138 comments/ 280438 views/ 83 favorites Three Tuesdays By: ohio Part One: Finding Out The whole thing started when I went somewhere I'd usually never go. I'd just dropped one of our more annoying clients off at the airport, having listened to an earful of his complaints all morning, and I was in no hurry to get back to the office. It was a dreary Tuesday, and hard to get excited about an afternoon of reviewing contracts. So I stopped off in a drab-looking bar/restaurant about a mile from the airport, intending to have a leisurely lunch and a beer or two before heading back to the salt-mines. I was sitting in a booth, enjoying my beer and wondering why it was so hard to get a decent burger in this world, when my attention was caught by a couple coming into the restaurant. I watched as they settled into a booth across the room from me, sitting side by side. The woman was a shapely blonde, wearing a short skirt that showed off her attractive legs, and a tight pink short-sleeved top. Her companion looked like a thug wannabe who couldn't quite pull it off. He was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket, but he was too skinny for the outfit and he couldn't really manage the swagger he was attempting. You will understand my high degree of interest in this happy couple when I add that the woman was Shelley, my sister, and the guy with her was definitely NOT her husband, my brother Dave. Worse still, they were clearly not just casual acquaintances. They ordered drinks from the waitress and were immediately all over one another, necking unrestrainedly in the booth. As I watched in shock, the guy slid one hand up her thigh until it disappeared under the short skirt. Shelley broke their kiss and let her head fall back against the back of the booth, sighing. I could see her hips begin to rotate in response to his probing. The question wasn't whether I was going to do something about this—that was a given. The question was, would I be able to restrain myself from beating the shit out of both of them right here in the restaurant? I'd never liked Shelley. I didn't like her when my brother started dating her, and I was pessimistic when he fell head-over-heels in love with her and announced, after just four months, that they were getting married. Dave was just 23, and I was sure he had no idea what he was getting into, but there was simply no way of telling him that. Shelley was the moon and stars to him. To me she was a pretty, cheerful, somewhat shallow and selfish girl, not nearly as smart or as interesting as Dave himself. She was bubbly and vivacious, which my fun-loving brother adored, and it seemed to me that they both had the same favorite person: Shelley herself. He would do anything for her, and that's how she liked it. To my pleasant surprise the first three years of their marriage seemed to have been very happy—but the scene playing out 30 feet from me suggested that the happy days were over. The asshole she was with now had his other hand on Shelley's breast, and was kissing her neck as he worked her over. Her eyes were closed, so she didn't see me approach and was startled—to say the least—when I sat down across the table from them and said, "well hello, Shelley, what a nice surprise!" It was comical, actually. Her eyes popped open, and her asshole boyfriend pulled his hands off her and spun around to look at me. Her face was momentarily startled, then stunned, then truly shocked—her jaw dropped and she froze, staring blankly at me. His face held the same startled look for a moment, then turned annoyed. Before he could speak I went on, cordially, "how have you been? How is Dave?" Then, turning to the asshole and extending my hand, I said, "my name is Will. I'm Shelley's brother, her husband's brother." His eyes went wide; he sat frozen, ignoring my hand. Shelley began to recover herself a little, babbling, "Will! What . . . what a nice . . . surprise! This is Robby, he's a . . . he's a friend from . . . an old friend." "You have your fingers all the way up in her pussy there, Robby?" I asked, still smiling in a friendly way. "It looks like you were really getting her going!" At this Shelley gasped; apparently she'd been hoping I hadn't seen what they'd been up to. Robby suddenly jumped up, mumbled, "I gotta go," and without even a glance back at Shelley walked swiftly out of the restaurant. "Seems like a nice guy," I said casually to Shelley. "Why'd he leave so suddenly?" Inside I was absolutely icy with rage. My brother adored this woman, would do anything for her, and this was how she treated him? Fucking around with some lowlife with greasy hair and a bad Matt Dillon mustache? Shelley looked terrified; her face was white. "Will, I . . . I think you must have gotten the wrong . . . idea. We were . . . we were just . . . ." Her voice trailed off. She had no idea how to end that sentence. I watched her for a minute before I spoke. "You lousy, cheating whore." I kept my voice down, but I'm sure my fury was very obvious. "Dave adores you, gives you everything you could ever ask for, but that's not enough for you, is it? You've got to go fucking around behind his back with sleazy jerks like this guy? How long has this been going on, huh? How many other guys are you screwing? What do you think Dave will think about all this?" "No Will! Please!" she grabbed my hand and clutched it desperately. "Please, please, you can't tell him—please! I'll do anything!" I just looked at her. Not tell him? Not tell my only brother that his wife was cheating on him? Shelley was either dumber than dirt, or too stunned to be thinking clearly. Dave was my best friend, and had been since we were kids. I'd do anything for him, and even Shelley had to realize that. I pulled my hand free of hers. "Why shouldn't I tell him? Doesn't he deserve to know who he's really married to?" Her eyes were wild, and I could see her thinking frantically. "Listen, Will, you can't tell him! He'll be so hurt! . . . Will, if you don't . . . if you promise you won't tell him . . ." I sat back with a smile. This should be good! What was she going to offer in return? To fuck me too? Shelley seemed to decide something, and her expression changed. "Will, if you promise not to tell Dave, I'll tell you the whole story about Anne. She's doing it too . . . she's been cheating on you." I laughed out loud. "That's good, Shelley! I wondered what you'd come up with, but I never thought it would be anything as far-fetched as that. I'll give you credit for imagination." Shelley just looked at me steadily. "I'm not kidding, Will. She's been . . . seeing this guy from the health club. For at least a couple