Twenty Minutes Ch 01

I was only twenty minutes early coming home from work. When I thought about it later, that's what amazed me. They were fucking in our bed only twenty minutes before I was due home! Was I that boringly predictable?

I could tell you I expected it, that I was suspicious of her, but it would be a lie. I was flabbergasted, paralyzed, dumbstruck.

Angie and I had been married eight years—very happy ones, if you ask me. And our sex life had been great: energetic, fun, full of surprises. We still did it 2-3 times a week. Sometimes it may have been routine, but at other times it was mind-blowing.

I hadn't been neglecting her, I hadn't taken lots of business trips, we hadn't been fighting, she hadn't been moody, she hadn't been staying at work late. There was nothing, no sign to warn me.

Because I saw the strange car out front, I slipped into the house quietly. Right away I could hear the creaking of the bed in our bedroom, and I knew.

Time stopped. I stood still, listening. Not listening. Not thinking. I idly wondered if I was still breathing, if the blood was still circulating in my veins. Then I felt the pounding of my heart, so strong I was amazed they couldn't hear it in the bedroom.

I kept standing there—I don't know how long. I heard the creaking, heard the moans and the sighs, heard the gasping sounds Angie makes when she gets close to coming.

And then I quietly turned and walked out the door, got in my car, and drove away.

*** *** *** ***

I found a bar, sat at a table, had a cold beer. Thought about having another one but stopped. I didn't want to get plastered. I felt numb. I remembered reading that when a guy takes a bullet, like in combat, the pain doesn't come right away—the numbness is first. That's how I felt. But I knew the pain was coming.

I sat for an hour, and sure enough the pain came, and the mental images. I saw Angie writhing in some guy's arms, biting his shoulder, gasping into his mouth. I saw her sucking his cock, bending over so he could fuck her from behind. I saw the two of them relaxing and laughing in our bed, saw her giving him that ravishing smile, saw her pulling him on top of her for more.

My stomach knotted, my heart pounded, my fists clenched. I was a wreck. I couldn't see the future beyond the next few minutes, and they looked pretty fucking bad.

What the hell should I do? What does a husband do in this situation? What would Angie expect me to do?

A crazy idea came into my head. Absolutely insane—utterly the opposite of what a typical, loving, predictable husband would do. In my condition I couldn't tell if it was good insane, bad insane, or just plain insane. Without hesitating I decided I'd do it. Maybe it was time I stopped being predictable.

*** *** *** ***

I drove to an electronics store and got the high-tech gadgets I needed. Then I drove straight back to our house. I was more than an hour late, and I knew Angie would be wondering what was up.

"Alex, what happened to you? I was ... I ... are you all right?" Angie looked great. She was freshly showered and made up. And she's beautiful, always. But she was puzzled, and a bit worried, as I came into the house with my head down, wearing the most hangdog expression I could manage.

Looking miserable, I just said, "Angie," in a voice that started to break. I looked at her, letting the grief that I felt show in my face. "Please come sit in the kitchen with me. I have to talk to you."

She followed me in and we sat together. I looked at her bleakly for a few long moments, then I spoke.

"Please ... just let me say this, and try not to interrupt.

"I've been having an affair. For three months, with Christina Blodgett." Christina was a casual acquaintance of ours. I'd never laid a hand on her, and she had recently moved out of state with her husband, but Angie didn't know that.

"It's over now—I ended it. But I had to tell you. I had to ... tell you the truth, and beg for your forgiveness."

I'd been looking down, but now I turned my haggard face up to hers. "I ... thought it was just sex, that it ... that it had nothing to do with you and me. Because I love you, desperately!

"But I realized ... that I was lying to myself. Every time I ... was with her, I was hurting you, even though you didn't know. What kind of loving husband would break his marriage vows, give himself sexually to another woman?

"I convinced myself that you would never find out, so that it would never hurt you. But that was a selfish lie, one I told myself so I could keep the affair going.

"And I saw that ... that what I was doing was an act of hostility to you. Sleeping with her ... even though it was just casual sex, pulled me away from you. How could running around behind your back not be a slap in the face to you, an attack on what we have together?

