90 comments/ 114071 views/ 8 favorites I Should Have Known By: sum12watch JOHN’S STORY Sort of strange, now that I look back on it, at the signs, I should have known from the start. Leah and I had married 12 years ago, I was 32, she was 28. We’d both been around the block a few times. We said we knew what we wanted, said it was each other, and meant it, at least I did, and I honestly believe she did, at the time. Leah is often mistaken for a younger person. She has dark brown hair. It is almost black in some lights though and can reflect lights at night. She is 5'4" tall, and through much effort at the gym, has retained the figure I’m sure she had in her early twenties, although I wasn’t around to admire it at that time. I am also in good shape because of constant work-outs at the club. My name is John Malcolm. The first sign I got was when I came home from an out of town book signing tour. I’m a writer and as we all must, we travel from reading to reading to tout our books. Any rate, when I got back she was all over me. Now I know what you’re going to say, “that’s a problem?” I didn’t think so either. But, I should have thought further. You know, after the 10 year mark it gets kinda routine on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Occasional Friday nights, too. She lays there, I get on top. If I really do a good job, and she comes then maybe we do doggie. Quite suddenly she was all over me, 13 straight days we made love, no that’s the wrong term, we fucked. Her on top, sliding up and down, up and down. Facing me, turned away so I watch her ass go up and down. Doggie, Sidewinder, thumb fucks, head, cunnilingus, she swallowed!!! I was sore, man. Sore I tell you. Then it stopped. And it didn’t start up again. When I mentioned it to her, after a week, when the soreness had gone away, she said she’d been busy at work and was not in the mood and got a headache, and a sore throat. To be honest with you, I didn’t think anything about it until the second weekend with zero tu tu. The second sign was a letter that came in the mail. As is routine, I open all the mail, throw away the junk and the envelopes that everything comes in, and place them in a silver dish we use for that purpose so that Leah can look through them when she gets home. I never open her mail. It just so happens that one letter addressed to her I opened by mistake, from a jeweler. It was a thank you letter from a rather expensive jeweler in town, and it was addressed to my wife. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. Had she bought me a gift? My birthday was coming up so I assumed she’d done just that, and remember speculating about what kind of jewelry she’d bought for me. Well, she had bought me a gift, but it wasn’t jewelry. And it wasn’t from the jewelry store. I forgot about it because I was busy on another novel, and novels have a way of capturing your every thought, every dream. I think I must have assumed she’d bought something for herself, or had something repaired. You have to realize, she earns a good living, and pays her own bills. I looked at this one by accident and I couldn’t very well say anything to her without her thinking ’d been prying could I? The third sign was a call from her secretary asking to speak to her when she wasn’t there. Sarah, her secretary, insisted she’d been coming home early. I gave the message to Leah, of course, when she’d come home that night, somewhat later than usual. To my amazement, Leah blushed as she waved her hand in dismissal. I hadn’t seen Leah blush since I'd made that awful pass I’d made at her the first time I’d seen her. I’d always assumed she’d been embarrassed for me. That was what threw me, the blush. When she’d gone to bed, I’d checked the dirty clothes hamper, but there was no tell-tale semen stains, no other hairs than her own, no masculine smells adhering. Ever been there, kneeling on the floor, going through the dirty clothes, looking for incriminating evidence, deathly afraid that she’s going to come in and catch you? I tried to put it out of my mind, I’d read all those erotic stories when the panties were come encrusted because they couldn’t wash up, short of time or inconvenient, or if they could, and did, that some would leak out afterwards anyway. But I couldn’t work. I couldn’t do anything right. I started having anxiety attacks. Next day, frustrated beyond reason, I rented a car for a week, one she wouldn’t recognize. I was totally embarrassed when I entered the spy shop to buy a pair of phony glasses and a stick on mustache. I was so afraid someone I knew would see me in this store. I drove to her business in the rental, with all my phony appendages, and waited. Or began surveillance if you prefer. I felt so stupid. Although I don’t usually read the mail, and especially not her mail, Leah does pay close attention to mine. She’s a C.P.A. and she inspects every bill we get before paying it. She takes care of the book work, you see. How was I going to explain the charge for the rental? At noon, Leah came out, got in her car and drove to lunch. She ate alone. She drove back to work. That night she drove home. I entered just as soon as I’d parked down the street and left my disguise in the trunk. We ate dinner and went to bed. Me on top, her on bottom, looking bored. Afterward I went downstairs to work, and worked. The next day was the same, but she went to bed before me and there was no sex. I worked that night and slept in the next morning. But, that next day, I couldn’t work again so I walked to where I’d parked the car, got out my disguise and donned it as I drove to Leah’s business address. At lunch she came out and got in her car and drove to one of the more deluxe hotels. I entered behind her and watched her walk into the dining room. I went to the bar, which is to the side of the dining room but has a door that leads into it and seated myself so that I could see her join a handsome young man, several years her and my junior. She smiled as she joined him and they kissed, I thought a little fervently. They ordered and the waiter brought them glasses of champagne. I tried to remember the last time I'd bought her a glass of champagne while they toasted, sipped, put the glasses down and kissed again. Definatly longer, and seemingly more passionate than I thought was casual. Leah laughed a lot as they had lunch and I finished two beers at the bar. The bartender leaned over the bar when he brought my second beer and said, “robbing the cradle,” nodding at my wife and the young man, “isn’t she?” “She looks pretty young to me,” I said. Prideful and heartbroken. “She’s not that young,” he said, dashing me. “Could be platonic,” I replied. “Ha!” He laughed. “”He’s the assistant manager of the hotel, my friend. He tells me she’s the greatest piece of ass he’s ever had. You ought to see the watch she bought him.” “No shit,” I muttered as he scoffed and walked away, polishing glasses. I turned back to the table to see them get up and leave it, holding hands. I paid my tab quickly and followed. I rushed, meaning to stop what seemed bound to happen. I got to the lobby in time to see them get onto an elevator. She didn’t look my way, and rush as I might, I couldn’t make it in time. It was an old hotel, with an old elevator. It had lighted numbers above the doors to show what floor, or floors it stopped on. It looked to me they’d been on the elevator alone. I impatiently waited as it stopped at the sixth floor. Then it slowly descended back to the first floor. I entered and paced anxiously as I waited for it to take me up to that floor. When I got up there, of course, the hallway was empty and although I stopped at each room door I heard nothing. I finally gave up and went down to my car in the lot and waited. Frustrated and angry. In a little over an hour she came out and drove back to work. I could tell nothing by her appearance but I was now convinced that my wife was having an affair. She’d had time to do it, shower, dress and come down. Maybe he had no staying