58 comments/ 171536 views/ 11 favorites Week from Hell By: Enamored Not a stroke story. I'm not even sure quite where the idea for this came from, but if something seems to ring a bell with another story, my apologies to the author, although as has been said, plagiarism is the ultimate complement. My name is Tom Moss, and my wife's name is Sara. We have two kids, both off in college, and we have been married for just over 25 years. We're both in pretty good shape, my wife because she works out on a ski machine in the basement, and me because my work keeps me moving pretty well. I'm a field services engineer, well; actually I am a manager of a group of field services engineers, although being a manager doesn't do anything for me except give me a bigger paycheck and a hell of a lot more to do. I am still expected to do all the calls I can, and pick up after the guys that work for me. There are several managers who are my peers, and we are each responsible for a different area, although there can be some crossover at times. My wife is a senior purchasing agent, for one of the companies that we supply systems to. Although we sell directly to the end user, we also sell to companies who add a bit to their cost, along with some special tweaks to the software that runs the systems, and resells them. About a year and a half ago, the director I reported to retired, and someone from outside was brought in to "bring new life into the company." I had my nose somewhat out of joint over that one because I had thought that I was in line for a promotion to John's slot, so when Keith Zolinkowski came in I was all prepared to dislike him from the start. After watching his management methods for a month or two, I hadn't seen a damn thing that changed my mind. You've seen the type – they know all the buzz words, are up on the latest theories, and have never been in the field, learning that you don't get everything out of a book. They also are not willing to listen to those who have to deal with day-to-day problems, but insist that you follow the book, or you get dinged on your performance reviews. Almost immediately Keith instituted a policy that if a supplier had a problem with getting parts to us, or with the quality of those parts, one of the field service types was supposed to go running out to the supplier and see if they could fix the problem. The problem with that was none of us were manufacturing engineers, and certainly were not quality control engineers. The result was that the suppliers begin to resent us, particularly the people who had to insure the quality and timeliness of their deliveries. I instructed all of my people that if they saw a particular solution that others hadn't, then by all means they should bring it up. But they should always defer to the suppliers' engineers unless they could prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the supplier was wrong. That policy worked pretty well, and after a few months, our relationship with the suppliers improved, and they begin to show us things that we would never have figured out by ourselves without a whole lot of work. About a year ago, Keith instituted another policy (among many) that had him going to the various purchasing agents for our products and taking them out to lunch, or dinner, in order to improve our relationships, as well as find out what we could do to improve our products for their purposes. I supposed that made some sense, but the thought in the back of my mind was always along the lines of what the hell were the sales engineers supposed to be doing? As sales were a completely different group, it seemed to me that he was stepping on a lot of toes. In any event, it would up that Keith was taking my wife out to lunch once or twice a month, as he did a number of other purchasing agents. All of these lunches were one on one as nobody wanted to discuss their requirements with a competitor. I told Sara to watch him, because I thought he was a slimy, backstabbing bastard, but Sara just blew me off. I'm sure that it had to do with Keith being a very charming man when he wanted to be; and second because Sara had a hard time believing that anyone would do anything that wasn't straight forward. In a word Sara was naïve in some regards. I had always had to travel a bit, but most of it was a one-day trip. I would get up at 4:00 or 5:00am, so I could be onsite by the start of business, or maybe a little before, and then be home by 7:00pm at the latest. Now, with the trips to the suppliers, I had to go out of town for a couple of days once or twice a month. It wasn't often we had that significant a problem; it was just that any little hiccup would cause Keith to send me out. I was told that it was important that someone from management be on scene, even though my engineers were often sent. It turned into a mess for my home life. It seemed as though almost every time Sara and I had something planned, a trip to a supplier would come up and things would get put off. You could tell in the atmosphere around the house. When I told Sara that I had to take off on another of these stupid trips she would get her nose completely out of joint, and things would be frosty for a couple of days after I got back. After a year of this shit, she was getting really tired of it. Our 25th anniversary was coming up, and I had put in for three days of vacation, wanting to make sure that nothing came up to screw it up. I had managed to get tickets several months ago to a play that was really supposed to be wonder. I had reservations at a local restaurant for dinner after the play, and was planning on spending the rest of the week with my wife, celebrating our life together. You guessed it, the day before my anniversary, Keith sent me an email and told me that I had to go to one of our suppliers to deal with an intermittent problem with the "black boxes" we were getting from them. I wrote back and told him that I had my 25th anniversary coming up, and that I already had been given approval for my three days off, and I wouldn't be able to go. The response I got was blistering. Basically I was told that if I didn't put the company first, then that would be reflected in my annual review, and further that he would be required to look into whether or not I was setting a proper example for the engineers working for me. I had seen this once before. Bob, one of my peers, had refused to go on a trip that was going to conflict with his son's graduation. Keith had written a performance review that was absolutely devastating. Bob had been given every shit job that came down the pike, and when they didn't work out perfectly (from Keith's viewpoint) he was given a reprimand. Ultimately he was put on a performance plan, and just before the poor bastard was going to