"Angie ... honey ... I am so ashamed. I cannot even imagine the pain this must be causing you. I am so sorry." And I started to cry, for real—my tears falling not because of my invented affair, but because of her real one.

I looked up at Angie, and her face was a study. She was utterly stunned, of course, but not the way an innocent wife would have been. She clearly hadn't the slightest idea of how to react. Before she could pull herself together, I went on.

"I want you to know one thing. Christina and I were ... never together here, in our house. I could never have ... been with her in our bed. I just wouldn't have done that to you." I thought to myself, I hope that one stung, you bitch!

"I'm going to pack a bag, and stay in a hotel for a few days. I'm sure you won't want me in the house. I want you to have a little time, to think, to ask yourself whether there's any way we can get past this. I love you, and I want to be married to you always. But ... to be honest, I don't know if I could handle it if you had cheated on me.

"I'm so sorry, Angie! I'll run upstairs, pack my things, and I'll be gone in five minutes."

Without waiting for her reply I hurried upstairs.

I packed, but I also attached a micro-transmitter to the phone line behind our bed. It would transmit all phone conversations made on that line, from anywhere in the house, to one of two small recorders I had hidden in the back of the garage. I was eager to see how Angie would handle my "infidelity".

Coming back downstairs, I returned to the kitchen, taking a moment to hide a tiny microphone under one of the counters. It would transmit to the second recorder in the garage.

Angie was still in shock—her eyes glazed, her mouth still hanging open. She pulled herself together a little as I came in.

"Alex ..." she began. "I ... just can't believe this! How could you ....?" She truly didn't know what else to say, and I didn't give her time to find any more words.

"Baby, I am so sorry, so very sorry! I'm going to go now. I pray that you won't shut me out of your life! I'll call in a couple of days, and we can talk whenever you want to. I love you!"

And with that, looking guilty and ashamed, I kissed her forehead and walked out the door.

*** *** *** ***

I had never done anything so bizarre in my life, and I didn't know how I felt.

Well, that's not completely true. I knew that I felt better than I would have had I just gone home and played the betrayed husband, just told Angie what I'd heard her doing.

I didn't want to hear her apologies, her explanations, see her tears. I didn't want to be that cliché, the cuckolded husband.

Was I still suffering? Did I still watch the home movies of Angie and her lover playing on the screen in my head? Of course. I was dying inside. I was out of my mind with anger, and even more with grief.

But I took a bit of grim satisfaction in knowing that I was fucking with her head at the same time. So much for being predictable!

What did I hope to accomplish? I'm not sure I knew even after I did it. But I did know one thing: Angie's reaction over the next few days would determine whether we stayed married or whether I kicked her cheating ass out.

*** *** *** ***

I went and had a quiet dinner by myself. It seemed to me that the more time I gave Angie to think, the better. Her first impulse would be to let me have it, to abuse me for my "crime". I wanted her to think it through.

At best, I hoped that she'd actually reflect on how bad it felt to be cheated on. It might be too much to expect, but I wanted her to play home movies of me and Christina Blodgett inside her own head. I wanted her to feel hurt, empty, and devastated—as devastated as I felt.

But I didn't know if that was likely. She'd been fucking around on me—for all I knew she was already one step out the door. Did she even still love me? Or had we been only days away from a surprise farewell scene?

And even if she loved me, my revelations might not hurt her all that much. How could she feel the pain I was feeling, if she'd been doing the same thing herself? It might just seem like "turnabout is fair play"; or even "no harm no foul". And it sure as hell didn't feel that way to me!

In any event, I decided to wait a week before talking to Angie. In the meantime I'd let her stew—and listen to the hidden recorders to see what she was up to.

I called my office and left a message saying I had to go out of town suddenly to take care of my sick mother, and I would use my saved-up personal days and vacation days. Then I put a new announcement on my cell phone: "Hi, this is Alex, I'm away for a few days but please leave me a message and I'll call you when I get back".

I checked into a local Holiday Inn, put my car around the back, and walked to a Budget Rental place and rented a nondescript sedan. With that it would be easy to drive around town unnoticed, even in my own neighborhood.

