Ah... Honey, We Have to Talk Ch. 01

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This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos.

Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the express authorization of the author is strictly prohibited.

My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are a shitshow, like life.

One more thing, you are on an erotica site reading smut. The last thing we need to hear is about your morals. What are you doing here reading porn and smut then trashing the writers for it?

I moderate comments. Be warned: Make any derogatory or violent comments, lie about the story content to influence readers, or give me a lecture on morality, and your comment is gone.

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Sand Box

There is nothing more screwed up than when politicians decide to get involved in military operations. They always mess things up in one way or another with the law of unintended consequences.

But like good soldiers we were, we accepted the change in SOP and piled on the civilian jet, taking us first to Germany and then ' back to The World' . It was an old phrase used by old veterans, meaning going back to the states, but someone on the team had brought this Vietnam war paperback with the phrase in it; since we had all read it, the saying stuck.

The story was typical war in the jungle stuff. Nothing to compare with our desert war, but the phrase 'back to The World' or 'The World' had become a fixture in our team's conversations. Before long, ' The World' encompassed everything we missed about life where we all grew up. Family, friends, girls, fast cars, TV shows, food... did I mention women?

I was thinking of my wife Leila and the twins when we were briefed. She didn't know where I was from day-to-day. It was the life of special forces wives. I felt for Leila. She had two little ones to keep track of and wondered if she would be a widow by the end of the day -- each day, she woke up alone in our bed. But she was an army brat and ex-army herself, so she understood the lifestyle. At least my deployments were shorter than for regular army types. My most extended deployment had been six months. This time I was coming home a month early and could not even tell her I was flying back.

Generally, after a mission, we would debrief in-country (Iraq or Afghanistan), and if any of the brass from the states had questions, they did it via video live conference. Not this time.

The brass were all freaked out as we had found an underground lab and manufacturing complex under a fake village in the desert. We didn't know what we were getting into as we had been targeting some lunatic mullah and his band of fellow lunatics. What we found froze everything and made our entire mission classified even to the command staff supporting us.

And that earned us a trip 'back to The World'

***

Back to the World

Not only were we not debriefed right away, but we were also shoved in a plane along with our entire team and flown back to the states. There the secretary of defense himself, some Agency suits, and a bunch of generals did the debriefing. Surprisingly they asked intelligent questions and seemed alarmed of sorts. Good, let them work for their job for a change. This was as close to stress as they got to these days.

Our officers did most of the talking after an early debrief phase. That allowed us, shooters, to sit back enjoying the free coffee and cake from some local high-end catering joint. Soldiers love sleep, pussy, and free food. One of the female Agency suits looked spectacular in that pencil skirt and heels. But all she did was remind me of Leila. Leila in a pencil skirt. Leila in heels. Leila in nothing but stockings and...

We were sworn to secrecy and shipped back without being allowed to call family or get near a computer to email. Two days after we got home, it became apparent that we 'operators' that went in the facility knew little about the technical aspects of the discovery. So we were reminded by the SECDEF's flunky general not to repeat a thing we saw unless we wanted to spend the rest of our lives in Leavenworth Military Prison. Trust me, that is one place no one wants to visit, let alone reside in.

So I found myself in DC trying to call home. I don't know what came over me, but I decided to surprise Leila. So I didn't call in advance and showed up at Fort... never mind where; that's classified too. And you forget any of the mission crap too. That never happened. Well, maybe it did, and maybe not. But what did happen was me returning early from 'The Sandbox' to 'The World' and walking into a quiet and empty house.

Her minivan not being there was not out of the ordinary. She ran errands around town and visited other wives. Our furniture was still there, and so was all my stuff and most of the kids and Leila's things. But enough of her clothes and toiletries were missing to know she had gone somewhere. And the kids' beds were missing, along with their toys. Hm...

