Add It Up

"You've told me so many things," I said. "I don't believe you."

"I've never lied..." She ran out of gas. I guess even cheating sluts have a sense of the absurd. "I'm not lying. I told you, once I figured out..."

I interrupted her. "Yes, I remember what you told me. I have a very vivid memory. I didn't believe you then; I don't believe you now. You see, when someone finds out that you have lied to them about very important things, they tend to believe you're lying about everything. You're too good at it not to have had lots of practice."

Somehow, the stupid bitch thought it would be a good idea for Battey to be a character witness to prove to me that she'd stopped seeing him. I came in after work with the girls, since I'd picked them up after practice, and there he was, in all his glory.

I suppose he wasn't bad looking, but I was in no mood to appreciate his hotness. Bailey and Canton went into the kitchen to get something to drink. I leaned against the door and looked at the cheaters.

"You made a mistake," I was speaking to Battey.

He looked like he was a little nervous. "Patrick, George is here to tell you..."

"No, I'm pretty sure that 'George' is here to pay for his crimes against humanity, the earth and God," I said. His nervousness seemed to increase. He jumped to his feet.

"I... I need to be going," he stammered. "This was a bad idea, Alicia."

"Yes, it was," I agreed. Who knew douchewads were so smart? I pushed myself off the door-jamb and ambled toward them. Battey moved to keep the coffee table between us.

"What are you doing?" His voice held a hint of panic.

"I was just hoping to shake your hand," I told him. I smiled a benevolent smile. He seemed to find it frightening.

"Why... why would you shake my hand?" he stammered.

"You opened my eyes," I explained. "Thank God I didn't waste any more of my life being married to a cheater. The better man won. She's all yours, now."

I extended my hand across the table. He hesitantly grasped it, and I shut down. He was right to be hesitant. Every day, since I was 15, I'd been squeezing rubber balls or hand exercisers. I had worn out several sets of those safety-pin spring looking things. I power-lifted, four days a week, and I never liked using those straps. It seemed like cheating, to me.

I shut down on that hand and he dropped to his knees with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whine. Sort of like a puppy makes when he's stuck on the stairs. I wasn't letting up, and he made another mistake, managing to get to his feet and taking a swing at me.

He hit me on the side of the head, and while it didn't feel amazing, I think it hurt his hand more than it did me. I jerked him across the table, turning it over on Alicia's toes, in the process. She gave a yelp as I lifted Battey into a fireman's carry. I took him to the front door, passing Canton and Bailey who were standing in the kitchen doorway with wide eyes. He didn't struggle all that much as I carried him out on the porch.

We had two large Pyracantha shrubs growing on each side of the porch, and I unloaded Battey into the one on the left. He shrieked as he fell into the middle of the bush. Evidently, he wasn't into acupuncture. He continued to make annoying high-pitched sounds as he extracted himself. He ran for the car, his clothes in tatters, looking as if he had been attacked by a flock of angry cats. Rubber burned as he tore off down the street. Why were all these visitors in such a hurry, I wondered?

"Was that your stud, Mom?" asked Canton. "He looked pretty sharp, if you like the slimy type. I did manage a quick look at his face as Dad tossed him into those bushes. I can see why you fell for him."

"Yeah, what a great idea that was," added Bailey. "Like Dad, Canton and I all wanted to meet the guy who's been banging you. What did you expect Dad to do? How did you think we'd react to meeting the asshole responsible for breaking up our family?"

"He didn't break up our family!" insisted Alicia as she glanced nervously at the door. "We should at least make sure he's okay."

"Don't worry about the prick," I replied calmly. "I'll call one of his other girlfriends to check on him. He'll be fine."

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and hit a programmed number while placing the phone on speaker. "Hello, Tom? This is Patrick. I felt I should inform you about the situation where our wives work, at Jones and Blarney."

"How are you, Patrick? I haven't seen you since the last company picnic," replied Tom. "I enjoyed teaming up with you and winning the horseshoe tournament."

"Thanks. I had fun at the last party, too. The reason I'm calling is I just tossed a horse's ass, rather than a shoe, into the fucking bushes next to my front door. It was George Battey. Alicia's worried he may be hurt. I thought Marilyn might want to drive over and help him out."