*** *** *** ***

You may have had sleepless nights in your life, but there's no sleepless night like the one I had, seeing Angie and some anonymous hunk together, over and over again.

It wasn't the pleasure she was getting that hurt me the most. I wouldn't resent her having a terrific massage, for instance. It was the intimacy: the way that lovers open themselves to one another. The playful smiles and touches, the mannerisms that each of us has in bed. All those things I loved about Angie, all those things that were supposed to be only for me!

I didn't imagine I could ever make love to her again. How could I see any of those familiar gestures without thinking of her with another man? How could I ever know whether the pleasure I was giving her matched what he had given her? Would she always be comparing my body and my cock and my stamina to his? Would she be disappointed with me?

Since I hadn't a clue about the affair, I also hadn't a clue about her reasons. Maybe our life was predictable—maybe we were in a rut, and I hadn't noticed. But I was so happy with her! And I thought she was happy too....

I never solved it that night, but I didn't sleep either.

*** *** *** ***

After breakfast at the motel I drove to my house, parking a couple of doors down. I waited until I saw Angie drive off to work. Fifteen minutes I was inside, settled in the kitchen with the two recorders.

There had been only one phone call, about an hour after I'd left the house. Angie called her best friend Connie, sounding very emotional, and asked her to come over. Connie and her husband Brad were neighbors; he and I were casual friends, but Angie and Connie were very close.

When Connie arrived Angie was in tears, and Connie said, "My God Angie—what's happened?"

"Something terrible! You won't believe it!"

Connie immediately said, "Oh Lord—did Alex find out about you and Tommy?"

Interesting, I thought angrily—Connie knows all about the affair!

"No, Connie, it's even worse. Alex has been having an affair with Christina Blodgett. For three months! He came home and confessed to me tonight. He was crying, Connie—he looked destroyed. He said it was over, that he was so sorry, but that he had to tell me the truth. I've never seen him so upset!"

There was silence for a few moments. Then Connie said, "Angie, you need to calm down. Let's think this through a minute.

"Actually, I don't see why this is so bad! You've really got it over him now. If he ever does find out about you and Tommy, you can tell him it was all for revenge on you! It's like a Get-out-of-jail-free card!"

Listening to this, I groaned to myself. Thanks for the help, Connie, I thought.

Angie said, "no, Connie, you don't get it! I feel completely shattered. It doesn't make any sense, I know—I was doing it too. But just thinking of Alex with her—it feels like a knife in my guts.

"You remember what she looks like, don't you? That glossy red hair, and those big tits she shakes at every man in the room. All the time I thought Alex was loving me, and only me ... he was humping that bitch! I can't believe what a fool I am, not to have noticed anything!"

Connie kept trying to calm Angie, but she got nowhere. Angie was caught up in some of the same devastating feelings I'd been having.

"Connie, I just don't know what to do. The past two hours I feel like I've been going out of my mind. You know as well as I do that Tommy was only a fling—a little harmless fun. It didn't mean anything more to me than the excitement of doing something illicit, like you and Henry last year."

This was new information to me, that Connie had also had an affair.

Angie went on. "And I never thought that much about what my affair might do to Alex. I just figured I'd be careful, and he'd never ever know. Just like Brad never found out about you and Henry. You had your fun, it's over, and your marriage is still great.

"But now ..." She stopped, and I could hear her crying.

"Now I feel so torn-apart! How can I ever trust him again, that bastard? All the ... the special ways we are with each other, the way he holds me and talks to me. You know what I'm talking about. That shit! I could fucking kill him!"

"Listen, Angie," Connie spoke soothingly. "It's not the end, it doesn't have to be. You said it yourself: Tommy is only a fling, and you still love Alex. Henry was only a fling for me, and I still love Brad. If it was the same for Alex, why can't you both get past this?"

Angie's voice was hollow. "Because now I see what it feels like, Connie. Because every time he ... stuck his dick in her, it was like ... like laughing in my face. The delights of fresh pussy, behind my back! He may love me, but how could he not be chuckling to himself? 'My poor old wife, here's a little extra thrill for me and she'll never know.' Plus the thought of Christina, laughing to herself at what she was pulling over on me!

