I Did It For You

I put a hand over the microphone and quietly said to Frank, "She wants to get started right away because the case sounds interesting."

He grinned and shrugged. "I told you, man."

To Ms. DeWit I said, "Yeah, that would be great. Should I bring my evidence?"

"Your evidence?" she asked. "You already have evidence? I understood you'd just discovered the cheating."

"Yeah, but we grabbed screen shots of her online profile before it closed, and Frank and I both saw her having sex with some guy last night. And today I put a camera in my bedroom that should capture any more...bad behavior over the weekend."

"So, she really did advertise online looking for partners? Did she say specifically that she was looking for sex?"

"She said that if the guy caught her fancy that he'd be having a very hot date."

DeWit hemmed a moment. "And she was looking for guys that look like you?"

"Yeah, I still don't get what the hell that's all about."

"Listen, Matt, I don't want to get ahead of our meeting on Monday, but I just gotta ask, have you ballooned up to like 300 pounds or developed erectile dysfunction since you married?"

Yes, Frank had warned me about Kelly's bluntness, but this still caught me off guard and I answered her rude question directly, and with a bit of bite.

"Six-feet, 180-pounds, which is five pounds heavier than when we married, but I'm lifting more now, and running less. Although I did do two 10k road races last month.

"As for the other, six-and-a-half inches and still good for a 10k there too."

A slight pause was followed by, "Okay, nice to know.

"Alright, Matt, after we hang up, I'm going to open a secure data transfer site for you and I'll text you an entry code, Frank knows the portal address. Go ahead and send me whatever evidence you have and I'll review it before our meeting. Is 11:00 Monday good for you?"

"11:00 Monday, yeah, I'll see you then."

"And Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Let me add my advice to what Frank said he told you. Stay away from your wife until we meet. I'd rather you not go back into your house either. I only practice family law, not criminal defense. Okay?"

I paused a moment. "Okay."

9.

After I received the lawyer's secure data code and we'd sent her the screen grabs of Maeve's pop-up profile site, Frank did some spy shit with my phone. My treacherous wife had responded almost immediately to my text with: Missing you but hope you're having fun. Happy hunting, love you, Maeve. Now my divorce coach typed in my next text message to Maeve, telling her we hadn't gotten our deer yet and were getting ready to bunk down for the night. Then he took the phone into his home office, opened his safe, stuck his hand with the phone deep inside and closed the door up against his forearm.

"Should act like a faraday cage," he explained. "I'll hit send, but the signal should be blocked, so the phone will hold it ready. Then I'll turn off the power. You wait a couple of hours and turn it back on and it will look like the normal thing of the message being delayed until the phone found a stray signal up in the mountains."

"You read too many spy novels," I said, but inside I was glad I had his help. Forget about the faraday cage shit, I wouldn't even have remembered to keep messaging Maeve so she'd think I was still safe and sound and out of her way.

Frank then went over all his divorce financials with me, including how he'd been saddled with covering the mortgage of the house where his ex-wife still lived and paying spousal support for three years, theoretically to enable Tracy to get the education and training needed to find a better job that could get her close to the standard of living she'd enjoyed while living off Frank's salary.

Unfortunately for him, Frank hadn't found out that she'd been stepping out on him for most of a year until after she'd cut him loose and all the judgements had been handed down. Now, even though she was still regularly shacking up with the married bastard, on paper she was living alone, so Frank couldn't argue that he shouldn't have to provide support any longer.

I was hoping that Maeve's outrageous infidelity would save me from financing her slut life the way Frank was.

We began applying Frank's hard-won knowledge, doing what people do in these cases. I didn't incur a bunch of costs or losses by closing out investment accounts and such, but since I did most of the family financial stuff for us, I had all Maeve's logins. First I changed the passwords for those logins. Then I went ahead and changed the contact number on all the accounts to my new phone and changed the e-mail address to mine. Just like with our home safe I didn't expect she'd try to go there, but when the shit hit the fan, I didn't want her sprinting to grab any of my money.

I did go ahead and cancel our two extra joint credit cards after paying them off from joint checking. That left only the one she used for day-to-day expenses, on which I lowered the max limit.

