What a MessbyBlue88©
It was a beautiful fall evening. The sun had just started to dip below the horizon and there was a warm glow that pervaded the area...but, there seemed to be waves of angst emanating from 77 Wistful Vista Lane. Was all not right with the family that resided there?
Marty Kramer sat back from the table, a smile of contentment on his puss, and patted his stomach as he gazed lovingly at his wife. "Honey, that was absolutely delicious. I just love your lasagna, it's a prize winner."
Rita smiled at him perfunctorily, something that was not unnoticed by her husband. "What?" he sputtered. "That was a compliment, whattya want? Now even compliments are not enough? What, I gotta kiss your ass too?"
His face had reddened as his blood pressure rose and he fought to contain his anger.
Rita rose, looked at him contemptuously and started to gather the now empty dishes. "I'm not getting into this with you now, Marty. Calm yourself down and go into the den. Pick up your favorite plaything, you know, the tv remote and make believe it's alive," she snarled.
"Make love to the damn tv set, Marty. Stick that limp thing you call a dick into the speaker. Maybe you'll get an electric shock and it'll get hard for a change, although I'm not sure you'll even remember what to do with it if that ever did happen. " She turned, dishes in hand, and stomped into the kitchen, not bothering to look back at her husband who was struggling to contain himself.
Marty sat there for a couple of minutes, willing himself to relax and not throw something through a window, struggling to catch his breath and regulate his breathing. "Jeez," he finally muttered as he rose to his feet. Making his way into the den, he in fact did pick up the remote but put it down again before sitting down in his recliner. He leaned over and put his head in his hands.
"What the fuck does she want from me. It's the same old shit again and again - there's no end to it." he muttered to himself. "Married over 22 fuckin' years and it's all turning to shit. She's fuckin' around and I gotta go through this shit. Like she probably isn't getting her ashes hauled regularly? George not getting the job done anymore?" and his stomach clenched as that thought entered his mind. "Thank goodness the girls are away at school so they won't have to be in the middle of this crap."
Marty's mind drifted back to THAT weekend. They were supposed to go to the lake cabin that George, his brother-in-law, had inherited just a few years before. Rita's sister, Kate, and she had planned a long weekend for just the four of them. Plans went awry when Marty found that he had to be present for a commercial closing on the Friday that they were scheduled to leave. There was just too much money involved to not be there.
Rita had understood, she also knew how much was involved and they made plans for her to drive up with her sister and George with their baggage and Marty would join them as early as he could on Saturday. He figured that he would get at least the two days up there.
Fortunately - or not - Marty was able to complete the transaction quickly and decided to make the drive up later that evening. He thought that even though he would arrive well past bedtime, he could slip in and surprise Rita, fool that he turned out to be.
The drive was uneventful and, as he thought, he arrived a bit after midnight. He moved silently to the door, removed his shoes so as not to waken anyone, and quietly entered the small cabin. He immediately saw
George tip-toeing out of the bathroom and down the short hall. Marty, being of sound mind, tip-toed quietly after him. When George slid into the second bedroom, the very one that Rita and Marty were to use, Marty felt his stomach clench.
He was not far behind George when, by the moonlight streaming in the window, he saw Rita start, then lift her arms, welcoming her lover into her bed, murmuring "get in here, sweetie, but be quiet."
Marty, his mind blank and in a daze just turned and quietly and quickly left the cabin. He still had the presence of mind to quietly close the front door and then run to his car. Entering he realized that he still had his shoes in his hand which is tossed into the passenger seat. Starting the car, he quickly drove off.
Marty struggled with this new knowledge. He had driven to a 24 hour diner located about 1hour south of the cabin. Over a dozen cups of coffee and an uneaten omelette, he reviewed his situation and had a silent conversation with himself - no, perhaps a war would be a better description. His mouth twitched and his eyes darted hither and yon. The waitress kept a wary eye on him.
"I'm gonna divorce the bitch - ain't no way I'm gonna put up with this kind of shit. She's outa here, on her ass, kick her to the curb, the fuckin' cheating whore".
"I can't - I just can't. I love her, I've always loved her. I would shrivel up and die without her. I wouldn't know what kind of life I would have, but it would be miserable. I know that. Without Rita, I would die."
