by Vandemonium1
This is Alternative Ending #5 of ‘Sprung’. It has the same beginning as ‘Sprung 1 – 4, all the way down to ‘Alternate Ending Number 5’. It stands alone. There’s no sex and it isn’t a complete ending. Use your imagination.
My public service gift to those struggling to start writing is an invitation. Grab any of the stories below you like and do what you will with them. Plagiarise the whole start and write your own ending. Steal one of the concepts and write your own words. Anything you like, just put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and have fun. I desire no acknowledgement for this gift, although a private email to tell me how you enjoyed your writing and publishing experience would be nice.
If you’re worried about your spelling or grammar, or if English isn’t your first language, then feel free to send to me for proofreading. If I’m busy, my partner in crime, CTC, the best damn editor on the site, will muck in. We can do anything requested, from commenting on the story line, to shut-the-fuck-up-and-just-correct-the-spelling. Again, acknowledgement isn’t required. JUST GET OFF YOUR ASSES AND START WRITING.
Many thanks to CTC for the edit and ideas.
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I took in my reflection. The person looking back at me would have to walk the gauntlet past her totally clueless husband. Must appear exactly as described on the packet: a dutiful niece going to look after her frail aunt for the weekend, so her other aunt could have a break. There could be no sign of the woman who was using the story as a cover to meet another man for two nights of who only knew what in his remote cottage in the mountains.
For the last time, I looked for any holes in my cover story. Auntie June was indeed sickly and was getting looked after by my Auntie Peg. Both were widowed, Peg’s husband having died last year. Aunt June’s husband, Nicolas, had been killed in Vietnam in the late sixties and she’d never really gotten over it. She’d chosen to have his body cremated, buried the ashes in the backyard, and built a little shrine. Every visitor to the house was expected to go out and give their regards to Uncle Nick. Auntie Peg was indeed having a break from care this weekend, but June was being taken to Peg’s son’s house while his mum had a respite.
So, discovery methods to scupper my plans?
My husband, Dave, wasn’t on friendly terms with Aunt Peg, so wouldn’t speak to her to confirm or deny my story. I doubt he even had a number for her son. Aunt June had no fixed-line phone, so Dave couldn’t be suspicious when I didn’t answer it. So long as I always answered my cell in the next two days, I was fine.
Could Dave drop in to June’s house unannounced? Impossible. A couple of hours after I left, he was going to the airport and flying out for a weekend business trip. Our two children my sister had already picked up to look after until we both returned on Sunday. His trip was a last-minute thing. Soothing a client who thought there was a huge problem with their mansion design when it was already half built. That wasn’t unknown and no amount of explaining it over the phone allayed their fears. Dave was using the opportunity to stay on site and design the gardens surrounding the house. It would save him a trip later. If I’d known about the trip earlier, I may not have bothered to make such elaborate plans of my own and invited Michael here. No. Too risky. So, with the double surety of my planning and Dave’s trip, I could not envision any scenario where my not being where I was supposed to be, with who I was supposed to be with, was discovered.
The doorbell rang, and I went to the bedroom door until I was sure who it was. It was my husband’s PA, Julie, obviously dropping off last minute stuff for Dave’s trip. She’d been with Dave for two years now and I knew Dave was sponsoring her through architecture school. He often described her as his perfect counterpoint, seeing all the things he didn’t. He even dedicated the award he won last year to her.
Any other wife might have been jealous of a younger, trimmer, better looking, bigger boobed woman that spent almost as much time with their husband as they did, but they didn’t know my Dave. He would be more likely to put his cock in a lion’s mouth and yell, “Dinner time, kitty”, than betray my trust. I trusted him exactly the way he trusted me. A roaring noise in my head accompanied that thought. I was using that trust to abuse that trust and the sudden realisation of that almost made my conscience make me abandon my plans. Forcibly thinking of Michael, only the second guy I’d have had in my bed, taking me while I was still wearing my suspender belt and stockings, my black cocktail dress in a discarded heap on the bedroom floor, stiffened my resolve until the moment passed.
