Meeting the Master Ch. 01

My loving wife dropped what she was doing and sat down at the table across from me with an expression of total incredulity.

"WHAT did you just say?"

Guess I had her full attention now. Good. I drew a silent breath and repeated my question.

"Are you having an affair Ruthie?"

A simple six-word sentence but loaded with potentially life altering implications. A sentence that is all too often a precursor for heartbreak and pain.

My dad - blessed be his memory - often said that, if you can't handle the answer don't ask the question. His years as a successful lawyer in the small town where I grew up had provided him with a keen insight into human behavior and I learned a lot from him. He had also taught me to never ask a question without knowing the answer in advance. This slice of wisdom would soon become relevant too.

"Oh my GOD! Are you serious Steve? Have you lost your mind? Why on earth would you suspect me of such a thing?"

"Just humor me Ruthie. Please. Are you or are you not? It's not an essay question. Yes or no?"

"Of course NOT! Seriously Steve. I can't BELIEVE you would even entertain an idea like that. What on earth has gotten into you?"

She was getting angry now and I could understand why. Infidelity is probably the single most serious allegation you can make towards a spouse. Throwing around accusations of that nature frivolously can kill a marriage faster than George W. Bush killed the American economy.

Which brought me to my dad's other advice.

I handed Ruth the thin brown folder adorned by a well-known PI firm's logo and rose to procure a cold beer from the fridge. When I returned to the table all color had drained from her face and her eyes were full of tears. She looked like somebody who had just been handed a death sentence, and in some way I guess she had. At least concerning the part of her life that involved the family.

I fought a sudden urge to rush over to comfort her. I was the victim here goddammit! So instead I just looked questioning at her.

"I will ask again Ruthie, and this time please have the courtesy to be straight with me. Are you having an affair?"

"Oh honey. It's not that simple..." she began in a weak voice.

"Then let us look at it from the side of the evidence, shall we? What were you doing at this place for instance?"

I pointed at a photo showing Ruth getting out of a limo in font of what was obviously a large upper class mansion of some sort. She was wearing her long red coat and was easily recognisable.

She just looked at me, silently crying like a lost child. I pretended not to notice or care and continued.

"And is that you in this picture Ruthie?"

I pointed at another photo showing a woman sitting naked astride a man on a bed, her eyes closed in an expression of intense passion. Her features were slightly blurred - probably caused by her movements combined with the fact that the photo had been shot with a powerful tele through a set of blinds - but the resemblance to Ruth was striking.

"It that you Ruthie? Did you have sex with that man?"

She still said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes. I had to get away before I did something I would later regret.

"I am going out," I stated and left without looking back.

**********

This early in the day the bar was almost empty, which suited me perfectly. I needed to think, not socialise. I had to consider the future of my marriage, if indeed it had any.

"Draw me a cold one Charlie," I growled and a cold beer appeared before me, almost as if by magic.

I took a swig of the bitter ale and felt the cobwebs clear from my head. Beer - what would civilisation do without it?

Thus invigorated I sat back and carefully contemplated my options.

Was I happily married to Ruth?

Yes I was.

Our love-life had gradually tapered off over the years, down to a few times a week. We no longer went at it with the same energy as we did at the beginning of our relationship, but I never saw that as anything unusual. It was simply complacency born of familiarity. Ruth had never rejected me nor refused to try new things in bed. Even when she wasn't in the mood I could always count on a quickie whenever I wanted sex. Hell, I could probably have it twice a day or more if I let I know that I really wanted to.

No, I could honestly say that I missed nothing in the coital department.

And that was what made this whole business so strange. There had been absolutely NO indication of Ruth having a cock on the side, nor that she felt neglected or unsatisfied in our relationship. Quite the contrary. She had clearly been happy as a clam until I set off my little bomb an hour ago. If Dave hadn't spotted her in town with that stranger and tipped me off, I would never have suspected a thing.

Make no mistake though. Kicking Ruth to the curb and filing for a speedy divorce was definitely high on the list of possibilities. Unfortunately I still loved the dumb bitch and we had two great kids plus a lot of history together. I was hurting and I was angry, but twenty good years had to count for something. I might be able to forgive a minor slip.