Two other patrons of the diner stared at Marty, looked at each other, then shrugged and went back to their meals, ignoring the tortured soul.
"You stupid, ignorant schmuck. She's cheating on you - cheating with your own brother-in-law, you moron. You gonna take that? You gonna be a fuckin' wimp and eat her out after good old George dumps in her? You some kind of prevert, asswipe?"
"I know, I know - you're right. I gotta confront her and get a divorce. You're right, that's what I gotta do."
"There ya go, now you're being a man, Kick the bitch to the curb. Don't be a fuckin' wimp. A man would not take this kind of shit. You don't divorce her you become her wimp, her sissy boy, her very own cuckold."
"But I love her - jeez, what am I gonna do. I love her....I can't imagine a life without her. Goddamn it, I've loved her since she was in high school. I'll die without her. Shit, what am I gonna do....what am I gonna do....what am I gonna dooooooooo....
And he put he head in his hands and wept - but quietly. The waitress and other diners looked away.
So Marty did....nothing. He just couldn't provoke a confrontation...he found that he just couldn't. He returned to the cabin early the next day and made believe that all was fine. He played the part...but also found that he was impotent...he couldn't get an erection for his wife. Every time they would try to have sex he would get nauseous and remain totally limp. Rita would try to play with his flaccid dick, even suck on it vigorously, to no avail. His cock refused to cooperate to Rita's frustration and disgust.
Marty knew what the problem was, but he had no idea what to do about it. He knew that he should shit or get off the pot. Get the problem on the table and make a fuckin' decision already. He also knew that he was terribly fearful. What if it came to divorce? The very word sent shivers up his spine. He would lose Rita. Could he chance that? Marty was stuck between a rock and a hard place and he hadn't a clue as to what he should do...not a clue.
In the kitchen Rita stood by the sink, tears coursing down her cheeks, crying silently. She suddenly shook her head briskly, willing her tears to stop. He mouth tightened and she vowed to herself that she wouldn't lose control.
"Enough of this, girl," she softly said to herself. "No tears, now it's time for action. I've got to go in there and lay the law down. I'm only 41 years old and that's just too damn young to do without. I'm in my sexual prime and that idiot is just ignoring the problem. Either he does something, or I will. Either or, one way or the other, a solution is coming."
Marty and Rita Kramer were your typical, suburban couple. Married 22 years, twin girls now in college, living the middle class dream. A typical ranch style house in an affluent section of town, not far from the city. Lawn nicely tended by the landscapers once a week. Black shutters and red door, all nicely coordinated according to the highest standards of HGTV.
Marty, 44 years old, owner and sole proprietor of Kramer Real Estate, the employer of 16 agents and 4 office help, enjoyed a well above average income. He was still relatively slim, although not nearly the slender young man that he was. His 6 foot frame was capped now by thinning, graying hair, but still had much of the rich brown of his youth. Piercing blue eyes were still alert with a hint of the mischievous teen years, but only a hint. Lately those eyes had a worried cast to them, an almost furtive look of avoidance. He knew what he had seen and had been haunted by it for weeks now.
Rita, 41 years old, had married Marty soon after she had graduated from high school. He had just completed college and had literally swept her off her feet. Rita, a tall girl at 5' 8" had the typical Italian smoldering good looks of her ancestral native land. Big busted, yet with a slim frame, her dark eyes and hair shouted her proud heritage. She fell madly and totally in love with Marty after meeting him just once at a Valentine's Night Dance. They had married and the twins were born a bit over a year later and they felt blessed with the perfect family - a family now in turmoil.
Rita stormed into the den and sat in her rocker. She started to demand that Marty turn the tv off, when she noticed that it was not on which unsettled her a bit. Marty always had the tv on - the blank screen seemed to stare at them accusingly.
Rita turned her gaze on her husband and her eyes involuntarily softened. She seemed to understand his turmoil, but stiffened her spine and began with the dreaded four words - okay, in this case five:
"Marty, we have to talk." She saw him flinch and almost went to him, but maintained her position and continued. "We just can't go on this way. You know that. I'm only human. I just cannot see a future of celibacy in our marriage. It just isn't going to work for me. You are suffering from erectile dysfunction, Marty. You can't get it hard and you won't see a doctor. Why are you doing this to us? I've tried again and again to understand, to beg you, to implore you, but you're such a dumb ass that you don't even want to acknowledge our problem. And it is OUR problem, Marty. It's not just your problem because it's impacting my life too."
