The candles were lit. The table was set. The only thing missing was the guest of honor: my wife, Laura. After seven years of marriage I should have learned to expect this. She spent so much of her time and energy (and my money) being fashionable that she was almost always fashionably late. This was supposed to be a special occasion though. I sat at the kitchen table watching the minutes tick by on my watch.
She was now 45 minutes late when I heard the sound of the her brand new Lexus pulling up. I was so annoyed that I thought I'd just let her find her own damn way in here to me but soon enough I heard the doorbell ring followed by a familiar voice calling, "A little help here?"
I opened the door to find my little blond wife done up from head to toe, in her perfectly coordinated designer top and skirt teetering on 4 inch heels. Both arms loaded down with shopping bags from boutiques with names I couldn't begin to pronounce. I'd say that she had gotten dressed up for our anniversary dinner but the reality was this woman made sure she looked immaculate whether she was going to a formal dinner or going to spend an evening watching TV. She breezed past me with her latest haul and blew a little air kiss over her shoulder before chattering away. "I am sooooooo sorry but the woman at the salon took forever with my nails. I mean, hello? It's not like I grew any extra fingers since last time! And then the place next door had this amazing gown in the window..."
I zoned out a little as I typically did when she would start going on and on like this. Whatever the hell she did with her day would be spelled out in plenty of detail the next time I looked at the credit card statement. She finally started wrapping it up. "...she said they could get them in my size but I'd have wait a couple of weeks. Can you believe that? Anyways, I've been on my feet for long enough. I am wiped the heck out, sweetie. I was thinking I'd grab a glass of wine and... oh my!"
She had wandered into the kitchen to find the table all set. Even with her back to me I knew there had to be a deer-in-the-headlights stare on her face. She pivoted and threw her arms up in the air, shouting, "Happy Anniversary!' with far too much enthusiasm. I picked up the bottle of red from the counter and gestured for her to take her seat. "How about that glass of wine?" I poured two and came to the table. I pulled her chair back like a proper gentleman, pushing it in her for her as she sat. Just for a moment I saw a look of smug satisfaction as she gazed upon the large covered serving dish in the middle of the table. She thought I bought her BS. She looked up at me and asked, "So what's for dinner?"
She was answered by two metallic clicks as the plush handcuffs closed on her wrists, chaining her to the arm rests of the chair. Her eyes bulged for a moment and then a coy smile curled across her lips. "Mmmm, very kinky, Paul. But seriously sweetie I am starving and very thirsty. How about we leave the toys out of it until after dinner?' She pulled the cuffs up as far as they would stretch and shook her wrists expectantly.
I shrugged. "Sure, honey dearest, but let me at least show you what's on the menu first." She rolled her eyes and gave her best condescending smile to let me know she'd play along. I stood at attention like a waiter at a black tie event and lifted the metal dome covering the dish at the center of the table with a flourish. I kept my eyes fixed on my wife's face for her reaction and I wasn't disappointed. Confusion, then shock, and then the color running completely from her face. Sitting in the middle of a fancy silver platter in the middle of the table wasn't food, but photos. Photos taken by a private investigator I had hired. Photos of my pretty little wife fucking a man twice her age. He was tubby, bald, disgusting, and just happened to be my boss. The P.I. had caught them in plenty of places over the two weeks he had tailed her. There were a few shots at a hotel where the blinds were not quite drawn all the way. A few more at his house which looked to be even more palacial than mine. The clearest ones, the ones that couldn't be explained away by even the most desperate of husbands who didn't want to believe, came from my boss' office. Evidently when you're in the corner office on the 15th floor you expect a little more privacy than they got. From the roof of a building across the street the investigator caught them in all their glory. My wife was bent over his desk and practically looking right into the camera, with that sweaty pig of a man behind her clearly enjoying the view as he had his way with her.
What really amazed me was how quickly Laura went from shocked to angry, as if there she was the
aggrieved party somehow. "WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE, YOU SON OF A BITCH?!?' She furiously struggled against the restraints but they held tight. She kicked but with her legs under the table she only succeeded in kicking off one of her high heels. The heavy wooden chair didn't budge an inch no matter how much rage her 105 pound frame could muster.
I took a seat on the edge of the table in front her, projecting all the calm in the world while she stared daggers at me. She was still fighting those cuffs quite hard, no doubt imagining how much damage she could do to my face with those freshly manicured nails. "You know, Laura, I think maybe it should be you answering my questions first. Lets start with, 'why?', shall we?"
She stopped fighting but her tone remained just as hostile. I thought she might at least try to fake an apology but instead she remained defensive and full of accusations. "Because you're never around, Paul! What did you expect to happen? I am a woman, I have needs. Ones that Rick was at least man enough to satisfy. This is your fucking fault if we're being honest. Uncuff me. NOW."
I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to lose my temper. Not yet.
"You want to know why I work all the time? Because for the last six months that asshole has been handing me more and more work. At first he said that the overtime pay would go a long way towards giving that pretty young wife of mine the good life. Then I started hearing rumors that he was dumping his work on everyone so he could duck out of the office and fuck some bitch on the side. I thought maybe if I had proof that he was doing that on company time I could get him fired and get a promotion out of it. Then I saw these."
I picked up a few from the pile and jammed them in her face one by one. "Remember these?"
She flinched as I literally rubbed her nose in it. A picture of them sharing a kiss in a hotel lobby-"that time you had to give Shelly a ride to the airport?" Another of her on her knees, sucking him off as he sat in his throne like office chair-"Or that baby shower for Karen?" A grainy shot of that slimebag on top of her in the same bed he shared with his wife - "What about that flat tire you had a couple of weeks ago?"
She tried to pull away, almost as if she was as disgusted as I was at the sight of her actions. Or it wasn't even her in the pictures, just some trashy tramp we happened to both know. She was finally realizing how bad she had fucked up. The slightest hint of tears started to well up in her eyes.
"Or maybe the question I should be asking is why I shouldn't just put your ass out on the street? The house, that car of yours, these credit cards. All in my name. Or maybe you forgot the terms of the prenup? That infidelity clause applies to you too, Laura. You'd get jack shit in a divorce now. Or do you think Rick's going to take of you like I have, you spoiled cunt? He's married too. Did he forget to mention that or did you just not give a damn? That's what I'm really wondering these days."
"Please, Paul. I...I know I made some mistakes. And that I hurt you. You have every right to be upset but we can work this out. I know we can. Deep down you know that too because we love each other. I love you so much, baby, I just want to make this right again. So, how about you undo these?"
God I wanted to believe that. She could see how badly I wanted that too. She always could read me like a book. I used to think that was what made her a good wife. Now I knew that it was what made her such a good liar as well. I sat there sipping some wine and studying her. Looking for any reason to believe. She must have felt she still had me on the hook. Her next words were going to real me in.
