50 comments/ 29587 views/ 10 favorites Half Dome By: sophist801 Eric's Discovery The scene before me was majestic, as perfect as a Norman Rockwell painting. The sky was full of pastel blues, pinks and oranges. No one but me would ever see it, which was, in some ways heart breaking. Things become complete when they are shared, yes? In the same way love between two people becomes whole, complete, when it is shared. The scene before me, the sky and landscape, was something free for anyone who wanted to appreciate it. Take a moment and look up and out your window. Maybe you would rather do a little late night star gazing or moon watching. The scene before me quickly morphed into a nightmarish scene. A newly discovered video was rolling across the screen before me. It blotted out the majestic sky beyond and was the single most heart breaking vision I'd ever witnessed. If I'd had the will and fortitude I would have switched off the recording and pretended it didn't exist. But my sick curious self-needed to know what she had done with someone I'd never seen before and probably would never meet. I was helpless to stop what was before my eyes even with the knowledge it had happened many years ago. For me the problem was that I was seeing the video now as if it had just happened! My emotions were an experience in real time and I was helpless to comprehend why. The woman in the video recording is Claudia. She was not necessarily a raving beauty or a model out of a glossy magazine. At 5 feet 9 inches she supported a tall, slender frame with long lithe legs she kept tone by running 3-4 miles each day. Her hair was very long, reaching to her waist but she almost always wore it tied atop of her head leaving her long white neck vulnerable. It was a neck I had enjoyed caressing, kissing and loving for the last 7 years. It was a neck she'd freely given to me along with everything else. Okay, so I have this thing about her neck! Seven years of blissful ignorance, of marriage I'd thought was perfect, now relegated to a video recording that left me physically nauseous and sick at heart. If my heart could vomit I would have long since made one hell of a mess. Claudia's nose is almost pointed as it leads her face forward. A face that always looked scrubbed clean with a polished look. Claudia's smile gave her a little-girl innocence that never failed to raise me from the dead even if I was in a state of exhaustion. Her breasts, though not large by anyone's standards, stood almost erect and firm against t-shirt-like material. Claudia always wore a half bra of soft cotton material that contributed to the little-girl mystique that drove me absolutely crazy. Yes, I loved her with madness and could watch her sleep all night long! I especially loved her tightly pursed lips that seemed to always part slightly when I was around. When words passed her lips I listened and watched with a kind of rapture as she would speak deliberately and with confidence. Claudia never slurred words or spoke with the "ahm, well, maybe, I don't know" forms of communication that drive me absolutely bonkers. Claudia was also confident and self-assured whereas people who stuttered often lacked genuine confidence. Did I say we'd been married for seven years? It is Claudia's eyes, eyes of a deep and dark mystery that never averted my gaze. Her eyes always seemed to be speaking before Claudia spoke. They glittered with a kind of caring insight that had always made me feel like I was the only one alive in her world. We frequently carried on entire conversations without speaking by simply looking at one another. And I could look at her for hours and never get tired or bored. Did I say I loved this woman? Yes, I have loved her more than anything in this life and for longer than I can remember. Hearing her laugh and touch my shoulder was all that she needed to do for me to be happy. To be the recipient of her love, her smile, her touch was enough to send me into a state of oblivion. I could have died and gone to heaven knowing she loved me and only me. The home movie, a cam recorder video recording, was of poor quality and was held in a fixed position. I was guessing it had been set atop of a dresser, TV or credenza. Most likely the room was a hotel room and I was guessing it was the Weston Hotel where Claudia had stayed 7 years ago. At that time she was in Mammoth Lakes attending a conference for advertising executives who were there to learn how to develop commercials for the ski industry. I sat wondering how many conferences or photo shoots she'd attended over the last seven years. When away from me was she sleeping with a lover? Mammoth Lakes is known for its "Mountain", Mammoth Mountain and Ski Resort. Both Claudia and I have always been avid skiers and oriented towards the outdoors so skiing Mammoth had always been a special trip. The Mountain has 36 chair lifts and several gondolas. It offers the best of skiing for everyone, regardless of their level of proficiency. The rich came from as far away as Japan and as close as Los Angeles. For Claudia attending a conference where she could ski to her hearts content made attending special, even if I had not been able to go with her, or at least that is what she'd told me one evening on our I-miss-you-so-much calls. I have always preferred rugged backwoods cross-country style skiing going where the average person will never consider than the comfort of a gondola and constraints of a well groomed path down a mountain with a snow base of 75 feet. This meant Claudia and I frequently would compromise by doing downhill skiing one day then tackling deep snow Nordic style. The man in the video recording with Claudia appeared to be a few years older than she, ruggedly handsome and in good physical shape. From the looks of the video recording, which was very difficult for me to watch, he seemed to be speaking with an accent, though I couldn't really discern where he was from. He could have been French? No, more like Austrian. It didn't really matter; the act had already been consummated. The deed was done. I was guessing that the act had been done just after we were married which would mean during the conference she attended in Mammoth Lakes. I never had any clue she'd cheated on me, on our marriage. I remembered our nightly phone calls had been almost "syrupy" with a plethora of I-miss-you-and-can't-wait-to-kiss-feel-and-fuck-your-brains-out! When Claudia did get home our lovemaking was almost frenetic, as if we were once again on our honeymoon and there was no one on the face of the earth as important as the two of us. For me that was the truth. We were still in that newlywed stage of our marriage. Trying new things made love making a wonderful adventure so I wasn't surprised when Claudia got home, ran and jumped into my arms knocking me to the floor. We didn't at first talk except for things like, "God I've missed you and want you