Shirleys Dilemma

1.

"How's Mrs. Swan in 408?" Birdie asked Shirley about midway through the graveyard shift. "She was really cranky when we came on."

"I gave her a little something early in the shift and she is sleepin' like a baby. I hate these long, boring night shifts. Four to four, four days in a row. I guess it's better than all hell breaking loose, which could happen at the drop of a hat."

"Yeah, Shirl, quiet nights suck. Once the lights go out, it's almost always slow on the Rehab floor. Please don't take this the wrong way and I hate to gossip, but while it's quiet, I have to share something with you that you are probably not going to want to hear, and you won't find it boring. It sucks worse than a long night shift, but I have to just say it. Beth, on the dayshift, told me she saw your husband with a woman down at McGlinchy's last Friday evening while we were on our last four days on and they were looking pretty cozy. She said they left together."

"Really?" Shirley asked. "Blonde or Brunette?"

"Didn't say. What are ya gonna do?"

"Nosy bitch, that Birdie. Beth is no better. I'm sure there is an explanation, maybe a sales thing," Shirley thought. "Maybe I'll ask him the day after tomorrow when I see him. When he is home from his latest sales trip."

Four a.m. could not come quickly enough. However, Bud would not be there when she arrived home at a little before five. He was in Chicago, seeing one of his biggest clients. "Hmmm. It's far too early to call his cell. But I will leave him a text when I get home, just to let him know I made it." Being on the second day of four days on, it wouldn't be until Friday morning before she really got to see her husband.

The text she left said "Call me at noon, my time. I made it home and am hitting the sack till then. Hope you are having a successful trip. Love you."

She took a quick shower and then went to bed. But getting to sleep was not happening easily. She couldn't get the thought of Bud with another woman out of her mind, especially considering how good their love life had been, and that they had only been married for four years and were still in the honeymoon stage. She tossed and turned, thinking about the last time they made love. It was heavenly.

It was his striking good looks that attracted her to him in the first place, but what got her to say "yes" to his proposal of marriage was his ability to woo and make love to a woman like nobody she had ever met. Every conversation was out of a romance novel and every session in the hay was like a scene out of a porno movie. His hands were strong but gentle and his lips soft but firm. He knew what to do with a clitoris, and even knew where her G-spot was. And he knew how to work it, and work it he did - every chance he got.

As she tossed and turned, her mind's eye reflected on the image of him in the shower, going down on her and preparing her for what was to be the gold standard of lovemaking she had become accustomed to. She clung to the wall as he tongue lashed her clitoris and sent sparks to her center. Oh, that special and talented tongue.

He had a trick he did. She had seen no one, man or woman, ever do. He would touch the tip of his nose with his tongue, something he did on occasion to signal his readiness to make love. Just thinking of his little trick would get her wet in anticipation of what was to come. Undoubtedly, her.

After their shower, they toweled off and he, as he typically would, picked her up and carried her to the bed, both of them in their birthday suits, dressed for what invariably would be a special occasion. After much kissing, she returned the favor and crawled between his legs to worship his mighty cock. She adored it and honored it as if it was the almighty Himself. As is his habit, if she presented her warm wet cooch to him in the position of a sixty-nine, he would explore and pay tribute to Ernst Grafenberg - a fine tribute indeed. Only he had ever shown me the direct link from my breasts to my vagina.

Once they were all warmed up and the proper genitals were appropriately wet, he mounted her in the traditional way and slowly started by doing the old in-out. They finished with her on top in her favorite position, the cowgirl - riding her stallion to completion. They lay there for what seemed like an hour with him still inside her. When he exited her vagina with a "plop" she immediately attacked his cock with her eager mouth, cleaning it up, hoping maybe she could recharge him and have a second shot of his good loving. She loved the way it tasted, and he had no trepidation about kissing her after she did.

Tossing and turning and daydreaming about their last time was followed by plotting and planning. Could she believe what Beth told Birdie? Was Birdie just being a bitch, or was she truly concerned about Shirley and her marriage? How can she discover if it is true about Bud with another woman? Can she just let it go?

