A Little Revenge - Tape 01

A Girl in a Bar.

She sat down at the bar two seats to my right. I searched the slanted mirror that the bar owner had conveniently elevated up and behind all the liquor so that patrons could check one another out without staring. Of course, if she looked into the mirror in my direction, I'd be nabbed.

I sipped my Jack Black, wondering why a woman this fine wandered into my neighborhood bar on a Tuesday night. My looks in her direction into the mirror were furtive and brief, but even without a full-bore stare I could tell that she was something special. Tall with tight jeans, spiked heels, long legs, a white lacy blouse cut so low it threatened to show nipple, a tiny waist, a big mass of golden-blonde hair, and the kind of tits men went to war for. And a big golden wedding band on her left ring finger. Her face was stunningly beautiful. High cheekbones and a heart-shaped jawline with a pert little nose with large blue dominating the whole thing. Her eyes troubled me just because she looked troubled. She was alone, but she wouldn't be for long. Not a woman like that.

She didn't look the least bit approachable. Her head was down, her elbows in and she was staring into her drink as though the amber liquid had answers. Finishing it quickly, she raised her glass to order a second. She wasn't taking a short break before heading home. She wasn't there to meet the girls to laugh and joke. She was drinking to get drunk, shit-faced drunk, because she was miserable. The bartender was stealing glances too, interrupting his conversation with other patrons to sneak several peeks. He was a noted swordsman in his own right. I moved into the seat next to her on the left and he looked on with disapproval. Tough shit dude.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked.

"Clearly not" she replied sullenly.

"You looked like you could do with a talk" I replied after a minute.

"Figure that out all on your own, did you?" she asked looking at me, bringing her big blue eyes to bear on me with megawatt intensity. I babbled: "well, you, were...staring into your glass,...and I...I just thought..." I jabbered aimlessly.

She took pity on me. "Don't fret," she said, "I'm just not in much of a mood to talk to anybody owning a prick right now."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'll saw it off if it would extend my stay on this chair for a little while longer" I joked.

She belly-laughed, thank God.

"I don't think that is necessary—yet" she concluded with a smile.

"Good to get a reprieve" I answered. She laughed again lightly.

"Are all guys in the doghouse, or just one in particular?" I asked.

She thought for a couple of minutes on that one, her face running from bright anger, to hurt, and returning to despair.

"One in particular set it off, but I think the condition is common to every man" she replied. "Every. Single. One" she emphasized.

Her answer could only mean one thing—she'd been cheated on by some fool. "When did you find out?" I asked.

"Last weekend. I guess I should have known it for a long time, several months anyway, but I refused to believe it. Sunday afternoon I heard the two of them fucking like pigs in the garage while our kids were playing just a few yards away. I couldn't believe it. She's always been making over him, always picking him out at baseball or neighborhood parties and sallying up to him. The other moms told me to watch out for her but I told them they were crazy. I guess I was...arrogant. She's not bad looking, not really. I guess he finally just broke down. Maybe she does...things... I won't do. I don't know."

"Well, he's a fucking idiot" I said with conviction. "I don't care whether she's good looking or not, I can tell you sight-unseen that she doesn't hold a candle to you."

"That's very kind of you to say" she responded.

"It's not a kindness, it's reality" I replied. "Look in the mirror up there. Go ahead, give it a good look and don't look away. Everything about you is beautiful, sexy. You have hair that looks like spun gold, clear skin, perfect facial structure, tremendous eyes and a figure that every woman I know would trade for in a heartbeat. So, I don't need to know what she looks like because she's in second place."

She blushed, which surprised me. How could a woman this gorgeous not have received compliments her whole life? Her huge bosom gave her the kind of early-emerging figure that caused grown men to think thoughts that, if acted on, would put them in jail, and a face that would cause intemperate schoolboys to blurt out their undying love. And yet, here she was, blushing like a school girl at a simple compliment.

"Again, thank you. I could use a prop or two right now."

A Question

"What are you going to do?" I asked some time later, "have you confronted him?"

"No, it just happened this weekend and he went out of town on a sales trip Sunday night. I just dropped the kids off at mom's. I just told her I needed to go meet a friend" she answered. "Maybe I didn't lie...completely" she said, dipping her head slightly in my direction.