Finally we were at the six-hour point from when I'd started my new phone recording in our bedroom; it was time to check the first data dump to my cloud account. I nearly lost my KFC when I saw what my wife's slut life entailed.

10.

I'd programmed my new phone to come up every fifteen minutes, starting at the top of the hour, and shoot six photos, thirty seconds apart, to capture a two-and-a-half-minute window.

For the first five bursts there were only shots of our empty bed.

At one and a quarter hours after I'd left the phone, Maeve was in the frame; she'd apparently only worked a half day - must need extra time for extra daddies, I supposed. Like the one in all the frames with her now. There were six crystal clear images of some guy with a hairy back and pot belly shoving his cock down my wife's throat. In two of the shots, his nuts were on her chin, proving she'd taken it all. One of the shots had him fully removed from her mouth, showing that the deep throat had been quite an accomplishment on her part, the guy had at least an inch on me. The shot that really did me in was the final one. She was smiling up at him with bright, shiny eyes. Her chin dripped something viscous; cum, spit, both?

Fifteen minutes later, the same back and belly were in my bed, hunched over Maeve's glorious ass. Those six shots only captured differing degrees of daylight between his crotch and her butt.

The next photo group showed only a rumpled, empty bed. I thought there might be a wet spot.

Fifteen minutes later the bed was still empty but had been made up. I went back to check, and yes, the pillowcases were different, so Maeve had apparently changed the bed linens. How considerate for her Daddies.

That was confirmed in the next set of photos when the top cover was pulled back and the new sheets were exposed. Maeve was once again on hands and knees, but this time she was sideways across the bed, with her head toward the camera so I could see her face. Her lovely face going through grimaces of pain and pleasure as a new man who could have been my brother put the sausage to her.

"Oh, shit," mumbled Frank, who was at my side, reviewing the photos. "Is that her...?"

"Yeah, that's her cum face."

The bed was empty in the next set, although I noticed a man's shoes and pants on the floor to the side. Going back, I saw they'd been in the previous group too.

Fifteen minutes later, my 'brother' had Maeve in the missionary position. His hair seemed wet, so I deduced they'd taken a shower in between their encounters.

Next came an empty, messed up bed, followed by Maeve actually changing the sheets. She wore only plain granny panties, and I thought I noticed some bruising on one large, pale tit. Hickey or manhandling? I wondered.

There were eleven more clusters of photographs. Six were empty, five captured two more lovers. One reminded me of my uncle Leo, the other was a real stretch on the family resemblance as far as I could tell. Leo featured in three bursts, Wannabe in two. There was one doggy, one cowgirl, one surprising sixty-nine, and two missionaries. In one of the missionaries, Maeve's back was arched high up off the mattress - another of her strong orgasm signs.

"I gotta get outta here," I groaned, swallowing down bile.

"Yeah," agreed Frank. "C'mon, I'll buy you a drink."

"No, I need to be alone."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Matt."

"Goddamn it, Frank, I need to puke, I need to cry, I need to be alone, alright?"

"I get that, I do. But getting caught drunk driving or kicking the next prick's ass is not going to make any of this better."

I assured him I would stay away from both bars and my house and that I would just hit the highway and drive. He wasn't happy about it, but what could he do? He agreed to send the photos of each Daddy to Kelly DeWit. Before I left, he reminded me to turn on my phone so Maeve would get my last covering text message and so he could check on me.

I thanked him again and took off to break one and a half of my promises to him.

11.

I did stay away from booze and I did hop on the highway to drive. However, I only went thirty minutes north and thirty minutes back, giving the twilight a chance to settle into full, dark night.

The supermarket was still open, so I parked among the customer cars and retraced my steps from earlier, walking up Second Street a couple of blocks to Elm, then halfway over to Third and into the alley that ran behind my house.

This time, the trashcans were back inside the yard and the back gate was locked. Still, it was only a six-and-a-half-foot wooden fence. After checking the nearby neighbors to be sure no one was out in their backyards, I took a running start and got myself up and over the fence in a second or three. When I landed, I crouched down against the fence, listening for any sounds of alarm. Then I retraced my and Frank's steps from the night before, and hunter-walked across the yard until I was up against the back of the house.

