Did She Cheat?byStrangeLife©
Mornings in the Phelps household was pure madness but Carl loved every second of it.
Getting everybody up, getting everybody ready, getting everybody fed and seeing everybody off to their various destinations of the day was family togetherness at maximum intensity.
"Mooom! Gage wiped his face with my new shirt."
"Daaad! Gage has been in the bathroom like forever. I need to brush my teeth."
"Mooom! Chris just used half the syrup on one pancake."
"Daaad! Chris hit me with her bag."
Few things can keep parents on their toes like a couple of rowdy teenagers, and Carl's kids were no different in this respect. Chris was hating on her little brother and Gage found his big sister to be an annoying bitch. Neither wasted any opportunity to push each other and getting in each other's face, and there was no issue too small or too unimportant to pick a fight over.
Yes, Carl loved his hyperactive kids but without a devoted wife by his side even he would have been struggling to keep it all under control. And he certainly had that in Sue. This 'high school sweetheart turned wife' somehow managed to cook breakfast and assist both kids in their respective preparations without looking the least bit stressed. Her collected demeanor under pressure was just one of many qualities that Carl appreciated in his loving wife.
Sure, she might not be what you'd call a looker compared to some of the silicone pumped trophy wives of the upscale neighbourhood. With her grey streaked brown shoulder-length hair, cleavage-free slim build and a sense of fashion dictated by convenience rather than looks Sue certainly wasn't Playboy material. She wasn't much of a make-up girl either and preferred sneakers to pumps.
But she was a great wife in every way that mattered to Carl and he never regretted marrying her. Sue may not have been a heartbreaking beauty but she was always there for him and the kids, and she never seemed to run out of smiles and a hugs when somebody was in need of them.
And despite what some might think, she was actually good in bed. Never exceptionally advanced, but always willing to jump his bones at any opportunity. In fact, she would often come home from work all riled up and practically ravish him on the spot. Apparently working as a leasing clerk was a major turn on for her. Yeah a bit weird, but Carl wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever got her in the mood was fine with him.
Unfortunately recent events had forced Carl to realize that his little nuclear family might be in serious jeopardy. He could even envision it falling apart completely in the near future if his worst fears were confirmed, and the thought saddened him to no end. Maybe that was the reason why he felt compelled to soak up as much as possible of the wonderful chaos that was family life.
"Funny how we always seem to appreciate things the most when we stand to loose them," he thought sadly.
Suddenly he was jerked out of his moment of melancholy when Sue kissed him on the cheek.
"A penny for your thoughts sweetie," she whispered in his ear and gave his lobe a bite.
He turned and smiled at his loving wife of 22 years.
"Save your pennies Sue. I'll give you this thought for free. I was considering taking Dubya for a walk. His eyes are beginning to look a bit yellow."
"I'll save you a pancake if you hurry," she replied with a smile. "And please don't let him go in Sanderson's driveway. Mrs. Sanderson has threatened to file a complaint with the county, and she will do it too. She's an old shrew with way too much time on her hands."
Dubya wagged his tail happily and pulled on the leash. To him the entire world was filled with adventure, food and exciting smells.
"Sometimes I envy you Dub," Carl told him. "All you do is eat, sleep and shit. You don't care if your dates are bitches, cause they're supposed to be."
"Woof," Dubya replied happily and gave him a wet doggy grin the way only a Bassett Hound can.
Carl liked dogs a lot. They were always honest and would love you unconditionally regardless of the circumstances. They had no concept of betrayal or cheating. Not like women. I mean come on! After twenty-two fucking years? How the hell could you do it Sue? What did I do wrong? Wasn't I enough for you?
"And you know what the worst part is Dub?"
The dog looked expectantly at him with its tongue hanging out.
"I might never have found out if Dave hadn't been waiting for a lunch date outside the Ranchero Motel just as she pulled in with her lover. And even then he would never have recognized Sue if her blonde wig hadn't gotten caught in the car door and been pulled off. Shit, I can't picture her in a cocktail dress with long blonde hair no matter how hard I try. I haven't seen her in a dress of any kind since the wedding."
"Arf," Dubya agreed.