be fired, he quit. Yet Bob was one of the best managers, and engineers, that I had ever known. Apparently you did not cross Keith. It took Bob months to find a new job, and then it was only at a significantly reduced salary. So I bit the bullet, and told Sara that night that I was going to have to take off for two days to do the business trip. Sara was pissed beyond belief, and let it be known. The morning of our anniversary, I woke up in the wee dark hours of the morning, and caught a flight to our supplier. Sara barely kissed me goodbye, she was still that pissed. When I got there, about 7:30am, I asked for Tim Martin, the head of the quality control department. When Tim saw me, he was incredulous that I was there. "What the hell are you doing here? I called Keith yesterday morning and told him that the problem had been figured out, and the stuff was even going to be delivered a day early." I explained that this was all news to me, and asked if he could at least explain to me what the problem had been, then I could complete my report and maybe get the hell out of there. It took all of the morning to get the full explanation, which was actually very simple. A supplier had been a bit short of a part needed, so had supplied a part that was very similar, but much faster. As the black box had been designed with the slower part in mind, there occasionally was a "race condition" which resulted in a lockup. The choice was to go back to the original part, or fix the race condition. They fixed it almost immediately, in a manner that allowed for both parts, and were off and running. By noon, I was ready to leave, and called Sara on her cell phone to tell her that I was going to try to change my reservations to be home in time for the evening's festivities. Unfortunately, her cell was turned off, and like an idiot, I didn't leave a message, just deciding that I would try to surprise her. Well, I wasn't able to get a different flight until later that afternoon, one that would get me home in just enough time to drive from the airport to the theatre for the second act. I landed, found my car, and drove like a madman to the theatre. I got there just as the intermission was ending and went to the will call windows to pick up my ticket. To my surprise, I was told the ticket had already been picked up, and that the play was completely sold out. Okay, so I went to plan 'B'. I drove around looking for Sara's car, but no luck. That wasn't too surprising as parking was at a premium, and God knows where she had to park. I waited until the play was over, then stood at the front entrance, hoping she would come out that way, rather than through one of the side doors, at least one of which opened onto another street. Again, no luck. I called the restaurant to see if the reservation was still valid, but was told that it had been canceled that morning. Having no other options, I simply went home, fixed myself a bit of dinner from leftovers, and waited for Sara to come home. It was getting later and later, and I thought that she must have gone to dinner somewhere else, so I made a drink, actually a rather strong one, and went to bed with my book, intending to wait up for her. I must have fell asleep, because the next thing I knew the sun was streaming in the window, into my eyes, and it was 7:30am. The first thing I tried was calling Sara's cell. It went immediately to voice mail, so it was turned off. I next tried Sara's twin sister (not an identical twin), and Tara had no idea where Sara was. Incidentally, Tara had two children also, a bit younger than ours, and was widowed. Her husband had been killed in an auto wreck about five years ago. Tara and I were friendly, and I had helped her out with her genealogy work a year or so before. Tara's husband had really been into researching genealogy, and when he was killed she took it up with a vengeance. Sara and Tara had been adopted as babies. Sara didn't seem to really care, but Tara was determined to find out who her folks were and all the other stuff that seemed to flow from it. Their adopted parents had been helpful, to the extent that they could. They knew that the biological parents had been killed in some kind of an accident, and thought that there might have been a brother or sister, but just weren't sure. They had been stretching their resources adopting twins, and just hadn't had the ability to take on a complete family. In any event, Tara hadn't heard a word from Sara in days, so I started on the hospitals and the sheriff's department. Nobody had a clue where Sara was. No accidents, no "Jane Doe" admissions. Nothing. About 9:30 I gave up, and went into the office thinking that it would at least take my mind off things. Every 30 minutes or so I would call Sara's cell, and then her direct line at her office. No joy. I was in the break room getting my tea, when I heard Keith outside in the hall talking to someone. "Boy, talk about banker's hours." "A friend had tickets to a wonderful play last night, her husband couldn't make it, so I got the pleasure of going to it with her." After Keith told him what play, I got a bit sick to my stomach. It was the same play that I had gotten tickets to for our anniversary. It had been sold out for months. "Yeah, the play was wonderful, but afterwards I took her to dinner and then the evening got even better." They moved off down the hall, and I couldn't hear anything more. I finally got Sara on her cell about 11:00am, and as soon as she answered, I asked: "Where have you been, I've been worried sick about you. I tried calling you last night, and then again this morning. You've had your cell turned off, and I couldn't find you. Christ, I've even been calling the Sheriff's department and the Highway Patrol." "I went to the play you so generously provided for my entertainment, then went on to dinner, then to bed. Without my husband, I might add." Christ, she was still pissed. "Okay, I'll talk to you tonight." "Goodbye." After she hung up, I started thinking. Obviously she had lied to me, but what the hell was she pulling? Was she having an affair? What was I missing? Then Keith's boast about the night before kind of hit me, and I really got a bit sick to my stomach, and had a headache that you wouldn't believe. I tried to continue work, but by 1:30 or so, I simply decided to give it up as a bad job, and went home. When I got there, I found that Sara had apparently been home after I left, because some of her clothes were just tossed on the bed. Sara finally showed up about 5:30, walked in and kissed me, then apologized for being short with me that morning. I didn't say much, just got us two drinks and told her I wanted to tell her a little story. I explained to her about the trip to the supplier, and about how I had come