Week from Hell Ch. 02

This is a continuation of "The Week From Hell". To get the full flavor of the story, I would recommend that you read that first, if you haven't already.

The Week From Hell -- Sara's Story

My name is Sara Moss, and I am married to Tom Moss -- or at least I am married to him in name -- we haven't lived together for several months, and it is all my fault.

Tom is a manager for a group of field service engineers. I am a senior purchasing agent for an entirely different company. Unfortunately, as you will see, we also resell products from Tom's company after adding in extras to justify the price increase.

Tom's boss, John, retired about a year and a half ago, maybe a little more than that, we were both excited about the prospect that Tom could take over John's position, and I know that Tom, as he put it, had his nose out of joint when someone from the outside was brought in to replace John.

Anyway, a little over a year ago, I met Keith, Tom's new boss at one of the company parties. Greg, the CEO had always seemed to feel that Tom's company should be somewhat like a family, so he put on several events every year, often including purchasing agents and other outside people so that the "family" could meet with them and make sure that everything was as smooth as could be. It seemed to work, because everyone I talked to seemed to feel that working with Tom's company was a pleasure.

In any event, I met Keith, and although he didn't initially seem to quite get it that I was Tom's wife, he was quite gracious, charming, and in all ways a gentleman.

It was a month or two later that Keith called me and invited me out to lunch to talk over any issues we might have with their products, and to ask me for any input I might have into how they could improve their product.

I knew that Tom thought that Keith was a "slimy, back-stabbing bastard", but I also thought that this was a chance to bring up several issues that we had wanted to be resolved for quite some time. The fact that I knew Tom had brought these same issues up to his management really didn't cross my mind, or at least I don't think it did. If it had, I probably would have written it off and thought that maybe if it comes in from two different directions, it would be received differently.

In any event, I accepted, and we started meeting for lunch. At first it was only every month or so, but as time went on, it evolved into lunch every two or three weeks, but I think I am getting ahead of myself here.

Over time, I begin to think of Keith as a friend. He was always gracious, charming, and a complete gentleman. There was never the slightest hint that he was interested in anything other than the good of the two companies.

After a few months, our lunches begin to take on a bit of a personal note. Keith would talk about how hard his job was with the engineers going off, and as he put it, "using company travel as an excuse to see their girl friends." This was always followed up by him saying that he was absolutely sure that Tom wasn't doing that, but that a number of the other engineers were. I do remember him telling me that he was actually getting ready to fire one of his managers, Bob, because his wife had found out that he was seeing someone on the side when he traveled, and he didn't want to expose the company to a potential lawsuit.

I knew Bob rather vaguely, and knew his wife Shirley a little bit better, and was surprised to hear this, as I had thought that Bob and Shirley had a very good marriage going, and Bob didn't seem to me to be the type to be playing around.

Keith was also always on about how wonderful Tom was and how he didn't know how he would do without him. He told me how Tom was always volunteering to take these trips to the suppliers whenever anything went wrong, and how much he really appreciated it.

We often talked about what plans we had for the coming weeks, and I discovered that Keith had an affinity for the arts that Tom really didn't have. Oh Tom would make sure to take me to anything that I wanted to go to, but I knew that he would be much happier staying home, or perhaps going out to dinner and dancing.

I found out that Keith was an orphan like my sister Tara and I were. It seemed like a small world. I knew that my parents had been killed in some kind of an accident, and our foster parents adopted my fraternal twin and me. I really didn't have a lot of interest in pursuing that, although Tara, my twin, was really into finding out about our family. Keith had also been adopted as a small child, but his adoptive parents had died before he turned twenty-one.

Every so often, Keith would call about a lunch meeting that we had planned, and tell me that he couldn't make it for whatever reason, and ask if we could substitute dinner, as he knew Tom was going to be out of town on one of his trips. I really didn't think anything about it; it was just another meeting to me, so I would tell him sure, not a problem.