I had gone from unwanted stranger to near friend in a short while. I was thrilled. Any time I could spend with this beauty was well spent.

"I don't know if confronting him would do much good" she added. "He'd just deny it, and I don't have solid proof. He'd probably wait a few weeks, then start plugging her again when he thought the heat was off."

"Maybe the thing to think about is what you want rather than what you should do, you know what I mean?"

"No" she said.

"Well, he's changed the game, so maybe you can change the game too depending on what you want the outcome to be. Do you mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Shoot, but don't expect me to answer" she said warily.

"Fair enough," I said. "Well, he broke the rules. You promised to be faithful to each other until death, but he cheated. I'm a lawyer, or used to be. They taught me in law school is that when the other guy violates his deal you've got two choices. You can enforce the contract and make him do what he promised to do, or walk away from the contract and get money damages. Here, you can either make up and find a way to keep him faithful, or divorce him and make him pay alimony with child support. So, do you want him to enforce the contract, dump tootsie and stay faithful, or dump him?"

She thought long and hard about that, so long that I thought it might be the end of our evening. But after a few minutes she raised her glass again and toggled it, signaling to the bartender that she wanted a third whiskey. She was a tall healthy woman, but three drinks were definitely going to work on her.

"He's good looking. He was a great athlete in high school and college—basketball and tennis, all-conference. All the girls wanted him. He chose me. He's a good provider, he works hard and he's well-liked in his company. He's a regional sales manager and I think he can make it to Vice President of Sales, maybe higher. He loves the kids and he's good with them, but I have to pull him away from work all the time. Cara isn't the first woman to come after him. But I think she's the first one he's slept with. At least I think she is. I really don't know."

"On a scale of 1-10 how handsome is he?" I asked.

"If he's not a 10, he's not far from it. Maybe a nine or nine and a half. Definitely a guy who'd draw interest on the road, which is where he is 3-4 days a week." Great I thought, and she's sitting here talking to a guy who on his most optimistic day is a 6. Ok, see if you can compete here...

"On a scale of 1-10, how good is he in bed?"

"That's none of your business!" she replied hotly.

"Of course not. None of this is. But you're clearly thinking about whether he's worth keeping or trading in, so why not think about everything?"

"He's...okay" she said shyly after a long delay. "He used to be good, very good. But after we had the kids everything cooled off. There was never enough time, never enough room to really focus on it. We've slowed down to maybe...once a week to ten days, I don't know. He comes, cums, and leaves. I haven't had an orgasm in probably six months."

"Shit, that's tragic" I said. "What about the fun stuff? Movies? Upside down in the closet tied to the rack? Friends? Swaps? Any of that?"

"Absolutely not!" she replied with shock. "Chase is always whining about trying this or that. He wants me to..." her voice trailed off.

"He wants you to do things that you don't want to do. Things that will make you feel like you're a piece of meat instead of somebody."

"Exactly!" she said. "he makes me feel like shit because I don't earn an income, even though I was just a few hours from completing my medical diagnostics degree. If I did everything he asked in the bedroom, I'd be lower than dirt."

"Hmmmm" I responded.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Nothing, well...something. I don't think the issue is what you do or don't let him do in the bedroom. I think the problem is that he's a control freak and he wants to pidgeon-hole you into the Stepford Wife role. Beautiful, compliant, devoted and willing. The problem is that he's doesn't truly value you. He's taken you for granted and you know it. You can feel it every day. So you don't have enough things in your life that give you emotional support, so it isn't surprising that you aren't willing to give him everything he wants. You sense that if you do, you'll lose all leverage in the deal. If you asked me, the first thing you should do is finish your degree and go to work. You need the independence, and people to tell you that you're doing good work."

"So, how much do you charge an hour?" she responded.

"I used to charge a lot. Now, nothing, which may be more than it's worth. I've spent a lifetime at work listening to people tell me why things broke apart. Sometimes I could fix it, most times I couldn't.

In any event" I said getting back to the subject, "you know that he's done one thing wrong, badly wrong, and you're suspicious that he's done a lot more" I said. "But you haven't really questioned whether or not he's been faithful over the years, so you've never really investigated it, fair?"