Could there have been anything in my suitcase to give me away? I’d left it open on the bed all morning specifically to show Dave there was nothing inappropriate in it. All the clothes were consistent with my cover story. Sure, there was another bag locked in the trunk of my car, with my cocktail dress and other clothes in it, but as I had the only two keys for my car, all was good. The silky negligee, fancy stockings, and push-up bra with matching panties and suspender belt, had been purchased on the other side of town, with cash. The packaging and receipts were disposed of before reaching my car, and the offending items put straight in the trunk. As soon as Michael saw me wearing them, there was no chance of him chickening out on me. Besides, they made me look sexy, and my confidence needed all the help it could get if I was going to go all the way with this.
That reminded me. Appearance. Was it consistent with a wife going to look after her aging aunt? Let’s see, skirt down to my knees, showing off my calves, conservative blouse. Modest make-up that could be touched up in the car before I got to the cottage. I had considered stopping somewhere to change into something sexier before getting there, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. No, meet Michael at the cabin, an hour in the opposite direction to my aunt’s house. Shower and change into sexier clothes, out to the quiet restaurant Mick had told me about, then back to the cottage for dessert. I’d packed a second dress for Saturday night, but doubted it would be necessary.
I’d once done an adult education course in cooking. The first day we’d learnt that the first bite was with the eye. I hadn’t planned to wear any jewellery apart from my wedding rings, but looking at myself critically, I needed something else. Opening my jewellery box, I chose my current favourite necklace. Was it consistent with the trip? A little over the top maybe, but it helped my confidence so stayed in place. I undid the top two buttons on my blouse and leaned towards the mirror. The necklace complimented my cleavage, far and away my major asset, perfectly. Yes, it was worth the risk.
So, cover story good, nothing suspicious packed, nothing about my appearance to give me away. Was it worth reviewing the precautions Michael was taking with his wife. No. That was much simpler. He was going to their cabin as he did regularly to de-stress. His wife was flying out with their kids Saturday to visit her mum in the next state. All good.
Only one difficult thing remained to do. Getting past Dave and out the front door. Somehow me and my conscience had to make the trip without giving anything away.
No, Dave was always going to be the problem. How would the woman in the mirror feel when he looked at her? When he told her he loved her? Maybe, when he again told her what a lovely person she was for doing what she was doing. Some of it I could cover by avoiding eye contact. I practiced once again in the mirror, arranging my features in a neutral expression. I’d already begun saying goodbye. A passing hug, kiss, and squeeze of Dave, and I was out of there and on the way to my once-in-a-lifetime adventure. A two-day sabbatical from being a good mother and wife. Did I need to run through my justifications to myself again? No. I’d done all that when the decision was made. I’d convinced myself of that absolutely. Otherwise, there was no chance of looking Dave in the eye in five minute’s time.
For strength, I let my mind wander down memory lane a little. I was a standard stay-at-home mum until our youngest, Jenny, started full-time school. Then I started work for a temp agency and did secretarial work where needed. Sometimes, I insisted I could only work between nine and three, so I could drop the kids off and pick them up. Others, I worked later, and Dave altered his hours to leave earlier in the morning, so he could pick them up. After Jenny went off to high school at twelve, I went back to work full-time as we’d decided. I was an intelligent, twenty-first century woman that needed to keep her brain active. I’d picked up my previous career, as a legal secretary, in short order and started with one of the biggest firms in town. That was nine months ago. Dave was home not much later than the kids most days.