home to try to go to the second act of the play with her only to find the tickets had been picked up. I went on about looking for her car, and ultimately waking up that morning and not finding her at home. As my tale went on, Sara got a look of horror on her face, and I could see tears running down her checks, smearing her mascara, which kind of left her looking like a sad raccoon. "So now, what can you tell me about where the hell you were last night?" Sara looked at me, tried to talk a couple of times, then finally finished off her drink and went and got another one, bringing the bottle back with her. "Keith had called a couple of days ago, inviting me to lunch today and I had agreed. When we got to lunch, I was still pretty angry at you about the anniversary and you being out of town. We were talking during lunch, and Keith mentioned that he thought you had said we had an anniversary coming up. I told him that it was yesterday, and he said that he was quite surprised that you had volunteered to go on this supplier trip when it was our anniversary." "That set me off again, and I thought what the hell, so I invited Keith to go to the play with me. I explained that I had brought a change of clothes with me to work, and that I would change at work, and meet him at the theatre." "Keith said he would have to go home to change, then suggested that I meet him at his place because it was right on the way to the theatre, and offered to drive us, so we wouldn't have to get parking for two cars. He also offered the use of his spare bedroom for me to change in." "I agreed, thinking that it would certainly be easier to change in his spare bedroom, than in the ladies room at work." "When the play was over, Keith invited me to dinner, telling me that at least he could pay me back for the ticket for the play, and besides, on an important day like that, I shouldn't be alone." "We went to dinner, had a drink before dinner, then shared a bottle of wine during dinner. I might have had a bit too much, but I certainly wasn't drunk. When we got back to Keith's place, I went in to get my things, and when I came back out, Keith had poured us both a glass of brandy, and insisted that we share it before I went home. One thing led to another, and I wound up in Keith's bed with him." By the end of this, Sara was crying so hard it was almost impossible to understand what she was saying. I couldn't get a look at my own face, but I am willing to bet that it was stony. "So you spent the night there?" "I – yes." "And given what time you showed up in the morning, I assume you fucked him again this morning." "Oh Christ, I – yes, I did." I decided that I might as well get the whole damned story now, rather than have it dragged out." "How long has this been going on?" "Just last night – I swear to God it was just last night." Things went on in this vein, and if Sara can be believed this is what happened. Incidentally, I tend to believe her, as she really can be naïve, but I am withholding judgment. Keith had started his calls on the purchasing agents about a year ago, as I said. Initially it was just once a month or maybe six weeks, but after a two or three months, the frequency increased to about every three weeks, sometimes even every two weeks. As time went on, they started talking a bit about personal things as well as work. Keith was always charming, and professional, and always made sure to complement her on her husband, saying that I was a real asset to the company, and was really to be commended for volunteering for all the extra travel. Sara was also complemented on being understanding, because so many of the other wives were getting unhappy with their husbands being gone so often. Some of the wives had complained to their husbands that they thought they were having affairs behind their backs, but that he was sure that I wasn't, although he did think that some of the other men were having affairs. He had asked at the "anniversary lunch" if we were having problems, because he couldn't imagine my not staying home for my anniversary. When Sara had told him we weren't, he had simply responded that he was glad to hear it, because so often men that are having problems at home use travel to get away from it, and then changed the subject. When they would have these lunch meetings, and the talk got around to personal things, he would often ask if we had anything planned, and suggest that perhaps we might want to do this or that. He was also quite sympathetic when I "volunteered" to do a trip during the times that we had things planned. Once or twice, when we had things planned, and I had to go out of town, he had called Sara, saying that the lunch would have to be put off, because he had something that had come up at the last minute, but could they do dinner instead. They had, apparently on two or three occasions. When Sara got done, I didn't say a word, I just went into the office and grabbed my laptop, and booted it up, accessed my e-mail, and pulled up the response I had gotten from Keith about not being able to go to the supplier because of my anniversary. When it was up, I put the laptop on her lap, and told her to read it. "Oh my God." "I have never, not once, volunteered to take one of those trips." The rest of the night was along these same lines, but the upshot was that I told Sara to sleep in one of the kids' rooms, because I really didn't want to sleep with her. Probably about 11:30pm or so, Sara went up and got what she needed out of our bedroom, then I heard the shower running for what seemed like the longest time. When it was done, I gave her a few more minutes, then poured myself a last drink and went into what had been our bedroom. I didn't drink the drink; I had already had more than enough, undressed and turned off the light. Despite all the alcohol, I didn't sleep well at all that night. I missed having Sara beside me, and the bed still smelled somewhat like Sara. I tossed and turned, hopefully sleeping more than I thought I had, but I finally woke up about 4:30 and went downstairs. I grabbed my laptop, and transferred everything on it that I wanted to my home machine, and by the time I had finished that, I could hear a shower running upstairs. Like last night it seemed as though it was running forever. Week from Hell Ch. 02 This is a continuation of "The Week From Hell". To get the full flavor of the story, I would recommend that you read that first, if you haven't already. The Week From Hell -- Sara's Story My name is Sara Moss, and I am married to Tom Moss -- or at least I am married to him in name -- we haven't lived together for several months, and it is all my fault. Tom is a manager for a group of field service engineers. I am a senior purchasing agent for an entirely different