"I know Marilyn works with George, but why in hell would she want to help him out after you tossed his ass? What aren't you telling me?" asked Tom calmly.

"George fucked the shit out of Alicia for a few months and he's been working on your wife the last three weeks. He told a couple of buddies he expects to be laying the pipe with Marilyn by the end of the month. I thought you might want to know about it. Alicia says giving George a few pieces of her ass really helped her peace of mind."

Alicia was making all kinds of weird faces and unusual whimpering sounds as she listened to our conversation.

"No shit? That prick is working on Marilyn now? I'll have a talk with her. I can tell you this. She won't be coming to that asshole's rescue. Sorry to hear about Alicia, but my concern is Marilyn. Thanks for the heads up," concluded Tom.

"Why did you have to tell Tom about my affair with George? Why do you think he's after Marilyn? She's at least five years older than he is, and she's more than a bit overweight," stated Alicia.

"I've done some research on your inspirational lover. I hope you don't think you're special," I replied. "You had to find some inner peace by giving George an inner piece or two. I need to let people know what a slut you are for my peace of mind. Surely you can understand how I feel."

"How can I go to work now?" whined Alicia. "Marilyn will tell everyone about George and me."

"Why is everything about you?" I asked. "If you loved me as much as I loved you, making a few sacrifices should be easy. Allowing the truth to be known is a way to heal. You made me a cuckold for a few months. I'm making you an example for married women to consider before seeking their inner peace with a man other than their husband."

"But I'm going to be called a whore and a slut at work! Why would you want me to suffer that kind of verbal abuse?

"Can you tell me why anyone would think of you as a slut or a whore?" I asked in apparent bewilderment.

"Because you just told Marilyn's husband that I slept with George Battey!" shrieked Alicia.

"I still don't understand why people would consider you a slut," I countered.

"How can you be so dense?" demanded Alicia. "I'm a married woman and I slept with another man!"

"Ah, I see. You're telling me your actions are the very definition of slut," I responded as a light seemed to go on. "You behaved exactly as a married slut would. Doesn't that mean you are a slut? Didn't you know the definition when you let Georgie-Boy into your panties? Did you think the people at work would think of you as a heroine, or a martyr, or maybe a role model for married women everywhere?"

"I didn't expect anyone to know about George and me," explained an exasperated Alicia.

"I don't expect Marilyn will tell anyone you slutted around for Battey," I stated firmly.

"How could you ever expect Marilyn to not tell everyone at work about my relationship with George?" demanded Alicia angrily. "No one ever keeps a secret like that. It's just too juicy!"

"Yet you thought your sordid affair would remain unknown? How could you ever expect an affair to go undetected?" I snapped. "Everyone loves to find out other people are cheating and then talk about it. You must know that."

"If I had stopped a week sooner, you never would have known about it! As it is, no one at work knew about it until you went and told Marilyn just now," insisted Alicia. "You've created an embarrassing situation for me."

"Really? Why would you be embarrassed? Who could find fault with your search for inner peace?" I sarcastically asked. "Are you ashamed of your extramarital activities? Did you make some bad choices to be sure you made the right choice by marrying me? Maybe you made the right choice when you realized you made the wrong choice marrying me? Tell me why you'd be embarrassed because your coworkers think you're a cheating slut when it was for the greater good? You had to have known you would, or at least could, be found out. You made the choice to risk the embarrassment along with the choice to fuck George to find out if marrying me was the right choice."

"Wow, Dad! That's some deep stuff," observed Canton from the kitchen doorway. "I may be young, but that was impressive."

"You shouldn't be listening to a personal conversation between your father and me," Alicia told Canton. "Your father is using adult language which you should not be hearing. He's not his normal easy-going self."

"Yeah, you're right about that," agreed Bailey. "Dad does seem a bit emotional about you sleeping with that dirt-bag. It sounds like you made a choice without asking Dad. We all know he wouldn't have agreed, so you never mentioned it. Now Dad is making a tough choice without your approval. It seems fair to me."

"We were lucky you and Dad made the choice to celebrate at the football hall of fame with Bailey's Irish Cream and not at the baseball hall of fame with beer. If that happened, we'd be named Bud and Cooper. That would be even worse than Bailey and Canton," commented Canton. "Who names their kids after a minor Ohio city and an Irish whiskey?"

