Honey, How Do I Look?

There is no sex under 18 in this or any other of my stories on this website. It is also fiction. It is short, not too much character development. Also, nothing really new here, just a quick musing while I was sitting mindlessly watching the boob tube. Sorry, if you are looking for thought provoking prose.

"How do I look?" This from my wife of ten years. Christie had successfully lost all the weight from our first born, Samuel, and was now preparing for a night out without a baby.

My name is Trevor Barnes. Unfortunately, Christie had not dressed for me. I was staying home to babysit. She looked expectantly for an answer.

I motioned her to spin for me. The dress clung to her rejuvenated trim waist and hips and showed her healthy post partum breasts. She had optioned to breast feed so her breasts would gain a size during parts of the day when she wasn't feeding baby Sam. She would state she loved when she was nursing our first born. It made her content. How would I know, I thought? She wouldn't let me touch them since before giving birth.

Sam was now three months old and growing like the proverbial weed. Anyhow, I digress. I examined her dress some more. It draped in the right places to intrigue as well as suggest. My cock responded but anything seemed to stimulate it as I had not had any sexual relief, except by hand, since Christie was in her seventh month. Nope, the doctor didn't order the long drought, Christie had determined, all on her own, that sex might harm Samuel and then later that we needed to make sure that she was fully healed beyond a shadow of a doubt after needing three stitches after her episiotomy.

She was now looking at me expectantly again. Her makeup was perfect as was her hair. Her face was her normal beautiful clear complexion and her blue eyes were bright with the anticipation of the evening out. Her fingernails had been carefully done and sported fancy paint but there was something missing.

I took a deep breath. "I guess how you look depends on whether you dressed to entice me or someone else. If you are staying in then I love how much of your breasts are on display and how short the skirt is. I see no panty line so I assume you are either wearing a thong, which you profess to despise or you are commando, which you also profess to despise."

She started to sputter but I held my hand up. She knew that I hate to be interrupted. "Now, wait a moment, as I am not finished responding. Since you are 'going out with the girls' (I used air quotes there) I find the idea of your attire to be strange. If you are meeting with your old 'friend' (again with air quotes), Bill Bailey, then I would think you look like a slut out to get a good fucking. Your choice in how you wish to interpret my evaluation of how you are dressed is up to you."

True to her gender the explosion was swift and loud. "HOW DARE YOU INSINUATE THAT I AM MEETING BILL BAILEY! I HAVEN'T SEEN HIM IN MONTHS. I AM GOING OUT WITH MY FRIENDS AND I AM NOT LOOKING FOR A GOOD FUCKING.!"

She went on for a full minute before ending with, "Now, what do you have to say to that? I demand an apology." Her face was mottled. I guess her foundation wasn't evenly spread over her face as parts still looked kind of a tan color while the rest was beet red from her ire. Her arms were crossed over her nice breasts which heaved from her anger. She tapped one of her brand new heels on the floor as she waited.

I moved past her to the bedside table and retrieved the package from the drawer. I then moved back to my original position in front of the closed bedroom door, effectively blocking her from a sudden departure.

"First, you are not wearing your engagement or wedding ring. Did you happen to forget them in anticipation of a night of fun and frivolity away from the constraints of motherhood and matrimony?" She looked guiltily at her left hand. I suppose she thought I wouldn't notice. It didn't change the redness from her face. Could it be guilt and embarrassment now? I mentally shrugged my shoulders.

I opened the package and handed her some pictures that I had printed out earlier today. The showed her in congress with said shithead, Bill Bailey. They ranged from lunch to holding hands, progressing to kisses and the last ones, her having unprotected sex with fuckhead. The pictures were date stamped and taken in the last month. "I guess you must have felt that his pencil dick would not set back your healing from the pregnancy and birth. I must be massively endowed if my cock would tear you asunder again."

Bill, in the pictures, seemed to be a bit larger than me but, what do I know? Actually, sarcasm is one of my strong suits and that usually pisses her off when I turn my sarcastic wit on her. She tried to deflect. "Those pictures are fake. It wasn't what it looked like. It was only sex. I only love you." She went on and on. Actually, she went through the Cheater's Handbook and then started to repeat herself as I refused to speak until she ran out of breath. I do try to not interrupt as I hate those who do interrupt and I hate to hate myself for my thoughtless actions.