company. Unfortunately, as you will see, we also resell products from Tom's company after adding in extras to justify the price increase. Tom's boss, John, retired about a year and a half ago, maybe a little more than that, we were both excited about the prospect that Tom could take over John's position, and I know that Tom, as he put it, had his nose out of joint when someone from the outside was brought in to replace John. Anyway, a little over a year ago, I met Keith, Tom's new boss at one of the company parties. Greg, the CEO had always seemed to feel that Tom's company should be somewhat like a family, so he put on several events every year, often including purchasing agents and other outside people so that the "family" could meet with them and make sure that everything was as smooth as could be. It seemed to work, because everyone I talked to seemed to feel that working with Tom's company was a pleasure. In any event, I met Keith, and although he didn't initially seem to quite get it that I was Tom's wife, he was quite gracious, charming, and in all ways a gentleman. It was a month or two later that Keith called me and invited me out to lunch to talk over any issues we might have with their products, and to ask me for any input I might have into how they could improve their product. I knew that Tom thought that Keith was a "slimy, back-stabbing bastard", but I also thought that this was a chance to bring up several issues that we had wanted to be resolved for quite some time. The fact that I knew Tom had brought these same issues up to his management really didn't cross my mind, or at least I don't think it did. If it had, I probably would have written it off and thought that maybe if it comes in from two different directions, it would be received differently. In any event, I accepted, and we started meeting for lunch. At first it was only every month or so, but as time went on, it evolved into lunch every two or three weeks, but I think I am getting ahead of myself here. Over time, I begin to think of Keith as a friend. He was always gracious, charming, and a complete gentleman. There was never the slightest hint that he was interested in anything other than the good of the two companies. After a few months, our lunches begin to take on a bit of a personal note. Keith would talk about how hard his job was with the engineers going off, and as he put it, "using company travel as an excuse to see their girl friends." This was always followed up by him saying that he was absolutely sure that Tom wasn't doing that, but that a number of the other engineers were. I do remember him telling me that he was actually getting ready to fire one of his managers, Bob, because his wife had found out that he was seeing someone on the side when he traveled, and he didn't want to expose the company to a potential lawsuit. I knew Bob rather vaguely, and knew his wife Shirley a little bit better, and was surprised to hear this, as I had thought that Bob and Shirley had a very good marriage going, and Bob didn't seem to me to be the type to be playing around. Keith was also always on about how wonderful Tom was and how he didn't know how he would do without him. He told me how Tom was always volunteering to take these trips to the suppliers whenever anything went wrong, and how much he really appreciated it. We often talked about what plans we had for the coming weeks, and I discovered that Keith had an affinity for the arts that Tom really didn't have. Oh Tom would make sure to take me to anything that I wanted to go to, but I knew that he would be much happier staying home, or perhaps going out to dinner and dancing. I found out that Keith was an orphan like my sister Tara and I were. It seemed like a small world. I knew that my parents had been killed in some kind of an accident, and our foster parents adopted my fraternal twin and me. I really didn't have a lot of interest in pursuing that, although Tara, my twin, was really into finding out about our family. Keith had also been adopted as a small child, but his adoptive parents had died before he turned twenty-one. Every so often, Keith would call about a lunch meeting that we had planned, and tell me that he couldn't make it for whatever reason, and ask if we could substitute dinner, as he knew Tom was going to be out of town on one of his trips. I really didn't think anything about it; it was just another meeting to me, so I would tell him sure, not a problem. My relationship with Tom had been rock solid until he started volunteering for these trips. At first I tried to keep my mouth shut, because I felt that these trips would be good for his career, and I didn't want to be the whiney wife that got in the way of his career. But as time went on I got more and more frustrated with his job, and to be honest, with Tom. We would have a great weekend planned, or a get-away to some place, and he would have to go to some supplier to get a problem straightened out. Hearing from Keith that he was volunteering for these special trips just made things that much harder for me to deal with. When I would say something to Tom about it, he would tell me that he really didn't have a choice, and with two kids in college, he didn't feel that he could just quit his job and go looking for something new. The last part I agreed with, because we had a daughter and a son in college, and the expense was simply taking everything we had between the two of us to keep them there. But I know I was turning a bit bitchy. It seemed like almost every single time we had something planned, he would volunteer to go off on one of his trips. I had even asked Keith if he could try to get Tom to cut back on the trips, but Keith told me that he really couldn't do anything about it, as Tom was always letting Greg know that he was volunteering, and it would cause problems for Keith if he did. I was really looking forward to our 25th anniversary, and was quite pleased when Tom told me he had already gotten three days of vacation approved so that he wouldn't have to go on a trip. The play he had gotten tickets to was one I really wanted to see, and I had thought that this was going to be a wonderful anniversary, with an extended weekend, letting us perhaps get back to the life we had known before Tom had had to start traveling so much. When Tom came home the day before our anniversary, and told me that he had to leave early the next morning to go to a supplier, I was livid. I was beyond anger; I was hurt, I felt that Tom was putting his job far before our marriage; I was almost speechless with my rage. For the first time I begin to really think that maybe Tom was like the rest of the engineers, and had someone on the side. Tom tried to talk to me, but I wasn't having any of it. Finally Tom went up