If Only We'd Known

"Goddamn you, Jessica! You fucking slut! You lying shit! Cheap filthy whore!" shouted Malcolm to no one in particular. He had to vent somehow, or else he would burst and his mind would flow out like water from a broken dam. He knew he'd utterly lose it then.

He stepped slowly away from the window, his face set with grim determination.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this. I'm going to find out who Jessica has been seeing, and whatever else is going on. And, I'm going to hopefully prove Claire wrong." promised Malcolm to himself. With that plan of action established, Malcolm went to bed. Although his sleep was fitful, in the morning, he was sure Jessica's sleep was even more lacking than his. And that belief comforted his tortured mind a little, enough for a slight, if foreboding, smile to crease his face.

~N~

The days following the night his wife left the house, were filled with a thick, blurry, shifting fog. Malcolm went to work; often staying late, even beyond the hours of his business partner, Eric. He ate, he shit, he slept. He performed each task and every action adequately enough, but it was as if he were a robot. He was on auto pilot. He remembered very little of the mundane activity of each day. In fact, he felt no particular emotion other than that of the determination for the plan he put into play. So when he wasn't at work, he did those things necessary to carry out his plan.

Then one day, he had the first of many answers.

~N~

Several days after he'd thrown Jessica out, Malcolm's door bell rang. It was his daughter, Trisha.

"Hi, Trish! Come to see your old-" greeted Malcolm with a warm smile. It was the first such smile to grace his face in many days.

Entering and walking past him, Trisha said, without any preamble, "I've come to get some of Mom's things." Her greeting was both curt and accusatory.

Taken slightly aback by her abrupt manner, but still smiling, Malcolm said, "Okay. I've packed some of her things. I'll help you carry-"

"I've got it. Mom gave me a list of what she wants." And with that stated, Malcolm's nineteen year old daughter went off to gather whatever she'd come to get.

Trisha was normally a gregarious and blithe young woman. Her present attitude disturbed Malcolm greatly, but he knew that she must be under extreme stress now knowing that her parents were separated. Shrugging it off, he let his smile slip back from where it'd come from, before Malcolm went back into the kitchen to finish his lunch.

As he chewed the last bite, Malcolm was reflecting on the past, when Trisha swept into the kitchen at the hectic speed only the young can endure, stopped to stand before his seated form, with arms akimbo and wrapped in her own brand of fury, cried out, "How could you, Dad?"

Caught by surprise at her question and the vehemence behind it, Malcolm uttered the only thing that came to mind. "Huh?"

"How could you throw Mom out of her home?" cried Trish, with tears beginning to streak down her face.

Standing and picking up the used dishes, he walked to the sink. He was buying time, more so than to wash the dishes. He didn't know how to answer his daughter's question without explaining in detail. He knew Trisha would never be satisfied with a ambiguous answer, she would continue to question everything, pursuing it until she was satisfied with the explanation. She was in some regards very much like him. Yet, Malcolm wasn't ready to open up, especially with any degree of detail, not until he knew, with a unshakable certainty, all the facts, which he was presently in the process of acquiring.

"Answer me, Dad!" demanded a weepy, but thoroughly pissed off young woman. Then, in nearly the same moment, a sudden gasp escaped Trisha and she asked in disbelief, "Are you cheating on Mom?"

With his back to his daughter, he almost snorted with ironic amusement, instead he shook his head in answer. He looked up from the plate he was scrubbing, and peered out the window above the sink. His gaze settled on the large yard behind the house. A momentary flash of memory unexpectedly filled his mind. It was just a backyard, and the swing set and the other children's play conveniences, that once filled it, were now long gone, but his memory overlay what his eyes saw. Two young children running about, screaming their joy and excitement as they played. Their mother stood watchfully by as she watered the bed of flowers that she put so much care tending to.

As quickly as the memory came, it just as abruptly disappeared back into the deep recesses of his nearly forgotten memories. Still, his ears continued to echo the happy sounds of his children enjoying them selves.

"Trisha, why don't you sit down while I finish the dishes, then I'll try to explain."

"No! Now, daddy. I'm-"

"Trisha!" growled Malcolm in irritation at her uncompromising attitude.

Trisha was smart enough to know how far to push things with her dad, and she'd just pushed as far as she dare go, so like a obedient daughter, Trisha clamped her mouth shut, pulled out a chair and sat. She wasn't happy, far from it, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

In a couple of minutes, Malcolm joined her. "Care for something to drink? I have-" opened Malcolm amicably.

