After the Interview

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The family party was winding down. There was one more present to open, from her husband. What more could there be, she wondered, after the beautiful piece of jewelry which now adorned her slim, regal neck? She opened the box to find a set of legal papers. They were an application for an official change of name. The chosen name was Felicity.

Her world tottered and shook. Did he know? What were the rest of the papers: a divorce petition? Panicked, she scrabbled through the papers to the bottom of the box. There was nothing more. She looked at her husband. He was smiling lovingly at her.

"You don't have to use that name if you don't want to," he said. "I chose it because it means happiness, and over the last 18 years, you have brought more happiness to me than I could ever have imagined. I love you."

Felicity smiled back at him, all her love in her face. Absolute discretion, she thought. It's what loving wives do. But that had been way too close. That brief moment, completely unanticipated, forcing her to imagine everything she loved collapsing in ruins around her, had shaken her to her core. Worse, she had no idea whether, or when, it could happen again. Had she left some loose end, something that would lead to her husband's unwelcome enlightenment? She shuddered.

"What is it, Mom? Goose walk over your grave?" her son asked, laughing. If only you knew, she thought.

*****

In a small, silent, but very well appointed room in the city, another gathering was about to begin. The four men in the room would have called it a party, but their grey suits, pale faces and habitually cautious expressions indicated it was likely to be a very dull party indeed. One spy, one accountant, a military intelligence officer out of uniform, and a senior diplomat, awaited their honored guest. Each man, and the department he represented, was indebted to him.

He, too, was an accountant. By his perseverance and skill, supplemented by ideas from his wife, and a certain amount of previous experience, he had assembled the information that brought down a prostitution ring that a foreign government had set up for blackmailing purposes. Today his achievements would be celebrated (in a suitably quiet way, of course), his bonus check would be paid, and he would be given his next assignment. He had thrown a wrinkle into the plans when he had insisted that his wife and children be part of the celebration, because she'd had as much to do with their triumph as he had.

The door opened silently. David Jones entered, wearing a grey suit. The lovely woman on his arm also wore a grey suit, coincidentally the same one she had worn on those momentous occasions five years before. Its effect was nothing like the men's suits. There was nothing grey at all about the three children who followed them into the room. David introduced his wife and children to the four grey men. Their closed faces thawed in the warmth of Jill's smile (and the guarded but sincere appreciation of her radiant beauty), and melted completely as big sister Deirdre competently assisted Evan and Claire in their social responsibilities.

True to Jen's prediction, David had found work less than a week after Felicity closed. The government salary wasn't as much as he'd made with SuperCorp, but was comfortable enough. Life with Jill was harder to resume, especially in bed, as he wrestled with the knowledge of her unfaithfulness. He knew the why of it, and was still absolutely confident in her love and truthfulness, but could not always fight off the feelings that rose unbidden in his heart. Jill was still dealing with her shame, as well. They gave each other and their marriage everything they had, but they both knew there was something they were missing, some way they were looking at things that kept them from moving forward.

They had found the missing piece when they attended some friends' renewal of their wedding vows. They now realized they had been trying to heal their marriage, to get back to what they had before. That wasn't possible. Their old vows were broken; in a good cause, but broken nonetheless, and the breaking had changed them both. They would start anew, bringing the knowledge they had gained through sorrow to a new marriage that would be the stronger for it.

Jill and David thought they should intervene when Evan insisted that the senior diplomat had lost their thumb war and owed him a piggy-back ride, but the smile on the man's face stopped them. They could not know, as they held hands and smiled at each other, that their Evan was giving the old diplomat something he sorely needed, but could not get from his own troubled family. Little Claire had the toughest task, entertaining the spy and the accountant, but she went at it with gusto and considerable native ability, and achieved complete success. Meanwhile, Deirdre, pretty in her new white party dress and sophisticated as only a ten year old can be, was holding the military intelligence officer enthralled with her conversation: especially why he should study mathematics. (She herself was very good at it, everyone said.)

This is more like it, Jill thought, as she looked at her husband through shining eyes. This time, there's nothing for either of us to be ashamed of, no hurts we have to get past, only a few grumpy words when the stress was at its worst.

The business of the party was attended to efficiently; the refreshments consumed, and it was time to go. The military intelligence officer felt an unaccustomed tear in his eye when Deirdre shook his hand, saying "I enjoyed our conversation, and I hope to see you again." If Evan was disappointed that there wasn't time for one more piggy-back ride, the diplomat was more so. The four grey men, each in his own way, thought it was quite the pleasantest such occasion he could remember.

"Congratulations, my dear husband." The children were in bed, and Jill and David were relaxing together on the love seat.

"We did it together, just as always," David responded, gazing lovingly at his wife as she nestled in his arm. "Someday, I hope I can convince you just how much help your listening and that quick, agile mind of yours are to me."

"How did you convince them?"

"I didn't. I just told them you needed to be there, and that was that. Now do you understand why I asked you to wear grey?"

Jill chuckled. "I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself." She became thoughtful. "Did the suit bother you, David? Did it remind you of...?"

"It did remind me, but it didn't bother me. For one thing, we both know we'll never do anything like that again. For another, it reminded me how far we've come since then. Third, it showed me that my amazing wife still looks fabulous in something she wore five years and two kids ago."

Jill smiled and kissed her husband tenderly. "I wonder if Thelma's told her husband yet." Jill tried to imagine living the rest of her life with that kind of sword of Damocles over her head: wondering if her husband would find out, and what would happen if he did. No, that wasn't for her. Keep your promises, tell the truth, and hide nothing. That was the way to happiness. She clasped both arms around her husband.

"Does this mean you have the day off tomorrow?" Jill asked.

"Not hardly," laughed David. "So we'd better make the most of tonight, hadn't we?"

They did.

*****

And the sausage? That's another tale. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.

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KiwihunterKiwihunterabout 1 month ago

You made one BIG mistake which makes the whole premise of the story fall apart. From the language and tone in the original story was set in either the UK or New Zealand. Being civilised countries, sex work is quite legal and normal. Your story therefore falls apart because there is no vice squad.

WetheNorthWetheNorth3 months ago

Does that make sense?

Your writing is par excellence but you just had to use the latest LW cliché didn't you?

AnonymousAnonymous5 months ago

How you (the author) managed to take an intriguing and conflicted plot and untie the 'Gordian Knot' so thoroughly is quite the kudo to your skills and brilliance. It was amazing and hard work. Well done.

AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

You can't make a silk marriage out of a whore's cunt. And you should have picked some other profession. A CPA, just like a plumber, doesn't succeed because people like him or her. They succeed because they know how to keep things in order, be they money or shit. You can't "black ball" either one who knows how to do the job.

AnonymousAnonymous7 months ago

Excellent story. Well written with a good plot and characters you can identify with. What a sacrifice both MC made and I'm glad it worked out for them. BardnotBard

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