76 comments/ 32081 views/ 21 favorites If a Tree Falls in a Forest... By: amischiefmaker It has been variously described as a philosophical thought experiment, ethical conundrum, and nightmare job interview question. "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?" An offshoot of that question had real world significance to me. ****************** In many ways I won the gene lottery when I was born. I'm not the type to believe that I hit a triple when I was born on third base. However, I do believe that I have also worked hard. The lucky part - I'm six four, 240 pounds, have an IQ significantly above that of the average college graduate, have a naturally upbeat personality, and am decent looking. Also my parents are wealthy, and I never was significantly deprived of material things when growing up. The hard work part - I'm industrious, work out regularly including getting a black belt in Brazilian jujitsu, and make a point of treating everyone with respect, especially females. I'm also very independent and think for myself; I'm a true non-conformist. I don't know whether that falls into either the gene or hard work category. Even though out of High School I was offered several Division I football scholarships (including from the defending NCAA champion) as a tight end I went to a Division III school in the eastern U. S. with one of the best academic reputations in the country (regardless of athletic division) where sports scholarships are forbidden. I had carefully consulted with the head coach ahead of time and made it clear that I would play football as long as I didn't have to participate in spring practice and if there was anything that even smelled of a conflict with academics that academics would take precedent. He readily agreed because Division III schools rarely get Division I talent and their passing offense was perfectly suited for my abilities. I had a normal college experience for two and 1/2 years, although it was a little higher profile than average not only because of my place on the football team (and Division III All-American honors) but because of the unusual arrangement that I had with the head coach. I didn't have any really bad nights since I didn't drink alcohol (and still don't). I had an average number of sexual experiences, a few romantic relationships that lasted a few months each none of which ended acrimoniously, and universally good experiences in the classroom. After a very successful football season concluded my junior year our head coach got his dream job with a Division I school and left. The new head coach who was hired, from outside the school, didn't like the arrangement that I had with the previous head coach. He assumed that he could play hardball with me because there was no way that I would quit the team in view of the success that the team, and me personally, had had. He was wrong. A lot of people got pissed at me when I quit the team. The way that the coach, some administrators at the school, some teammates, and I handled my quitting (I don't want to relive it by telling the details) made the national press. That included an appearance that I made on the Today Show. Ultimately, I didn't give a flying fuck - like I said, I'm independent; but the entire thing ended up in a lawsuit. Thankfully I was just a witness and not a party. Now to the relevant part of my tale. **************** During new student week at the start of my senior year a junior transfer student from UCLA caused a major stir. Her name was Brittany Swift. She was five foot ten with killer thighs, a spectacularly beautiful face, natural strawberry blond hair, a naturally sexy voice, a sultry look, and massive natural boobs. She also had a friendly, upbeat personality, and was the type of person who was nice to everyone, including students not befriended by many people. She was a Kate Upton clone before anyone knew who Kate Upton was. Every guy - including most of the male professors and administrators - on campus wanted to date her. Every woman on campus wanted to be her. The first time that I saw her I thought that a movie star or supermodel was visiting campus, including because she looked too sophisticated to be a college student. Her appearance and demeanor took my breath away. I never even considered the possibility that she would ever be romantically interested in me, and our majors were different so we didn't come into contact very much. Therefore I was completely shocked when about a month into the first semester that she was on campus, as I was just getting ready to leave a booth in the Student Union to go back to my off-campus apartment since classes were done for the day, she sat down across from me. "Hi, I'm Brittany; mind if we chat a bit Kevin? I've been on campus almost a month and you've never approached me and I was getting tired of waiting." It was like a sultry tropical breeze had just blown into the otherwise