One of the senior corporate lawyers was Michael. There had been an instant connection between us. You know the thing, when you feel like you knew each other in a past life. In fact, I’d joked along those lines to him at our first meeting. He’d said that he had once believed in reincarnation, but that was in his last life. His humour was just one of the things that attracted me. He was big and handsome, slightly younger than I, intelligent and quick. I learned about him slowly at first, when we just happened to be in the lunch room together. That pace quickened a little after I regularly chose to eat when I saw him heading there. It got to the point where I felt a little thrill every time I saw him. That thrill had been missing from my interactions with Dave for some time.
I began to suspect that Michael felt the same way when I caught him checking I was at my desk before walking past me with his lunch. From then on, we shared lunch every day and I discovered that in many respects we were a perfect match. Apart from the fact that we were both happily married with young families, that is.
One day, we were alone in the break room when his hand accidentally brushed mine. It was electric. I knew it and he knew it. We put our heads together and made plans to slip out separately the next day for an extended lunch, way on the other side of town. Before we went, I ascertained where Dave was, and Mick did the same for his wife. We did that at least once a week from two months ago until now. Starting four weeks ago, we’d retired to his car, with its tinted windows and kissed. Starting two weeks ago, we’d planned to get away together this weekend. Now.
Don’t get me wrong, we aren’t in love or anything like that. You see, part of our discussions were how sexually inexperienced we were when we married and how, after many years of marriage, we were just a little bored. The sexual tension we felt whenever we were together just threw us both back to when we were young and free. Neither of us discussed what would happen after this weekend. I, for one, was intending for it to be a one-time thing, but was wise enough to know I had a problem on my hands if it turned out to be so fantastic I wanted a repeat.
Glancing at the clock, I saw it was time to go. Deep breath, Sarah. This is the hard part and should be over in minutes. Sure, you’ll probably feel guilty when you see Dave on Sunday, but that’s all right. By then you’ll know it’s all in the past and you will devote the rest of your life to making this fine man happy. Grabbing my small suitcase, I walked into the lounge. Dave was sitting on the couch, staring at a large framed photo that hung above the fireplace. Putting my bag down near the front door, I turned around.
******
ALTERNATE ENDING #5: BTB Rating 2
“I’ll cancel my trip, if you cancel yours, Sarah. We won’t tell your sister and have a whole weekend in bed, just like the old days, huh?”
I pulled him in for another hug.
“It’s way too late for that, darling. Have a good trip, Dave, I’ll see you Sunday night.”
Averted eye, peck on cheek, about face, walk to door, pick up suitcase, straight out door, shaking slightly from the released tension.
I got lost a couple of times on the way to the cabin and arrived at about 5:30. Michael showed me the master bedroom and shower. Of course, he wanted some hanky-panky straight away, but I managed to shoo him off and have a solo shower. I’d brought the dress and choice of lingerie into the bathroom. After I was dry, I decided on which of the undergarments to wear, finally choosing the shelf bra with matching suspender belt. I started putting the panties on, then thought, ‘what the hell’, and left them off. I heard the locked door rattle but held my ground. I wanted him to see this imperfect, forty-year-old, mother-of-two body for the first time in its best light. Preferably, when we got back from the restaurant, tipsy and with the lights down low. I put the black cocktail dress on, adjusted my cleavage, finished off my hair, and ventured out.
Michael wanted to ravish my lips, but I turned so his lips landed on my cheek to preserve my make-up. When I felt the cool night air, I returned to put on the light coat I’d brought. We jumped in my car, less well known to the locals than his, and headed off.
The restaurant was out of the way and quite classy. Most of the tables were for two and discreetly placed for maximum privacy. We were seated, ordered cocktails, wine, and meals, then settled in to build the sexual tension. I could tell Michael almost came in his pants when his exploring fingers discovered I was panty-free and freshly shaved. His voice was husky as he told me his wife refused to shave for him. It was obvious to the passing wait-staff where his hand was, so I reluctantly removed it. Instead, after a look around to see no one was looking, I dipped two of my own fingers into my own dripping sex, then held them under his nose. His nostrils flared before his tongue flicked out for a lick. I love receiving oral sex, so it almost made me cum there and then. I hadn’t been this excited in years. That’s why I was doing this, after all.