All this came on top of the fact that she missed him so much. He had been gone since before this four-day shift started, and it was almost a week since that last time they made love - something that happened so regularly that the thought of Bud cheating on her never entered her mind. She thought it silly that it was on her mind now and she would not mention it when he called at noon. Like clockwork, the phone rang at noon, minutes from waking her from her brief nap between shifts. Shirley never slept more than four or five hours between shifts when she was on her fours.

"Hey, hey sweetheart," Bud said. "How's my one and only?"

"Glamorous and amorous only for you, my love. When am I gonna see that handsome face of yours?"

"Day after tomorrow, love, and I can't wait to get my hands on you. Will you be done with your four by then?"

"Exactly," she said. "I'll have the time and I have the inclination and I so need my Bud time."

"The stars are aligning, my dear. Let me run. I'll call ya tomorrow at noon. Love you."

"Love you back, honey."

Shirley felt warm after the call. Flushed with feelings. Wet with desire. How could this man be cheating on her? He sounded so genuine. So himself. She went to his dresser and opened his cologne. The scent caused her to swoon. Barely able to get the cap back on the bottle, she fell back on their bed and grasped her tender breasts with desire.

When he got home, she would immediately make passionate love to him and she would know. She would just know that he was being faithful to her. His lips will tell her. His eyes could not lie. But for now, it would have to be twenty minutes with her vibrator and a nice, cool shower.

For the next two shifts, Shirley and Birdie said nothing about Bud's alleged infidelity. They didn't talk much at all, but the tension was clear between the women. And every time Shirley dealt with Birdie on the shift, her doubts about Bud grew. Fortunately for Shirley, the shifts were busy and Thursday into Friday morning was upon her before she knew it. And Bud would be there in bed, either asleep or up and waiting for her.

Either way, she would be ready for him. Her plan was set either way.

Before leaving the hospital, she fixed her face, jumped into her car, and headed home with a lump in her throat and passion in her eyes. She wore her sexiest undies under her scrubs through the last shift in anticipation of seducing Bud the minute she laid eyes and hands on him. She sped the entire way home and hit the brakes so hard when she pulled into the driveway she left skid marks.

The house was dark when she entered, except for the kitchen light, which stood a constant vigil whenever one of the residents was expected home. She sneaked into the bedroom and there was Bud, fast asleep in his pajamas. Not a good sign, as he would often greet her in the buff when she came home from a shift and he was feeling frisky.

She brought her face to his and gave him a soft, wet kiss on the cheek. Nothing. She gave him a little nudge. Nothing. The next nudge was not so subtle. And Bud awoke with a start. But not fully. Bleary-eyed and still half asleep and with the slight hint of Scotch still on his breath, he leaned up and kissed Shirley squarely on the lips. His breath offended her, and she pushed him back on the pillow. "Back to sleep, stud. I'll deal with you later."

Time for Plan B.

Shirley never slept when she got home from the last day of a four-day shift. She stayed up and awake until later at night so she could acclimate to normal hours during her four days off. She would give her husband a half hour to fall back to sleep and then put Plan B into effect.

She took the syringe case from her handbag and from it pulled a needle loaded with 5 cc. of Haldol.

Again, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, which did not rouse him at all. She removed the needle from the case and hit him with a shot just below the sleeve of his pajama top. He didn't budge. She had an expert touch with a needle and he never reacted to the slight pinch.

Shirley knew his cell phone could be unlocked with his fingerprint, she just didn't know which finger it was. All she had to do was wait for the shot to take and she'd have lots of time to figure out what or who was on that phone. Would it show nothing, as she hoped, or would it be a treasure trove of infidelity as she dreaded?

Half an hour later and still in her scrubs, she straddled his body. Nothing. She lifted his right arm and dropped it to the bed. It fell like a stone. He was ready, and so was she. She leaned over to the night table and grabbed his cell phone. She started with his right thumb and applied it to the center of the phone's screen.

Fingerprint does not match

, was the message that appeared on the screen. She took his right index finger and applied it to the screen. Bingo. The home screen lit up, baring the entrance to his entire world of data. She was off to the kitchen to explore and see what the phone had to offer. Or whom?

