Two Girls in the Night

Two Girls in the Night

Danny

Why the hell would Mickey Montauk be calling my cell phone. When I answered the phone that question was quickly answered.

A man said, "Hi, Danny! This is Mickey Montauk!"

I replied, "Hi, Mickey! What's up?"

I knew Mickey was Carrie's husband, but that was about it. Carrie and Janet, my wife, were besties. "I think I may have a problem, Danny. I think you may have a similar problem with Janet."

I was remotely interested, "What problem is that, Mickey?"

He continued, "This is one of those smoke and fire problems. I'm sure about the smoke, but not the fire."

I told him, "You're being a little vague, Mickey."

He laid it out for me, "I think there may be a little more going on then drinking and casual flirting on these girls' nights out, our wives have been having."

One thing I have never worried about is my wife's being unfaithful, "What makes you think that, Mickey?"

He explained, "It's not just one thing, Danny. It's how late they stay out. It's how Carrie acts before she goes out. It's how she acts after she goes out. It's not always answering her cell phone, although she usually calls back in thirty minutes or so."

I was beginning to get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had noticed the same things but not thought anything of it. After all, I had a thick eight-plus inch cock, which I used to fuck my wife to double digit orgasms every night. Even when I gave her twenty orgasms, my total stimulation package could satiate her in less than fifteen minutes. Often if we went twenty minutes, she would beg off the next night, saying that she was still sore, but in a good way. Still, he had my interest, "What are you thinking, Mickey?"

He replied, "I don't have anything yet. I'm not ready to pay for a PI. I'm thinking you and I could go about this in one of three ways. You babysit my kids, and I try to get something concrete. We could do just the opposite, with me doing the babysitting. Finally, we could split the cost of a babysitter, and work together."

I really didn't have any rapport with this guy. I didn't think I wanted to stay home with his and my kids. On the other hand, I wasn't sure I wanted to go it alone. I decided the last alternative was the least bad of the three. It would be good to have a navigator and a moderator in case one of us got angry.

I agreed to alternative three, "I'll get a babysitter for here. You've got two kids, right? The kids will be excited to have a sleepover. We can always tell the girls that you and I decided that we needed a guys' night out."

Mickey was fully on board, "Sounds like a plan. I've already arranged for a friend's work truck, so we don't have to worry about one of our cars being recognized. I'll leave right after Carrie. You can text me when the girls leave, and I'll be there right away to drop off the kids and pick you up."

We reviewed the plan and were pretty much set for the following Friday night. Carrie came by and picked up Janet. As soon as Carrie's taillights vanished, I texted Micky. In less than two minutes he was parking his friend's work truck and herding his two boys in. We introduced them to my two daughters and son. Everything seemed copacetic so we said our goodbyes and hurried out to the truck.

.We had both set tracking apps on our wives' cell phones, so we weren't worried about finding where they were going. Our town, which is really a small city, has distinctive areas. North and east of downtown are the nicer apartments and upscale homes. West across the railroad tracks is the industrial area and several middle-class neighborhoods, which is where we and the Montauks live. Across the river are the lower-class and less reputable neighborhoods. I always thought that Carrie and Janet would be going either downtown or to the nicer high-density area north and west of downtown. That was wrong. They were headed for the heart of the seedier, less reputable parts of town.

Their locations stabilized at what Mickey and I soon found out to be an old warehouse that had been converted into some sort of night spot. The tow parking lots had off-duty policeman on guard. A large poster billboard eliminated ambiguity as to what kind of a night spot this was. In six-inch-high letters was posted, "Tonight Only, See It All, Barbie and Brandie. Below the letters were two beautiful, very curvy women, shown head to toe with, with what looked like three small pieces of one inch tape between them and total nudity. The blond had larger boobs, while her sandy-haired partner was more slender. Below them in four-inch-high letters was stated, "10 PM Showing Only, Cover: $50." The only problem for Mickey and me, besides the outrageous cover charge, was that we knew the ladies as Carrie and Janet, our wives.

We split the twenty-dollar parking fee and then crossed the street to the show venue. We entered after paying the cover charge. The large space was dark, we selected a poorly lit booth and hoped that we were enough in the shadows to remain unrecognizable. We ordered beers and watched and waited. Barbie and Brandi, with a little more coverage than on the billboard, circulated among the tables. It appeared that there was a section of "Reserved" tables. Some were occupied and didn't have the "Reserved" sign. Apparently, this was the VIP section and was the focus of Barbie and Brandi's table hopping.

Mickey and I chatted intermittently about our observations of club activity, but we were both expectantly waiting to see what would happen at ten PM. I felt like I already knew more than enough. Mickey told me that we might be able to gather some evidence with our cellphones even though photography was forbidden.

Ten o'clock finally arrived. An MC told a few dirty jokes which had differing levels of approval from the audience. Then, he announced, "Live from our town, what you have all been waiting for, the most beautiful ladies in all of our state, Barbie and Brandi!"