now!" Passion had never been missing from our marriage. Now I could only wonder if that passion had been Claudia's way of making sure I never suspected her of indiscretion, or was it indiscretions? I just didn't know what or why and probably would never really know the complete truth regarding why she'd slept with another man. For that matter, for all I knew, she could have been having an affair all these years. I just did not know. The more I watched her and her lover I found myself getting progressively angry. I tried to remember if anything had changed since her return from the conference seven years ago. For the life of me, over the years, I never noticed any changes that indicated she'd been fucking someone on the side. I was already crazy with disgust and hurt. I was telling myself I could never look at Claudia again and kiss her beautiful, slender lips knowing she had never been faithful to me. I wanted her to feel my pain, my disgust. At that moment I wanted her to know our days of unconditional love-making were, over. The innocence was shattered and I believed, in my angry hurt way, I would never really heal. To complicate this picture Claudia and I have, at least for the last 3 months, we have actively been trying to have a child. After 7 years of marriage we both decided it was time. Now I was sure the quest to have a child would be put on hold (at least by me) until I could reconcile the video before me, and I had no idea how that was going to happen. The only way to do this would be to give Claudia the opportunity to explain and make things right. But how do you have something like fucking another man suddenly be right? There was nothing "right" about her fucking another man! How do you reconcile something as egregious as what she'd done in Mammoth? The other revelation was that my now not so innocent Claudia, my wife, had most likely not intended for me to see the video. Surprise, surprise, I've discovered Claudia's dirty little life lived with me yet behind my back. "Well this certainly puts and end to Italy." The words slipped past my lips for no one to hear. We have been planning a trip to Italy for a long time, probably since we were married. Just last night we'd identified a two week period in the future where we both could get away from our respective jobs to make the trip. It would also give us time to make sure we'd set funds aside to do the trip comfortably. I'd immediately gone online and began to research the trip. I have always been the one to plan our vacations, identify hotels and make flight reservations. With the internet as user-friendly as it is today it was a simple task. In fact, airlines provide financial incentives to do this. I'd gone through the process of booking flights from San Francisco to New York then on to Frankfurt, Germany. From Frankfurt we would catch a flight to Milan where we would spend 3 days before traveling to Venice. I'd gotten to the booking stage where the airline wanted the full names of the passengers and their passport numbers. Not knowing the passport numbers I'd gone on the proverbial search for our passports and ended up rummaging through our dresser drawers where we concealed such documents. Yes, it was on this search for our passports that I made my discovery that I'd found the video recording. It was in Claudia's over-flow lingerie dresser drawer where I located her passport, three boxes with diamond jewelry I'd given over the last few years, along with a turquoise wrist watch, and the infamous video tape. It was one of those small video tapes that fit our cam recorder, a cam recorder we had not used in years. With the age of digital technology and smart phones that are able to record, we no longer used anything else. Curious I'd located our old cam recorder, plugged in the AC adapter and then the video tape. In retrospect I wished I'd never had to search for the passport. Being happy, ignorant and dumb now sounded pretty good. Up until that moment in time when I hit the "play" button, I'd been the happiest person on this earth. I never did finish making the flight reservations and left the passports on the bedroom floor abandoning the documents to watch a little homemade pornography! After watching the video, seeing Claudia fuck another man I began to crash emotionally I moved to my desk top and made a copy to my hard drive. I did this with difficulty, not because of the technical aspects involved, but because I kept breaking down like a baby. In all the time I'd been married to Claudia I can only remember crying when we found ourselves laughing so hard that tears flowed. And yes, we had always laughed frequently. We laughed at everything. I think it was the one thing we did frequently that made living together such a joy. We never laughed at people but we did frequently laugh at the stupid things people did, especially our own screw-ups. Laughter was one of the ways we managed the stress of our jobs. We even laughed when we made love! Finding the video recording was no laughing matter. I silently thanked God Claudia and her lover never laughed out loud when fucking one another. I'd stopped to wipe the tears from my face and blow my nose before proceeding with my task of converting the cam recording copy to a digital format. I suddenly laughed the sad laugh of a man who could not remember the last time I'd really cried. Even as a child I was always stoic and fought back tears after being injured or embarrassed. I can remember breaking my arm after falling off of a bicycle and never shedding a tear. I reminded myself I was not riding a bicycle. I had always had an extremely high tolerance for physical pain. Emotional pain is something that hurts just as bad but cannot be bandaged or treated with an opioid medication like Violin. Yet, at that moment, Violin may have been just what was needed? I am also not the kind of person to pussy-foot around with trying to discover what had happened or getting more facts. I had hard evidence and if our marriage was going to end I didn't need any other reason. Masochism is not at all pleasurable for me! Quickly, after wiping my eyes on my shirt sleeve, I wrote Claudia a quick email. I sent it to her work and personal emails saying, "Please explain how, why, who, and how many times over the years you have fucked other men. Please have the courtesy not to come home until you have answers I can accept and understand. Maybe I will find a mountain to climb? Claudia, you need to know I probably will not believe a word you tell me!" I then attached the video recording and hit the "send" button. I did not sign the message. There was no form of endearment with the message. It was delivered cold and direct. Claudia worked for the same advertising agency she worked for 7 years ago and was, purportedly (I was beginning to question everything) in Utah directing a photo shoot for REI. I was not going to sit at my computer and wait for a