I Lost Control of the Marriage

I had planned to give her a grope and a kiss as I usually did, but I felt too much revulsion. I realized that what I saw this afternoon was a complete turn off for me. I didn't think my feelings would change over time. I no longer looked at her with anger and contempt. I was wasting my time hanging around her. Why screw around? I didn't want her back. If she thought Roland was so great, let her have him. What the fuck I want with her, if she doesn't' want me! I began to rethink the video and my plan for shitting in her bed.

If I made her believe the worst about Roland with the porn site, she would drop him, all right, but then might try to win me back. She'd stick to me like toilet paper on the heel of your shoe. Better for me to move on and plan accordingly. So I never mentioned the website and as far as I knew, she never saw it. I made no moves to get a last fuck that night. I just didn't care.

The next morning, as soon as she was out the door, I called a Messinger service to pick up the divorce papers and deliver them at 4PM to Wifey's work. I went out to the bank. I shifted some money around in the savings and brokerage account to split it 50/50. By now she was at work, so I closed out all of our joint credit cards.

When I got home, I changed the lock on the front door. I packed the clothes she commonly wore to work neatly in a suit case. I bagged all the other clothing in her closet in some heavy duty garbage bags. I logged on. The Humvee was in Wilmington and Wifey's car at work.

I didn't bother to empty her bureau. I wrapped a rope around it to keep the drawers from falling out, and used a two wheel truck to get it to the car. About killed myself getting it up on the roof racks. I filled the car with the trash bags . I remembered the garage door opener and just unplugged it. Locking the front door, I drove to her mother's cottage. Her mom was stunned. I asked her not to call her daughter until after 3 PM as I had more stuff to move.

On my second trip, I got the bed and mattress on top of the car and loaded the bedding , her bedside table and more bags of stuff in the trunk. I went back one last time and packed her CD's and such, two boxes of knickknacks and books. I looked like a modern dust bowl refugee driving slowly to her mother's.

Her mom remarked, "I like the idea of her living in the garage. That way, she knows this is temporary. In 4-5 months it will be mighty damn cold! It will give her an incentive to move out. I always did like you, Chris. Is it unreasonable to ask you to stay in touch?"

"Grace, I'll be glad to keep in touch, especially if it means a home cooked dinner from time to time."

I got the bed set up, and the lamp and alarm clock plugged in. I even made the bed, nice guy that I am. I set her vibrator, with a spare set of batteries, on her pillow and covered it with the bed spread as I thought it in poor taste for her mother to see it. Ah...her mom probably has one of her own.

At 3:10, I was having a beer with her mom while she called Karen at the office. "Karen, I just wanted to tell you that Chris has thrown you out, and I have to take you in, for now. Chris brought most of your stuff over and put it in the garage. I don't know what you were thinking of, you silly fool." And hung up!

"Is this the really the end, Chris? You two seemed very happy. What really happened? "

I told her some of the details, not being at all graphic. . "Yah, pretty much the end of our marriage. Your daughter apparently hasn't figured out what marriage is and what our mutual responsibilities are. I don't think she's ready for it. Maybe she will be by the time she remarries. I must admit, there isn't muchhope though. We'll see."

Driving back to my house, I called Roland's wife and told her what's what. She told me to fuck off and my own business. I pointed out, again, that it was my business as it was my soon to be former wife he was fucking, but I got no thanks from her. Oh well, you just can't please some people.

I had composed a nice letter, I thought.

"Karen,

You were right. It is kind of you to work with Roland to overcome his marital problems, whatever they are. It's important to you and important to him, however, not so much for me. I do want you to be happy, so as I promised, I am releasing you from our marriage. You can devote yourself fulltime to Roland, and to the many others who will no doubt take his place as he has taken mine. I don't know what you're looking for in this life but as I reflect on our time together, I am relieved that your future has nothing to do with me.

Know that I will not bad mouth you and will be polite to you whenever we meet."

May you find peace, and joy in this life

Chris"

I drove back to her mom's, dumped the last of the plastic bags in the garage. I put the letter into a sealed envelope and laid it on the bed. After saying goodbye and kissing her mom, I headed back home.