"My thought exactly. She's obviously going all out in attempting to hide her cheating. A goddamned blonde wig? I mean seriously? Does she think she's Modesty Blaise or something?"
Dubya tilted his head and slobbered on Carl's shoe.
"Oh no, this was clearly no casual spur-of-the-moment thing Dub. I mean, she has a disguise and a special wardrobe and everything. She could have been doing this shit for ages for all I know. I never suspected a thing."
"That's the problem old friend," Carl said while scratching Dubya's ear. "I love her to death and she has been a perfect wife through all the years. She has given me two great kids, a wonderful home and I have never lacked for love, companionship or sex. She's my best friend. I so don't wanna loose her and I really don't want my family broken up. I'm hoping with all my heart that this is all a big misunderstanding."
Dubya put his nose against Carl's hand and sneezed.
"No way Dub! I could never live like a cuckold. I've read that some men find it exciting when their wives fuck around, but I'm definitely NOT one of them! The very idea that some asshat could be walking around feeling superior because he has fucked Sue behind my back is infuriating. If I get any names, there will be some serious ass-kicking happening!"
Another dog spotted them and barked a challenge. Dubya just snorted and looked away.
"So all I can do is hope for good news today. I've had the P.I. on her for two weeks and I'm getting his report in a little while. I fear the worst. Wish me luck old buddy."
Carl and Dubya got back just as Gage left for school. The school was in close distance with no major roads to cross so he was allowed to ride his bike, which he usually preferred over sitting on the bus.
"Bye dad," he yelled in passing and Carl barely had time to reply before he was gone.
Sue and Chris were still in the process of having breakfast so Carl pushed his dark mood aside and joined them. While enjoying a healthy serving of pancakes and non-specific smalltalk he tried picturing Sue as a blonde seductress. Well, she was quite slim and toned and could probably pull off the dress. But... no! No fucking way! He simply couldn't see it.
The pancakes were great though.
The high school was on his way to work so Chris got herself a ride with dad. During the drive Carl was properly updated on the latest crushes, trends and scandals and he made a serious effort to say "mmm..." and "no!" at the right places. To be honest it was about as interesting as listening to paint dry but he wanted Chris to view him as a confidant she could tell anything to. That way he hoped that she would come to him if she ever got in more serious trouble.
Besides Chris had always been daddy's girl and he loved spending time with her.
By the time she jumped out of the car and gave him a big hug and a "I love you daddy" he knew who everybody in her class was dating and who they kissed at the last school-party.
Carl continued on his way to work, but two blocks before reaching his office at Clonus Consult Limited he pulled over by a generic office building. Inside he was greeted by Mr. Archibald Jelnek, private investigator; speciality: spousal infidelity and divorce.
Carl sat down in the client chair while the detective produced a well padded brown folder.
"One of the less enjoyable roles of my job is as bearer of bad news," Mr. Jelnek started. "And unfortunately the facts of this case calls for me to assume that role. Your suspicions turned out to be well funded Mr. Phelps."
Carl took a deep breath. "How bad is it?"
"As bad as it gets, I'm afraid. The final conclusion in my report is, that your wife is working as an escort."
"For what it's worth," Mr., Jelnek added sympathetically, "she is discrete, careful and appear to be highly selective with her customers. She changes her looks using various implements such as wigs, coloured contacts and creative make-up techniques. It's unlikely she would be recognised as you wife at a casual encounter."
He took out a picture of a tall slender woman in a simple but expensive looking black dress. She had long blonde hair and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of large sunglasses, but it was unmistakably Sue. Carl recognized several small details, like the mole on her left arm and the L-shaped dimple she always got next to her mouth when she smiled. After twenty plus years of marriage you learn a thing or two about your partner. She couldn't fool him.
"Yeah it's her," he said sadly.
The P. I. nodded.
"That's what I figured. As said, she is discrete to the point of paranoia so alas I was not able to obtain documentation of her having sexual intercourse with any of her customers. "
"Tell me about it," Carl remarked dryly. "Twenty two fucking years of marriage and I never had a clue. She's discrete all right. Is there more?"
Mr. Jelnek cleared his throat.
"The rest is more circumstantial. The only thing I can definitely prove is, that when your wife leaves home for work she drives to an apartment in this building..."
