It Was Just Sex, Honey Ch. 02

I guess you could say I'm not a lucky woman. My name is Gail, and I've been told that I have a perfect body. I was a beautiful baby at birth, a delightful child at age two, and a charming little girl at age five. Then I was an angelic little darling at age ten, a lovely young lady at age fifteen, and a stunning young woman at age twenty. I am now a radiantly alluring married lady at age twenty-six. I think I could be dressed in baggy coveralls, covered with mud from head to toe, and some guy would nudge his buddy and say, "Hey dude, check her out!"

In some ways, I'm pretty smart. Most guys seem to think that I'm blonde and beautiful, and dumb. I gave up trying to convince them differently years ago. I met Paul, my husband, about three and a half years ago. I fell in love with him, and we got married. He's very good-looking and reasonably smart. He likes to tease me about being a dumb blonde, but I just laugh along with him because I know that he doesn't really mean anything by it. At least, I thought he didn't. I'm not so sure now.

I think my marriage is over, and I don't have anyone but myself to blame. I have had four different lovers in the past five weeks. Paul leaves early every Thursday morning to visit one of his employer's four satellite stores. He stays overnight and returns late on Friday afternoon. That gave me a 24-hour window in which to experiment, and experience what it was like to have a different lover.

Paul found out what I was doing and really raised hell with me last night. He had pictures of me with all four men. He was very upset that I had cheated on him, and he's demanding a divorce. He was so mad that he went somewhere else to sleep last night. He says that the divorce papers will be served at eight o'clock this morning, and then he's going to move me out of our home. Well, it's 8:30 and the papers aren't here yet, but I just heard his truck stop in the drive.

Paul came in through the front door and found me sitting at the kitchen table. I looked up at him over my coffee cup, and said:

"Hi, honey. I'm glad you're home."

"I'm sure you are. Well, I'm home to stay but you're leaving today. Get your stuff packed and in the truck. I'll take you where ever you want to go."

"But, dear, I just don't understand why I have to leave."

"Because, you dumb fucking blonde, you've been sleeping with other men! You've broken our marriage vows. There's no way that I'll have anything to do with a woman that does that. Didn't you read the papers that were delivered this morning?"

"What papers, honey?"

"The divorce papers, you idiot!"

"I'm sorry, honey, but no one has been here this morning but you."

He was really starting to look confused. The papers were supposed to be here at 8:00, but it was about 8:45 now. He had to be wondering what had gone wrong. He kept looking through the dining room at the front door, like he was expecting something or some one. He must be psychic because the doorbell made its irritating buzz at that moment. He jumped up out of his chair and made a dash for the door. There was some anxious whispering, and then he returned to the kitchen with a rather large man.

"This is Max Cook, my private investigator. He's here to be sure that you don't do something stupid. He's also here to see to it that you leave today, just like the divorce papers say."

"But, dear, there aren't any papers. Now why don't you fix Mr. Cook a nice little drink, and we can sit here and talk about your nice little problem."

The envelope he brought the pictures in yesterday was lying on the counter behind me. I reached back, and laid it on the table in front of me. Paul just rolled his eyes and gave Mr. Cook his best "What's this dumb blonde going to do next?" look.

"Look, you dumb bitch, I don't have a problem. You're the one with the problems. You've been sleeping with other men for at least the last five Thursdays. You have been unfaithful. You've broken our marriage vows. I'm kicking you out and divorcing you. Like I said before, I won't have anything to do with an unfaithful bitch."

I removed the first few pictures from the envelope and spread them out on the table in front of Paul and Mr. Cook, and asked:

"Do you suppose Ann's husband feels the same way about Ann as you do about me? You just said you wouldn't have anything to do with an unfaithful bitch, but you're fucking her every Thursday night that you're in North City. Are you telling me that it's okay for her to be unfaithful, but not me?"

"Holy shit! Where did you get those? Damn you! You had no right! I'll fix you. So help me ...!"

