Hearth and Homebycarvohi©
The following story is completely a work of fiction; just another tale of a husband's woes in the face of a cheating wife. I hope you enjoy it. I want to thank Harry R for once again proofreading and editing.
Well here goes:
My name is Jeremy Armacost. Let's get the preliminary bullshit out of the way. I'm a man. I live in a man's world. I live in a free country. I read about all the crap other men go through when they find out their wives are cheating on them. We all now the litany. Oh I'm so brokenhearted! My wife doesn't think I'm good enough. Oh I think I'll just wring my hands and cry. How can I face my friends? My dick wasn't big enough? Will I ever regain my self-respect? How could she have done this to me, to our happy home? I can't bear the thought...Well shit!
I'm a thirty-seven year old ex-securities consultant and adviser for a nationally known brokerage firm. I worked out of a branch office in a medium sized city in the Middle Atlantic States; that's close enough for you. I stand a comfortable 6' 3" tall, and I weigh in at an even 200 lbs. I have light brown hair and blue eyes.
Most women find me handsome, and over the years I've taken advantage of that. I had no trouble getting dates while I was in high school and college, and since college, though married I've made it with one or two or maybe three others. I'll be clear about my infidelities; I'm no wife stealer. If I find out the woman is married I back off, and if I think my wife might know any of the women I nail, why I steer clear of them too. I like women. I like looking at their naked bodies. I like what they can do for me.
I'm pretty muscular. I lift weights. I took boxing lessons in college, and I've had a few, not many, but a few karate lessons. I seldom drink, and I never took up smoking. When I do drink I'm careful; I never get drunk. I keep in shape; most women don't want to sleep with some slack jawed pot-bellied potato chip eating doughboy. Of course I said I was married, and trust me I'm faithful in my way.
My favorite hobbies are canoeing, hunting and fishing. I do my canoeing and fishing mostly up and down the many rivers in the northeast, and I have several deer heads in the den I had built over my garage. Several of my friends and I went bear hunting in upstate Maine not long ago. I got one. I'm also a gun collector. By guns I mean all types of firearms from shotguns, to rifles to an assortment of pistols including one old World War Two German Luger. When I get a deer, I skin it, I clean it, I cut it up in steaks, and then I take the residue and make my own deer sausage.
My wife won't eat deer meat; I guess she's watched Bambi too many times. Just the same I make her help me with the skinning and the gutting. She gets her hands bloody; sometimes she gets sick. Too bad; women in the old days did it.
Don't get me wrong. I have a softer side. I like to sing and dance. In fact I've tried stand-up comedy at some of the local clubs. I play the piano and I play the violin. If you think I was a stud in college you're probably right. I guess so far I don't sound like a very sympathetic person. Well I'd like everyone to reconsider. I love my kids and I'm good to my wife. I'm very fond of my wife. Honestly, everything I do now is about my kids and my family.
Let me tell you a little about my kids. Felicity, she's the oldest, she loves to dance, and if you ask me I think she's a natural. Since mom says she doesn't like to the ferry kids around all the time I take her to all her lessons. I go to all Felicity's recitals and all the other shows the dance group she belongs to performs. You'd be surprised at how many dance companies there are, how many performances take place, and how much money it costs what with lessons, costumes, and performance fees. I don't care; if that's what Felicity likes then that's it.
Jeremy Junior, he's my son and second of our three, well he's likes soccer and lacrosse. I used to loathe soccer, but loved lacrosse. I would have preferred if he'd signed up for football. He's a muscular kid; he could've kicked some butt. Either way in the fall I'm at every soccer match and in the spring I don't miss a single lacrosse game. I even had my old stick repaired so he and I can practice up in the back yard.
Then `there's the baby, little Farrah. Farrah's still pretty much into dolls and such. I found out they have these doll houses, not the old fashioned ones you can buy that are already made up. I mean the nice ones that have to be put together and painted. I bought one of those kits and spent I bet two dozen nights hiding in my den putting the thing together and painting it all up for her for Christmas. That was one of the greatest Christmases of my life. I remember Farrah came bounding down the stairs to see what was under the tree, got halfway down, sat down on the steps and started to cry. She'd wanted a special doll house like that but she hadn't told anyone. She gulped and cried, "Look! Santa knew!" Man I cried.