My relationship with Tom had been rock solid until he started volunteering for these trips. At first I tried to keep my mouth shut, because I felt that these trips would be good for his career, and I didn't want to be the whiney wife that got in the way of his career. But as time went on I got more and more frustrated with his job, and to be honest, with Tom. We would have a great weekend planned, or a get-away to some place, and he would have to go to some supplier to get a problem straightened out. Hearing from Keith that he was volunteering for these special trips just made things that much harder for me to deal with.

When I would say something to Tom about it, he would tell me that he really didn't have a choice, and with two kids in college, he didn't feel that he could just quit his job and go looking for something new. The last part I agreed with, because we had a daughter and a son in college, and the expense was simply taking everything we had between the two of us to keep them there.

But I know I was turning a bit bitchy. It seemed like almost every single time we had something planned, he would volunteer to go off on one of his trips. I had even asked Keith if he could try to get Tom to cut back on the trips, but Keith told me that he really couldn't do anything about it, as Tom was always letting Greg know that he was volunteering, and it would cause problems for Keith if he did.

I was really looking forward to our 25th anniversary, and was quite pleased when Tom told me he had already gotten three days of vacation approved so that he wouldn't have to go on a trip. The play he had gotten tickets to was one I really wanted to see, and I had thought that this was going to be a wonderful anniversary, with an extended weekend, letting us perhaps get back to the life we had known before Tom had had to start traveling so much.

When Tom came home the day before our anniversary, and told me that he had to leave early the next morning to go to a supplier, I was livid. I was beyond anger; I was hurt, I felt that Tom was putting his job far before our marriage; I was almost speechless with my rage. For the first time I begin to really think that maybe Tom was like the rest of the engineers, and had someone on the side. Tom tried to talk to me, but I wasn't having any of it. Finally Tom went up to bed about 10:00, and I stayed downstairs because I simply didn't want to be where he could touch me. When Tom got up the next morning, about 2:30, I simply pretended to be half asleep, and when Tom leaned over to kiss me goodbye, I was less than responsive, still pretending to be almost asleep.

Keith called me that morning at work, saying he knew it was short notice, but wondering if we could go to lunch. I didn't think anything about it, and as I had already cleared my desk pretty much for our vacation, I really didn't have a whole lot to do, although I had cancelled my vacation that I was planning to take with Tom.

When I met Keith for lunch, he was as gracious and charming as ever. We talked about a few things, and then Keith told me that he seemed to recall that we had an anniversary coming up pretty soon. I told him that this was our 25th anniversary, and Keith seemed to be a bit surprised, saying that he wouldn't have thought that Tom would volunteer to take a trip on such an important family day. Then he immediately changed the subject, but he had brought all my anger, hurt and suspicions back to me.

The upshot? I invited Keith to go to the theatre with me. Keith accepted, after asking if I was sure that there wasn't someone else I would rather take. He then suggested that I change at his place, as it was on the way to the theatre, and that way we could take one car instead of two.

I didn't even think about it, I simply agreed. After all, I hated changing in the ladies room at work, and I knew I wasn't going to have time to go home, get dressed and get to the theatre before the play started.

When I got to Keith's apartment, he was the perfect gentleman, showing me to the extra bedroom, and immediately leaving to finish getting dressed himself.

I used Tom's ticket to get Keith into the play, and during intermission he bought me a glass of wine. When the play was over, I got into Keith's sports car, and he invited me to dinner, saying that he thought that would help pay me back for a wonderful evening at the theatre.

We had dinner, and I had one drink and a glass of wine, but nothing more. When Keith took me back to his place to get my things, I went into the spare bedroom, changed back into my work clothes, had everything in my arms and came out into the living room. Keith had poured a brandy for each of us, and insisted that I have a brandy for the close of the evening.