dank surroundings. I couldn't even talk for a few seconds. "You know my name, Brittany?" was my clearly insipid response. "Sure. Isn't the ex-All American football player, Today Show luminary, and lawsuit star witness Kevin Hardy the most famous person on campus?" she chortled, followed by a smile like the Mona Lisa's. I took a breath, composed myself, and then finally got my brain working. "Maybe - until you arrived in town anyway," I replied with my own chortle and enigmatic smile. "Touché," she laughed. "What brought you to our cold climate from sunny SoCal?" "I wanted to meet you," she nonchalantly replied without cracking a smile. "No, why, really?" "Is that impossible to believe?" I never lacked candor, so I responded "Actually, yes. There is no reason for a walking wet-dream to move three quarters of the way across the country for some minor local celebrity. Someone with your looks could tear up Hollywood - there's no reason to waste your time with a basically ordinary Joe like me." "You're not ordinary, but I am disappointed that you're shallow enough to judge me just on my looks, Mr. Minor Local Celebrity." "Well, I don't really know you so how you look is what I have to go one. Although I will admit that anyone who I've been around who has mentioned you - and that's essentially everyone I've talked to on campus in the last month," I said with a grin; that got a chuckle from her. "Everyone who's met you says that you're as charming, pleasant, and fun as you are beautiful and they can't all be wrong." "You should find out for yourself. Why don't you pick me up Friday night at 7:00 p. m. and take me to the town's community theater showing of The Glass Menagerie. I have two tickets so you just need to buy me coffee and dessert afterwards. Here's my address," she said, sliding a piece of paper over to me. I was stunned. With a smile I replied "You're pretty self-confident, aren't you?" "Maybe," she laughed. She didn't really giggle - she was too sophisticated for that. "Or maybe I just know that you're a sucker for Tennessee Williams and would never pass up a freebie." "How in the fuck did she know that?" I asked myself, probably while staring at her slack-jawed. I never really said "yes" before she got up and took off, her consummate ass hypnotizing every set of eyes in the Student Union as she sashayed away. Of course I never gave any serious consideration to not going. I believe more in "don't look a gift horse in the mouth" than "beware of Greeks bearing gifts." Brittany was ready when I arrived three minutes early - it would have been fifteen minutes I was so excited, but I sat in the car for twelve minutes drumming the steering wheel. Consistent with what I had heard about her, she cheerily introduced me to her very, very plain apartment mates and gave them each a hug before we left. We had a stimulating conversation on the way to the play, a very pleasant time there once I got enough self-control to concentrate on the play and not look at her boobs or thighs, and an even more stimulating conversation in a local café afterwards. There was a major drawback. Everywhere we went people were staring at us - actually probably just her, or wondering why a supermodel was with a dumb jock. She didn't even seem to notice, probably because she was used to it. I sure did. She was fun to be with, and everything that I had heard about how charming she was seemed to be verified in spades. By the time that I took her home, about midnight, I felt that I had known her a long time. As I stopped the car in front of her apartment building the question that I had asked her when we first met, and that I had been afraid to ask again, popped into my so-called brain. "Why did you really transfer here from UCLA?" "I already answered that question; in time you'll believe my answer," was her quick reply, and after only a short pause that was followed by: "So when are you picking me up tomorrow?" "Uh,...I didn't know that we had plans..." I stuttered. "Of course we do. I treated you tonight, you'll treat me tomorrow. How does noon sound? We can even go to the football game if you're not afraid of being booed out of the stadium," she chuckled. "Uh, OK - noon it is," I smiled. Since this was my best first date ever how could I object? "Let's say goodnight here instead of at my door," she said. "I don't want my roommates to get jealous." With that she put her hand on my neck and pulled my face toward her's and gave me the most passionate kiss I've ever had. By the time that she broke away my cock was trying to burst my zipper. She glanced down at my tented pants and matter-of-factly said "I'll take care of that next weekend." Then she smiled, exited my car, and walked up to her apartment without even a glance back. I spontaneously came in my pants. I had never been in the company of a real life goddess before, so my spontaneous ejaculation was a first