reply. I needed to clear my mind. I was telling myself I needed to climb as high in the sky as possible. Some people destroy furniture while others get drunk when their world seems to fall apart. Some people just go looking for someone else to fuck and even the score. The best way for me to cope with what I'd just seen is to seek refuge beneath the sky and on some piece of rock that would force me to concentrate on what I was doing. Rock climbing was just what I needed so I quickly tossed my gear into the back of my FJ Cruise and began the drive towards Half Dome in Yosemite. It took me less than ten minutes to pack climbing gear and start my drive. The drive to Yosemite from the Bay area was approximately 4 hours, depending on whether or not I could beat the afternoon traffic. I stopped in Tracy to make sure I had a full tank of gas and purchased a few granola-and-cheese kinds of food supplies, canned tuna fish and made sure my water bottles were full. By the time I reached the Westside Yosemite gate I was physically and mentally exhausted but felt I could at least complete the drive to the base of Half Dome where I would sleep for a few hours. Then I would wake to watch the sun rise illuminate the Sierra Nevada Range and climb. When the sun streamed in through the car windows I was stiff from sleeping in my FJ. At first I was disoriented then recalled where I was and why I was there. The cam recording came back like bricks through a glass window and the images seemed to be the most horrific I could remember ever seeing. The memories were bad for me because I think my manly pride was injured and I had no answers. Claudia would be in Utah for another 3-4 days on her photo shoot so I needed to be someplace alone, to think, to commune with nature and be "above it all": For me there is no place on earth quite like Half Dome to accomplish these things. Someday, sometime in the future, I would have answers to my haunting questions but today the sun was shining and I was going to climb Half Dome, alone. It occurred to me as I strapped on my harness and slung my climbing pack onto my back that this was the first time I was doing this climb solo. There was no one to "spot" for me or take up the slack in my rope. Hell, I wasn't even carrying rope! This meant I was not carrying additional weight from packing pitons or carabineers, except for what I might need to strap myself to bare rock in the event weather suddenly turned bad. I chuckled to myself and shook my head as I thought about how quickly the weather in my marriage had turned to shit. The weather in Yosemite was nothing by comparison. I would at least be prepared and know what to do. When on a climb you could always hunker-down and wait for the clouds to pass. The rock beneath my hands, fingers and feet was cold, hard and did not yield. It felt good! Claudia in Zion, Alone I glanced at my emails and saw that I had 36 that were unread. It had been a long, long day. We were shooting in Zion National park and it had been well over a hundred-and-ten degrees all day every day! The shoot included everything from jackets, parkas, winter boots, skies, snow shoes and items customers would need in winter. The catalogue we were working on was due to be released the end of next month. I was fried and was in no mood to go through 36 emails. Most of the crew were mostly models, which meant working in the heat was crazy. But that is the nature of the advertising business. In winter we would be freezing to death as we prepared for summer. It was easy to mark the spam emails as "junk" and then identify emails that I needed to respond to before going to sleep. There was only one email I really wanted to read and that was from Eric, my husband. It was killing me to be away for so long, especially since we'd decided to try and have a child. We were also planning a trip to Italy before pregnancy saddled us with the need to be "responsible" parents. I smiled thinking about how much I was looking forward to becoming a mother, a more complete family, just after seeing Italy. I really didn't know what becoming "more responsible" meant. There was one email from Eric. Seeing his name caused me to get all week in the knees. After 7 years of marriage he was the only man who made my heart do summersaults. I sat on my hotel bed getting ready to open the email and noticed there was an attachment and thought he might be sending me something special, something to put me to sleep and help me dream of him. Maybe it was one of those funky greeting cards designed to make me laugh? We laughed a lot and I smiled again knowing I didn't need anything to help me dream of Eric. Then I decided to take a quick shower, wash off the heat and dust of Zion and wait for the air conditioning to cool off the hotel room. Then I could sit in bed, comfortable, and enjoy Eric's email before drifting into dreamland. Just thinking about Eric made me want him by my side. He was the only man I'd ever known who could turn me on just by thinking about him! I closed my eyes to try and recall Eric. At 6 feet 2 inches weighing 195 pounds he is the image of chiseled manhood. He is muscular and lean giving him a lithe appearance. His sandy blond hair is almost always unruly and he usually needs a shave. His eyes are a light blue and they always seem to look directly into my soul calling me to him with love and warmth. I love everything about him but most of all I love how he "loves" me. I'm not talking about how great a lover he is, I am talking about how perfect and pure his love is. It is a love that makes me trust him so completely, a love that always makes me feel safe. After tossing my clothes in a corner of the hotel room, far enough away so I couldn't smell them, I climbed into the shower marveling in how good the water felt. Yes, women sweat! As I closed my eyes letting the water cascade over my white skin and those places where the sun never touches me, I imagined Eric standing behind me, his hands softly teasing my nipples while his lips played havoc with my neck and ear. At the same time I could feel his rising erection behind me, nestling in the crack of my naked ass. It is a beautiful erection that tells me I am also desirable and that he is all mine! Half Dome Opening my eyes was a disappointment I realized I was still in the shower, alone. My fingers doing a mediocre job of what Eric does so well. After all of the years my love for him has only grown stronger and more complete. Deciding to have a child together only makes me miss him more. Having a child will complete us as a man and wife; it will somehow make us whole. We will be a family and our love will then be shared with a child, our child. With water covering my face I prayed our first child would be a boy. I didn't really know why I was praying for a boy. A boy would mean Eric would have a son to teach how to play baseball and climb mountains with. I guess I was