He pointed to a photo of Sue entering an apartment building; obviously situated in an upscale neighborhood.
"I suspect that she owns an apartment in this building, but it's not in her own name. Building security is top notch and I haven't been able to follow her inside for further investigation."
Carl was speechless. He had no idea about this.
"As far as can ascertain she only uses this place as a base of operations and not for entertaining customers. Here she is leaving, now wearing her long blonde wig."
He showed a photo of Sue as a blonde wearing a fashionable hat. She was dressed in a classy pants suit with high-heeled boots and looked positively stunning. Carl didn't know that Sue could look this hot. Despite his anger he felt his cock hardening.
"I have discovered another fact that could prove relevant Mr. Phelps. You informed us that your wife is employed with Beavis Hanson Leasing Co. However this is not the case. Human resources have no record of her ever having held a position with them."
"But she's getting a goddamned salary!" Carl exclaimed.
"Possibly, but I can assure you it's not from Beavis Hansson. My assumption is, that she transfers a suitable amount from her... carnal activities... to your budget account every month. There is most likely a secret bank account involved, since she appear to make a lot more than reflected by her official monthly compensation."
All this was completely surreal to Carl.
"You're saying that Sue is paying our house bill with prostitution money?"
"That's the most credible hypothesis," Mr. Jelnek replied.
Carl felt sick.
"As I said, there is no evidence as to the actual act of infidelity. She never had a rendezvous at the same place twice and I was unable to get any kind of camera equipment in place. I did however manage to pick up a series of phone conversations with a directional microphone."
Mr. Jelnek clicked around on his computer. Sue's voice sounded from the speaker.
"Yes sexy... I will be warm and ready... no, cash only... what! No way... oh yes, we can certainly do that... no need lover... yeah right? Just yourself and your stamina... oh looking forward to it... ciao baby."
"Just yourself and your stamina," Carl repeated. "What kinda fucking drivel is that?"
The investigator continued.
"The phone is unlisted and cannot be tied to your wife in any way, but I assume there is no dispute as to the identity of the caller?"
"None whatsoever. Oh that fucking bitch!"
"I also have have footage of her in the company of four different males in various locations."
He spread out a group of photos.
"There hasn't been time to investigate the men in detail, but there is a high likelihood that they are customers rather than boyfriends. It's unlikely that she has a close connection to any of them."
Carl nodded in agreement.
"This person I do recognize though," the investigator said and pointed at a fifth picture. "It's Pablo Montoya of the Caliente family. A well-known figure in the Mexican drug scene. He has been wanted by the FDA for years and is probably in the US illegally. A very dangerous man."
This was almost too much for Carl to absorb.
"Prostitution. Secret apartments. Unlisted phones. Disguises. Gangsters. Secret bank accounts. Illicit meetings at hotels. What the fuck? Whom the hell have I been married to for the last twenty years?"
"Your wife's background checks out fine Mr. Phelps. She is indeed Sue Phelps nee Miller and has been married to you for the past twenty-two years. There is no criminal record listed in her name and her credit is perfect. She has given birth to Christine Phelps, sixteen, and Gage Phelps, thirteen, and you are without a doubt the biological father of both children."
He produced an accredited report from DNA Diagnostic Central.
"Thank god for that at least," Carl sighed. "That was another fear I had."
"While we are talking diagnostics, she has been treated for several sexually transmitted diseases over the past seven years..."
"And so have you."
"Yes, it seems that you have received external treatment for gonorrhea at least twice as far as I can tell."
"I... shit... this is too fucking much! I've never been diagnosed with anything. How?"
"She must have administered the antibiotics to you at home. If you were free of symptoms, pills would suffice. They could have been in your food or drinks."
Carl felt his stomach heave. He couldn't believe it.
"Sue actually brought home a sexually transmitted disease! That means that she's not using condoms! What kind of whore fucks around without condoms these days? What if it had been AIDS? Holy shit!"
"As I mentioned your wife does appear to be highly selective. It is not inconceivable that she could be screening her clients before permitting them to have unprotected sex with her. Some upper class call girls do."
"Apparently not very successfully," Carl sighed and massaged his temples.
