The Outside Beer Party

"I see."

"What does that mean, you see?"

"Well, Abby, what did you expect me to say? That I understand? Because sure as hell I don't understand why you would go out with Amy on the day before I'm due back in town, knowing that I could conceivably come home even a little early, so we could spend as much time together before I have to leave for Savannah. And then you consciously get so drunk that you can't even make it home by two o'clock the next afternoon."

Again there was a long silence. "I'm going to hang up now. This is getting old."

Then I hear a faint sob, "Marty, look, I'm sorry. I know you're pissed, but all your traveling and being away from home is getting to me. Last night I was having so much fun with Amy and her friends, it just got away with me. But I'm sorry. Okay? Really truly sorry. I love you so much and I miss you and I don't want you to be mad at me, please. I just couldn't bear it if you're so mad at me."

"Abby, you know how I feel about Amy and how you get when you go out with her. You act sometimes like you're not even married. You just act like she wants you to, instead of acting like my wife. And I'll tell you right now, I'm tired of it. I'm good and damn sick and tired of it." At this point, I heard her sharp intake of breath, so I knew what was coming.

"Damn you, Marty, that's not true and you know it. And why do you always have to go off on Amy? She's my sister, my oldest and dearest friend and she's blood," and she took another breath to start in some more.

Before she could take off on her rant, I overrode her. "Abby, I'm going to tell you something right now. You'd better listen to me and listen damn good. You say that you love me and you don't want me to be mad at you. I'm very pissed at you right now, and I'm fed up with how you let Amy control you when you're with her. The time has come for you to make a choice. I will not tolerate what happened this weekend ever again. Do you hear me? DO YOU HEAR ME? You say you love me and only me, that you can't live without me. Well, if that's true, I'll tell you that you'd better get your heart right with god."

"What do mean? What are you saying?"

"I'm going to Savannah; I'll start my security inspection a day early, and finish up by Wednesday or Thursday morning at the latest. I'll call you when I start home. I'll expect you to be there waiting on my call. When I get home, we'll talk about this past weekend. I'll expect you to tell me truthfully, and in detail where you were this weekend, what you did, and who you did it with. I'm giving you right now a 'get out of jail' free card. If you tell me the truth, the whole and complete truth about where you were, what you did and who with, we might get through this with our marriage intact."

"What the hell do you mean talking to me this way, Marty? I'm not your child. Amy was right today. She said that you never want me to have any fun; that you treat me just like a child."

"Abby, you just remember what I said. I'll not talk to you again until I start back, but you'd better think long and hard on what I've just said," and I hung up. I expected her to call right back, and sure enough, my cell phone started chiming right away. I just let it go to voice mail, which I promptly deleted.

I got into Savannah late that evening, and checked into the hotel where I generally stayed while I was in town. Once I had eaten some supper, I went back to my room, got on their high-speed internet access and logged into my VPN at work. I checked into the home security system recording disk.

Sure enough, as soon as Abby finished her rant at me for hanging up on her, she called Amy. Her tone to Amy, however, was rather different than I expected.

"Amy, I just got off the phone with Marty. He's already on the way to Savannah. {..} No, no, he's really pissed. He's acting like he suspects something about this weekend." {..}

"Damn it, Amy, this is not funny, and no, I'm not being paranoid. I've never seen him like this before. I don't know why I let you talk into what happened on Saturday. {..} Well, yes, I did enjoy it once we got going, but I'm really feeling very guilty now. {..} No, you're just saying that, but I know Marty. He is not screwing around on me when he's out of town, so don't go there. This is not about getting even with him. {..}

"No, no, don't come over. I'm going to bed now. I'm still feeling sick and hung over. What the hell did you two put in my drinks anyway?" {..} No, I'll be alright, and I don't feel like any company now, even if it's just you. I've got to go to the library tomorrow. I'm filling in for Myrna Speeling. I'll call you when I get home. Yeah, love you too. I'll talk to you later."

Well, that was certainly an enlightening conversation, but still not what I needed to know. Did Abby let Charles fuck her? If so, was it in our bedroom, in our bed? If so, how many times? How did this happen? These questions kept running around in my head like so many little squirrels on a treadmill. I finally got bourbon out of the mini-bar and chased it with water and two Tylenol PM tablets so that I was able to drift off to sleep.

