51 comments/ 53390 views/ 28 favorites Tommy and Helen By: carvohi Introduction: This is another story I've been thinking about. I hope you enjoy it. It is a loving wives story, but don't look for any sex. I promise I've got a sexy one coming. Meanwhile I hope you'll like this. I'd like to dedicate this to woodmanone in appreciation for some good advice. ***** Two people in love. It's dark and the road's dangerous. It's a two lane high speed highway, it's raining, and I'm still at least an hour from home. I don't know how it came to this. I halfway feel like just turning the wheel, flipping my SUV, and saying good bye to the whole shitted up mess. I won't though. I won't because I love my two kids, and in spite of everything I still love my wife. An hour from home and I wonder what kind of home it will be when I get there. I admit it; I'm angry, angry and confused. My wife couldn't be cheating on me, and certainly not with the cad with whom I'm afraid she is. I'll find out soon. I'll find out when I get home; within the hour I'll know for sure. I checked the clock on the dashboard; its 5:00 p.m., Friday, November 14, 2013, it's dark and cold and wet. I should have had my tires replaced or at least checked. I know they're nearly bald, but this is my 'run around' truck not my good truck. No one uses this piece of shit but me. I'd never let Helen near it; it's too dangerous. I only used it today because I wanted my nephew Wayne to use my good vehicle. Wayne just turned nineteen. He's fresh out of high school and had decided to take a year off and work before he went college. Wayne's a great kid; he's my oldest brother's oldest son. Wayne's been working for me. Lately since he sprained an ankle he's just been splitting firewood. OK I admit it I'm a farm boy; well not just a farm boy. I graduated high school and went to college, finished in four years too. I'm no tough guy. I just work my ass off for my family. I don't have any special skills. I just work hard. I did join the Army Reserves though; yeah I wore the uniform, and I wore it proudly. Only made E5, never got called up for anything overseas, and thank goodness never will now. Hell I've been out for fifteen years. OK, it was only the motor pool, but I'm still proud of what I did. I love my country. My dad and mom raised five kids; I'm the middle child, third in five. This road is dangerous; it's slick, there's been a light rain, more mist than rain and everything's slippery. I think people are more careless when the roads are like this. Man I'm in a hurry. According to Wayne if I kick out I might get 'there' before it's too late. OK where is there? There is a Motel Six just off Interstate Route 81 in Pennsylvania...and who might be at the Motel Six, why my ever loving, piss me off, wife Helen with her 'alleged' lover Jim 'the mother fucker' Carpenter. I have to get there. I have to stop her before she does something we'll both regret. Wayne's had my good truck today so he could keep tabs on Helen while I drove to Martinsburg to settle accounts with a couple assholes who thought they could fuck over a couple kids who worked for me. The boys had hauled eight cords, that's two truckloads of good seasoned oak firewood to this guy's house. He got all shitty saying the wood wasn't good enough and he wasn't paying them. He'd had his brother with him for intimidation purposes. Martinsburg nowadays is part of the outermost ring of the D.C. suburbs, housing is expensive, and firewood is selling for $200.00 a cord. Look cutting and splitting wood is hard and dangerous work. Nobody's getting into me and my workmen for $1,600.00. I had a baseball bat on the back seat to guarantee it. I got our money. Helen knew I had to be gone, and I guess she thought this might be her big chance to get away with something. I don't think she thought about Wayne. Wayne's been keeping me up to date on the whole Helen-Jim thing for the last several weeks. Jim's a real bird dog, and he's been sniffing around my quail. Nothing's happened yet, but it looks like today, or tonight is going to be their big opportunity. I see I'm low on gas; better pull in, I'll call Wayne and see what's happening. Man, this is tearing me apart. Helen has always been one 'grade A' bitch, but I have to admit I'm the classic hard assed prick. We've been married fifteen years. We have two kids; Jamie who's twelve and Janice who's eleven. They're both great kids. I love em. I love their mom too. Me and Helen met through my younger sister. My sister and Helen were sorority sisters in college. Helen's one of the types who has always had everything she's ever wanted. Helen's parents are rich. She was her high school's prom queen, lead cheerleader, and just generally all around most popular girl. Things didn't change for her in college either. Guys followed her around like she was some bitch in heat. How did we meet? My sister took me to the fall apple festival outside Gettysburg one