Indecent Proposal

While you were in the hospital, your wife was living with an oligarch. If you're interested, follow the link...

Next was the link where I should follow.

For the sake of curiosity, I clicked it, and was thrown out to a site where there were various photos from some corporate party. Among others, I found a photo of my wife standing next to the owner of Iterra Belykh. Both were dressed formally, she in an evening gown, which I had not seen her in before, and he in a tuxedo. The party was clearly not a simple one, I wondered what my spouse was doing there. They were standing next to each other, half-facing, holding some kind of drink in their hands, and smiling. It seemed to be nothing special, but somehow my heart felt like it was throbbing in my chest and my mouth was dry.

At first, I wanted to tell my wife about it immediately, and ask her what it might be about, but then, calming down a bit, I decided to check things out more thoroughly before I confronted her.

That evening I tried as hard as I could to sense any falsehood in my wife's behavior, any unfamiliar scent, anything that might confirm or deny the information I had received, but I found nothing.

I agonized for a couple of days, not knowing how to solve this problem, not risking talking to Marina, but then I remembered that my classmate, Valentin Isaev, works in the security service of one of the banks. He certainly should be able to get information. I met with him, briefly explained the problem and asked for help. He agreed.

About a week later, Valentin called and made an appointment for tomorrow, in a café 'Viola', saying that he had some information.

All this time I was tormented by suspicion, and naturally it affected my relationship with Marina, and our sex life gradually went downhill. Marina was nervous, tried to find out what was bothering me, but I pretended that we had a backlog at work, and soon everything would be fine, but I felt like shit myself. "Could it be that my beloved wife really cheated on me? And at a time like that!"

Then I remembered all the inconsistencies that I had noticed before but attributed to her worries about me. Now her reservations, her strange behavior took on an entirely different meaning. But she could not be such a good actress that she could hide the appearance of a lover from me. After all, all her emotions, when she was flying to me, were so natural...

Tomorrow, though, it will probably be clearer.

***

The next day, Saturday, I told my wife that I had an important meeting, and went to 'Viola', where Valentine had already ordered us a shish kebab with vodka.

"You know, old man, it looks like the information is confirmed. I managed to find out that Marina lived for some time with Belykh at his country house, the neighbors of Iterra's owner saw it. Again, she was driven by Mikhail Vasilyevich's personal chauffeur in Belykh's own limousine. Finally, one of the maids testified that her boss introduced Marina Viktorovna as their new mistress. Is it true that she fucked him? No one can say for sure, because no one was a fly on the wall, but they slept in the same bed, that's for sure. So, I condole, and let's have a drink."

He raised a glass, and we drank vodka without clinking in one gulp, after which Valentin started to eat kebab. I couldn't eat at all. To be honest, I did not expect such a blow. Until the last moment I hoped that all this was a lie, just some spiteful person was trying to split us up, and suddenly everything turned out to be true.

My heart squeezed and ached, and I wanted to get drunk and fall into oblivion. Marina is my love but behaved in such a way. No one can be trusted!

Gradually, as I drank, anger began to grow in me. Well, what? I did not please her? What's wrong with me that I displeased her? Already the second woman leaves me. Of course, Marina did not say anything about leaving, but I am a man. I can't live with a slut who's tempted by money. And the main thing here is money, since mine and Mikhail's income just aren't comparable. It's obvious, because everything else we had quite on par.

I wondered when she was going to tell me to leave. No, that would not happen, nor would she leave me. The bitch who traded me for a hound dog who only needed her as a toy.

I don't remember how I got home. It seemed Valentin had taken care of me.

Sunday morning, the first thing I saw when I woke up were Marina's worried eyes.

"Sergey, what's wrong with you? What happened?"

"You happened," I thought, but muttered aloud, "I didn't calculate my strength correctly. Everything will pass soon."

I got up and wandered into the bathroom to clean myself up.

My head was pounding, and I wanted to lie down and forget myself somewhere dark. The images of my wife fucking that oligarch flashed in my head. Holy Hell! She was cheating on me at exactly the moment of my infirmity. I groaned, leaning against the sink, into which a stream of water pounded, which I finally stuck my head under.

