We Need to Tal Jim

I checked!

Stories need to be at least 750 words long to be accepted on Literotica, and that's the exact length of this story. I offer you, my shortest ever story.

No beginning and no end. Just the middle bit, which some find the most juicy.

Please read it for what it is, a snapshot of a couple's relationship.

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I sat there checking the time every five minutes, fearing each time that maybe twenty had gone by. Where the hell was my pretty wife Helen? Why wasn't she home yet? Where the hell was she?

We'd been married fourteen years last Easter, and for the most part they had been near perfect. Perfect that is till the last six months or so, till she'd started her new job as executive assistant to some up and coming City guy.

What the heck exactly is, an executive assistant?

What exactly did that involve?

It's not as if she had to work after all, with all the money I was bringing in. I was more than capable of keeping her in a manner that she had never expected before meeting me.

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Eight O'clock was approaching fast and still no Helen, no wife.

This was bad, really bad. She finished work officially at five, and till six months ago was never home later than five thirty.

Since then?

What was she doing? That was the thing.

Then the tightness in my chest relaxed as I heard her car crunch on the gravel drive outside, the new Jag sports saloon that I had bought her last Christmas.

Helen was home. My wife had come back to me.

I listened as she put the key in the door, and listened as she slammed it behind her. I waited there in my own private, pregnant silence as she no doubt took off her coat and put away her briefcase.

The door opened.

I looked up.

Helen stood there.

I said nothing.

"We need to talk Jim," Helen mumbled apprehensively, a worried look on her face.

"Pardon?" I replied quietly, hearing those dreaded words, and having a good idea what they may well mean to me.

"We need to talk Jim," Helen repeated, her eyes misting up.

"No we don't Helen," I responded to her surprise. Mine as well actually, her opening words not being the way that I'd expected this particular conversation to start.

"We do darling," she insisted unhappily, hardly able to meet my gaze. "I'm truly sorry honey but we do need to talk."

"I don't think so Helen," I reiterated. "At least not yet."

"When then Jim?" my wife asked, hardly hiding her sob. "I think you know what this is about, and it's not something we can pretend never happened."

"In about five minutes or so," I surprised her with. "I'll be ready in about five minutes."

"Jim darling," Helen openly sobbed now. "You know what we need to talk about and I know that you know. What you don't know is how ashamed I am of what I've been doing behind your back darling. But it's over, I swear to you Jim. I just can't do this to the man I love any more."

"Just a few more minutes dear."

"Jim," she screamed at me. "Stop pretending you can put this off. I'm sorry honey, but we need to talk. We need to put this all behind us."

I took a deep, deep breath and let it out in a long prolonged sigh.

Then the front door bell rang.

"Damn it," said my wife angrily. "Who the hell can that be?"

"I'll go and see dear," I told her, wearily raising myself from my armchair.

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"You'd better come in," I greeted the Gentleman stood at my front door. "You're right on time."

With a simple nod to me, the well dressed stranger strode straight by me and into the lounge where my wife stood there with a puzzled look on her face.

"Mrs. James?" the stranger demanded. "Mrs. Helen James?"

"Yes," she replied, a look of horror flitting across her pretty face as she saw what he was holding. "I'm Mrs. James."

"You're served Madam," the man stated simply, and handed over the brown envelope that he carried, before turning round and following me back out to the front door.

We nodded to each other and as quickly as he'd arrived, he was gone.

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Taking a long slow deep breath I went back into the lounge to confront Helen, my wife, who I found stood there, her shoulders drooping, tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed her heart out. She still clutched the brown envelope in her hand unopened. She didn't need to. She knew what it contained.

"Right Helen," I spoke up. "I'm ready now dear. What exactly is it that we need to talk about?"

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There you are! Short and sweet. A 750 word story.