"No, thanks. I just want to know why you threw mom out."

Taking a breath and sighing, Malcolm wiped a hand down his face, before replying.

"What did your mother say, happened?" asked Malcolm, his voice carefully controlled.

Trisha shook her head, bitterly saying, "She didn't. She said you kicked her out. That's all she would say. I asked her to tell me, but she just cried and said to ask you. So I'm asking. What happened that made you throw mom out of y'all's home?"

Malcolm looked at his daughter and saw just how much she looked like Jessica when she was her age. The comparison brought a pang of pain to his heart. Which in turn hardened him further.

"Your mother has done things -grievous things- that I can't and won't accept. Because of those actions, your mother's and my relationship has been adversely affected. I don't want to discuss the details, so don't ask me for the specifics."

Trisha heard her father's words of explanation, they were expressed in a monotone voice, almost droning in its presentation, yet, she knew knew her father well enough to hear the pain that was hidden behind each word. Still, for the life of her, Trisha couldn't believe that her mother would so deeply hurt the man she claimed to love.

"Mom wouldn't do anything to hurt you, Dad. I know mom. She's stubborn and argumentative, but she isn't mean and callous. Maybe, your skin is a little thinner than you think and you took whatever she said the wrong way?" said Trisha, hopefully.

"No, Trisha, whether your mother's intent was to hurt me or not, she still committed acts that have no place in a good marriage. Some men, some women, might be able to over look the- indulgences of their spouses, but I can't." Malcolm gave a tight lipped smile to his daughter, to help take the sting out of his last words, as they were stated bleakly, but firmly. Turning his smile into a more pleasant one, he asked, "Did you get what you came-"

Suddenly wide eyed, Trisha, stood up -actually, she shot up from the table- the chair skidding a couple of feet back by the hard and sudden contact with the back of her straightening legs.

"You and mom are getting a divorce?!"

Malcolm's strained silence was all Trisha needed in answer.

"No, Daddy! You can't divorce mom. She loves you and you love her! Please, Daddy, don't do this." pled Trisha as she burst into tears of sorrow.

Malcolm hung is head a moment, listening to his daughter's quiet sobs, then stood and calmly walked over to his daughter, where he brought her into his arms, cupping her head against his chest. "It's okay, Tee. You go ahead and cry. Remember, no matter what happens with me and your mother, I'll always love you. And, she will, too."

He'd started calling her "Tee" when she was still just a tyke. It was at her request, since Trisha had had trouble pronouncing her own name early on, and that's what she referred to her self as, "Tee". Malcolm had quickly grown used to it and became his term of endearment for his daughter, however, Jessica despised the nick name, complaining it wasn't a proper name for any girl, let alone her daughter. It wasn't until Trisha had turned fourteen and entered high school, when she asked Malcolm to stop calling her "Tee", because it was embarrassing to be called that in front of her friends.

Saddened by his daughter's request, as he knew, the closeness and camaraderie they'd thus shared, had come to an end, nevertheless, Malcolm stopped calling her by that nick name. Until now.

After a few minutes, her sobs quieted down and she pulled away from Malcolm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to act the waterfall, but you caught me unexpectedly. I mean, really, I'm a grown woman. I attend a university and I live on my own. If you and mom get divorced it really shouldn't affect me. Not like this, anyway."

With a slightly amused grin at the mention of his daughter proclamation of "I'm a grown woman", Malcolm quietly said, more to himself than to Trisha, "It's okay. I didn't expect it, either. Stuff happens, and often, it's stuff we don't like, but all we can do is move forward." He gave his daughter one last hug, before releasing her. "Are you going to be okay, now?"

Trisha nodded, as she swiped her face of tears. She grabbed a paper towel and moved to the sink to finish removing whatever vestige remained of her sorrow.

Helpless to further comfort his daughter, he sighed in frustration before saying, somewhat cheerfully, "Okay, then I'll help you pack and carry whatever it is your mom told you to get. Come on, let's do this and I'll take you out to eat, Trisha. Alright?"

"Okay, Daddy. I'm okay now. And you can call me Tee. If you want. I kinda like it. But, only if you get me a M&M's sundae for dessert."

Chuckling in amusement at her demand, Malcolm said, "Okay, Tee, you got yourself a deal!"

