A work of fiction. All characters are over 18 years. Best read sequentially; first read chapter one to make better sense of this. Synopsis: Headstrong Myra has a boyfriend and her husband Wendell doesn't like it. What are his options?
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The next morning I awoke early, before six, and laid in bed thinking. Myra had shocked me last night by threatening divorce and going so far as to have an attorney prepare divorce papers. Then she had double-shocked me by going out for two hours dressed in a LBD. I'd set her straight about dating other men by spanking her bottom bright red, after which Myra revealed she was still thinking about my long ago affair with Claire Haskell. She wanted to hear the prurient details, too, a third shock to me.
I wondered if Myra had been keeping her kinky side hidden from me. A date with a mystery man? Inconceivable, yet she had done it. An orgasm after spanking? That, too. My surprising wife!
Myra was sleeping soundly, so I quietly slipped out of bed and padded downstairs, intent on some coffee and quiet time to think. The sun was just coming up behind the mountains and it should be another beautiful day, but cooler by the looks of it. With the dark shades down in our bedroom, Myra could sleep until she was fully rested.
I made a cup of coffee as noiselessly as possible and ate a bowl of Wheaties with a banana. Yeah, this project would require a champion, so I better eat like one. I took 800 mg. of ibuprofen to calm my throbbing brain, still suffering from last night's alcoholic excesses. I was glad to be done with the booze. From now on, I was staying dry.
My first order of business was her boyfriend. My working plan was to find out who he was, cut the two of them off, and scare him away. That mightn't be so easy, knowing how stubborn Myra could be, and I didn't know anything about the man, not even his name. He might be a persistent son-of-bitch.
Most likely he was someone from work but I was guessing. Meeting a man online seemed unlike Myra. No, it was probably someone from work. She might've been spending hours a day, over weeks, or even months, getting chummy with some sweet talking ladies' man. I bet people at work knew, too. I'd been oblivious and I had myself to blame for that. I'd been working, drinking, and ignoring Myra.
I had to play a long game. I might draw Myra back to me but her mystery man could remain lurking at work or somewhere else, biding his time, and subtly working his seduction. I would find him and drive him away. Permanently.
Maybe after last night she had dropped him, at least in her mind, but I doubted it. She had said she was sorry about last night's date, but I suddenly realized something. She hadn't even admitted to seeing him last night, much less repudiated him. I didn't know what had happened during the two hours she was gone; who she was with, where she'd gone, or what she'd done. I didn't think anything sexual could've happened because she came back in pristine condition. But she came back horny, too, and I knew I wasn't totally responsible for that, much as I'd like to think I was.
I went to her purse and took her cell phone off the charger. I tried her passcode, her six digit birthday, but she had changed the code. Hmmm. I slipped her phone into my pocket and took her car keys for good measure.
I thought about our talk, and she had basically told me three things. First, a phase of her life was over. The kids were raised and we were financially secure. Second, she had a lawyer who had drawn up divorce papers, but as of yet, she was holding off serving me. And third, she 'was seeing a man'. She had a boyfriend and so far, according to her, they were sharing coffees, holding hands, and touching smiles.
So far.
I knew how fast things could escalate because I had been there myself with Claire Haskell. Without a doubt, I had to drive a stake through the heart of this romance right now. Like yesterday.
My second order of business was me. I was at least 50 lbs. overweight and I had a drinking problem. According to Myra, I was a dud in bed and had been for quite a while. On the plus side, I was well respected professionally and I still enjoyed my work. My weight had gone up and down over the years, along with my drinking, but I knew I could whip myself back into shape because I'd done it before. But for the first time, I considered the need for professional guidance to keep me that way. I had a nagging suspicion I was running out of chances with Myra. What was it she had said last night? Fish or cut bait?
Last night I'd laid down the law about seeing another man, but in the clear morning light I recognized a fundamental truth: Myra was stubborn and she had a self-righteous streak. She would continue seeing this jerk for as long as she was able to convince herself they were 'just friends'. She would never allow me such a friendship with another woman, yet she saw nothing wrong with having a male friend. I knew better than to let this continue because that's how Claire Haskell and I'd gotten started. Sharing a cup of coffee, listening to each other complain about our spouses, eating lunches together, and before long, renting a motel room for an afternoon. It can happen fast.
But if I bear down on Myra she might take it underground, just like Claire and I did, so I had to play it smart. Boyfriend? Lover? I didn't know for sure. My gut told me he was only a boyfriend, so far, but her affair appeared to be primed on a hair trigger to go physical. The way she had dressed up last night? Hair up, heavier than usual makeup, dangling earrings, LBD, CFM heels? I knew what that meant. I should never have let her out of the house last night, but I was too drunk and too prideful and too stupid. But no more.