of weeks now." Her certainty rattled me a little; but I knew it was impossible. Anne and I had been together since our sophomore year at Kenyon College. We'd moved in together after graduation, and gotten married a year later. That made 7 happy years of marriage, and 10 years together all told. Anne was devoted to me. She was sensible, kind, thoughtful, and the most honest person I knew. And she loved me. I was sure of it, as sure as I was of my own love for her. Shelley leaned forward. She must have sensed my confusion. "I'm telling you the truth, Will. Anne told me about it last week. She said he . . . he was very large." I watched her face, trying to pull my own thoughts together. Shelley had gotten over her own terror, at least for the moment. She looked calm and in control—like someone who knew what she was doing, rather than someone spinning a wild and desperate tale. I still couldn't believe what she was saying. But suddenly I couldn't dismiss it, either. At first Anne had been pretty reluctant about joining the health club, and for a couple of years I'd used the exercise room much more than she had. But lately she had become a regular, working out three times a week. And there had been a couple of odd moments at home lately, moments when she seemed to avoid my eyes, or to be a little pre-occupied as we sat at the dinner table. I looked back at Shelley, who seemed to be waiting for my next move. There was no way I would conceal her adultery from Dave, but she didn't have to know that. and I absolutely had to know the truth about Anne, one way or the other. "All right, Shelley," I said slowly. "Maybe we can come to an agreement about this." I thought some more, then went on. "I'm not about to let Anne run around on me. If you can help me get the goods on her, then I won't tell Dave what I've seen this afternoon. That is, if you fucking SWEAR you won't see that asshole Robby again—or any other man besides Dave." Her face glowed with relief. "I swear, Will—you have my word on it." Like that was worth anything to me! "What do you want me to do?" she asked me. "I want to hear all about Anne's affair from Anne herself—in her own words. I'll give you a tape recorder to hide in your apartment. You invite Anne over, give her some wine, and make girl talk with her. Get her to tell you all about it. I want to know who the guy is, when and how it started, how often she's been with him, and why. WHY she thinks it's OK to be fucking some other guy behind my back." As I spoke to Shelley I realized that I was already half-way believing her crazy story about Anne cheating. The idea infuriated me. Shelley was nodding. "OK, Will, I can do that." "You'll probably need to soften her up—make sure you tell her the details about your affair too, so it will feel like a real intimate conversation. By the way," I continued sarcastically, "is Robby the only one who's been getting into your pants, or are there others?" "He's the only one!" she said quickly, flushing, and I didn't believe her for a minute. *** *** *** *** Twenty minutes later I was driving back to the office, thinking grim thoughts about the end of Dave's marriage and the possible end of mine. You might think my first call would have been to Dave, to tell him what I'd seen Shelley doing—but I knew I couldn't do it. I had always been the steady older brother, and Dave the charming and outgoing younger one. He had lots of girlfriends in high school and college—though none of them lasted all that long—because he had no shyness and could talk to anybody. One of his college roommates said once that Dave "could talk the pants off a snake". It actually makes no sense, when you think about it, but we all knew what he meant! But for some reason, when Dave met Shelley everything changed. Instead of being the charming, confident guy who had women pursuing him, he became the lovesick schoolboy. Within a month or two Shelley had Dave completely mesmerized; he was determined to marry her, and no one could even attempt to talk him out of it. Dave absolutely worshipped Shelley—to him she could do no wrong. I'd once made the mistake of mildly criticizing her about a tactless remark she'd made to our mom; he blew up and wouldn't talk to me for a week. So I knew I couldn't speak to Dave until I had the tape. He simply wouldn't believe she was cheating unless he heard the words from her own lips. I realized that I was hoping against hope that somehow Shelley was just lying or wrong—that Anne was faithful to me—but it seemed less and less likely. Shelley could have lied to me out of desperation, but then I would just have been even angrier when I learned it was all bullshit. When I got to my office I took out a pad and made some notes about what steps I'd have to take if the worst turned out to be true: credit cards, selling the house, title to the cars, etc. How I hoped I'd be able to throw that sheet of paper away in a few days! When I got home at dinnertime, Anne was cheerfully humming in the kitchen as she put food on the table. She greeted me with a big hug and a kiss, and seemed the same loving wife I'd been happy to see at the end of the day for the past 7 years. I knew I'd have to conceal my suspicions for a few days, play the innocent husband, but it wasn't easy. I loved her, but underneath the surface I was furious and hurt—and not sure whether I should be. We chatted amiably through dinner; but during dessert when she mentioned she'd worked out at the health club that day I couldn't resist a little probing. "You've been so conscientious about your workouts lately, sweetheart," I said casually. "Are they giving out free ice-cream down at the club these days?" She laughed, but I noticed a slight flush come to her face. "No, honey—I've just been enjoying how good it feels to have a good, sweaty workout, then shower and come home to my loving husband. Plus, a few weeks ago those black slacks you like were starting to be a bit too tight for me—now they fit perfectly!" She beamed at me affectionately, and I was struck by how lovely she looked and how much I cared for her. God help her if she really was fucking around on me! And God help me too.... *** *** *** *** Never mind what the court calendar officially said; my marriage actually ended exactly one week later, on another Tuesday. Shelley and I had set it all up. I got a small tape recorder for her to hide in her living room, and she arranged for Anne to drop in for lunch on Tuesday afternoon (Anne had a day off from work, and Shelley doesn't have a job). I sat all that afternoon in my office, pretending to work, thinking only about what the women were talking about and