for me. We did go to the football game. The fans were too busy gawking at Brittany to boo me - plus many considered me a hero in view of what happened in the court case. Then we rode bikes along the river, had dinner at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and rode our bikes back home. We parted with another soul-searching kiss. I thought that I was in love after that first weekend. After the next weekend I knew that I was. Strongly encouraged by Brittany, we went to a frat party that she had been invited to the next Friday night (she was always invited to every party on campus). Brittany looked even more fabulous than usual. She made a very strange statement on the way over, however. "Just so you know, Kevin, I'm your woman tonight. I don't expect you to let anyone get gross or fresh with me. That sometimes happens at parties, but I expect you to prevent it. Is that too much to ask?" The question was asked while she stroked my thigh and bored a hole through my head with her sparkling azure eyes. "Hell no; definitely not too much to ask," I quickly retorted. We had a good time dancing at the party, and talking to guys who had dates, as well as their dates. As more people started to get drunk, however, things started to get a little out of hand. I wasn't drinking at all, and Brittany just had a couple of glasses of cheap wine. At a lull in the music I excused myself from the area we were standing at and went to the head. When I returned from the head Brittany was a good thirty feet away from where I had left her. There were two guys sniffing around her. I knew the jerks - Jack, an ex-defensive tackle, and Bret, an ex-linebacker. They had been kicked off the football team during the festivities surrounding the lawsuit the previous spring (which I still decline to tell you about). Both had animosity toward me, in addition to prurient interest in Brittany. As I approached Brittany saw me and said to the guys - in what I thought was a respectful manner - "Sorry, guys, my date is back," and then she started walking toward me. Jack grabbed her arm and said "Not so fast, bitch." I never hit someone so hard in my life. If I had hit Jack in the jaw he would have been sipping out of a straw for months. Instead, I hit him in his side, and later found out that I cracked three of his ribs when I knocked him flat. Bret, fueled by alcohol, said "Fuck you, Hardy - she was prick teasing us," as he pushed me on the chest. Using one of my favorite jujitsu moves I pinned one of his hands to my chest with both my hands, and then dropped to a knee and leaned forward, snapping his wrist. Fortunately, both guys were not members of the fraternity, and in fact hadn't even been invited, so no one seemed pissed that I had disabled them. Actually, one girl, who was herself plastered, kicked them both in the nuts as they rolled around in pain on the beer-soaked floor, as she yelled "That's for harassing me, asshole," with each kick before she was finally pulled away by a couple of the frat brothers. Brittany snuggled up to me, grabbed one of my biceps with both hands, and said "Thanks, Kevin. Although you reacted just the way that I expected based on your profile, I really appreciate it." "What the fuck?" ran through my mind, "What profile?" I probably would have said something to her, but before I could she kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear "Let's go to your apartment - NOW!" With that she pulled me toward the door; I was amazed at how strong she was. Infinitely more amazing was what she did just before we exited the car at my apartment building. She shoved an STD-free test report dated a few days earlier into my face. "No condoms tonight," she barked as she pointed out the long list of "Negatives" next to everything from herpes, to syphilis to chlamydia. At the time it never crossed my mind to ask "Why do you have an STD test results document?" Fortunately I had no roommates, because she had me almost naked within ten seconds of when the door closed shut. Once we both were naked another somewhat strange statement came out of her mouth. "God, I hope that you're a great fuck," she mumbled between passionate kisses as she simultaneously stroked my rock hard cock. Her bare boobs were otherworldly. "Suck these puppies," she growled at one point when she held one of her enormous tits with puffy nipples and stuck it in my face. I didn't need to be told twice. As she played with my balls I feverishly sucked those monsters with her constant encouragement, "Oh fuck, yeah, that feels good." When I was afraid I was going to bust a nut due to her ball-handling abilities, I pushed her down onto the couch in my living area, then went after her pussy. It was hairless except for a landing strip, with thick labia and a prominent distended clit. She was soaking wet. I was pleased when she quickly orgasmed in response to my tongue and finger work