He started to get out of his chair, but Mr. Cook grabbed him by his arm and told him to sit down and calm down.

"Notice the date on the first one, dear. That was your first trip to North City after our honeymoon, wasn't it? It didn't take you very long to break our vows, did it?"

I turned the envelope upside down and twenty more pictures fell out onto the table. I didn't give him time to say anything.

"What was I doing wrong, Paul? Look at the one of Ann giving you a blowjob. Is she better at that than I am? Here's one of you in a sixty-nine. Does she taste better than I do?

"Here, check them all out. I've got several of you and Beth over in East City. Here's some of you and Connie in South City. Oh, and let's not forget Dee Ann in West City. It looks to me like you're fucking a lot of unfaithful bitches. Well? I think it's your turn to explain now. What have you got to say for yourself?"

"I don't have to explain a damn thing! I'm the man of this house, damn it! It's a man's nature to want a little variety once in a while. It's the woman's place to stay home and be faithful for her man. You're the one that invited other men into our home! You're the one that defiled our marriage bed! You're the ..."

"You just stop right there, Paul! Not once did I have sex with any of them in our marriage bed. It may have been everywhere else in the house, but not there."

"You still don't get it, do you? You're married to me! That means that you belong to me, and me only. To put it in terms that your dumb blonde little head just might understand; you don't fuck anybody but me, period!"

"Oh, so what you're telling me is that I can't fuck anyone else, but it's okay for you to sleep with other unfaithful women when you're out of town. Have I got it right, now?"

"Exactly!"

"I don't understand. If I have to remain faithful, then why don't you?"

"That's different. I'm the man of this house. You will do as I say, and I will do as I want. That's a man's right."

"Well, Paul, I won't agree to that. If you can sleep with other women, then I'm going to sleep with other men."

"Damn, Gail, you keep talking like you're going to be living in this house tomorrow. Get it through your dumb blonde head that we're through, period. You're moving out today."

"I don't think so, Paul. If anyone leaves today, it will be you. I have put up with your insults and humiliation for our entire marriage. I realized that you were working under a lot of pressure at work and if letting you make fun of me helped you to deal with it, then I was willing to do it. I love you, and I will do anything for you. I watched you flirt with other women when we went out dancing, but that made no difference to me because I loved you.

"You made no secret about having experienced several women before you met me. You've even bragged about it to other guys in my presence. I didn't care because I loved you. I knew about you sleeping with Ann the first week after we got back from our honeymoon. That hurt me real bad, but I loved you. I almost lost my mind when I found out that you were sleeping with a different woman every Thursday night, but my love for you gave me strength. I was sure that you would get tired of them, but you didn't. Then you scared me. You wanted us to start having kids.

"The first issue was that you have been with a lot of different women. I had never been with anyone but you. The second issue was wondering what kind of a father you would be. I decided to take care of both issues at the same time.

"I carefully chose four men to have sex with. All of them have made it known that with a few changes on your part, we would be welcome in their little group. I was honest with them. I told them that you were the only man I had ever been with, and that I wanted to know what it would be like to have sex with someone else. I also told them I was going to fix it so that you would find out about it. Each of their wives was present when I made my offer, and they agreed to it.

"It wasn't revenge sex, Paul. I felt that in order to understand you better, I should do as you were doing. You know, walk a mile in your shoes, so to speak. You were seeing other women, and I wanted to know what it would be like to be with other men. Did I enjoy it? Yes, I did, very much so. Were they any better than you? No, just different. However, you're the one I love. It's you I want in my bed, just you.

"By the way, Paul, how did you like my little performance yesterday? I tried my very best to be the perfect little dumb blonde that you so love to humiliate and make fun of. Do you know what really hurts, Paul? In spite of the way you treat me, in spite of the other women, in spite of several other problems we haven't talked about yet, I still love you.

