A Simple Case of Infidelity

~~v~~

Finally one day it all came to head. I'd been home maybe an hour. The kids were in their rooms. It was almost time for dinner. Leslie came out of our bedroom and down the stairs carrying an overnight bag. She walked over and stood in front of me, "Francis I'm going home to my mom and dad's for a while."

I stared at her. This was it. She made up her mind. She was finally leaving me. I hadn't checked her phone, or tried to follow her around. She must have been seeing the black Lexus guy; I guessed they'd made a decision.

I guess I gulped, "So I guess this is goodbye."

She breathed a deep sigh, a little too deep I thought, she sort of mumbled, "I need my mom and dad. I need to go home. Call me if you need anything, if you want me back." Her eyes were brimming over with tears, "I love you Francis."

I heard movement from the balcony. I looked up. There on the balcony were my kids; the looks they gave Leslie made my blood run cold. I'd been right; they'd known. I didn't know what to do. I did figure this was it. I didn't get up. Why bother? I told Leslie, "Call when you get there."

She sobbed, picked up her bag, and walked out the door, and I thought out of my life forever. I wanted to cry. I really needed to have a good cry. I was losing the one great love of my life. I'd failed.

Was I an asshole? I should have known better.

~~v~~

So Leslie left. She took her little travel bag, her purse, her car keys, and she drove off into the sunset. Well really not the sunset; only as far as Baltimore. I got word as soon as she got there; her mom called, "Francis what's wrong. Leslie's here and she's crying her eyes out."

What could I say, "Gee Mrs. Wells. I don't know exactly what to say. Leslie's been having some trouble lately. She said she needed some time with you guys."

Mrs. Wells responded, "You've been...good to her I know."

"Come on Mrs. Wells you know how I feel about Leslie."

The Wells family were well respected around Maryland; not exactly Ark and Dove famous, but certainly well known. They were 'old money'; icons in that rarified atmosphere of very upscale, traditional, and I might say a little bit staid, Maryland. In fact in 1814 it was a Wells boy, Daniel Wells who, along with another boy named Thomas McComas shot and killed General Robert Ross, the British commander of the invading army just east of old Baltimore. They say there's a statue dedicated to the two young men down at the foot of Broadway in the city.

Leslie and I got married in Baltimore at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen; it's like this landmark church in Baltimore and in Maryland. There's this folk tale about that church. In 1904 there'd been a horrific fire that engulfed huge parts of the city. Countless city blocks were gutted. The fire seemed unstoppable, and it was headed right for this old department store owned and operated by a guy name Thomas O'Neill. Word was he got down on his knees and prayed that if the fire spared his store he'd bequeath a fortune to the 'Church'. They say that just as the flames started to lick up around the south side of his store the wind changed and his store was saved. In gratitude he bequeathed the money that was used to build the cathedral. That's where we got married.

Me, I'm a Presbyterian, and when we moved to western Maryland Leslie agreed to go to my parent's church. She didn't convert, and I'm pretty sure some day, if we stayed married I'd switch over for her. Her agreeing to go to my parent's church was a pretty big concession for her. I guess that doesn't matter much anymore.

~~v~~

The next several weeks were horrible. I'd never been so sad. We went through Lent, Palm Sunday, and Easter without her. I knew, I just knew Leslie was planning on divorcing me. No one called from Baltimore. I figured she'd reconnected with the black Lexus guy. I bet she'd gone and been back from Europe once already. Her parents were rich. I just trudged on one day to the next.

My kids avoided me; not because they were angry at me, but because they were so heartbroken. Every now and then Victoria would find me and just curl up in my lap. A couple time Richard hit me on the arm and nodded. I think they talked to their mom, but they never told me anything. That didn't hardly seem fair. It was partly, well a little bit anyway, what they said that originally got me suspicious. Since then they acted like they'd never said anything. I understood why, but it still wasn't right.

The only person who still took any interest in me was skinny little Venica from across the road. She started visiting. She took up the jobs Leslie used to do. Venica cleaned and ironed my clothes. She prepared a lot of our meals. She was an OK cook. She cleaned, made the beds, and sometimes at night she'd let her little girl stay up and we'd all watch TV together. I really liked Tammy. She reminded me of Victoria at that age.