Starting with the texts, Shirley explored the latest messages on Bud's cell phone. A couple of obvious work messages led to an unknown number with no name, but a picture of a beautiful brunette woman identifying the caller with a Jersey area code. More than the picture, the message sent shivers through her entire body. "Chi was magical." and it was dated last night. Even worse was his reply. "Can't wait till Tuesday night."

Tuesday would be the second night of her next four nights at the hospital. Shirley was crushed. Her passion was replaced by anger. She felt like she could take his life before he even awoke. This did not resolve as she followed the messages to and from Bud and his paramour. Not one message during his last three days out of town. Before that was a discussion of travel arrangements. "She went to Chicago with him. That son of a bitch."

Shirley paced back and forth in the kitchen. By the time she had finished her second cup of coffee, she resolved to explore further to see what else he was hiding from her. What she found stunned her.

There amongst the work texts and those between Bud, her, and his friends were text streams to two additional women. That creep is cheating on the women he is cheating with. He is incorrigible. How much sex is this man having?

Shirley charted out the dates of the texts and the dates they led to. Comparing them to her fours, it appeared he was scheduling dates during most of her shifts over the past several months, at least. Also, his out-of-town trips were not necessarily spent alone. At least three trips with at least one of the women in the last six months. Shirley was fuming. She had to get out of there.

But where would she turn? Who could she speak with about this? Not even her best friends would understand. And she was too embarrassed to tell her sister and her brother would kill Bud if he were to get wind of this. She only knew she had to put some distance between her and him for now. She returned his phone to the night table, threw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt, grabbed her bag, and toward the front door she went. Time for a walk through the mall. Time to shop.

First, though, it's time to puke. She sped to the bathroom and heaved her guts out.

2.

The mall just didn't do it for her; not that she was a 'shop till she dropped' kind of gal. All those stores and the only thing she could think of that she wanted was a faithful husband to go home to. No credit card can buy that and no store offers it. Certainly, she was past that point. She could not stop envisioning Bud's face and body, and wanting him. Despite his indiscretions, she still felt a hunger for him. Her desire was palpable, but so was her anger. So she enacted a new plan. A way to have her cake and eat it, too. She left the mall and stopped at the drugstore to pick up Monistat and a pregnancy test kit just to confirm what her body told her was already certain.

She then went home to face Bud. Still not knowing how she could look him in his eyes, knowing what she had learned. Still not knowing if she would confront him outright or allow him to seduce her. A feigned yeast infection could stop him in his tracks and buy her a week without sex with Bud, something she was definitely ambivalent about. A positive pregnancy test would joyously give him the chance to fulfill his desires - and hers, of the beginning of a family they talked so much about. The ride home would allow her to decide which direction to go. How he approached her at home would probably override any decisions she made during that journey.

During the ride home, all she could think of was what a great lover he was and how much she wanted him inside of her. Then thinking about the part of him she hungered for brought to mind a patient she had dealt with when she was working the ER last year during a shift she worked for a friend. The man came to the hospital with something jammed in his rectum. Unusual but not a first for a busy emergency department in a large metropolitan area, but certainly a first for her. This man's penis was caged, and the cage was secured with a lock. She'd never seen anything like it before and couldn't imagine why a man had something jammed up his butt and his penis caged. Only when his "partner" arrived at the ER with the key could they remove the chastity device. The attending GI doctor then dislodged the object, some sort of plug, from the man's rectum and the man left with a smile on his face and his cage in hand.

By the time she made it home from the drugstore, she knew she had the solution. She would get a cage and lock up Bud's indiscretions and keep him for herself. She could do this, but she would have to do some research and some shopping. Once he was contained, she could resolve the girlfriend problems. With a little luck and the help of a chastity device, she felt they would resolve themselves.

She walked into the house and called out for him. "Bud, are you up yet?" She could smell the fresh shower and feel the moist air as she walked up the stairs to the bedroom.

He walked out with a towel around his waist, hair still wet. Their eyes met, and he reached out for her. His touch drew her to him and she fell into his arms. His soft kiss drew her even closer. She dropped the bag on the floor as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back as his towel dropped to the floor.