on her honey pot and clit. Once she did she grabbed me by the hair, lifted up my head and snarled "Fuck me, you bastard!" She lined up my cock with her snatch, then wrapped those killer thighs around me and drew me in. It was like heaven; her vagina was unbelievably snug for someone five ten, and had optimal heat and wetness. Plus, she could squeeze and release my cock with her pc muscles. With her arms around my neck and me on my knees we fucked zealously. I couldn't hold out for long - and fortunately that didn't minimize her enjoyment, because she orgasmed a second time shortly after I deposited a monster load in her pussy. We were so energetic that we both had sweat like pigs. Once we recovered from our animal fuck we retired to my bed. We made love, fucked again, and made love once more, before we dragged our asses out of bed at ten o'clock the next morning. Sex with Brittany was other-worldly. Comparing her to other women that I had had sex with would be like comparing Lebron James to a High School kid. My brain was awash with so many endorphins that I was in a stupor until Monday morning. When I picked her up at her apartment and we went out for breakfast before classes on Monday my feet were barely touching the ground I was so exultant. Just after she seductively put a fork-full of a bacon-mushroom omelet into my mouth at breakfast she said "You need to hear my Plan, Kevin. We need all Saturday afternoon to discuss it. I'll fuck you senseless Friday night and Saturday morning, but I need your undivided attention all Saturday afternoon. Understand?" The question was asked as she teased me with another forkful of omelet. "Yes, Goddess Aphrodite," I snickered, causing her to stick the omelet on my nose instead of my mouth, as she erupted with peals of laughter. I do believe that the sex that Friday was even better than the first time. I can't really be sure, however, because I was rendered comatose for a significant part of the time after she almost ripped my dick off fucking me reverse cowgirl. Anyway, my bizarre encounter with the walking wet-dream that called herself Brittany Swift got even stranger Saturday afternoon. We strolled along a park path Saturday until we got to a secluded bench in the autumn afternoon sunlight. I put my windbreaker over her shoulders because she was just dressed in a sundress and even in the sunshine it was a little cool. "Kevin, I hope that by now you realize that the reason that I transferred here was to meet you. If not, you're really dense and we need to call it quits. Get it?" "Uh,...sure, Brittany," I said to placate her, but not really believing it. "OK; first, here's the private detective's report vetting you," she said as she pulled what appeared to be a fifty page document in a bright blue binder out of a small valise that she was carrying. "Look it over, and let me know if anything is manifestly incorrect." "You're kidding," I instinctively said as I took the binder from her hands. "Look at it first and then tell me if I'm kidding," she said with a straight face. She wasn't kidding. For the next half hour or so I read about my and my family's lives, although 90% was about me not the rest of my family. It was in such detail that it even had a copy of my college transcript, the names of the Division I schools that had given me scholarship offers, my black belt certification, and interviews with ex-girlfriends. There was even an estimate of my parent's wealth, although I had no way of knowing if it was correct because they never discussed finances with me. In particularly great detail was the entire scenario surrounding my quitting football and the ensuing lawsuit including a reference to a website that had a video of my complete deposition testimony, and also a video of my appearance on the Today Show. "Where did you get this?" I asked about halfway through the document after I noticed that the name and address of the PI firm on the front of the folder had been redacted. "Not important," was her flippant reply. "Who paid for it?" "My guardian." When finished I simply said "WOW!" as I handed it back to her. "You can keep it," she retorted, "I have another copy. So, is there anything major that is wrong?" "Nothing major," I mumbled, still completely stunned. The endorphins still in control of my brain after the last night's fuck fest made it hard to know exactly how to react. "OK; now, Kevin, let me reveal my Plan to you. Obviously, you're in complete control and can nix the whole thing. If you do, after this semester I'll transfer back to UCLA and we'll never see each other again. If you do go along with the Plan, I'll make you the most contented man in history." The "Plan" set forth when we would get married - two months after I graduated - what city we would live in, and that Brittany would work for a company called Besson Realty until she turned twenty nine. We would try to start a family