remembering how wild a teenager I was back in high school and college. Now I look back on those times and realize I was more of a free spirit, not free. Sure, I did my fair share of dating but rarely slept with anyone. "I will be finished here soon, my love. I miss the feel of your arms, the taste of your lips, and how you fill me with your love." My words seemed to naturally fill the hotel room with his presence. As I walked out of the bathroom, the hotel room air conditioning had done its job and it felt pleasantly cool. I could feel my nipples get hard against almost immediately. With a bottle of chilled water, and an apple, I crawl into bed with my laptop to read Eric's email before getting the sleep I need. I decided not to sleep with any clothes on, seeking instead to feel how the crisp white sheets tease my skin as I sleep. Because of the heat of the day the only thing I needed was the sweetness of the apple and water to quench my thirst. At that moment food was not appealing at all, but quenching my thirst would feed me with what I needed. Eric was the food I needed and craved! There was no heading to Eric's email other than "FW": I thought this a little strange because Eric would sometimes put his entire "I love you" message in the heading. I clicked open the email to read, "Please explain how, why, who, and how many times over the years you have fucked other men. Please have the courtesy not to come home until you can answer these questions. Maybe I will find a mountain to climb? Claudia, you need to know I probably will not believe a word you tell me!" How many ways do you say shocked? His words were not something he would joke about in order to make me laugh. His message was too direct and hit me so hard that I think I stopped breathing. I dropped the half-finished water bottle on the bed, letting the remaining water dribble onto the bedspread. The apple with a single bite in it rolled out of my hand to fall on the floor and roll away. Had Sleeping Beauty experienced such a sense of loss after taking that single bite of the witch-cursed apple? My life, my perfect life, was suddenly something I could not explain. I was holding my breath as I realized what was probably in the attachment. At the very least the perfect life I'd known was transformed into a shit-storm. It was a shit-storm I'd left behind me a long time ago, seven years, maybe longer. There was only one time I'd ever been unfaithful. Only one time and that had been a long time ago! Unable to think, unable to do anything more than let tears fall; I was paralyzed with fear and self-loathing. Had Eric discovered that stupid tape I'd made years ago? I'd kept it for security purposes and never intended for anyone to see, let alone Eric! I'd also meant to destroy it years ago! Why had I been so non-chalant? Had I wanted Eric to find it? No! Eric was never meant to see or know about the cam recording! With a double click on the attachment my 17 inch screen leapt to life with the recording, the recording of myself and a man whose name I could never forget. James Marshal Dean was the CEO of East Italia Mountain Enterprises, one of REI's primary competitors that serviced most of Western Europe. I'd filmed my indiscretion at the advice of Monica Potter who was one of the VPs for REI. Monica had asked me to "entertain" Marshal during the Add Executive Conference in Mammoth Lakes. Monica had wanted me to do my best to find out if East Italia Mountain Enterprises planned to expand into the U.S. market. The recording would, hopefully, be able to verify everything he shared with me about East Italia Mountain Enterprises intended business intentions. The tape, after a year or so, was to be destroyed! Why didn't I destroy it? I remembered the conversation I'd had with Monica. "Monica, why me? You know I recently got married! Why me!?" I was frantic with apprehension and scared to death my marriage would be damaged. "Two reasons Claudia. Beside the fact we may never have another opportunity to get a little inside information, James likes you. His tongue seems to flop out of his mouth whenever you are around. Second, you have a little girl innocence that makes it easy to trust you. Your innocence is amplified by the fact you are so God-Damned charming." Monica's words were encouraging but only made me feel cheap and not-so-innocent. At the time I remember feeling felt like a whore! Was it my innocent nature that made Eric love me? I wanted him to love me for who I was not my innocent look! At the time I'd only been married to Eric for a few months and did not want to begin our marriage with fucking strangers. At the same time I remember there was a little tingle in the back of my brain, a tingle that traveled down my spine and crossed over into my entire pubic region. It was something that excited me! I began to reason it was a one-time opportunity to fuck another man without anyone (except maybe Monica) ever knowing! As much as I struggled with the immorality of Monica's request I knew I would do my best to seduce James Marshall Dean. The overriding justification was that I was doing it for a greater good. We have the ability, I realize now, to delude ourselves into thinking some things in our life may be compartmentalized, stored in a locker where no one will ever see, hear or know about it. It was the knowledge I would have a dirty "little" secret over my husband that also got me excited! My twisted thinking made it easy to do the deed. Besides James Dean Marshall was all man, very attractive, in exceptional physical condition and someone I knew I would never see again. It was my opportunity for a zipless fuck! I vowed that day it would be the only time I would ever step out on Eric and I have kept that vow. Later I would ask myself how I could so easily break my marriage vows then turn to myself and vow I'd never do something like that again. When you become an adulterous whore you need to be able to rationally justify your actions. Now I believe there is no way to justify breaking a promise or a commitment to someone you really love. Did I really love Eric? Was I testing my love for my husband? Seducing James Marshall Dean was the price for information that did help REI position themself to head off a takeover by the European Company. My job was also secured and my marriage did not seem injured. In fact it seemed to help me commit myself to Eric in a very real way. It helped me realize I had everything a woman could ever want in a husband and it was foolish to do anything to put my marriage in jeopardy, ever again. Steeling myself for watching the attached recording I sat and watched, wondering what had gone through Eric's head when he watched it. I had never sat down and watched the recording of James and myself, not wanting to really remember the event that I was now deeply ashamed of. Turning the sound to mute I spared myself the indignity of hearing any of