The curtain gap I'd set up earlier that day was still in place, and I had a clear diagonal shot of our bed from its left bottom corner. The last two photo groups I'd looked at had been empty with a made bed, indicating Maeve was between dates. No longer.

I was seeing a scene that had not been captured during her previous four dates. Maeve and a very young guy were standing alongside the bed, making out like teenagers as they undressed each other. Hell, the guy could have been a teenager. Was this daddy@20? Or was it fucking me at 20? Seriously, it was like looking at photos from my freshmen and sophomore years at college. Well, my nose was a little longer and he was probably an inch or two shorter in height, but the naked torso showed the same lean, cut muscles of the cross-country runner I'd been in school and the dark curls were cropped close, like I'd worn it then.

I brought up the video camera on my phone to capture yet another of her Daddies. Then I registered that the clothes he was losing were camo. Not hunter camo, but military camo. What had she called him? Her young soldier? I guessed he might be out of the nearby Army National Guard base, the same one where my father had served his last hitch. And the young shit had come over all dressed up like a true American hero to bang another man's wife. I'd had enough.

I was crossing over to the back door when the phone in my hand gave a ping. Incoming text. I ignored it. I had my foot on the first step of the back stoop when the phone vibrated and began to buzz with an incoming call. This time I looked at the screen. Frank. I rejected the call.

I jumped and nearly yelped when I suddenly heard, "I see you, asshole," coming out of the darkness behind me.

I spun around. There, looking at me over my back fence was Frank, he must have been standing in the bed of his truck. "Get your ass over here or I'm going to start honking my horn."

I scurried back to the fence, making a lot more leaf noise than I wanted, but if I didn't get this asshole out of the alley, 911 calls were going to be made - a bunch of pensioners make the best Neighborhood Watch.

"What the fuck?" I hissed up at him.

"Exactly," he hissed back.

"She's in there with some goddamned toy soldier. You know my dad was in the Guard and took shrapnel from an IED when his unit deployed to Afghanistan. And now this asshole is using that uniform to seduce my wife? I'm gonna teach him some goddamned manners!" I was seriously worked up.

"Get your ass out here or I'm going to call the cops myself."

"But—"

"Now!"

"Motherfucker!"

I had the crossties on this side of the fence and so didn't have to get a running start to get up and over. I jumped down into the bed of his truck, landing with a good bang, and saw two back porch lights going on next to my house and across the alley. "Motherfucker!"

We got into the truck and Frank pulled out nice and sedately, not putting on the headlights until we turned onto to the street.

12.

We were in a strip mall bar on Tompkins Parkway, two blocks from the supermarket. We were in a back booth and Frank had forced me to down a shot of Jim Beam and take a long draught of my Bud before he'd let me speak.

"I've had enough! She's turned my house into a goddamned brothel. I can never sleep there again, but I'll be damned if I'll let this disrespect continue."

"Okay, then, let's stop it."

He seriously caught me off guard with that one. "What?"

"Give me your phone." He held out his hand. I turned it over.

He went into my Contacts list and hit the top entry. Maeve. As the phone began ringing, he put it on speaker.

It took five, almost six rings, then my wife picked up, breathless. "Matt? Why are you...I mean, what a pleasant surprise to get a call instead of a text. I guess you're really missing—"

"Hey, Maeve, it's me, Frank."

"Frank? Why are you calling me on Matt's—Oh, God, is something wrong, is Matt okay?"

"I'm afraid not, Maeve. He had a little accident. I don't think it's too serious, but I may bring him down the mountain tonight and wanted you to know."

"Oh, God, what happened? Can I talk to him? What happened?"

"Listen, calm down, it's not that bad. I didn't want to spook you because it's not that serious - I don't think - but I noticed we had one of those rare moments when we got a good signal up here - you know, some kind of meteorological phenomena - anyway, I thought I should take the chance to reach out and give you a heads up."

"Can I talk to him?"

"Well, he's actually sleeping right now. He whacked his head pretty good on a tree branch in the dark and he laid down with an ice pack and fell asleep."

"Hit his head...do you think he has a concussion?"