For the next two days, I concentrated on work during the day, coordinating with our commercial clients' security systems and our home office inspection agenda, and basically staying busy enough that I could forget for some hours what my home life had become. I checked the home system log about 10:00 p.m., as I noted that Abby was already in bed by herself. Interestingly enough, it looked like she had changed the bed linens. She had not called Amy from home, nor had Amy called her. I didn't know what, if any conversations they may have had from work, but truth to tell, I wasn't too concerned since Abby was working at the main undergraduate library.

On Tuesday evening, Amy called Abby around 6:30 and tried to get Abby to meet her at the Last Drop. Abby wouldn't go, saying that she was worried about what Randy may say or think. Amy said that they could meet somewhere else. Amy apparently knew of a great new place up in midtown where a lot of the professional baseball players hung out. Abby told Amy that she was still tired, and she was again going to bed early, which she did.

It had appeared that I could finish up Wednesday, but at the last minute, one of the servers at our best commercial client decided to freeze up, so I was there until almost eight p.m., getting everything fixed and the full scanning and monitoring system fully back on line. I was worn out, so I decided to order in a pizza and some beer and get to bed early myself.

Truthfully I was dreading Thursday's conversation, even confrontation, with Abby. I almost didn't even check into the security system, since Abby had passed on going out the night before, and she knew that there was certainly a chance that I might come back into town that evening in any event. At the last moment, I decided to check in and confirm everything was okay, and then get to bed early, so that I could leave really early in the morning.

I logged on into the system, and the first indication that I had of a pending problem was Amy's apparent call to Abby. "Hello? Oh, hey, sis. What? No, nothing really. I'm sort of expecting Marty to call. Why? {..} No, I'm not sitting home like a good little girl, as you say; Amy, I want to be here to talk to him when he calls {..} Why? I'll tell you why. Because I have this really strong sense that my marriage is in bad trouble [at this point, I'm nodding yes]. No, I don't really need any company. {..} Oh, alright, if you're already on the way, just come on. But don't start with me. When Marty calls, I'm going to talk to him, and try to get us back on track. {..} Okay, I'll see you in a few then."

There was nothing more for a while, then the doorbell rang, and Abby let Amy in. They talked in the kitchen for a short while, then Amy made some margueritas and they went into the front room, sat and talked while drinking. They had just about finished the pitcher before Abby told Amy that she needed to do a couple of things before she went to bed, when the doorbell rang again. I could hear Amy as she smirked, "Oh, I wonder who that can be?"

"Amy, what have you done?"

"Nothing, sis. Just some friends of mine who've dropped by to pick me up, since you won't go out with me."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll talk to you later then, I'll let you run on," Abby said, as Amy walked to the door. Amy opened the door, and Charles and another black man walked into my house. All of a sudden, I was wide awake and alert, as I noted the time was almost an hour ago.

I fast forwarded in short segments, as I could see Abby and Amy apparently quarrelling in the kitchen, then Amy and Abby mixing drinks for Charles and the other man, whose name I could hear was Ed. I fast forwarded again, and I see Amy and Charles sitting on our couch, and they begin kissing. I fast forward, then suddenly I notice that the backup alert blinks momentarily, to indicate that the in-house monitoring system is being deactivated. I check the sensor monitors. It's in our bedroom and it can only be Abby. I fast forwarded again, and I see Abby and Charles in the master bedroom and again they are kissing passionately, Charles undressing Abby, and then her undressing him.

He is going down on her, then they kissed wildly, passionately, as Abby spread for him and then guided him into her apparently wide open wetness. I'm now within a few minutes of the actual real time, so I picked up my cell phone and called the home number. I could see and hear Abby freeze up in her movements, as she said to Charles, "Oh, shit, that's my husband. Be quiet. I need to talk to him."You've got to be kidding me, she doesn't even make him pull out of her.

"Hello," Abby says in a small quivery voice.

"Abby, did I catch you in the middle of something?"