what it would mean for my life. At 4:30 Shelley called and said, "we're all done—Anne's just gone home." "Did she talk to you about it?" I asked, still praying this was all a mistake. "Oh, yes!" Shelley giggled. She was obviously a little drunk. "I told her about Robby, and she told me about Marion. ALL about Marion!" She giggled again. "It seems he is a REALLY big fella!" I realized I was squeezing the phone so tight my fingers ached. "All right," I said. "I'll drop by in twenty minutes." When I got to Shelley's she met me at the door with the tape recorder in her hand. "Now remember, Will, you promised . . ." "Yes, Shelley—he won't hear a word from me." "And you can't let Anne know that I taped her—ever! Or else she'll be furious, and she'll tell Dave." I just nodded, then turned and left. That evening was one of the most painful of my life. I knew I couldn't listen to the tape until Anne was asleep; until then I had to keep pretending to be the loving husband. Anne was still a little tipsy—she told me she'd spent the afternoon with Shelley and had a lot of wine—and what's more, she was amorous. No, make that horny. As soon as the dinner dishes were cleared she was dragging me towards the bedroom, saying "honey, have you got a little something for me tonight?" in a flirtatious tone. Could I do this? Did I want to do this? It occurred to me that it might be the last time I'd ever have sex with Anne. and I was still hoping, hoping against all reason, that she might not have been unfaithful. So I followed her into the bedroom and we fucked. It wasn't making love, at least not for me. My heart was too torn and my mind too worried. Anne seemed oblivious, though; she was eager and responsive. She began by sucking me, which she often resists, and when we got around to screwing she came more easily and quickly than usual. For me it was bittersweet, pleasurable but incredibly sad. We rested for a while in one another's arms, then did it again. A few minutes later, Anne was fast asleep, snoring gently on her side next to me. I sat in the guest room, the door closed behind me, and listened to the tape. The first few minutes of conversation between Shelley and Anne were breezy and casual. Shelley kept the wine flowing, and after a little while told Anne she had a "confession" to make. She went on to talk about her affair with the asshole (Robby). It was quite clear that Anne knew about the affair already—Shelley was just giving her the juicy details to soften her up. In fact, Shelley did her job beautifully. She even confessed with a laugh that Robby was just the latest, not the best—that had been a guy named Ellis, but unfortunately he'd moved out of town. Anne giggled and pretended to be shocked, but she seemed to be enjoying the story. Listening to the sleazy story didn't have much effect on me. I already knew what Shelley was, and the explicit details would just make it that much easier to convince Dave that she really had cheated on him. I waited anxiously for what I knew was coming, resisting the urge to fast-forward the tape. Finally Shelley turned the conversation to Anne: "So, sweetie, let me hear YOUR story now!" She giggled. "All you've told me is that you met him at the health club—and that he's, ah, 'well-endowed'!" My body froze at the sound of Anne's voice, as she laughed and said "oh yes, he's amazing. By far the biggest one I've ever seen—or felt!" She giggled and went on. "I didn't think it would even fit inside me at first. But oh my God, does it ever fit!" At that, both women laughed hard. I stopped the tape and sat back in my chair. My marriage was over; did I even want to hear the rest? I could let my lawyer listen to it. I thought for a while, then switched the machine back on. I might as well face it all now—get the whole story out, deal with all the anger and pain, and begin to figure out what the rest of my life was going to be like. "How did it start?" Shelley was asking. "Well, the first thing I've got to tell you is that I never meant to cheat on Will. I still can't believe I'm doing it, and I feel terrible about it. He and I are so happy together, and I know he'd go crazy if he knew about it. I guess I've just got a bad case of BCF!" She laughed, and I heard Shelley say, "BCF? What's that?" Anne laughed again, and said, "I'll explain—just give me some more of that wine. "You know I've been going to the health club for a couple of years now. Working out really bores me, but I just didn't want to get saggy and have Will start to lose interest, you know what I mean? Anyway, a couple of months ago I started seeing this new trainer working there—very hot. Not that tall, but broad shoulders and amazing muscles. His name is Marion of all things, can you believe it? "He flirts a lot with all the women, helping them set up the machines, racking weights for them, spotting while they lift, and so on. One day I saw him talking quietly with Patty McAllister, a woman I used to work with. She's a redhead, really stacked. Well, I watched them chatting, then he disappeared into his office at the back. A couple of minutes later I happened to glance around, and I saw Patty quietly go into the office. "I smiled to myself, since it was clear what was going on. But I still didn't think much about it until later. I'd finished my workout and was starting to change in the locker room when Patty came in. Boy, did she ever look well-fucked! She had that dreamy-eyed look and a vague smile, all happy and exhausted at the same time. "I said, 'Hi Patty, what's up? You look awful happy," and she grinned at me and said "OH yeah. I've got a bad case of BCF!" "I said, 'BCF?' and she giggled, looked around to make sure no one could hear her, and answered, 'Big Cock Fever!'