September. I guess it was 1995. Helen was there scooping up those utterly tasteless French fried sweet potatoes. I know a lot of people like them, but I think they taste like shit. I was bitching at my sister about having to wait in line with her while she bought this crap when the girl behind the table smacked me on the head with an umbrella. This girl hit me and said, "If you don't like my fries, then why are you even in line?" I couldn't be one upped; I leered at her and said, "Who are you, Elephant Girl?" I said that because she was clearly taller than me. That's when my sister intervened, "Helen," she said, "I want you to meet my little brother Tommy." The 'tall one' smirked, "I can see why you call him your 'little brother'. Where'd you get him, Munchkin land?" That's how it started. A few minutes later we were all at a picnic table with me and Helen exchanging barbs. Had I fallen in love? Damn right I had, but I knew I could never let her know. She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever met, and she'd caught me on the rebound. My college sweetheart had moved to California looking for her version of 'Mr. Right'. Lucky for me, I'd caught Helen on the rebound too. Her most recent boyfriend had two problems; first according to Helen he couldn't keep his pecker in his pants, and second he expected that she'd put out for him. When she wouldn't he left. I found out the stuff about the boyfriend on one of our first dates. I think Helen was putting me on notice about a couple things; first she wanted me to know right up front that if I was dating her I wasn't dating anybody else, and second, she wasn't into giving anybody anything until she was married. She as much as told me she was a virgin. Yeah, like I believed that! They don't make them like that anymore. We dated for a year before I asked her to marry me. I was scared to ask her. I figured she'd only been dating me till somebody better showed up. I gave her a ring, and asked her if she thought she'd like to finish what we'd started. She laughed and told me nothing had started yet, but she was ready to give it a try. I pulled in, got some gas, bought a cup of black coffee, and a bag of chips. I'm not supposed to eat things like potato chips. Helen's put snacks like that on the 'forbidden list'. I'm not allowed sodas, white bread, candy, ice cream, chocolate, or any pastry either. Helen says my cholesterol is too high. I had to take a piss. While I was standing there holding my Johnson I wondered why she'd even think about fucking around on me, and why would she do it with a piece of worthless shit like Jim Carpenter? It was tearing me up inside. It's not like I'm one of those men who spend all their time on the road. I'm not lazy. I'm a good provider. Look I went to college; I'm not stupid. When I got out I knew I wasn't going anywhere with my dad's farm; I have two older brothers. I mean if I stayed on the farm I'd never be anything more than a hired hand, but I wasn't some 'house mouse' either. By that I mean I knew I had to be outside. I just didn't see myself in an office. I got some help from our grandparents. I bought some lawn equipment and started my own lawn service. That worked pretty well except the competition is fierce so I contracted with some farmers who owned large tracts of woodland. I went into the firewood business. That worked pretty well, but I still had a lot of dead time in the winter so I started buying snow removal equipment. Now I've got a lawn service, a firewood business, and in the winter I've worked out deals with several businesses and one of the counties to help clear their roads and parking lots when it snows. I'd say Helen and I are doing alright. Helen does our books, manages the payroll, and does most of the hiring and firing. I stuffed my dick back in my pants, bought my coffee and chips, got back in my SUV, and called Wayne. Wayne picked up on the first ring, "I've some bad news Uncle Tom." I'm not one to hide from the truth, "What is it Wayne?" "Aunt Helen and Mr. Carpenter got a room at the Motel Six. They're there now." "OK Wayne' I answered, "I'm on my way." Wayne asked me, "What are you going to do Uncle Tom?" I told him, "I don't know yet." I turned on the ignition and got back out on the highway. I figured another forty minutes would tell the tale. I took off and drove as fast as the law allowed. I guess I was going faster than I thought. I got pulled over. I wasn't speeding. I had a tail light out. Why would a state trooper pull me over in the dark in the middle of a misty foggy rain? Well I guess the guy wanted to get hit by a passing motorist while he was standing behind my driver's window. I took the inspection ticket, thanked him and was back on my way. I'd lost another fifteen minutes. The whole thing with this Jim Carpenter was a joke, a bad joke. He was new in the area. He was a braggart and a bull-shitter, but he had money and finagled a membership in the