"It just kills me! My oh-so-predictable husband. You know how we joke that you can set your watch by him, when he gets up, when he leaves for work, what he has for breakfast every day. I guess I was wrong about all of that.

"I feel so used, Connie! I feel like he's wiped his hands on me and tossed me in the trash!"

"Let me make us some coffee, Angie." There were no words for a while, just the sounds of cups rattling, water running. From time to time I could hear Angie crying quietly.

As they drank their coffee, Connie continued to try to calm Angie down, without much success. When she left, Connie made Angie promise not to do anything rash.

"Whatever you do, don't tell Alex about Tommy! Right now he's feeling terrible about what he's done—and that's the way you want it. That's the only way you're going to be able to control the situation."

Angie sighed. "I don't know, Connie. He was honest with me—I don't know if I can go on lying to him.

"The only thing I know for sure is that Tommy and I are done. At least for now. Until I know whether I still have my marriage—or whether I even want my marriage."

*** *** *** ***

I waited nearly the whole week before I called Angie. It was a long, unreal time of my life. I didn't call friends, because I didn't want commiseration or advice. I took a lot of walks in the woods by myself, thinking or just rambling aimlessly.

I tried to read a couple of books, but they didn't hold my interest. I went to the current action-thriller hit at the movie theater, but left after half an hour.

I thought, as best I could, about the future. The only decision I made for sure was that if Angie and I split up, I would move away. I would need a fresh start somewhere far from where my memories of happier times were.

I spoke to a divorce lawyer recommended by an old friend. Turns out that no-fault divorces between couples without children are pretty routine—you can be done with the whole thing in a few months, as long as the property settlement is not contested. I asked him to start things in motion, to file the initial papers, but not to serve Angie yet. Instead I kept the notification papers—I had the idea that I might want to drop them in her lap personally, depending on how things went.

The life I had had with Angie made me happier than I had ever been. She was loving, thoughtful, and more fun than anyone I'd ever been with. She made me laugh, and I seemed to make her laugh too.

We were easy and comfortable with one another—I always felt able to be my real self with her, practically from our first date. And I figured that was because she liked the real me—I didn't have to put on airs or try to impress her. She teased me about being so predictable in my habits, but she respected my seriousness and sense of responsibility. Above all, I had always trusted her. I thought of her as honest and loyal.

So what now? Obviously "honest and loyal" were worth about as much as WorldCom stock. I knew that I still loved her—I just couldn't imagine a life in which I wasn't able to trust her.

More than any other thing, I felt humiliated. When you cheat on someone, as I had said to her, it's an act of hostility, however unconscious. You are putting something over on your spouse; you're making a fool of them. And that sense of superiority, of being in on a secret they don't know, infects the whole relationship.

I couldn't believe that Angie didn't secretly think a little less of me, knowing that she was getting her ashes hauled by somebody else behind my back. Mixed with her love for me would be a little bit of condescension, of contempt. How could I ever, ever forgive her for that?

*** *** *** ***

Every day, making sure Angie was out, I went back to the house and listened to the recorders. The day after her conversation with Connie, Angie called Tommy and told him she was ending their affair.

I didn't learn too much about him from their short conversation. He was clearly younger, and it didn't sound like there was anything much between them beyond a sexual attraction. When she told him she was having marital troubles (not specified) and couldn't see him anymore, he didn't sound crushed—just disappointed (presumably about losing a nice piece of ass!). He didn't beg or plead, and he didn't get angry.

His reaction was more like, OK, sure, I understand—well, it's been terrific, no hard feelings.

I also learned that they'd been screwing for about three weeks—usually at his apartment, but once or twice in my house. I never did learn how they met.

The casualness of their relationship both comforted me and sickened me. I was relieved that Angie wasn't in love with him, and that he wasn't a threat to take her away from me. Their tone on the phone was almost like he was her tennis pro or swim coach or massage therapist. This made me feel a little less like I'd been replaced.

On the other hand—how could she have jumped into bed with the guy so casually? Just because he had a hot body, and was available? Did our vows to each other really mean so little? What was Angie's love for me worth, if it didn't stop her from fucking this guy just for the fun of it? I couldn't begin to answer that question.