Marty had become impassive, his face blank. Rita recognized the signs, he had retreated into himself, refusing to admit to her or to himself that there was a real problem in their marriage. "What the fuck," he fumed to himself. "The bitch wants to fuck me to death, that's what she wants. She figures that the more we screw the less I'll suspect."
He finally looked at his wife and in a low and flat voice answered her. "Wife, what YOU don't seem to understand is that I'm 44 years old and men in their middle age do have these problems. It happens all of the time, it's not just me. All of a sudden you want to screw everyday and I can't physically handle it, it's only normal for a guy my age. Ok, so I can't get it up occasionally, it's no big deal. I don't need a doctor to tell me that I'm fine."
"Goddamn it, Marty," Rita now screamed at him. "Occasionally?," she yelled. "Occasionally my ass. You haven't gotten it up in weeks, and even then it wasn't up for very long. If I didn't know any better I'd be thinking that you're screwing one of the girls down at the office. Maybe even Hayley, the one with the little tits."
Marty smiled, despite himself. He knew that Rita was aware that Hayley was gay and that she was living with her girlfriend, but it did diffuse the tension in the room a bit. Rita smiled wryly and sat back. "Ok, Marty. I know that you're not dipping your wick in improper wells, but you're also not doing it in your marital bed and I'm suffering. So.... what are you going to do? The balls in your court, sweetheart."
"Yeah", Marty thought to himself. "What am I gonna do?" Looking at his wife again he was able to form a few thoughts. "Rita, give me just a little time. I promise, I'll work this out and there will be a conclusion to it all. I promise. I promise that one way or the other, you are going to get fucked", he said grimly.
Rita's eyes widened momentarily. "Did I hear what I just heard", she said to herself. "What did you just say, Martin? Are you now playing word games with me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? "
Marty just shrugged and rose from his seat. "No games, honey. Just give me a little time and it'll all work out - I promise." He then turned and walked into the small room that he called his office and closed the door behind him.
Rita just sat and stared. "What the hell," she muttered. She was lost in thought. What if he's seriously ill, she wondered. I had better call the doctor and find out if he's seen him lately. One thing is for certain, there is something seriously wrong here. She went to the door and shouted in to her husband. "Marty, you have to see the doctor, I'm not giving you any choice about that. You damn well will go."
Let's set the scene for the next part of this tale. Place: the kitchen of Sandy Nordstom, a neighbor and close friend to Rita Kramer, Time: around 10:00 am on a Thursday morning approximately two weeks after Rita's conversation with her husband about THE problem. Topic: THE problem.
"Sandy, I'm going out of my head. He won't do a damn thing to correct the situation. As I told you, I called Dr. West and they tell me that Marty hasn't been in for an examination in months. I'm at my wits and I'm toying with an idea that will sound totally nuts to you."
"Damn, Rita. Take it easy now, don't go off half cocked," Sandy pleaded, then smiled briefly when she realized what she had said.
"Yeah, yeah, it's funny. That's what I'm getting - half a cock," Rita muttered bitterly.
Sandy looked at her friend sympathetically. "Rita, I know that it's hard.... oh, shit - I didn't mean to say that," she giggled again. "Wait, wait. There has to be a way to solve this problem."
Rita sat pensively for a moment. "Sandy, I really think that I have to do something drastic. Something that will wake Marty up. Something that will really rock his boat. Something that will force him to make some kind of move.
She then put down the coffee cup from which she had been sipping. Rita had a determined look in her eye. "Sandy, you're going to have to help me here, and don't tell me that I'm nuts when you hear what I'm thinking."
At the time this conversation was taking place, Marty Kramer was in his office behind a closed door, which was in itself very unusual. But they all knew, when the door was closed - DO NOT bother the boss.
We find Marty sitting behind his desk, muttering to himself.
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know what you're gonna say. I'm just avoiding the inevitable. I gotta see a lawyer and get the ball rolling." The last few words were said in a whisper.
"Bullshit, you fuckin' wimp. You keep saying that and saying that, but you do nothing. You're just a sad excuse for a man with a whore for a wife. Torch the bitch, kick her ass to the curb. Man up for pete's sake."