"Hey! We were considering the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland and drinking Harvey Wall Bangers," I teased. "You really are quite fortunate."

"Thanks so much, Dad," replied Bailey. "I guess we won't be having any siblings, unless Battey's swimmers bat a thousand. You're not planning another surprise for us, are you, Mom? If you are, I won't be babysitting the little bastard, pardon my French."

"Look what you're doing!" Alicia exclaimed. "You've got them cursing and talking like you!"

"I don't think I've ever heard them curse," I admitted. "Girls, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"Well, we don't usually curse," Canton explained. "There are some situations that just seem to require cursing. Like when someone tries to steal your boyfriend, you call them a ratchet bitch."

"Hey," Bailey cut in. "That pretty much describes what Mom did."

Alicia dissolved in a flood of tears and ran upstairs. The girls gave each other a fist bump. "We don't want to live with her, Dad," Canton said. "I'm sorry about the cursing, but we're going to make sure she doesn't want us. We're going to make her life hell if she tries to make us live with her."

I had to laugh. "Come over here," I said. I hugged my two little blonde beauties up and realized that my life might suck in one area, but it sure didn't when it came to my baby-dolls.

I managed to co-exist in the house with Alicia, despite her constant whining and bitching about how "unfair" I was being for the next two weeks. I finally got the paperwork done and I was ready to move. I had filed for divorce, and the papers had been served. There was a "cooling down" period before there would be a court hearing. I was cooling down by getting ready to move.

The girls went furniture shopping with me, and I had the essentials. I would add to my collection as I had opportunity. What I didn't know was that between the time the girls got home from school and the time Alicia and I got home from work, the girls had been quietly moving their things to the new house. I took a look around one last time, Alicia protesting all the while, and Bailey and Canton came down the stairs pulling suitcases. There was a monumental explosion, rivaling Yellowstone at its worst.

"You can't leave, and you certainly can't take the girls!" protested Alicia. "I only slept with George Battey because it was my patriotic duty! I can explain it all now."

"Seriously, Mom?" questioned a disbelieving Bailey. "We'll be back for the rest of our stuff tomorrow afternoon."

"Please wait a minute, girls," I asked. "Your mother has piqued my interest with this one. I'd like to hear her tell us how it was her patriotic duty to sleep with Battey."

"If you'll just wait ten minutes, I'll have people here to corroborate my story," insisted Alicia. "I couldn't tell you sooner because of national security, but I've been given permission to reveal why I slept with George. You'll see I had a very good reason."

"Dad! You can't be falling for that line," complained Canton. "We're just teenagers, but we know it's crazy to think she had an affair with Battey for Uncle Sam."

"On the surface, you'd appear to be correct, but I've got to hear your mother's presentation," I replied with a grin. "This has to be one for the books. We can spare a few more minutes."

Alicia kept looking out the window while promising we'd understand her situation and even we'd apologize to her when we knew all the facts. A well used KIA Rio finally pulled into the driveway and two people climbed up, and out.

Once they were in the living room, Alicia introduced them. "This is Special Agent Smith. She's with the FBI. She was in charge of the investigation."

Agent Smith stood before us in a dark trench coat, dark glasses and some kind of floppy hat. The coat was short enough to reveal a set of rather heavy legs encased in dark nylons. She wore a pair of black New Balance sneakers.

"To her left is Agent Wesson. She's with Homeland Security," stated Alicia smugly. "What they're about to tell you is going to be a huge surprise, but every word will be true. Please tell my husband and daughters how I came to help you as an undercover operative."

"Mr. Swayze, our country owes a huge debt of gratitude to your wife. She risked her life and jeopardized her marriage in service to this great nation," began Special Agent Smith. "We've had a problem with the theft of delicate information which ultimately exposed the identities of operatives we have imbedded in foreign countries. These resources were being systematically revealed and eliminated.

"Mr. Battey was suspected to be a key player, but we were unable to link him to the security breach. About six months ago, our operatives observed Mr. Battey's rather keen interest in your wife, Alicia," continued Smith.

"We saw an opportunity, so we asked your wife to work with us to ensnare Battey. I admit she was extremely reluctant to participate in our operation, but we were finally able to overcome her objections. Your wife is truly a great American. Her love of country allowed us to put an end to a serious and deadly security breach this afternoon."

