Frankly My Dear

"I think the children will understand. I think they know what kind of a life I have been living lately. I think they will understand," I said, trying to convince myself.

"You know my feelings about marriage," he said.

"Yes ... I don't care. It isn't important. If I'm with you, that will be enough. If you don't want to marry me, that's one thing. If you don't want to be with me, that's something else again," I said seriously.

"I want to be with you, Sarah. I want to be with you forever." I was sure he meant it. I had to be sure about myself.

"Michael, Michael, I love you. I want to be with you ... always," I beseeched. "Please don't think badly of me. I'm risking everything for you. I have broken my marriage vows for you. I have given my soul to you. This isn't about me, it's about us!" I pleaded.

"Sarah, ... I ... I could never ... I could never give you up. I'm lost to you now. You have possessed me as no one has ever done," he confessed.

In the days that followed, I made no effort to hide my disdain for my husband and his attitude. He didn't "get it" and he probably never would. I found myself criticizing him at every turn. It seemed so easy to let go of the frustration and anger of the past few years.

Finally, Tom had enough. He issued his ultimatum. Ninety days indeed. I had endured years of his arrogance and insensitivity, and he thought it would all be solved in ninety days. I couldn't wait for him to leave. I put on the angry, bewildered, worried act. I knew Tom too well. He would do as he said, and I was sure he would do it as far from home as he could.

I had discovered almost immediately that he had decided to hole-up at his club. That was too close for comfort, so I left a message for him. I noticed he quickly moved along. It didn't take too much pestering of Renee to find out he'd left the country and didn't want to be found. Perfect!

The next three months were the best in memory. Michael and I sailed all over that spring and summer. I would stop in at home once or twice a week to clear out the mail, pay the bills and make the neighbors think I was still around. The landscape service looked after the lawns and hedges and I put a stop order in on the newspaper until the week before Tom was scheduled to return. As far as anyone was concerned, I was still living at home.

I treated myself to some nice meals just to let Tom know I was out and about, but not running up big bills. I was sure he would be watching the accounts via the internet. I wasn't computer literate, so there was no point in my trying to fool him. Better just to keep things on an even keel. Business as usual, or so he would think.

In the meantime, Michael and I sailed the coastal seas in his lovely boat. He even taught me quite a bit about sailing and I became at least a useful deckhand. I loved the quiet of the sailboat and the smell of the sea. I had to be careful to apply sunscreen and skin lotions to avoid getting burnt or wrinkled with all the weather exposure. That would be a clear tip-off to Tom that something was up. In the meantime, I was becoming quite fit and healthy with all the exercise, both day and night.

Michael never tired of my body and I never tired of giving it to him. We feasted on each other. I hated to see the three months come to an end, but August was approaching and it would mean that I would have to go back to my other life, at least for a while. Tom would be expecting a decision.

I had been seeing Dr. Bartholomew as part of my menopause therapy. The fact that I had no such problem was never an issue. The good doctor was happy to take my money and treat me for a condition which was totally fictional. If he knew or suspected, he didn't say a thing. Moreover, when he asked me about my husband, I let loose with all my dissatisfaction and frustration. I wanted him to truly believe that Tom Lufton was an arrogant S.O.B. I even suggested to the doctor that he meet with Tom and form his own opinion. Again, he was happy to agree.

What caused me to pause was something that Dr. Mitchell had suggested. I had heard somewhere that menopause could cause a heightened sexuality in women. I always thought it was a myth. When my new doctor suggested it, I began to understand some of the changes that had happened to me.

I was far more sexually active in the past five months than I had ever been before. I thought it was because of Michael, but in retrospect, it may also have been this menopausal reaction. Whatever the reason, I was delighted and enjoying every moment. I had never told Michael that I had all but cut off Tom from sexual activity. Michael was providing me with all I could want and more if I wanted it. He too, was an active sexual animal.

When Tom returned, I played the contrite, concerned wife who worried about the loss of her husband's love. I told him of my change in doctors and my therapy. I explained my tan and healthy appearance by claiming to have been on an exercise program. That was partly true at least. I certainly got plenty of exercise on Michael's boat and in his bed. When I suggested Dr. Bartholomew wanted to talk to him too, I saw the light in his eyes and knew he had bought the entire story.

"I met with Dr. Bartholomew today, Sarah," Tom said. I could see the look on his face and it wasn't happy. "He said he never suggested we should sleep in separate rooms. He also said he wondered if you weren't ... inventing symptoms that you didn't have. What do you have to say about that?"

"Are you calling me a liar?" I asked calmly.

"No ... no ... I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding," he said, looking completely befuddled.

"Well, I don't give a damn what that old man says he said, I know what he told me!" I said forcefully. "Just what did he tell you about my symptoms that made him think I was faking?" I asked with a demanding tone.

"Uhmmm ... he said that your symptoms didn't seem to fit any known pattern he was familiar with. He said you seemed more intent ... uhmmm ... on complaining about me."

"Well, he can go to hell. I've had enough of this. First you and now the damn doctors." I was almost shouting. I wondered if I had overplayed my hand.

I saw the look on Tom's face and I could see what he was thinking. He thought it was happening all over again, just like it had before he left. My contrite act hadn't lasted very long. I'm sure he was bewildered and uncertain what had happened to set me off again. It was all I could do not to smile. The look on his face was priceless.

Tom said nothing, but I saw the slump in his shoulders and I knew what it meant. He was defeated and he knew it. It was only a question of how he would handle himself, I thought.