the night of her twenty ninth birthday. If it all worked out we'd have three kids, and she would be a stay-at-home Mom although she would be involved in charity work. We would belong to a certain country club, we would travel to designated places around the country and the world taking two ten day vacations each year, and we would make every effort to establish college funds for our kids before they turned eighteen. If a Tree Falls in a Forest... She had graphs, photographs, brochures, and maps; it was like the most complete business presentation in history. I sat like an automaton just nodding my head. She would occasionally ask me questions just to be sure that I was listening, or if she thought that something wasn't clear she would go over it again. One question I did ask. "Are you sure that we can make enough money to execute your entire Plan?" "Certainly. I'll make big bucks at Besson Realty because I'm really good at my job, and you'll be a star. By the time that you're twenty six you'll be making more money that I will be. Plus, your parents will love me because I'll treat them like my own parents, and if we ever need any financial help they'll provide it," she matter-of-factly responded. I shrugged my shoulders. When Brittany finished she collected all of her documents, put them back into her valise, and then said, "After the last day of finals this semester, you need to decide if you want to execute my Plan. If you don't, we'll part friends. If you do, you'll be the envy of every male in the world and never regret your decision. Until then I'll never bring it up again, however, you can ask questions whenever you want." I was astonished; all that I could mumble out was "OK." "So, Kevin, tonight do you want to go dancing first and fuck later, or just fuck? I'd prefer a night of just pure sex, especially since you haven't found all of my erogenous zones, or fucked my tits yet; but the choice is yours." "Tough choice," I laughed to myself. **************** By Sunday afternoon I had found all of Brittany's erogenous zones, and had fucked her tits. The titty fuck was better than any vaginal fuck that I had ever had with any other woman! By a mile! Over the rest of the semester we bonded. Our "routine," if you could call having a great time and mind-blowing sex a "routine," was to have lunch together Monday and Friday, study together when not in class on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, go to a party or cultural event on Friday night, go on an outing on Saturday during the day, and study together Sunday. She slept at my apartment Friday-Sunday nights, and there wasn't a night that we slept together that we didn't have sex at least twice. She was, unequivocally, a sex goddess. I had a permanent smile on my face. Wednesday afternoon and most of the day Thursday she had a part time job with Besson Realty LLC, the same company that she expected to work for after we got married. She was helping them set up an office in the eastern part of the U S. Two Saturday nights she also had some sort of commitment with that job so those days I didn't see her from Saturday morning until Sunday afternoon. Her only - tangential - mention of the "Plan" was in response to times when I would tell her "I love you." She would get a diabolical grin and retort "I'll let you know how I feel about you once I hear your decision at the end of the semester," followed by a passionate kiss. Of course spending all of that time with Brittany allowed me to find out everything about her background. Her parents died when she was fifteen, and even while they were still alive things were fairly rough for her since her family was poor and her living conditions bad; she said that she never felt safe. A non-relative guardian named John Besson and his wife Camille - the owners of Besson Realty - looked out for her since she was fifteen years old. They were also paying her college expenses. She developed a strong sense of herself by dealing with the types of things that naturally occurred to someone with her background, and vowed never to be poor or not feel safe again. I came to believe - as preposterous as it first seemed - that she probably had sought me out because of my independence, physical strength, wealthy parents, and prospects for success in life. I still didn't really understand it, though, since she could have latched on to almost anyone that she wanted to; however, by the time that we had been together about two months I stopped trying to understand it and just went with the flow. ****************** Before finals week started I bought an engagement ring, talked to my parents and asked if I could bring Brittany home for semester break to meet them, and planned a romantic evening the night after the last exam. As we ate dinner at the fanciest restaurant in our small city, in a booth near the back where almost no one but the employees could see us, I