"Honestly, that's what I'm most afraid of. Now, it could just be a bad bump, but I'm going to wake him up every couple of hours overnight and if he's acting weird, I'm going to run him down the mountain to the hospital in White River."

"Oh, God, should I drive up there?"

"No, of course not. Like I said..." Here Frank just let his words stop, picked up the phone and rubbed his thumb over the microphone as he moved it down below the table. "...so, no reason..."

"Frank? Frank? I didn't hear that last part, what did you say?"

Frank gave the microphone another rub. "...ly one bar now...morrow..." then he cut off the call.

"Okay," he said to me. "We've stopped it."

I laughed for the first time since my world exploded some 24 hours before.

13.

"I'm doing the talking, right?" Frank said as we walked up Third Street toward my house.

"Yes, yes," I agreed again. "As long as the asswipe doesn't mouth off."

After hanging up on my cheating wife, I'd been suddenly possessed of the urgent need to know if the prank had actually worked. Frank was certain that Maeve would kick the soldier out of our house and cancel all her other dates now that she thought I was hurt, but I had to know for sure.

He'd said, "Whatever the hell is going on, I still think she really does love you," then held up his hand to stop my obvious, angry rejoinder. "I know, I know, she has a hell of a way of showing it, but even so..."

As we walked from the bar to my house, he said he'd driven past my place on his search for me and had noticed no cars out on the street. He surmised that other than the first guy, who'd showed up Thursday, before her profile had even closed, she'd had all her other visitors park down by the supermarket to avoid raising suspicion with our neighbors.

"How thoughtful of her to save me that embarrassment," I sneered.

"Shh, I think this is him."

I looked ahead and saw a man passing under a streetlight, walking our way. He was dressed in Army battledress fatigues and wearing a camo cap.

Frank positioned himself to be between me and the asshole as we passed.

"Evening," he said to the soldier.

The bitch just half grunted through clenched teeth; he did not look happy.

"Is LLytleGyrl doing okay?" Frank had stopped and addressed this to the passing soldier's back. The kid stopped in his tracks and turned slowly toward us.

"Little girl? I don't know—"

"Damn," said Frank, turning to look at me. "He really does look like a younger you."

The kid's brow furrowed and then his eyes went wide when he turned his gaze from Frank to me.

"Young Daddy, meet Real Husband," my friend said to the stunned punk.

"Like married women, do you?" I growled.

Frank took a half step in front of me. "Down boy," he said, not quite sotto voce, clearly meaning for the kid to hear it.

"Gee, didn't you notice any pictures that looked like your older brother when you were in that married woman's house?" Frank asked the interloper. Now I registered his own anger. My buddy had been playing Mr. Cool for my benefit, but now, facing an asshole like the one who'd turned him into a cuckold, his long suffering was finally coming to the surface.

"She, she said she was divorced," the fucker stuttered.

"Not yet, but soon." My voice continued to sound like the growl of an angry bear.

"Oh, fuck." Then the kid was running. I coiled to go after him, he might be nine years younger, but I knew I could run him down in a block or two and I would run right over his back when I did.

Frank spun around and held his arms out wide in front of me. "No, man, no."

For the second time in two days I was close to knocking my best friend aside, but then I saw the anguish in his face.

"I lost Tracy to a cheater; I don't want to lose you that way too."

I released some of my tension but was still aching to go after the boy soldier.

"You've already lost the main battle, man. If you go after that shit stain, you'll win a small one, but you'll lose the war. Agg assault on some kid won't get you back Maeve or your respect, it'll just put you on trial for wider ridicule and then maybe jail time."

I felt my shoulders slump as I watched his do the same.

"Can't I beat him up just a little bit?" I finally said.

"Maybe in six months or so, after we set you up with a good alibi," he chuckled.

14.

Frank's truck was still parked down at the bar, so we sat in my rental in the store parking lot. Waiting.

Yes, Maeve had clearly thrown the soldier out before they'd consummated things, and yes, I agreed with Frank's estimation that we'd managed to throw cold water on her whole cheating weekend, but still...I had to know.

Frank was getting worn out with my obsession, but experienced cuckold and friend that he was, he agreed to give me an hour. We spent the first half in the bar, nursing beers during what should have been the toy soldier's time, then we set up in my car. It paid off.