country-club my Helen said we absolutely had to be members of. Helen is a blond goddess. She's a statuesque 5'11". She has beautiful blue eyes, and the kind of face and figure men fight wars over. Her name is Helen after all. Homer said the Spartan girl had a face that launched a thousand ships; well my Helen is so beautiful she'd probably make the D-Day armada look small. She knows she looks terrific, and for more than fifteen years she's used her glorious beauty to make a fool of me. I don't care really; I give her tit for tat. Helen is two inches taller than I am, and when she puts on her high heels she towers over me. Of course she does it deliberately. Usually at the club when she's there in one of her slim and trim sexy black dresses, black nylons, and patent leather black heels I sometimes deliberately wear heelless moccasins. She wears the shoes to piss me off. I wear the moccasins to get back. It's been that way since I can remember. We fight with each other over everything. At least we do in public; at home, well that's different. In public I can never do anything right; at home well I'm never wrong. It's just unimaginable that she would be out fucking the likes of Jim Carpenter. Of course everybody knows how Helen and I fight and argue. That, according to Wayne is what prompted the mess we're in now. I said Carpenter was a blowhard. It seems according to Wayne 'Mr. Blowhard' made a bet that he'd be able to get between my wife's legs before Thanksgiving. Well Thanksgiving's only a week away! Wayne said he'd been taking bets, and lately he'd been giving odds. This is heartbreaking. I can't imagine Helen doing anything like this. I'm sure if she knew it was over a bet she'd be pissed to shit, but Helen's not a gossip hound. If there was gossip about a bet, she'd never listen. Still she's been acting kind of strange lately. She's been distant around the house. There've been times when she's been on the phone and I'd walk in; she'd either leave the room or start to talk real quiet. There've been other times I've called and I couldn't reach her. This last thing, her not being available is especially disquieting since she's so much a part of our business. She's always been easy to reach, but not lately. It's like she's been preoccupied lately too; like she's got other things on her mind. Oh please let not Jim Carpenter's slimy balls and diseased penis be what's on her mind. I pulled to the side of the road and punched in Wayne's phone number again. He picked up right away. "Hello Wayne?" I said. "Yeah Uncle Tom, it's me." "Is it?" "I'm sorry Uncle Tom. I didn't get a good look at her face, but it's her dark brown raincoat, and you know how she wears her blond hair in that long French braid, and it was her hat alright. I didn't see her Lexus; he drove the both of them. I guess she met him some place." I heard Wayne sniffle back some tears so I told him, "Stay with it Wayne. I'm on my way." Something else was bothering me too. This was November 15th. My birthday was the twelfth; it was my fortieth. Helen never said or did anything. Ever since the kids came along we've always made a big deal out of birthdays. I don't mean a lot of presents and stuff; I mean we do things like cake and ice cream and candles and singing 'Happy Birthday' and all. I like to deliberately sing off key. I only do it to piss Helen off. I also always tell her not to make a fuss over my birthday, but the truth is I enjoy it. Sure my feelings got hurt a little when Tuesday came and went and nobody said anything. Oh well I guess I know why...now. I picked up speed. God damn it I was going to find out. I was going to catch her! Maybe I should call home? I pulled over and used my cell to call the house. My mom picked up, "Hello." "Hello mom? It's me. Where's Helen?" "Oh Helen? Helen had to go out. I'm babysitting till she gets back." "Do you know when she said she'd be back?" "No Tommy she didn't say exactly. She only said she'd be a while, that I wasn't to call her, and that she'd be back before you got home." "OK, thanks mom," well that does it. Helen's out with the 'Big Shit' unknowingly helping him win his bet while my mom is home with my kids. I felt like crying. I didn't of course. I only felt like it. Helen and I had talked about things like fidelity before we got married. I'd fooled around some before I met Helen, but not very much. Helen of course was everybody's wet dream. I couldn't imagine her not having at least as much experience as I did. All throughout our dating and then our yearlong engagement she swore she was a virgin. I didn't believe her, but I never called her out on it. We had the big wedding. We're both Methodists so that made choosing a church easy; we chose hers. My mom and dad didn't care. They'd fallen in love with her the first time they met her, so did all my brothers and sisters. There were close to three hundred people at the wedding; it was in June, it had to be one of the hottest