. "Then she sat down and told me all about her and Marion—how he was a sensational fuck, had a nine-inch cock, really thick, and it drove her crazy. He'd been flirting with her, and then one day got her hot enough to talk her into his office. Since then they'd been screwing whenever she could get to the club. She said he was incredible, the most crazy sex she'd ever had. "Needless to say, that got my attention—but I still didn't plan to do anything about it. Patty's divorced, she can play with whoever she likes. But I'm a happily married lady! "Still, over the next couple of weeks I got more and more curious about Marion, responded with more interest when he flirted with me. He'd brush against me or touch my shoulder while 'helping me' on the machines, you know? Three Tuesdays "Then one day I was doing bench presses. The place was pretty empty, no one around, and he came and stood just behind my head, as if to spot me. As I looked up there were his shorts, right above my head—and there was that monstrous package, bulging out like crazy! I couldn't believe how big and thick it looked in his shorts! "He just smiled down at me, knowing what I was looking at. I almost dropped the bar on my chest, but I managed to finish my reps. As I put the bar back up on the rack, he took my hand off the bar and slid it gently down over his shorts. His cock felt as enormous as it looked, and it was hard as a rock! "I could feel myself blush—I started to pull my hand away, but he kept holding it, kept just rubbing it up and down his cock. It was like I was hypnotized. I couldn't stop, I just kept looking up at him and stroking him. "Then after a couple of minutes he gently pulled me to my feet, looked around to see no one was there, and led me by the hand into his office. I wasn't thinking, I was kind of dazed. I remember my panties were wet. "He locked the door behind us, sat me down in a chair, and without a word pulled off his shorts and stood in front of me, letting me gaze at that monster cock. You know, Will is about six inches or so, not the biggest I've ever had but far from the smallest. But Marion's is just in another league. It's so long, and twice as thick as any other cock I've ever seen. "I swear I wasn't thinking at all. I looked at it; then after a while I took it in my hands and started stroking it, watching his face as he smiled at me. Then God help me, I leaned forward and started sucking him! I could barely get it into my mouth, but I worked at it until I had about half of him—that was as far as I could go. "After a few minutes he pulled out, stood me up, gently took my shorts and T-shirt off me, and laid me down on his couch. Then he climbed on me and started rubbing that monster all around my pussy lips. I was amazed at how soaking wet I was, even without being touched. When he started easing into me, I went nuts. "I couldn't believe how good it felt! I was groaning and shaking, and by the time he'd gotten it all the way inside me I was ready to cum. All it took was 3-4 strokes and I was trembling and gasping, the most intense orgasm I've ever had. "Of course, that didn't stop Marion. He just kept stroking in and out of me, steadily, and I came and came. By the end I was screaming, and he had to cover my mouth with his hand! By the time he finished I was beside myself—exhausted, and totally fucked-out." "Wow!" said Shelley, and it sounded like she really meant it. "That sounds unbelievable—and I assume you've kept seeing him?" "Well, that day I just drifted out of his office and into the shower, all dreamy and weak in the knees. I was wiped out, you know? Then by the time I cleaned up and got home the guilt was killing me. I couldn't believe I had cheated on Will! And I was terrified—I just KNEW he'd see it in my eyes as soon as he got home. "But, amazingly enough, he didn't. That night was normal, he didn't suspect a thing. He even wanted to make love, but I was afraid he'd feel how loose I was so I told him I was too tired. But the next night I really gave him the full treatment—we did it until he couldn't get it up anymore. "For two weeks I stayed away from the gym—I just knew I couldn't be anywhere near Marion without being tempted again. Finally, I told myself it had been a one-time thing: I was a grown woman, with a wonderful husband, and I could resist him. So I started going back. "And the first couple of times it was fine. Marion winked at me and flirted a little, but he left me alone. And I thought, 'this is OK, I'm over this', and I relaxed my guard a little. Then about a week after that, he caught me again at the bench, and the room was empty, and he got my hand on his dick . . . "And in no time you were back in his office," Shelley finished her sentence. "And it was even better," Anne said, kind of dreamily. "I can't really describe it, Shelley. I love sex with Will—he's big enough to fill me up just right, and we always satisfy each other. I'd never even been tempted to fool around before. There's a guy in my office named Alex, incredibly cute and a total flirt. He had a lot of success with the other girls, but he never got anywhere with me. I just wasn't interested. "But with Marion it was like... like I'd never even been fucked before. When he's all the way inside me it feels like he's gonna pop out my throat! And the thickness—that's what does it. That cock just stretches out my lips—I can't believe I'm telling you this!" she said, giggling. "But it stretches me out, and pulls my clit down, so that it gets rubbed and stimulated with every stroke. It's just unbelievable—the sensation is so intense! Every time we do it I come again and again and again... "It's not even that there's anything special about Marion's technique. He's just a steady, in-and-out guy, no imagination or passion. I'm not the least bit interested in him, as a person or a lover or anything. But that dick of his is just God's gift!" She laughed again, and Shelley joined her. I listened to the two of them and felt the anger coursing in my veins. I sat through the rest of the tape, but there wasn't much more. Once he'd fucked her a second time, Anne gave up all attempts to resist. She'd been doing him 2-3 times a week for nearly a month, and there was no sign she was ready to stop. In fact, she said that she'd been enjoying sex with me more lately as well, perhaps because her secret was kind of a turn-on. It was clear that her "BCF" had overcome whatever guilt she might be feeling about betraying me. Me, the love of her life, her husband of seven years, the man who was completely devoted to her, and who still remembered what "forsaking all others" was supposed to mean.... Part Two: Dealing with It It took a while to think through my plans, and it was 2:30 am by the time I went to sleep in the guest room. I was done seeing Anne, sleeping next to her, or even talking to her. I slipped into the bedroom and got clothes for the next day without waking her. At 6:30 am I was up and out the door. I left the briefest, coldest note I could without tipping Anne off (say, by calling her "You adulterous bitch"): "Have an early meeting—sorry, forgot to mention it last night— W" At the office I made two copies of the tape, and by 8:30 I was on the phone. My best friend from college worked at a law firm downtown. "Hey Eddie, it's Will. I have a big favor to ask. Could you get me an hour this morning with the meanest, most bloodthirsty divorce lawyer in your firm?" There was a silence, and then he said, "oh my God, Will—not you and Anne? I'm so sorry..." We talked a little longer, and