I was surprised to scroll through the Story Idea thread and see you had posted a fantasy interest that you had. Of course this made me stop and think. . .I've just got to indulge you, turn you on a little, even be a bit out there and off the wall. . . at least it would be a challenge, and so I wrote this. . .for you.
****
Brad hurried home, the sound of his wife's voice still playing in his mind. Her voice had been crisp and even, curt really. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong, but it was obvious that he was to come straight home and not bother stopping off at the bar for a drink. Normally, Beth wasn't too concerned about when Brad got him. She knew he'd be there when he got there, but today was different and he sensed she was livid.
He walked into the house and called out for his wife of thirty years. She didn't answer him and for a moment he felt a wave of panic wash over him. Had she left him? But why. . .he'd not done anything wrong. He'd never cheated on her, or hit her, he was the picture perfect husband and their marriage was something Norman Rockwell would have loved to capture on paper. Just as he was about to walk down the hall and call for her again, he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs.
"Hey babe, what's up?" he asked, tossing his sports coat on the coach.
He saw her eyes glare at him and he took several steps back. "What is it?" he asked.
"I found this," she told him, tossing a small object at his chest.
Brad caught it and then swallowed the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat. "Let me explain. . ."
"Explain what?" She stood at the bottom of the stairs with her hands on her hips and her blue eyes locked with his. "Explain to me that for the last few years you've been playing online with folks, exchanging photos and phone calls. . ."
"Beth. . .I. . ."
"No Brad, you listen, if that's what you want that's fine, but you'll not be doing it behind my back."
"It's not what I want. It's . . .I don't know Beth. I can't explain it."
"Well, how about I take a stab at it. You want someone else. Hey. . . I know I've gotten old, put on some pounds, but that's not the problem is it. What you want is upstairs " She turned around and headed back up the steps she'd stomped down.
Brad followed her, confusion and despair etched on his features. "Beth, what do you mean?" he asked, wondering if she meant all the time he'd been spending on the computer with his online friends, or if she meant the type of friends he was chatting with. . .men.
"Come on, HornyDude."
He cringed as she called him by his chat name. Brad walked down the hall of their two-story Victorian home and stopped when Beth opened their bedroom door. He took a deep breath, not quite sure what he would find when he walked in. Would his suitcase be on the bed, packed and ready for him to take it, or had she taken scissors to their photos and cut him out of them? With a heavy sigh and the weight of the situation dragging his shoulders down, Brad walked into the room where he and Beth had made love many times.
"Sit down," she demanded, pointing to a chair he recognized as one of the eight that belonged to the dining room furniture. "Not like that " she yelled as Brad moved to sit on the chair, like any normal person would.
"How?" he asked, not quite comprehending what she wanted.
"Don't be a jackass; strip and straddle it," she demanded.
Brad eyed her questionably. "Beth what's going on?" he asked.
"Do it or so help me God, I walk out of here right now and take you to the cleaners." Her arms were crossed and her jaw clenched tight.
He quickly shed his clothing, knowing full well she was serious. Her father was one of the most sought after Lawyers in the city and her Grandfather still held sway in the Judicial System, even though he was retired.
"You're sure about this?" he asked when the last of his clothing had been removed.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No. . . I. . ." Brad said nothing else. He shrugged his shoulder and straddled the expensive antique chair. "Now what?" he asked.
"Now I'm going to talk and your going to sit there and listen."
Brad sighed. He would never have walked out on her. He wanted to explain what he'd been doing online, but she had yet to give him a chance, or at least he hadn't yet been given a lot of time to come up with a good excuse. His azure eyes tracked his wife's movements. He watched her move to the closet where she pulled out a black bag. When she turned back to him, his eyes grew wide and he started to rise from the chair.
"Sit down Brad," she hissed.