So remember, for me it's about the kids. I love kids.
There is a down side. I was born into a fairly affluent family. My grandfather left me a nice trust fund upon his death. Of course I feel the need to work, but overall I'm not especially ambitious.
Of course I'm married, been married for fourteen years. My wife's name is Greta. She and I met while we were in college; the college is irrelevant. We met when she was a sophomore, and I was a senior. I graduated and immediately continued my education and got an MBA, Greta graduated a little later.
After we met, as expected, she fell madly in love with me. We got married, and went right to work building a family. Greta said she wanted six or seven kids, but we agreed to stop after three; she'd been to the doctors after Farrah and he told her she had some medical problems that apparently precluded any more pregnancies.
Right out of graduate school I landed a plum job, and went right to work. Honestly I had an inside track on the job; friends of my family helped me out. Back then I was on the fast track for advancement; unfortunately that came screeching to a halt shortly after Farrah arrived. It didn't matter at the time; even without any promotions I was making damn good money. I might as well tell everyone life was good. I had three terrific kids, a loving wife, a great job, and a trust fund to fall back on.
It was just a couple years ago my apple cart sort of got tipped over. I'd foregone the first opportunity for advancement. Mainly I passed on the first chance because Greta wanted to stay where we lived. It's in the same county where she grew up, and all her friends and family lived there. I told her it could hurt me later on, but she was adamant, she wanted to stay home.
A few months after I turned down my first chance I got a second offer. I talked it over with Greta again, and she held the same line. She was still afraid we'd have to move. Well I loved living near my family, I found it would please Greta, and I was crazy about her mom, her dad, and her two younger sisters so I turned down promotion number two. Everyone knows how that can play out; offer number two was my last chance. I was stuck where I was. I didn't care very much. My job was just a reason to get out of bed and leave the house. My real life began and ended with my kids.
Several years ago when the bottom fell out of the economy people everywhere were looking to cut back. At the company where I worked I was perceived as someone with no ambition, they were right, so down the toilet I was flushed. Big job gone I thought I'd scrounge around and find something. I did, I found something working at a local bank giving stock advice to newlyweds. The pay wasn't as good but the hours were great. Like I said I didn't care too much; it got me out of the house so I could pretend to be a professional. Actually I considered myself a professional dad more than anything else. I got Felicity her own shotgun as soon as she started the third grade. Wow, was she ever pleased.
By then Farrah was old enough to be put in day care so Greta took it upon herself to make up the lost income by finding something on her own. Heck it didn't matter if she wanted to get out a little I could find ways to get home early so none of the kids missed much. Oh, maybe there weren't any more brownies when they got home, but there never had been anyway. Greta never liked to cook.
Am I going too fast for you? We didn't need the money. I think Greta was just bored. Greta wanted to work outside the house. That was cool.
Greta has always been one hot looking babe. She was popular in college; guys chased her all over the place. She had that waifish lost little girl look. She wore pretty clothes that gave her a childlike appearance. I remember those cute little romper and jumper sets. She'd wear white button up blouses, peter pan collars and capped shoulders. She was as cute as a button; kind of a miniature, baby sized, Barbie. Yeah, I tracked her down like she was a young deer. Once I got her in my sites it was all over. Sure bet, I wasn't worried. I knew when I was ready she'd end up with me, and she did.
Greta's small; to say she's five foot two is a stretch and she weighs less than a hundred pounds. She's petite; she's got small boobs, a tight little ass, pretty green eyes, and dark brown hair.
Did I say; she's great in bed? Well she's not; she's just about the lousiest piece of ass I've ever had. I didn't marry her for the sex though; sex I can get anyplace. I married her because I liked the way she looked on my arm; she's great eye candy. OK, I married her because she had a great personality, or at least she did once, that's all kind of changed, but she'll get it back, of that I can promise.
Greta found something at an insurance company. She started out as a secretary, but with her talent for talking, her bureaucratic skills, and her beauteous personality she was soon the center of attention.