Our wives came out in different costumes than they had worn earlier and began dancing provocatively. After the first number, they began shedding clothing. By the end of the fourth number, they were totally nude. They danced around bumping, grinding, and shimmying for one more number. Then the announcer came out, "Give it up for Barbie and Brandi!" Our wives bowed for moderate applause. The announcer continued. "Now girls, is there anything missing?" Both girls nodded yes. He continued, "Give us a hint or two!" The girls made circles using their thumbs and forefingers; then they held their flat hands nine or ten inches apart. He responded, "You're not missing cocks, are you?" Two nude guys came out. They seemed fairly erect but were not particularly impressive. I was confident that I had them beat in the cock department. The girls went down on them. Mickey and I continued to discreetly shoot photos from the privacy of our booth. We went undetected since virtually every eye in the house was focused on the activity on stage.

Next, Barbie pushed one of the guys downed on a conveniently placed chaise lounge and rode him to a loud orgasm. Then Brandi rode the other guy to orgasm. Mickey and I continued shooting. A third nude guy joined the group on stage. After Brandi sucked Barbie's guy hard, Barbie received a double penetration. After a screaming orgasm. Two more guys joined in. After Barbie and Brandi sucked them to full arousal, three of the guys gave Brandi an air-tight reaming. Mickey and I continued shooting. Next, audience participation was invited. A couple of brave hearts came on stage and either vaginally or anally fucked one or the other of the girls. Mickey and I had had enough. We put our cellphones away and quietly left the club.

On the way back to my house, we had minutes of silence punctuated by us both trying to talk at the same time. Our consensus view seemed to be disbelief, amazement, and determination to burn the bitches. Both of us were concerned about our children. We decided to see attorneys Monday morning, and act according to what they said so that we could hopefully obtain primary custody of our children.

We woke Mickey's children up, and I helped him carry them out to his friend's truck. We split the babysitter fee and sent her home. She only lived a few houses down. I poured myself a stiff drink and then went to bed.

About three AM I heard the shower running. When Janet came to bed, I pretended to be asleep, even though she was usually very passionate after her Friday night outings. The rest of the weekend I was reserved but civil, finding excuses for avoiding intimacy both Saturday and Sunday nights. Monday morning she told me that we needed to talk when we got home that evening.

During the day I took care of all our joint accounts and received the divorce papers that had been prepared on a rush basis for a small additional fee. Small, ha!

She thought she was putting me on the defensive when she said, "What the hell, Danny? Are you seeing somebody?"

I ignored her question, and asked my own, "If a spouse takes a number of lovers, do you think there's any possibility of their marriage continuing?"

She replied, "What! What on earth brought that on?"

I opened my laptop. Then I started showing the pictures Mickey and I had taken of her and Carrie's Friday night activities.

I couldn't read her expression. She seemed stunned, at a loss for words. I inquired, "How long has this been going on?"

Finally, she responded, "Oh, My, God! Honey, I am so sorry! Let me explain!"

I told her, "I'm all ears."

Now she paused. It seemed that she was scrambling to put the best face on what I had just shown her. "Danny, it started as an experiment."

I asked, "Why did you need an experiment?"

She explained, "Danny, you are the best fuck I have ever had. I'm guessing that you are one of the best in the world. The problem is sometimes I just want to be intimate without rushing to orgasm. I just want to experience my partner without having my pussy stretched and continual orgasms. The continual orgasms are great. Even having my pussy stretched feels good, but sometimes I just want the intimacy of being penetrated without going straight to orgasm. Am I making any sense?"

I admitted, "Not very much. I didn't see that much intimacy in your double penetration and air-tight fucking Friday night."

She spoke again, "There wasn't. That's not a part of our performance art."

I couldn't help myself, "Performance art. That's what you call paid fucking in front of an audience. Performance art. Wonders never cease."

She showed some irritation. "Be nice, Danny. This really isn't the time or place for sarcasm."

I replied, "If I'm sarcastic, what are you?"

She responded, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I ever went down this path. You're probably right if you consider me to be a whore. You're probably thinking 'Where did this whore put her ill-gotten gains?' I only kept it from you because I had no way to explain it. Half of it is yours! That's true even if you divorce me."

I didn't know if I could make her understand, "Janet, this isn't about money. It's about the woman I loved until I found out about her secret life Friday night. The question is, 'Do we have a way forward?'"

She told me, "Danny, I'm sure we do, even if it doesn't look much like it now. Please don't do anything rash. If it helps, what you saw will be my last Friday night performance."

I asked her directly, "What about besides Friday night? Have you been giving other performances?"

She ignored that question, "Danny, do we have a chance, if I quit right now?"

I replied, "I don't know. I don't know which is worse, the secrecy or the public fucking. I'm not sure I know you anymore. Again, have you been performing other than Friday nights?"

She finally started crying, "I've fucked for money on other days as well. Please don't hate me, Danny!"

I asked her, "Where's the hidden money, Janet. How much is there?"

She seemed detached when she answered, "It's in different places. It's over a million dollars."

I felt like she was beginning to be honest. I was concerned that the money meant a lot more to her than to me. I told her, "Janet, what's most important to me is the children. You used to be right up there with them, but I certainly don't feel that way now."