"Fair" she replied.

I looked into my phone and pulled up a number. I wrote the name and number of a seriously capable private investigator onto a napkin and handed it to her. "This is a heavy weight guy. If anyone can figure out whether this is just a side trip or a habit, he's your guy. Do you have a way to pull some money out of the bank without him knowing about it?"

She searched her mind briefly. "Yes" she replied.

"Well then, he's your guy. Not cheap, but honest, which counts for a lot in that business, smart and determined. You'll get your answer. It may not be the one you want, but it will be the truth."

"Thank you" she said and eyed her drink. "If I have that drink, I won't be able to drive home, and that I need to drive home right now because if I stay here, I might start doing things I shouldn't be doing."

I enjoyed speculating on what that might be, but decided to go for the long play. "We'll call it my fee" I said, reaching across her and taking her drink in my hand, the back of my arm brushing her left breast. She jerked back slightly.

"To your decision" I said raising the glass and ignoring the flinch. She nodded, gathered her purse and headed for the door. It was the last I thought I would see of her, but I was wrong in more ways than one. She returned to the bar a few moments later, walked up to me and handed me a small slip of paper. "Terry, xxx-xxx-xxxx." I held my left hand out and she understood. She fished the slip of paper on which I had written my investigator's name out of her purse and handed it back to me. I wrote my name and number on the back.

"Don't use your phone. Use a burner phone. You can get one at most stop n' shops."

She nodded, turned, and left without looking back.

A Direction

She wasn't at the bar the next week, the week after that, or the week after that and she didn't call. I knew better than to call her. Chances were good she'd worked it out with her husband, which was the only reason she was in the bar in the first place, or that they hadn't worked it out and were on their way to divorce court. Either way, I figured I would never see her.

Then there she was, wearing the same tight jeans, a skin-tight electric blue blouse cut to the nips and stilettos. A gaggle of guys were already in tow, one on each side and one behind her, a common pincer movement in these parts. The moment she saw me she said something dismissive to the three and left them in her wake. They were not pleased.

"You look better" I said.

"You too" she replied. She was observant, I'll give her that. I had run off 15 pounds by cutting the booze and getting to the gym every single day just on the mere prospect that I would see her again. I was glad it showed.

"I am better" she continued, "though maybe I should be worse. I came to thank you. You're the only one who's done me a bit of good."

"How so?" I asked.

"Your investigator-Cliff. He's as good as you said he would be. He gave me what I needed to know, but it wasn't what I wanted to know. Turns out Chase still likes sex, a lot, just not with me" she concluded.

"I see. I'm sorry to hear that" I replied. "I had hoped it might be just a one-off thing."

"No, he's been screwing around for years, mostly in his own office, but really any place he can put his seed, co-workers, competitors, buyers. He particularly enjoys trade shows as it turns out, though I'm not sure how he manages to juggle that many women at one time."

"Let me repeat the question from a month ago—what do you want now?" I asked.

"I think I still love him" she answered meekly, "but I don't know if I can reign him in."

"Why come back here? What can I do? I think he's an idiot."

She hesitated for a long while, implying that she didn't have an answer. "I came back here to see you" she said finally. "I think you're the only guy who I can trust."

I laughed, hard, "Trust?" I asked "You've got to be kidding. You talked with me for what, an hour at most? Ask yourself, 'why did this guy get up from his chair and come sit next to me?' Was it out of selflessness? The public good? Fuck no, I walked up to you because you looked like you were fresh out of a Miss America pageant, or maybe a centerfold for Playboy. So, ask yourself, what's really motivating me?"

"You wanted to get into my pants" she replied.

"No, I want...to my hands on your tits, then get into your pants."

"Okay, she laughed in response, "But I'm not there, at least not yet."

I stared at her, stunned at her candor.

"This may be your lucky day" she responded. "I want to hurt him, and I want to do it with you. At least you're honest. You're not creeping around about it."

I was too stunned to speak at first. "What have you got in mind?" I asked.

"Revenge" she said "starting right now."

Executing the Plan

Terry's plan was simple, to go somewhere and fuck—then drop the bomb on her man when she felt like it. It would have been heaven on earth, but I wanted more and I plotted to get it.