power. The young twerp. I drove around for awhile. What to do. Raise hell? Confront her at her business? Go in there screaming? All these things seemed so out of character to me. I finally made up my mind to do something that was in character. I called her with my cell and asked how she was doing. “I’m fine, this is a surprise, what’s up?” My question, I thought, but I’m sure it wasn’t up anymore. Still, he is young. “I’m near your place and I know it’s late but I thought I might buy you a late lunch if you haven’t eaten yet.” “Oh, but I have. I just got back. I’m sorry. I’ve got a very busy afternoon.” “That’s alright. I need to get a bite though, where’d you go?” “Oh, to the soup place. I ate light. But you don’t like that kind of thing do you?” “No. I’m still the hotel kind of guy. I saw a good one near your work. I’ll try that.” I heard her hesitation, but what could she say. “Oh, Okay. Have a good lunch.” “I will. If I’m still around, how about dinner, tonight. I might be tied up this afternoon.” Leah works about an hours ride from home. “Call me later.” “I will. Later.” And I hung up., tapping the phone on my jaw. I went home, parking the rental at a different location. I showered, dressed and drove back to her work area later that afternoon. As I drove, my own car this time, no disguise, I made dinner reservations at the hotel, and I called her. We agreed that I’d pick her up after work. It would give us time for a drink before dinner. I picked her up and drove straight for the hotel.. I was telling her, “I really enjoyed my lunch here so I thought we’d try it for dinner.” I parked as she looked as if she’d like to say something but she in the end said nothing. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been out to dinner during the week, hasn’t it.” I said as we walked toward the hotel entrance. “Sort of nice, just like when we first dated. “Yes.” She admitted, with a hesitant smile. I took her arm and led her into the bar, saying “our reservations are for seven. We have time for a drink first,” as I smiled at the bartender’s gaping mouth as he stared at her. We ordered drinks, doubles I told the bartender, and Leah kept giving him some kind of gloances like, "don't recognise me," I suppose:. but he just mixed and delivered our drinks. I could see him appraising me out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't recognise me, and went back to polishing his glasses. It was after six o’clock and I know he got relieved soon. His relief bartender entered the bar and they were whispering and laughing at the other end of the bar. Leah picked up her drink. She downed half of it. She looked very flushed. ‘ “You look a little flushed, Hon, sick? Temperature?” “No, I don’t think so.” She finished her gin and tonic. They were strong, I had hardly touched mine. I motioned to the new bartender to refill hers I had a feeling she was going to need it soon.. “She leaned towards me, and whimpered, “I don’t like this hotel.” “Really, I thought you said you knew nothing about it.” "I don’t. I mean, I was here for lunch once, with a client, that’s all.” I watched her closely, “I can see if they can seat us early.” "I’d rather just go,” she said. I smiled, I couldn’t help it, I’d started to enjoy myself at her expense. “We can’t do that, Leah, I’ve made reservations.” At least if she was going to have funsy's up stairs, then I am gonna have some downstairs. I cut her off as she was about to say something else, “and I had lunch here too, remember. The food is very good.” Just then the maitre de entered calling us. “Our table must be ready,” I said as I walked off to talk to the man. He confirmed that he could seat us now, so I motioned Leah to join us and we were led to a table overlooking the garden. “Isn’t this nice,” I said to her cloudy features. A waiter approached our table with menus. “My name is Horace, I’ll be serving you tonight.” He handed a menu to Leah first, then the other to me with the wine list. He continued, “could I get a refill from the bar for either of you?” Leah was looking at her menu, and finishing her second drink. The double I’d ordered her both times were flushing her more. I figured she was getting pretty high by now. “Would you like another,” I asked her, raising my eye brows disapprovingly. “No,” she slurred slightly. “I’ll wait for the wine now.” I turned back to Horace, “I’m going to have beef, Horace, what kind of wine do you suggest?” Horace smiled down at me, “Trust me, Sir.” “I will do that, Horace.” Leah was looking around, then suddenly pulled her menu up in front of her face. I looked around too. It was easy to see why she’d buried her head in the menu, the assistant manager was at the front desk talking to a group of men. I looked back to her menu again. That’s all I could see. I was wondering what the twerp’s name was. The waiter approached with our bottle of wine. I tasted it. It was good. I nodded at him. He poured Leah a glass, and then poured mine, and he left us alone with our lack of conversation. I looked at the menu again, hers that is, the back of it. Finally I spoke, “Leah?” and when she didn’t look up, “Leah, will you look at me please?” After a moment, she lowered the menu and looked at me. It was so obvious that she was ill at ease, maybe truly ill, and I really couldn’t blame her. “How was your day,” I asked nonchalantly. She laughed, somewhat hysterically, and then she seemed to get a hold of herself, “How was my day?” Her voice, still slightly eratic rose toward the end of the question. She looked down at her drink, then lifted the glass and finished it. She set down the empty glass, looking down at the table, then picked up her glass of wine. “My day was great. Absolutely great.” She stared at me. Was she guessing that I know what’s going on? “That’s good. I had a terrible day. Everything I believe in came into doubt today. I wasn’t able to work at all.” “What were your meetings about?” She’d somehow missed my sarcastic comment about my belief system falling apart. “I had no meetings,” I confessed. "I couldn’t work so I came down to buy you lunch and I was too late for that, and then I decided to buy you dinner and now you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself here. I feel like the day’s been a waste. Know what I mean?” I’m sure she hadn’t heard anything I said. I started to say I was going to have a quiz later, but I noticed she was staring over my shoulder now, and beyond me. I followed her eyes and watched the assistant manager crossing the room beaming at Leah. “Leah, what a nice surprise,” he gushed as he reached our table. Leah blushed, “Hello, Mr. Saul, let me introduce my husband,” she said quickly, indicating me, but looking at him. “John Malcolm.” He turned to me, stretching out his hand, very much in control, “of course, the writer. I’m a fan” I stood and took his hand. “Never can have too many,” I said. He dropped my hand. “I’m Charles Saul.” He turned to Leah, “I had no idea you were married to such a famous figure. I smiled at him as politely as possible. Then I watched Leah as I asked, “So, how do you know my wife?” I glanced at him. He looked suddenly apoplectic. He almost sputtered, but Leah came to his rescue. Their rescue I suppose. “Tom comes to me for his taxes,” she blushed. I was beginning to see that she was a poor liar. Bit she was still, drunk or not, the fast thinker I’d always known her to be. “Yes,” he said. Agreeing with her. They were so delightful that day. “Well, you read my books and frequent my wife, uh, my wife’s business. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough." The expression on his face was priceless. “Well, you’ll never lose me.” He said. “It was very nice to meet you. I hope you will come back, and I’ll see you again.” He left us and I sat down again. “You have very nice customers,” I told Leah. She didn’t respond, and was saved by Horace coming to take our orders. That night, at home, was the quietest night of my life. Leah feigned exhaustion, or, come to think of it, maybe the day had worn her out. She went to bed early and left me wondering. I’d never questioned my existence before. There were a lot of questions: Q. Am I in love with Leah? A. Yes, dammit, I still am. (Pitiful huh?) Q. Should I confront her with the information. A. What would I say. I have no proof. No tell-tale signs. No pictures. What do I gain that way. Isn’t she just going to laugh at me? Q. Should I throw her out? A. It is my house, bought and paid for before I married her. I could do that, I suppose, but without repercussions? Q. Can I live with what I know? A. I don’t know. Q. Does it excite me? Her having an affair? ’ve read all those stories about that very thing. A. Regrettably, no. It doesn’t give me an erection. It wilts me. Q. Why? Does he have a giant penis? Mine is slightly over six inches and I always seemed to fillher and hit bottom too. A. How can I answer that. That's up to her to answer. Q. Am I insecure? A. No. I’m not. But this quandary is definantly affecting my work. I don’t like that. Q. What do I do? What to do? A. I don’t honestly know. All I know is I'm mad, and damned scared. I fell asleep on the couch and woke at 2 A.M. with Leah standing over me, crying. I held her. Calmed her. Went to bed with her and cuddled with my love. PART TWO Leah’S STORY I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that John, my husband, loves me. I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it in his touch. I love him too. So why was I so unhappy, so frustrated. How did I ever come to this? How did I become this thing that I am. A cheat. I found John asleep on the couch tonight at 2 A.M.. There were dried tears on his cheeks and I felt so guilty. So very guilty. I looked down at him and I knew he knew. Then I woke him and took him to bed. We held each other and I dried his tears. Then he fell asleep, cuddled in the spooning position. But I couldn’t sleep. John is an amazing man. Sensitive. A successful writer. He has to travel but that’s not an excuse. And if it isn’t, then what is? I know, I’ve heard the stories, too. The ten year itch. Mine was at twelve years. I’m forty years of age, for God’s sake. I’d been happy with John. I don’t know what was driving me . Why this had to happen. It only began six weeks ago. John was off again, on a book signing. I was invited to a party. I‘d had a couple of drinks. Bull shit, no excuses. Charles was a cutie, a young, complimenting sweety. It made me feel young again to be with him, to be complimented by him. “I love that perfume,” he’d said. “Your skin is so soft,” he’d said. “Your hair has lights in it, reflecting from the chandelier” he’d said. I have mousey hair. No one had ever complimented me on it. I ate it up. “So few women have your kind of humor,” he’d smiled.. He’d complimented my dress, my figure, my “deep grey- brown eyes”, my shoes, my nail polish, and my lipstick (“so kissable", he’d confided). We danced, and he was a marvelous dancer (John had always been an elephant on the dance floor). After several fast dances, and then a tango, I thought he might be the best, most sensuous dancer I’d ever partnered with. Then came the soft slow one. There had been several cocktails. He’d held me close. I’d felt his erection. It was firm against my leg. I closed my eyes and remembered my prom dance, when this exact feeling had come over me before. I felt young again. I felt horney. When I’d gotten home I’d been wet. I threw my panties in the hamper and got new ones. It was all I could do to keep my hands off myself. I’d forgotten about it by the next day. I had a hangover. Then the phone calls began. I guess I’d given him my business phone number, and it turned out he worked nearby at a hotel. He invited me to lunch, and invited me, and invited me. I’d honestly tried to dissuade him, but I hadn’t told him to stop calling. I Should Have Known Better The first day of deer hunting season in Pennsylvania is almost a state holiday. Most schools in rural areas are closed that first day of the two-week rifle season. That is because most male students, a fair number of female students, and many of the teachers and administrators are going to be in the woods hunting. Over the years, it became more practical to close school the Monday after Thanksgiving, than having school in session with so many students and faculty mysteriously 'ill'. I was a member of a hunting club that had about 400 acres on which to hunt. We owed our membership to our forefathers who purchased the property and chartered the club in 1952. Four men had joined together to purchase the property. The intent was to own a place where they would always be able to hunt. Now we had 14 members, mostly descendants of the original four. There was a small cabin in the center of the property. We kept it supplied with a lot of beer, chips, and bullshit; a lot of bullshit. I was in the woods about noon, enjoying the solitude, when I heard the shot. It came from the stand my brother had made for Tom, his 14 year-old son. I made my way over and found him staring at a dead deer. He had made what would have been an excellent shot, had it been a legal deer. The problem was it was anterless, and he only had a permit for antlered deer. I silently cursed my brother for leaving a novice alone in the woods. "What should I do, Uncle Paul?" asked Tom nervously. "I thought I saw horns on it!" It was not my job, or place, to decide what punishment the boy should suffer. It was my job as the adult on the scene, to see that the situation caused as little trouble as possible. I bent over and began field dressing the deer. As I worked, I explained a few simple facts. "This mistake is simply not acceptable, Tom. You must identify your target before you shoot. This is death and it is not to be taken lightly. I think a few of the guys have doe permits. We'll take it back and you'll have see if someone will tag it." We dragged it back to the cabin and stashed it under an old blown down tree. I should have explained to Tom just why I had concealed the deer. We went inside and found Chuck Tracy having some coffee. "Chuck, Tom shot a doe he has no tag for," I began. "Would you want to tag it and help the kid out?" "The little shit should be more careful," laughed Chuck. "I have plenty of time to get a doe and I'll fill my own tag. Where is it?" Before I could stop Tom, he told Chuck where we had hidden it. That was the kid's second mistake. A couple of the other guys came in. I was about to ask them if they wanted to tag the doe when an ominous knock sounded. I opened the door and saw Sam Watson, the area game warden, standing there. "Hey, Sam!" I greeted him. "Come in and have some coffee." I learned about game wardens at my father's knee. He had taught me to be careful around them, but not fearful, and never tell them anything. They would never be able to make any charge stick if they didn't get someone to cave in and talk. I gave Tom a quick look and shook my head. Sam walked in and looked around. He knew me well enough to know he wouldn't pin any wrong doing on me. He also knew, however, there were several people in the room he could make sweat. Then he saw some blood on my boots. "I see blood on your boots, Paul. Did you get lucky today?" queried Sam. My tag was still on my back so the only possible answer was to deny shooting anything. "I had a little nosebleed earlier," I grinned. "If we take those boots to a lab and they show deer blood, you'll wish you had come clean," warned Sam as he watched for my reaction. "Right, Sam!" I laughed. "You have a crime lab in your truck. The FBI comes to you for help. I heard they are going to have a "CSI, Deer Hunting" on TV next year and you'll play the lead. Even if you had a lab, and you don't, and it turned out to be deer blood, and it isn't, you would prove one thing. I had deer blood on my boots. I never read any laws against that, but if you can just tell me the page it's on, I'll read it tonight!" Sam shook his head and decided against any more comments regarding