days of the year. We went to Niagara Falls for our honeymoon. Where else would we go? Through all the time we dated it was like I was always under surveillance. What with four brothers and sisters and myriad nieces, nephews and cousins all in love with Helen, I couldn't take a shit without someone reporting to Helen how long, dark, and fat each and every turd was. About me watching Helen; I never gave it a thought. First I believed if she really loved me she'd keep the faith, and second, if she did step out on me I didn't want to know. Of course the thing about her being a virgin; I knew that was bull shit. I believed she was lying about the virgin thing right up to our wedding night. Then I found out she really was a virgin. I got Helen's cherry! She'd never been with another man! Shit why now? Why after seventeen years of public combat and private adoration would she sell us out, and sell us out for a creep like Jim Carpenter? I had to stop thinking about this. If I didn't stop thinking I knew I'd end up crying. I know I wouldn't, not really. Men don't cry; not in my family they don't. I remember our wedding night. I remember how small she was. I remember how scared she was. I mean for the two years we'd dated I'd listened to all her bravado, all her talk about how popular she was, how many boys she'd turned down, how she'd managed to break a dozen hearts, and how unbelievably lucky I was. Hell, she didn't have to tell me; I knew I was lucky. I remembered the time her last serious boyfriend came back. Roy Orbison wrote a song about that; it was called 'Running Scared'. I knew she'd loved him; she loved him enough to almost, that's almost, give him her most special possession. I'd been running scared for months. He showed, and just like in the song she turned around and walked away with me. I felt like I was ten feet tall that day. Of course a little later on she had to burst my bubble; she told me she was only staying with me because she felt sorry for me. I thought, 'Oh so what; as long as I get to keep the prize.' Actually we didn't consummate our marriage that first night. Oh we made love. I kissed her all over. I manipulated her vagina. I teased her clit. She even touched me. I got down there and licked her labia, but I didn't gain entry until the following morning. No, she couldn't be out fucking Carpenter; we meant too much to each other. I checked the dashboard clock; ten minutes more. In another ten minutes and I'd be at the motel. What was I going to do? I had no idea. I saw the light up ahead; they'd kept the light on for me. Was that even the right motel chain? I pulled in and parked beside my good truck. Wayne got out. Wayne came over, "That man, Carpenter. He already left. They weren't in there together that long. She's, I mean Mrs. MacMillan my auht; she's still in there." "Thanks Wayne," I started for the door. My whole life was about to implode. I remembered when she gave me my first blow job; she'd been so scared. I remembered a blow job I got when we were at Gifford Pinchot State Park. I sat there on the seat of the picnic table while she leaned down, pulled me out, and sucked me off. It was dusky dark and people were walking by; the kids were asleep in the pop-up. Once I got a blow job while we were at Myrtle Beach. It was night, the kids were back in the pop up, we were on the beach, it was a real clear moonlit night. I was lying on this old chaise lounge, one of those cheap banana chairs, and Helen was kneeling on the sand beside me. People were all around. Every time she thought no one was looking she'd pop me in her mouth. If someone came close by she leaned away. God was that ever fun! I'm getting sick thinking of my Helen wrapping her lips around that greasy bastard's dick. I remembered when we delivered our kids; I'd been scared then. It was Helen who calmed me down. I thought about all the things we'd done, the trips to Hershey, the trips to New York to see plays with our kids, our trip to Branson, the time we went to Nashville, both our kids elementary school graduations, the time Helen broke her foot and how I pushed her all over Walmart with her in the wheelchair. We have a dog, a big black lab. Helen had been walking down the stairs to the cellar with a paper plate full of junk food in her left hand. The dog jumped up, she fell down and broke her foot. I had to carry her out to the car; man she cried like a baby. I thought about the Lamaze classes, our baby's first words, their first steps, the terrible day when her dad died. He'd had a heart attack; too much cholesterol the doctors said. I guess that's why she had me on a diet. Was I going to lose all this? I almost turned around. I really didn't want to catch her. I didn't know what I would say. We both had an understanding about fidelity; if I went to that door there'd be no forgiveness, this would all end badly. Tommy and Helen I got to the door of the motel room; it was room 123. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Someone inside said, "I told you to go away. I wasn't doing that." I didn't recognize the voice. I knocked a little harder, "It's not who you think it is." The person inside opened the door slightly. She had the door chain attached. Right away I could see it wasn't my Helen. I wanted to yell, to scream, to cry out. The woman inside said, "Who are you. Are you the police?" I answered, "Oh no, I'm not the police," I thought real quick; I reached in my pocket, pulled out the wad of bills I'd gotten from the two men who'd tried to cheat my boys earlier. I handed a fifty through the door, "Here," I said, "please let me in, just for a minute." There was quiet for a second; then the door slowly opened. The woman was standing back and away. The room was kind of dark. It looked like she had a pistol in her hand. She whispered menacingly, "You're not the police?" I answered, "No ma'am." She pointed toward the floor with what I thought was pistol. I knelt on the floor. She asked, "Who are you then?" I kept my hands up like they do in those cowboy movies. By then I had the thing figured out. I said, "I think I'm the husband of the woman you were impersonating tonight." She kept what she had in her hand pointed at me. I could tell now it wasn't really a pistol, but what it was I didn't know. She asked, "What do you know about that?" I told her, "The man you were with earlier made some bets that he could sleep with my wife before Thanksgiving," I almost choked up on that. I noticed a blond wig on the bureau by the bed, "But it looks like he must have paid you instead." She grimaced, "Yeah a real creep." "Can I get up?" I asked. She put down the chicken wing she was holding. It was then I noticed the KFC box, she said, "Yeah, you can get up, but don't try anything I know Karate." I doubted if she knew anything, but I wasn't concerned. I looked at the clock on the bureau; it was still pretty early, I asked, "How much did he pay you," I could see the wheels turning in her head. She said, "$500.00." My guess was he probably paid her a lot less. I offered, "How would you like to make $500.00 more?" "What do I have to do?" she asked. "It's still early. I bet Carpenter, that's the guy who paid you, is at the country club right now collecting on the bet he thinks he won. I'll pay you another $500.00 if you come with me now and expose him." She held out her hand, "Money." I peeled off the necessary number of Franklins. I was glad I didn't let those two bastards who tried to cheat on the wood pay me with a check. I'd made them go with me to their bank and draw out the $1,600.00 in cash. Now my paying her would wipe out a lot of hard work, but I was thinking it would be more than worth it. While the prostitute got her coat on I called my home again. I got my mom, "Hello mom? Is Helen home yet?" My mom answered, "No she's still out. When will you be home? I have to get home to your father." I told her, "I'll be a little while." I could tell she was just a little pissed, but what I wanted to do was too important. The prostitute and I got in my old SUV and took off for the country club. Wayne had gone. Yeah Carpenter was there when we got to the country club. I got the whore to dress up like she was my wife again, and we paraded right into the country club like it was Christmas. It was just a little past the dinner hour so the place was still pretty busy. In fact they'd hired a small band for the evening so it would be hopping for most of the night. She and I walked right past the front desk and straight into the restaurant and the bar. Old Jim Carpenter was at the bar with several other men. I took my new female friend by the arm and walked her over to the bar. I waved at Harry Forsythe one of the guys standing next to Carpenter, "Hey Harry," I said, "you've met my wife before." Harry was dumbfounded. Carpenter turned around. He took one look at the woman and turned white as a sheet. I said, "Hey Jim, hey guys, you've all met my wife. You remember her? She's been with Jim here all afternoon." The prostitute took off her wig. Harry was smarter than the average bear. He looked at Jim and said, "I think you owe me some money Jim." Carpenter reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He peeled off a few and handed them to Harry. Harry didn't move, "Now how about my winnings?" Jim said, "Oh yeah," he peeled off several more bills. By then several other guys had lined up behind Harry. Carpenter was reaching for his checkbook. I wondered just how many of these sons of bitches had bet my wife would fuck this guy. I mentally took note of every guy in line. One of them was an officer of the club. It was just about then the president of the club noticed the line and the exchange of money. Laying bets and collecting on them was OK, but no one was supposed to do any collecting in the restaurant or at the bar; it was considered vulgar. The president of the club strode