She got herself a new wardrobe that I didn't like very much. She ditched the childlike elfin look for what she thought was something more sophisticated. I think it was it was a rebellion thing; her parents and I preferred the youthful look, I think she wanted to show a little defiance. I didn't care, not really. I thought the tight skirts and over short dresses all looked stupid. It was the start of hunting season anyway.
She put in about a year as a secretary, and then bingo she got her first promotion, head of the small secretarial pool. Did I say bingo? I meant to say bang. She was on her way! In no time one thing led to another and pretty soon she was managing their claims department. She'd even been moved past older more experienced employees. In fact her last promotion led to two of their longer term employees leaving. At the time I thought it was just sour grapes that they left. At the time I also never thought anything else about it either. This was my wife after all, nobody messed with my stuff.
Other things started to change for me once I crossed into my thirties. My children had always been top priority, but as they got older and developed their own personalities what happened to them became even more important.
My sexual escapades, yes I admit it I had been a philanderer back in my younger days, came to a screeching halt. My kids needed me, and I realized Greta did too. I started to spend a lot more time cherishing and doting on my kids.
Greta might have gotten overlooked a little bit. Still she had my affection. She'd made me my babies, she was a good girl, and lately she'd found a pretty good job. She was entitled to more respect, and I gave it to her.
That's a wrong statement. Greta always got attention. Remember I cared about her. Once she started work I took an interest in everything she did at her job, and for the longest time she would spend what seemed like hours detailing every single thing that happened at her work. I paid attention too. She'd talk about new employees, trouble with the computers, the lazy mailman, I mean everything.
Yes, Greta would talk about work, new programs, and all the new rules and regulations coming out of government. She said she hated Obama care. I didn't quite get that since her company handled mostly car and home owners insurance. I guess that's what she heard so she just passed it along. What I mean I guess is she kept me informed about everything that went on in her office. I never got a word in edge-wise. Then one day it was like it all just stopped. It was like out of the blue my normally loquacious wife just shut up.
I never paid any visits to her office. I thought that was hers, and I shouldn't meddle. I trusted my wife. Oh I knew about all the people she worked with, or at least I thought I knew. Honestly I wasn't worried. I mean I cared, of course I cared; I just wasn't worried.
It was OK if she didn't want to talk about her job anymore because I preferred talking about the kids anyway. But that turned out to be another thing. Once upon a time Greta loved hearing about the kids and she loved participating in all the stuff they did. Damn, most married people know the routine, weekends and summers are always centered on what the kids were doing. Greta and I used to sit down with the calendar and pencil in all the stuff the kids would do; then we argue over who would watch what. I recall Greta used to like to take a folding chair to the lacrosse games and gossip with the other wives, and at the recitals, many of which were held in school auditoriums, Greta liked to sit with the other moms and yes, gossip some more.
Somewhere, or should I say, sometime after her second promotion Greta started losing interest in what the kids were doing. At first I never thought much of it. Then something happened that stirred my rather bland and uninspired imagination.
Shortly after Greta's second promotion her company's regional boss decided to have an outdoor barbeque. That sounded great; only problem, no kids. Well that was OK; we'd farm the kids out to her mom and dad. That done it was going to be off to the barbeque for old Jeremy and Greta.
The barbeque was at John Muldoon's house. He was the head honcho at the insurance company, and he had a big house that overlooked one of the nearby rivers. He had a small pier, a couple boats, and a small boathouse. I'd been there before, but with some of the guys I go hunting and fishing with. Muldoon had a few friends who liked to hunt and fish, and one time we used his small pier as a put in when we were canoeing and fishing. So I was fairly familiar with the lay out. Greta never knew this. I didn't think it was such a big deal to tell her anyway.
We got to the barbeque about the same time as everybody else, and honestly I had a pretty good time. I drank a couple Coors. I listened to some of the stories the other men had about what they did for a living. I laughed at all the jokes, and I tried to make sure Greta was entertained.
Entertaining Greta; that was an interesting aside; whenever we'd gone anywhere like a barbeque or a dance, or say a party she used to cling to me like a vine. Well this afternoon I hardly saw her. I didn't think much of it at first until I noticed I kept seeing her with the same guy. I'd never met him, and though I thought knew most of the people who worked where Greta did this guy didn't ring a bell.