I swear to God, I have no idea how the hell I wound up in Keith's bed. I wasn't drunk, I don't think that Keith drugged my drink, and my therapist doesn't think that he did either. The best the therapist can come up with is that I simply have blocked it out of my mind, although why I would do that, and not block out all the rest of that night, I cannot imagine. The only reason I can think of, and it isn't a very good one, or even a rational one, is that I was so mad at Tom, and so hurt that he would go off on our anniversary, that I simply decided to get revenge. That seems to me to be out of character for me, but I don't have a better explanation.

All I can really remember is being in bed with him, while he did the most wonderful things to my body. It was like every nerve in my body was super sensitive. I can remember him licking me, his finger inside me while he nibbled and sucked on my nipples, often making his teeth graze my nipple, which sent chills down my spine, while his fingers played with my clit, and stroked the roof of my vagina. I remember him sucking and nibbling on my clit while his fingers inside me were driving me crazy. I must have cum at least three times, but I would bet it was more, probably four or five times. When he finally entered me, I came almost at once, and can remember that I was pulling him into me, doing my best to make sure that I had every single bit of him inside me.

When he finally came, I could feel the warm sperm shooting inside me, and it sent me over the edge one more time. He was a gentleman, resting on his elbows afterwards, but I didn't let him stay that way for long. I brought his head down to my chest, and he nuzzled my breasts while we simply went to sleep after a long, hard, session.

The next morning, I was having the most wonderful dream of Tom making love to me, and before I knew it, Keith was inside me again, when I finally opened my eyes and realized that it wasn't Tom, I went kind of nuts, trying to push Keith off me, but I had waited too long, and as I finally managed to push him off, he erupted into my pubic hair and across my stomach. I jumped out of bed, and cleaned up as best I could without taking a shower. I just wanted out of that damned apartment.

I knew that I had to get home and change my clothes, as well as take a shower. I smelled like sex -- not just a little bit, but I reeked of sex. Christ, I still had his semen drying around my vagina.

I threw on my clothes, which were strewn around the room, and dashed out to the car to get home. On the way home it hit me, I had just had sex with a man that was not my husband, and even worse it was my husband's boss. I had no excuses; I had just done about everything I could to fuck up my marriage. Whether Tom was having affairs may have been a question, but I certainly had.

I made it into the house, managing to get to the toilet before I threw up. After heaving my guts out for longer than I even wanted to think about, I took a shower, trying to scrub myself clean, although I didn't think I could ever get clean.

I dressed in a hurry, and got to the office about 9:30, late for my meeting with my boss, who expressed his displeasure in no uncertain terms. I apologized, and we got to work on the planned agenda. The meeting was over a little before 11:00, and I went back to my office to find a dozen roses, mixed red and yellow. At first I thought it was from Tom, but then I read the card, which read: "Loved last night. I will remember it for many years."

I started to throw the flowers into the trash, then decided I better not, that would cause more comment that if I just left them on my desk. I was trying to figure out what I was going to do, when I remembered I had shut my cell phone off last night for the play, and never turned it back on. I turned it on, and almost immediately it rang. I answered, and heard Tom's voice.

"Where have you been, I've been worried sick about you. I tried calling you last night, and then again this morning. You've had your cell turned off, and I couldn't find you. Christ, I've even been calling the Sheriff's department and the Highway Patrol."

I panicked and said the first thing that came to mind:

"I went to the play you so generously provided for my entertainment, then went on to dinner, then to bed. Without my husband, I might add."

I knew my voice sounded angry, but I wasn't really as angry as I sounded, I was scared, and had just said the first thing that popped into my head. We said a few more words to each other, and then hung up.

I managed to get through most of the work day, but finally about 4:30 or 4:45, I gave it up for a bad job, and left, taking the flowers with me. I drove a few blocks, found a dumpster, and threw the flowers in, swearing to myself I was never going to put myself into that kind of a situation again. All the way home I kept praying to God: "Please don't let Tom find out. Please God. Please."

I walked into the house about 5:30, and found Tom there, which I more or less expected, although it was a little early for him to be home, considering that he had been out of town.