~N~

Mona was one of the kindest, most considerate and caring of ladies. She'd married young, at sixteen, to a older man named Roy Lenard, who was all of four years her senior, which considering her age at the time, was definitely an older man. Despite some rough issues, in particular money problems, their marriage succeeded where others failed. Mona was also a shrewd judge of character, and she made it known to Roy, early on in her marriage, that she wouldn't put up with any high jinks or tomfoolery. Roy was going to be a proper husband and a good father to their children. That was one reason they stayed together, also, Roy, despite his questionable character in other ways, loved his wife dearly and would never do anything to hurt her.

Mona never forgot the troubles she and her husband had gone through, and it tempered her judgment regarding others. So, when Jessica was thrown out by Malcolm, as soon as Mona heard about it, she rushed over to help comfort Jess.

By then Jessica was staying at her parents old home, along with her son and his two room mates. Neither of the two room mates protested Jackson's mother living with them. First off, she was a great cook and secondly, she was a looker, even as a mature woman, she retained her beauty and shapely female form. Which, to some degree, embarrassed Jackson, especially when his room mates drooled all over themselves when speaking of his mother, as a "hot babe".

Two weeks had come and gone, and Trisha had come by the day before and dropped off her mother's things. Although Trisha was just as amicable as before, Jessica had sensed a distinct change in her. It was the little things that gave it away. A slight hesitation here, where there shouldn't have been. A contemplative look, and when caught, Trisha's expression changed to a somewhat shameful look. Yes, it was the little things that gave Jessica the first hints of trouble with her daughter.

Today, was the third day in a row that Mona had come to visit, and Jessica was getting a bit weary of her visits.

"So, Jessica Ann, how are you today? I brought over some dumplings for you. I remembered how much you've enjoyed them in the past."

Setting the Tupperware-like container on the table, Mona immediately jumped on her favorite subject, Bingo.

"I'm telling you, girl, the winnings at some of those parlors are pretty large. Why, some even get up to one-thousand dollars. Not bad for about two hours of blotting ink on a small piece of cheap paper. I would like for you join me one night. I think you'd have loads of fun. More fun than- " Mona cast a glance around the room, stopping to gaze intently at a couple of walls, as if she had X-ray vision and could see the mess in the rooms on the other side. "Than staying here all night. I'm sure the boys enjoy visiting with you, but- Say! I got an idea! How about this? This Thursday you come with me to a game. They're having a triple game. If you happen to win all three games, the grand prize is a cruise for two to the Bahamas! Isn't that wonderful?!"

Jessica wasn't sure how to reply. She didn't want to play Bingo, but neither did she want to hurt Mona's feelings. Just then, Jackson came in through the front door.

"Mom! Mom? Where are- Oh, there you are." shouted Jackson, as the door's return spring slammed it shut with a loud crisp bang. "Hi, Mrs. Lenard."

"Hello, Jackson. I swear you're getting to look more and more like your father everyday."

"Uh, thanks, Mrs. Lenard." Turning quickly to his mother, hoping to avoid any more of Mrs. Lenard's awkward comments, Jackson said rapid fire, "Mom, I know this is short notice, but I forgot that we're having a bake sale for a club at the university, this Friday. Do you think you can whip up a couple of cakes on Thursday?"

Jessica had been caught by surprise at Mona's off-handed compliment of Jackson, and suspicious thoughts quickly filled her head. 'What did she mean by that? Did Malcolm know that children weren't his, and had he told Roy and Mona about that? Was Mona playing some sort of sick twisted mental game?' Then her son's request penetrated directly into her dark place, Jessica quickly jumped at the chance to beg off going to Bingo.

"Sure, Jackson. Oh, wait-" Jessica replied, before turning to Mona and smiling. "I'm sorry, Mona. I'd like to go with you, but family comes first, you know. Maybe some other time?"

Mona was looking forward to Jessica joining her for Bingo, but she understood perfectly about family. "Of, course. Don't you worry, dear, there'll be plenty of other chances to get together."

"Thank you so much for understanding, Mona." said a truly grateful Jessica -although her gratitude was for another reason than for what Mona assumed- as she rose from the chair.

"Not at all my, my dear." Taking her cue, Mona stood as well. "I must be going. Roy we'll be home soon, and if dinner isn't on the table when he arrives, he turns into a real growly bear." chuckled Mona at her own brand of levity. "You know men. They get bigger, they get older, but they still get cranky as a baby if they aren't fed, burped and changed."