at precisely 11:15 Eddie showed me into the office of Margaret Adamson, a lead partner in his firm. Eddie had told me she was absolutely terrifying—"when she swims in the ocean, the sharks get out of the way" is how he put it—and Margaret's look and handshake confirmed that she meant business. I was already glad she'd be my attorney and not Anne's! I played her and Eddie Anne's part of the tape; after hearing the first few moments Margaret picked up her phone, said "hold my calls", and we listened to the rest. When it was over we sat in silence for a minute; then she just said, "OK—what do you want?" "I want to divorce her—for adultery, none of this "irreconcilable differences" bullshit. I'll be reasonable about our savings, but I want the house. And she has to take her maiden name back—she doesn't deserve to be Mrs. Will Harris any longer." Margaret nodded, looking at me intently. Then she said, "excuse me, Will. Can you let me and Eddie knock the legal details of this around for a few minutes?" In no more than five minutes I was back in her office, and she was raring to go. "The divorce is easy, and there's no way she will refuse your terms. Now, you should know that the tape will be inadmissable since she didn't know about it. Oh, by the way, will the other person—your sister, you said?—testify that it's authentic if necessary?" I grimaced. "This is where it gets complicated," I said, and explained about Shelley's cheating on my brother, her offer to me, and what was on the first part of the tape. "I haven't told my brother yet, but I have to—he's going to be as devastated as I am, and I can't keep it from him. In fact," I said, with an ironic smile, "I wonder, Margaret, whether you'd consider handling his divorce as well?" She just looked at Eddie, then back at me. "Let's start by hearing your sister's part of the tape." I played it for them, and then Margaret and Eddie again huddled without me for a few minutes. When we were sitting together again she said, "quite a pair of wives you two picked". She saw my face and said, "I'm sorry, Will—I shouldn't have said that. "Here's the situation. In all probability the tape would not be admissable against Anne, because she didn't know it was being made. On the other hand, Shelley could be subpoenaed and made to testify as to what Anne told her, so it shouldn't make much difference. Once Anne's attorney hears the tape he won't be in much position to fight. "In your brother Dave's case, the tape IS admissable, because Shelley knew she was being recorded. So she's got no defense whatsoever—that divorce will be easy, as long as he's not totally unreasonable. "Then there's the health club. We can sue both them and Marion. Marion won't have much money, presumably, but Eddie and I can pretty much guarantee you a nice big check from the club—somewhere in the high six figures to a million and a half. The tape could be used in a civil lawsuit, and there's no way in hell they would ever let this get into the newspapers. Think of all the husbands who'd be canceling their wives' club memberships!" She laughed for a moment, though even then she still looked scary. Margaret said she'd get the divorce documents started, and Eddie walked me out of the office. "I am so sorry, Will. Margaret will get you what you want, I guarantee it—but I still feel terrible about what's happened." I tried to smile. "It's okay, Eddie. This just means you and I will have more time to play tennis together." I thanked him and left. The rest of the day I submerged myself in details. I arranged a locksmith to meet me at the house at 4:30. I made a dinner date with Dave, so I wouldn't be around when Anne came home. I cut off her credit cards and arranged separate accounts for our money. And I wrote her a note. It took several tries. Not easy to say goodbye to the love of your life, even under these circumstances. When I finally finished it I put it in an envelope, wrote Anne's name on the front, and took it home. The locksmith finished by about 5:15. I had a beer, sitting by myself quietly in the kitchen, then I taped the note to the outside of the front door, locked it, and left. I knew Anne would be home between 6 and 6:30. I idly wondered which she'd do first, try the door and find her key didn't work, or read the note. ** ** Our marriage is over. Now you'll be free to play around all you want with Marion and his big cock. I've had the locks changed. If you want to get your clothing and personal things, call my attorney. [I left Margaret's name and number.] She'll arrange for you to have supervised access to the house when I'm not here. I won't be talking to you again. You broke my heart. I loved you as much as any man can love a woman, and I looked forward to our growing old together. Too bad our marriage vows didn't mean as much to you as some sex with a big dick—or as much as they did to me. ** ** When Dave joined me for dinner he could tell right away that something was up. We ordered, and I just took a deep breath and said it. "Anne's been cheating on me. I'm divorcing her." He stared at me, literally open-mouthed. I'm not sure I'd ever seen that before. "Oh my God. Will—my God. Anne?! Are you sure?" He took a look at my face and said, "shit, sorry. Stupid question. Do you want to tell me about it?" I did, while we sat and ate. The beers helped, but sharing my hurt and despair with my best friend helped more. He was 100% on my side, no divided loyalties, and it meant a lot. Towards the end of dinner I said, "there's one part of it I haven't told you. Shelley is the one who got me proof. She taped a conversation of her and Anne talking, and Anne told her the whole sorry business." He looked at me sympathetically, and said, "I am just so sorry, Will. and I hope it won't make you angry, but—I feel so lucky, you know? Having a fantastic wife like Shelley. I'm not surprised she helped you, she's always liked you. I know you haven't always approved of her, but she's..." I couldn't let him continue—it was killing me to hear him say these things about his slut of a wife. I interrupted in the middle of his sentence. "Listen, Dave, wait. Don't say anything else. Let me pay the bill, and I need you to come back to the house with me." There was a note stuck under the screen door, marked "Will" in Anne's flowery handwriting. I dropped it on the hall table without reading it and led him into the guest room. "Dave, listen—this is serious. You know I love you, you're my best friend, and I would never do anything to hurt you, right?" He regarded me warily; we didn't usually talk to each other that way. "Of course, Will? What the hell...?" "You need to hear