to bed about 10:00, and I stayed downstairs because I simply didn't want to be where he could touch me. When Tom got up the next morning, about 2:30, I simply pretended to be half asleep, and when Tom leaned over to kiss me goodbye, I was less than responsive, still pretending to be almost asleep. Keith called me that morning at work, saying he knew it was short notice, but wondering if we could go to lunch. I didn't think anything about it, and as I had already cleared my desk pretty much for our vacation, I really didn't have a whole lot to do, although I had cancelled my vacation that I was planning to take with Tom. When I met Keith for lunch, he was as gracious and charming as ever. We talked about a few things, and then Keith told me that he seemed to recall that we had an anniversary coming up pretty soon. I told him that this was our 25th anniversary, and Keith seemed to be a bit surprised, saying that he wouldn't have thought that Tom would volunteer to take a trip on such an important family day. Then he immediately changed the subject, but he had brought all my anger, hurt and suspicions back to me. The upshot? I invited Keith to go to the theatre with me. Keith accepted, after asking if I was sure that there wasn't someone else I would rather take. He then suggested that I change at his place, as it was on the way to the theatre, and that way we could take one car instead of two. I didn't even think about it, I simply agreed. After all, I hated changing in the ladies room at work, and I knew I wasn't going to have time to go home, get dressed and get to the theatre before the play started. When I got to Keith's apartment, he was the perfect gentleman, showing me to the extra bedroom, and immediately leaving to finish getting dressed himself. I used Tom's ticket to get Keith into the play, and during intermission he bought me a glass of wine. When the play was over, I got into Keith's sports car, and he invited me to dinner, saying that he thought that would help pay me back for a wonderful evening at the theatre. We had dinner, and I had one drink and a glass of wine, but nothing more. When Keith took me back to his place to get my things, I went into the spare bedroom, changed back into my work clothes, had everything in my arms and came out into the living room. Keith had poured a brandy for each of us, and insisted that I have a brandy for the close of the evening. I swear to God, I have no idea how the hell I wound up in Keith's bed. I wasn't drunk, I don't think that Keith drugged my drink, and my therapist doesn't think that he did either. The best the therapist can come up with is that I simply have blocked it out of my mind, although why I would do that, and not block out all the rest of that night, I cannot imagine. The only reason I can think of, and it isn't a very good one, or even a rational one, is that I was so mad at Tom, and so hurt that he would go off on our anniversary, that I simply decided to get revenge. That seems to me to be out of character for me, but I don't have a better explanation. All I can really remember is being in bed with him, while he did the most wonderful things to my body. It was like every nerve in my body was super sensitive. I can remember him licking me, his finger inside me while he nibbled and sucked on my nipples, often making his teeth graze my nipple, which sent chills down my spine, while his fingers played with my clit, and stroked the roof of my vagina. I remember him sucking and nibbling on my clit while his fingers inside me were driving me crazy. I must have cum at least three times, but I would bet it was more, probably four or five times. When he finally entered me, I came almost at once, and can remember that I was pulling him into me, doing my best to make sure that I had every single bit of him inside me. When he finally came, I could feel the warm sperm shooting inside me, and it sent me over the edge one more time. He was a gentleman, resting on his elbows afterwards, but I didn't let him stay that way for long. I brought his head down to my chest, and he nuzzled my breasts while we simply went to sleep after a long, hard, session. The next morning, I was having the most wonderful dream of Tom making love to me, and before I knew it, Keith was inside me again, when I finally opened my eyes and realized that it wasn't Tom, I went kind of nuts, trying to push Keith off me, but I had waited too long, and as I finally managed to push him off, he erupted into my pubic hair and across my stomach. I jumped out of bed, and cleaned up as best I could without taking a shower. I just wanted out of that damned apartment. I knew that I had to get home and change my clothes, as well as take a shower. I smelled like sex -- not just a little bit, but I reeked of sex. Christ, I still had his semen drying around my vagina. I threw on my clothes, which were strewn around the room, and dashed out to the car to get home. On the way home it hit me, I had just had sex with a man that was not my husband, and even worse it was my husband's boss. I had no excuses; I had just done about everything I could to fuck up my marriage. Whether Tom was having affairs may have been a question, but I certainly had. I made it into the house, managing to get to the toilet before I threw up. After heaving my guts out for longer than I even wanted to think about, I took a shower, trying to scrub myself clean, although I didn't think I could ever get clean. I dressed in a hurry, and got to the office about 9:30, late for my meeting with my boss, who expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms. I apologized, and we got to work on the planned agenda. The meeting was over a little before 11:00, and I went back to my office to find a dozen roses, mixed red and yellow. At first I thought it was from Tom, but then I read the card, which read: "Loved last night. I will remember it for many years." I started to throw the flowers into the trash, then decided I better not, that would cause more comment that if I just left them on my desk. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do, when I remembered I had shut my cell phone off last night for the play, and never turned it back on. I turned it on, and almost immediately it rang. I answered, and heard Tom's voice. "Where have you been, I've been worried sick about you. I tried calling you last night, and then again this morning. You've had your cell turned off, and I couldn't find you. Christ, I've even been calling the Sheriff's department and the Highway Patrol." I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind: "I went to the play you so generously provided for my entertainment, then went on to dinner, then to bed. Without my husband, I might add." I knew my voice sounded angry, but I wasn't really as angry as I sounded, I was scared, and had just said the first thing that popped into my head. We said a few more words to each other, and then hung up. I managed to get through most of the work day, but finally about 4:30 or 4:45, I gave it up for a bad job, and left, taking the flowers with me. I drove a few blocks, found a dumpster, and threw the flowers in, swearing to myself I was never going to put myself into that kind of a situation again. All the way home I kept praying to God: "Please don't let Tom find out. Please God. Please." I walked into the house about 5:30, and found Tom there, which I more or less expected, although it was a little early for him to be home, considering that he had been out of town. I kissed Tom, and apologized for being short with him that morning, explaining that I had had a bad morning, and had been a bit frazzled. Tom didn't say much, just made two drinks, and handed me one. Then he hit me with it. "Let me tell you a little story." I knew immediately that Tom knew something, I just didn't know how much. When the children were little, probably starting about when they were 3 or 4, Tom would do the same thing to them when they were in trouble. As Tom explained to me the first time he did it, he felt that it was just easier to lay all his cards on the table. It prevented the kids from trying to lie their way out of whatever trouble they were in, and just fess up. He told me how his trip to the supplier had been a waste of time, and that he had tried to meet me at the play, driven around looking for me, and finally had gone home, to wake up this morning without me there. "So now, what can you tell me about where the hell you were last night?" I had already started crying while Tom was telling me his "little story," and as I wiped my eyes with my hand, I could see mascara all over my fingers. For a few moments I couldn't talk, I tried to, but I couldn't, I just couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. I finished the drink in about two swallows, got up and got another one, bringing the bottle back to the living room where we were sitting. "Keith had called a couple of days ago, inviting me to lunch today and I had agreed. When we got to lunch, I was still pretty angry at you about the anniversary and you being out of town. We were talking during lunch, and Keith mentioned that he thought you had said we had an anniversary coming up. I told him that it was yesterday, and he said that he was quite surprised that you had volunteered to go on this supplier trip when it was our anniversary." "That set me off again, and I thought what the hell, so I invited Keith to go to the play with me. I explained that I had brought a change of clothes with me to work, and that I would change at work, and meet him at the theatre." "Keith said he would have to go home to change, then suggested that I meet him at his place because it was right on the way to the theatre, and offered to drive us, so we wouldn't have to get parking for two cars. He also offered the use of his spare bedroom for me to change in." "I agreed, thinking that it would certainly be easier to change in his spare bedroom, than in the ladies room at work." "When the play was over, Keith invited me to dinner, telling me that at least he could pay me back for the ticket for the play, and besides, on an important day like that, I shouldn't be alone." "We went to dinner, had a drink before dinner, then shared a bottle of wine during dinner. I might have had a bit too much, but I certainly wasn't drunk. When we got back to Keith's place, I went in to get my things, and when I came back out, Keith had poured us both a glass of brandy, and insisted that we share it before I went home. One thing led to another, and I wound up in Keith's bed with him." "I really don't know how or why I wound up in Keith's bed. I remember little bits and pieces, but none of them add up to my getting into bed with Keith." I went on, and explained as I have above about how our relationship had developed, and how I had gotten so hurt, angry and upset about the repeated trips that Tom had volunteered for instead of going with me to the different things we had planned. Tom was just stony faced, not saying a word until I finished. Then he went and got his laptop, turned it on, and brought it to me. He showed me an email from Keith that basically said that either he went on this trip, or he was in major trouble as far as his job was concerned. Then Tom told me that he had never volunteered for any of the trips, not a single one. Things didn't get any better that evening. Eventually I got up and went and took a shower, scrubbing myself to see if I could scrub the betrayal off my body, but I couldn't seem to. I didn't sleep well at all that night, and finally got up, took another shower, again trying to scrub myself clean, without succeeding, then made breakfast for the two of us. At least I could make up for the missed dinner the previous night. Tom asked about the long showers, and I just told him that I didn't feel clean, and couldn't seem to get clean. I also told him I had made a horrible error in judgment, that I loved him, and I asked him if he could forgive me. He basically told me he didn't know. Two weeks later I moved out of the house. Tom didn't throw me out, although he could certainly have justified that. It was just that Tom was so cold, so withdrawn, I didn't feel that I could continue living like that, and it wasn't proper for me to ask him to leave. I had asked Tom to go to counseling with me, but he refused, telling me that unless he was willing to forgive, he saw absolutely no reason to waste his time. Week from Hell Ch. 02 I told the kids that Tom and I had some marital difficulties and that I would be living with my sister for the time being. I also told them that while the problems we were having were between their dad and I, that it was my fault that it had gotten to this point. I didn't tell them exactly what the problems were. I don't know if the kids guessed, or if Tom said something, but they have been a bit on the distant side ever since. The second worst day of my life was when my sister, Tara, told me that she had found out who our brother was, and that it was Keith. For awhile I thought that I should just kill myself, but finally decided that wasn't fair to the children, and really not fair to Tom, although as far as Tom was concerned I couldn't have told you why. I guess because he might ultimately wind up thinking that if he had forgiven me, I wouldn't have killed myself. The therapist put me on much stronger anti-depressants, which helped a bit, and I managed to pull through, although it took me quite a bit of time. The mere thought today of having sex with