over, "What gives?" I turned around, "These gentlemen all made wagers with Mr. Carpenter here that he could seduce my wife before Thanksgiving. It seems Jim here couldn't get my wife to go along so he paid this lady to impersonate my wife. He must have gotten pictures as proof." The president kind of sagely nodded, "That so." Carpenter tried to slough it off. He scoffed, "It was all a joke, just a joke." I interrupted him, "It wouldn't have been a joke if I hadn't caught it. My wife would have been humiliated," I looked at the president, "I'm sorry Mr. Benson, I'll withdraw my family's membership in the morning. The president took my elbow, "No you won't," He looked at Carpenter, "I want you out of here right now," then he looked at the other club officer who'd been in on the bet, "You, you get out too." He glared at all the other men, there were six of them, "I want to see all of you first thing in the morning. None of you; don't bother to tee off. And don't think I won't remember who you are. I think all of you will be looking for a new club and a new course pretty soon. And you can bet if any of the other clubs in the area ask why you're not with us anymore you can be sure I'll tell them." I looked at the men; some of them I thought were friends, nice guys. I knew some of their wives were good friends with Helen. Well too bad, too fucking bad! The president wouldn't let go of my elbow, "Mr. MacMillan, Tom, please don't leave us. We need people like you here." I wondered if he really meant it, or if he was thinking about in the winter when I did the parking lot for free. I realized then we wouldn't leave, at least not right away. If we left it might be taken to mean my wife might have done something, and nobody, not nothing or nobody was hurting my Helen. I told him, "This hurts Mr. Benson. Helen's my wife. I'll let you know." I nodded at the men, took the prostitute's arm and walked her back out of the club. Shortly thereafter I had her back at the motel. I thanked her, and asked if she had a ride. She said she did so I left to go home. All the way home I wondered where Helen was. Actually it wasn't all that late; she could have been doing some early Christmas shopping. She might have been shopping for Thanksgiving dinner. There was something else too; I was exhausted. It wasn't just the long drive, or the hassle with the 'would be' cheats in Martinsburg; it was the whole thing at the country club with Carpenter, and my 'so called' friends' who'd bet on my wife's infidelity. While I pulled down my street all I could think about was my TV, my big easy chair, and a big bowl of rocky-fudge ice cream. I didn't even want dinner. Shit I knew I wasn't getting the ice cream; bitch Helen would see to that. As I pulled close to my house all I saw were cars all over the place. Shit somebody must be having a fucking party. We lived on a nice quiet street. Most of the homes were ranchers. Christ someone was sure having a big party; there were even cars parked on my lawn! God damn; it looked like the party was at my house! Shit had I missed something? Oh hell, if Helen had planned something and I forgot there'd be real hell to pay. As I couldn't get in my own drive, I parked my car on the street. I started up the walk. God bless America I knew it; I was in a real world of shit. I opened the door as quietly as I could. Maybe I could sneak in and no one would notice. Then as I opened the door I saw all these lights. Someone had painted a big sign. The place was packed. Then everybody started yelling, "Surprise! Happy birthday!" Suddenly there was this cacophony of noise. Helen rushed up to me. She was wearing a pale blue button up blouse and a dark blue mini-skirt both of which showed me exquisitely why anyone would want to get in her pants. She said, "Where were you? We've been worried." My kids were climbing all over me. My nephew Wayne, smiling like the deceitful shit he was threw a trash ball at me. Helen took me by my arm and pressed her breasts against me. I whispered, "I had to stop off at the club." She leaned down, remember she's taller than I am, and she kissed my cheek, it was a sloppy wet kiss, the kind I liked, she murmured quietly, "This didn't have anything to do with any bets at the country club did it?" I blushed. She'd known; she'd known all the time. She swung around and her long blond French braid got me right in the face. 'Damn it,' I thought, 'I can't wait till everybody goes home.' Helen, my wife, my sweetheart, the mother of my kids, she wrapped her arms around my waist and started to pull me toward the living room, "Come on in. We've got your cake, there's ice cream, there're presents, potato chips with your favorite dip, and all sorts of stuff." She looked out at the crowd, "Look everyone Tommy's home; my husband, my big handsome hero's home." And so I was. Well there you have it. It really was a loving wife story too; a real Hallmark. ***** Thanks for reading. Carvohi