my bloody boots. We both knew the game commission didn't do ballistic tests, blood tests, or DNA tests. He began his usual line about the weather and other meaningless banter to relax everyone. Then he attempted to coax information out of us. Soon, he was asking if anyone had shot anything. "How about you, young fellow?" he asked of Tom. "Get any shots?" "The kid got nothing but cold," I answered for Tom. I wanted Tom to see how to respond to questions from a warden. Sam looked at me and nodded. Then he looked at Chuck and smiled. "Staying out of trouble, Chuck?" he asked. "I sure don't want to have to fine you again. Hope you and your buddies are obeying all the game laws. You know how I have to give everyone a summons if I find anything amiss and no one admits to it," he chuckled. "I know how that last fine stretched your finances. You don't have anything hidden in the wood pile, do you?" I couldn't believe my eyes as Chuck actually began sweating and his cheek started twitching. I had no doubt where this was going to end up. He had been caught with a loaded weapon in his vehicle a few years back, and it had cost him a couple hundred dollars. Still, I had to try to stop Chuck from rolling over on the kid. "Not me, Sam," answered Chuck nervously. "If you find anything, it wasn't me!" Sam had played this game a long time and like a wolf that smelled blood, he realized Chuck was wounded and limping badly. "I think maybe you did do a little more bending of the state's game laws," stated Sam. "A search of the place may prove it!" "Go ahead and search, Sam," I interrupted. "I won't even make you get a warrant for it. Go ahead. We have to get out and get that big buck, so make it quick!" Sam looked at me and again nodded his head. He knew where the weakest link was and he went for the kill. "Okay, Chuck. I'll look around, but if I find anything, it's your ass I'm going to nail to the goddamn wall. You have proven yourself to a man that breaks the laws of the Commonwealth, and you'll be found guilty so fast your head will spin!" "It was the kid!" squealed Chuck. "He shot a doe and didn't have a tag. He hid it under that tree behind the cabin!" "Sonofabitch!" blurted Jack Hook, a member of our club who had no idea there was any deer stashed, but knew a chicken-shit prick when he saw one. He had been standing quietly waiting for the warden to look around and leave. Chuck's stool pigeon act repulsed Jack. He and I exchanged glances with neither of us bothering to conceal the contempt we felt for Chuck. Sam seemed surprised and disgusted as well. He was doing his job, but hadn't intended, or wanted, to catch a kid screwing up in his first hunt. He looked around a little sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Let's go look at that doe. I'll have to see your license, son," Sam stated almost apologetically. "This is going to be an expensive lesson for you." I stepped in front of my nephew. His father was still in the woods hunting and the job had fallen to me. I wasn't about to shirk what I knew I had to do. "Sam, I shot that goddamn doe and you'll have to deal with me. That asshole, Chuck, doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about," I avowed. Sam looked at me for several seconds. It wasn't his first rodeo. "Okay, Paul, if you want to confess. You know what happens next. I'll write you up and be done with it," he agreed. He knew I was lying. Everyone in the room knew that Sam wasn't fooled. It was how the game was played. He had an illegal deer and a confession. He had no desire to pin it on Tom, and I silently thanked him for being a stand-up guy. He was doing his job. He had to try to catch hunters bending the laws, but Chuck didn't have to tell him a damn thing. Sam went down the road with the doe and my check made out to the Game Commission for $220. I was so livid I went back into the woods, without my rifle. I was afraid I would beat the shit out of Chuck if I went back into the cabin. I didn't return to camp until dark. Luckily, I had cooled off by then. Jack was heating some chili on the stove and the other guys were sitting around having a few beers waiting for dinner. Tom and his dad were not anywhere to be seen. Jack saw the question in my eyes. "Lou took Tom home so he could go to school tomorrow. Lou was as hot as I've ever seen him when he heard Tom shot a doe, and then how Chuck rolled over on him to the warden," Jack said. "Lou wants a meeting when he gets back. He made it plain that he wants Chuck blackballed from the club. Chuck has been reading the camp's by-laws and minutes for an hour, looking for a loophole, so he can keep his membership." A short time after dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Lou walked through the door. He immediately announced that, as president, he was calling an emergency meeting. He dispensed with any reports and cut to the chase. "The single most important rule we have in this club is no member rats on another member, or guest, to a warden. This dickhead did exactly that. I move we toss his ass out!" concluded Lou. It was seconded immediately and passed unanimously, with Chuck showing the good sense to abstain from voting. Then he dropped his bombshell. "The by-laws say I have an option, if I want to take it," he announced. "I have decided to invoke that right." "Jesus, boy!" blurted old Bill Taylor. "That was a joke we made as a rule one night years ago, when we was all drunk!" The rest of us had no idea what was going on so Bill put his beer down and walked to the center of the room. "I was a young buck then. Stan Gillow had been bitching for two weeks about his divorce and how much it cost him. You know how we always have a meeting the last night of the season? As a joke, Stan made a motion at the meeting that a man should be able to avoid being blackballed for squealing on a member by offering his wife's services for a year to the offended party. We was all laughing and drinking. Next thing you know, it was seconded and passed," recalled Bill. "This damn little weasel found that stupid-ass rule and wants to use it!" Everyone was stunned. What sort of man would use his wife to avoid taking his punishment? The contempt in the room was almost tangible. I glanced at Lou and saw his face turning red. I knew that was the warning sign that he was going to explode. I had no use for Chuck, but I didn't want my brother, Lou, spending Christmas in jail. "Fair enough!" I declared. "It's settled. Since I've been divorced for a few years, I don't have to explain anything to an angry wife. I'll take Chuck's wife for the year." I turned and faced the miserable prick. He hardly looked ashamed! I was beginning to realize he had some serious mental problems. "I will only want her a two nights a week. I will let you know ahead of time what nights they will be. She will cooperate completely, or you will be out of the club. It starts the week after deer season ends, and will last till the season starts next year," I insisted. "Do you accept those terms, Chuck?" "Sounds fair enough," he reasoned. "I get to stay in the club and hunt here with full privileges if I make her hold up her end of the deal, right?" "Your end of the deal, asshole!" spit Lou. "You are one sick bastard!" Chuck was nonplused as he opened a beer and took a sip. Lou walked away, shaking his head. This was the stuff of legends in a hunting camp. Chuck had given up his wife for a year so he could remain a member. I was going to get a lot of ass for $220! That was when I realized I had never seen Chuck's wife! I felt a sinking feeling as visions of a 300-pound bearded, foul smelling, ugly bitch danced through my mind. The next day I asked around in an attempt to find out if anyone knew what Chuck's wife looked like. It was old Bill that filled me in. "She ain't too bad, really. She's thin and pale, and kind of quiet. Maybe that's why they never had any kids. She might be too skinny or sick, or something. She's younger than Fuck-head by about ten years or so," he grinned. "You