observed a constant expectant look on her face. Every time that she tried to turn the conversation toward the Plan I changed the subject, causing her great angst. Finally she grabbed me by my tie and pulled my face down toward some creamy foo-foo dessert that had just been placed in front of me. "Do you agree to the Plan or not, you bastard?" she snarled. I got a big grin on my face, frantically waved at the waiter, and replied "If you let go I promise to tell you within thirty seconds." She growled, released my tie, and then sat back in her chair with her arms folded. The violinist and accordion player that wandered throughout the restaurant, led by the waiter, came rushing to our table. As they sang and played the perfect marriage proposal song, "I Swear" by All4One, I pulled the engagement ring out of my pocket. I kneelt down and asked "Brittany will you make me the happiest man in the world and agree to marry me?" For the first time since I had known her she blushed; then smiled; then held out her left hand. I put the ring on her finger and she said "Yes; I think that I will; pursuant to my Plan, of course." The last statement was made with a twinkle in her eye. We kissed; the musicians finished the piece, I shook each of their hands, and sat back down. As we almost wordlessly ate our desserts my right hand held her left playing with the ring on her finger, and she stared intensely into my eyes. When we were almost finished she mumbled "That is I'll marry you if I don't fuck you to death tonight. Let's get out of here." I had pre-paid the bill and tip for the waiter and musicians so we got up and left. As soon as my apartment door closed behind us she growled "You just made the best decision of your life." Our clothes came off quickly, she pinned me to the mattress pleasuring me all over with her mouth, hands, and even feet, and once I was begging to fuck her she mounted me cowgirl. She then proceeded to periodically switch between cowgirl and reverse cowgirl without my cock ever leaving her cunt. I exploded in her when in the reverse cowgirl position she massaged my balls and pulsated her pussy while I fingered her pucker hole. After we regained our senses she cuddled up to me and said "Oh; by the way; I DO really love you Kevin." ***************** My parents were first flabbergasted by, then loved, Brittany. She instantly bonded with my Mom. My Dad and brother drooled and were jealous of me. My brother sincerely asked "How in the hell did you pull it off?" We had a small wedding paid for by the Bessons, although my parents threw lavish engagement and rehearsal dinner events. Brittany had to be the most beautiful bride in the world. By the time of the wedding my parents looked upon her as the daughter that they never had. The wedding was the only time that I met the Bessons. Their relationship with Brittany seemed a little strange to me. They treated her more like a friend than their ward. The honeymoon - also paid for by my parents - was beyond fantastic. ***************** It was hard to believe, but the Plan was executed basically as written. There were some kinks of course, some surprises, and some really bizarre scenarios. One thing that was for sure, however, was that Brittany was true to her word - she made me the happiest guy in history. Brittany never refused sex, and every sexual encounter with her was totally beyond the pale. She was always sultry and exciting; she was unfailingly compassionate and loving; and she never missed saying "I love you" at least once every day. Of course we had disagreements - we were human - but she was never unreasonable, had a knack for diffusing situations before they got serious, and knew all of my right buttons to push to make me reasonable. While we maintained our independent streaks in dealing with others, we both were more than willing to compromise with each other. Especially when I was starting out, having Brittany as my wife was also a fantastic boon to my career. Because I was in public relations I had to do or deal with a fair amount of entertaining. Once people met my wife their opinion of me skyrocketed - in everyone's mind I had to really have something going for me if someone as gorgeous and charming as she was would marry me. If we hosted events she was always the perfect hostess; when we attended them she was always the most considerate and appreciative guest. She was also an expert at deflecting the unwanted advances she often received, especially at events where much alcohol was consumed. Only a half a dozen times was she not able to easily handle the situation. In those cases she would hit a button on her cell phone which gave a distinctive ring on mine, and I would quickly locate her. When I arrived she would grab my bicep and stare at the jerk who was hitting on her and say - "Would you like to repeat to my husband Kevin what you just said to me, asshole?" Only one guy