Provided of course that she agreed to come clean and tell me everything. And I meant EVERYTHING. Including the dude's name and address. Not that I planned on hurting him physically, but if the asshole was married - and people who lives in big mansions tend to be - I planned on seriously messing up his happy home. And if Ruth even TRIED to protect the son of a bitch in any way, our marriage would be cancelled faster than a quality series on the Fox network.

In short, I needed more information before deciding what to do next and I knew just where to get it. At the source. I pulled out my phone and composed a text message to Ruth:

"Ruthie, you have hurt me deeply and I am very angry with you right now. If we are to have any chance of getting past this, I need answers. I will be home in two hours with questions. Some of them will be hard, but if you refuse to answer anything or I catch you in a lie we are done. If these conditions are unacceptable to you, please start packing your personal stuff and make arrangements to move out today. Otherwise I will see you soon. Love Steve."

The reply came almost immediately.

"Ok pls come home. Luv R."

I whipped out my notebook and began brainstorming for questions.

**********

Two hours later we were sitting in the living room. Ruth with her hands in her lap looking like she had cried a lot while I had been gone. I fought an impulse to comfort her. She was the cheater and had no right to break down. Her job was to face the music and I was the band-leader.

I consulted my notes.

"Ok Ruthie, this is it. Ready for some Q and A?"

"Yes Steve. I will answer anything to the best of my ability."

"Did you cheat on me?"

"No."

A bad start. But I moved on in my questionnaire.

"Was it you in that picture having sex with somebody else?"

"Technically yes, but..."

"And how the hell is having sex with some guy behind my back NOT cheating?"

"I didn't do it to have sex with anybody Steve."

I took a deep breath. Ruth was a smart woman and I could tell when I was being given the run-around.

"Ok, lets be explicit then. Did another man beside your wedded husband - that's me, in case you forgot - move his cock back and forth inside your pussy?"

"Well, yes but..."

"Then it WAS extramarital sex Ruthie!"

"If you see it that way."

"Did you orgasm?"

"Sometimes yes, but that is not something I can control."

"Yes you can! By... like... y'know... maybe NOT spreading your friggin legs for the guy in the first place?"

"I had to. I was left no other choice."

"Were you raped?"

"Oh God, no."

"Then WHY? For crying out loud Ruthie!"

"I had no choice Steve," she sobbed. "Please believe me."

Talk about being stone walled. I was boiling with rage, but I sensed my line of questioning was getting me nowhere fast. So I changed the subject.

"Who is he?"

"I don't know."

I closed my notebook and glared at Ruth.

"I warned you that I wouldn't tolerate any lies. Do you expect me to believe that you don't know your lovers name? What kind of fool do you take me for? I think we are done here."

"NO! No, please Steve. I am not lying. I really don't know his name. I never saw him before or since that day."

"You fucked a total stranger?"

"Yes."

"Why Ruthie?"

"I had no choice."

"Because?"

"I was told to."

"Huh? WHO told you to?

"Master."

Ok, THAT was unexpected. What the hell? Was there a second lover involved? I decided to deviate from my script and explore this further.

"Who is Master?"

"He is just Master."

"I want his birth name Ruthie. Like Bob, Joe or Ed."

"I don't know Steve. I only know him as Master."

"He is not the man in the picture? The man you had sex with?"

"No."

"Did he tell you to have sex with the man in the picture?"

"Yes."

I was starting to get a really bad feeling. I most definitely did NOT like where this was going.

"Were you paid for having sex?"

"No."

"Did the man you had sex with pay somebody else for the privilege of fucking you?"

"Yes, I think so."

Crap! She wasn't merely cheating. My wife was a friggin prostitute with a pimp and everything.

"And you will do anything this Master tells you to do? Even sexual stuff?"

"Yes."

"Why the hell Ruth? You are no pushover. You are a mature and educated woman and I have never seen you take any shit from anybody before. Why would you allow some asshat to command you around like that?"

"Because he is Master."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes Steve, with every fiber of my being. Whatever else you may think of me, please believe that."

"How can you love us both?"

"It's not the same. It's a different kind of love. I love the kids too."

Yeah right. What a pile of horseshit. I decided to probe deeper for some straight intel on this Master character.

"Are you on drugs Ruthie? Be honest because I might have you tested."