should be able to get $220 worth out of her pretty easy." I dialed Chuck's phone number the first Wednesday after deer season ended, at a time I knew Chuck would be at work. I was determined to carry out the agreement. I had concluded that Chuck must have believed I was too decent a guy to actually go through with such a despicable deal. He expected to get off the hook with no penalty. That was the only reason I could come up with for a man to stoop so low. "Hello?" answered the feminine voice. "This is Paul Jensen calling," I informed the voice. "Did Chuck tell you to expect my call?" "Y…yes, he did," she answered slowly. "You know why I am calling and what to expect," I persisted. "You are agreeable to paying Chuck's tab?" "I don't find it agreeable, Mr. Jenson, but I am resigned to it. Is that good enough?" she asked. "That's fine," I replied. "I'll pick you up at seven. I want you to wear a short skirt and a low cut blouse. I want Chuck to be there when we leave. I'll have you back before it gets too late." I hung up the phone and wondered. Who was worse, Chuck or me? We were the same age and had been in the same class in high school, 30 years ago. His wife should be within a few years of forty, if Bill's estimate was anywhere near accurate. I rang the doorbell at seven sharp. Chuck opened the door. I had no idea what to expect, but I sure didn't plan on Chuck having a big smile as he asked me in. I had hoped, and really wanted, for him to be ashamed, hurt, and angry. Either he was a great actor, or he really was quite happy. It made no sense. "Millie?" he called. "Your date is here!" "Would you like a beer while you wait, Paul?" he asked. I shook my head as I tried to understand what was happening. Why wasn't he ashamed, or pissed? I began to dread meeting his wife. What horrible mistake had I made? How bad would she be? Then she came into the room. I felt immediately relief when I saw her. She was short, slim, and pale, just as Bill had described. She was also wearing a long dress with a high neck. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun of some sort. It was impossible to determine anything about her breasts with her loose fitting clothes. She was no Miss America, but at least she wasn't some horrible pig! "Hello, Mr. Jensen. I am Millie," she introduced herself. I could see that her eyes were red and that she had been crying. The notion of punishing Chuck turned very sour in my stomach. He didn't seem to know enough to be embarrassed, but his wife did. I was humiliating a woman that had no part in the little drama at the hunting camp. My contempt for Chuck was suddenly surpassed by my own self-contempt. "You two stay out as late as you like," Chuck grinned. "I'll leave the light on." Mille cringed at Chuck's cavalier attitude. I was afraid she was going to start crying again. I quickly took her hand and led her to my car. I wanted to get her away from Chuck. He was creeping me out! Millie gave me an odd look as I held the door open for her. I went around and got behind the wheel. I had originally planned on taking her to my house and fucking her like a slut, just so she would go back and tell Chuck. My thought had been that a normal husband would be very humiliated. The thing was, Chuck didn't seem to be normal, or even close. Now I had a lady in my car and I had to take her someplace. I drove in complete silence to a nice restaurant. Nether of us knew what to say or how to start. When I pulled into the parking lot, I saw Millie look at me again. I had no idea what she was thinking. I didn't have a reservation but a few dead presidents slipped into the right hands got us a table quite quickly. I helped Millie to her seat and then sat across from her. We looked at each other and we both knew we had to find something we could discuss. "I didn't dress the way you told me. I wanted you to realize I may be nothing more than a whore to you, but I will not be ordered around like a dog," she began. "I will keep Chuck's end of the agreement, but don't think I am some kind of slut, although I guess that is exactly what I am!" I saw a tear start down her cheek and I felt like shit. "Millie, don't cry! Please!" I pleaded. "I will not degrade or humiliate you, I promise. I can see that you are a lady and will treat you as such. Let's have a nice dinner and I will take you home, okay? " "I guess you can pretty much have a different woman every night. I must look quite plain to you, Mr. Jensen. I hope you are not overly embarrassed to be seen with me," Millie managed between tears. "Where the hell did that come from?" I demanded. "If I were ashamed to be seen with you, I wouldn't bring you here, would I? I am just trying to put you at ease. I was not insulting you in any way." "How am I supposed to feel in this situation, Mr. Jensen?" asked Millie. "If you insist on sex with me, I will be an unfaithful wife, a slut really. If you don't assert your right, I will be an undesirable hag, not good enough for a free fuck!" I hadn't thought about it that way. She was on the horns of a dilemma. A woman needs to feel that most men would give her a roll in the hay, given the opportunity. It could be hard on her ego if I didn't fuck the living hell out of her! I have always claimed to be a gentleman, which would seem to predicate slipping her the old salami. On the other hand, I was the one that was the victim. That miserable shit, Chuck, had cost me $220! He had ratted on my nephew, and he had to suffer! My family name demanded it. My mind reeled as I considered the ultimate insult to Chuck. If I didn't fuck his wife, he would be really humiliated! Unless that was his plan in the first place, and then I would be the schmuck. The waiter came and we ordered our drinks. I came to the conclusion I had a year to determine whether I should fuck Millie or not. There was no need to be rash. As dinner proceeded, we found several subjects that interested us both and we had a pleasant conversation. Millie began to relax and even smiled a few times. "This is the first time I have ever had dinner here, Mr. Jensen," she admitted. "Chuck prefers me cooking dinner at home for him. The food is excellent and it's a lovely place." "Let's get one thing straight, Millie," I responded. "My name is Paul and that is how you should address me. My father was Mr. Jensen. I feel old enough already, without being referred to as Mister." "Okay, Paul," smiled Millie. "You don't look so old. Chuck said you two went to school together, but you look several years younger than he does. I understand you are divorced, Paul." "Guilty as charged!" I quipped. "It is unlikely I would be in this arrangement if I were married. Not many wives would go along with it." I guess that was the wrong thing to say. Millie got all red in the face and looked down at her plate. I mentally cursed Chuck for allowing her to be placed in such an uncomfortable position. Then I considered how no one had held a gun to my head and forced me to take Millie out. I was a willing participant in a tragedy. I tried to think of which of Shakespeare's works would cover my present situation. I had been doing that that since discovering the Bard in high school. That was when I made up my mind to be the hero of the small epic I call my life and simply take Millie home, and never go back. I had always been able to find single women for companionship and sex. Why would I continue in such a bizarre situation? If old Chuck was half a man, he would be pacing the floor, worried sick over what he had done. He had probably suffered tremendously already. I Should Have Known Better After I paid the bill, we walked to my car. I opened the door for Millie and then went around and climbed behind the wheel to take her home. "Paul, I have to compliment you on your manners. You have opened doors and helped me be seated all evening. It appears to be a habit for you, but I am not accustomed to being treated so well," she confided. "Thanks for treating me like a lady." "Mom made us boys conduct