my brother makes me want to throw up, and on several occasions I have. It was getting on toward the end of the school year, and after talking with my therapist about it over and over -- I was actually seeing her two or three times a week -- I decided that something had to give. Tom would talk to me, but it was always cold, there simply wasn't any warmth there. I asked Tom to meet me one Friday night after work at a small bar we had gone to a number of times over the years. We would usually have a drink or two, eat dinner and go home, but the main reason I wanted to meet there was to put us on neutral ground, and in a place where people couldn't overhear what we were talking about. I got there first, and had Tom's drink waiting for him when he got there. He wasn't any warmer than he had been since I caused the rift in our marriage. "Tom, before I get started, I would appreciate it if you would just hear me out, without any comments or questions. When I am done, you can ask anything you want." Tom agreed. I went back over the entire story that Tom already knew, although I did, intentionally, leave out any discussion regarding what Keith and I had done in bed. Tom didn't need to know that, or if he did, then I would tell him, but not unless he asked. "Tom, we have been separated for several months now. The children will be coming home for summer vacation in a little less than two months, and if we are going to put this marriage back together, then we need to start working on it now, or things are just going to get worse with the kids in the house." "I did something horrible to our marriage, to us, and to the children. I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done. Most of all I will never be able to forgive myself for what I have done to you, someone that I love very, very much. I know that I have hurt you, perhaps more than I can truly understand, although I am trying to." "However, we cannot simply keep on this way. I am willing to do anything I can to help put this marriage back together. But I cannot do it by myself. There has to be two people working at it. A marriage is a partnership, it has to be, and the two people involved have to work together to make it work. It can be destroyed by one person, but can only be built by two." "It is clear to me that we had more problems than just my going to bed with Keith. We had, at the least, communication issues, and very possibly other ones. But until we can voice those issues, get them out on the table and examine them, we will never really know. I didn't tell you about all the meetings with Keith, and I should have. I didn't really think about them at the time, it was just work, and then Keith just became a friend who I could talk with. You didn't tell me that Keith was requiring you to go on those trips. If you had, I doubt that this whole thing would have come up, because I would have known Keith was lying to me. You know I tend to believe whatever people tell me, so when Keith told me you were volunteering to go on those trips, I didn't even think to question it." "Did I fuck Keith? Yes I did. I'm not proud of it, and will be ashamed of it for the rest of my life. Did I set out to fuck him -- absolutely not." "If it will make you feel better to have a revenge fuck, then go do it. I would much rather have you make love to me, but if it will get this marriage back on track, I will never throw it in your face." "The decision is now yours. What do you want to do with this marriage and the 25 years we have had together, good times and not so good times. I have told you that I want this marriage put back together, and will do anything I can to do that. But I cannot go on the way we are. The longer this goes on, the more depressed I get, and wind up taking more and more anti-depressants. I don't want more drugs in my system. You know I have hated drugs all my life, and getting into a situation that requires me to take them gets me even more depressed, which means I need to take more drugs. I will not get further into that cycle." "If you can't agree to try to get this marriage back on track in the next month, then I am going to have to do whatever it is that will let me move forward. I am not really sure what that means, but at the least it is going to mean that I get my own place to live. I cannot continue living with my sister. It probably will mean that I will file for divorce, or at least separation. I simply have to put my life back together. I know that I caused the vast majority of the problems, but now is the time to decide if our marriage is worth saving. If you feel that it isn't, then maybe we never had the marriage we thought we had. Remember the for better or worse part of our vows? I know I broke the forsaking all others part, but what about the other parts of our vows?" "I'm done now. Do you have any comments, or questions?" Tom looked at me for the longest time, then simply said: "I can't get the images of you and Keith together out of my head. My imagination just won't let me." "I can't imagine that you want me to tell you the nitty-gritty details of what went on, although if you really want me to do that I will. Let me leave it at this for the moment. I never had Keith's penis in my mouth like I have had yours. It was just plain and simple fucking -- not making love -- just fucking. Keith never had a prayer of getting anal sex. I simply would not have done either one of those things, although if he had tried, it might have been a good thing. It might, in fact probably would, have gotten me to think what in the hell was I doing." Tom simply nodded, and sat there stony faced, although I thought that I could detect a glimmer of hope for me in his face and eyes. I put down my drink, stood up and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you more than I really know how to tell you right now. I will leave you, and you can make your decision." With that I kissed him on the cheek again, straightened up, and left the bar. It's been three weeks since I told Tom to figure out what he was going to do. My sister called it our come to Jesus meeting. We have spoken about things we need to talk about regarding our daily lives, but not much. In one more week I am going to find an apartment and start trying to put my own life back together. I think my sister is relieved, although she doesn't say so. She wants her own house back without her sister always around. I also suspect that she wants to at least talk to Keith so she knows something about our brother. Personally, the next time I see him I will probably want to shoot him. Do Sara and Tom get back together? I don't know. I don't know if I could put aside cheating on my 25th anniversary -- ever. Perhaps they divorce. Perhaps they renew their vows and celebrate that