Faithful - An Alternate Ending

Thus it was, I heard the sniffle from the doorway and the, "I guess I deserved that."

Both Jacki and I turned our heads to see a weeping Molly standing in the doorway looking crestfallen. Her right cheek was red, and a black eye was beginning to form under the same eye. Jacki wriggled out from under me, got out of bed and stood protectively between Molly and I. It was comical with her tousled hair and my cum running down her leg. Molly looked her up and down and knowing her as well as I did--though, I guess that was now debatable--I knew she was registering all the things I had. The taut body, soft flawless skin, large, thrusting, gravity defying breasts. She sobbed, turned, and fled.

I, of all people knew the devastation she was feeling, so I shooed Jacki toward the shower and went after my wife, who was sitting in the lounge, sobbing. I asked her if John had dropped her off and she said, no, Larry had. Then she blurted out what had happened after I left the previous night. Strangely, the conversation began with, "That prick, John."

Apparently, Gail resisted looking at my video clips until the early hours of the morning, then, as she'd thought they might, the scenes of a love expressed, involving her husband, really upset her. It's one thing to imagine something, entirely something else to see it in full glorious color. The hour-long drive allowed her to work herself into a frenzy. Molly and John were asleep in each other's arms when the livid Gail stormed into the room.

On reflex, Molly had done the same thing Jacki had just done; jumped out of bed, and interposed herself between her lover and his wife. The now enraged Gail then swatted her out of the way, which explained the bruised face, before she launched herself at her husband, claws extended.

What happened next, seen from Molly's view from the floor, was bizarre. Janet, followed by her groggy husband, Larry, entered the room. Janet dragged Gail off John, then threw herself protectively over him. None of the onlookers needed to see John's expression of guilt for everyone present to see what was happening. Janet was protecting the man she loved. Obviously, Molly wasn't his only lover. They all stared at each other.

Finally, Larry turned to stride out the door, shaking his head in disgust. John extricated himself from Janet and more concerned at the loss of his friend and security guard than his wife, ran after him shouting the age-old refrain of cheaters, "I can explain."

From Molly's perspective, John disappeared into the corridor, then reappeared, flying backwards, after a meaty thud was heard. Molly just made it to the front door, holding her clothes, in time for Larry to give her a lift back to town. She understood, by his devastation, what she'd done to me, her own husband. And all for a lowlife, cheating little asshole. She sobbed that she was relieved to have found me in bed with Jacki. The even footing, she thought, stood us in good stead to start married life anew.

By that time, Jacki had reappeared, looking spectacular. I needed to get away to process all the new information. Jacki's reappearance gave me the perfect excuse--I had to fulfil my promise to take her home.

We stopped for a late lunch when I heard her stomach growling. It was over the meal that she confessed to being a little infatuated with me. She'd had little sexual experience before becoming an escort and the few clients she'd had, she charged $3,000 a night and $5,000 for a weekend, behaved selfishly and treated her like a cum dump. My oral pleasuring of her last night had actually been her first real orgasm. I felt like a stud.

She showed me her tiny flat, in the cheaper end of town, that she shared with another student who was away for the weekend. The farewell kiss lasted twenty-six hours. It started when I tried to leave on that Saturday afternoon and ended when I actually did leave at 10 p.m. Sunday. By which time, believe me, I had absolutely nothing left in the tank.

The phone calls from Molly started an hour after we left the house on Saturday. When I didn't answer, she started on Jacki's number. I finally answered at around midnight Saturday.

"Hello, Molly."

"Are you with her, Tom?"

"Yes, Molly."

"That's not fair, Tom. Please come home."

"What's not fair, Molly? You provided me with Jacki's services for the weekend, the weekend is only half over. You provided her with no conditions or caveats. I'm sorry your plans got derailed but that's no reason to cut short my time with Jacki."

The only answer to that was full-on crying.

I was unmoved by her tears. "Oh, and, Molly?"

"Yes, Tom," came Molly's sniffled response.

"Thank you."

I turned my phone off.

By Sunday night I realized that Jacki was a little inexperienced and naïve, but worse, had daddy issues. I left with the assurance that I would stick to my offer of a generous internship the following month and made sure she knew it wasn't linked to an ongoing sexual arrangement. She looked disappointed at that.

I really didn't know what was left of my marriage after that. Oh, I had no doubt what Molly thought. She apologized profusely, accepted all the blame was hers and wanted us both to move on.

No, the problem was me. For four years I'd had doubts but now I had a deep-seated mistrust of my wife and knew with certainty that if a particular set of circumstances arose, she wouldn't hesitate to hurt me. Someone who loves two men, by definition, is holding out on them both.

I refused to move from where I'd taken up residency, the spare room, back into the master, despite Molly's increasingly strident pleading. The door was locked every night.

I think in desperation, Molly walked into the lounge one night as I was watching TV. She was stark naked and grinning at me. She parted her legs, showing me her freshly shaven mound, then did a little turn.

I looked at her. She'd lost weight and was now thinner than ever. I took in the sinewy skin of her arms and legs, the brown leather of her belly, her boyish buttocks, and breasts that despite their smallness, were just beginning to lose their battle with gravity. Previously, I'd looked at her with eyes of love, a beautiful filter. Now, I just saw.

I tried my hardest to keep my face neutral, I really did, I'm not cruel, but something must have alerted Molly. She knew that for an instant I'd compared her to much younger perfection, and she knew she could never compete. Ever.

Grabbing the throw blanket off the back of the couch, she covered up, turned, and slunk out, knowing our marriage was destroyed and she was the one who destroyed it.

EPILOGUE

Every day the local newspapers updated the whole region on the local sex scandal story. Larry quickly and very loudly resigned, telling the local media exactly why. His children still weren't talking to their mother. Larry didn't name names but did tell everyone he'd belted his wife's lover. The media put that together with a senior manager's fresh bruises and came to their own conclusions. The company went into damage control, withdrew John's promotion, and suspended both he and Molly.

The story of Gail pimping out her husband came out around day four with the headline, Cuck Queen Revealed. Too embarrassed to show her once revered face around town, she went to stay with her sister on the other side of the country.

Molly and I divorced gently and amicably. The last time I saw her, she asked if I could donate sperm, the old-fashioned way, so she could have a baby before it was too late. I refused, countering that she was still young enough to find a new partner and have kids the traditional way. She replied, wryly, 'Only if I go beyond the reach of my reputation.'

Jacki did come and intern for my company and did very well. We never got together inappropriately after that night at her apartment and the last I heard of her social life she was dating a fellow employee, who, in her own words, was learning to use his tongue almost as good as me.

She must have blabbed around the break room, though, as, suddenly, younger, unattached female employees were dressing more provocatively

POSTSCRIPT

The denigrating of women with time related flaws above was a plot device only and in no way reflects my personal views.

Put it this way, as many times a week as I can I have sex with my 50-something wife. Does she have gravity defying breasts that are covered in taut, unblemished skin? Nope. But is she the most beautiful woman in the world? Shit yeah.

Now lighten the fuck up.

A woman sends a text to her husband.

"Honey, don't forget to buy bread when you finish kissing your girlfriend, Valerie".

The husband texts back, "Who is Valerie?"

The wife replies, "Nobody, I just wanted you to answer, to have confirmation that you saw my text."

The husband comes back with, "But I'm with Valerie now, I thought you saw me."

The wife is furious, "What, where are you?"

"Near the bakery on Main Street."

"Wait right there, I'll be there in five minutes."

Five minutes later. "I'm at the bakery on Main Street, where the fuck are you?"

"I'm at work. Now you're at the bakery, buy the bread.xxx.