Chapter 1
I sat at the desk in my home office, still watching the video clip that had arrived anonymously, as an attachment to an unexpected email earlier that morning. I had almost ignored the message, but the subject got my attention. It said: "Urgent: Your Wife is Cheating on You. This is not spam! Read this email!"
I ran my virus checker against it and made sure that the only thing attached was a link to a video. I must have already watched that clip over twenty times since then. It ended again, and I clicked the play icon, staring in disbelief as it restarted.
The video lasted thirty-one minutes. It was clear, concise and to the point, leaving no doubt about its meaning. My wife of fifteen years, Greta, was cheating on me with her boss, Hollister Avery. The video was captured in high definition with excellent audio quality so that I could make out every word, grunt and groan uttered by either party.
It looked like it was shot in a motel room using a still camera, probably hidden. Neither of the guilty parties acted as if they knew a camera recorded their every word and action. It was clear this was a well-rehearsed rendezvous. They both moved with the precision that comes from extensive practice.
The clip began with them arriving at 11:48 AM yesterday. They walked in and immediately disrobed, placing their clothes on the side table neatly. I couldn't help but notice that the last thing Greta took off was her wedding ring. Hollister stripped the covers off of the bed, then he and my naked wife climbed on, made out for a few seconds, then sucked and fucked. It culminated with him cumming inside my wife's vagina at exactly 12:12. Greta slipped off the bed and went to clean up, returning to dress at 12:18. Hollister reappeared and put his clothes back on. They kissed and walked to the door, with Hollister's hand on my wife's ass, at exactly 12:29.
They didn't speak much at all during the thirty-one minutes they were in the room. Mostly, they moaned and groaned. Greta called out to God a couple of times, then announced she was cumming, just before Hollister let out a loud groan and nutted inside her. Even as they cleaned up, they didn't speak much. The last thing Greta said before the video stopped was, "Do you think we have time to stop by Chick-fil-A on the way back to the office?"
I had heard about men who got turned on watching their wives fuck other men. I wasn't one of them. I watched the video in disgust and horror. Nothing about it was erotic or titillating in any way. I watched it repeatedly, not to satisfy some perverse kink, but to burn the images of my wife's deception into my brain, to memorize every movement, every sound, and every word.
I was about to watch it again when I heard the front door open, and I knew the kids had just come home from school. Instead, I quickly typed out a response to the unknown sender of the video. All I wrote was, "Do you know how long this has been going on?"
Two minutes later, my computer chimed, alerting me that I'd received a reply. "Two years," it said.
"Who are you?" I wrote back, waiting with nervous anticipation.
I could hear the girls in the kitchen puttering around. I needed to greet them and fix them a snack, but I couldn't move.
My computer chimed, and I jumped with a start. There was a reply. I clicked on it, and it said, "Daniella Avery, his wife. We should talk." She included her telephone number. I punched it into my cell phone as I stood and went to say hello to my children.
Chapter 2
I was sitting in the family room, sipping on my third glass of bourbon when I heard the garage door open. I glanced at my phone to check the time. 5:45. Greta was home on time, as usual.
Two minutes later, I heard the kitchen door open, followed by the clicking of Greta's heels on the tile floor, then the jangle of her keys as she dropped them on the kitchen table. I was seated in my recliner, with my back to her. The TV was off, as were all the lights. The sun wasn't down yet, but the room was fairly dark.
I could hear her approaching, as the tone of her clicking changed on the wood of the family room floor.
"Oh, Tom!" Greta said with surprise in her voice. "You're here. What are you doing sitting here in the dark? Where are the girls?"
"They're having a sleepover at the Miller's tonight," I replied stoically.
"Sleepover? On a school night? Why didn't you tell me? Are we going out or something?" She asked. "If so, give me a few minutes to change."
"No, we're not going out."
"Is something wrong? Are you ok? You're acting kind of weird."
I had so many things I wanted to say. I'd thought through most of the script for my speech, but now that the time was here to give it, I found the words leaving me.
"If it weren't for the girls, I wouldn't be here," I finally managed to say.
Greta sat down on the edge of the sofa next to me and picked up the half-empty glass of whiskey, sniffing it.
"Are you drunk? What are you talking about? Why are you sitting here, alone, in the dark drinking?"
"You must really find me pathetic," I said, refusing to look at her. "The poor, stupid husband."
"Tom, you're not stupid," Greta said with apparent sincerity. "You're one of the smartest men I know. What is going on? Did something happen with work today?"
"Pity. That's what you feel for me, isn't it." I took the drink from her hand and drank what was left then dropped the glass on the table with a thud.
"Tom, what are you talking about?" Greta looked scared. She probably suspected what was bothering me.
"Two fucking years," I replied, then chuckled. "Literally. I just want to know why."
I could see her shoulder slump, and her eyes lowered.
"How did you find out?"
"Does it matter?" I asked. "I see you're not even going to try to deny it or pretend it hasn't happened. No, 'It's not what you think.'"
Greta sighed then stood up. "If we're going to talk about this, I need a drink, too."
She picked up my glass, walked to our bar, took out a matching glass, and poured us each a stout two fingers of liquor. She offered me the glass, but I ignored her, so she left it on the table, then sat back down, taking a long sip.
"I won't insult you by denying it," she explained. "I don't know what you know or what you think you know, but if it's what I suspect, then it is true."
"That you've been a cheating slut, fucking your boss, behind my back, for the last two years, and acting like the perfect wife to my face."
My anger was so thick, you could feel it.
Greta frowned. "I don't know how you found out, but however it was, I'm sorry that you had to find out that way."
"So, you're not sorry that you have been fucking him? You're just sorry I found out."
"I'm sorry to hurt you. I want you to know that I have never stopped loving you."
I laughed when she said she loved me. "You say you love me, yet you betrayed me?" I asked. Did she believe what she was saying?
Greta seemed to ignore my question. "You are my soulmate and the person with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. This hasn't affected our marriage for two years and doesn't need to now."
"How can you say this hasn't affected our marriage? I can't believe you don't see how this has hurt us. I look at you and don't know who you are anymore."
"How has it hurt us, Tom? Answer me that."
I couldn't believe what she had asked me. Was she that delusional? "How has it hurt us? Are you fucking kidding me? It has destroyed us. Our marriage is over."
I was doing everything I could to control my temper. In all these years, I'd never yelled at Greta, and I didn't want to sink to that level. I was close to losing it, and the booze wasn't helping.
"It doesn't have to be over, Tom," Greta said with calm conviction. "That's your choice. I don't want it to be over. But, I wasn't asking about the state of our marriage at the moment. I was asking how has my having sex with Hollister ever hurt us in any way. Was I not always a good wife?"
"A good wife? A good wife doesn't fuck other men. A good wife doesn't break her vows!"
"Those vows are medieval, Tom," she said, shaking her head. "This is 2020. Concepts that were important, in the Dark Ages, like fidelity and cleaving only unto, they're antiquated morals that we've outgrown."
"Outgrown? You hadn't outgrown them when you swore before God, our families, and friends to honor them. It wasn't so long ago; what has changed to society in the last fifteen years to make fidelity irrelevant?"
"You're missing the point, Tom."
"What point is that, Greta?"
"The point is, have I ever neglected you or the girls in any way? Have I ever taken even one minute of our time and spent it with Hollister? Have I ever failed to do everything a wife should do? Have I ever not been a perfectly loving wife to you?"
"How would I know?" I answered her question with one of my own. "I don't know when you were with him. As far as I know, you were with him any time you weren't with us. There have been plenty of times you could have snuck off with your lover boy."