the tape Shelley made. Just sit here and listen to it. I'll be in the other room." I rewound the tape to the beginning and pushed the tape recorder over to him, ignoring his surprised look, and left the room. I couldn't stand to be there while he listened. There was quiet at first, except for the murmuring of the voices on the tape. Then a crash, and I figured Dave had thrown an ashtray or something. I heard him pacing, the tape still playing, and then finally silence. He stomped into the kitchen, staring at me wild-eyed. "You son-of-a-bitch!" "Dave, I..." "You must have enjoyed this, you cocksucker! Knowing the truth about Shelley and keeping it from me—letting me go on and on about how wonderful she is!" "No, Dave, it wasn't..." "This must make you feel just great, you prick! You've always hated her, and now you can smile at me and say 'I told you so' for the rest of your life. You bastard!" I stood up and raised my voice a little. "Dave, what did I just find out about Anne? You think I'm having such a great day?" I glared at him, and gradually his face relaxed. I saw his shoulders sag, and he unclenched his fists. He sat down at the table, looking like an old man. I imagined I'd looked like that a lot lately myself. "Sorry, Will," he said finally. "I know you're hurting just like I am. It's just...you obviously knew about this, why didn't you tell me?" "Dave," I said, as gently as I could. "You know how you are about Shelley—you would never have believed me. Remember that fight we had, when I criticized something she'd said to mom? I found out about Shelley a week ago, and I knew that I couldn't possibly tell you—you had to hear it for yourself. I only got the tape from her yesterday." The two of us emptied a few beer bottles while I told Dave the whole story. I began with seeing Shelley and Robby at the restaurant, then the deal she offered me, the making of the tape, and my conversation with Margaret Adamson. "She's handling my divorce, and she'll be happy to represent you too if you want. Our cases are pretty much a shoo-in, she says." We talked late into the night, and then Dave crashed in my guest room. He didn't have the heart to face Shelley. The phone rang several times but we didn't answer it, and finally I just left it off the hook. *** *** *** *** A few days went by, and then a few weeks. Anne kept calling for a while, leaving me messages of her crying and begging to talk to me, but I didn't answer or call her back. I just didn't see any reason to talk to her. She tried finding me at work, but I'd asked our receptionist to tip me off and I ducked out of my office each time she showed up. A couple of times I saw her car parked in front of the house when I came home from work; so I just drove right by, and stayed away for a couple of hours until she left. Margaret Adamson did her work, beautifully. The divorce papers were served, she fought through all the legal maneuvers that Anne's lawyer tried to pull, and a court date was set. In his initial conversations with Margaret he claimed that no adultery had taken place. Once she sent him a copy of the tape, we stopped hearing that line! Instead, he pointed out that the tape was inadmissable. Margaret didn't even dignify that one with a response. She just sat tight, and as the court date approached Anne's lawyer finally called Margaret to ask for a settlement conference. The day after hearing the tape, Dave moved out of his apartment with Shelley and into my guest room. He drove over and watched the place until she went out, then called me. The two of us packed up everything he wanted and got out of there in less than two hours. He told me, "I don't want to see her. I don't want to hear a word she has to say—I just want to get the hell away from her!" His eyes started to tear up, and I turned away. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that I knew just how he felt? Shelley left me a couple of angry, cursing messages at home—a nice counterpoint to Anne's remorseful ones! After a day or two I started screening the messages, deleting any from Shelley or Anne as soon as I heard their voices. Shelley called Dave at work and sent him letters, but he never responded to them. Margaret was handling his divorce too, and he and I just sat back and let her run the show. To my amazement, the law suits against Marion and the health club were resolved first. The one against Marion never went anywhere—he disappeared one day and left no forwarding address. But the health club, eager to avoid negative publicity just as Margaret had predicted, reached a $1.1 million settlement: I signed a pledge of confidentiality and walked away with the largest check I'd ever seen, in less than ten weeks. My brother was a rock, and I guess I was for him too. We lived like two bachelors, going out to eat a lot, taking in a ballgame from time to time, or just sitting around and talking over a few beers. We talked about Anne and Shelley, about our lives with them, about how many great women there were out there just waiting for us... It wasn't easy to believe that last bit—and yet we were really able to help each other. I could see as plain as day that there wasn't a thing wrong with Dave that led to Shelley's behavior; she was simply a selfish slut. Likewise, Dave reassured me that Anne's cheating wasn't a reflection on me, just an indication of how fucked up SHE was. Neither of us probably believed the other one all that much, but it still helped to hear it. Dave was divorced first, as it turned out. He made it clear that he wouldn't talk to Shelley under any circumstances, and so Margaret handled the whole thing. She told him that Shelley had fought for more money at first, but that with the tape she didn't have a leg to stand on. I went into the office with him the day he had to sign the papers—Shelley had already signed them. He smiled grimly, shook Margaret's hand and thanked her, and then went off to the men's room. I heard him crying through the door when I went to find him. Three weeks later it was my turn. We met on a Tuesday, Anne and me and the two lawyers. Anne and her lawyer had agreed to a settlement but insisted on two conditions: that I drop adultery as a reason for the divorce, and that I meet privately with Anne before we signed the papers. Three Tuesdays I told Margaret I was willing to see Anne but not willing to drop adultery. Eventually we agreed that I'd give Anne a chance to persuade me—if she could do so, we'd change it to "irreconcilable differences", that old standby. In a weird way I was looking forward to hearing what Anne had to say. Maybe I'm a masochist—but I'd loved her for ten years, and