The nightly bath and bedtime story ritual for my sons, Brian 4 and Terry 3 was accomplished. My wife Laura and I usually alternate for the bath duties but I was almost always the requested story reader because according to the boys, my voice for creatures and monsters was more "realistic". Truth be told, I really liked story time because of the warmth and cozy togetherness lying in bed with my boys on each side of me with their undivided attention. Since neither boy could read it also gave me the opportunity to change the stories around to reflect on current events or the boys behavior that day. However they were bright kids, usually caught me in my deception and made me go back and read the story right. Tonight Terry had fallen asleep and Brian was nodding as well. It was so peaceful and comfortable that I closed my eyes for a second and didn't awaken for what turned out to be two hours. Being as gentle as possible, I got Brian into his own bed and I kissed both boys goodnight. I closed up Huckleberry Finn returning it to the kids bookshelf, turned out the light and made my way downstairs.
As I approached the first floor I noticed that the kitchen light was on and since I had turned it off when I shepherded the boys upstairs earlier this evening, I was curious. Laura was "out with the girls," a recently rekindled event. The girls were the office staff of the company Laura worked at before becoming a stay at home mom when the boys were babies. Recently she had returned to work part time and with that had come the monthly evenings out.
I wondered why I hadn't heard the garage door opening but then if there was water running or kids chattering I might not have picked it up. The question however was quickly answered when I heard the distinctive sounds of sobbing. As I entered the kitchen I was struck by a bizarre scene. Laura was seated at the table with an open bottle of Jack, a glass of partially consumed bourbon and what appeared to be a growing pile of used tissues. Her normally neatly arranged hair was messed and when she abruptly looked up at me I immediately knew that things were dramatically wrong. First of all she had that fuzzy expression of the obviously intoxicated, a state I had only rarely observed in my short hitter wife. The other striking thing was that her mascara and eye liner had run and together with her lipstick, was smeared haphazardly on her face.
As she looked up at me her eyes flooded with even more tears and she buried her head in her arms on the table and sobbed out loud. Perplexed with what was going on I did what most husbands would do. I pulled out another chair, sat next to her and put my hand on her back to rub it in a comforting way.
"What's going on Laura?"
"What happened?"
"Are you hurt?"
The last question elicited a shaking of her head in the negative but no change in the volume of tears. Helpless as what to do, I pulled her around in her chair so that I could draw her against me in a partial embrace. This only seemed to make her crying worse and so clueless, I stood up pulling her with me and with both arms, embraced her full length. For several long minutes I just held her until she got the tears under control.
"Are you sure you're not hurt?"
In a tiny slurred voice I elicited a "no,..... upset."
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Head shake no.
It was then that I felt her burp followed by the smell of vomit and before I could do anything productive, she was throwing up on both of us. Too late to get out of the way I held on to her until she was done. She must have puked somewhere else before because the vomit wasn't that great in volume but it certainly was in smell. All I could think of now was the Master bathroom shower. Laura is a waif of a woman at less than a hundred pounds and I'm 220 so I just picked her up and got us up to the bathroom as quickly as I could.
I stood Laura up on unsteady legs as I undressed her. The first obvious thing was her blouse which I noted was missing most of its buttons. I tossed it into the shower where I intended to rinse it off before bagging it for the laundry. She was wearing a fancy VS bra that I had gotten for her on our five year anniversary. One of the straps was broken but the rear clasp was still done up and so I released her beautiful B cups which unfortunately were wet with vomit. Her skirt was next and then the rest of the VS set of garter belt, hose and thong. My polo shirt, jeans and underwear followed into the shower stall.
Next I adjusted the water, got Laura rinsed off and then with her seated on the floor of the stall, I directed the flow over her head. The former residents of our house had had a large dog and had a hose attachment in the stall to wash Fido. I used that to rinse off our clothes while monitoring Laura's state.
After a good long time in the shower I got her up onto slightly steadier feet and used body wash to clean us both. Normally I love showering with my wife as it is a perfect lead in to love making sessions. That was not to be tonight due to her physical state and too many unanswered questions for me. Once dried off I sat her on the potty while I dealt with the wet clothes. Laura was semi comatose on the toilet but I did hear her pee so I dried her off, carried her to the bedroom and put her into her side of the master bed. I then finished dealing with the clothes, pulled on shorts and a polo shirt and went back to check on the wife. She appeared to be sleeping peacefully so I put a waste basket next to her head and went down to clean up the kitchen.
I put a couple cubes into the bourbon and capped up the bottle. Now to try to figure out what the fuck was going on. The obvious starting place was her phone and her recent life blood, the text app. She had changed her password so I tried a couple of birth years and was in. I quickly scanned through the most recent from tonight and found most were from the girls group asking if she got home OK in the car from the Club. That caused me to check the garage and sure enough her car was missing. That explained why I never heard the garage door opening. There was a recent text from a guy named Jeremy Parker, who apologized in case his attention to her had been "misunderstood."
