The Argument

It was a terrible scandal and the talk of their little suburban town. The mayor's wife, a ravishing beauty fifteen years younger than he, had been having a torrid love affair with the handsome, married police chief of an adjacent town for the past five years. The news had just broken into the open, and the tabloid press and social media were awash with lurid tales and racy photographs documenting the adulterous couple's illicit passion. The gossip grapevine was having a heyday.

Tom and Jane were enjoying an evening glass of wine while their daughters, age eight and nine, worked on their evening homework before supper. Like everyone else in town the two adults were tee-heeing over the scandalous pictures posted on social media while keeping a sharp eye out that their daughters didn't walk in and catch them eyeing such juicy material.

Between giggles, Jane gasped, "My God, I would just die if nudies of me were posted. What could I say to you, the children, or our friends? Even worse, what about my Momma!"

Tom smiled, "Well, I would certainly hope I would be in the pictures with you and not some new hunka-hunka of burning love! Heaven knows, they certainly seem to be enjoying themselves."

Jane exclaimed, "Oh, look at that one! Jeez, she certainly is in the throes of it there."

Tom nodded and observed, "The wanton wife is always a more titillating story than the hustling husband so she is getting the lion's share of the coverage and comments."

Jane exclaimed hotly, "That just isn't fair. It takes one of each to have an affair. I feel sorry for her."

Tom continued ponderously, "It may be unfair, but that is the way society works. Of course, their spouses must have known some kind of hanky panky was up. A husband would sense if his wife was screwing another guy. She couldn't hide it. Maybe for a little while, certainly not for five years."

Jane looked askance at Tom and retorted, "She certainly could have. If I wanted to have an affair, you would never even suspect, provided of course, I was careful and didn't do anything stupid."

Tom shook his head decisively, "No you couldn't. I would catch on; a woman can't hide a thing like that. You would never get away with it."

"Could too!" was Jane's defiant reply.

"Nah, I'd catch you. A guy might get away with it, but not a woman. Guys travel for business and have more opportunity at work to run across someone to play around with, even in these modern days. "

Jane replied hotly, "What are you talking about? Most women work now and even if they stay home part- or full-time, you guys are holed up at work or traveling. You better believe that offers an enterprising wife ample opportunity to enjoy a little dalliance."

The discussion progressed, and the initially good natured discussion hardened into rigid, uncompromising positions as neither Tom nor Jane had yet mastered the fine art of compromise or tolerance of an opposing viewpoint.

Both had been highly competitive athletes in high school and college, she in track and field, and he in baseball and basketball. Jane just missed making the Olympic team. Bill was a solid college player; he just wasn't good enough to be one of the 2% who go pro.

Both were also successful in business. Today Bill was a comfortable six-figure corporate executive while she had become a highly successful technocrat mastering applications of artificial intelligence to industrial processes. With the arrival of the children, Jane had shifted to part-time consulting work from home which left ample time for family and personal pursuits. She remained in steady demand as an expert consultant and brought in a very comfortable second income while working about half time.

Finally, the stubborn couple's increasingly acrimonious debate resulted in a silly challenge.

Jane snapped, "If I was having an affair, you would just be one clueless puppy puttering around while I enjoyed myself behind your back."

Tom grunted his response, "Oh, don't be so stupid. I'd nail your cheating ass in no time."

"Okay, wise guy," Jane snorted, "We will each have one month where we are free to have an affair, and we'll see who can catch who. I'll even let you go first. It's January so you get February, and I'll take March. Bet I'll burn you within a week. It's Monday today so you can start Friday the first."

Tom laughed, "This is the damn foolest contest I've ever heard of. But sure, I'm game, if you are. But you gotta catch the other one with real facts like who, what, and where. No suspicion without proof counts, and no using a PI to do your snooping for you."

'Done, but once caught, your permission to cheat is revoked on the spot."

The arrival of two hungry daughters looking for supper ended the snippy discussion and the ribald perusal of the racy online photos and salacious gossip.

Sunday afternoon, 3 February, Tom played squash at the Club as he often did returning home at 5:30 to find Jane at the living room bar making Manhattans for them. Manhattans were special treats for them reserved for special occasions. Tom pulled up a stool and sat down.

