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Author's Note: This is a quick one about Brad and Mandy. Brad found out his wife was cheating on him, so he took appropriate steps. This is the story of his revenge.
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Brad came in close behind his wife and slipped a hand around her slim waist. Amanda leaned back into him, her hands pausing in the sink where she was prewashing the dinner dishes. He nuzzled his trim beard into her neck and kissed her gently as she cooed.
"Do you trust me, Mandy?"
"Of course! Why would you ask that?"
"Because I want to try something new tonight. In the bedroom." The place where sex doesn't happen anymore, he didn't say out loud. He could feel her tense up. She went back to scrubbing the plate, her elbow poking him in the belly to push him gently away. Her subtle techniques to make space between them were now so incredibly obvious to him.
"I'm sorry, Brad, I'm just..." She let it trail off, hoping the previous hundred denials would fill in the blanks.
"Tired?" One of her many excuses.
"Yeah! It's been a long day and I really need to relax."
"That's perfect. I don't need you to do a thing. You can relax, completely, the whole time."
"I mean... I guess a backrub would be nice, but..."
"Please, Mandy. We need this." Amanda set the plate in the dishwasher, rinsed her hands, and pulled a towel off the hook. She turned and started to dry her hands, forcing some space between herself and her husband of six years, almost defensively. He could see annoyance cross her lovely face for a moment but she quickly had herself under control.
"Brad, I'm not in the mood." You could hear the period at the end of her sentence. He kept his voice gentle and loving, as best he could.
"It's been a long time since you were in the mood, honey. It's becoming a problem." No, it was a problem long ago.
"I know, and I'm sorry, but I've got... I need to be in a certain frame of mind, and I can't get there with all the stress and pressure in my life right now. My job, the credit card, the housework, the car, my family and the, the... the air conditioner! Everything!" She threw her hands up theatrically as if the entire universe was set against her being intimate with her husband and she was simply powerless in the matter. Brad kept his face calm, not displaying his displeasure.
The AC was down for all of twenty hours last month before the tech could get it repaired, free of charge due to the warranty, and Brad had handled it all. It wasn't even terribly warm that night. The credit card was just a fluke lost payment, easily settled with a phone call and no late fee. The car had a flat two months ago, which Brad fixed with no inconvenience to Amanda. Just like all of her excuses, it was easily discarded as nonsense once the pattern was visible.
"That is a lot," he said. A lot of bullshit. "I understand. But hear me out."
"No, Brad. I'm sorry, but no." She crossed her arms under her breasts and tried to look resolved. Her foot was down. He hung his head for a moment, as if in defeat. Then he put a hand into his denim pocket and pulled out a weathered scrap of paper. He held it in his hands tenderly for a moment, then handed it to his wife.
"You gave me this on our wedding day. Part of a little packet of love coupons." It was thick white cardstock paper with bright red calligraphy proclaiming 'SEX! Anytime! Anywhere!' Amanda took it, read it carefully as she brushed her fingertips across the surface, then held it to her chest. Brad watched the play of emotions across her face, wondering what calculus churned behind those lovely brown eyes. Would it work? Was there anything left in there?
"What should I wear?" Her tone was gentle and loving, dusky and provocative, the way she used to be. Her beautiful smile was the same as the day they met, as the day they married, as it would always live in his heart. He could almost believe that she was still his, and that rattled him. That she could turn this on so easily, when it had been absent so long, was almost shocking. Brad smiled and it was the hardest thing he'd done in weeks.
"Something simple. Elegant. Maybe... the white lingerie you wore on our wedding night?" Her eyes flared for a fraction of a second. Brad could see the pulse in her long, lovely neck. But the smile didn't waver.
"All right then. Give me a few minutes to freshen up?" she asked.
"Of course. I'll meet you in the bedroom in fifteen minutes."
He moved in for a kiss and she met him halfway, that perfect lovely smile still in place. But the eyes told a different story. They were hard and tense. Scared? Angry? Hard to tell.
Amanda went to the master suite, while Brad filled a cup with ice from the fridge. He went to the spare bedroom. The third bedroom was Mandy's office and he was discouraged from going in there. Client confidentiality, he had been told. She had paperwork lying around that could get somebody in trouble if it got out. That story had worked for a long time.
Another jolt of worry shook him. Would this work? Did it really matter, in the long run? No, not really. This plan was all a big cherry on top of the sundae. Nice to have, but not critical to the process. Still, he was excited at the possibility. That he was even able to roll these dice was reward enough. He knew he had done everything he could.
In the spare room, Brad checked his gear. Laid out on a party platter he'd brought from under the kitchen cabinet was a selection of toys. A single long-stemmed rose, a black leather flogger with many slender leather tails, a clutch of feathers on a foot-long wand, a riding crop with a small leather head, the cup of ice, a long, thin soy wax candle and a lighter, a thick black blindfold, and a few more odds and ends. He threw a spare hand towel over the tray and checked his watch. Nine minutes.
On the desk, he unlocked his laptop and checked again that the other preparations were in place. All good. Nothing had changed in the last half hour. He just needed to wait until the last moment. Brad once again reconsidered his path, but he'd been over it enough in his head already. No second guessing now.
Seven minutes. Brad did some deep breathing exercises to settle himself for the next hour or so. It didn't work. How long would this really take? What had he not considered? How could this backfire? He checked his watch every 30 seconds until it was time. Finally, he clicked a couple of boxes on the screen, closed his laptop, and dropped it in the case. He collected the cords and stowed them one last time. He was all ready to go. Brad then scooped up the platter with all his toys. Down the hall, he tapped a toe against the master suite door to knock, his hands full with the covered tray.
"Ready for me?" he asked.
"I'm ready," his wife replied. No, you're not.
