Steven settled into the chair in his comfortable study. He took a deep breath and shook the mouse on desk, awakening his computer from sleep mode. His desktop, a photo of he and his wife Paula greeted him as the screen winked on. It was a photo from their 20th wedding anniversary which they had spent in Hawaii. It had been a nice vacation.
Looking at the photo now he tried to remember how he had felt that day last year. He and his wife were both smiling, dressed in loud Hawaiian shirts, with a beautiful beach behind them. Were the smiles real? As he sat here now, they seemed so plastic, so contrived. Even in a tropical paradise, away from all the stress of his job at the law firm, there had been unease between them, and more than a little bickering. They had sex more that week than they had in the six months preceding it, but it still had not been every night. for two people who were barely in their forties, it seemed like they never found time to do it. No, he thought. Time was a very small part of the problem. Energy was also not exactly what was missing; as they worked, exercised, and had hobbies. Interest was what seemed to be missing...on her part.
He had tried to awaken her interest in every way he could but it seemed to make matters worse. She seemed to always have a reason not to do it and no matter what he tried she didn't seem to respond. At times he felt like she was just being nice to him when she did allow him to get on top of her and stick it in, after using the lube in the top drawer of the night stand of course. Without it she was usually dry as sand.
In the previous weeks he had mulled it over in his head. Did she have a chemical imbalance? Weren't women supposed to reach their peak at her age? They were all the other had ever known, married just barely out of high school. Paula was the 4th woman he had ever kissed in his life when they wed. Their first and only son Brian was born only a year later. There had been so much to do always; both of them working, him going to college, her busy with the boy. Still he recalled a time when the two of them had been hot together, when there had been desire.
He moused over the icon on the desktop with a tiny picture of a magnifying glass labeled VIRTUAL-PI. Holding his breath he double clicked. The program opened to a live feed, 16 tiny screens of the hidden cameras all over their home.
Weeks earlier he had detected something strange. She had been buying new clothes, including underwear. He had noticed it in the basement and it was not her usual underwear; the plain color and texture of Hanes which was purely functional. This was fancy underwear, silky and ornamental. It was the kind you wore for a lover.
Alarm bells ringing, he began to notice other things. Even when in direct conversation it seemed like she was somewhere else, her thoughts miles away. She was going out to the gym more.
There was something else too, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was something very subtle; a toilet seat up that he was sure he left down that morning, a man's aftershave in the air, not his own, beads of water in the shower in the afternoon, her hair totally dry.
Whatever was happening was happening in their home.
She had gone to visit her mother upstate for the weekend and he had seized upon the chance; he had the investigator the firm used wire up the house. They installed cameras all lover the place especially the bedroom. Microphones were installed in there as well.
She was gone now, at the gym again, and as he had been since the installation, he clicked back to the morning and began to watch the tape. He saw himself kissing her goodbye in the kitchen as he left for work. She was seated at the table, reading a magazine. He began to fast forward.
His heart was pounding as it always did when he watched. So far he had not seen anything; the past week's footage had shown nothing wrong. He wondered if he was just paranoid. He hoped he was just paranoid.
At around eleven she went up to their room, and began to strip out of her clothes. She put on some of the lacy new underwear she had been buying lately. It was white and silky. She applied her favorite perfume and did her make up. Steven's pulse began to increase.
Maybe there was en explanation. Desperately his mind clutched for one. Perhaps she just wanted to try it on. Women did that sort of thing didn't they? Don't they sometimes just get dressed up for no reason? That could be couldn't it? His mind raced as she put a silk white robe on over the bra and panties (matching their color), and gently cinched the rope in front. She went down stairs to the living room.
She sat on the couch, reading something on her tablet. As she read, her free hand moved over her body, caressing her breasts through the robe. She gently slid her hand between her legs and began to fondle herself.
Steven was bombarded with emotions. His wife had never spoken of masturbation. He felt slightly betrayed she would be doing this while he was at work and tell her she was not in the mood that night. He was also slightly hopeful that maybe this was all that was going on. Maybe she just likes to get all prettied up before she gets herself off, he thought. He had read that somewhere hadn't he? Yes. Women have lots of elaborate rituals like this when they play with themselves. They weren't like men, who could do it just about anywhere and anytime. They need music, bubble baths, and scented candles. Maybe this was not what it had seemed.
On the monitor his wife looked up and towards the door. In the living room there was no audio, but from the other screen he could see the shadow of a figure on the porch. His wife collected herself quickly and went to the door.
She opened it and ushered in a man. He looked to be in his twenties, with short hair, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. His face was scruffy, with a five o'clock shadow. His clothes were baggy but from his arms and face he looked to be strongly built, fit. He was very dark skinned, looking to be of African descent.
Steve felt the last of his hope that his wife was not cheating on him crushed underfoot as the man greeted his wife with a deep kiss, pulling her close to him by her waist. His wife wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and kissed back passionately, her body melding to him. His stomach sank. He felt his face flush beet red as the black man's hands wandered down to his wife's shapely ass and squeezed.