He exclaimed, "What's up; I can certainly use one of those. Thanks."

Jane finished off the Manhattans with a vigorous shake that made her boobs shiver enticingly, strained the shaker contents into two glasses, and dropped a brandied cherry in each.

She eased a full drink in front of Tom and exclaimed with a smile and a flourish of her hand "Voila, and you are busted, Honey!"

Tom gaped at her and stuttered, "What? What do you mean busted?"

Jane grinned wickedly and purred, "Tsk, tsk, naughty boy. Let's see, you took Brandy to lunch on Friday, and you two went to room 344 in the old Taylor Hotel afterwards for an hour. Then on Saturday, when you told me you were going to play golf, you met her again at the Taylor where you had room 511. This time you two were doing the bedsheet tango for over two hours. Bet Brandy was fun, but you lose. No more sanctioned shenanigans for you! You didn't even make it a week," she chortled.

Tom shook his head ruefully, "Damn! Friday you were across town doing a luncheon seminar, and Saturday you were with the girls at some Girl Scouty thing-a-ma-bob. How did you figure it out?"

Jane just grinned like the cat who ate the canary and sipped her Manhattan.

"Come on, out with it Sherlock. You cheated and used a PI, didn't you?"

Jane laughed merrily; she was actually dying to brag on her sleuthing success. "Nope. All fair and square. Ok, last New Years Eve party, when everyone was running around kissing everybody at midnight, I was kissing your boss and saw your kiss with Brandy. Uhm, uhm, there was some chemistry there; think it shocked you both."

Tom blushed and started, "It was just the champagne ..."

Jane waved for him to be quiet, "Hush, there is nothing wrong with a little chemistry between folks; it's what makes the world go around. What you do with that chemistry, however, is where the hurricanes brew."

Jane continued, "You have been out of the dating game now for a spell." She smiled compassionately patting his arm, "And you were never that smooth with the girls anyway."

"Gee, thanks. I am caught with my pants down in three days, and now you are mangling my ego to boot!"

Jane waved her hand in dismissal and went on, "Judging from the New Year's Eve kiss, I figured you could pretty easily get your nerve up to proposition Brandy. She's a good twenty years younger than her husband and is certainly a sexy little thing. Did you know she was a professional tango dancer in Buenos Aires? That is where she met her husband."

Tom grunted, "Yeah, she told me that."

Jane went on, "Brandy is a very well-kept woman and appreciative of her status as a woman of pampered leisure. However, with the difference in her and her husband's ages, I suspect that little Argentine fire cracker's libido is out of sync with her husband's. The rumor among the wives is that she enjoys a little latitude from her husband on such matters, and she is reputed to take full advantage of it. I figured Brandy would be receptive to your proposition and was a good bet for your first try.

"I did a little research. On Friday mornings, Brandy has a massage and wrap treatment in the gym and spa that is on the first floor of your office building. During the week you often use the same gym and know her from there as well as at the Club. Lunch afterwards with you would be easy and convenient, and the Taylor Hotel is two blocks from your office, serves a nice lunch, and could provide the bed needed to consummate an affair."

Jane laughed warmly, "And I'll bet while you were at lunch, Brandy asked you to bed before you got your nerve up to ask her."

Tom blushed but didn't answer.

Jane gave him a playful punch in the arm, "I knew it!"

She continued while chuckling at her husband's discomfiture, "It so happens that my friend Monica's daughter-in-law is in charge of guest services at the Taylor. It was a piece of cake to email your photo to the daughter-in-law and ask her to let me know if you showed up with another woman."

Jane chortled, "Mercy, that girl got into the game. She texted me as soon as you arrived; I even know what you each had for lunch. She followed up with photos of you and Brandy at lunch and getting in the elevator, and then coming out. There is a clock right over the elevator doors so I even have the times you two were fooling around to the minute."

Tom sighed, 'Damn that little busybody. But that was a mighty long shot guessing Brandy and the Taylor Hotel. You just got lucky."

Jane shook her head, "Not really. I did my research and used logic. I considered other possible women, but Brandy was easily the leading candidate. Also, I had several chats with your secretary. Just fishing for information, where you were, travel schedule, and things like that. She is a lovely girl and a delightful gossip. You would be amazed how much she knows about what goes on around there."