He walked to his study and closed the door behind him. It was just a matter of time before I would hear of his decision. Tom was like that. Think about the problem, decide, and then act. He was that predictable. I went to our bedroom and sat in my little alcove. I had no appetite and no interest in preparing a meal at that point.

As I sat there, I thought about my future. Whatever Tom would decide, I knew our marriage was over. If he tried to excuse my behavior, I would simply ask for a divorce. If he refused, I would file on my own, citing irreconcilable differences. It was certainly an accurate description.

I went downstairs about eight that evening and I noticed that Tom wasn't anywhere in the house. I looked in the garage and out front. His car was nowhere to been seen. I scrounged around in the refrigerator and found some salad and enough ham for a sandwich. I poured myself a gin and tonic and sat at the kitchen table with my feast.

I was worn out from my little playacting earlier. Somehow, it hadn't been very satisfying. I didn't have any sense of victory in my nasty little plot. That it worked was more a product of Tom's predictability than my cleverness.

I wondered if Michael would tire of me. I wondered if the reason he never married was that he didn't want to be committed to someone for the rest of his life. Why was I having these thoughts now? Wasn't this a better conversation to have had with myself before I got involved with him and undermined my marriage?

I tossed and turned in bed that night. I got very little sleep. I was imagining what Tom would say or do. I was also feeling guilty. Did he really deserve this? Was he really so insensitive and arrogant that he should be provoked this way? I simply couldn't decide.

The next morning, Tom was nowhere to be found. He had obviously been home since there was evidence of his breakfast in the sink, but he must have left much earlier than normal. I shouldn't have been surprised. Why would he want to go through "that" again?

Tom never returned. I called his office and Renee told me he was out of town on business. I had no idea if that was the truth or not. It all came clear when the doorbell rang the next day and a man handed me an envelope and told me that I had been served. I opened the envelope and pulled out the papers. I knew what they were before I read them. A petition for divorce.

I had gained my objective. Why didn't I celebrate? What made this less than satisfying? I had Michael all to myself now. Why didn't I feel that I had won? I knew the answer of course. I had pushed Tom into this state. I had manipulated him into this course of action. As unpleasant as he could be, did he deserve this?

I sat in my chair in the living room and let my thoughts run rampant. I should have been delighted. I should have been celebrating with Michael. I hadn't even told him. What did that mean? Had I made a horrible mistake? Only time would tell.

Epilogue, Tom:

I sat comfortably in the large recliner in Monique Dollard's lovely living room. It had been six months since I separated from Sarah, and I had been sexually quite active. Monique was just another in the long line of women who were anxious to capture a wealthy, virile man.

My divorce would be final in a few days and I could plot my own course. I am relieved that the ordeal will be over. I am enjoying my freedom, especially my sexual freedom. I'm slightly surprised that so many women want to be with me. Of course, I know that they might have designs on my money and lifestyle. On the other hand, I'm in no hurry to remarry. I'm just as happy to sample the merchandise.

My children had commiserated with me over the divorce, but they were always closer to their mother. I wasn't surprised and neither was I disappointed. I understood. Despite her perfidy, they loved her unconditionally and that was fine.

I am in the last phase of selling my business. It will make me even richer than I had imagined. The closing date of the sale will be the day after the divorce is final.

I wondered what will happen to Sarah. Apparently, her lover sailed away without even saying goodbye to her. Oh yes, I knew about Michael. Renee learned of Sarah's affair when my wife confessed to her shortly after I had moved out. I was surprised that Renee and Sarah had been keeping in touch. I was very upset with Sarah that she had cheated on me.

Sarah won't have to worry, of course. The divorce settlement will see her though for the rest of her life unless she is extremely careless. She is still a beautiful woman and will attract men easily. On the other hand, her nature is such that she might just drive them away as well.

Monique arrived in the room right on time and I took the time to admire her beauty and elegant dress. She was a middle-aged man's fantasy. Big tits, big hips, big smile and a big appetite. I wondered if I would tire of her in two or three weeks as I had with most of the others. No matter, there were more where she came from.

Epilogue, Sarah:

I stood on the dock, dumbfounded. There was no boat where Michael's berth had been. Perhaps he had taken it around to the boatyard for some repairs? I rushed up to the office at the entrance to the dock. They said Michael had paid his bill to the end of the month and left. They didn't know where he had gone or if he would return.

My worst fears were confirmed. He was gone. Not eight months after we had begun our affair, he left. No note, no phone call, no warning ... nothing. He just left. I felt like my stomach had fallen through the bottom of my body. I was dizzy, uncoordinated, a thousand thoughts passing through my mind at one time.

And so I went home. Home to an empty house. Tom had left three months ago and I had not seen or heard from him other than through my lawyer via his lawyer. He had provided a generous settlement and I was in no mood to fight the divorce. I was too anxious to begin my new life with Michael. That new life had disappeared in an instant.

What caused him to run? Did he have second thoughts about us? Did I do something to drive him away that I wasn't even aware of? Was our affair a fraud to begin with? I would have plenty of time to consider those questions in the future.

I had already decided to sell the house, and Michael's disappearance wouldn't change that. I can't live here any more. Too many memories, good and bad. It is like living in a tomb. Alone with no one around but cleaning and gardening staff. I've already called a friend in the local real estate office. I even thought about obtaining a license and working for their firm. I needed something to occupy my time. Having a job isn't essential for my survival, only for my sanity.

I had traded arrogance for loneliness. Did I deserve my fate? Probably. I had cheated and conspired to alienate my husband. Regardless of my frustrations and his shortcomings, I had created my own purgatory. It would be up to me to claw my way out.

If I were to ask Tom what he thought about all this, I'm sure his answer would be: "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."