Heel and Toe

"Considering you weren't expecting to talk to me tonight, because you already had another date with someone else, I bet it IS a revelation! Actually ... honey, you were making better time than your mom, for not wanting one, you already had a guy on the side. Care to explain that?"

Devon started to fracture, she was desperate to explain, "I was bailing! I was. It went way too far. I was trying to end it without messing up what Mom had going on. You're right, my first job was protecting us, not my mom. I'd already made the mistake; it was on me to fix it. It was three dates, er, damn it! It was three meetings ago. Oh God Reg, please don't let my little verbal mistakes screw up my explanation of my huge ones! I'm not in good shape here. By damn, I'd already kissed him.

"It was three meetings ago where I made the big mistake. All the other little mistakes led to it. I had too much to drink. I needed the liquid courage to keep enticing the man back away from Mom and her intended beau. The damn guy kept feeling me up. It wasn't anything huge. I only wanted to dance, though it was clear dancing was only the aerobic prelude to sex for him.

"I was worried about Mom, about her wanting that guy I wasn't sold on, and it all seemed a little soon. I was worried about how to keep my man-octopus in check without sending him away. At home you and I weren't connecting, and I was sure it was because I was so upset about what was going on and my keeping it from you. I could tell it was having an impact on us. I wasn't forthcoming with you and I hated that. That this guy was pawing me, and I felt like I had to smile and giggle about it, made me feel like an absolute cheat! I started drinking to keep the smile on my face, it also kept the guilt manageable because the alcohol dulled everything.

"I haven't been that active for a while, dancing for an hour straight is some real work! And I kept drinking. I drank enough where the smiles became actual flirting, then it was fun to keep him on the edge. It became a game to see how much of my feminine wiles I needed to employ to keep him hooked before he walked away, and how to balance the false signals I was sending.

"I told myself I was a cat playing with its prey. Instead I was getting drunk and enjoying the flirting. As the alcohol increased more and more seemed fair game in the game. Letting his hand rest here or there, a grope, a squeeze. I enjoyed being more provocative. The goal was to keep him on the hook and the parameters started getting melted down. Using an open shirt to keep him at arms-length led to letting him and everyone else see way too much. Keeping him from rubbing his body against mine changed to slow dances were okay. No groping ever became more gropes and caresses, until the only rule left was no sex. And that meant making out. And then... being masturbated.

"I thought, after the fact, that it never should have happened. I know that I wasn't trying to sneak something for myself. I was playing, but he was a more accomplished player, and I got played. I thought if I could hold him in a circling pattern with a few kisses now and then, that Mom should have more than enough time. I think you figured it out, Reg: what I was trying to do to my guy, his guy was doing to Mom. I wasn't buying her more time to convince him, he was buying my ... date ... time to finish seducing me. I-I think it comes down to Mom and I were never any good at this seduction meat-market thing. And both of us are woefully out of practice from what we used to know. I know it's the same number of years we've been married, but I swear this was not a seven-year itch!"

"Reggie, you used the word "tantalized" earlier. That game of being so attractive to a man that I could hold him in a circling pattern for hope of a kiss, tantalized me. Damn it, I played myself. I never played the vixen before. I realized I was setting the hook too frequently and had drifted." She looked down, ready to break but determined to tell me the truth, "Finally a... date a month ago, when we were making out, it wasn't just a kiss or a few kisses. I escaped with my virtue soiled but intact. He had his hands all over me. I was scared and ashamed. And I stopped going.

"But Mom still needed me and eventually I had to go back. I had to for her and to withstand him. Last night I..." Devon stopped, when she began again, I was certain she had changed her story, but she had only changed how to tell it. "Then last night I did it again. Worse. Except I conquered it. It's a mixed bag. He's no threat, but I'm weaker than I ever thought." Devon was a puddle of remorse and shame.

I offered, "Maybe you had someone you trusted betraying you? Your mom probably saw you go outside the first time and thought her time had come. Until then you were making her desperate by holding back. Hell, she would have gotten you drunk the next time to weaken your resolve..."