the sounds that accompany two people fucking. I reasoned sound would have made viewing the video recording even more painful. Nonetheless, the visual images, though grainy and incomplete, brought back a memory where James had almost forced himself on me. I say "almost" because at one point I remember trying to find a way out of the situation I'd put myself in then gave in after his hands found their way to my breasts and his lips discovered how vulnerable I am when my neck is licked and kissed. I'd lead him on and realized, albeit a little too late that I could not suddenly turn to James and tell him I'd changed my mind, that the price of fucking him was too high. This thought came to me just as James penetrated me, just as he began to slam himself into me. Just as I had an orgasm that forced me to closed my eyes. It was the orgasm that also brought me back to the here-and-now making me feel extraordinarily guilty for what I was doing. I shut off the recording after a couple of minutes, completely disgusted by what I'd done. Other than the initial orgasm it wasn't even memorable sex! The thought of Eric, sitting alone at home, watching me with another man, brought on a sense of shame that I have never experienced. The shame was full of pain, anger and self-recrimination that physically hurt. If I was feeling these things, all over again, what had Eric experienced as he watched me fuck James? Sitting in my now not-so-comfortable hotel bed in Zion I knew I had to respond to Eric's email. Before I responded I got out of bed and put on a pair of cotton pajamas, not because of the chill from the air conditioner, but because of my sense of shame. It was a weird act and I didn't think about it until I sat back down at my laptop. This time there was no illusion I'd lost the innocence Eric had come to love and covet. My shame was now accompanied by sorrow and a silent wish I could go back in time and undo having ever met James Marshal Dean. If Monica were to ask me, today, to seduce someone for the company I'd tell her to go fuck herself. "Dear Eric, James Marshall Dean was the man in the video recording. It happened because my boss (you remember Monica?) wanted information regarding the rumor that West Italia Mountain Enterprises was planning to expand into U.S. Markets. I have never been with anyone else since we were married. It was a one-time indiscretion. It occurred in Mammoth Lakes at the Advertising Executive Conference and I kept the tape for insurance purposes. (I wanted the audio recording of what I learned from James to verify what I told Monica, should the information be incorrect.) I have always regretted what I did and have done everything possible to reconcile my actions and be the best wife I possibly could. You only need to search your heart to know what I saw is the truth. Other than contacting Monica Potter to verify why and when it happened, I cannot prove to you that my words are, in fact, the truth. I only pray you know how much I love you! Claudia." Once the email was sent I lay back on the hotel bed and proceeded to cry myself to sleep wondering where and what Eric was doing. There was no doubt in my mind Eric was hurt. I knew he would seek comfort on a mountain and would, most likely not hear from him until he had broken a few fingers rock-climbing, bruised his knuckles and skinned both knees banging against rock. I could only pray he didn't take any unnecessary risks and get really injured or killed. In the morning, after an almost sleepless night, I felt my world with Eric (and as a future family) was now ruined. With black coffee in hand I got into my rented car and began my drive back to San Francisco. I stopped by the REI shoot and briefly explained I had an emergency and was headed home or what once was "home". People tried to talk me into staying explaining that we were almost finished. I didn't listen to anyone. My job was, at that moment, meaningless. The drive, through some wide open spaces was conducive to thinking. Without much traffic on the road I tried to put myself in Eric's shoes, tried to imagine what he might be feeling and where he might go to climb. Shortly after we were married Eric introduced me to "rock", to the rush derived from climbing for the sheer pleasure from challenging indomitable mountains. Our first major climb had been Half Dome in Yosemite. I was carefree and had the attitude that nothing bad would ever happen to us, at least not while climbing a "stupid" mountain. I'll never forget Eric's response. "Claudia before we do this I need to know you are serious, that you have my back, and will do everything possible to make sure we are safe. I will do the same for you. I won't climb Half Dome with you if you think this is some far-out-and-cool game." The look in Eric's eyes told me immediately he was dead serious. Climbing rock like Half Dome meant being respectful of the elements and as proactive as humanly possible. This was a different side to the Eric who enjoyed laughter, who was a carefree spirit, who always seemed to find joy in everything we did. It had also been a powerful lesson regarding trusting and respecting one another. At the time I failed to understand how the lesson spilled over into our personal life as husband and wife. When Yosemite National Park opened in the spring of this year Eric had circled a small article from the LA Examiner. It described the first casualty of the summer season as an experienced Park Ranger who fell to her death after being caught in an early rain and sleet storm. The Ranger had tried to descend and encountered a face of ice. The article refereed to the "First Climbing Death" of the season. The "first" implying more climbing deaths were expected. On average 9-13 people die from climbing accidents in Yosemite National Park each year! People, experienced and in-experienced, climb regardless of the hazards thinking death will never come to them. The "I am invincible it won't happen to me" attitude is exactly what gets climbers killed. The rock always wins. Fuck with rock and you fuck with Mother Nature and ultimately God. While remembering that first climb with Eric and the article he'd left for her to read, I had little doubt in my mind Eric would be half way up Half Dome that very day. I quickly made the decision to drive in the direction of Half Dome, rather than home. I was fearful Eric might do something foolish and actually climb Half Dome alone! Would he do that? I could only imagine how he must be feeling which would make it likely he would not be able to give his full attention to his climb, to the rock, to Half Dome. As I drove in the direction of Half Dome, frequently breaking into tears, I admonished myself for having been so stupid. First, I'd slept with another man thereby cheating on my husband! Second, I'd recorded the event thinking it a way to verify the information I'd received that night from James Marshall