I was so lonely, and the only person who cared was Venica. I guess it sort of led to something. Nothing really happened, but it almost did. Venica and I were watching TV. Her little girl was upstairs in bed with my Victoria. Richard was out someplace.

Venica decided I needed a back rub. This used to be something Leslie did. I admit it; I was tired and sore. It was springtime and the idiots were out all up and down the Potomac trying to figure out ways to drown.

People didn't seem to get it; a person can drown in six inches of water. It happens all the time. Rivers have a continuous current. Even it's only say five miles an hour, if a bather or canoer slips and falls in backwards and tries to get up and gets their foot trapped in a rock and they fall back again. They could be lying there with the air they need just an inch or two above their noses. I keep telling people. If you fall out of your canoe or raft don't try to stand up and walk; just let the current take you to the bank. It's fun, it's easy, and it's a whole lot safer.

There are a couple of these low waterfalls too. They're called weirs. I warn people, don't try to go over them. Paddle to the bank and pottage your canoe around it. If they try to go over and capsize they could get caught in a 'death wheel'. The water keeps flowing, and the person doesn't get out. They just keep popping up every couple seconds; long enough to catch 'not quite enough' air. Eventually they drown. It happens to someone every year.

I was exhausted, and Venica started rubbing my back. One thing led to another and we found ourselves lying side by side on the sofa cuddling and kissing. I wasn't trying to get anything. In fact all I could think about was how much I missed Leslie. We'd been holding each other and kind of cuddling for about ten minutes when I got religion. I sat up and said, "Venica we can't do this."

She wiped her mouth and said, "You're right Francis. I'm sorry."

We spent the rest of the evening sitting on opposite corners of the couch, not saying anything, and pretending to watch whatever it was that was on. I was sure glad none of our kids saw us. I mean it looked awfully incriminating. I felt really guilty. Venica did too.

~~v~~

So here's what happened next.

The incident with Venica happened on a Thursday night. On Saturday I got a call from Leslie. Was I ever surprised? I picked up my cell phone and saw who it was. When I heard her voice my heart soared. I said, "Yes? Is that you Leslie?"

She replied, "It is Francis, and I've decided to come home."

I was joyous. I almost forgot why we'd been having trouble. I started to get nasty in my head, but held it back. I said to her, "I think that would be a good idea."

She responded, "Yes, I think we should have that talk now. I think we should clear the air."

Was I ever excited! She sounded so relaxed and happy, like the 'old Leslie'. She was going to come home! She was going to confess! I almost felt like forgiving her. Almost.

She said she'd be home the next day, Sunday. I sat around all night Saturday night and all Sunday morning thinking about how I'd listen. I'd be fair. I wouldn't rush to judgment. I'd let her tell her story. I figured if she was suitably remorseful I'd think about forgiving her. Of course there'd be a period of adjustment, a time of probation. Yes, I'd listen. I'd be objective. Maybe we could get on with our lives.

She showed up a little after 2:00 p.m. Sunday afternoon. It was the Sunday after Easter. She waited outside till I came and opened the door to let her in. I thought, 'how contrite, how repentant to wait for permission to come in.' I'd already sent the kids over to my parents so we pretty much had the whole afternoon. I ushered her in, took her coat, purse, and scarf and walked her to the sofa. She had on an aqua colored dress with spaghetti straps, and empire waist. The hem came to just above her knees. 'Very demure,' I thought.

She had her hair in a French bun. I thought she looked pretty, very prim. She wasn't wearing a lot of makeup, but what she had on accentuated her natural beauty. She had on what looked like two inch heels so she'd still be taller than me if we decided to go out later. Nice skin toned nylons matched the dress and the pallid tone of her off-white shoes magnificently augmented the rest of her attire.

She looked like someone who was contrite and ready to confess, but my goodness; she looked radiant. I was pleased; then maybe not.

I sat beside her. I was dressed casually in a pair of khaki slacks and a light blue button down. I felt relaxed and for the first time in a long time in control. I smiled at her, "Now what have you got to say?"

She smiled back oh so sweetly, "May I see your lap top for a moment please?"

I felt gracious; maybe she'd preplanned her confession and had it recorded. I went and got my laptop. "Here honey," I said.

She accepted the computer, sat it on the table, crossed the room to her purse, retrieved a flash drive and came back. She smiled again, sweetly, "I'm a little nervous."