After cleaning myself up a bit, I immediately got ready to leave, not even having had breakfast, unable to be around the cheater. Marina tried to say something, but I interrupted her:

"Later, in the evening," and quickly left the house.

I was walking like a zombie, until I discovered that I was in the neighborhood where Sveta lived, my subordinate, who had been make goo-goo eyes at me for a long time without success. She was quite a pretty girl, a few years younger than me, always trying to please, to make me talk, but until today I had never been interested, and today I wanted to complain to someone about the injustice of life, so, against my intentions I stopped at her place.

"If she's not home, I'll go get drunk somewhere," I decided, dialing the number of the apartment on the intercom.

Once, a long time ago, I walked Svetlana home after a corporate party, and that's how I remembered the number of the apartment. That time there was nothing, just a light kiss, and I ran home to Marina. That night she was on duty and could not be with me at the party.

This time after a couple of rings, a girl's voice answered. "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's me." I couldn't get anything more intelligent out of myself.

"Oh, Sergey Anatolievich! Come in," and the electronic lock clicked.

I took the elevator to the tenth floor, and in the door was already standing a girl in a light robe.

"Come in, Sergey Anatolievich. Is something wrong?"

"Well, I don't even know how to say it..."

"Come on in. Would you like some tea?"

"I will, and not just tea," I answered rather cheekily.

The girl blushed, but led me into the kitchen, where she immediately set the table and got a full bottle of vodka from the fridge.

"Isn't it too early?" she asked timidly, pointing to it.

"Just right," I assured her, quickly pouring the vodka into the shot glasses I had taken out of the sideboard and moving one to her.

"Oh, I won't," Svetlana blushed, but under my attentive gaze, still took it and asked:

"What are we drinking for?"

"For freedom!"

"What? What freedom?" The girl did not understand.

"For my freedom," I clinked her glass and quickly tipped out mine, immediately filling it again...

I came to myself around seven o'clock in the morning and found myself lying in bed with Svetlana naked in my arms. I wasn't wearing anything either. My memory gave out bits and pieces of information. How I poured out my heart to a girl; everything I thought about love and fidelity, constantly drinking new portions of vodka and demanding the same from her. How I decided to take revenge on my wife, and how Svetlana, blushing and crying, helped me to do it, saying that she would never... I never remembered what "would never", but what had happened in bed came back to me little by little.

I can't say that Svetlana was better than Marina, or that I was some kind of superman, but, nevertheless, I tried to be at my best and, judging by the moans and cries of the girl, I succeeded. She was snoozing now, her head resting on my shoulder, with her leg on my stomach, hugging my waist at the same time.

My heart was still aching, but slowly a plan was brewing in my head.

Trying not to disturb the girl, I got up and went into the kitchen to make coffee.

About half an hour later, when I had already fried an eggs and sausage found in the fridge, the alarm clock rang, and Sveta crawled into the kitchen, wrapping her robe.

"Oh, Sergey Anat... "

"Sergey, just Sergey," I interrupted her. "We've been intimate tonight so it would be foolish to use full name."

"Oops," she blushed sweetly again, but immediately corrected herself:

"Sergey, what will happen now?"

"I guess everything will be as it should be. I'll definitely divorce, and whether something will work out with you, then we'll see."

The girl nodded her head, and then asked:

"And what will happen to Marina Viktorovna?"

"Whatever she wants, that's what will happen. Let her go to her oligarch... if he accepts her. I don't care."

***

Marina

There was something wrong with Sergey these past few days. I couldn't figure out what it was, but I had a bad feeling. I tried my best to find out what was going on, deep in my heart connecting it to what had happened half a year before. I still didn't know what to do. I didn't have the heart to tell my husband everything, dropping to him the burden of information about events he could no longer influence. To say that he could have died was like making excuses, especially since it was not certain, and to use others, like Dmitri Anatolievich, as proof was to let the story out, which I did not want at all. I decided it was better to let it be my sin, and mine alone; he didn't deserve any of this.