Dean. Third, I'd been especially stupid for keeping the tape for the last seven years. Fourth, it was happening to me, to our marriage, and there was no longer any place to hide. Eric on Half Dome, Alone My climbing pack felt heavier than usual, even though I wasn't carrying much weight. The sunshine rising in the East gave me a sense of optimism I would have good weather up and down Half Dome. Climbing forced me to concentrate, to meditate and focus on all aspects of the rock in front of, above and below. I was thinking I could climb Half Dome in that day and be back to my FJ before nightfall I would climb hard, fast and safe. I could not safely climb with my mind on Claudia. I knew this and believed my life depended on my ability to become "one with" the rock. Forcing me to concentrate was exactly what I needed because I was determined to climb nonetheless. I needed to meditate and respect Half Dome which left little room for intrusive thinking. I held no such illusions that the dangers related to what I was about to do were very real. These dangers were exacerbated by the fact that I was now climbing alone and without safety lines. It was exactly this knowledge that made me realize I doing something outside of my comfort zone, something that challenged all sensibility, and immediately caused adrenalin to flow. I made the decision to take things slow yet maintain a constant pace. For most climbers my "constant" pace would still be considered fast. My real goal was to control the encroaching images of a man with my innocent-looking wife. Back then, when Claudia and I first climbed Half Dome, she'd been especially "innocent" looking, even if her love making skills were off the charts. I'd often wondered how she developed her ability to use her mouth, her tongue and every other part of her body to please me yet appear so innocent. I realized the "innocence" was just something I wanted to see, something that excited me! I made my ascent making sure I always maintained three contact points with the rock. I did not stop frequently unless it was to search for tiny cracks in the rock where a finger might give me something to hold on to. As I found these tiny openings in the rock I made mental notes for my feet that would soon inch me towards the summit. When images of Claudia intruded I would catch myself doing something stupid like looking between my legs to see the distant floor of the earth. At those times the feelings of vertigo forced me to pay attention to the rock at hand and above me. Stupid shit! Do you want to die here or in your bed an old man!? So I clung to the rock and continued my ascent. My life was based on my ability to stay focused. Did I want to live? Was it easier to simply give up and fall to earth? Would Claudia mourn my death or would she laugh? Fuck it, I wasn't going to die on Half Dome so she could laugh at me and collect my death benefit! Early in our marriage we'd taken out $250,000 whole life insurance policies on each other reasoning it was a good way to save money and provide for each other should something unfortunate happen. Yet, it would be so easy to let myself fall. No one would ever question the act as suicidal. It just wasn't who I was. There was a moment on my ascent when I felt my lower lip quiver and nose fill with snot. When I realized I was crying I used my one unattached hand to squeeze my nostrils between fingers and give a single and forceful discharge of air. The act dislodged the snot and almost caused me to fall. There was another moment, just before I reached the summit, when I had to stop and close my eyes, to breathe and catch my breath and give myself the biofeedback command, "Slowly . . . in . . . out . . . I . . . am . . . calm." As I rested, my biofeedback training helped me remember to breathe in-and-out, slowly. The exercise helped me push my pain into a locked room I imaged existed in some distant place. The climb up the face of Half Dome was a fast ascent. By 1:00PM I was sitting at the top of Half Dome, eating from a tin of sardines (great for energy) and sipping water. Normally the view would have been breathtaking and defied description but at that moment I was not concerned with scenery. I was giving thanks for having made the climb in one piece. Something else was beginning to happen. I was beginning to blame myself for not having been enough of a man to meet Claudia's needs and it was that sense of inadequacy that flooded me with despair. Claudia had never, not once in our marriage, complained about my ability to make her happy in the bedroom but that did not stop me from wondering what I had done or not done. I took a moment to use my smart phone to take a couple of photographs and wondered if I would look at the photos later and not remember having made the climb. That's why we take photographs, to document and brag to others, yes? We also take photographs so we can remember what life looked like in moments frozen in time. I took the photographs to remind myself that climbing rock like Half Dome and surviving was a good way to define our lives. The photographs would remind me I had nothing to be ashamed of, that I had loved deeply and done nothing to drive that love away. I would survive and transcend my heart ache. Half Dome I would be alright even if it meant being alone. I would just have to find another way to laugh. There was an irony, a realization, that slapped me in the face with such force that I almost jumped over the side of Half Dome. Climbing and meditating are not so far apart. From the meditation, the introspection, come moments of understanding that hit me like a bird dropping. Ever had a bird drop shit on you? It is a strange feeling. It happens fast. The bird flies off before you can say or do anything. The insight, bird-shit insight, was so profoundly simple that I chuckled to myself. We can never control the degree of love someone else has for us so why should I hold the illusion Claudia loved me exclusively, in the way I loved her? The thought, though sad, was liberating. That moment of insight came on so quickly (some may even call it an epiphany) and told me I was mourning the loss of Claudia's innocence, or at least what I perceived to be innocence. It was a perception that made sense to me. Part of me suddenly realized I had held her to a Platonic standard of innocence which had little to do with the depth of my love. The loss was not Claudia's loss of innocence it was my perception she was pure, innocent, and my perfect love. The realization that my perceptions had been shattered did not alleviate my pain; it just put responsibility back on me for what I did with the rest of my life. Sure, it had been a shock to see the video of Claudia with another man. It was traumatic and challenged my thinking. But it was my innocence that was now also lost, not Claudia's. If I had been so naively innocent, at least for the last 7 years, I realized