Now we special operators are not chosen because we panic easily, so I didn't. But to say I was not worried just then would be a lie. Our answering machine was set and had the canned message from us both saying we were unavailable, would answer as soon as possible, and 'please leave a message.' That was standard for our operator community. No one was supposed to know we were deployed, so our spouses never left messages that could tip someone of their men being anything but the regular military or out of the country.

There was a message from the pediatrician's office saying they had rescheduled the kid's appointment to two weeks from three days ago, and that was it. No other clues as to where she and the kids were. Any thoughts of surprising her went out the window. I reached for my cell and called her. It rang just twice before she answered.

"Jake, is that you?" I heard her say in surprise. She had caller ID and could tell it was me.

"Yeah," I replied. "I got home early. Where are you?"

"Ohio with my family. I'm at mom and dad's. The house was so empty, Jake," I heard her start to cry, "I had to get out of there and come see family."

"It's OK, baby," I replied, relieved that she and the kids were safe. "I have a week off. I'm flying up to you after I swing by my parents to see if they are OK."

"I can't wait to see you, Jake. Mom and Dad say hello and have a safe trip. The babies are fine and walking. You are going to love them. Maybe you will be here when they start talking."

"I hope so, babe," I replied, relieved that my family life was still on track.

"Jake, I'm sorry I worried you, but I did as you asked. I didn't change our voicemail message and left no notes where I was going. But I had to take the kid's beds with me. They won't sleep anywhere else. Are you upset with me?"

"No, baby," I replied. "You did right. I'll talk to you when I get up there. Say hi to everyone. I can't wait to see you."

We talked some more, told each other, "I love you," and then reluctantly hung up. After everything that had happened, I couldn't wait to be with my wife and the kids.

***

Visiting Dad

I had planned to drive to my parent's home nearby then fly from there to Ohio. My folks had moved from Indiana to be closer to us once my baby sister went to college. Dad was a consultant and could do his work from anywhere. Mom was a financial manager and got herself certified in the new state and got a job locally. As it was the middle of the day, I expected mom to be at work. So her car not being there was expected. My dad's truck was in the driveway, so I would be having beers with pops as soon as I got in.

Pop used to work out of town back when we were growing up. Our connection was spotty then. Now he was around more, but I wasn't. Still, we always got along in the way fathers and sons, or men do - mainly talking about sports, cars, inconsequential stuff, and laughing over stupid jokes. It's a guy thing.

I remembered I had a key to their place but decided to ring for some reason. My dad's study was on the first floor nearby. He should have opened the door quickly, but I had to ring the doorbell again. Nothing -- no response. He was probably in the latrine... sorry, the bathroom. We army types call bathrooms latrines like navy people call them heads - an occupational habit.

The door finally opened, and my dad smiled at me nervously. He had shorts on, but he looked like he had tossed his shirt on quickly as only two buttons were in place, and his hair was messed up. And then I saw her.

She was, is, a striking brunette with mid-length straight hair and slightly smeared red lipstick. And yes, some of it was on my father's neck, cheek, and a bit on his lips. What the fuck!

"Randy," she asked my father, "do you want me to go?"

The brunette had a blue sundress on that she had clearly zipped up in haste and held her white shoes in one hand. She looked so familiar. Shit, I knew her!

"Mrs. Rivers?" I asked in surprise. She nodded and smiled nervously at first, then beamed and touched my father's shoulder.

"Let him in, Randy," she said, still smiling at me a bit nervously but not embarrassed. Strange that.

Mrs. Rivers. Our neighbor from Indiana. All us boys in the old neighborhood had the hots for Joanna Rivers. She was a bit younger than my parents and had two daughters and a husband. Yet she was here out of state with my father while mom was at work?

"Come in, son," he said, stepping aside. "It's not what you think."

Yeah right! An hour ago, I thought I would hear that from my wife had I surprised her with some Jody between her legs. That is, if my wife was a cheater like my father apparently was.

"Dad," I said, ignoring Joanna for the moment, "it sure looks like it is what I think."

"I'll get us some beers," Joanna said, smiling at my father in a way my mother should be and usually did. Then she left for the kitchen.