as their anniversary from then on. If anyone would like to continue this story, please feel free to do so, although I would appreciate seeing what you have done. Week from Hell When it finally stopped, I went upstairs, shaved, showered and got ready to go to work. When I came downstairs again, Sara was in the kitchen, breakfast almost ready, something neither of us had eaten except for weekends for quite some time. "Neither one of us ate last night, and I thought you needed something before you went to work." Sara looked like shit. Her eyes were puffy, even after the shower, and she looked like she hadn't slept much the night before. "What was with the long shower this morning? You took one last night too." "I can't seem to feel clean anymore. I scrub myself, but it doesn't seem to make any difference." "Tom, I love you more than anything in the world. Keith means absolutely nothing to me, and I made a horrible mistake. No, not a mistake, a horrible error in judgment, can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" "I honestly don't know. Time will tell, but right now, I can't make that call, I don't know if I can forgive and forget." The rest of the meal was in silence. I got in to the office early, just right at 8:00, and as I was walking in, I saw Bev, our accounts payable clerk, who also dealt with our expense reports. Bev owned me a couple of favors, so as we were going up in the elevator, I asked her for a favor. "Can you get me a copy of Keith's expense reports for the last year?" Bev looked a bit confused, then: "Why would you want those?" "It is something personal, that I really would rather not talk about." Bev didn't say much, but about 30 minutes later she came into my office with a folder, which she slid onto my desk. "There are two copies of Keith's expenses in there. They only go back about 10 months because the rest are in archives that I can't get into right now. Just remember that you didn't get those from me." With that she turned and left. It didn't take me more than 30 minutes to see the pattern in the reports, because he had apparently been filing them monthly. Yes, Keith had been taking other purchasing agents out to lunch or dinner, but none of them more than once every six weeks or so. Sara, on the other hand, had been taken out like she said, every three weeks or so. I compared the dates that he took Sara out, and with just a couple of exceptions, every single time was when I was out of town. I put all this together in a calendar, revised my letter of resignation to reflect what I had found, and headed for the CEO's office. Greg was astounded when I handed him my letter, as well as my laptop, and wanted to know why. "Keith has been setting me up so he can see if he can seduce my wife." "What?" I gave him a copy of my calendar, along with a copy of Keith's expense report, and a copy of when I had been to the suppliers. I pointed out the "coincidences", and left it at that. "So what about the seduction?" "He succeeded night before last." "How the hell do you know?" "My wife told me, when I came home unexpectedly." Now Greg is kind of a funny guy. Very moralistic. Goes to church every Sunday, but doesn't frown on those of us who don't, like Sara and I. But he is hell on anyone screwing around with other people's wives. I know for a fact that he fired one account representative because he was named in a lawsuit for alienation of affection, it didn't matter that the two of them eventually got married, he was gone for good. "Tom, let me look into this. I will get back to you today, or at the latest tomorrow. In the meantime, I assume that your marriage is not in the best of shape right now?" "Yeah, that is putting it mildly." "I am not accepting your resignation. Take two weeks, not vacation, not sick leave, just take two weeks off and see what you can do with your marriage. In the meantime, I will do some investigation and get back to you. For now, you are still on the payroll, but I don't want to see you in this building, or hear of you doing a damn bit of work for us." I wasn't sure I had ever heard him say "damn", but I understood his meaning. I went home, and of course Sara was off at work, and I had the joy of just sitting there and thinking about what had happened. Epilog Greg called me the next morning, and informed me that Keith had been terminated for cause the previous day. He also offered me Keith's job, along with a hefty increase in salary, numerous stock options and so on. I told him I had to think about it, and he immediately agreed. I think he might have been worried about a potential lawsuit. In any event, before the two weeks was up I told him that I would take the job, but that I wasn't doing any travel. He agreed, and I signed the offer a couple of days later. Two weeks after I quit, Sara moved out to her sister's house. I didn't throw her out, but the coldness on my part had been obvious, although she did everything I could imagine to make things better. Neither of us has filed for divorce or separation, and we still have joint bank accounts, and Sara's paychecks are still being paid into our joint accounts, we just don't live together. I don't know what Sara has told the kids, but the kids seem to be a bit ticked off at her. It's been three months now since our anniversary. I miss Sara, and our talks in the evening. The talks we have always had, even when the kids were small. It's hard to throw away 25 years of marriage, but on the other hand, every anniversary I would be thinking of what happened on our 25th. I suppose it might have been easier to forgive and forget if she hadn't stayed the night, then fucked the bastard the next morning. Sara has been going to counseling, and trying to get me to go to marriage counseling with her, but I keep telling her, until I can get to the point of forgiving and forgetting, what the hell is the point of marriage counseling? Yes, she was naïve, and got set up by a pro, but she didn't have to spend the night, and she sure as hell didn't have to fuck him the next morning. Oh, one last thing. Tara called me this morning, asking if Sara and I had had another confrontation. I told her we hadn't, and asked why. "Well, I was finally able to find out who our sibling is. His name is Keith Zolinkowski, and there is only one in the phone book. I told Sara last night, and she started acting like she did the first few days she was here. You know, sitting in her room and just staring at the wall. She won't eat much, and spends a whole lot of her time crying. I don't quite know what to do." "You won't have to look very hard to find Keith. Sara knows where he lives. That is my old boss, and the guy Sara was fucking that screwed up our marriage." I guess Sara had never told Tara what Keith's full name was.