"Uuh, I don't what you mean. I mean, no. Where are you?"

"I'm still in Savannah, but I'm packing up to return. Abby, are you alone?"

"Alone? What you mean? Who did you think might be here?"

"Abby, this is a simple 'yes' or 'no' question. Are you alone? And, damn it, I won't ask it again." I watched her face, as she tried now to move Charles off and out of her, although he's not really cooperating.

"Hold on, honey. I need to turn off the TV now." She finally pushed him and got him to move out of her with an audible plop.

"Abby, that was a strange noise. What was that?"

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. Something I ate. I just passed some gas."

Charles is laughing silently as the bed shakes from his movements.

"Abby, for the last time, are you alone or not? Answer my question."

"No, okay? I'm not, okay? Amy is here visiting."

"Ok, just you and Amy then. No one else there. No one, right?"

"Marty, why are you acting like this? What's wrong with you?"

"Abby, I guess then the answer to my question is no, you and Amy are not alone, and I'm acting like this because your 'get out of jail free' card just got taken away. By the way, you know that the house belongs to my company, right, because we have all those great security bells and whistles installed in the house. And, oh, did I ever mention to you that when I activate the system from my office, you cannot deactivate it from home, and I can log in to our home system in every room, both audio and video from anywhere on the planet that there is a high-speed internet connection, like, for example, right now the one here in my hotel room. So, Abby, smile. You're not on Candid Camera, but you're going to wish you were."

And I hung up as Abby screamed out, "NOOOO!"

I could see Charles jump out of bed startled by her scream, and then Amy came running into the room and went to Abby, asking her what was the matter. By then, Abby is in full-blown hysterics, sobbing and screaming out to Amy, "He knows! Marty knows. He's taping us right now."

"What are you talking about? What do you mean, 'Marty knows'? How can he know?"

"Our home security system is on. He's watching us in real time now. That was him! I told you! I told you he was going to call tonight. Get out now! All of you, get out! I've got to call him. I've got to explain this to him, to tell him how much I love. I've got to tell him how sorry I am. GET OUT! GET OUT NOW! Amy, that means you, too. Get out of my house."

Abby picked up her cell phone and ran into the bathroom and locked the door. She then tried to dial my cell phone. In the meantime, Amy was hustling both men into getting dressed and out of the house, while still trying to talk to Abby.

Abby finally got my speed dial connection, but I let it go to voice mail, since I could hear what she was saying.

"Marty, please pick up. Oh, god, please pick up. I'm so sorry. Please let me talk to you. Oh, Marty, this is my biggest ever screw up, but you know how much I love you. You're the only man for me. Please don't let this ruin us. Please, Marty."

I cut the live feed and let monitoring recording go to my VPN connection straight to the disk backup at the office. I'd had all I could stand for one night. I turned off my cell phone, and lay down on top of the covers and I finally drifted off to sleep.

Thursday morning came with wispy streamers of fog, and a gray overcast sky; a totally suitable day for how I was feeling. I had planned on a very early start, but now there was no real reason to rush back. At just after nine o'clock, I called James Scott, my company's attorney, and told him to get started on the divorce paperwork that I had talked to him about on Monday of that week.

I then called home to talk to Abby. I didn't bother to turn on the live feed, as I had absolutely no desire to see her even one more time. "Abby, it's me."

"Oh, thank god, Marty, thank you for calling. Marty, I'm so sorry..." I interrupted her.

"Abby, be quiet and listen to me. I just called to tell you this. I don't want to hear about how sorry you are. You and your sister are two of a kind. I tried to tell you, but you didn't want to listen. Well, now, whatever Amy wanted to accomplish, she has, and you fell right into it. So don't tell me you're sorry, or that you love me, or that it won't happen again, or anything else, because I don't want to hear it."

"What I do want is this. I want you out of my company's house before I get home today. I've already forwarded the DVD's of last night's little fuck fest in my home, in my bedroom, and in my bed to my attorney and he's getting the divorce papers filed today. So trust me on this, you really don't want to be in that house when I get home. So get your slutty sister to take you in. You're now free to fuck whoever and whenever you want, just like her."

"Marty, please, please listen ..."