And so Jane won the first part of the bet with ease. The rest of February shot by with a myriad of meetings, appointments, school events, mundane chores, and social gatherings. The other half of the bet remained unremarked upon, and conscious awareness of it was slowly buried under the debris of day-to-day life.

The first weekend of March was their Club's big spring golf tournament and a must for an avid player like Tom. Sunday, 3 March, Tom rolled in from his final game shortly before six.

Jane was at their bar again mixing Manhattans for them. She was barefoot and dressed in very short shorts and a tight, v-necked pullover without a bra. It was a very sexy look she would soon have to abandon as the girls got older and discovered boys. They would be hard enough to control and guide through their adolescence without their mother providing an oversexed example for them to copy.

She called out to Tom as he came in the front door, "How did you do? I have a Manhattan almost ready for you."

Tom came over and whistled appreciatively, "Wow, you look hot tonight."

Jane smiled coyly, "Why, thank you, Dear. So, did you play well?"

Tom sighed replying, "Oh, it was just one of those weekends. My drives were really great, but my chipping game was lousy. My putting only so-so. Came in eighteenth overall for the weekend." He grimaced in frustration saying, "I had been hoping to break into the top ten this year."

Jane strained the Manhattans into their glasses and added a brandied cherry to each, saying, "I am so sorry, Honey. I know you had your heart set on doing well this year. Still, that's not bad out of almost a hundred players."

She sidled up against him as he stood at the end of the bar, and she purred as she handed him his drink, "Here Honey, try this. It should improve your mood."

Jane smiled with satisfaction as her husband's nose flared and his eyes widened with realization as he caught a whiff of the tangy, cedary men's cologne drifting from his wife.

Tom exploded, "Oh my God, it is March. The bet. You didn't really do it, did you?"

Jane giggled as she picked up her drink and took a sip. She batted her eyes and cood innocently, "Who me?" and then laughed, "What do you think? We do have a bet."

Tom spluttered, "Come on, fess up. Really? Who with?"

"Well, it turns out our girls were both at Mary Beth's for a sleepover Saturday night. My husband played golf all day yesterday and today. Uhm, that left me all alone in this big house for a long quiet afternoon and again today until after lunch when I picked up the girls."

Jane dipped her head coyly and whispered throatily, "No telling what I might have done to amuse myself, while I sat here all alone and bored."

"Damn, come on spill the beans; I gotta know. Did you really do it, or are you pulling my leg?"

Jane laughed as she walked over to the bar refrigerator. "If I really did it, as you say, I don't have to tell you anything. You have to catch me to find out for sure. I certainly wouldn't tell you with whom, as I may not be through with him yet. Suffice it to say, someone you know may be poaching in your private preserve while your back is turned."

Tom gaped at his wife, unsure what to say at this point

Jane hung a calendar that showed February and March on the bar refrigerator. She opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet with gold stars. "I have been using these stars for the girls' schoolwork, but I think I have found a more interesting adult use for them." She stuck a gold star on Friday, 1 February and another on 2 February. "There, that is for your steamy little trysts with Brandy last month."

She stuck one star on 2 March and another on 3 March. "That is for what I might have done yesterday and today." She turned back to face her husband with a triumphant grin, "You didn't have a clue did you?"

Tom grimaced and shook his head without replying. He was certain his willful, stiff-necked but sexy wife had indeed done the naughty deed.

Jane smiled smugly and took a sip of her drink. She had bought a small bottle of the same men's cologne as her lover used on his visits. She applied a few dabs just before Tom returned to be sure he would catch the poacher's scent. It was a wickedly fun way to let her husband discover the game was afoot.

She exclaimed waving nonchalantly at the calendar, "Look at that, we are all tied up, and I still have all of March to go! Each Sunday at happy hour I'll fix you a Manhattan and give you a report on my weekly score, just like tonight. Or at least I will, until you catch me." She jutted her chin out defiantly and uttered challengingly, "If you can."

Further discussion was preempted by the arrival of the two daughters asking when supper would be ready. Jane shooed them into the kitchen, "Wash your hands and set the table while I put the spaghetti noodles on and the rolls in the oven. When you finish setting the table, get the salads from the fridge. Tom, I have the spaghetti meat sauce already done. Why don't you pour us some wine. I bought us a really exceptional bottle of Chianti Classico Riserva last week. You know, something to celebrate our tie score."