didn't turn red and scurry away; the one who didn't I dispatched of so quickly that it looked like he had passed out and that I was being a Good Samaritan by carrying him to the lobby. Also, she was really good at her job and made almost as much money as I did. In fact the first two years of marriage her W-2s put mine to shame. The company that she worked for, Besson Realty LLC, owned by her guardian John Besson, and his wife Camille, though small, seemed to be a first class organization. They were not a conventional real estate agency; they didn't get commissions on selling and closing on properties. Rather they set up real estate deals with people and organizations across the country, and got their commissions on consultations and deal making. There was some travel involved for Brittany, but she was never gone for more than two nights at a time. Also, she was home to make dinner every day that she was in town unless we were going out that night. She also found time to work out many afternoons, and would come home smelling sweet and fresh from her shower and douche at the health club after her workout. Being with her co-workers was also a treat. The three other agents that worked in her office (John Besson worked primarily on the west coast), Diane, Ashley and Liz, were almost as beautiful and charming as Brittany is. The two husbands, Tom and Sterling, and the steady boyfriend, Chris, of the other three agents felt the same way that I did - luckiest guys in the world! Besson Realty's small office was also the neatest and cleanest that I had ever seen. Brittany said that they had a rule about no more than three pieces of paper on a desk at a time, and the times that I was there I never saw more than one. By the time that Brittany turned twenty nine we had saved enough money, and my career was moving along well enough, that we were not likely to have money problems in the future, and could pay for three kids to go to college. Therefore, pursuant to the Plan, Brittany stopped working for Besson Realty once she was two months pregnant with our first child. Not surprisingly, with our first two kids, a boy who looked like my clone when I was his age, and a girl who looked like Brittany only with my mother's nose, born two and a half years apart, she was the perfect mother. Brittany was always attentive, but never hovering or smothering. All of our kids' friends loved to come to our house, and Brittany treated them like her own. Also not surprising, Brittany regained her pre-child weight and almost her pre-child muscle tone within five months after she delivered each child, while breast feeding both of them. Most people could not believe that when she was thirty seven she was the mother of two - she still looked like a twenty two year old Miss America. ********************* The relevance of the first paragraph of this story came into significance about the time that Brittany and I were talking about having our third kid. We were both all for it; we just wanted the timing to be right. We had recently gotten some bad news when we heard that Diane - one of Brittany's former co-workers - and her husband Tom were divorcing. I had always liked Diane (who we had remained friendly with even after Brittany quit) and kind of liked Tom - and thought that they were compatible. I was a little surprised when Tom called me and offered to take me to lunch before he moved to Europe. At Tom's request we went to a noisy bistro. There was enough noise so that no one could hear us but if we concentrated we could quite easily hear each other. I concentrated. After an initial change of pleasantries, quick service of the lunch special, and my opening about the divorce, between bites Tom got to the point. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Diane splitting up and you moving to get away," I said. "I always thought that you two were compatible." "We were for a long time. However, unlike Brittany, she still works at Besson Realty and I told her that our only chance of making it was for her to quit immediately." "Why? Is she being treated badly there?" He looked at me funny. "No; I won't share her. I don't know how you were able to handle it with Brittany when she worked there, but I can't." I stopped with my fork halfway to my mouth. "What?" Tom got a weird look on his face. "You don't know that Besson Realty is an uber-call girl business?" "What the fuck? What does that even mean?" "That means that they have the classiest call girls in the country; they make the most per encounter of anyone, because they are the best looking and sexiest women in the business," he replied. I dropped my fork and was quickly losing my appetite. "Did you ever wonder how Brittany made so much money yet didn't seem to work that many hours? How she was always clean and fresh when she came home from work?" "She worked out and showered at the Health Club," I blurted out. "Probably