I stopped seeing the anger rise in my wife as she put pieces together. "No! She did it THIS last time! MOM!" Devon turned to me pain more evident in her eyes than her tears, "Oh God Reggie, I tried so hard! I didn't want to be alone with him like you think. I didn't want to drink that much, but there was always one magically in front of me, and I was a nervous wreck. I was happy to see that nerve-soothing drink appear, even though I knew I was getting cloudy. I had to hold out. I was coming unglued. I was grasping at straws. I even took off my panties and gave them to him, hoping that would hold him in place. That's a big promise, he had no way of knowing I wasn't going to fulfill it. Yet he was still getting antsy; he wanted to be alone with me. He wanted to have me; I just couldn't do that. I'd failed so badly the last time we were alone; I'd made out with him!"

Devon's face shone pore agony. There was more to the story although she was utterly incapable of relaying it now, she would fall apart and relay nothing.

"I was desperate. I-I upped the ante. I, oh God, I unbuttoned my shirt. I even pulled it mostly open so the guys could... look at me. But damn it, that was taking attention away from Mom. That was the opposite of what I wanted. So, to get me and my guy away from Mom and hers, I danced. And he felt me, and I was drunk. I didn't realize that the dancing wasn't waking me up, it was exhausting me instead. I got real fuzzy."

Devon became much quieter now, "Somewhere in there I realized my shirt would flop way open and my breasts were being looked at by a lot of guys on the dance floor. I saw other women look too. Some rearranged themselves so they could be seen too, I guess to compete. But guys were looking at me. They were hungry for me. And God help me, I danced to show off for them. Your devoted little wifey was drunk on alcohol and sexual excitement. I was high on all these men looking at me. Other women's dates couldn't take their eyes off of ME... and I shook my tits for them!"

Devon looked away silently cursing herself. It took a while before she spoke again. Her mother waited horror stricken, tears welling in her eyes.

"Oh God, I couldn't tell you if the song ended or if he pulled me outside first. He was telling me how beautiful and hot I was. He gave me a smoldering kiss, and he felt the hell out of my tits. I guess that's all they are now: no longer nurturing breasts just tits. He was pushing me back through the parking lot. I was hot-to-trot and good-to-go. We found our way to his car with me going backwards the whole way. His hand was in my shirt. My back was to his car as he reached around and opened the door to the back seat. He pushed me so I sort of sat right into his car sidewards to the back seat. You know, so if I lay down right where I was, I would be laying down right along his back seat. Instead I scooched back crawling further into the car. I grabbed his shirt pulling him in after me. His hand went to my crotch. I looked down and I was completely exposed, the combination of short skirt and no panties because I'd removed them earlier. He worked his fingers in me and, and, I finally I woke up.

"Realizing he was losing his shot he tried laying down on top of me. He was kissing me, and I grabbed his waistband and held it up so he couldn't drop his pants. It was the strangest thing. I was fighting him to keep from getting fucked and I was kissing him at the same time. I was awake enough now and told him no several times in ways he could not ignore. Strangely, I don't think he was pissed at me for being a tease, so much as he felt he read the signs wrong. He seemed to know that another dance or two, or one more drink, and he would have had me.

"Reggie," my wife said in a weak almost little girl voice, "another drink and he WOULD have had me. Not because I wanted him, because I was that far gone. I-I stumbled back into the club, still not pulling my shirt closed, and told Mom we were leaving. She knew better than to cross me then. She was shocked at my condition. You have to ask her if she thought I actually... got fucked. It's an ugly word for an ugly act. But Reggie, the pictures you have should show I didn't."

This was a sore point for me that had caused me considerable agony leading up to my confrontation. "The pictures show the two of you wrestling around, him atop you and between your legs."

"Oh my God!" Devon was panicked.

"But the position doesn't look quite right for intercourse, then again, it looks a lot more like that than it doesn't."

"Oh God in heaven, help me. Help me!" Devon began to quake.

"Choose." I said flatly making them both look at me.

"What?" Devon asked, really not knowing what she was supposed to choose.

"Her or me. Your mother made us adversaries. You've been helping her make you cheap and killing me. So, choose."