Coming into our neighborhood, I parked two blocks over from our house. Karen or Roland might want revenge, and I just as soon have my car out of sight. I walked to the street behind ours and came through Mrs. Corbin's yard which backs up to our house. I unlocked the back door and let myself in. Peeking out, no Karen yet.

I checked the computer. Roland's truck was at his house in Wilmington. Karen was just leaving work. I presumed she didn't get her mother's message. I changed the answering machine, stating that she no longer was at this number Blah Blah. Too kind. I erased it and recorded a new message. Karen didn't live here anymore. I included her cell phone number for people looking for her.

I will spare you the gnashing of teeth, ringing on the cell phone, and Karen's pounding on the door. At first she denied that she did anything with Roland but talk. By the end of the week, she admitted getting "Carried away once, that it wouldn't happen again." Good, I didn't have to tell her about the video tape. On Friday, her mother called and asked if I would meet Karen at her house on Saturday. I agreed.

I have literotica to thank for the idea that saved me a pot of money. I wrote a contract stating that in the future, if one of us cheated on the other and evidence of the cheating was sufficient to convince a magistrate, the cheating partner would leave the marriage with only a $10,000 settlement. I deliberately did a somewhat crude job with the wording and made another appointment with Burt, my lawyer.

I showed it to him. "Burt, the agreement is supposed to be crudely written. I want to lull her into signing what she might regard as a private agreement. I want you to read it over, and where necessary, change it so that is will be a binding, air tight contract, hopefully without changing the amateurish tone of the letter."

He read it over again. "I suppose I should fuss over it a lot to run the fees up, but it's fine as is. I've done a few prenuptial contracts, but never a nuptial contract. Bit of a novelty. You need two copies, one for each of you, and they have to be witnessed and dated by someone."

"Would her mother do?"

"Well legally, yes, but would she verify her signature later on in court? Why take the chance. Better get someone else who has no ax to grind."

The fee was modest, and the trap was set.

We met at her mom's, just the two of us. She was dressed quite seductively, barefoot, summer weight dress, and no underwear, that I could tell.

"Karen, did I get the time wrong? I thought your Mom said 12:30."

"No, you're right on time. Why would you think otherwise?"

"Well, dressed as you are, I thought maybe Rolley was coming by?"

"I haven't seen Roland for a while, and I'm not going to any more. I dressed this way for you! Chris, I've really screwed up, haven't I

"What day was that?"

"Huh?"

"You said I haven't seen him for a while, and I asked what day you were referring to."

"Errr, the day before you threw me out."

"Oh, I'm sorry. There was no reason for you to stop seeing him. I mean he's your friend, and a friend in need is a friend indeed, whatever that means."

"Well, I think you were right about his marital problem. You see, he..."

"Stop right there. Don't you remember? Rolley doesn't want you talking about his marital problems with me. That's confidential, after all. And after all your work helping Rolley and Sandra get back together, I can't imagine you blabbing now. Honestly! I must admit, I did imagine it was erectile dysfunction that you were helping Rolley overcome, and at his age, well he doesn't need to have that get out, does he. I hope your hard work helped the two of them."

"OK, possibly I deserved that, put please cut the sarcasm. I freely admit I've really been a fool, but I love you. I really hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I don't see how you can. You must hate me!"

"I'd like to continue this conversation, but it's 12:15, and my stomach is demanding food. Change into street clothes, and we'll go to the pub."

I forced the conversation to small talk in the car. We sat in a rear booth, by ourselves.

"So do I hate you, you asked. Of course not. I try very hard not to hate anyone, you, Rolley, corrupt politicians. Hate is too corrosive to the person carrying it. To not hate you, I have to forgive you, so I have." She looked surprised and the sniveling paused.

"It's worse than that. If you really were just being a fool this once, I suppose I could get past that in time, but I've given it a lot of thought. I think the real problem is that you are an immature fool. I gave you lots of opportunity to look at what you were doing, but you simply couldn't see. I don't really blame you for that. It's how you are, at leastat this time in your life. Since it is not really your fault, it's easy to forgive you. I suppose there is some chance that as you mature, you will become wiser, but I really don't wish to hang around and wait to see when or if that happens. Look, you're brilliant at many things, but you're totally clueless about so very many other things that I value, and I don't suffer fools well."