We stopped our play when we saw the waiter coming over with our entrees; Oysters Kilpatrick, of course. I excused myself to go and wash my hands. Out of habit, I took my handbag. As I was drying my hands, my cell phone rang with Dave’s ringtone. This was going to be uncomfortable.
“Hello, Dave. I arrived okay. Sorry for not telling you.”
What I heard, in a tone of near panic, shook me my roots.
“Jenny’s been hurt, Paul and I are following the ambulance to the hospital. Can you…”
The connection was suddenly lost. I was in blind panic mode. My baby was hurt. How bad I hadn’t a clue, but parents always fear the worst. I sprinted back to the table and shouted at a bewildered Michael.
“I have to go, now, my baby has been hurt.”
I grabbed my coat just as Michael rose.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Don’t be a bloody fool. Your car is at the cabin. I don’t know when I’ll be able to drop you back. Besides, it will cost us minutes to settle the bill. Catch a taxi back to the cabin. Bye.”
With that, I dashed out to my car and burnt rubber getting to the highway and home. When my overbeating heart had settled slightly, I realised I had two problems. I didn’t know which of the three hospitals Jenny was headed to, but, whichever one it was, I was going to turn up dressed totally inappropriately for looking after an aunt. I would just have to keep my coat on, whatever the circumstances. I tried to ring Dave’s cell to solve the first problem, but it responded like it was engaged. I was in such a panic that an important question never arose.
Why wasn’t Dave on an aeroplane where he should be?
Using the speed limit as a reference only, I ploughed on into the setting sun.
******
Perspective Change to Michael
I sat there, pissed off. Then I cut Sarah a little slack. I would have done the same if the call was from my wife, Laura. I hoped her kid was all right. My mind shied away from thoughts of children. They were an unpleasant reminder that I was intending to shaft another human being, her husband, in the worst way possible, and a reminder, also, of my own wife and children, forgotten and deceived at home.
Family and guilt compartmentalised, the next big question was whether to stay to eat or not. The only upside to this whole frustrating mess was that I got a full dozen oysters. I called the waiter over, cancelled Sarah’s main, and tucked in with the tiny fork they give you. My peripheral vision saw a guy approaching but it wasn’t until he pulled out Sarah’s vacant chair that I took much notice.
“Who the hell are you?”
He just gave me a tired smile.
“I’m not well versed in the etiquette of such things, but wouldn’t it be polite to know the husband of the woman you’re fucking?”
Oh, shit. This was Sarah’s husband, and he was a lot bigger than me and either worked out or had a very physical job. I stood ready to escape. He just half rose, grabbed my forearm and bent it until I had no choice but to sit back down. This was probably going to end in a beating for me, one way or another, so I sought to minimise the anger this guy must be feeling. It might also reduce the chances of him telling my wife as well. The thought of her finding out sent chills down my spine.
“Correction, woman I was going to fuck.”
“What?”
“Future tense. Sarah and I have never actually had sex. All we’ve done is had lunch together a few times and made out in my car. Granted, we were maybe going to do it this weekend, but nothing was certain.”
He stared at me, trying to judge my honesty. I bet he was a good poker player. His face certainly gave nothing away. He stared at me silently. Forgetting all my training, I spoke to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry, man, but I’m a single guy, and your wife is a real fox, we just clicked…”
The guy reached over and grabbed my wrist again. He twisted it and despite me rolling my arm as much as I could, it still felt like it was going to break at the elbow. He looked around to see if anyone was looking, then hissed.
“That was your last lie, shithead. Wife; Laura. Children; Peter, John, and Mary. Nice house on Sunrise Drive. Sound familiar?”