Being a methodical kind of guy I went back a month in her mail and texts and found quite a dialogue about the club they would be attending for girls night and the relative hotness of the guys who had promised to be there. It seemed that the girls group now included several guys who either called on the wife's company or were salesmen for the same. Most were group messages but Laura and this guy Jeremy had a mildly flirtatious string of individual contacts for several weeks. There was nothing like an arranged date in the dialogue but it was clear they were both interested in meeting up for a dance or two. It seemed my wife had developed quite an interest in emulating Ginger Rogers.
When I got through the string of messages and emails I went back upstairs to check on Laura and the kids. All were sleeping peacefully and had kicked off their covers. When I pulled the sheet back over Laura for about the 10,000th time I admired what I had always believed to be the most perfectly proportioned body I had ever seen. Even after two kids she was gorgeous and as I slowly pulled up the sheet I noted that my cock had thickened and was expanding the front of my shorts. I then wondered in passing if our marriage would survive the next twenty four hours.
Needless to say I got little sleep that night. The next morning I shook Laura awake at 9:00 and she panicked when she saw the time.
"Oh my god I'm late for work."
"I called both of us in for personal days today. Your Mother has the kids and will get them to and from preschool. She will keep them until I give her a call."
"Does she know why?"
"Yes, I told her that you and I are going to get the bottom of what drove you get smashed with the girls and apparently act like a slut."
"Oh God why did you?"
"Why did you act like a slut? Laura, by the end of the day today we will either be working out the terms of our divorce or resolving whatever issues led you to act as you did last night."
"Where do you get that divorce talk. I know I had too much to drink but I can explain everything."
"Good, I can hardly wait to hear how the buttons got torn off your blouse and how the shoulder strap on your anniversary Victoria Secret bra got ripped. I'd also like an explanation as to why you were wearing the VS garter belt, thong and nylons to work. I have breakfast ready in the kitchen and I expect you down promptly and ready to explain things to me. Keep in mind that I have read your emails and texts on the family computer, your work laptop, your tablet and your phone. I'm looking forward to some explanations."
As I was about to leave the room I turned to her and added. "I put out some mouthwash in the bathroom. Your barf breath is really bad. There's also some aspirin in the medicine chest. Take it, you're going to need it."
Ten minutes later Laura joined me. She was wearing her favorite lounge wear, yoga pants which hide nothing and an oversized sweatshirt which hides everything. She also had that walking on eggshells oh do I have a headache look about her.
"There's toast, english muffins and bacon. Coffee and juice."
As expected she picked at the choices but settled on an old home remedy for a bad stomach, mustard toast. Yellow mustard on buttered toast is a great hangover killer. We sat in silence while she worked her way through two cups of coffee and then opened a 16 oz Propel to help her hydration. Normally she'd be reading her mail and texts on her iPhone but all her electronics were in a pile in front of me.
I waited for her to speak. Finally she looked over at me and said.
"Thanks for breakfast Honey. And thank you so much for cleaning me up last night. I don't remember much after the drinking started but I smelled the wet clothes and realized that I had been sick all over both of us and I'm so sorry. You've always taken such good care of me and the boys. I don't know what I'd do without you.
"Hopefully you won't be getting an answer to the question this morning."
Laura ignored my sarcasm and went on. " Obviously you know I was with the girls from work. We went to Carsons because they have that Wednesday night dance thing and you know how much I love to dance. Anyway, these guys kept sending drinks to us, I was in a party mood because I just got a big raise at work and I over indulged. It was weird though because one minute I was just high and having fun, the next I was blotto drunk on my ass. I must have danced a lot too because my feet still hurt from those heels I was wearing and I remember some kind of fight or altercation with a guy. Then nothing until someone was helping me up our front walk and opening the door with my keys."
"I found this note in my purse this morning."
Laura Wilson
We found your address in your purse and are bringing you home from our Club. Your car should be secure in our parking lot overnight and you may pick it up in the morning. My wife Claire will be driving you home because you had an excessive amount to drink. One of your dance partners was getting quite abusive and somehow your blouse was torn open. Frankly you were out of control and so my wife and I made the decision to remove you from our property and to make sure you got home safely. Your dance partner objected and our bouncer had to get physical with him.
You might want to seek some professional help.
Tony Carson
After I read the note I took the floor.
"Seems like the Carsons saved your ass. You owe them a big thank you."
Laura nodded and was silent.
"OK so here's what we know for sure. You went to Carsons to party with the girls and to dance with some hot guys. You got really wasted and was separated from a 'want-a be' Lothario by the bouncer. You ended up in such bad condition that the club owner's wife drove you home. Agreed."
Laura nodded her head in the affirmative.
"I obviously have a few questions. Let's start with who the fuck is Jeremy Parker and when did you start dating him?"
Laura looked up at me with a frightened look on her face.