many days she did. Others, her workout was very likely not at the Health Club but at a condo that Besson Realty owns." "Do you have any proof of that?" I angrily queried, now really troubled. "I have to admit that it is mostly circumstantial evidence - Diane certainly hasn't admitted it - but there is a lot of circumstantial evidence. However, what precipitated my concern was a friend of mine seeing Diane at a party with another guy when she was out of town on one of her business trips." "Maybe it was just business." "My friend was sure that in fact it was business - but not real estate business. The cell phone photos he took confirmed it in my mind." It was clear that Tom was now uncomfortable because of the steam coming out of my ears. In fact, I think that he was regretting the lunch, and seemed to be wary that I might punch him out. I got up from the table, my lunch less than half eaten. "Thanks for the food," I mumbled. "Have a great life in Europe;" then I stormed out. My mind was muddled. I was worthless at work the rest of the day so I knocked off early and took a walk in a park. I had no clue what I was going to say to Brittany when I got home. Was she really an uber call girl the entire time that I had known her until she quit Besson Realty? Was Besson just a clever businessman who could get payments for sex to look like consulting fees for real estate transactions, and with the gall to actually issue W-2s and have a retirement plan? What I did know for sure was that I couldn't let it fester - we never had with any other issue. Of course this issue was infinitely larger than any other issue that Brittany and I had addressed in the past. I tried to act naturally that night; I mostly played with the kids and tried to engage Brittany as little as possible while still doing enough to avoid suspicion. It didn't work. Once the kids were in bed Brittany asked "What's wrong?" "Why do you think something is wrong?" "Because you're as transparent as glass...You can either tell me now or I'll hound you until you do. Your choice," she said with her arms crossed. After a long pause I decided to come clean; in increments. "I had lunch with Tom Miller today." "So," Brittany replied without emotion. "He talked about the reason that he and Diane are getting divorced." "What's the reason?" "Don't you know?" "No; I haven't talked with Diane about it. I was never crazy about Tom and I'm not sure that she'll be crying in her beer about it," she replied, again with no emotion; nor with any apprehension. I thought long and hard before saying anything else. I guess that Brittany got tired of waiting, sitting with her arms crossed, so she continued. "Is that it? You're upset because they're getting divorced - that's the totality of it?" I finally got the guts to respond. "No. He's says that he getting divorced because Besson Realty is an uber-call girl operation and he won't share her anymore." Her eyes got wide. "And you believe him?" I didn't answer. We sat staring at each other for what had to be two minutes, her face expressionless. Finally she stood up. "I'm taking the kids to your parents' house for the weekend after I pick them up from school tomorrow. You answer that question when I get back Sunday night, and if your answer is 'Yes' you tell me what you're going to do about it. I'm more pissed off than I've ever been, so I'll be sleeping in the guest room tonight to prevent us from having a conversation that neither one of us will be able to forget," she said in a calm but stern voice. Sleeping apart in the same house was a first for our fifteen plus year marriage. When I left for work the next morning, I gave the kids a big hug, told them to have fun at the grandparents' house, and that I'd see them Sunday afternoon. "You're not coming with us Daddy?" my little girl pleaded. "Sorry, Hon; I have something that I need to do this weekend. But I'll miss you soooo much," I said smothering her with kisses as she giggled. As I walked out the door Brittany gave me a peck on the cheek and then said, "One more question for you to answer this weekend regardless of your answer to the first one. If a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it, does it make a sound?" ***************** I reflected long and hard that weekend, thinking of nothing else except my possible answers to the two questions Brittany had posed. I reflected upon my perfect life, and perfect wife. I could find no flaws in Brittany as a lover, wife, and mother; none. I decided not to answer the first question because my answer to the second question posed by Brittany - as far as it related to us anyway - said it all. "No, it doesn't make a sound." **************** We had our third child three years ago, and as I write this the five of us are all really excited that we're about to embark on a dream trip to Yellowstone and Yosemite - of course just as called for by the Plan.