The chills in my spine became red hot flames. This guy had the power to destroy everything that was important in my life. Sure, he’d need evidence of my affair with an office junior to get me fired, but not much to wreck my marriage. I turned and looked at the wall next to the table. It was glass. All I could see from the inside was my own reflection. That meant there were no lights outside and anyone standing in the dark would have a clear view, from potentially very close range, at any recent behaviours at this table. Oh shit! I looked at the guy across from me, who’d just seen where I was looking and must know what was going through my head. He smiled. Why had I not thought of any of the implications of being caught earlier? I’d never thought of myself as arrogant before, but I’d just proven myself wrong.
I considered getting all legal and threatening him with consequences for the invasion of privacy and assaults to date. But my heart just wasn’t in it. I had wronged this guy and he wanted… what were his goals?
“What do you want?”
He smiled, and I knew I’d taken the right track.
“Well, I believe you when you said that Sarah and yourself have never had sex, but I note you toned it down a little with your statement of ‘maybe going to happen this weekend’. Seeing your behaviour before, I don’t think there was much ‘maybe’ about it. If we go back to that cabin of yours, I’ll find two separate beds made up, will I?”
I tried to hold his gaze. I couldn’t. Guilt has a way of making not dropping your eyes impossible.
“So, what do I want? I want to know how and who started all this. Why you and she thought it was okay to behave like this? But, mostly, I want to know how she could lie and betray her family and whether I should destroy my family, and yours, as a matter of fact, by kicking her to the kerb?”
There it was, the overt threat to destroy my happy existence. I kept wanting to kick myself for my actions, but I was in survival mode and couldn’t spare the luxury.
“Of course, you have to forgive Sarah. I can tell she really loves you and she didn’t really do anything wrong…”
The sudden look of rage on the face opposite me registered his disagreement with this idea. He half rose, I’m sure to belt me, then sat again. I watched as he collected himself. When he spoke next, he appeared calm, but his voice contained more than a little hiss.
“Never did anything wrong? Lying to me and her children about where she was going. Stealing money from the family to buy that dress she was wearing and that filthy lingerie. Nothing wrong? Tell me, if your wife met another guy for lunch then went to his car and made out with him; would you think it okay?”
Now it was my turn to be angry,
“No, my wife isn’t a slu… oh dear.”
My head dropped to my hands. I’d been in self-preservation mode since this guy appeared. Now the blinders had been forcibly ripped away. If I caught my wife doing this stuff, I would not be happy. Neither should she be. A deep sense of shame came over me and I almost missed the guy’s next words.
“So why?”
Good question. It was time to answer questions I’d never even asked myself and I had to do it on the fly. Not easy when you have both a bad conscience and a guy whose wife you were planning to bang staring at you.
“Dave, isn’t it? This may all sound a bit disjointed to you, but, honestly, I’ve never questioned myself as to why I was doing this. It started and just seemed to develop a life of its own and keep progressing.”
“Accepted.”
“After our third child was born, my wife developed quite severe PND. She would look after the kids during my work day, but as soon as I got home, she’d dump them on me and go to bed. Our sex life dwindled to nothing, as you can imagine. Within a few months I was exhausted. I got her the best treatment we could afford, and she eventually shook it off, but forever after that she seemed to associate sex with her depression. Since then, I’ve been lucky to get it once or twice a month.”
“Did you suggest couples counselling, sex therapy, or anything like that?”
I just shook my head.
“So, you decided to fuck someone else’s, or more specifically, my wife, instead.”
There was no answer to that, so, avoiding eye contact, I said nothing. Just grouped my thoughts.
“When I was in high school and college, I was a skinny, shy kid, covered in zits. No girls were interested in me. I felt like a failure as a male. My wife just about losing all interest in me, started me thinking along those same lines. It shook my ego. When I was getting plenty at home, I didn’t notice that since I bulked out and gained confidence in my job, women were attracted to me. Didn’t even think of them that way. It got worse when I made junior partner. Power is an aphrodisiac, you know. When the supply dried up at home, I started noticing other women more. After a while, I started to think I was entitled to it.”
