All is Fair in Love and War

All those having sex are 18 and over.

The historical characters, places and events in this story that are prominently mentioned are pertinent; some citing their reference. Other names, companies, and locations are purely fictitious as is the entire story.

On this note, I would like to dedicate this story (even the tongue in cheek parts) to all those in the armed services. Both past and present. Thank you for your time and sacrifice.

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Chapter 1: Learning from History

It is a brilliant early September day. The sun shines clear in the deep, blue sky. It's my first time being back in uniform at West Point, albeit a different one. I had enjoyed my studies especially History or more specific, Military History. That was a different time; only 8 years ago, but it might as well have been 8 lifetimes.

My name is Harry (no last name--as my family has a rich tradition). Both my grandfather and father had graduated in the top 1/3 of their respective classes and had gone on to excellent Army careers. My grandfather had a metal plate in his head and my father a busted shoulder, both courtesy of snipers. Being 6'6", I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of being cannon fodder or sniper fodder. Having opted out of college after only 2 years, Granddad and Father thought I was coward. They even went as far as mailing me white feathers.

I am not a coward! However, if you don't learn from history, you are bound to make the same mistakes. The lesson learned was that most of my male and female relatives had failed marriages. Grandpa was on his second wife, while dad # 3. Military life can be hard on a marriage.

No, I was in love. I wanted to devote myself to Helen, my high school sweetheart.

Thinking of Helen, I picture Anna Kournikova, the tennis player. That was because I first saw Helen on the high school (Troy, NY) tennis courts. The flash of blonde hair caught my eye. When she reached up to serve, I can honestly say, I was smitten. That sleek body along with the strength to power serves and two-handed backhands had me drooling. 5'6", 122 Lb of girlish muscle in all the right places and sexy curves elsewhere.

When I think about it, her personality matched her competitive edge. Seeing my shyness, she had no trouble calling out, "Did you have a good look?"

Now some might have taken this as a put down, I just nodded, waiting for what she might say next. When she kept locking eyes with mine, I snapped back with "Yo, nice racket."

'Did I really just say that?'

"You were only watching my racket?"

I hopefully caught up by adding, "Yeah, I was wondering what was causing the racket?" Reflexively scanning her body, "Like I said, nice racket." Obviously, between my timidity and poor high school moves, I wasn't getting much action. I dated some but mostly was going steady with my right hand.

I'm not sure if she had pity, but she carried on with, "I've noticed you too."

"Really?"

"Yeah, left tackle. The blindside."

"Yeah, I'm big, but slow," I meant as a joke.

"Yeah, the coach should put you at right tackle."

"Wow, I think I'm in love." Again, as a joke but in all good jokes there is a bit of truth.

"Because I have a nice racket?"

"That too," and getting into a groove, "and someone who understands sport's finer points."

"And, who can whip your butt in tennis."

"I have no doubt, only because I can't take my eyes off your nice racket."

And we were off. We became an item, then a couple. She did kick my butt in tennis but joked, "if I played my cards right, she may let me wear her letterwoman's jacket--and that's all." We were both 18. Virgins. Love was in the air; and sex.

I had been determined to follow in my family's footsteps and attended West Point. But my heart was two hours away. While my grades were good (especially history as previously mentioned), my attitude suffered. 'Soldier (how I addressed myself when deep in thought), shape up!' I tried to rouse myself. Two minutes later I was thinking of Helen again.

I dropped out at the start of 2nd year. You would have thought I started a nuclear attack as most of my relatives honed in. Moving back with mom and Al helped. They were very supportive. He was technically my step-dad but we all called him Al.

I started to apprentice for Al and Helen was going to community college. We spent as much free time as we could together. Al was fast tracking my apprenticeship and I proposed to Helen the next year. Nobody was too thrilled, especially Mr. & Mrs. Achilles--her parents. But she was pregnant. Athena (named to appease Oma and Opa) was born 6 months after we were married.

Marriage was wonderful. It started with a short honeymoon in Niagara Falls where we had sex constantly. It seemed to get even better after we had our two children. Okay, perhaps we did slow down to once a day. It was still bliss.

Time seemed to fly but that's what they say when you are young and having fun. It wasn't just sex. Our life just meshed perfectly. We had sports and competitiveness in common. We did all things as a family. Athena had a tennis racket at age 4, Wally (short for Wellington) a nerf football at 2.