I smiled back, "It's OK honey. I understand."

She opened the laptop, turned it on, and once it was booted up she inserted the flash drive. She smiled again, "This will only be a moment."

I waited. The laptop was running. She used her fingertips and pulled up the appropriate drive. It started to play. What I saw was a somewhat darkened scene of me and Venica lying prone on our couch. We were kissing.

Leslie smiled softly and asked, "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"

To say the least I was a little flustered. I asked, "Where did that come from. Where did you get that?"

She wasn't smiling anymore, "Obviously it came from this house, my house. It seems to have taken place on this sofa, and it looks like you and Venica are engaged in something you shouldn't have been doing. I believe our children were upstairs. Shouldn't you be just a little ashamed?" she turned the computer off, "so tell me, what have you got to say for yourself?"

I taken aback, "That was nothing. Nothing happened. We were there...on the...we felt guilty and we stopped."

She frowned, "Want to see it again? It looks like you two were pretty much into something."

How could this be happening? She was supposed to be here to confess, to apologize to me. I blurted out, "Nothing went on! Honest. Look at it again. Nothing happened."

She'd already put the laptop away, "It doesn't matter. What matters to me now is I was gone just a few weeks. I was feeling alone, left out, and in the short time I was gone you started hitting on our next door neighbor, a woman I might add who loves you and would willingly do anything for you. This is pretty crass Francis," She wasn't looking very happy, not happy at all, she repeated, "Now tell me what have you got to say for yourself?"

"Jesus Leslie this is crazy. Where did you get the tape?"

She glared at me, "Does it matter where the tape came from? It's there, it's here!" She pointed to the flash drive, "You betrayed me Francis. You betrayed my love for you. You betrayed our marriage."

I jumped up, "I did not! It was you. It was you and that man in the Lexus. This is a joke, a sham! You, you, you're just doing this...to."

She pointed to the sofa, "Sit down."

I sat down.

"First there was never any man in any Lexus. It's all in your head. Your assertions that there was something going on in West Virginia are the imaginings of a confused, muddled, suspicious mind. It's all in your head!"

I was head over heels. I know what I blundered back, "It's not in my head! I saw it!"

She shouted at me, "Yeah? Well prove it!"

I couldn't think of anything to say, "I uh..."

She asked, "I know you had the intelligence to go to this Motel where you claimed you saw me. I know you asked for a copy of their surveillance tapes."

I hadn't, "No I..."

She declared, "I thought not. Well I did! Too bad," she smiled, "The clerk lost them."

The fog was lifting. I smelled a rat, "They have a backup somewhere."

She scorned me, "How would you know? I checked. Seems the clerk lost everything. There's nothing, nada, for the whole week, and the week before."

'Damn,' I thought, 'Wells money,' I responded, "Your parents must have..."

She tried to slap me, but I grabbed her hand before she hit pay dirt. She exclaimed, "You think I'd drag my parent's into this, this mental nonsense of yours? This sordid little tryst?"

I knew damn well she had. In fact I bet even now they or she had the tape recordings, and at some future time they'd be returned. If I wanted to prove anything I was just plain out of luck. I sat back, "So you think you have something that incriminates me. Let's say you do. What do you plan to do with it?"

That's when the Leslie I knew, I really knew, the concupiscent voluptuous woman I knew took over. First she reached around and pulled the flash drive from the lap top. She dropped it on the floor and crunched it under her heeled foot. I sensed more was coming. I was right.

Leslie leaned back. As she arched back she took her hands and helped the spaghetti straps to her dress fall down around her shoulders. I was pretty confident there wasn't a bra under that dress; now I knew for sure. I watched as the dress slipped down around her waist. There weren't any panties either, and the nylons were thigh highs probably held up with some kind of adhesive. My wife stood up in front of me. Naked except for her thigh high nylons and her high heeled shoes. She smiled at me; it was a sexually provocative half smile, like something a prostitute would do, she purred, "What am I going to do with you?" She reached down and pulled me to my feet, she gave me one of those leering half smirks I'd seen so many times, she whispered, "Momma's hot Francis; she's on fire, and she needs your big hose to cool her off."

She already had my slacks zipper open and her fingers were clawing inside looking for the opening to my boxers. The stage was being set.