I risked a glance at Dave about this point. I couldn’t pick anything from his expression. He used the pause to tap out a couple of texts on his cell.
“When Sarah started at work, I took an instant liking to her and she seemed to like me as well. At first, it started off as just having lunch together at work. She always talked about you and her family and I never thought it would go any further than friendship. Then, one day, my wife and I had a fight over something trivial, and just before lunch time, I asked Sarah if she would come out to lunch with me. A frustrated slap at my wife, I suppose. Anyway, to my surprise, Sarah said yes. We had fun and it became a regular thing.”
Now came the hard part. It actually felt good to unburden myself, but I was increasingly getting towards the point where this guy would take me out the back and beat the fuck out of me. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. It might ease my conscience a little.
“That was all we did for a month or so. Just lunch once a week. All quite innocent and harmless, but totally inappropriate now I come to think about it. Then… ah, about a month ago, after a particularly long lunch, where I’d unloaded about my marital problems, and Sarah offered some advice, we… ah, kissed.”
I braced for violence, but he seemed as if he was hearing nothing new.
“We kissed that day and that was it. The next week we went for lunch, I jokingly said we should get a motel room. Sarah poo-pooed that but then surprised the hell out of me by suggesting that maybe we could get away for a weekend together. We spent the rest of the meal discussing how we could do it. I, for one, never questioned whether we should do it and if she had thoughts along those lines, she didn’t share them with me. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but it just seemed a natural progression. I found her very attractive, mentally and physically, and she had a bit of a crush on me, obviously. We had the whole sexual tension thing going which I hadn’t felt in years. We planned for the next two weeks, then… well, here we are today.”
The guy was eerie with the lack of emotion he was showing. He just nodded to himself.
“What would have happened after this weekend?”
“Buggered if I know. We hadn’t talked about anything like that and I never thought that far ahead.”
“Look into your crystal ball now then.”
“Well, I can only speak for myself, but no matter how good this weekend was, I doubt I would have done it again. Well, once or twice more I suppose, maybe. After that, the risk of discovery would have been too great. I would never want to hurt my wife or have her chuck me out. She and the kids are everything to me.”
I stopped as I realised how utterly stupid all this must sound. For the first time, Dave looked away. I could only imagine the hurt and turmoil he must be going through. Finally, he spoke.
“Did you ever consider the consequences your actions might have on me, or my kids?”
That simple question tugged at my conscience. The thought of being in his position was too big and horrible to contemplate. In sympathy, I answered honestly.
“I’m ashamed to say, I hardly even thought of the possible consequences on my family, never mind yours. I was so sure we’d covered every base and were safe from discovery that it hardly seemed relevant. I was like a teenager again, being led by my dick.”
He just nodded, like that was the answer he was expecting. His pausing gave me time to think like a lawyer again. What could I give this guy to maximise the chances of walking away with minimal damage? I know; hope.
“Sarah really loves you, you know. Yes, she’s betrayed your trust, and, yes, she was probably going to betray it a whole lot more, but you stopped it. There will be no images of us fucking to haunt you. When she finds out how she’s hurt you, she’ll be devastated. If I was you, I’d yell and scream at her but not divorce her. Divorce would only punish you. Split your family apart. Yes, it will take some time to regain your trust in her, but, I’ve come to know her; she’ll never do anything like this again.”
I hoped like hell he took my advice. I didn’t want to live with the knowledge that I’d destroyed his family. Plus, if that happened, he might well retaliate by destroying mine. Which reminded me.
“Um, I don’t suppose you’d consider just beating the crap out of me, would you? Is there any way you’d consider not telling my wife?”
I remembered that Sarah had told me on numerous occasions how strong his belief in family values was.
“If you tell my wife, it will probably kill my family as well. Three more devastated kids, And for what? To satisfy your lust for revenge? Please, just take it out on my hide. I won’t even call the police or press charges, I promise. If I break my word, then you could still call my wife.”