Marta charged in, fear ringing in her words, "Reggie please. Think Reggie, do you really think my daughter won't resent that choice, and it won't blow up in your face?"

I picked up the pictures that were sitting on the table and dealt one out at them with each sentence, "I resent it right now, and it has already blow up in my face! Devon's the one that went out cruising for guys with her mother. Devon's the one that got into a man's car after giving him her underwear. She's the one letting him feel up her ass, she's the one pulling him into the car so she can give him that ass. You set her up, but she made the decision to cheat on me and ran with it. If she's mad at me for crossing the line in the sand the two of you drew, tough. I'll know for sure then she doesn't love me instead of having to guess now.

"I have no patience for any attitude sent my way after you two conspired to break my heart and my marriage; I'm all out of good will. Expect no concessions from me. I've spent hours looking at the pictures before you, and other evidence too. I admit crying, crying while holding the picture of my wife I keep on my desk trying to balance ... these, and unsuccessfully trying to figure out which is the real Devon.

"I'm the only honest and true person in this room anymore. I can't imagine after reading her phone transcripts, which seem excited to see that gasbag the nights you had your dates, that she didn't know exactly what she was doing and did it coldly and in calculated fashion. I got the cold and no intimacy, while her excitement was given to him, probably as well as the sex I didn't get! Understand this: if any of these pics showed THAT for certain we, wouldn't be talking. But that's what I believe, what's left of my heart wouldn't let me leave without this talk first."

I threw the rest of the pictures down on the table. Pictures of Marta and my wife smiling and laughing while cavorting with guy after guy. Yes, two guys more than others, but that didn't help their case with me. And far too many of them of my wife either hanging on or dancing with the gasbag she may have had sex with. Far too many of them with my wife's private parts exposed, and far too many of those with that same guy's hands on them.

Both women gazed at the pictures like I'd thrown a basket of cobras on the table. Their eyes bulged while their mouths were open. Marta watched her daughter shiver because she knew I'd spent hours staring at the damn things. She knew too well those pictures held more venom for me than mere cobras.

"Damn you both. I'm fighting for a marriage and woman who may not love me and who may not want to be in this marriage with me. I'm doing my best here, while having absolutely no idea where I stand. Even if Devon still wants me, these pictures call me the world's largest fool for even making this attempt!"

Devon broke down crying. I mean explosively. "I love you Reg. I can't imagine life without you. This has become a nightmare for me. I get it, I understand, it's already gone too far not to choose. As far as you're concerned, I've already chosen, and against you. It's going to tear me in half, but I've already torn you in half, haven't I? But in spite of your pain, you're still tossing me a lifeline. I choose you!"

I sat down hard. I didn't mean to, my legs just sort of went out. I'd projected the image of a disappointed angry man, yet one in control of himself and his surroundings. This certainly belied that. I'd looked so positive so strong ... only now did Marta and Devon realize that until she chose, I didn't know which way my wife would go! I'd just barely held myself together. With my guard down they both saw the agony and now relief in my face. While the relief was palpable, it wasn't easing the agony, just some of the doubt. Of course, the agony was at possibly losing her and what she had done. Her decision choosing me did not rewrite history, as she'd already done the deeds, and I still felt the agony they caused. Devon's decision gave me the hope she wouldn't add to the list of things we had to try to navigate.

I breathed deeply for a while. I seemed like days since I had lungs full of air. I finally noticed the ladies open-mouthed stares. I looked at my wife, "You obviously don't know what you mean to me." I motioned for my wife to sit on my lap. Devon flew there. "I didn't know which way you would go. Was I losing you or had I lost you? To me there was never not a threat, to me it was never not a worry that would you would choose against me a final time. I told the truth, if you'd hesitated, I would've had my answer and one of us would be out the door already. However, we aren't saved or safe yet. This is going to be a major haul. You will hate some of it. Try to balance what you feel at those rough times with what happened to put us in this mess: the time spent in his car and arms. The time his fingers were inside of you."

She felt pukish and dizzy, "O-Okay honey. I get it."

"I need pregnancy tests."