I couldn't really imagine simply walking away without one final conversation. When I got there Anne was sitting in the conference room, wearing a blue dress she knew I'd always loved. Her hair was shorter and it looked great. She was pale, but she was the same beautiful woman I had loved for so long. "Okay, Anne, it's your meeting," I said neutrally. My heart was pounding, but I tried to look calm. "Just two things, all right? Please don't tell me how much you love me, and don't tell me 'it was just sex'." She flushed, and I could see tears welling up in her eyes. "Will, I'm so sorry! But how can I not say those things? I screwed up—plain and simple. I was selfish and thoughtless and I hurt you. But it WAS just sex, nothing but a stupid, stupid impulse I gave into. You can't imagine how much I've gone over it and over it—how many times I wished I had never done it!" "Yes, well...but you did do it, didn't you?" I had no intention of making this easy for her. Just being in the same room with her, knowing that we were about to separate for good—and why—broke my heart all over again. I went to the window and gazed out, unwilling to let her see my stricken face. Behind me I could hear her crying softly. "Baby, it was...it didn't mean anything. You know? It was the dumbest, most hurtful thing I could ever have done to you, I know that! But it meant nothing to me, it has nothing to do with how much I love you!" I let her talk a bit more, listening to the pleading tone, the sweet voice I had always loved, but not hearing a single word that I couldn't have predicted. She had nothing to say to me that I didn't already know, and nothing that made a damn bit of difference. After a while I turned around and came back to the table, sitting down directly across from her. "Anne, just so you know—I still love you. Very much. But it's over between us." She started to cry again. "You took from me, from us, the most precious thing we had together, aside from our love: the bond of trust between us. "How could I ever make love to you again, wondering if it was me you were thinking about or Marion and his freak-show dick? How would I know whether you were loving me, or missing him? "And how could I live with you, wondering where you were every time you were ten minutes late coming home? Wondering what you were doing on your lunch hour? Wondering whether you'd found another big cock to play around with?" I waited, but she had no reply to make. Finally, between the sobs, she said, "please, baby, please...couldn't you give me one more chance?" "Anne, I'll give you a few minutes to think about this one: what if I had met some bimbo with fantastic big tits, and started balling her on the side for a few weeks? Nobody I liked or respected, just a sexy girl who was a fantastic lay, who gave me a degree of pure physical pleasure that I never got from you? "And then you found out about it. Could you stay with me? Could you get past the feelings of hurt, the sense of total betrayal? Could you overcome the doubts you'd have about your own attractiveness, the fears that you weren't ever going to be the one I really wanted?" She looked up at me, with the saddest eyes I had ever seen. "Will—I don't have to think about it. I've thought about it for weeks now: could I forgive you, could I take you back if it were the other way around? "And the answer is: No, I couldn't. I just couldn't handle those feelings; I know that. So I'm asking you to do something I couldn't do, to be a braver, stronger person than I could ever be. "And to give me a chance to make it up to you, a lifetime to show you how sorry I am and how much I love you." There was silence. A minute, two minutes, as we looked at one another. Both of us thinking about all we had meant to one another, and how we had arrived at this point. I stood up, slowly. Hating myself, and hating her—for cheating on me, and now, for throwing it all back on me. "I don't know whether I can't do it, or won't do it. But I'm not that braver, stronger person you want me to be. "Goodbye, Anne." I waited by the open door for a moment, looking back, giving her a chance for the last word. She had her head down, crying. She didn't say anything else. Margaret was waiting for me down the hall, a surprisingly sympathetic look on her hard face. "Let her have irreconcilable differences", I growled, "it doesn't make a damn bit of difference to me." Part Three: Moving On? Dave and I sat at my kitchen table. We'd had a few, but we weren't drunk. "Listen," I said, "I've made some plans." He nodded, and I went on. "After the lawyers' fees I still have nearly $800 thousand from that settlement. I've invested all but $50 thousand of it in some nice safe places, so there will be a lovely nest-egg for when we're old and feeble. "But the last $50 grand has been designated the "Will and Dave Harris Recovery Fund", and we're going to start spending some of it. I've rented us four weeks at a two-bedroom condo in Cancun, starting two weeks from now. Go tell your office you're taking some time off. "We are going to be a pair of fun-loving bachelors, two 'gay divorcés' if you know what I mean." He just raised an eyebrow, and I laughed. "No, asshole, 'gay' as in 'cheerful'! We've done enough moping around, telling each other how badly we've been fucked over." Cancun was a blast, or at least as much of one as it can be for two guys recovering from broken hearts. We got a lot of sun, played a lot of tennis, swam a lot, and drank a lot (though we kept one another from going off the deep end). With each passing day we got tanner, a little fitter, and slightly further from the nightmare we'd just lived through. And, let me say, God bless my charismatic and charming brother! Despite the blow to his self-confidence that Shelley had laid on him, he got his old groove back, and we had a lot of female companionship. His favorite stunt—and damned if it didn't succeed 75% of the time!