"I've got a better idea" I began.

"What do you mean. You don't want in my pants now?"

"No, I want you, but how does this help you with your husband?" I asked.

"Why do you care?" she responded.

"Bear with me a little and answer the question." I replied.

She stewed on the question for a while and said "it doesn't. It helps bring me a little sanity, but even if I tell him I did it, it doesn't change much does it?"

"Not really," I replied, "not unless you make him wish he'd never been unfaithful. To understand what he's about to be missing. Not unless he knows that you're someone of incredible worth and if this were just a competition to see who could end up in the most beds, you would smoke his ass."

"How do I do that?" she asked."

"Let's get a move on and I'll tell you" I said standing up. I'd spent enough time in the bar and the three amigos looked like they were about to break their beer bottles over my head.

We got moving and I explained what I had in mind while we headed to a posh old South Beach hotel, making two stops along the way. We stopped first at Kinky's, a locally owned sex shop where I had Terry go on a spending spree buying clothing, movies, lubricants, toys, you name it, and to put it all on the family credit card. My favorite was a tiny black baby doll nighty with matching crotchless panties. We then stopped at a local pharmacy to buy razors and shaving cream. Chase monitored her spending like a hawk, so he'd see the charges, wonder what she'd bought that he wasn't seeing, and ask what was up. That would be her entre to explain the new order of things.

We went to The Requenez Inn, a beautiful little four-star hotel in the heart of South Beach and checked in under my name. I had helped Gabbie, the clerk, out of a scrape a few years back and she always gave me a discount. I thought Terry would bolt at any moment, but instead her pace picked up as we shopped Kinky's and I drove to the hotel. By the time we went through check-in and rode the elevator to our third-floor suite she was breathing heavily and when the door of the room closed, she pasted me against it with a fiery kiss that told me there would be no turning back.

We bathed together in the suite's oversized tub and I shaved her furry pussy until it was bare and smooth, careful to touch and prod her until her juices were flowing like nectar. She returned the favor and made my pelvis and balls slick.

Revenge: Tape 1

I left Terry in the bathroom to primp and dress and went into the bedroom and dimmed the lights a little. I called out "READY" and held up her cell phone, camera on. Terry had transformed herself. She was an absolute bombshell: makeup deftly done and her hair pumped up and styled. But more than that, she was done being mousey and demure. She strutted in on spiked heels strobing her sexuality in the small Teddy.

"Hey baby. It's me!!" Terry said sensuously as she reclined on the bed Cleopatra style. I've figured a few things out. You see, I know you're regularly fucking Cara, and that you've got a bunch of girls on the string whenever you go out of town. I've got all the evidence, photos, receipts, hotel keys and witness statements. Right now, I'm trying to figure out whether I can rehab you or if I ought to just dump your ass in divorce court.

But before I decide that, I'm going to get just a little bit even. Well..., maybe quite a bit even. I'd say I've earned it wouldn't you? You see, I'm in a really nice hotel downtown with a really nice man named John who really wants to get into my pants. Say hello to Chase, John."

"Hello Chase!" I said enthusiastically.

"You see Chase, John has something you don't have. Actually, he has a couple of things. First, he has an honest bone in his body, which you don't. The other thing, is that he has a big fat eight-inch dick. I just spent a little time in the tub with him shaving him clean and really enjoyed running my tongue all over the that big tool. I can't wait to see what a real dick feels like instead of your stubby little 4-incher. In honor of you being a little shit, over the next few weeks I'm going to let John do things you've begged me to do for years and I refused. And guess what, now that you've fucked up, I won't ever let you do them. But you see, John gets to do them because unlike you, he was honest with me from the start.

Okay, so let's get the show on the road!" With that she pulled a 10" black dildo with an enormous mushroom head out from under the pillows.

"Oooooh!! What do we have here?" Terry asked as she ran her index finger erotically down the length of the big tool. "John has some friends from South Beach and he says that they really like girls like me. He said he'd share me with them, but that they were "really big' down there, so I needed to get some practice. So, I'm going to practice a little because I really hope this opens me up a bit more than your scrawny little tool" she said as she rubbed lubricant all over the tip of the phallus.