"Abby, what part of what I just told you did you not understand? Get out of my house. You can arrange with your attorney to get the rest of your belongings later, but you'd better be gone when I get there." I hung up, finished packing, arranged to have the DVD backups delivered to James Scott for his review and his use in the final preparation of the divorce pleadings.

When I got home, Abby was gone, as were most of her clothes and her personal items. The bed in the master bedroom had clean linens on it, and the old linens I never saw again. As if it were only that simple.

After that Wednesday, Abby called the office virtually on a daily basis, at least once a day, trying to get me to sit down and talk to her. She even came by our office until my attorney told her attorney that we would get a restraining order if that was what it would take to stop what we characterized as her harassment. Once her attorney saw the DVD's, there was little talk of stopping the divorce. The talks became more of how can we settle this whole mess.

I did have an interesting encounter one evening at the Last Drop; well, two encounters actually over a two week period or so. The first was about a week after that Wednesday night, when I was sitting talking to Randy and Bill Stephens, my partner, about upgrading Randy's security system. We had only briefly mentioned my situation with Abby and our pending split-up, and Amy and Charles' part in the mess, when Charles walked in the front door.

Bart Weatherly, Randy's partner and part-time bouncer started after him as it became apparent that Charles was coming over to our table.

Charles walked up to our table and said, "Hey, dude, I'm sorry for what happened. It was just one of those things, you know."

I just looked at him and didn't say anything.

He continued, "But I got to say, I hope you don't work things out because I want to continue to see her."

I stood up then, pushing back my chair, as Charles grinned at me. I walked toward him and faked a punch toward him and then gave him my best forearm shot. I guess those four years as an outside linebacker for my college team weren't wasted after all. They told me that I broke his jaw in two places, and that he'd be drinking and eating out of a straw for about six weeks. Well, at least there would not be any open mouth kissing with Abby, not that I gave a rat's ass anyway. Funny thing, there were four witnesses who stated that Charles threw the first punch. Go figure.

The next strange or funny encounter took place about a week or so after that, also in the Last Drop. This time Randy and I had finished eating (I was spending a lot of off-time with Randy, just talking about really nothing at all), when Amy walked in, and after seeing where we were sitting walked up to our table. I stood up just as Amy got to the table. Randy told her that she was no longer welcome in his place and that she needed to leave. Amy looked at both of us and asked if she could just talk to me for a moment. Randy looked at me, and I nodded that it was okay.

I sat back down, as did Randy, leaving Amy standing there. "Can I at least sit down, please?"

"Not at this table you can't. You're no friend of mine, and you're not going to be here that long. Say what you came to say."

"Okay, I guess I deserved that."

"No," I interrupted her, "you deserve a lot more than that, but I don't hit women."

"Yeah, I've heard about Charles, so I guess he had that coming also. Anyway I'm here not to ask you to forgive me, but to ask you to at least talk to Abby. She's quit eating, she sits at home and cries, she never goes out. I'm really worried about her, about what she might do."

"Amy, if you were worried about Abby, really worried, you wouldn't have led her into what you led her into. You deliberately tried to turn her into a black cock slut like yourself, and you succeeded. And now you're worried about her? That's just a little too late."

"That was cold, but again, I guess I deserve it. But if she ever meant anything to you, please at least talk with her."

"Amy, I gave her the last chance to talk that I was going to give that Sunday, when I already knew what you and she and your black fuck buddies had done. I gave her the chance to confess it, and give us at least the chance to move on. Instead she blew me off, and then you tempted her again on Wednesday. You and her both knowing I was going to call her, you deliberately tempted her again, and then she let that black asshole fuck her again. From then on, there was no going back, no talking, no forgiveness; there was simply nothing else to say. Abby said it all, when she went into that bedroom with Charles and attempted to deactivate the home security video monitors."

"Okay, well, at least I tried. I can tell Abby that. So whatever happens now is on your head."

Now, I finally lost it, "Fuck you, you black cock sucking bitch. Whatever happens is on your head and don't you ever believe otherwise. You turned her into miniyou, just another black cock loving slut, so get the fuck out here, and stay the fuck out of my life."