Claudia lived with the knowledge she had violated a trust? It was time to leave Half Dome, to climb down the back side and face Claudia. By 1:15PM I was beginning my decent down the backside of Half Dome. When I reached the backside base of Half Dome I circled around to the base where the parking lot was. Climbing Half Dome had given me the opportunity to leave my anxieties on the rock. During my decent I grappled with feelings that were new to me, in a raw and primordial way. I continued to search my memory for a time when I had failed Claudia and could not think of any. Though I knew where I was on Half Dome I felt lost and confused. There was nothing tangible. I also believed there had been no behaviors indicating Claudia had ever been unhappy with me or our marriage. Yet, nothing would change the fact she'd fucked another man then hid it from me. Nothing. It was after 6:00PM when the Half Dome parking lot came into view. Every muscle in my body was sore but I had not broken any bones (frequently I break a finger while climbing). As tired as I felt, emotionally and physically, seeing my FJ gave me a little boost of energy. I picked up my pace, thinking I'd climb into the back of the Cruiser and sleep for a few hours before driving out of Yosemite, maybe in the direction of Bishop or Mammoth Lakes and find a hotel room where I could wash off the dirt and sweat left from the Half Doom climb. There is a restaurant located at the old County Airport in Bishop where I could get a wonderful Thai meal. The restaurant, Thai-Thai, had been one of those discoveries Claudia and I made 4 years ago. I was thinking it would be an ideal place for us to have an authentic Thai meal and discuss our future. At the same time I no longer expected everything would be alright. It was more than alright. It was reality. I was tossing my back pack into the back of the FJ, having opened the rear door, when I heard her voice, a voice I would recognize anyplace. I was, for a moment surprised to hear the voice wondering how she'd known I would climb Half Dome? I guess I disliked the fact I could to be so predictable. It also told me that, regardless of what happened between Claudia and me, she knew me better than anyone. "I'm so sorry Eric." What else was she going to say? To be remorseful was important. "Claudia? I thought you were in Zion?" I wasn't ready to really ready to discuss her apology. I didn't know if I would ever be able to accept her apology. Yet, it was good to know there was remorse on her part. "Well, Eric, I thought it more important to be here, with you, where I feel safe. Where I can see and hear you. After I read your email last night I decided to do my best to find you." I stood just looking at my wife as if seeing her for the first time. My blinders were gone. She was still incredibly beautiful, at least to me. "Can we go someplace to talk, please?" I thought it a little funny she wanted to talk even when I knew it was exactly what we needed to do. Why didn't she come to me after fucking James and ask to talk? Because we were so immature back then? I probably would have gone ballistic and kicked her ass out the door. Kicking her out the door was a definite possibility even now. We did need to talk and her little-girl "please" reminded me of the kinds of things she could do to get me to bend towards her. Claudia was no longer a little girl. "I need a bath and by the looks of you getting clean may be a priority." Claudia winced as I mentioned the need to get clean. I was not thinking of the figurative "getting clean" until I saw it in her eyes. "How about we meet in Bishop at the Best Western on Highway 395? I need a bath then we can find a little restaurant. Will this work for you? And Claudia, I'm not promising anything at this point, at least not until I have a better idea of what the weather is like, tomorrow." Weather was a reference to that wild card climbers always needed to pay close attention to. Their life often depended on which way the wind blew, literally. Claudia nodded her head in agreement. I could tell she was fighting back tears, as I was. Seeing Claudia had changed my plans. I'd thought a few hours of sleep was warranted before making the trip back to the Bay Area, to San Francisco. Now it seemed like a good idea to make the 55 mile drive to Bishop. "Eric, why don't we stop in Mammoth, it is closer?" As soon as Claudia made the suggestion she looked at me and her tears started to fall. "Sorry, bad idea, yes?" Mammoth Lakes where she'd fucked James Dean Marshall so long ago. "Yep. Bad idea." The thought of going someplace that held the memory of a time, even if it was a seven-year-old memory, was a very bad idea. Claudia in Bishop I pulled into the Best Western parking lot right behind Eric. He went into the office and got us a room with 2 Queen sized beds. The room was clean and spacious but it was not home and the significance of two beds was evident. It was a place to get physically clean and rest and not much more. I was not expecting anything else until we'd resolved where our marriage would be the day-after-tonight. Eric's demeanor had changed and that frightened me. Of course, I had changed. He was polite but kept his distance. Once in the room he stripped off his t-shirt and sat down in a chair with a bottle of water. We were both dirty, tired and our lives were very much in crisis. I'd had seven years to grapple with my infidelity. Eric had a single day to digest the information. I'd lived with the shame for 7 years! Would it take 7 years to convince Eric I loved him and wanted his child? If it took 7 years to convince him then that is the penance I am willing to do but I didn't believe Eric would wait 7 years. I'd made no such plans for what I would say or do if this day ever arrived. When Eric insisted I shower first I did not argue. Once I was in the bathroom I quickly peeled off my clothes and entered the shower, making sure the water a hot. I was feeling "dirty". Once I'd finished washing my hair I heard the bathroom door open. Through the beveled glass shower door I could tell Eric was naked. He moved his hard muscled limbs with coordinated confidence. At first I thought he was going to use the toilet or brush his teeth so I was surprised when he opened the shower door and got into the shower with me. After all, I was now dirty! Eric didn't speak as he pulled me to him with a deliberateness that told me he was not asking, he was taking what he wanted. Though he frightened me I was inwardly excited. I wanted him to fuck me in a way that told me I was his and only his. Eric's hands were rough from callouses and cuts sustained while climbing Half Dome. He didn't mean to hurt me but his fingers and hands scratched my soft white skin. When he pulled me to him his 24-hour beard scratched as well. I knew I would soon look like I'd been sandpapered but didn't really care. We did not speak. I was