Confused she answered, "I'm on the pill." Then it dawned on her what her loving husband was asking for. She was in an instant state of panic. "Wait. No! No! I was never ... with ... him. I swear. He-He rubbed me ... down there, but I stopped him before I ..." Her head bowed. "Honey, what kind of person am I? There must be a name for it. I fell for the state of it, it wasn't romance, it was like a time machine going back to high school and playing spin the bottle. It was fun remembering all those moves. I'd catch an alcohol buzz and start to play back. When it went too far, I had the sense to walk away, but only after the infraction had started. The physical infraction that is, all of it was an infraction as I am spoken for. I wouldn't have gone back, but it was my mother begging me to go. What kind of person knows they are a moth and the location of the flame and still keeps getting their wings singed? I mean I had the power to stop it once it started, that's what I don't get. If I'm weak enough to get into it how was I strong enough to get out? And only to become weak enough to go back? I had to know the sort of person I was at the core, Reg."

"You have your standards. You eventually have to fish or cut bait. Thank God, you cut bait."

"But I should never have gone out on the fishing pier in the first place."

"You never did on your own. You love your Mom, she was hurting. Unknown to you she was working against you. She knows you very well, she knows what will tempt you the most, or at least how you can be tempted. I'm sure through her beau, if not directly to yours, she fed your paramour with helpful hints like how to approach you, what to say, how to touch you to put you at ease, and which alcohols and such to bring down your shields. So, the gates were opened to the enemy. Yet it took a secondary or tertiary boundary threat to kick in your defenses. Usually that would be commendable.

"The problem is the distance you fell. You've already done enough to merit a divorce to a man like me. Honey, I'm well off. I have authority and some money. I don't look awful. I get hit on frequently. Sometimes by women prettier than you. If I still wanted to run the field I would be. I found you. I thought I found something better than all the other women in the world and traded them for you. I'm trying to figure out where your baseline is; it's not the same as mine. I want to know if you were just perfectly set up, or if you really still yearn to play the field. That's why we aren't out of the woods. And that there are now several conditions known to all of us, where you will betray me. Both of us have to deal with that."

Marta reentered the conversation, "Wait both of you. I know my daughter very well. I told you I set her up, she never had a chance. I swear I never intended to hurt your marriage. I thought she might get felt up on the dance floor. When I was young you expected that, which is why men still don't want their women going dancing without them. However, Devon was never going to sleep with him or anyone else. Yes, I figured out how to defeat her early defenses, but dammit, they were only the early defenses.

"If I didn't just see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it, in fact I still can't. Reggie, I can't believe you don't know Devon would choose you. There was never a doubt in my mind and I'm sure less in Devon's. I've done something wrong, very wrong, something that turned evil. Reggie, if you never listen to another thing I say, please hear this. Those photos your investigator showed you: never look at those again. They have wounded you terribly. It's pure evil for a husband to see pictures of his wife like that. I can only imagine what photos of me like that would have done to James. I apologize to you too daughter: this is my fault. Please Reggie, remember there may be five or more photos of a single, grope or kiss, that doesn't mean there were that many separate infractions. Please Reggie, you're so smart, please let yourself understand that. Save all of your mistrust, derision, and scorn for me alone."

Her face was the archetype for sincerity. The problem was I feared Marta was delusional.

"Reggie, Devon didn't want to be there. She was going out with her mother, for Pete's sake, she wasn't trolling for men. That scenario didn't come into her head. I didn't realize the guy was getting that far. By the time she realized she was in a boy/girl scenario she was already well in the middle of it, having to fight her way out.

"Please think of it this way: she thought she was walking on a nice little path; she didn't realize it was a dock on a lake until she stepped off and found she was in the water. She struggled to get out immediately and did. Please don't be mad at her for falling in the water. She didn't see it and jump in; I hid it from her. She took a step expecting planks under her feet only to find herself falling and then immersed." Marta's eyes pled with me. She was doing everything but waving her clasped hands in supplication.

My wife looked at me. From her expression she honestly thought it was a pretty good analogy, though she knew she couldn't say so. I saw and understood. She did do something to help herself.