She denied having a lover and bristled when I referred to him as her boyfriend, but that was Myra. I knew her mind. She had the stubborn ability to deny reality if it suited her purposes. It was a mindset that had allowed her to raise three willful children into competent adults, and get other impossible things accomplished on a regular basis, but sometimes it came at the price of near willful blindness. She was very intelligent but sometimes needed help channeling her energies along the proper path. I suppose most husbands would have gone nuclear over what she had done last night, but I recognized my wife needed my help. I knew I had to control my anger and choke back my pride if I was going to deal with this effectively, and permanently.
I chuckled, thinking how I had pantsed Myra last night and spanked her bare bottom. It was fitting retribution for going out with another man and rubbing my nose in it. That was outrageous, really, and she had really shocked me. I would've never guessed she would do something like that. But in another sense, I was proud of her for doing whatever the hell she wanted. I'd always admired her for that; her strong sense of self and her independent mind. Only this time she'd turned it on me.
It'd be too easy to dismiss this as a one-off, a provocative gesture to grab my attention, but I knew better. This jerk, whoever he was, was a real threat to my marriage. I had to assume he was out to steal Myra, or at least get into her pants. Any man who dates a married woman is an asshole in my book. I had to learn more about my rival and neutralize him, and by whatever means necessary.
The divorce papers were another clear threat, but maybe not so immediate. Divorce is expensive for both parties, even in a no-fault state. I intended to fight like hell if she filed, and I'd make sure she knew that. Nonetheless, I had to see an attorney next week to protect myself.
Then, too, Myra's pride could work against her in a divorce. It's virtually impossible for a marriage to end with any sort of dignity for either party, and Myra valued her dignity. I'd threaten to air all our dirty laundry in the most public way possible if it came down to that. Oh, yes I would! Alcoholism had stripped me of my pride more than once. One more time was no big deal.
I really couldn't imagine Myra pursuing rape charges for my rash digital penetration, or assault charges for her spanking. I knew that was the way of the world in some precincts, but I didn't think that extreme feminist worldview had reached the judiciary in our little city, but you never could be sure. Some grandstanding prosecutor with higher political ambitions might decide this was just the vehicle to further their political career. Combine that with an activist judge, and I could be in trouble.
But her accusations would have a short half-life. Sure, theoretically, she could accuse me months or even years from now, but as a practical matter, staying married to me and sleeping in my bed would let most of the air out of her balloon. Beside, any number of colleagues could be called to testify that I, Dr. Wendell Cooper, was a most gentle and caring physician. I'd kept my drinking mostly hidden and private, so it would be Myra's word against mine if she brought up my boozing. I figured I could counter her by waging a PR campaign, and I knew Myra's tolerance for public humiliation would be low. All's fair in love and war, baby. Nevertheless, I'd talk with an attorney.
Would Myra be openly defiant? Would she refuse to give up her coffee buddy?
Very possible, I thought. Very possible.
Suddenly, and without warning, Claire Haskell popped into my head. I really hadn't thought about her in years but ever since Myra mentioned her last night, she kept showing up in my thoughts. I felt bad about what had happened to her. She'd divorced, been forced to move away from her hometown, raised two young children as a single mother, and it was partly, maybe mostly, my fault. I wondered if she had remarried. I hoped so, and I hoped she'd found a good man. I suspected that her ex-husband, George, had married that blonde airhead he was fooling around with, but I didn't know. There had always a whiff of deadbeat about George, and I wondered if he'd paid Claire her child support.
Claire's two children would be grown by now. Maybe she was a grandmother! That was fun to contemplate. I hadn't seen Claire in 19 years, back when she was still in her early thirties. She was quite a looker back then. Nice figure, too, and in my minds eye I could still see her naked. She wasn't shy about that. She knew how to pose, how to move, and how to break down a married man's defenses. And once broken down, she'd kept me coming back for more, like an eager puppy, until we got caught. Then it was Splitsville and I thought for a time I was going to lose Myra and my children. Myra stayed with me, why I don't know, but I thank God she did. I never want to go through that again.
I heard Myra stirring upstairs and began making her a cup of coffee. Already, I had a plan.
Her hair was pulled back under a hairband, and even free of makeup, she was gorgeous. She always had been. Why had I ever neglected her? I had been selfish and full of self-pity, that's how.
"Good morning, Beautiful," I said, handing her a cup of coffee. "Sleep well?"
She gave me the cutest smile and a peck on the lips, and said, "Sure did. Thanks for last night, and all the attention."
No use avoiding it. Here goes.
"How's your bottom feeling this morning? Still stinging? Still red?" I asked.