"Chris, believe me, I've grown up really fast these last few weeks. I think we can make our marriage work, and I'll do anything toward that end. What do you think we have to do?"

"Well, I've thought about that. I trusted you implicitly, and that trust was completely misplaced. One of your virtues is that you empathize with people. Almost a Mother Theresa figure, but with a different vocation. Think what a tragedy it would have been if somebody's grandfather had married her and she ended up as a housewife in Peoria?. All those people in India, with no one to help them.

"Mother Theresa was born in Peoria? I never knew that! Is that true?"

"I was speaking metaphorically. She was born in Macedonia. Anyway, that's how I feel about marrying you and limiting you, restricting you! I mean, if someone's feeling bad, low self esteem, rotten wife, impotence, I might spend a little time chatting with them. Tell them the joke of the day to make them laugh or give them a few bucks but that would be it! How much help would that do them? Almost none! But you! My god, you literally go all the way with them in an effort to really help them. It would be wrong of me to interfere with such a vocation. Roland and no doubt a great many others would be left to find their way alone!"

"There were no others. Just once with Roland, and..."

"Oh, that is true humility. A rich man with plenty to give, gives millions to charity, but when asked says modestly, 'Oh, I just help out where I can.' Really, you're being too modest, but I understand. Modesty too, is a virtue." I wasn't interested in making this too easy for her

"Chris, I really realize what a muck I've made of it all. I've grown up immensely! I really have."

"Let me think about it, Karen. What it all comes to is do I wish to risk wasting more years of my life with you or move on. Let's meet again tomorrow, say here at 12:30?"

"Of course. Sure. 12:30."

She was waiting for me when I walked in the door at 12:35. I don't know how long she had been there, but her beer glass was only 1/3 full. As before, we made small talk. I didn't ask her if her mom's garage was beginning to feel cozy and homey.

"Ok, here's what I've been thinking. As I see it, having slipped once, you are at some risk to do it again. If I have to go through the anguish of my wife fucking around, I want to be compensated for it. So here's the deal. If I catch you screwing around and can prove it to a magistrate, you're out the door with ten grand and I get the rest. Now, it's only fair that I offer you the same deal. It penalizes the adulterer. If we both sign this agreement, we bury the hatchet and get on with our lives."

I slid the amateur looking agreement, complete with inconsequential misspellings, over to her. As I expected, she did a quick read it and said, "Ok. It's fair. I can sign this. I really appreciate your being so forgiving. I'm not sure I could be in your place."

"Let's hope neither of us are in my place in the future. Dante, could you come over here a minute."

The owner, a casual acquaintance of ours, came right over. "Ah Chris, Karen. Is there a problem? New help in the kitchen is always trouble for me."

"Nothing like that, Dante. Karen and I are signing an agreement between us and we need someone to witness the signatures. Would you do this for us? You really don't have to read the documents because it's only the signing you're attesting to."

"Of course, Dante will do this for his friends!"

It was over in a minute. Karen and I each had a signed, witnessed legal document. What followed was a second honeymoon, with vows of fidelity, love and such. But she was stubborn and I suspected that her affair wasn't over yet.

Monday, I was back to the motel. Indeed, the same clerk was on duty. "Troy, may I have a word with you?"

"Sure."

"Look, whenever someone makes a reservation for Roland St Clair, give them the same room as last time. Room 114. And here's something for your troubles."

"Well, I don't know." Rocket scientists are rarely desk clerks.

"Look, you have to assign the customer a room. He's stayed in that room and presumably likes it, so isn't it reasonable to give him a room he likes? One he is familiar with? Should anyone ask, and they won't, it's just good customer service. Of course, if the customer asks for some other room, fine. By all means, give them that room."

"Well...OK" and he pocketed the cash.

At 9 o'clock Thursday, I got a short phone call. "The aaaaaccountant is back!" and Natalie hung up the phone. I was off work that day, so I looked to the tracking program. Sure enough Roland stopped at the motel that morning on his way to Princeton.

At 11:45, my phone rang again. "Trouble in paradise. She said she won't be back today."

A few minutes later the phone rang again. "Your pal gave his regards to us all until next time and headed out the door. Good luck, Chri. Hope it's not what it looks like."

