Hearth and Home

After dinner, I put the dishes in the dishwasher; I told her I had to go see my father about something. I went to my den, my above the garage hunting lodge. I pulled on a pair of rubber gloves I'd just bought for this very occasion. I slipped into a new pair of tennis shoes, and went to my gun cabinet. I pulled out my trusty 460 Magnum Smith and Wesson five shot revolver. This was an older unregistered weapon I'd bought outside a gun show down in Georgia one spring while I was canoeing. I loaded it from an unopened box of cartridges. I put the gun in my pants pocket; of course the damn thing stuck out a little bit, a lot actually, but it was dark outside, I didn't think anyone would see it. I went down to the garage, got in my wife's car, hit the button that opened the garage door, and backed down the drive.

As I started down the street my cell phone went off. It was my wife; she wanted to know why I was taking her car. I told her I wanted to check her brakes. I did that sort of thing so she thanked me and hung up.

I drove on over to Weaver's quad. I saw his car was there. I was surprised at how calm I was. Here I was, Mr. White Bread always the law abiding citizen, getting ready to blow some other man's head off. Actually I felt kind of good. I was defending my home, my hearth, my property. I was John Wayne! I parked my wife's car and walked up the sidewalk to his front door. I knocked. I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do. I thought maybe I'd just walk in, blow him away, and leave. Maybe I would give him a chance to come clean. I decided to try choice number two.

I knocked a second time. He opened his door. He looked out at me and said, "What do you want?"

I gave him my most piteous look, "Can I come in for a minute?"

He hesitated, but then he pulled open his door. He stepped back so I could walk inside.

I walked to the middle of his front room and turned around. I decided to play the wimp, "I know you're seeing my wife. I want you to stop."

He gave me this silly shit eating smug assed grin. He thought I was there to beg. I bet it gave him a charge. Here I was this bigger man begging him to leave my wife alone. He told me, "She's your wife; if you can't keep her you don't deserve her."

The dumb shit; I pulled out my Smith and Wesson and pointed it at him. I lowered my voice, "I'm sorry man..." God what a rush!

The son-of-a-bitch broke right down and started to cry, "Oh please Jeremy, that's your name, please Jeremy don't shoot me. I'm fucking sorry man. I'll stop. I promise. I won't see her anymore."

I pulled back on the trigger and cocked my weapon, geez was it loud, it scared even me, "Get on your fucking knees."

He dropped like a rock. I could smell urine; he'd pissed his pants. He kept crying and whimpering, "Please I'm sorry. I have children," he looked up at me, "I'm married. She doesn't know. Please, oh Jesus, please don't hurt me. My wife my kids, they need me."

I put the gun a little closer to his head. I got out my cell phone, "I'm going to call my wife. When she picks up the phone you're going to tell her you're married. You're going to tell her you don't want to see her again. Tell her you won't be back at the office. Tell her you're going home, and you won't be back."

He looked at me, but didn't say anything. Maybe I was going to have to kill him after all? I pushed my revolver down to his mouth, "Open your mouth."

He opened his mouth.

"Put the barrel in your mouth." I felt like Sylvester Stallone!

He did as I instructed.

I asked him, "You want a blow job?"

He shook his head no.

I pulled the weapon back out of his mouth. I got out my cell, I hit the side so it would be on speaker phone, and I tapped in my wife's number. I handed him the phone, "You know what to say?"

He nodded; the phone rang, after two rings I heard my wife speak, "Hello Jeremy what do you want?"

Weaver replied, "It's me."

"You," she responded, "what are you doing on my..." she stopped talking for a second, then she added, "put my husband on."

Weaver very wisely asserted, "I can't", then he started, 'Greta we can't see each other anymore. I'm leaving tonight. I'm going home. I never told you. I'm married. My wife and children, they need me."

I heard Greta's voice on the other end; her tone had changed considerably, "You're married?"

He said, "I can't talk any more. I'm sorry, good bye", he closed the phone and placed it on the nearby coffee table.

I kept the gun aimed squarely at his head and asked, "Does my wife have anything here?"

That's when my cell phone rang. I looked at the old make out king, "Let it ring."