The three months I'd spent with Mikhail left me with a fuzzy memory, as if it hadn't happened to me, but when I tried to imagine telling this to Sergey, I suddenly felt weak and nauseous. My stomach felt like something twisted and I had to run quickly into the bathroom, trying to restrain my rebellious stomach. Luckily, I didn't vomit, but my mood was below the plinth.

Yesterday, Sergey practically ran away from home without telling me anything. He still is not here, and itis already time to go to work. Where did he spend the night? What happened to him? Was that...? No, it can't be, nobody knows anything...

I went to wash my face and get ready for the new workday.

All day long everything fell out of my hands, even our surgeon, Alexander Mikhailovich, noticed it, and he said, "My dear, you are obviously out of shape today, is something wrong?"

"I just have a headache."

"Well, maybe you'd better take the day off, come to your senses, you're not much use today anyway."

"Yeah, I guess that would be better," I muttered, and went to the head of the department.

When I returned home, I kept thinking about what had happened. It was obvious that Sergey was affected by something strong, and I was beginning to suspect that he had gotten some information about me and Mikhail. My heart clenched and thumped hard.

So, without even making dinner, I sat in prostration until it started to get dark.

***

There was the sound of the lock being opened.

"Sergey!" I rushed to the door. But my husband silently walked past me, without a word. Just as silently he began to gather the suitcases, and my heart sank down, and my legs could no longer hold me, so that I fell on the couch in the living room.

"Why?" was all he asked, as he continued to throw his things into the two suitcases he usually went on business trips with.

What could I tell him? That I didn't want to put him in front of a terrible choice: to die or to become a cuckold? But even death wasn't guaranteed, so I'd only cuckolded him because of the likelihood of it.

I tried to say something, but my throat tightened, and tears gushed from my eyes.

"I... I... I didn't mean to... it just happens..." I tried to squeeze out, trying unsuccessfully to hold back the sobs.

"Ah, just happens," my husband asked sarcastically, and a contemptuous sneer appeared on his face. "I suggest we do not prolong the show, and just go together to the registry office and draw up everything by mutual consent. I can't live with you anyway, so there's no need to prolong the agony. I will leave the apartment to you, though you do not deserve it, but I am a man, I will earn my own money, but what will happen to you when he leaves you..."

After these words, my soul went to my heels, and my body froze, and I clearly understood that it was all over. All my emotions had gone somewhere. I understood that later it would still hit me, but at the moment my strength had returned to me, and I asked as calmly as I could, "When?"

"Tomorrow, at lunchtime, let's say twelve o'clock."

I said nothing, nodding silently.

When he left, I let the tears flow. Memory was reproducing all of our special moments, all of the joys and sorrows we'd experienced together. But at the same time, moments of sex with Mikhail flashed up from time to time. And each time it was like a whiplash, which made my soul ache even more.

The next day was one big nightmare. I remember how I signed the divorce papers, how I was walking somewhere afterwards, not thinking, but somehow, I still ended up at home. How I was coming to work, doing everything like a robot. Everything inside me froze like ice. But on the second day I threw up right in the office, and it somehow got to my boss.

"Honey, you don't look so good. What's the matter? I heard you were vomiting."

"I must have eaten something," I answered blankly.

"No, no, no, this won't work. Why don't you tell me what it is that's bothering you?"

"I feel nauseous sometimes, especially after meals, and lately I often have to run to the bathroom. I'm worried about cystitis."

"I wonder if you're pregnant."

"God, just what I was missing!" My head was all messed up. Not only was my divorce bad, I have a baby...

Not that I was against the baby, I just could not imagine how I could raise it alone, but to talk about it to my ex-husband seemed to me impossible. It was like trying to bind him by child, begging for forgiveness. No, it was decided that if I am really pregnant, it will be just mine.

A week later, the test clearly showed I was pregnant. That night I cried until I fell asleep, saying goodbye to all that I had with Sergey and getting ready to go on living alone. I was well aware that the single mother is unlikely to attract the attention of decent men, so I decided that I will raise the child alone, not asking anyone for help. The main thing was to hide it from my parents, otherwise they would tell Sergey everything, and he would decide that this was my ploy to get him back. Having set myself up for this, I gradually fell asleep, and in the morning began my new life: without a husband, but with a child.