We are now 27. Athena 7 and Wally 6. Al was still important to me because I was wearing his uniform--Al's Plumbing stitched on the breast pocket.

Chapter 2: My Pearl Harbor

When I tapped my breast pocket, I noticed my cell phone was missing. Shit. I retraced my steps. No, not here on the job site. Not in my truck. Did I leave it at home? Home was 35 minutes away. However, one advantage of having your step-father as a boss, was allowing me to drive home worry free. I would make the time up later. Not paying attention to my wife's car but focusing on finding my phone, I looked where I normally pick up my tool box in the garage. There it was. It must have slipped out this morning.

But what is my wife doing home?

Helen had started to work part time when Wally entered school. She should have been at work. I rechecked my phone to see if this was Tuesday, even though I was well aware. An automatic reaction. Maybe she was sick. You can guess what happened next.

I walked into the bedroom hallway and heard Helen fucking her boss. "Oh, Steve, fuck me harder." They were unaware of my presence.

I was stunned, but quickly asked myself 'Soldier, what are you going to do?'

'1: grab your gun and shoot both of them?

1a: grab your gun and just shoot him?

2: barge in and beat the shit out of them?

2a: barge in and beat the shit out of him?'

'Shit soldier, think!!'

'What would Eisenhower do?'

Then it came to me in a 'flash--Don't be rash; Re-group; Re-con; Re-hash'

Putting my phone on record, I placed it in the plant on the upper landing. It pointed towards the bedroom and it had a clear view while partially camouflaged. Then I quietly snuck back out of the house. Watching my house from a few houses away, I placed my truck in park and waited.

Sitting and waiting was the hardest part. My emotions were running in all directions. It seemed like forever. I had to use the truck clock to tell time. It was only 16 minutes since I first arrived home, yet my whole life had just washed away. 31 minutes later, I saw my wife's car start to leave. While she waited for the garage door to close, I pulled in beside her. To say my wife and boss were surprised was an understatement.

"What are you doing home, Honey?"

I closed my door and proceeded to go to the garage while muttering, "I must have left my phone behind."

Helen jumped out of her car "I'll help you find it."

"Don't you and your boss have to get back to work?"

"It's okay, he's working on his laptop. It might have fallen out in the garage. You look there and I'll check the house."

"Okay, you seem more worried about it than me. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just know how you get when you lose your phone."

I spent a few minutes in the garage on my 'pseudo' search. Then went inside. Helen came from the bedroom and closed the door, "Not in there, Honey. Try the Kitchen. I'll check the living room."

I glanced towards the living room and saw her bra hanging over the couch. That's when I first noticed her bouncing breasts as she ran to the living room. She doesn't have huge boobs--B, but enough to notice the pronounced jiggle.

I spent a few minutes pretending to look in the kitchen. Helen rushed to the powder room in the meantime. Coming out and her girls restrained, "Not here either."

"I am going to retrace my steps."

"They're not in the bedroom, I was thorough."

"Let me see.... In the garage I checked my tool box area. I checked my path to the truck. I left the kitchen after making a cup of coffee. Not on the counter. Maybe slipped under the table? No. I came down the stairwell after leaving the bedroom. Let me check the bedroom."

"It's not in there!" she almost shouted.

"Wait, at the top of the landing I remembered I stopped to tie my boot.... Ta da! It must have fallen into the fern."

Helen looked so relieved. She was so insistent I not enter the bedroom, that she didn't notice my poor acting or, the fact I had worn my boots inside the house. This was part of my reconnoitering. I wanted to see if she had a plausible excuse. Had Steve forced himself on her? No, she was just hoping to not get caught.

"So, why is Steve in your car anyways?"

"He just came to quote our house insurance." She was trying to think quick on her feet.

But I responded, "We are already with FTW."

"He thinks he can broker us a better deal. Now that you found your phone, I think we should both get back to work," as she pushed me out of the house and directed me back to my truck.

Chapter 3: Tactical Objectives and Operation 'Get My Share'

As I drove back to the job at West Point, I was deep in thought.

What were my overall objectives? 'Come on soldier this isn't difficult.'

1: Divorce Helen

2: Get to see your kids. Best case scenario--full custody.

3: Mitigate financial damage. Best case--100%. Get real soldier. Okay--80%

Tactics:

1: Quick strike--while the symbolic victory is tantalizing--obtaining overall objectives--highly unlikely--REJECTED

2: Proactive front--get a top-notch lawyer and hope for the best.