"Are you telling me you asked my wife to sleep with Battey to gain his trust? She reluctantly did so for the greater good of the United States?" I asked in amazement.

"She needed to gain his complete confidence, thus it became necessary for her to bed Mr. Battey," assured Smith. "She was able to use her feminine wiles to persuade Battey into revealing his contacts. We've just finished rounding these actors up. We're finally able to reveal to her family her role in a top-secret government operation. We must insist you tell no one about your wife's heroics. This information must remain in this room. It's a matter of national security."

"Wow, that's simply amazing," I marveled. "Alicia's vagina is some sort of national treasure, or maybe it's a secret weapon! Am I permitted to ask a few questions?"

"Our time is limited, but we can probably answer a few," stated Agent Wesson, speaking for the first time. She was dressed similarly to Smith, except she was taller and thinner, with a stern expression.

"How did a pencil necked geek become a top secret agent for a foreign power? What country was he working for and how long has he been selling our secrets?" I asked.

"That was simply his cover," replied Wesson. "A few years ago, he posed as a short order cook. Before that he was a tattoo artist. I'm not at liberty to name the foreign power, or how long he's been selling us out."

"Can you tell me exactly what carnal acts Alicia was required to perform with Battey to gain his trust?" I questioned.

"Well, it would be the usual stuff men and women do," replied Wesson with an obvious blush. "I'm sure I don't need to get too graphic, especially with your daughters in the room."

"That's okay," volunteered Canton. "We're pretty curious, too. We'd like to know exactly what Mom had to give up in service to her country? Like, say, her ass?"

"Young Lady!" yelled Alicia. "You can't ask things like that. You shouldn't even know what it means."

"How about blowjobs?" asked an unfazed Canton. "Did Mom give Battey a trip around the world in order to save it?"

Wesson looked to her counterpart for some sort of help. It was obvious the girls' questions had surprised them both. To be honest, I was reeling from them as well.

Smith seemed to mull over the question in an attempt to determine an appropriate response. She finally thought of an answer which she apparently felt was reasonable. "Yes, but your mother never swallowed."

"I think that's enough questions," declared a red-faced Alicia. "These agents have much more important things to do than sit around talking explicitly about sex with teenage girls."

"I have one more question," insisted Bailey as she looked toward Smith. "My class went to see the local theater's production of "Our Town" last fall. Didn't you play, Emily? You were amazing!"

"You really thought so?" gushed Smith. "That was a difficult role to get exactly right. I've received a lot of nice comments concerning that part."

"Agent Smith was working undercover at the time," blustered Alicia while trying to push Smith toward the door. "These agents really have to leave now. Let me thank you both while I walk you to your car."

A minute later, Alicia returned to the living room and looked expectantly at the three of us. Canton was the first to break into gales of laughter, but Bailey was close behind. It took a little time before they were able to speak clearly enough to be understood.

"Your mother never swallowed," mimicked Bailey as she forced her voice down an octave. The two girls immediately began laughing again.

"Did you see their faces when I asked about Mom giving up her ass?" recalled Canton with mirth. "Who came up with the names Smith and Wesson, anyway?"

Alicia had dropped into a chair and was softly sobbing as her daughters continued to ridicule her cover story. That was when I realized Alicia had actually expected us to fall for her bizarre explanation, even after Bailey recognized the woman called "Smith" from an amateur stage production. For the first time, I felt a little of Alicia's pain. She was truly grasping at straws to save our marriage.

Apparently, Canton noticed her misery as well. "That was quite a story. You have to admit it was pretty hard to believe, Mom. In fact, we didn't."

"Yeah," agreed Bailey. "If we believed it, we'd probably forgive you. Giving up your ass for America is as patriotic as it gets. How about you, Dad? If Mom saved the free world by banging Battey, don't you think you'd have to forgive her, too?"

"Well... as long as she didn't swallow," I wisecracked much to the amusement of my daughters.

Once she had managed to control her laughter, Bailey declared, "There you have it, Mom. We'd all be willing to forgive you if we believed you slept with Battey for God and country. The problem you have is the two lady agents named Smith and Wesson simply weren't believable in any way. At least one of them is in an acting troupe. She was much better in "Our Town" than she was as an FBI agent."