Tom was flummoxed by his wife's blitzkrieg opening sally. It had caught him flatfooted. But no more, he already had a plan to turn the tables on her.

Monday morning while Jane was in the shower, he downloaded and activated a phone tracking app on her cell phone; he knew her pin as she knew his. A quick scan of texts and the phone call log revealed nothing incriminating. The app would keep him posted on future texts and phone calls as well as Jane's phone location. Tom smiled to himself, knowing he would have Jane lassoed and hogtied in short order.

The week passed quietly. Jane's phone made no inappropriate trips. It traveled to the grocery store, to a client's office, to school, to the gym, and so forth.; nothing untoward. There were no funny texts or calls from anyone suspicious. Since Jane had previously entertained her lover at the house, Tom made daily random stops back by the house when the phone said Jane was home. Such forays would hinder any poaching male from stalking his wife on the home range while Tom worked at the office.

Jane knew exactly what he was up to. She would just give him a sardonic grin and say something sassy like, "My pants are still on - for now!."

Tom concluded Jane had behaved herself all week so the weekend must be the rendevous with her lover. Fair enough, he had a plan for that too.

Saturday morning Tom left for his previously scheduled golf game at the Club at 8:15. He had actually canceled his game earlier in the week and now drove to the far side of the grassy park two blocks from the house. With a pair of binoculars, he could watch across the park and down the street to observe their house with little chance of discovery by Jane. With the girls at home this weekend, Jane had to have a plan for them in order to rendevous with her lover either at the house or elsewhere. Whatever she did, he could keep an eye on her. He was enjoying trying to decide how best to spring the trap when he caught Jane and her mystery lover together.

Sure enough, at 8:45 Tracy strolled down the sidewalk, knocked at the front door, and entered. Tracy was their favorite 16-year old baby sitter. Their two daughters worshiped the older girl, and Tracy was a great role model for them. At the moment she had two broken fingers suffered in a volleyball game. That made it easier to schedule her without conflicting with practice and games and the myriad other activities of a popular teenager.

Shortly afterward, the garage door popped open, and Jane shot out in her sporty, red Audi A-4. Tom pulled his less visually flashy, gray BMW out into the street staying several blocks behind his wife. With the phone tracker telling him where she was, he didn't really need to keep her in sight, but drifted along sometimes with her barely in sight and sometimes not.

Jane shot over to the I-10 and took it towards San Antonio and downtown. Tom thought to himself, "Some nice places down by the River Walk that she likes. So maybe the little lady is planning to get laid in style today. I don't normally get back from golf until mid-afternoon so she thinks she has plenty of time to amuse herself with her lover. I am really going to enjoy bursting her bubble."

There was some kind of festival downtown, and traffic was heavy. The little red Audi kept disappearing behind trucks, SUVs, and the like. Tom wasn't worried about losing her though because the phone tracker app gave away her location at any given moment. Jane kept her phone with her always so it would accompany her to meet her lover. He had her cheating little ass as good as nailed.

Well, he wasn't worried that is, until the phone tracker signal went blank. Damn, what a time for the electronics to fail him. He sped up weaving through the traffic closing the distance between his BMW and her Audi. He gave a sigh of relief as he maneuvered to five cars behind her. They were in the left hand lane of the four crowded lanes, and traffic was whipping along at 75-80 mph.

Suddenly, Jane pulled into a small gap between two trucks and disappeared from view. Tom found a hole and frantically maneuvered over two lanes of traffic to the accompaniment of angry horns as he tried to catch a glimpse of Jane. There she was all the way in the rightmost lane pulling onto the I-410 exit ramp. Between him and the exit was an unbroken lane of fast-moving cars. He had no hope of following her.

The Audi's horn tooted, and a hand waved gayly from the driver's side window as Jane shot out of sight. She had given him the slip and was off to meet her adulterous lover. His wife was proving a formidable opponent so he had better get to work coming up with a better plan. Damn, she was going to rub it in at Sunday Happy Hour again, but that will be the last time!