I checked the tracking. They were heading towards the motel, but stopped at a steak house. Good. Plenty of time.

I sat in a parking lot across from the motel, munching on a tasty sandwich from the Crusty Loaf Deli. I had brushed off the crumbs and was sipping a cup of coffee when they rolled into the parking lot. They parked right in front of room 114. I got some pictures as they hugged by their cars before walking to the motel room door, hands in each other's hip pockets. After a minute or two, I pulled into the parking lot, out of sight as before. My computer had started to record the scene as I was crossing the street. The dialog was different from before, but the actions were about the same.

"Here's the contract Chris wrote up. It was embarrassing. He asked me to sign it in right in that dreadful pub he likes, the Jolly Big Joint, over on Main. That creepy guy that owns it, Dante something-or-other, witnessed it. I mean, who would write an amateur thing like that? You know? It sounds silly, but Roland, this is the last time, at least for a while. I don't want him to find out, not that he would, but he did once, so maybe again. That wouldn't be good."

"Karen, just listen to this. My god, this is a contract? It's like totally folksy and the spell check was off. It'd be laughed out of court. Forget it. It's just a Perry Mason wet dream"

"Who's Perry Mason?"

"He was a TV show lawyer, a pompous ass. In this super serious manner, he got people to confess to god knows what on the witness stand. Totally unbelievable. Forget last Sunday, come here. Let's see some flesh!"

She moved closer "Rolley, you're not listening. This is it."

"Nonsense, Karen. You said that last time. I need you. You need me. Don't you enjoy what we do together? With me, you can ask for anything, do anything, and we do it! Look..."

He had been unbuttoning her blouse past her bra during this blather, and pulled it down off her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. He rolled her bra and pushed it down to mid waist so the straps also trapped her arms and exposed her breasts.

"Look at you, Karen. Your cheeks are flushed with lust. Your nipples are hard. I saw you squeezing your thighs together to rub your cunt." His hand slid down inside her slacks."My god, you're wet as can be! This pussy is soaking."

They kissed for a very long time. Her tits were mashed against his shirt and it looked like his hand was kneading her cunt. He broke the kiss to pull her pants down. With a touch to her shoulders, she kneeled in front of that bastard and waited while he freed his prick. I must say, if I had a better video resolution, I could sell this! After a boring couple of minutes of Karen sucking cock, he picked her up, pulled her panties down past her knees, and bent her over the back of the chair. With her arms pinned to her sides and her panties holding her knees somewhat close together, it must have been a bit uncomfortable.

"Karen, do you want me to fuck you? If you really mean no, now's the time to say so."

"Jeezus Rolley. You and your dirty talk. OK! Yes! Fuck my cunt! Right! Just do it, god damn it! Stop talking and do me!"

With wet dick and wet cunt, Roland plunged in with vigor. Karen worked one hand between her legs and masturbated to the rhythm of Rolley's thrusts. The two of them set up a chorus worthy of professionals. If aliens could hear this, they would conclude we have a language we only use while fucking. I had had enough. I closed the window and settled down to try to work with the sound turned down. I couldn't get anything done, so I started to work on this story. I picked my head up when Karen blurted "Oh my God. Look at the time! Rolley, Get dressed, I have to get home! No,damnit, I don't have time for a shower.

I debated what to do next. In the end, I drove around to their room, got out of the car, and stood next to the door. My digital camera would record about 5 minutes of conversation, and I didn't have long to wait. I switched the camera on when I heard one of them slide the chain slide off the catch.

Karen came trotting out calling over her shoulder. "OK, Rolley, same time next week!"

"You can fuck him tomorrow, if you like!"

"EEEEeek! Shit, you scared ...what are you doing here? Oh my god!"

"I'm doing just what you're doing...witnessing the end of our marriage. Don't bother to go home. You don't have one. I changed the lock. I'll drop your stuff off at your mom's."

"No, Chris, You can't."

"Oh yes, I can. I already walked the extra mile. And more fool you. That was a $100,000 afternoon delight you just had, I get the house and our investments, and you only get 10 grand, but I suppose you realize that."

"Chris, you fucking son of a bitch. You can't do that. "

No point in hanging around gloating. As I opened the door to my car, Roland's head peeked around the door.