After Mona left, Jessica's thoughts returned to questioning just how much Mona knew and whether she was playing a mind game with her. It seemed everything Mona uttered was indirectly addressing Jessica's marital situation and the cause of its problems.

'Maybe, I'm just being paranoid.' thought Jessica, as she prepared dinner for her son and his room mates. 'Maybe I'm feeling some guilt, just a little, and that's playing tricks on me. Maybe. Maybe not.'

~N~

Ian Wilson was not a very patient man. His burning desire for revenge had consumed his every waking moment, and even some of his sleeping moments. He had fantasized and dreamt of this very thing coming to pass. It was all he could do to hold himself in check, so many times.

So it was with a sigh of vast satisfaction that he heard of Malcolm's discovery of his wife's affair with him. He was delirious with joy. The years of pain and humiliation, were tempered by the pursuit and conquest of one Jessica Ann Harris. Not to say the least, but convincing her to have his children was a stroke of genius to his twisted sense of vengeance. Not that he cared for his children, or anyone else's children. It had simply been another opportunity to further his cause. He felt he had truly fucked over Malcolm Harris. But, no, he wasn't finished with him, yet. There was one more thing to do.

"Hi, Jessica. How are you?" asked Ian with false sincerity, as soon as Jessica answered her phone. He'd called her to insure that she was still his, that she was still aboard and more importantly that she hadn't grown doubts as to his own false feelings of her.

"Hello, baby. I'm fine. How are you doing?" replied a beaming Jessica.

"Lonely. I've been waiting on you. I haven't heard from you in days. Is everything okay?" asked Ian cautiously.

"Yes, honey. Everything is fine. And, I miss you, too. I wish I was there right now and in your arms. I would have called you, but it's been a bit hectic. Plus, I thought it best to let Malcolm cool down. Also, I don't want anyone to know about us until I'm divorced. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea, and assume I'm a slut. So, I'm keeping it low key for now."

'Oh, but you're a slut of the highest order, my dear Jessica, you just don't know it, yet. But, you will, and so will everyone else.' coldly thought Malcolm at her words, wishing he could say outright what he was thinking. Instead, Ian cooed soothingly, "Shh... I understand, baby. You don't have to explain."

Ian heard a loud breath whoosh into the phone, then, "Oh, baby. You always know the right thing to say at the right time. I love you so much! I wish, oh, how I wish, I'd met you first!"

"Me too. Me too, baby." Agreed Ian in a gentle, but yearning tone. Then, more firmly, he said, "But, it is what it is. All we can do is play the hand were dealt. Anyway, soon, you and I will be together. Nothing will matter after that."

'I know, Ian. I know. But, it's so hard sometimes." said Jessica, sadly, somewhat complainingly.

"What do you mean? What's so hard? Oh, you mean my- you know, my Johnson? Yes, it's hard, baby! It gets hard just thinking of you."

"Oh, Ian, stop that. I'm trying to be serious." admonished Jessica, but she was giggling like a school girl.

"I'm sorry, baby. But, you do things to me, even over the phone. Just your voice." explained Ian, ruefully. "I imagine your breasts cupped in my hands, while my tongue paints swirls around your hardening nipples. My dick, nice and stiff by this time, is throbbing at the anticipation of entering your sweet wet pussy. But, I take it slow. I slide in little by little, feeling every millimeter of your velvety softness. Your pussy grips my dick, and baby, oh, you're so tight!"

Ian stopped talking to listen, hearing a slight gasp and a loud sigh.

"Are you with me, baby? Do you want me to stop?" Ian asked softly, teasingly.

"No! Don't stop. Keep going! Please!" Ian noticed Jessica's voice had changed, it carried a urgent desire and a overpowering need in its whispered tones now made harsh with wanton lust.

"Okay, baby." Ian paused to regain his thoughts. "So I'm slowly entering you. You can feel the heat of my dick and I can feel the warmth and wetness of your pussy that's trying to grasp and pull my dick in quickly. Then I run my finger around your little butt hole, I tease you, pretending I'm going to enter you."

"Oh! Oh, Ian!" softly pants Jessica, through the phone.

Smiling savagely at how easily he could dominate this supposedly good woman, Ian continued his softly spoken monologue. "Even as I start to bury my dick inside you, I start to gently kiss and lightly lick your neck as my fingers rub, and pinch, and twist your now sensitive nipples."