"Definitely not!"

"How long have you known your pimp?"

"Please don't call him that Steve. His name is Master."

"I will call him whatever the hell I damn well please! To HIS FACE if necessary! Right before I bash it in with a friggin bat and piss on it. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes. You're scaring me Steve."

"Good. So how long have you known him?"

"A very long time."

Ruth looked concentrated for a second, in an apparent effort to come up with a more precise answer.

"Twenty four years, I think. Yes twenty-four. I gave myself to Master twenty four years ago."

Once again I was completely floored. Twenty-four fucking years! This was way out of affair-territory. She had known the bastard for more than half her life. Holy shit. I was more temporary in her life than he was.

"You knew the son of a bitch years before we met?"

"Yes."

"Seriously Ruthie. Why the hell did you hook up with me in the first place if you were in another relationship already?"

"I was not in any relationship Steve."

"But you were having sex with that Master-bozo?"

"I was, yes."

We were running in circles. Ruth was seriously not making any fucking sense! It was as if she truly didn't consider the act of banging that jerkozoid cheating. Was I trapped in the Twilight Zone or something?

"Does your pimp know that you're telling me this?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I called him while you were out and asked permission to tell you everything."

"Did he give you his permission?"

"Yes."

"So this Master decides what you can and cannot do? Even regarding our marriage?"

"In a sense, I suppose. Yes."

"Would you have told me anything, if he had forbidden you to?"

Ruth looked down and mumbled something I didn't quite catch. I decided to push her for a reply.

"Was that a no?"

She nodded.

"What if he had told you to shoot me and drown the kids in the bathtub?"

Ruth starred at me, horrified.

"Oh God Steve! How can you say something like that? He wouldn't! Never!"

I admit I was pushing Ruth to the edge with that question. However her noncommittal answer sent a chill down my spine. I decided to refrain from further exploring that particular venue for now, but the lack of a straight denial did little to endear me to her cause. This had turned into much more than a simple case of spousal infidelity or a bored housewife realising a prostitution fetish.

It never before occurred to me that my loving wife might be dangerous, but suddenly I was no longer so sure. If she was at the beg and call of some controlling cult-leader who had spent a quarter of a century indoctrinating her, who knew what the hell she might do if he commanded her to go whacko? She could potentially turn my house into Jonestown while my back was turned.

I SO needed to know more about that Master-guy. For all I knew, he could be Charles friggin Manson or something!

"If you knew him when we met, what did he think about you marrying me?

"Master approves of you Steve and he loves you too. He gave his blessings to our union. You were his first pick."

Ruth took my hand and smiled warmly.

"And he was right, wasn't he Steve? Aren't we perfect together? Isn't our marriage wonderful? Haven't I made you happy in every way a woman possibly could?"

I pulled my hand back and gave her a cold stare.

"I thought so Ruthie. I truly did. Until a while ago when I realised it was all a scam. For twenty years I have played the fool in yours and your slimy lovers disgusting sex game and I feel violated in ways I can't even BEGIN to describe."

"No! Please don't say that! I love you to death Steve and I always have. I always will. There is nothing fake about our love."

"So you take your wedding vows seriously then?"

"Very much so. You are my husband Steve and I love, honor and respect you."

"Ok, assuming you do. Are you ready to prove that?"

"Yes! Anything Steve. You have but to ask. Whatever you want, I will do it!"

If she expected me to ask for kinky sexual favors, I probably disappointed her with what I came up with.

"Very well. Here is what we will do then. A clean break and a clean slate. Tabula rasa. You go get the cockroach on the phone RIGHT NOW and tell him - in my presence - to leave you the fuck alone. In the future you are not to contact him in any way. If he tries to contact you, we will file a harassment suit against him. Tomorrow I am putting the house on the market and we can start planning our move to the other end of the country. Rebuild our marriage together in a new place, only the two of us and the kids. No pimp and no lovers. What do you say Ruthie?"

"Steve... I can't."

I had expected that, so I wasn't surprised. Besides I had no friggin intentions of moving anywhere. The kids had their school and friends here. I hadn't done shit to deserve this and I'd be damned if I was going run away from some prick. I had NEVER backed down from a fight in my life, and at the tender age of forty-five I wasn't about to change that. But my suggestion was a quick way of gauging the depth of Ruth's commitment to our marriage. So far I wasn't impressed.