It rang a few times and then went to voice mail. I heard my wife's voice, "Gary...Gary. Are you there?" Then she spoke to me, "Jeremy I know you're there? Don't hurt him. Please don't hurt him. Please just come home. We can work this out." There was another pause, then she hung up.

My first thought was she might call the police so I picked up the pace. I asked him again, "My wife have anything here?"

He nodded, "In the bedroom."

I kept the gun on him, "Get a trash bag and fill it."

I followed him to his kitchen. He got a black plastic trash bag and went to his bedroom. I followed him. There was a toothbrush and a couple skimpy little nighties and that was all.

I backed my way to his front door; before I left I told him, "Go to your office tonight. Get everything you need. I don't care if you have to quit, but I want you gone before my wife goes to work tomorrow. If I ever see your ugly face again I promise you you'll regret it. You understand?"

He nodded.

I backed out the door, walked speedily to my wife's car got in and drove home. I didn't think he'd call the police on me. He'd told my wife about his family; his little vacation here was over. I felt pretty good. I never wanted to kill anybody anyway. Now it was time to settle up with Greta.

By the time I got home it was close to midnight; the living room lights were still on. I drove up and left her car in the driveway. I got out. I had the trash bag with her shit, and I still had my revolver in my pocket. I walked in the front door. She was waiting for me in the living room; she was on the sofa this time.

I went over and sat down on the chair. I laid the pistol on my lap. I waited for her to say something. I waited. She looked scared.

Finally Greta opened her mouth, "I didn't know he was married."

I replied, "You knew you were."

She was wearing a pair of shorty pajamas. She had her knees and her feet close together. Her hands were clasped together on her lap; she kept her face looking toward her hands, "You were going to kill him?"

"Yes. I still may."

She sort of half shrugged half cringed. She looked at me, and then she looked off sort of to the left. I saw she had tears in her eyes, "Why?"

"He threatened my family."

She looked back at me. She had had this really sad plaintive kind of look, "What if I told you I didn't love you anymore?"

"I already know that," I was numb, but I knew we had to straighten this out.

"I'm sorry; it's not that I don't love you, it's just that I'm not in love with you, not like...well you know."

It was time for honesty, "Greta I was never ever really in love with you, not like you're thinking. I liked you. You made me happy. There were dozens of girls I could have fallen in love with. Want me to name a few?"

She looked kind of surprised; still scared but surprised. She shook her head no.

"Greta you were this sweet fun girl. You made people laugh. You wanted a big family. Remember, you said you wanted six maybe seven kids. That's what I wanted. Well we've got three, and they're all three pretty good kids. You're their mother. So you say you're not in love with me, and I tell you I'm not in love with you either, but we have those babies upstairs. Can you say you're not in love with them? I don't mean sexual carnal love, I mean real love, true love, the love a parent has for a helpless baby. Think about those babies. They're your babies, and don't tell me they're not mine we both know better. Remember we did the blood and DNA things for each of them when they started school."

She was getting ready to cry, "I suppose you'll want a divorce."

"Damn it Greta I almost killed a man tonight. He had his mouth wrapped around the barrel of my revolver. I was ready to pull the trigger. I would've too. I may still."

"You might still kill Gary?"

"I will protect what's mine. You're mine. Those people upstairs are mine. This house is mine. This is my family. I will never give it up."

She started really crying then. I walked the distance between the chair and the sofa. I slid the gun back in my pocket. I sat down beside her and pulled her in my arms, "Greta there's something you have to know," she peered up at me, "you're the worst fuck I ever had, and you know I've had my share. No man will ever want you for the sex. You're absolutely worthless in bed, but you've been a good wife until two months ago, you've always been a terrific mother, and some day you'll probably turn out to be a pretty good grandmother."

"What if I want a divorce?"

"That will never happen. If you tried, if you got a lawyer, I promise you I'd have to find a way to get rid of you. Maybe a car accident, maybe a hit and run; who knows?"

"You'd have me murdered?"

"Damn it, what did I just say? I almost murdered a completely innocent man tonight; a man who was away from home just looking for a little fun. I've done the same thing in the past. Greta you're a cheating bitch. You think for one minute I'd hesitate getting rid of you if you threatened to take my kids from me? Shit I already told you I never seriously loved you."