***

Mikhail

As I had promised, when her husband returned, I severed all ties with Marina, although, to be honest, I did not want to. I was surprised at myself: I seemed to have gotten everything I wanted from that woman. I was not a monk at all, and after Marina I had had several affairs with women who were much more skillful than that nurse, but I still lacked something, and so I soon broke up with them in search of that something I could not express. I always broke up with my dates pretty easily, when I felt they were about to enter my life. Nevertheless, some worm bugged me. I must say that at times her image appeared in my head, but I drove it away by having another affair.

Shortly after Marina's reunion with her husband, I had to go on a long business trip outside Russia, to solve the problem of expanding the business by buying a plant that produces boilers. The matter dragged on, and I did not return home until about six months later.

Upon arrival, on the first day I was informed that Marina had recently divorced her husband. The reason is unknown, but I think it had something to do with what was going on during his treatment. I can't say that it upset me in any way, or that I felt some guilt, we are all adults, and how to live our lives we decide for ourselves. Nevertheless, I decided to visit Marina and ask if she had any needs. It was nothing special, a simple courtesy.

It was just about time for another routine checkup, so I went to the clinic in the morning, and at some point, I 'accidentally' met Marina. I must say, she somehow changed. She was no longer that active girl, always ready to laugh over an uncomplicated joke, but she did not look sad. Moreover, she had a distinctive femininity that made my heart tremble.

"Good afternoon, Marina."

"Oh, hello, Mikhail Vasilyevich. How do you do?"

"Well, why are you talking to me with full name, we used to be with the short one," I was surprised.

"Well, that was before. Truth is, who am I to call the almighty boss on short name," and she finally smiled, for a moment spotlighting her former self, but then returned to her serious incarnation. "Excuse me, they're waiting for me in the surgery room, there's a patient after a car accident." And she turned around and, tapping her heels, ran away from me.

"Well, okay," I thought, heading to the next office.

In the evening, I went with my colleagues to a party, where I got unexpectedly drunk, and woke up at home, where I had been taken by security, with a dry mouth and an unbearable desire to urinate.

Yes, it had been a long time since I had been this drunk, probably because of the nerves after the difficult negotiations.

I should go to the doctor, have him prescribe some pills, maybe they would help. At the same time, I'll have a look at Marina. Hey, that's not necessary. What do I need her for? Spent material. But in the depths of my soul there was a desire to see her again.

"What are you doing tonight, Marina?" I switched to short name, turning to a rushing past nurse.

"Why? - She stopped and looked at me with her green eyes.

"Yes, I wanted to invite you somewhere, let's say, a restaurant."

"No, I've had enough of restaurants," she grinned. "And what do you need me for? Spent material, isn't it? Or haven't you played enough yet?"

I felt as if I'd been struck with a whip, so much it was in tune with my thoughts the day before. The blood rushed to my face. Who was she to dare to behave this way? However, I immediately pulled myself together.

"I may just want to renew our acquaintance. Didn't we have a good time together?"

"You know, Mikhail Vasilyevich, there is no such thing as love from under a stick, and without love everything is not so rosy." She shook her head and added, "I think you should look for someone else, she would be happy." And then she took off again, this time to the nurses' room.

I pondered for a week, trying to understand myself. After all, there were so many young and beautiful ladies in the world that would be happy if I just condescended to them, but this one, look, builds herself. In another week I realized that I simply could not get this blond green-eyed girl out of my head, something had caught me. Moreover, I, a convinced bachelor, suddenly from time to time began to catch myself on matrimonial plans.

"Fight fire with fire," was a sudden lifesaving thought, and I threw myself into a binge again. Thanks to a certain stagnation in the holding company, all things were spinning, not requiring my participation at the moment. Wine, beautiful women, but after a couple of weeks the frenzy subsided, and again my heart was unaccustomedly sore. It was as if a veil had fallen from me. I realized I needed this woman. I needed her so much that I threw myself on the attack, like a boy, ready to lay at her feet everything I had. And I was simply dumbfounded when I finally realized that all of this had no such value in her eyes.