Bud looked down and saw the Monistat and the pregnancy test, which had fallen out of the bag. "What's this all about? What is this Moni...?"

"I have a yeast infection. Oh, and I think I'm pregnant."

At that Bud grasped her shoulder, and despite his obvious excitement at the news of her pregnancy and the thought of how she got that way, tried to hold her at arm's length. Shirley grasped his partially distended organ and drew him to her.

"Kiss me," she said, "Take me."

"But," he said, "yeast infection?" That's when she pushed

him

away, upset that he could only think of himself and his needs at a time like this. Any last modicum of passion was now gone and all she could think of was the last woman he was with. She knew her number, and her face, but not her name. Not yet.

"You're taking me to dinner tonight. Make a reservation and tell me how I need to dress. Let me know when and where." Fuming, she picked up the drugstore bag, stormed out of the bedroom and off to the room she used as her dressing area and computer room. She opened the laptop. It's Google time. First things first - reverse search the phone number.

Maria Melo was the woman's name. More personal information than anyone would want to know came courtesy of one of the ubiquitous privacy invading personal information websites. That was the best $29.95 she'd ever spent. Now to Facebook. There she was; pretty as the Mona Lisa and just as popular. Two hundred twenty-five friends and she was willing to bet Bud was one of them. The profile was private, so she couldn't get in to see any pictures other than the front piece.

Pretty enough. Can't make a friend request. Not yet, at least.

Before she could search Instagram, a knock came on her dressing room door and she closed her laptop. "Come in."

"Dinner at six," he said, "Italian. Café Coco. Casual, but nice. Okay?"

"Fine."

"There's still plenty of time for an apéritif."

"No thanks, Romeo, you lost me at yeast infection. Tonight my apéritif of choice is gonna be Monistat. You seem mysteriously incurious about us being pregnant. I'm surprised you haven't asked. I'm also more than a little upset you are not jumping up and down."

"I'm just assuming you believe you are and that we are going out tonight to celebrate. I'll jump up and down after it's confirmed."

"After dinner, I'll pee on the stick and then we'll know for sure."

3.

The drive to the restaurant was a silent affair. Both of them kept their eyes on the road and when he attempted to initiate any conversation whatsoever, she told him to save it for dinner.

She couldn't bring herself to look him straight in the eyes throughout dinner, but he could tell her eyes were burning a hole through the menu. The admixture of tomato-based aromas along with the fragrance of grilled meat and seafood dishes made it hard to make an entrée choice. His stern but curious look made it difficult for her to engage him in conversation. Looking up from the menu, he carried the ball.

"Whatcha havin?" he asked. "I think I'll go with the lamb chops. I saw it being served as we walked in, and it's all I can think of. You?"

"I think I'll go old school. Coco's pasta is the best, so I'm going with spaghetti and meatballs. I could use a good meal with some balls about now."

"That's pretty cold, Shirl. Should I take that personally?"

"You can take it any way you wish. Just putting it out there."

"Boy, you really seem out of sorts. What's really bugging you?"

"I've got an itch I need scratched, and my scratcher has bailed on me. I tell you I'm probably pregnant and you push me away. What do you think is wrong? And what the hell is wrong with you? Where is my horny Harold?"

"Not looking forward to getting a yeast infection. As a medical professional, you should know better."

"Your loss, buddy boy. I'll scratch my own damned itch if I gotta."

"You do what you gotta do."

"That son of a bitch," she thought to herself, "he's been getting so much ass that he couldn't care less about getting a piece of mine. Time for Plan C. And Plan C is gonna hurt. Him more than it hurts me."

4.

After a long sleepy, sexless night, Bud left for the office around eight, without so much as a kiss goodbye. Nothing at night and no morning delight was so unlike him. She almost wished she had a yeast infection to rationalize the itch. This morning she would lie in bed late, taking her vibrator and her hot, horny husband in mind, take matters into her own hands. There would be no getting up early to make coffee for hubby this day. Let him get his own fucking coffee.