I watched her. She really seemed to shrink back at what I'd just said. I supposed it must have hurt. Considering what she'd been doing I suppose that should've made me feel good, honestly it didn't. I guess she thought I really loved her. Looking at her now all helpless and vulnerable and guilty and shit; I guess I really did, love her I mean. I suppose I never really thought about it before, not like I was right then at that very moment. I mean how can you live with someone for fourteen years and make three kids and not feel something? Yeah I guess I did love the little shit.

I went on, "I liked you once, now that's gone. I thought I could trust you, that's a joke now too isn't it? You'll stay. You'll stay married. You'll be the dutiful wife and the loving mother. I might even fuck you once in a while, but you'll never leave," as bad as things were I realized how really fucking weak and vulnerable she was. She had no idea.

She looked up at me all innocent eyed like she never knew anything, "You cheated on me?"

"You surprised? I haven't since Felicity was old enough to walk, but I'll be back out now. You can count on it."

She started fidgeting, "I never thought. I never knew you..."

I was surprised. I guess she really didn't know. I told her, "Tomorrow you'll quit your job. I'll drive you over and help you clean out your desk. They'll know why you're quitting too, because I kind of think old lover boy will have already been there. Later tomorrow we'll go through your clothes. I'm sick of the tight assed mini-skirts, the stupid sweaters that don't fit right, and the tight too short dresses. You look like shit in that stuff. I'll choose your new wardrobe. I like feminine little jumpers. I like pretty things; blouses and slacks and shit like that. From now on you'll dress to please me."

"You don't like my clothes?"

"No I don't like your clothes. You look like a cheap little tart. I don't like that you have a job. I don't like your attitude. Who knows someday I might like you again. Someday I might take you out again on a real date. Someday I might try to be nice to you again. I doubt it, but you can only hope. In the mean time I'll expect you to be the good mother like you were just a few months ago, and I'll expect you to be polite and considerate toward me. That shit at the barbeque about not introducing me to asshole will never happen again. Shit you acted like he was Brad Pitt or George Fucking Clooney, and I was John Fucking Candy. I'll never embarrass, ridicule, or humiliate you, and around the kids I'll be kind and gentle, but don't expect much more."

"I...I'm sorry about not...introducing..."

"Crap Greta I didn't really give a shit. I knew who he was. I knew what was up. Shit you asshole; you even fucking giggled."

"I...I'll..."

"You'll do what you're told. You'll be a good mother and a loyal wife. In exchange I'll treat you with the respect you don't deserve, and if I decide to go out and get laid I'll be discreet so no one will catch me, and you'll never be embarrassed," I could tell she was still numb. I knew she'd probably start to come up with some new scheme in a week or so, but I'd be ready.

She looked at me again, "Am I really that bad in bed?"

"Greta you have no idea how lousy you really are."

"But we used to do it a lot. I liked it."

"Greta go upstairs. Take another shower. Shave your fucking pussy. I'll be up in a minute."

"You want me to..."

"Yeah shave your cunt. Almost killing a man and telling you how I feel has made me horny."

Greta got up and went upstairs.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Epilogue:

I got basically everything I wanted. I kept my kids, my house, and for what she was worth I kept my wife. Would I have killed the bastard? Honestly, yes, I think I would have. They probably would have had me down as a suspect, but dad had promised to be my alibi for that night.

Did Greta and I ever get back to normal? That depends on what someone might think was normal.

Greta was scared shitless around me for a long time, but that slowly wore off. I went out of my way to be respectful and considerate. She worked hard at being a good mother. She never missed another dance or lacrosse game. When school started in the fall we both attended all the big school events together. For a while I found the sex I needed outside the house. I kept my promise. I was discreet; nobody ever had reason to look at her the way Marge looked at me at the barbeque.

I worked hard to get her appearance straightened out. When she was in college and under her parents control she had an impish elfin look that made her look sassy and pretty. I got her back to that. I think she felt better about it too. It made her look younger and prettier. I told her it made her look young and pretty. Felicity even said something once. I know she started to act younger and prettier.