"Sit down, Jake," dad said. "We need to talk."

Again, something I did not expect to hear from my own father. The apparent cheater!

"Dad," I said in a low tone so Joanna could not hear, "what is going on? Why is she here? What are you doing... behind mom's back?"

I noticed then that there had been no guilt in my father's face when he opened the door or after. It was more a look of inconvenience and acceptance of the inevitable maybe, but no guilt. Now he nodded and took a deep breath.

"Son," he said, "Your mother and I are no longer together."

"What! Since when? What happened? Did she catch you cheating on her? Dad, at your age?"

"What do you mean at my age? I'm not even fifty yet." Dad replied, feigning indignation with a smirk.

"Don't underestimate your father, Jake," Joanna said, bringing three beers in and passing me one. "He is better than my husband, who is younger."

"That's a bit more information than I need, Mrs. Rivers," I said to her and looked back at my dad. She smirked at my father before she took a swig and sat across from him, crossing her long tan legs.

WTF! She was shamelessly flaunting herself to him, and from what I could tell, Dad had already sampled what she had to offer.

"Dad, this is out of line," I said to him. "Maybe I need to leave..."

"No... please stay. You need to know what is going on. I mean, what has happened since you deployed. You may not like what you hear."

"What? That you are cheating on mom?" I asked, staring at both of them accusingly.

"He is not," Joanna said, looking right at me. "Randy, please tell him, or I will."

"Tell me what, Dad?" I asked impatiently.

It was clear by now that my father was stalling because he did not want to say what he needed to tell me. I wondered if my sister knew. I pondered how long this had been going on. I wondered how hurt my mother would be when she found out. How hurt she must be if she already knew. No wonder it was hard for him to say it. As if saying it would make it true.

"It started before you left Jake," he said.

"Oh, dad..." I said, so disappointed in him.

"Jake, please let your father talk," Joanna said, placing a hand over my father's for support.

I was irritated at her, but by then, I was accepting the sad reality of it all and reluctantly did as she asked.

"It started about a year ago," he continued. "I was away on business and called home. It was about eight in the evening. I figured your mom would be home by then, and we could talk. But there was no answer on the home phone or her cell. In fact, her cell went to voicemail all night. I left messages, and eventually, I went to sleep. In the morning I called again and again, no answer. By then, I had to go to one last meeting before catching a flight home. I did call her again from the airport near noon and finally got a hold of her."

He continued after a sip of his beer.

"She was a bit nervous and distracted, but she said she had left her phone off as it charged, and she forgot to turn it on. I thought that was bullshit since your mom lives with her cell on her hand, checking messages from friends, family, and work. But I was getting ready to board, so I let it go and flew home."

I didn't like the sound of this already but listened patiently.

"Things seemed to be OK that night, but she kept looking at messages on her phone. When we went to bed, she didn't take the phone with us like she usually does. When I got up later in the night to go to the bathroom, I looked for it. I saw her charger plugged in the wall and the phone connected to it on her desk. For the first time since we both got smartphones, she had a password on it. I left it where it was and went back to bed."

"Two days later, Angie was late from work. She called to say she was with a couple of women having drinks after work. I could hear people talking and the sounds of a bar. And I could hear a man talking to her coworker Bev nearby. Your mom said she would be home soon and then hung up. For the first time in our marriage, I noticed that she had not said I love you before she hung up the phone."

"When she had not come home or called by eleven, I called her. Again, I got her voice mail. I left her a terse message asking where she was and if she needed a ride home if she drank too much. But I received no reply."

"That doesn't sound like Mom," I said.

"I didn't think so at first either, Jake," dad replied. "And it was not like her when she strolled in around one in the morning smelling of booze and cigarettes. She brushed by me, saying she had to go pee, and locked the door to our bathroom. Before long, I could hear the shower running. She eventually came out and said she was tired and had to go to bed.

"I asked her where she had been this late, and she just blurted out as if I was a bother that she had been with 'the girls,' letting off steam. I didn't know if this was normal for her when I was out of town. She had never said she went out drinking, and she had never done this with me being in town either as far back as I could remember.

