pastry chef who she would meet every fortnight at his and his wife Janet Katherine 'Kitty' (nee O'Connell) pub 'Kitty's Kafe' - so he hit the odd message notification...and was stunned by the message he read.
"Hey love, where are you? I'm at Gate C at Heathrow waiting for you -- the flight to Cardiff leaves in an hour, and stop by the Chemist's for a pack of condoms for Pontypridd*."
"Condoms" he asked himself..."what the hell" was the next thing that popped into his mind -- and then you could have knocked him over with a feather, she was fucking him. He was astounded by the revelation -- that his bride of just 18 months was shagging her married pastry mentor and he was making a new erotic dessert Crème de Aran.
He began to explore her phone where he found nothing out of the ordinary (checked her text messages -- nothing) but then he accidentally found a 'hidden' text message app filled with hundreds of message from the cretin going back five months after arriving in England to learn regional specialties, their home base was a flat on the second floor in Islington and Monday to Thursday they attended classes in Brixton, with Friday being their set day to start their 3 day weekend -- but every fortnight on Friday to Sunday he went to Blackpool to work on his cooking focus at The Viking Pub (owned by Teri Palin) while she went to Cardiff to 'Kitty's Kafe' a traditional Norwegian café located off of Roald Dahl Plass in the Mermaid Quay shopping complex to supplement her baking knowledge.
The messages started out in a flirtatious way, but slowly descended into lust filled exchanges as the months went on - by the fourth month they had started taking a trip to Pontypridd on the second day of her 'instruction' to have a physical affair, he was livid. He used his computer skills learned at the hand of Eric J. Percy and figured out a hack to get the messages copied to a MicroSD card and put it in the one place she would never look his first U.K. edition of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy...she HATED comedy Sci-Fi, so she never saw the humour in their rental property.
"Well so long and thanks for all the puff pastries" he thought as he pondered how to end this farce now -- when suddenly her phone rang again, this time it was his phone so he picked up...
"Let me guess, wrong phone dear?" He sneeringly asked her.
"Yes Marty, I did indeed grab your phone by accident did I miss any calls?"
"Yes, yes you did. I was in the loo and I heard that gawd awful Jedward shite and saw that Aran had called but he didn't leave a voice mail."
Robin sighed inaudibly, at least Marty didn't find the hidden message app, "well obviously it's too late for you to bring me my phone but just set up a forwarding thing so that any calls from Kitty's Kafe or Aran or Janet come to your phone and then we'll switch phones when you meet me Monday morning at Heathrow."
He would do no such thing "sounds like a plan dear -- so what's cooking for this weekend?" he asked as he knows it pisses her off to no end and did it only occasionally to 'rib' her and now knowing what he did about her infidelity he was going to ramp it up.
"You know full well, no cooking here honey, only baking."
"I know dear just fucking with ya, but be sure to say 'hi' to Aran and his LOVELY WIFE Janet and her parents if they pop in after CHURCH on SUNDAY for me and call me tonight before you crash so we can have vidsex."
"Yes, you horndog just like every Friday and Saturday" They did not do this Sunday nights as she needed to get to bed to catch an early flight to London.- only wishing each other goodnight by calling each other.
Marty called the Viking Pub and talked to Teri Palin the owner and said he would have to miss this weekend, apologized and said he would return in a fortnight. He would have to wait until at least midnight local time to call his best friend and attorney Hector D. Childers III in Bellflower (SoCal)* to discuss the path to his divorce. He couldn't stand a cheating spouse his own parents divorced after one day Angela came home and caught their dad in bed with a neighbour when she was a senior at Montebello High School*
He was hoping to break the cycle of multiple marriages on his dad's side of the family by emulating his maternal grandparent's marriage of over sixty years, but alas and alack it was not meant to be - then to make himself feel a bit better he headed to The White Salmon pub owned by his friend Jeltz Denu for some fish fingers and custard and three pints of Taunton Blackthorn Dry Fermented Cider*.
Marty decided to video call Hector instead of calling on Robin's phone.
"H.D.C. III here what's up Marty?"
"Bad gnus brohiem, Robin decided that she wanted somebody else to fill her puff pastry."
"Whaat! She was so down to follow your plan for being married for at least seventy-five years, wha' happen?"
"Well apparently she decided to get a fresh supply of Crème de Aran"
"Huh?"
"Aran John is the married co-owner of the place where she is learning about local pastries and they've been getting together biblically for the last two months every two weeks on Sunday in Pontypridd, Wales instead of a second day at their pub in Cardiff."