3: Long campaign on varied fronts. The waiting approach. Use time as a weapon. I didn't have to be in a hurry to divorce. My life would be shit for a while--this way, hopefully less shit.

To me, I didn't have to be a West Point grad to understand that #3 was the best option. The essence was to have Helen think I didn't know she was cheating. Make her think I loved her immensely and would never want a divorce. Hopefully Helen would want out of our marriage first, giving me leverage.

King David (1st Samuel 21 12-15), Augustus Caesar, Charlemagne, Henry V, Louis XIV, and Napoleon (getting off Elba Island--some had wanted him in an asylum) used my next tactic to their advantage--feigning madness. But I had to be careful. I didn't want to appear 'Bat shit, crazy.' After all, objective #2 was to get custody of my children.

It was easy to become distracted at work after what I had witnessed earlier this morning. Having stripped my third hot water tap, Al had enough. "Come on Harry, that's basic first year shit." (Some hot water taps have reverse threads.)

"Sorry Al, my head's not in it."

"First you forget your phone, and now this crap!"

"I guess it's being back here again. You know how I was supposed to graduate."

"Don't give me that shit about your West Point woes. You begged me to give you a job."

"Yeah, and don't get me wrong, I am thrilled you hired me--it's just being here and all. Any chance I can get off early?"

"Go. You're useless right now. Come back tomorrow with your head on straight."

I returned home early enough to pick up Athena and Wally from school. I had called Mom, telling her she needn't get them. Mom was seeing them after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and after a few weeks Mom was starting to whine in her 'special' way. She loved her grandchildren but seeing them about once a month was what she preferred.

When Helen came home from work, she shouted out, "What are you doing here!?"

"Wasn't feeling well and I came home to spell Mom."

"Have you been in the bedroom?"

Kind of a strange comment. Not 'What happened?' or 'Let me feel your forehead'. I knew exactly why. "No, I sent the kids to do their homework.... Did we have this much homework in grades 1 and 2?.... I'm making dinner. Spaghetti and meat balls.... Here's a glass of wine."

"Thank you." While I was trying to act normal, she was nervous. "I didn't get a chance to make the bed this morning. What happened at work?" A dollar short and a half day late.

"I think being back at West Point threw me for a loop. Good thing Al's such a great guy. He sent me home. I'm already feeling better. Being here for you and the kids is perking me up. Another glass of wine--you drank that one fast?"

"No, I'm good. I'm off to shower and change."

When we were all sitting around the kitchen table, my cooking had passed 'mustard'. The kids were telling us about their day. An unusually quiet Helen now wore a loose sweat shirt and mini-yoga pants. Her comfy attire. "So, was Steve able to get us a better quote?" I asked, after Athena went to play with her dolls (Tennis Barbie) and Wally his Lego.

"Oh, not yet, maybe Thursday."

Later when we went to bed, I excused myself, "I'm still not feeling 100%." Giving her quick peck on the cheek, I rolled over.

"No, I understand Honey. Try to get a good night's sleep. I love you." She obviously wasn't feeling amorous either. 'Did she notice I didn't respond?'

9:30 the next morning, I arrived back home. I dragged myself to my Lazy boy and sat with a 'humph'. "What are you doing home!?"

"I tried but I can't do it. It's just too difficult."

"What, you seemed fine when you left."

"I think being here in my home. My family's home. With my beautiful wife and children is what I need."

"But what about your job?"

"Al understands. He just told me to come back when I'm ready. He was there the first time to help pick up the pieces."

"What?"

"When I first left West point. My military home! I was a mess then. Now I need my family home!"

Chapter 4: Know thy Enemy and Gather Intel

It was fairly easy to get information on Steve. Google provided--38, 5'10" Owner of FTW Insurance (a fictional, dyslexic company). Divorced. Two ex-wives. No children. But I needed more. What made him tick? Could I get more information from his other employees or ex-wives? Could I possibly try to have a lunch with them to feel out information? However, that could risk getting back to Steve. Balance and timing are key to any undercover 're-con' mission.

Helen? Should I have notice something wrong? Something different about Helen? Could I have noticed anything since our life seemed wonderful? Sure, she had a few late days at work. But since she only worked the two days, I thought she was just getting extra work done. Apparently, some on her back.