"I went to the bathroom then and looked in the garbage bin. There were two recently used douche dispensers she had just used."

He stopped to let me sort out what he had just said. Both he and Joanna were staring at me, waiting to figure out what my father had just told me. What dad was telling me sent a cold chill up my spine. The solemn look on Joanna's face did nothing to allay my fears of what Dad was implying. Dad had probably shared all this with Joanna.

Mother had rushed to the bathroom to shower and douche... twice... after a drunken night out and coming home late. No guy wants to hear stuff like that about their mother. It didn't sound good. Crap!

"The next day," dad continued. "I contacted a private investigator."

"You had him follow mom?" I asked incredulously, then realized that it was not out of line.

"I had cameras installed in the house, microphones in her car, and even one in her office," he said, looking back at me nodding.

The look on his face I will never forget. All this may have happened many months ago to me, but it seemed fresh in his mind and clearly painful. Dad had discovered the hard way something most of us men dread to find - that their wife was probably cheating on them. Mom's actions when she came home drunk late were indicative of shadiness at best. And as painful as they were to me, that went double for my father. I could see the heartache in his expression and felt terrible for him. But I still had a hard time getting my brain around that my mother had cheated on him.

"I couldn't bug or check her phone, but the investigator gave me three bugs to place on her favorite purses. A good thing as the next day she took a different one when she went to work. I was in my office when she left, and she didn't even say goodbye or anything else."

"I don't know what happened then, but all of a sudden, she started coming home on time religiously, and there was nothing in the surveillance. And her phone no longer had a passcode. I checked it, and it was clean. She said that it had acted up and that she had taken it to our provider for service. That they had factory reset it cleaning all her conversations and email out."

"Nothing?" I asked incredulously. "So you had been wrong? I don't understand?"

"Your mother had planned ahead, Jake," Dad said, raising his voice a bit. "I found out later that she had a bug placed in my home office. Your mother had heard me call the investigator and knew she was being watched. But for a month or so, she was like before. She even tossed out an occasional I love you, but it was halfhearted. Our sex life was down to nothing by then, and to be honest, I wasn't trying in that area anymore. I knew she had cheated on me that night she came home late, and probably on the night I called and could not reach her.

"But you have no proof," I replied.

"A spouse knows Jake, "Joanna said. "I denied the signs of my husband cheating on me and learned the hard way to trust my instincts."

I listened politely but otherwise ignored her.

"Wait," I said, shaking my head. "Dad, you and mom moved here at mom's insistence to be near the kids and me. And you seemed fine when you did. Why would she be for that?"

"We had talked about moving close to you to be near our only grandchildren," Dad continued. "She had been against it at first. Then, after the incidents I described to you, she changed her mind and wanted to move. To be honest, I saw it as a chance for us to start over and put that lousy time behind us. I was still under the impression that she had an indiscretion we could get past.

"Things seemed OK during the two months it took us to make the move, find a new place, and turn the old house over to the realtor to sell. Her financial management company got her a job here and a house we could trade for. We got here, and I, of course, was back at work from home and traveling as before, only from a different location. Your mother got certified here and started working for the same company."

"Did things get better?" I asked.

"Nothing was resolved, Jake," dad said. "When I tried bringing it up, she said I imagined things. I knew she was lying for sure when she said, "you are accusing me of things you have no proof of." Jake, when she said that, she was looking away from me, and I saw her reflection on the glass case. She was smirking. I knew then she was lying - that she had cheated and was still covering up. I said no more then, and decided to get a local investigator."

Joanna had gotten us all beers again.

"This time," Dad said, "I got the idea to hire an investigator when I passed the offices of one when I went out shopping. She was at work, so I had time to do so. Only for the first time, I had this premonition about being watched. I don't know why, but at that moment, I realized Angie had figured out I had her watched in Indiana and had changed her ways and habits. So I noted the number of the investigator and kept driving."