afraid talking would cause Eric to turn away from me and that was the last thing I wanted. I wanted him to want me. I wanted him to take me in a way that was new to both of us. I silently made up my mind I would not deny him anything! I would make sure I was all he needed as a friend, lover and wife. I could be all those things. Eric turned me to him, his lips and mouth covering my lips. While he did this his hands seemed to maul every part of my body, pinching and pulling nipples and skin with a deliberate roughness that was uncharacteristic of how we usually "made love". His fingers soon were easily being pushed into me, fingers that pinched and pulled my vaginal lips to the point where he was hurting me. As I moaned my response into his mouth he seemed to increase his attack like an animal that did not care about his mate. What Eric was doing had nothing to do with trying to satisfy either of us. It bordered on what a dog does when claiming his bitch. Was this the price I was to pay for a 7-year-old mistake? So be it. Eric seemed oblivious to my tears as he raised my left leg with one hand while guiding his cock into me. There was no subtle seduction, no loving caresses, and no concern for what I was feeling. He was taking me letting his cock claim his bitch. The only comfort was that Eric and I were, for the time being, together and that gave me hope. I was surprised when I felt my own orgasm rise from some unseen place deep within me. I did not at first recognize what was happening. I relaxed as best I could and gave into the feeling, the emotional release, and ecstatic sense of release. After coming I realized Eric was still pumping in-and-out of me. He seemed crazed and it felt like pure anger was now slamming into me with mindless force. That was when he spun me around so he could enter me from behind. As he did this he pushed me forward then proceeded to use the hotel soap on my back and ass. I think I let out a whimper when I realized what he was about to do, not because I was afraid he'd hurt me, but because we'd rarely had anal sex. Usually we talked about it and Eric took his time making sure I was ready for him. It was an act of love that had always been special and exciting. There was nothing special about what was happening now. This was not an act of love yet I knew I loved Eric beyond reason. He did not use his tongue or fingers to loosen up my tiny asshole he simply soaped up my asshole and forced the head of his cock deep into my ass. He would stop when he was half way inside of me to let me adjust and accommodate to his intrusion and size, then slam into my bowels. Eric had already had an orgasm but stayed hard so it seemed like he pounded my ass for a long, long time. The shower constantly fell upon us as if washing away the dirt and comforting our sore muscles and tired minds. If we were both tired from climbing and driving we were both soon exhausted. The water did feel good but Eric "taking" me with such force was something he'd never done before and I knew I was going to be sore beyond belief. Once Eric came inside of me he held onto me, my breasts smashed against the tiled shower wall. They would also be sore for days to come. "Claudia?" Eric's voice was a hoarse whisper in my ear. He held me firmly against the shower wall but was now holding me with less force. "Yes?" All I could do was let him know I heard him and was listening. I was doing more than listening, my entire body was listening to every sound and touch. "It would kill me if I were to ever learn there was someone else, another act of fucking another man, even if years past." He did not let me off of the tiled wall. Every part of me hurt like hell. Yet, I knew I would never be able to lie to him again, even if it was a simple lie of omission. Hiding the video tape had been a serious lie of omission. I suspected Eric had not received my email reply. It was information he needed to know now. "Eric, I have not been with anyone else since we have been married. It was the only time and I have regretted it since that day. Please search your heart and know I would die before ever doing something like that again." The shower water made me blink and shake my head. As I shook my head, meaning to shake the water out of my eyes and off my hair, I hit Eric in the nose. Eric then released his hold on me. When he turned me to face he seemed to have relaxed and he was holding his nose. There was a smile on his face as a little trail of blood mixed with the shower water dribbled down the drain. It was enough for both of us to break down and laugh. It was the laughter, more than the sex that I welcomed. "I believe you. Tomorrow you will have to tell me the entire story. For now I think we both need to sleep." Eric's words came to me as heavenly music, music that came as words of love and forgiveness. The "entire story" left me with a somewhat bad taste in my mouth. Did he really believe me? Did he honestly, believe me? God, I hoped so! I did sleep very well. Maybe I'd slept too well, because I did not hear Eric when he got out of bed, showered and went out the hotel room door. When I reached for him and did not find him next to me I reasoned he'd stepped out to get coffee but the thought was not something I believed. I was alone in the hotel room and suddenly had a very unsettling feeling. Slipping out of bed I did a quick search of the room and bathroom to confirm Eric was not there. Yes, I recalled the evening before when he'd fucked me in the shower. That fact was reinforced by my soreness and I guessed my vaginal area had been bruised in the process. I was dreading having to discuss the "entire story" and reasoned he would be back to listen to my explanation. There was no note conveniently left on the little round table. I was frightened as I realized ""making things right" was not going to be easy and a "rough fuck" did not constitute make-up sex. Then I thought he might have left me a text message and quickly retrieved my cell phone only to learn my battery had died. "Shit!" I quickly got the wall charger out of my bag, plugged in the phone, and hit the "on" button. As the phone came to life it "dinged" several times letting me know I did have messages. Relieved and fearful I opened Eric's text. "Claudia, I am sorry for being rough last night. I scared myself and realize now that my anger, my fear and hurt, won't magically disappear because we love each other. And I do love you! Yet I need to know there have been no other men in your life, at least since, James? I will see you at home. L, Eric" After a quick shower I left Bishop and made the lonely drive over the Sierra Nevada Range. The Bay Area would be considerably cooler and, for now, I hoped Eric and I could find a way to reconcile the seven-year-old damage. If we survived, and I needed to be as optimistic as possible, I made a pledge to never again hide anything from the man I loved! Finis