I kissed Tom, and apologized for being short with him that morning, explaining that I had had a bad morning, and had been a bit frazzled.

Tom didn't say much, just made two drinks, and handed me one.

Then he hit me with it.

"Let me tell you a little story."

I knew immediately that Tom knew something, I just didn't know how much. When the children were little, probably starting about when they were 3 or 4, Tom would do the same thing to them when they were in trouble. As Tom explained to me the first time he did it, he felt that it was just easier to lay all his cards on the table. It prevented the kids from trying to lie their way out of whatever trouble they were in, and just fess up.

He told me how his trip to the supplier had been a waste of time, and that he had tried to meet me at the play, driven around looking for me, and finally had gone home, to wake up this morning without me there.

"So now, what can you tell me about where the hell you were last night?"

I had already started crying while Tom was telling me his "little story," and as I wiped my eyes with my hand, I could see mascara all over my fingers.

For a few moments I couldn't talk, I tried to, but I couldn't, I just couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. I finished the drink in about two swallows, got up and got another one, bringing the bottle back to the living room where we were sitting.

"Keith had called a couple of days ago, inviting me to lunch today and I had agreed. When we got to lunch, I was still pretty angry at you about the anniversary and you being out of town. We were talking during lunch, and Keith mentioned that he thought you had said we had an anniversary coming up. I told him that it was yesterday, and he said that he was quite surprised that you had volunteered to go on this supplier trip when it was our anniversary."

"That set me off again, and I thought what the hell, so I invited Keith to go to the play with me. I explained that I had brought a change of clothes with me to work, and that I would change at work, and meet him at the theatre."

"Keith said he would have to go home to change, then suggested that I meet him at his place because it was right on the way to the theatre, and offered to drive us, so we wouldn't have to get parking for two cars. He also offered the use of his spare bedroom for me to change in."

"I agreed, thinking that it would certainly be easier to change in his spare bedroom, than in the ladies room at work."

"When the play was over, Keith invited me to dinner, telling me that at least he could pay me back for the ticket for the play, and besides, on an important day like that, I shouldn't be alone."

"We went to dinner, had a drink before dinner, then shared a bottle of wine during dinner. I might have had a bit too much, but I certainly wasn't drunk. When we got back to Keith's place, I went in to get my things, and when I came back out, Keith had poured us both a glass of brandy, and insisted that we share it before I went home. One thing led to another, and I wound up in Keith's bed with him."

"I really don't know how or why I wound up in Keith's bed. I remember little bits and pieces, but none of them add up to my getting into bed with Keith."

I went on, and explained as I have above about how our relationship had developed, and how I had gotten so hurt, angry and upset about the repeated trips that Tom had volunteered for instead of going with me to the different things we had planned.

Tom was just stony faced, not saying a word until I finished. Then he went and got his laptop, turned it on, and brought it to me. He showed me an email from Keith that basically said that either he went on this trip, or he was in major trouble as far as his job was concerned. Then Tom told me that he had never volunteered for any of the trips, not a single one.

Things didn't get any better that evening. Eventually I got up and went and took a shower, scrubbing myself to see if I could scrub the betrayal off my body, but I couldn't seem to.

I didn't sleep well at all that night, and finally got up, took another shower, again trying to scrub myself clean, without succeeding, then made breakfast for the two of us. At least I could make up for the missed dinner the previous night.

Tom asked about the long showers, and I just told him that I didn't feel clean, and couldn't seem to get clean. I also told him I had made a horrible error in judgment, that I loved him, and I asked him if he could forgive me. He basically told me he didn't know.

Two weeks later I moved out of the house. Tom didn't throw me out, although he could certainly have justified that. It was just that Tom was so cold, so withdrawn, I didn't feel that I could continue living like that, and it wasn't proper for me to ask him to leave. I had asked Tom to go to counseling with me, but he refused, telling me that unless he was willing to forgive, he saw absolutely no reason to waste his time.