"Ok Mr. Phelps. Now you have been presented with all the facts. How do you wish to proceed?"
After considering for a moment Carl made a decision.
"I need to confront her in the act, or at least while she's with one of her Johns. The disguise and all the other stuff wont be easy for her to explain, but in reality I have no concrete proof of cheating. She could deny everything and just claim to have been playing dress-up."
"I think I can help you there," said the investigator. "From recent phone conversations I am fairly sure that she is booked at the Holiday Inn by the harbor tonight at seven with a customer."
"Interesting," Carl mused. "She's supposed to work late tonight. Beavis Hansson is running an internal audit. At least she wasn't lying about the working late part."
"Do you want me present?"
"No thanks. I'll handle the confrontation myself. I need your help to locate what room she's in though, and I would like you to stand-by with a firearm in case the John should make trouble. I don't like the idea that she has been associating with criminals. So if you could be within reach just in case..."
"No problem Mr. Phelps. I will be within five minutes distance. You have my number. I will advice you to prepare a text message so you only have to press 'send' in the event you need assistance."
"Excellent. Well, thanks for your services Mr. Jelnik. I'm very satisfied with your work. Please make out the final invoice after tonight and I will come by next week to settle the balance."
The two men shook hands and Carl left.
While he was driving Carl's mind was buzzing with a million thoughts.
"Sue a call girl? Sue involved with drug lords? Sue bringing home STD's? Sue living a double life in a secret apartment?"
It was a fucking nightmare, yes it was. His entire life... his fucking world was shaking in its foundation and getting ready to come crashing down. He felt numb inside. Should he contact a lawyer? Did he even want a divorce? He hadn't thought about that yet. Could he live with Sue knowing that she was hooker? And even if she agreed to stop prostituting herself, could he handle and forgive her past betrayal? And what about the kids? How do you even begin to deal with this much shit? Oh why Sue? WHY goddammit?
Carl stopped at The Bouncing Beaver for a drink and to kill some time before the fateful confrontation. It was tempting to seek solace in a bottle but he limited himself to one drink to cool the nerves and a club sandwich for energy, despite a complete lack of appetite.
He had originally planned to stay in the pub for a few hours, but too much reminded him of Sue. They had come here regularly on their kid-free evenings and met with friends. Those were good times. However Carl was now left to wonder whether Sue was whoring behind his back already back then.
Hell, even the name of the pub was appropriate for the situation. 'The Bouncing Beaver.' Maybe Sue had been out bouncing her beaver when he wasn't looking.
The irony made him laugh and he noticed the barkeeper eyeing him suspiciously. The poor guy probably wasn't used to people loosing their minds after just one drink. Maybe he'd better get out of here anyway. Seeking comfort in that bottle was much too tempting, but definitely not an option for a dad with two kids at home.
He left The Bouncing Beaver and drove down to the harbor where he found himself a good observation spot outside The Holiday Inn.
It was exactly seven a clock when he spotted her getting out of a Taxi in the company of a large slightly pudgy bearded man. This was the first time ever Carl saw his loving wife as blonde in real life.
She looked fantastic, poise like a movie star and movements like a dancer, but it was definitely Sue. Not Sue-the-mom but Sue-the-call-girl. Why the hell did she never dress up like that for him? Why was she so bland and unremarkable at home, when she could look this good? Why did she go all out for her Johns but never for her loving husband?
Carl felt jealous and betrayed all over again and his anger fueled his resolve. The couple entered the hotel lobby just as Carl crossed the street in a run. He waited outside for Mr. Jelnik's message. It arrived after about five minutes.
"Room 517. Good luck. Standing by. J"
"Thanks. I fear I'm gonna need all the luck I can get," Carl mumbled to himself and pushed through the revolving door entering the lobby.
"Who is it?" a muffled female voice sounded from he other side of the door.
"Room service. Your complimentary bottle of Champaign," Carl replied with a finger in his mouth.
"Just a second."
A moment later the door was opened by a blonde Sue wearing a hotel bathrobe. Her face went from a smile to pure terror when she recognised the man at the door.
"Hi Sue," Carl said with a forced smile. "Missed me? Sorry, I lied about the Champaign."
She caught herself and whispered in a frantic voice, eyes large with fear.