"Not gonna happen, eh Ruthie?"

Ruth just looked at me with teary eyes and said nothing.

"If I demand that you to choose between him or your family right here and now, you will choose him? Is that what you are saying?"

She didn't answer but her silence was all the reply I needed. I felt red-hot rage surge through my veins and was getting close to losing it. This wasn't just about me anymore. Would my obviously insane wife seriously have walked out on her kids at the whim of some asshole? OUR kids?

"ANSWER ME!" I roared.

"I... I..." she jumped up and ran sobbing out of the kitchen.

I heard the bedroom door slam shut followed by muffled sounds of crying. Hell I felt like crying myself, but what good would that do?

Instead I grabbed my coat and left again. My marriage may just have blown up in my face, but I was getting hungry and needed a time-out from Ruth and her nauseating pity party. Going out for dinner sounded to me like the perfect solution to both problems.

*********

Upon returning to my humble abode I was hit by a hundred and twenty pound female cannonball that came charging down the stairs before I even got a foot inside the door.

"You came back! Thank God you came back! I thought you had left me! I thought I had lost you forever!"

I won't lie. Her enthusiasm made me feel good. But I gently untangled myself from her embrace. I had more hard questions that needed answering and my meal had not quenched my anger over her betrayal and her continued dedication to her pimp.

Soon we were comfortably seated in the living room, ready to continue our talk.

"Tell me more about Pimpy-dimpy Ruthie. How did he get his grubby little claws in you in the first place?"

"I have known Master since my high school days, but only as a teacher. I didn't accept him as Master until after my eighteenth birthday. The day Lou-Anne Darnell was reborn as Ruth Masters."

"Huh? You weren't actually born Ruth?"

"No. I was given a new name when I accepted Master."

"He was a teacher at your high school?"

"Yes. As a substitute professor."

Figured. The guy had obviously signed up as a substitute teacher at a school in order to groom young girls for a future career in his ring of prostitution. I swore to myself right there and then that whatever else may happen in the future I was gonna flush that turd, if it was the last thing I ever did on this earth.

"Did you start whoring for your new pimp right away?"

"Steve..."

"Answer!"

"Having sex with selected people was my assigned task, yes."

"How many?"

"Once a week usually. Mostly I would simply be their escort to events or parties. If they wanted sex, I obliged of course."

"Of course. And you fucked this Master too."

"Yes."

"How often?"

"Not often. I was never his favorite."

Christ! She actually looked SAD when she said that! What the hell had I been married to for twenty years? I didn't know the person in front of me at all.

"When did you last fuck him?"

"I don't recall when he last called on me to service him personally. I am no longer so..."

Should I be cruel to Ruth? Hell, why not?

"Young? Attractive? Fresh? Innocent? Wrinkle free?"

She cringed. Yeah, it was a cheap one but it felt good.

"It's not my age that made him reject me. Master prefers to call on more... well... voluptuous girls. I was never like that Steve. My breasts were never to his liking, not even back then."

So the pimp was a boob-man. Interesting, considering that Ruth was tall, slim and athletic. Even after two kids, her boobs were hardly more than a handful each. Exactly the way I liked them - I never found an excess of blubber attractive on a woman - but apparently Mr. Pimpy was of a different opinion. This told me that he had likely targeted Ruth as a potential prostitute from the very beginning. He fucked her, but was never attracted to her. He was straight up using her just like she had been using me.

I was SO going to enjoy bagging that sack of shit!

"I think I need to have a talk with your pimp, Ruthie. After all, we do seem to have a lot in common. His address please?"

"I am not permitted to tell. Sorry Steve."

"No problem. It should be here in the investigators file. Ah yes - we can be there in less than an hour. There is even a phone number here. Awesome. Maybe I should call and say hi?"

"Steve! No! Please let me call. I will say what you want, but let me do it."

"Very well Ruthie. I will leave the arrangements up to you, since I would probably waste my phone bill cursing the shithead out anyway. Tell him that we are going to meet within the next few days. It can be on his terms OR he can have me show up with a valid excuse to kick his door down and punch his face in. But either way we ARE going to meet."