He just stared into my eyes, one at a time, then sighed.
“It’s too late, I’m afraid. That’s what those texts were all about a few minutes ago. I just texted Sarah to say we were back home, so she’ll be arriving there soon. When she gets there, she will find your wife waiting to have a very similar conversation to the one we’ve just had.”
Oh no. It was like my worst nightmare. I could imagine the hurt of the betrayal my wife was feeling like a physical pain. My reflex was to go to her as soon as possible. I went to stand. Impossible with my hand pinned to the table again.
“After you two orchestrated this little betrayal, your wife and I decided that neither of you should have any say in your futures. There are many details we didn’t know. Like how far you’d gone before today and what your future intentions were. Your wife and I intend comparing notes tomorrow. If your stories differ significantly and you’ve lied to me, then there will be a beating, I can assure you. Then we’re going to compare notes on your levels of remorse before deciding if either marriage is salvageable. Neither of us trust our own judgements at the moment; we both married cheaters, after all. Until then, stay the fuck away from me, Sarah, your wife, and your house. If you’re welcome back there, she will call you. Don’t try to ring her or Sarah. Have a nice life, asshole.”
After a quick glance around, he removed his hand from mine, picked up the tiny fork lying next to my barely touched oysters, and with one quick motion, rammed it into the back of my hand. It went through the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger. Stifling a scream, I pinned my injured hand under my armpit to stop too much blood getting onto the thankfully black table cloth. Just as the waiter delivered the main course, I felt strong enough to ask for the bill and called a taxi.
All the while realising that my stupid decisions meant the future was almost totally out of my hands.
******
Perspective Change to Sarah
I tried calling Dave again, but it went straight to message bank. I know about the rules in hospitals regarding phones, so wasn’t that surprised. I judged which hospital an ambulance was likely to take Jenny to and plotted the quickest course. Then I got back to fretting about my baby.
When I got to the hospital, I had the wherewithal to wrap my coat around me to hide the dress, even though away from the mountains it was too warm for it. It took me five minutes to get to talk to the triage nurse. She knew nothing about my daughter; she wasn’t there.
Running outside again, I headed for my car, thinking how to get to the next hospital. My phone chirped with an incoming text. It was from Dave, ‘home now’. What the f…? From flat out emergency to, ‘they’re home’, made no sense at all. I tried ringing him, but it went straight to voicemail. I held my phone, hoping he was trying to ring me, but it remained silent. A second call, then a third also went to voicemail.
I jumped in the car and headed for home, plotting as I went. I could sneak in the front door and if everyone was busy, quickly change. Or, if I was caught, I could say I needed to pee desperately, go to our bedroom and change quickly. Hopefully, Dave would be so rattled by the evening’s drama, he wouldn’t notice how I was dressed.
I coasted to a stop in front of our house and parked on the street, rather than in the driveway. There was no sign of Dave’s car, but it would be in the garage. What there was, was a strange car in the driveway. Confused, I bustled to the front door and quietly opened it. There was no sound from within, so I entered the short hall off the lounge and closed the door as silently as possible behind me. I then poked my head around the corner, into the lounge, prior to dashing to my room.
Sitting side by side on our sofa was an early thirties woman and a girl of twelve or thirteen. Both were staring at me silently. No one else was in sight.
“Who are you and where are Dave and my kids?”
“Your kids are still with your sister. Dave is… well, you’ll find out later where he is. As for us, I am Laura Bailey…”
I instantly recognised Michael’s surname and even though I couldn’t recall him ever using his wife’s forename, realised, with mounting dread, that this was his wife. That meant…
“And this is my eldest daughter, Mary. She wanted to meet the woman that was trying to destroy her family. I wanted her along to hopefully stop me ripping off your head and spitting down your neck.”