ourselves as gentlemen when we were around ladies and it did become a habit. Just to demonstrate how much influence she had, I am going to take you home and not bother you again. It was a ridiculous thing for Chuck to suggest, and I was no better for agreeing," I admitted. "I just hope Chuck had a couple bad hours tonight, thinking about what we might be doing." "Paul, you don't have to be so nice to him!" Millie blurted. "I mean that, well, he got himself into this situation. You have every right to insist on the debt being paid." "Thanks, Millie, but the whole thing is just a little too weird for me to be comfortable. I don't dislike you. In fact, you have been very pleasant company tonight. Revenge is never a very admirable motive, and hurting you to get even with Chuck would be pretty low." "So you are going to take me home and not come back, ever?" she asked. "You don't do much for my ego, Paul." I laughed at Millie's comment. She was showing a well-developed sense of humor. "You think I am joking, don't you?" she sniffled. "If I go home and tell Chuck we went to dinner and nothing happened, he will be very disappointed. He thinks you planned on banging the hell out of me. He told me I'd be lucky if I could walk by the time you brought me home." I looked at Millie. Was she serious or making another joke? Why would Chuck talk to her like that? Her demeanor suggested she was serious. What was Chuck's game? "Millie, I really doubt he will be disappointed that his wife had a nice dinner with no sex," I chuckled. "He'll be relieved, believe me." We were a few miles from her home at this point. To my eternal shock, Millie reached over and pulled my zipper down! Her hand darted into my pants and gently tugged my soft cock out. Then she leaned over and slid it into her mouth. My cock quickly responded to her ministrations. "Millie!" I gasped. "I am taking you home! The deal is off and you don't have to do this." She raised her head from my throbbing cock long enough to reply, "You just don't understand, Paul. I do have to do this. Just go with it and enjoy." She sucked my cock back into her mouth and began to give me a world-class blowjob. I pulled off the road before I had an accident. It had been a while since I had sex and I quickly built to a crescendo. Millie never missed a stroke as she swallowed every little guy I could muster. When she finally satisfied that I was totally drained, she gently tucked my soft member back and zipped up my Dockers. "That was my desert!" grinned Millie as she dabbed at her chin with her handkerchief. "Now you can take me home." "What the hell was that all about, Millie?" I demanded. "I'm not complaining, but I explained to you that I wasn't going to hold you to the stupid agreement. You certainly didn't have to do that." "There are things about Chuck you don't know. He wants me to have an affair, Paul. He has trouble, ah, he has a problem getting aroused," revealed Millie. "If I tell him how I sucked your cock tonight, he'll be excited and be able to perform. I didn't want to have any part of it when he first told me about this arrangement. I was afraid that either I would dislike you, or you would not find me attractive." I pulled back onto the highway as I listened to Millie. I had heard stories like that. I had never really believed a man would need anything so kinky to get his libido going. A new thought crossed my mind. Was I helping that prick get laid? Was I a pawn in some weird game? Should I put a stop to this perversion? "You're telling me that Chuck wants you to have sex with another man? That it makes him horny and able to get hard? That he can't get the job done without some kind of kinky story?" I asked in amazement. "Chuck actually wants us to have sex?" "I guess it sounds pretty bad, but that's the situation. He has had problems for years. He used to be able to watch a porno and get excited. As time went on, he needed more and more stimulation. We even went to a psychiatrist," Millie revealed. "The shrink said it was more a mental problem than a physical one, but so far he hasn't been able to help Chuck. He has even taken all kinds of pills and drugs to help, but so far, nothing has. When he came back from hunting and told me that I was going to have to be your slut for a year, he was able to have sex. I thought it was another fantasy at first, and played along. The sex was incredible that night!" "Then he really was happy when I stopped to pick you up! Now you're going to tell him you gave me a blowjob and that will help him get the job done?" I asked incredulously. "Won't he be jealous? I know that I couldn't share my woman." "That is the part difficult to understand. The humiliation helps him get aroused. He does know it is degrading, but it is also a rush for him," responded Millie. "It is a 'Catch 22' sort of thing." "Millie, I don't know what to say, or think. You have been excellent company, and you really know to suck cock!" "Thank you," beamed Millie. "I thought you would like that. Will you be calling me in a couple days? I really enjoyed the evening and now I'm prepared to see that Chuck's debt is paid properly." I should have been stronger. I should have dropped her off and never returned. The memory of her lips working their magic on my cock was too recent, too vivid. The little head made another decision for me. "Sure, Millie. How about Friday evening around seven?" I asked. "Would you be able to make it then?" "You've got a date! I know Chuck will be pleased, and to be honest, I am already looking forward to Friday, too," allowed Millie. "I think we have a situation where there are no losers." I pulled into her drive and went around to open her door. "Are you going to come in and visit with Chuck?" asked Millie. "That would really get him cranked up!" "I don't think that would be a good idea, Millie. This is just a bit too embarrassing for me to push too hard. I'll just say goodnight right here." "You are such a gentleman, Paul. You haven't even tried to kiss me or sneak a feel,' marveled Chuck's wife. "That will make it that much more exciting when you do." Millie leaned into me and raised her lips up to mine. I felt like I did on my first date way back when, except that girl didn't have cum on her breath! Friday saw me at Chuck's door, eager to take his wife out for the evening. He welcomed me in like a long lost friend. "Have a beer, Paul," urged Paul. "Millie is going to be a few minutes more. She is getting all dolled up. You made a really good impression on her the other night." I didn't know how to respond to Chuck's statement, so a just nodded and accepted the proffered beer. We discussed sports for ten minutes or so. Millie finally entered the room. I stood up and stared. She had on a short dress with a daring neckline. I don't know if it was the bra or if her tits were bigger than I had thought. "Wow, she really looks hot, doesn't she Paul? You'll be hard pressed to keep your hands off those nice tits, don't you think?" Chuck blurted out. Millie blushed at Chuck's assertion. I just picked up her jacket and helped her into it. She did look great! In another minute we were driving down the highway. "Do you think Chuck was right, Paul? Will you have trouble keeping your hands off my tits?" laughed Millie. I reached my right hand over and slid it down her front and held her right breast in my hand. I pinched her nipple until she squealed. "It seems like you have decided to partake of my charms," Millie suggested as she placed her hand over mine. "I will take that as a sign you are going to have trouble leaving my tits alone. I love how it feels when you touch me, Paul." We went to a small dinner theater, had a great meal, and watched a romantic comedy. Millie had a great time and I was enjoying her company. "You really are different, Paul," Millie stated as we drove away from the theater. "You are taking me to dinner and theater when you don't have to be so nice. Chuck has given me to you, but you act like you are trying to win me. That