"I know, I know...but what'll I do after. Will I be happy after the...divorce," he croaked. "I'll be one miserable fuck, I know that. Jeez, I'm going nuts...I know I should DO SOMETHING...but I'm so fuckin' torn. Torn between doing nothing and doing something that I know will kill me."
Back to Sandy Nordstom's kitchen. Rita was staring intently at her friend, her eyes now steely in determination.
"Sandy, I'm going to make Marty think that I'm having an affair. I'm going to make him so friggen jealous that he'll have to do something."
Sandy's mouth dropped open. She stared at her friend in disbelief. "Are you crazy? You're totally out of your mind. You want to completely ruin your marriage? You think that Marty is going to just sit back and smile and tell you that he's ok with that?"
"Sandy, what do I have now? My marriage is in ruins. It's not only the lack of sex, it's much more. I told you - Marty has lost all interest in me. No more cuddling, no holding hands even. Our conversations are brief and without any warmth. I don't know what has happened, but what we now have is not a marriage. We're like roommates - and he won't even talk about it."
Sandy sat there shaking her head. "So you think that by making him think that you're having an affair that it will solve your problem? It could very well send it crashing down in flames."
Rita nodded. "I know, but I've got to do something dramatic. If this doesn't work, I don't know what will. I've got to do this, I've been giving it a lot of thought. His discovery of my 'affair' has to be dramatic and shocking. It has to rock him back on his heels. That maybe is what's needed to bring this to a head."
"Rita, I think you've really gone around the bend this time. I sure hope that you know what you're doing."
"Nope, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, Sandy. But I've got to do something. Now...how do we make some artificial semen?"
Back to Marty's office where we find our hero sitting back in his chair, hands behind his head, looking out of the window seeing nothing, his gaze was totally inward . His lips were moving slightly and his eyes were a bit teary.
Suddenly his door opened and his office manager slipped in and quickly closed the door behind her. Marty turned and looked at her. He was mute but his eyes were sad and empty, reflecting the turmoil he was living with. .
"Marty, what the hell is going on?" exclaimed Hayley. "Don't give me the nothing horsecrap. You've been looking like hell and your mind is sure not on business. C'mon, Marty. I've known you long enough to know that it's something serious. Please, Marty...let me help. I can at least listen."
Marty sighed, turned away briefly and then put his hands down and sat up a bit in his chair. He smiled crookedly at Hayley Morton. She had been working for him for almost 5 years now and he and Mary had always liked her. They had also met her significant other, Joanna Hastings, many times and had liked her also.
Marty always admired Hayley appearance. She was short, but slender and always well groomed and smartly dressed. Her blond hair and fair complection bespoke her Scandinavian background and she was efficient as hell in the office.
"All is fine, Hayley. Ginger peachy, sweetie, right as rain. Nothing to fret about at all, have no fear..." but Marty was rudely interrupted in his assurances.
"Bullshit, Marty. All is NOT fine and there is plenty to fret about. C'mon, boss." Hayley moved to one of the chairs in front of Marty's desk and plopped herself down firmly. Her short skirt rose a bit and Marty could see the soft flesh of her thighs. He felt himself becoming a bit erect and had to snicker to himself. "Ha, ain't nothing wrong with the pecker."
"I'm not moving until you tell me what's going on," Hayley proclaimed. "You're hurting, that's obvious and I'm sitting here until you unburden yourself."
Marty sighed and absently scratched his cheek. He turned slightly away and then looked at Hayley again. His mouth opened...he started to speak...but nothing came out. He coughed slightly, cleared his throat and tried again.
"Rita is having an affair. She's fucking George, my brother-in-law. I caught them at the cabin when I came up early a few weeks ago," he said softly but harshly. "Okay? Now you know."
Hayley sat there, her jaw had dropped and her mouth hung open. For long microseconds it was quiet in the office. Finally her mouth closed with a snap and her eyes narrowed.
"That's pure and utter bullshit. I don't believe it and I'll never believe it. That woman loves you with every fibre of her being."
Marty just stared at her, a sneer on his face. "Hayley, what part of 'I caught them' didn't you understand? You hear me? I caught them, I saw him in bed with her. What? You want me to show you pictures? I don't have any, I don't need them. I CAUGHT THEM!!! Goddamn it," his voice had risen.