Finally she collapsed on the bed. The one where we had not cuddled, snuggled or done anything remotely sexual for the past five months. The waterworks started. I might have stopped my confrontation except I knew that Christie, as an amateur actress, could turn on the tears anytime she wanted. I let her go for a bit. I was in no hurry but I imagined she was. After all she was supposed to meet up with her 'girlfriends' in a few minutes.

When the sniffles started to subside I handed her a box of tissues. "Shall we continue? I know your 'girlfriends' are waiting." I didn't use air quotes as she was not looking up but the sneer in my voice with the word "girlfriends" made her look up.

Maybe she wasn't dissembling and had been truly crying as she had to repeat herself a couple of times before I finally understood what she was blubbering. "What now? How do we proceed to where you forgive me and love me again?"

I wanted to sarcastically chuckle but held back. I let my shoulders slump a little. "First, you go out as you planned. I agree that you have been stuck in mother mode too long. You obviously don't feel that I am lover material any longer so go and have your adult time with your 'girlfriends'." I used the air quotes again.

Christie bristled. "Stop that! You know how that pisses me off."

Now I did visibly shrug my shoulders. "Like I give a flying fuck." I paused to let that sink in. She was speechless as I never spoke like that to her. I continued. "As I said, go, and get the fuck out of this house for the evening, night, whatever floats your boat. I will take care of your brat while you are gone."

She started to speak but I shushed her. "When you get back, I will leave. You have been so self-absorbed lately that you didn't notice that I have removed everything I wish to keep. It has been moved to my new apartment." I tossed her the packet. "That contains a copy of my divorce paperwork. This is just a courtesy copy. You will be officially served later this evening. Do you want it to be in front of your friends or at Bill's place? It is your choice."

She didn't reply as she was looking at the innocuous legal sized envelop like it was a snake. "Oh well, the process server will just have to decide when the time is right."

"Just so you know, Monday my attorney is petitioning the court to have my name removed from Samuel's birth certificate. Included in the packet is the result of the DNA test that shows I cannot be his father. I don't know if Bill Bailey is the father but I really don't care."

I have no idea how much my revelations impinged on her consciousness but I was now done. I was sure that Sam needed a diaper change. He might not be my son but I sure as hell wasn't going to neglect him. He might even need feeding so I suppose I should get out a bottle of Christie's breast milk and start the warming process. I left Christie sitting on the bed still staring at the envelop. Her fantastic makeup job was ruined. Darn, that was a shame. NOT!

Now, I know the haters will be chomping at the bit. How could I be so heartless and cruel. Don't I have any feelings for my wife of ten years? Of course I did. When I figured out what she was doing when not with me I was devastated. I would sit in my recliner and cry. Christie didn't seem to notice. I became depressed. Along with that came insomnia and lack of appetite. I don't drink so I didn't imbibe to excess. I lost weight. Again, Christie didn't pay any attention. She had her Bill and Samuel to keep her occupied.

After checking and finding out that Samuel was not my son, I decided to suck it up and stay the course even though he was not my biological son. After making that decision, I started to eat again and joined a dojo to help find my center and work out my frustration. That improved my mental well-being and the exercise helped my sleep. All was well until Christie announced that she was going to start her "girls' night out" last week with this Friday night the first night out. I then came to the conclusion that she was continuing to meet Bill and that it was time for the final confrontation.

As I fed Samuel I thought about how I had fucked up Christie's plans for tonight. I allowed myself a little smile of satisfaction. There was no sound from the bedroom. I had no idea if she was still going out. Actually, I hoped she would so I could finish packing my last few belongings and move them to my car.

Samuel was finally finished. I burped him and put him down to sleep. I made myself some hot tea with honey as a sweetener and sat down in my chair and turned on the flat screen. I pulled up the YouTube app and started surfing for cat videos. They always helped entertain and relax me.

About twenty minutes later I heard a soft sound as the door to the garage from the kitchen closed. Then I heard the motor for the garage door cycle. A few minutes later the door cycled again and I knew I was alone with Samuel.

I found that I had been leaning forward anxiously. With a deep sigh I leaned back. I could now finish my move out of her life. As a famous person once said, "It is now over except for the shouting." Tomorrow would be a new day. This time of year it promised to be a beautiful day.

I do want to thank those of you that have sent me emails asking for more stories. I am sorry that I have taken so long to post. I have quite a few stories in progress but just can't find the right endings. Also, life happened to interfere with my thought processes. First I retired but family needs have taken all of that supposed free time that retirement brings. Major surgeries to close family members and the death of another close family member have been the priorities. I do thank you for your kind thoughts.