She interrupted me, "Danny, you are most important to me. Next come the children. Please don't dump me without trying to find another way. I love you, and I don't want to lose you. I've been a fool."

I asked her point blank, "How long have you been living this life?"

She shed a few tears. "Terry and I started dancing about two-and-a-half years ago. About six months after we started having girls' night outs. At first, we didn't dance nude, at least keeping our panties on. After the nude dancing started, it was only a few months until we were fucking on stage. We just kept getting worse and worse. Next came audience participation. Then we started having private parties after the Friday night shows."

"The last six months, we have been, there is no nice way to put it; we've been turning tricks whenever we could get away long enough. Sometimes I babysat their children while Carrie entertained; sometimes she babysat our kids while I entertained. Even some of our Saturday afternoon shopping expeditions were to turn tricks. We just kept getting more and more out of control and no one put the brakes on. I'm so sorry, honey, you must be so hurt and disappointed with me. Do you hate me? I hope you aren't disgusted with me. Please don't dump me. I know I don't deserve it, but I want another chance so very much."

I told her, "Here are the divorce papers. You should go over them with your attorney. It's not a given that they'll be filed, but I think we need to talk about divorce, anyway. Divorce is not a good thing, but neither is the kind of whoring around you've been doing. I believe it will be difficult to find a good alternative to divorce, when I consider what you have done, and how long you've been doing it. Right now, I'm struggling with why you did it and do you like that life so much that even if you quit for a while, you'd still go back. I'm at a total loss here."

She spoke calmly, "I think I have a little sense of why I did it. It was just like a dare. It was fun and exciting. Then after a while, we wanted more excitement. We just kept going further and further. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry, I didn't consider how this would hurt you. We just never thought about you and Mickey figuring out what was going on. Now I know I've been a fool. Why should I risk everything for a few cheap thrills? I'm so sorry, baby. I just hope you'll let me stay around long enough so that you can believe I'll never do something like this again."

I explained, "I'm still in shock that you did it once. I'm willing to talk to you but I'm not withdrawing the divorce motion. You still need to get a lawyer."

We left it at that for the night. I was still disinterested in sex. I just didn't get it. How could the woman that I loved and trusted do such a thing. I called Mickey the next day at work and asked him how he was doing.

He said, "I'm not doing very well. The bitch thinks she can make me think her cheating ways are okay. I'm going to do my best to burn her ass good. She's still giving me, what's the big deal, and now we can get some of the things you always wanted. She doesn't understand that I want a wife, not a goddamned whore!"

He finally asked me how I was doing.

I spoke slowly, "Janet admits she did wrong. I would consider taking her back, except that I have no reason to believe she won't be back in the same boat in a couple of years if not less. Fuck, Mickey, are all women born to cheat?"

Mickey suggested something else, "I'm running DNA on my kids. I have to know just how big a cheater the bitch is."

I was a little concerned about my status as a father. If Janet had been truthful, all my children would have been born before she started cheating. Still, there was too much at stake to not find out the truth. At least the DNA showed a positive match between our children and me.

After the DNA test results came in. We talked again. I asked her, "What do you want, Janet?"

She told me, "Honestly, I like what I'm doing, but it's not worth losing you. I'll quit the whoring and the on stage performing, if you'll just stay with me."

I asked her, "What about our children? Three lives depend on us. Do you think what you're doing is being a good mother?"

She shed a few tears, "It's not, Danny! I need to quit whether we stay together or not. I'm so sorry, Danny. I promise you I am going to be a better person, regardless of what happens with us."

If it wasn't for the children, it was clearly time for a split. I had to decide, did I really want to live with the bitch anymore. If it was only me, it would be an easy question, but it wouldn't be easy to desert the three dependent lives. This was going to be hard, no matter which way I went. My divorce attorney told me that with the evidence I had of Janet's onstage performances, I had a good chance of getting sole custody. Joint custody was pretty much a sure thing.

I talked to Janet. It was a commentary on her world view that when she found out I wanted primary custody, she was thinking that this would be a way to continue her dual careers of on-stage porn and prostitution. The truth was she liked the life she was living. If I had full custody of the kids, she could perform on both Friday and Saturday nights and whore the rest of the week, except when she had the children on Sunday afternoon. We came up with a plan for a loosely defined eighty days a year of custody for her, if she wanted that much. Basically, it was a month in summer and one day per week, with the idea that every other week she could have the children on Sunday and Monday since Saturday was her big day in both jobs. In practice, it turned out that she was happy with two or three Sunday afternoons a month plus one or two weeks in summer, depending on her vacation plans.

After a couple of years of dating and clubbing, I remarried, and my new wife was happy with Janet's and my three plus our own three. She loved being a homemaker and confined her evening outside the home activities to our date nights. Her major outside the marriage social outlet was morning coffees primarily with other wives in our neighborhood. We also attended frequent parties mostly hosted by other couples from our neighborhood.

Janet gave up her whoring and onstage performances for porn filming, where she became something of a star. That changed her number of visitation days, surprisingly she was quite happy with reducing the number to two days every two weeks, except when we were on vacation.

At the end of the day, I think we were both happier after our divorce - she as a successful porn star and I as a successful father and husband.