Really, I did not see anything amiss. If anything, she was more loving. Maybe I could use my naivete and love to my advantage.

In most other stories about cheating wives--the husband goes to all lengths and expense: canceling credit cards; withdrawing cash from bank accounts; changing beneficiaries; hiring private investigators and expensive lawyers; buying all kinds of high-tech spyware gadgets; etc.

I did none of the above. I went as low tech as you can get. All those other means did not often get to the crux of the affair. They didn't reveal the crucial question. WHY!!

Enter Rose. Rose is our divorced (ex-had cheated on her) next-door neighbor. No children. She's the polar opposite of Helen. Five years older, 5'11, 160lb, brunette. Reserved but still friendly. Did I fail to mention she has big tits and a big ass? Somehow these all suit her quite nicely. Rose and I have a friendly ongoing flirting banter. She can tell I fixate on her breasts, while she seems to get caught up in my height. She has more than once told me, 'I'm a tall drink of water.' While we go lightly back and forth, I told her 'I would never cheat on Helen,' and she replies, 'I would never fool around with a happily married man, even if he is a tall, cool drink of water.'

Thursday (Pearl Harbor +2 days), "Rose, can I talk to you?"

"Come in Harry. You look terrible."

"I'm sorry to burden you with my problems but I need a friend."

"Of course, Harry. Talk to me," after she hugged me into her bountiful bosom.

"Well, first let me ask if you remember Helen's boss, Steve? He was at our last barbeque."

"Yeah, that creep was all over me with his eyes, and later groping me whenever he got the chance. Why?"

"Do you think he is good looking?"

"Well, physically he's got that older, put together look. But his manners are despicable. Why?"

"Is he better looking than me?"

"Not even close. Too short. If you weren't married, I'd take a run at you. You know that, right? What's this all about, Harry?"

"It's not a what, it's a WHY! Helen is having an affair with Steve!"

"What? Is she crazy? He's not in the same league as you. And what 10-12 years older?"

"But he has money"

"You do okay, too. Good job, nice house, great kids. I can't see what she would be doing with him."

"His money can be a factor. I don't have a job right now. Helen was never thrilled that I was a plumber in the first place.... I want to ask you a huge favor."

"Anything Harry. If you want a revenge sex, I would gladly do you."

"I might take you up on that, but I want to know the 'why' for right now. I would like you to befriend Helen and get me information."

"We are already friends, or, more like neighborly-friends."

"I would like you to get closer." I revealed my thoughts to Rose. I wanted Rose to be my spy and get Helen to open up to Rose about her reasonings.

"Anything for you Harry. What do you want me to do?"

"Well perhaps you could have her over and then tell her you saw her with Steve the other day. Tell her how close she was to being caught when you saw me pull in the driveway. I want you have her open up. Ask her if Steve is blackmailing her into this. Maybe something to do with work. If that's the case, perhaps, and I mean a big perhaps, we could work through this. Who knows maybe it's drugs. I want to know!"

"I'll do anything for you Harry. Even a few low-level illegal things."

"Thank you. By the way I videoed them going at it. I think you should see it. It might give you some ideas as what to ask."

"Show me!"

After watching the video Rose asked, "She's going after Steve for that? Did you see how small his cock is? And, that's not even the most surprising thing!"

"What?"

"She's faking orgasms!"

"You can tell?"

"Please Harry, I'm a bit older, but a woman knows these things."

"You're older?" I flirted.

She punches my arm. It was nice to feel somewhat human, having just realized how much I was holding back. Then suddenly I became morose again, 'Is she faking orgasms with me?' Doesn't matter. I hope to never have meaningful sex with Helen again.

The next few days, Helen appeared concerned and nervous. I could pick up on her anxiety because she didn't appear as confident. Her drinking increased. She was noticeably antsy.

Three days later Rose and I got together. "You were right Harry. It was so easy getting information out of her. It was like she wanted to tell someone."

"Go on!"

"Well, she was so shocked to see you that day. She thought you could tell she had that fresh fucked look. She said she didn't even have her bra on."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

"And, her boss in her car? She wanted to keep you out of the bedroom so bad because she hadn't cleaned it yet. The windows were open but the room still reeked of sex. Anyways, she isn't being blackmailed. It was actually her idea to start the fling. She is after his money and likes the power of controlling both of you. She calls it 'Pussy Power.' "