is really sweet." "I didn't see the handbook that told how a man should treat a woman he won at a hunting camp," I chuckled. "I had a good time tonight, Millie. You are a lot of fun." "You haven't even begun to find out how much fun I can be," teased Millie. "Are you interested in finding out, or do you just want me to suck you off again?" "From my perspective, that is quite a lot of fun!" I grinned. "Did you tell Chuck about the blowjob? What did he say?" "He got hard as a rock when I described how much bigger your cock is than his. I told him how you called me names like whore and slut while you held my head on your pulsing cock," answered Millie. "You embellished it a little? You should take up hunting and fishing, Millie," I suggested. "You already have the most important part mastered. A really good hunter can take a dull day and make an exciting, almost unbelievable experience out of it." "Tonight you pulled off the road, right over in that dark parking lot, please, and demanded I give you another slow, wet blowjob. I had no choice. I had to suck on your monster and swallow every drop before you would let me up. The big difference from last time is that you pulled my tits out and played with them and pinched my nipples while I blew you," Millie laughed as she pulled her top down and freed her beautiful breasts. I put the shift lever in Park and gazed at Millie's chest. Those tits were real and they were nice! I began to tweak her nipples and they grew hard and elongated. She was soon moaning as I fondled, squeezed, and pinched her breasts. Her hand slid over my leg and tugged at my zipper. The bad boy was already hard and she had to use both hands to free him from the confines of my pants. There I sat in my car, parked in a dark lot, getting world-class blowjob from a married woman while I played with her tits. To top it all off, she was going to tell her husband everything, and even dream up things that didn't happen. How does a man find himself in such an unusual situation? The next week was Christmas week and I didn't see Millie. I had family and friends to spend the holiday season with. I was sure Millie would be busy as well. New Year's Day, Millie was at my place. We had a few drinks and eventually gravitated to the bedroom. I had learned a few things about patience in sex over the years and I made certain to give Millie a memorable performance. By the time I took her home, she had thanked me a dozen times and made me promise we would do it again. I felt great, until I dropped her off at home. As I drove back to my place, I imagined Chuck listening to Millie telling him all about the sex we had just shared. I realized I was uncomfortable with Millie sharing something so personal with someone else, even her husband. Some things should be private. I was upset by the time I reached home. I was sharing a woman with another man, even if she was supposed to be his. How was I different than the cuckold husband, really? He got sloppy seconds and I went first? That thought did little to ease my mind. I decided to not see Millie again. It was just two weeks later and I was plunging inside Millie. She was panting and squealing with delight. We came one last time together and I collapsed next to her. She looked at me and smiled. "This really gets Chuck fired up!" she admitted. "He will fuck me like a wild stallion tonight!" I couldn't decide how to respond, so I remained quiet. Should that make me feel good? Apparently Millie thought it would. Chuck, Millie, and I were all getting some really good sex. Why did it not feel so good in retrospect? "I should have met you years ago!" laughed Millie. "The more sex I have with you, the more Chuck makes love to me. This is absolutely great." I noticed that Millie said that Chuck made love to her, while she and I had sex. Was I too sensitive? Was I looking for problems? Was I totally nuts? Over the next few weeks, Millie and I had sex just about everyway two people could possibly find. The sex was fantastic and the remorse afterward was becoming almost as intense. It took some time, but I finally found the word to describe my emotions. I was jealous of Chuck! How was that possible? He was the cuck and I was the bull. I should have been strutting around like the cock of the walk! After our next fuck session, I decided to brace Millie and find out where I stood. She was becoming very important to me and I wanted to be sure I meant a lot to her. "Millie, tell me how you feel about me?" I asked. "We have been meeting for a few months now. What do you think?" "Oh, Paul! You are an excellent lover. Sometimes I think you are going to actually fuck my brains out!" she gushed. "Your cock feels so big and hard inside me." "That isn't what I meant, Millie. How do feel about me, the person, not the thing attached to a cock," I explained. "How do you think of me?" "You are a fun guy, Paul. I really like being with you. I have never had my pussy eaten the way you do it," continued Millie. "I have been trying to get Chuck to eat me out like you do. He is getting better, but he still has a ways to go." Her words stung worse than if she had slapped my face. I thought of the silly movie where the guy was the "man-whore" and the women used his "he-gina" for their pleasure. The movie was hilarious, or at least it used to be. I wasn't controlling the relationship. I was a male slut, being used like a chunk of meat. Millie and Chuck had somehow twisted the situation around so they were the winners and I seemed to be the loser. What kind of a man complains about being used by a lovely woman for sex? Perhaps a man with a small shred of self-respect still in tact would feel that way. "Have you ever thought of leaving Chuck?" I asked. "Leave Chuck? He's my husband! I love him with my whole heart," declared Millie. "Why would you even ask that?" I realized then that Millie really had no clue. To her, I was a human dildo and nothing more. Was this how a mistress felt? Unloved and used? It was not a good feeling. "Millie, being with you has been an experience," I began. "But I can't continue on like this anymore. I don't think I can explain it, but let it suffice to say that we won't be seeing each other any more. I'll take you home and that will be the end of us being together, okay?" I was prepared for tears, arguments, accusations, questions, anything really, except what I heard. "Okay, Paul. You've been really sweet and lasted longer than most guys, but I could see it coming," she revealed. "I'll tell Chuck. He'll have to think up something new. He still gets to hunt though, doesn't he?" As I began to dress to take Millie home, I realized that she and Chuck had played this game before! I had to appreciate the irony of the situation as I asked myself the question, "How would society treat a reformed "man-whore"?" I Should Have Known John came home, at last, and I made love to him senselessly, trying my best to keep imagining him, and not Charlie. But I knew everyone had fantacies. John finally complained about soreness ad I realized that I was sore also. I noticed I was walking funny. I was so confused. Charlie kept calling. So persistent. Always a laugh. John left again. More signings. Eventually I went to lunch with Charlie, just to see if I’d remembered him correctly. If he was as cute as I remembered. Maybe my fantasy was just a false illusion. Uh huh! When he’d hinted, during coffee and dessert, that a free room was available to him, to us, I’d laughed good naturedly. I’d kept laughing till lunch was over but then his hand touched my knee. Instead of moving it, which I should have done, I knew what I should have done, I looked around to see if anyone could see. They couldn’t. His hand moved up, pushing my skirt higher, and higher. I kept laughing, it was titillating, what he was doing in public and no one knew. I thought I’d stop him any minute. Then his fingers touched my panties and I knew he was touching my wetness. Now he knew he was turning me on! Then, then I’d gone up to that “free”room and fucked him for two hours. I’d been crying that night when John had called me. So guilty. Sorry for myself, that things had turned out this way. Or, maybe, sorry for John. After we’d hung up I’d sat there, trying to figure it out. What was it, why this attraction to Charlie? I’ve heard all the stories, bigger, longer, all that. But Charlie isn’t any bigger, no longer, actually shorter, and it doesn’t curve, or twist, or whatever. He has no special technique. He was complimentary, that’s true, but I could see through that. He’d wanted me. I realized that night that it was because of the excitement. The newness. Maybe even the fear of being caught. And definitely the fact that I controlled him. He’d do anything I wanted. Anything I suggested. What would John do if he caught me? Throwme out? Could I live with that? I resolved that John wouldn’t find out. We’d be careful. After that night, I didn’t cry for either of us anymore Charlie and I met as much as possible. He always seemed to have a room available when we needed it. He was always horney and so was I. I began to think I was in love with him. But I was in love with John. Could I be in love with two men? One day I noticed that Charlie’s watch was old. It delighted me to shop for a new one for him. It was expensive but I could afford it. John never paid any attention to the bills so I wasn’t worried about being “caught.” After awhile I noticed that John was never in the mood for sex. What did I care? I was getting mine. Actually I just put it down to his working too hard. Maybe he was bored with me. Well, I wasn’t bored at all. I was bubbling. It was after lunch and sex one day that things started going to hell. I couldn’t figure out what happened at first. It was becoming obvious to me now that John had caught on. That could, I thought, be what happened. But if so, why didn’t he say something to me? Why not confront me? And if he did, what would I say? What would I do? Would I even care? The morning after I’d found John on the couch, crying, I’d left the house before he’d awakened. I was so nervous. So scared. But when Charlie called that morning, to ask what had happened, I told him that everything was fine and that I’d be over for lunch. I was going to break this thing off. Resume respectability. Comfort John. Resume boredom. Less risk. Oh, yeah. By the time I got there I was thinking about his cock in me and that took care of that. I gushed when I came and he was sweating in the air conditioned room. One day, I’d not really seen John except for dinner. He seemed to be working at night. We spoke very little. I was getting heartburn, eating while I waited for him to say something. But he never did. He was always polite to me. I began to read the cuckold stories on Literotica, and began wondering if John was one. Did he look forward to a nasty night eating Charlie’s juices out of me? He didn’t act like it. I couldn’t make myself believe it. Then came the day of the awakening, the beginning of the end. The end of the affair? The end of my marriage? The end of my life? I didn’t know. But I knew it was some kind of ending. It began at lunch. I went to the hotel for lunch, as arranged. I didn’t at that time know anything was ending. Charlie and I had lunch in the room he’d gotten for us that day. It was a special suite. After lunch he pulled me to the bed. I was ready. I stripped his shirt as he kissed me, undid his belt as he opened my blouse. Pulled down his zipper as he unsnapped my bra, and pulled down his jockeys as he kissed a nipple. I took him into my mouth as he sucked in his breath. Then I drew my teeth over the skin of his prick as he almost came. I rose so that he could undress me and he removed my shirt and bra from my shoulders and my skirt and panties from my body, leaving me in my medium red heels, my white stockings, and my red garters. I pushed him on the bed, kissed his cock, then began to shimmy up his body until my pussy came into contact with his extended tongue, and I rode him for a long time before I climaxed. A blistering, shocking rhythmic sensation that began in my breasts and coursed through my clitoris into my vagina. Rhythm after rhythm. Then I pulled away. Too sensitive. Charlie slid under me and got behind me. He entered me doggie fashion and soon he was ramming my head into pillows, my arm extended under me, my fingers manipulating my clit. It was then, in the height of passion, that Charlie made the mistake of the day, maybe the mistake of his life. He said, in distorted, breathless terms, “I want you to divorce your husband and marry me. I want you off the pill. I want you to have my baby.” I laughed crazily. My mind went off like a rocket. A baby! Then I bucked. Then I bucked again. I didn’t want to have his baby! But I did want a baby! I was copletely confused. My head was spinning. But I knew I wanted him off of me, out of me. I bucked him off. I was now screaming at him. “Get off me. Get out of me. Get off of me.” I turned, brought my feet up, planted them on his chest, and pushed. He landed on his back on the rug at the foot of the bed. “Get dressed and get out,” I screamed. I was a madwoman. He did just as I directed, throwing glances at me from the corner of his eye every few minutes. I went into the bathroom and washed up. I threw water up into my finger opened vagina to clean him away. His sputum or his sweat, or his precum. I wanted none of it. When I came out of the bath, he was gone. I dressed, quickly, and left the room myself. Then the hotel. As I drove home, I wondered if it was too late. Had I lost my husband? Could I possibly put it back together? I was sweating in the air conditioned car. I kept wiping the sweat from my eyes. At last I pulled into the drive of our home. I turned off the motor and slammed the door to the car as I ran for the front door. When I entered the living room I had an odd, lonely feeling. I cried out John’s name. His face appeared, looking quizzically at me from the kitchen. I ran to him but he turned away. What do you expect, I asked myself. “John,” I said, “we have to talk.” John turned to me but wouldn’t look at me. “I’ve been having an affair,” I told him. “I’m so ashamed. I was so stupid”.. He showed no shock at all now. “I know,” he said. A small smile touched the corners of his mouth. It didn’t reach the saddened eyes. “I’m really sorry,” I said. He looked away, out the window. I looked there, too. Birds were talking to each other. Flying around. “I want a baby,” I said to him. “A baby,” he repeated, obviously shocked by my admission, but at least he looked up at me, and I’d only just begun. “John, please sit down at the table.” I followed him into the dining room and sat across from him when he sat down. I looked him right in the eye. “I know this probably isn’t going to make much sense to you, but I had the affair for the wrong reason.” He shook his head, whether to negate what I’d said or to clear his head I couldn’t tell. I just kept plowing ahead. “I regret it, and will regret it for a long time. No matter what happens to us. I thought it was because I was alone too many nights. I thought it was because you didn’t compliment me like you did when we were first married. I thought I needed a change. I thought I wanted excitement. I wanted none of those things, I just wanted a baby. My biological clock is ticking and soon it’ll be too late. I know we said we didn’t want children, but I do. I do now” I paused. I couldn’t tell anything from his eyes. I went on, what was I to do? “I didn’t know I did at first, I thought all those other, those stupid things, but this has been working on me in my subconscious. I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I don’t even want you to if we can’t have a child. I paused for reaction, hoping against any reason. I got the surprise of my life. John said only one little word. “Two!?” Then he said, “one might get spoiled like I’ve been by you.” And then he rose, came around the table and lifted me up into his arms. FINIS