I was done for, literally about to be fucked. If things went true to form these were the games we'd play.

We'd play fireman and burning bush, an old game. I had the hose. It was my job to put out the fire. Of course it was Leslie's bush. We'd do that a while then, if the script ran true we'd take a break. Leslie and I would lay side by side and fiddle with each other. I tickle her crevice while she'd fondle my Johnson.

After we'd rested we might play transcontinental railroad; that was usually done doggy fashion. I'd be Leland Stanford. I'd drive my golden spike up and in as far as it would go. Then we'd go to an old one. We'd probably play 'little red wagon'. Everybody knows that one. Leslie'd misplaced her wagon. She'd roll back over. I'd to take my big high powered flashlight and search way up her pussy cave till I found it.

That was often followed by another rest period. It wasn't really a rest period at all; at least not for Leslie. She'd get out her enema kit and she'd flush. She might use a small suppository up her ass till it dissolved. She'd flush out her ass and pussy real good.

Then it was Yogi Bear time; me being Yogi Bear and her being Bobba Louie. I had to find a way to keep Bobba Louie happy and comfortable. That meant me lying on my back while Bobba Louie got on top and slid back and forth and up and down with her pussy over my mouth. I'll say this; Leslie's always had a hell of a set of lips. It gave her a great thrill, and it gave me added time to recharge. Then it was time to drive the hammer home.

Leslie would get on her hands and knees again, while Yogi, that was always me, would climb on her back and ram my rod deep in her asshole. I'd go back and forth till Leslie was either too sore, I was too tired, or we both delivered another orgasm.

Always by the time we got done playing Yogi and Bobba we were both so exhausted we couldn't move. Leslie would stay home and rest in bed the next day. I'd go to work but be so sore I could hardly walk.

~~v~~

That was the usual arrangement. Sorry, it didn't happen that way.

~~v~~

Back in February, right before Valentine's Day Leslie had gone home to mother, and she'd stayed throughout the entire Lenten season. Her mom had called and told me Leslie was home and feeling down. Mrs. Well told me how she and Leslie were spending a lot of time together in church.

Mrs. Wells was an older lady and her religious activities had become the center of many of the things she did. She explained how Leslie felt sad about her many past mistakes. Mrs. Wells and she had been spending a lot of time in prayer.

I believed Mrs. Wells; she'd never given me cause to doubt her. Mr. Wells was another matter. I always felt that he looked down on me; like I wasn't quite good enough for his daughter. No one could blame him; who was I? Who was she?

Back in late February and March I'd been so lonely I almost gave in. In fact at one point it got so bad I'd decided to go to Baltimore and beg Leslie to come home. I did go to Baltimore. What I saw changed everything.

I went to Baltimore the Sunday before Palm Sunday. I had a dozen roses and a box of candy. Shit I had a chocolate bunny and a coconut Easter egg. I had it all planned out. I'd see her. We'd talk. I pretend like I never saw anything. I'd ask her to forgive me! I was that despondent!

I pulled down her parent's street and parked my jeep. I started to get out when I saw it; the black Lexus with the Virginia plates. I'd just had lunch at a nice restaurant. My stomach started to clench. I leaned over the side and left the lasagna, the salad, and the garlic bread there on the side of the road.

I slowly backed my jeep up the narrow street. I admit it; I was crying. I backed up, but not before I got a good picture of the Lexus. I backed away, pulled out of that neighborhood, drove out to the Interstate, and found a nice Holiday Inn.

I threw myself on the bed and cried almost all night. The trips to Martinsburg had been real. Leslie's decision to go home wasn't out of despair or guilt; she wanted to continue whatever it was she'd been doing with Mr. Black Lexus in an environment free and clear of possible discovery, and obviously she had her parents complicity. Yeah pull one over on the dumb hick from western Maryland. What did he know?

Well he, I knew a lot. I knew people who worked in state government. I had friends on the state police force. I wasn't rich. I wasn't well connected, but I wasn't totally without resources.

First I called my dad. He'd worked for the railroad. He had friends too, He got in touch with an old pal who was good friends with our State Senator. I knew the man too, just not that well.

Meanwhile I went back to work on what to do about my wife. I drove back to her parent's neighborhood. The place was a confused pattern of narrow streets; it was easy to find a place to park, get out and walk around without being noticed.