I pulled one of the girls aside and asked her who the new boy was. She gave me this funny look; then she told me he was Greta's new boss. She explained he'd been with them about three months. She said his name was Gary Weaver, he'd been assigned to their branch office to get some needed experience, and that they expected he'd be gone soon for an even bigger job probably south to like Atlanta or north to maybe Hartford. After that I kind of kept a little closer watch on my wife. What I saw was kind of disquieting.
The first thing that crossed my mind was how I remembered the way she used to behave when we'd be at functions like this. She'd be on my arm almost the whole time. She'd be with me when we ate, and she'd keep her hand on my arm and we'd promenade about all over the place talking and mixing. What was happening today was this new guy, this Gary Weaver, was usurping my role.
Well, all right he was her boss, maybe she had her reasons. Still I thought I'd sidle over and see what kind of reception I'd get. I strolled on over.
When I got to where my wife and Weaver were I took her arm, "How's it going honey?" I was surprised; she pulled away.
"I'm fine Jeremy," then she looked at her nearly empty wine glass and added, "Jeremy be a dear and get me another wine."
It was then this Weaver fellow looked at me for the first time, he said, 'Hey pal, if you're going to get more drinks get me a beer."
I asked him, "Any particular brand?"
He replied, "A Coors Lite would be good."
I smiled at the two of them, "Sure be right back."
As I walked away I heard this Weaver fellow ask my wife, "Who was that guy?"
I heard her reply, "Oh he's nobody; he's just my husband," then I heard her giggle.
Crap, I thought, I'm nobody just the husband. Next I thought, my wife never giggles. I got the wine and the beer and sauntered back over. Was I surprised; they each took their beverages and walked away. She took the wine without even looking at me. Hey I thought; no introductions? I decided not to make a scene, but I watched more closely as they walked away. They didn't go anywhere. I half expected them to slip down to the boathouse and get it on. I'm only joking of course, but I'd stopped seeing the humor in what she'd been doing. Hell, I didn't see any humor in anything after that; she'd totally disrespected me.
I thought, well fuck her, two can play that game. I espied one of her girlfriends; a girl I knew who was interested in me. I slipped over to her, "Hey Marge, what's up?"
Marge gave me a soft smile and murmured, "I saw it Jeremy."
"Come on Jeremy, I wasn't the only one. Greta blew you off."
I played dumb, "She did?"
That's when she hit me, "You don't know do you."
Uh oh I thought, but suddenly I think I did, "Know what?"
Marge nodded her head.
I was dumbfounded, but I still played it like this was a joke, "Are you telling me my wife is having a case of the naughties?"
Marge rolled her eyes like I was some asshole, "You don't get it do you?"
Yeah I got it. I was an asshole. That's when I took her arm, "Come inside. I want to talk." I cast one more look back at my loving wife. She was still on Casanova's arm. I kept telling myself, no, this isn't what Marge wants me to believe. Still I walked her inside and we found an empty room. The room was pretty nice; oriental rugs, a bunch of old Chinese vases, expensive looking flowers. I couldn't think of a better place to find out my wife might be cheating on me.
We got inside and both sat down. I looked at Marge, "Ok, what gives?"
"I'm sorry Jeremy. I thought, well I thought maybe you knew."
"If I tell you, you'll promise not to say where you got it. I don't want to lose my job."
"Promise Marge, I won't tell anyone. Now what is it you want to tell me?"
She peeked out the door, then turned back to me, "This man Gary Weaver tooled into town about three months ago. Word is the people in home office have had their eye on your wife. Jeremy she's a real good talker and people in the Home Office in New England think she's got something."
Wow I never knew that. Then again, it was about two months ago Greta started to get closed lipped. Maybe that was when she got wind of something, "Tell me Marge, you would know, is she that good?"
Marge shook her head sideways, "Greta's only good at spreading her legs and running her mouth. First, maybe four months ago, she got it on with a supervisor named Larry Hopkins, but he and his wife left town right after Greta got her big promotion."