I glanced towards the young girl who sat there with a look of loathing on her face. I looked away, incapable of much logical thought with this bizarre turn of events and in the face of such overt condemnation. I’m not a bad person. For the first time, all the potential consequences began to come home to roost in my consciousness and the truth of that last statement came under assault. Here, now, I was the baddie. I was the villain.
“Take off your coat, you stupid woman; you’re sweating like a pig.”
I responded to the authority of that voice and obeyed, throwing the coat towards the door and sitting down opposite the sofa in the only chair available, before my legs gave way. I was still disorientated.
“I…I thought you were going away this weekend.”
“So sue me, I lied.”
“Is Jenny okay?”
“Now the dumb slut worries about her child. Yes, she’s fine, she’s always been fine. Nothing happened to her. It was a ruse to get you back here and stop you sleeping with my husband. He knows I would never forgive him for that, so Dave and I stopped the pair of you while reconciliation was still an option. Unless this wasn’t the first time.”
How do you spell, ‘totally and completely fucking confused’? Obviously, Dave and this woman knew something, well, a lot, really; but what exactly did they know? I couldn’t begin to guess. My optimistic nature minimised the possibilities. That led to the best long-term outcome.
“I don’t know what you think is going on between Michael and myself. But we’re just friends. Yes, we snuck around behind your back, but it was all innoc…”
“Lift your dress.”
“What?”
“Lift your dress. I want to see what panties my husband’s ‘friend’ was wearing to her dinner date with him.”
This time, my only response to her barked order, was to hang my head as my face went crimson.
“I thought so. Now tell me, bitch. Why did you think it was acceptable to seduce my husband, thereby risking the destruction of his family, my damn family, and your own? Dave seems like quite a catch.”
The enormity of that question struck me mute. I’d never considered what I was doing was risking my marriage. I’d been so careful, the possibility of being caught was zero, so the threat to my marriage, nil. What justifications I had used for myself were only aimed at allaying my own guilt and then only to stop Dave seeing it. They seemed so shallow now.
Yes, I was a virgin when I met Dave. But so was he. He was perfectly happy to die knowing no other women, I was a lesser human being for not wanting the same.
Yes, our lovemaking was a little stale due to familiarity. But we’d learned exactly what each other did and didn’t like. Had I done enough to keep it fresh and vibrant? No, I hadn’t. Certainly not in the last six months as my attention gradually focused elsewhere.
And why would I want to feel like a teenager again? Why evoke memories of extreme social consciousness and embarrassing skin conditions? What the hell was I thinking about? Yes, we were young and free at that age. We were also very, very alone.
With a feeling of overwhelming hopelessness, I began crying.
“Oh, no. Your cheap tricks won’t work against me, bitch. Start talking. How many times have you slept with my husband? Do you love him? Were you going to steal him away from us? And why were you doing this? I should warn you that right now Dave is having the same conversation with Michael. One lie and we’ll find out and it’s all over. Convince me to advise your husband to give you another chance.”
I was too confused to take in the significance of that last sentence. The enormity of my guilt, shame, and the size of the task ahead, threatened to overwhelm me. Please god, let me succeed in convincing Dave I’d done nothing beyond redemption. Please.
I opened my mouth and began the battle to save my life.
THE END
So, what happens folks? Sarah and Michael cheated, if only non-sexually. The intent to go much further was clear. Do Dave and Laura take the uncompromising road? Or do they swallow their pride and do what’s best for the family? After all, it’s impossible to split a family without repercussions for the children. That would mean living with someone with greatly reduced love, trust and respect.
To give you some insight into my own values, and I’m not ashamed to say I have some personal experience with a similar situation, I reckon I’d hang around, making the most of the marriage situation, until the children left home, then hit the road. But, to each his own.
The intention was to betray. Absolutely the cheaters should be turfed out. How is it better for children to be raised in homes full of hate and distrust? For them to learn that evil choices have no serious consequences?