I started being nicer to her. I started holding her hand and opening doors for her when we were out. When we went out to a restaurant or something I made her wait in the car so I could go around and open her door for her, and I didn't just walk away after she got out. I made her take my hand and I walked her to the restaurant door. Then I'd open the door and hold it for her when she went in. I did shit like pulling her chair out for her, and not sitting down until after she did. These were firsts for me; it felt odd for a while.

I started holding her in my arms at night when we were in bed, and I kissed her more. A couple of times after the kids were in bed I made her sit on the living room floor in front of the sofa with her back to me so I could braid her hair. She acted really silly when I did that. I made her sit on my lap once in front of the kids; that really made her feel foolish. Felicity got embarrassed by it, but Jeremy laughed.

I even kissed her when we were out in public. She blushed the first time I did it.

Before she had her affair we'd always only had sex in bed. I decided to change the routine some. At first I did it to sort of punish her, but after a while the things I did got to be fun.

A couple times after the kids went to bed I made her sit on my lap on the living room sofa facing me. I made her pull up her dress and take off her panties so I could slide my penis inside her. She was still real tight, and that was even after three kids. I made her sit still with my rod inside her while I kissed her and played with her nipples.

Once she was rinsing some dishes in the kitchen at the sink. The kids were outside in the backyard. We could see them through the kitchen window; it was warm out, the window was up, and we could hear them real clear through the screen. They could hear us too. They were maybe fifteen feet away. I got up behind her and pulled her shorts and panties down and stuffed my dick in her twat right while she correcting Farrah about playing too rough. Greta made this high pitched 'oops' sound. The kids stopped what they were doing and looked at us through the window. She didn't fight me or try to move though. She just stood there looking at the kids with my dick stuck in her pussy. I nibbled on her ear, while she pretended to rinse the rest of the dishes.

I wondered sometimes if some of what had happened might have been my fault. She'd always been real inhibited about sex. I started being more tender and more affectionate about what we did in bed. Maybe I'd just assumed she knew more than she really did. She got better at it. I stopped seeing women outside our marriage. I think she knew when I stopped.

Did she ever fall back in love with me again? I kind of think she did. I know she started acting a lot more affectionate toward me.

At night after we put the kids in bed instead of me going to my private den and her reading in the kitchen we started sitting next to each other on the sofa in the living room watching TV. Once or twice she put her hand inside my pants and played with my Mustang. I'd get a hard on. I would retaliate by reaching over so I could finger the outside of her puss. I could feel her get wet when I did that.

I started doing stupid effeminate stuff like touching her neck with my fingers. I could tell she'd get the shivers. It kind of bothered me; was I supposed to be doing this crap all along?

Sometimes late at night when she was asleep in my arms I wondered just how many of her problems might have been at least partly mine too. I gave up the hunting and the fishing. We did more things together. We started going to the beach. Sometimes we just sat on the swing in the backyard together.

I got rid of the stuff in my den. Yeah I threw out all the deer heads and I even got rid of my bear. I found another place for my gun collection. We put in a ping pong table for the kids, and she got a sewing machine. She bought these paper shapes and started sewing her own clothes. Pretty soon my old hunting lodge was piled up with stacks of material. It was strange, but I sort of felt good about it. The kids were in it all the time too. They started calling it the 'Family Room'. I had the most unusual feeling the first time Felicity called it that.

I asked her if there were any things she really wanted to do. She said she always wanted to go to New York and see some Broadway shows. We took a week off together and went to New York.

She told me she always liked it when I did stand-up comedy at the local clubs. I made up a bunch of stupid jokes about her and tried them out. No one laughed, but I could see she really appreciated it. She sat there all stupid acting clapping her hands together like I was Steve Martin.

It was kind of funny I started enjoying being around her more. I even hardly missed the sports. I bought some tickets to a couple NFL games. We went to the stadium and screamed our heads off.

I don't know but it got really funny. I kept saying nice things to her, and I started enjoying doing it. I told her how pretty she looked, and I think I really meant it. That's when I realized she really was pretty. She even started hugging me and stuff. I wondered maybe I did love her after all. I even bought her a bunch of flowers. We'd only been married what fifteen years? There's a first time for everything.