—was to spot two attractive women sitting together. He'd drag me straight over to their table, smile winningly, and say, "pardon me, ladies. I'm sure you wouldn't be comfortable letting a stranger buy you a drink. So let me introduce my brother, Will Harris." Then it was up to me, the shyer one, to say, "delighted to meet you both. This is my brother, Dave Harris." Then he would step back in: "Whew, glad that's taken care of! Now, may we buy you a drink?" By this time the women were usually at least grinning, if not laughing, and we'd mostly find ourselves with female companionship for the evening. Sometimes, the companionship lasted until breakfast. After all, unattached women in Cancun were as eager for fun as we were. I had maybe six different women in my bed over those four weeks, and I imagine Dave's number was a little higher. Mostly it was fun, just laughter and pleasure and keeping it light. The first couple of times I made love to a woman I was tentative, distracted by thoughts of Marion and his huge dick even though both he and Anne were thousands of miles away. It was hard to compete with what I knew he had done to her. But the women didn't seem to notice, and being with someone new got easier each time. One-night stands may not be for everyone, or for every stage in a person's life, but they seemed to be what Dave and I needed. Only one of the women was different: Shannon, a tall Irish redhead a year younger than I was. We did all the same things—had some drinks, laughed a lot, went for dinner, did some dancing, and back to my place to bed. She was sexy and responsive, as eager to be with me as I was to be with her. We had a lot of fun. When it got different was later, around 3am. For some reason I woke up, and just lay in bed, Shannon softly breathing in sleep beside me. Thoughts of Anne filled my head: Anne, and all that we had had together, and how it had been taken from me. I started crying, very quietly, and before I knew it Shannon was kneeling beside me, holding me in her arms, saying, "let it out, baby, it's OK." I was embarrassed, but I couldn't stop. She kept soothing me, and finally in response to her urgings I told her the whole story. By the time I was done, the sun was rising. We shuffled into the kitchen and I made breakfast for us while she told me her own story. Also a divorce—no cheating, just a husband who grew ever more distant, ever more driven and career-oriented, until there was just no marriage left. She'd been on her own for nearly two years. After we ate, we found our way back to the bedroom without a word spoken and made love. The night before had been fucking—fun, exciting, friendly, but just sex. This time we looked in one another's eyes, murmured tenderly to one another, and found a very different level of intimacy. My one-night stand with Shannon turned into four wonderful nights, and the afternoon she left my brother Dave was a little worried about me, I think. "Come on, bro, time to meet some new ladies," he urged. "That one was special," I said quietly. "I believe you," he said. "I liked her too. But she's gone home now, Will, and we have ten more days to spend down here. I'm not ready to stop having fun yet." He dragged me off to the tennis court, then the pool, and by that evening we were chatting with two secretaries from San Francisco, on their very first trip outside the United States. That night they slept in their own hotel room; but the next afternoon Barbara joined me in my room for her first-ever sex on foreign soil. *** *** *** *** Dave and I went out for dinner, at a steak place we both liked. It had been eight months since Cancun. Dave had long since found a terrific apartment he liked, but we still spent a lot of time together. Just after we ordered, Dave leaned forward and said quietly, "don't turn around, okay? Across the room two couples just sat down. One of them is Anne and some guy." I was glad for the warning. My heart was suddenly thumping, and I wouldn't have wanted my reaction to show. I waited a few seconds, then casually turned and looked across the dance floor. Anne had spotted us already, and was looking steadily over at me. I gave her a friendly, noncommital smile and a wave, and she smiled back at me. Then I forced myself to turn around and chat some more with my brother. "This is the first time you've seen her, isn't it?" he asked. "Since the divorce." I nodded. "I didn't think I'd have this much of a reaction. But I guess the surprise has something to do with it." "Just do me a favor," I said. "Let's enjoy our dinner—don't tell me anything about what she's doing over there, how she looks. I don't want to know." "That's fine, Will," he replied, and launched into a funny story about a co-worker who'd been flirting with him for a couple of weeks. He wasn't terribly interested in her, but was enjoying the game. We were sitting over our coffees, idly watching the dancing couples, when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and that familiar voice said, "how are you, Will?" I stood up and looked into Anne's eyes, her smiling face. "Hello again, Anne," I managed, again taken by surprise. "How about a dance for old times' sake?" she asked, and I said, "of course—I'd be delighted." How good she felt in my arms! How beautiful she looked! And how much I remembered happier times with her. We talked banalities at first: her job, my job, wasn't it cold for this time of year. Then we fell silent. I was lost in the sensations of having her in my arms again, and all the times we had danced together, and how we wouldn't be doing that any more. Or anything else. Towards the end of the dance Anne pulled back enough to look into my eyes. "How are you, Will, really?" I wanted to be honest, though I certainly didn't owe her anything. "I'm all right—pretty good, I guess. Some days are better than others. Seeing you tonight, dancing with you—it's very powerful. I didn't know I would feel this much." She looked at me very seriously. "Well, I'm not so all right. I miss you—every day. I don't think you can imagine what being in your arms again does to me." I didn't know how to respond, so I was silent. The last chords of the music sounded, but Anne wasn't ready to let me go. "Have you ever wondered if you made the right decision, Will?" "I'll be completely honest, Anne, okay? I still think about you and me all the time. But I usually don't get much past wondering why you made the wrong decision." When I dropped Dave off he said, "are you sure you're OK, Will?" I sighed. "Yeah. It was a shock, but it was bound to happen sooner or later—this isn't such a big town. "Are we still on for tennis after work tomorrow?" Dave said yes, and I headed home. I stood in the dark bedroom and undressed as quietly as I could; but when I climbed into bed she rolled over towards me. "How was the evening with Dave?" "It was nice. Strange. Actually, maybe it was a good thing you were tired tonight, because I ran into Anne at the restaurant." "Probably just as well I didn't come, I might have scratched her eyes out." "Do me a favor, okay Shannon? Could you just hold me for a few minutes?" I saw her loving smile, her teeth white in the darkness. "I'll do better than that, baby—come on over here and let me make it all better." I smelled her delicious scent as we embraced, and felt her gentle kisses along the side of my neck.