"Any proof?"
"Only about a metric butt tonne of messages from a hidden message app. on her phone, I'll load them to my Drop Box account and you can d/l them from there -- the username is D.N.A. 49 and the password is 'forty-two'."
"Why the Drop Box?"
It's where I store my digital Douglas Adams goodies."
"Oh yeah, she doesn't like his stuff does she."
"No, no she doesn't -- and that should have been a sign right there, hell even a Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal* would have sussed that out."
"Well at least it's still early in the marriage and you have those air tight prenup rules."
"True, true that duderino and the fun thing is his in-laws are strict by the book Roman Catholics and severely frown upon 'extra marital activities."
"I'll upload the files later on today or tomorrow, so you can get the ball rolling on the divorce, have a good day Heck."
"And you try to have a better one Marty."
Marty had made some wise investments in high school after his 10th grade pre-algebra teacher John Spangler had his students 'play buy' real stocks and graph out their progress...he did so well he decided to actually ask for that stock for X-Mas that year and by time he graduated he had enough money to pay for college and have money left over. But when he met Robin in a free adult cooking class he decided to switch to the culinary school she was going to attended (Giuntini and Rogers) and when they became 'exclusive' he offered to pay her tuition.
One of the first things they talked about when getting monogamous was the fact he was infertile due to a childhood illness and that after 5 years of opening their gastropub (to be called "Brixton Café) located near the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel* they would talk about adoption.
When Marty told Heck about his impending nuptials he recommended a good prenup to be written by his Tia Lupe, it included a part about provable marital infidelity which would automatically require her to pay back her school tuition and all related expenses to establishing their gastropub, leaving her with only what she came into the relationship.
At first she rejected the prenup but he told her that divorce ran in his dad's family and wanted to be safe rather than sorry -- so three weeks after, he formally proposed to her on the 1st night of Halloween Haunt* at Knott's Berry Farm* with a New Year's Eve wedding planned.
--Chapter Two--
Monday morning Marty picked up Robin from Heathrow and they decided to get lunch at a Nandos* enroute home.
"Did you have fun at The Viking?"
"Yes, and how was cooking with Aran?"
"You know it's not cooking you philistine."
"I know, I just like to pull your chain."
"Well, it would have gone better but I couldn't contact some people over there -- so it was a bit rough."
"Oh yeah, here's your phone."
"And here's yours"
" Let's eat"
After some very nice, very spicy chicken she excused herself and took her phone with her to the loo to check her message app, it was all fine, then she washed her hands and headed back to the table.
"Let's finish our Irn Brus* and head home, I need a short nap." She said.
This was not unusual as he figured since they started hooking up two months ago (a sign he ignored) this was a fortnightly occurrence, "that's good; I'll get our tools ready."
"You're great hon," as she gave him a peck on the lips as they exited Nandos.
Arriving home she gave him another kiss (but this time less chaste) as they got into the house before she headed to their bedroom. An hour later after getting their cooking tools together he decided to check her purse and in a small clutch (which he had never seen before) he found a trio of Lelo Hex Condoms* with a receipt from a Chemist in Pontypridd. Marty was pissed...he paid for everything so that they could open their dream gastropub and in a fit of anger he took a sewing needle and pierced the lot of them, replaced them in the clutch returning it to her purse and went to take a shower.
The following days it was hard for him to be any kind of Zen, knowing what he knew - so he was miserable but decided to tell her about Angela's call the previous Friday.
"Hey hon, I got an interesting offer for us from my sis."
"What is it?
"Her boss at Misery Nightclub in Down Town Las Vegas - Denys Patrique, wants to open a Goth Gastro called 'Dead by Dawn'. I figure we run it for five years and then open Brixton Café."
"What about kids dear?"
"Well how about we forgo the five year anniversary of Brixton and when we get out of Vegas we talk about it more?"
"Let me sleep on it, let's skip class tomorrow and have a day to ourselves?"
"Excellent idea, let's make it a four day London weekend, and we'll catch the touring Rocky Horror Show at The Royal Court Theatre* and at midnight Sat go to The Phoenix Cinema* see the film."
"Awesome hon, can we dress up for the movie?"
"Another excellent idea, we'll hit up the Camden Market Place* tomorrow since we left our gear in SoCal.
This would be one of the few 'good' weekends before their marriage disintegrated.
That same evening she did agree to move to Las Vegas.
The next Friday he said good bye to her at Heathrow as she boarded the plane to see her Irish lover.
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