"Now, I'm going to deal with the second issue. There have to be some changes made if we are going to have kids. Paul, I want you to know that I still love you dearly. That being said, you now have to choose one of four options.

"Option one. We start having an open marriage. There is a swing group of about 25 couples that I know about. They have a large party once a month and most of them get together in smaller groups several times a month. They freely have dates with each other's spouses. No one dates anyone outside of the group. If you really have to have a variety of women, a club with 25 available females in it should be enough for you. You just remember that there will be 25 available males for me to play with.

"One of the couples owns a clinic that deals with sexual infections and diseases. New couples have to go through a six month screening process. That means you are tested once a month for six months. The testing continues on a monthly basis for as long as you are members. If you are caught dating someone outside of the group, you are discharged from the group immediately. They will occasionally make an exception but it has to be voted on by the whole group. They made one for me, but I had to be examined and tested by the doctors at their clinic.

"Option two. We continue like we are. You sneak around with other women, and I will sneak around with other men. It will be just like in the military, we won't ask, and we won't tell.

"Option three. We forgive each other for all past indiscretions, and start living as a married couple should. To put it in your language, you won't fuck anyone but me, and I won't fuck anyone but you. This is the option that I hope with all of my heart you choose. With this option, we can start a family.

"Option four. We get a divorce. We split everything down the middle. You go your way, and I'll go my way.

"Well, what's it going to be, Paul?"

Paul just sat there, staring at something on the wall behind me. I never have been very good at reading people's faces or guessing what they were thinking. Oh, God, please let him choose me, and the family that we can have. I do love him so much.

"Are you through blabbering now? If you are, pack your shit and get out."

So, I have lost him. He couldn't have hurt me more if he had stuck a knife in me and twisted it. My love wasn't strong enough to hold him. I would be divorced and lonely now. I've done everything I can think of to prove that I can be any type of woman he wants. If I had only done something different, but what? All that was left now was to salvage as much as possible.

"Paul, it is you that will be leaving. Pack your clothes and leave, please."

"You're not only dumb, you're crazy! So what if you have a few pictures. I've got pictures, too. The worst the court would do is split everything 50/50. If you take this to court, I'll make life as miserable as possible for you. I'll even have someone post all of your pictures on the web. You pack and leave!"

Now he threatens me? He's going to post pictures and make my life miserable? Okay, I was prepared for that, too. The 50/50 split is off. He leaves with nothing!

"What pictures do you have, Paul? Where are they at? I don't see any pictures."

"I thought I told you. This man here is Max Cook, my private investigator. He has all of the evidence I need."

I looked closely at Max Cook. The corners of his mouth were turning up into a smirk. He had patiently sat there and given us time to work things out. Now that we were past that, he looked like he was going to enjoy what was about to happen very much. I looked him right in the eyes, and asked:

"Uncle Bob, what pictures is Paul talking about? Do you really have any pictures?"

Paul's head snapped from whatever it was he was looking at on the wall behind me and looked first at Max and then at me.

"Who in the hell is Uncle Bob? This is Max Cook, my investigator."

"Paul, let me introduce you to Robert Maxwell Cook, my mother's brother. He has always been Uncle Bob to me. He checked you out very carefully before we were married. He told me about all of your women, but I didn't care because I loved you. I was sure you would be faithful once we were married. He told me about your Thursday nights away from home, but I loved you. I thought you would eventually change.

"Uncle Bob has really helped me. He recommended one of his lawyer friends to you. You have no divorce papers. You are the dumb blond around here. How do you think he managed to get in this house and change videotapes on Friday afternoons with me here? I would change them as soon as my lover left. That gave Uncle Bob more time to prepare them for you.

"I can assure you that the only pictures Uncle Bob has are of you and your married girlfriends. Oh, yes! Let's not forget your friend that owns the bar. That's where you stayed last night, and I can prove it. Uncle Bob wired the poker room and her bedroom over three years ago. I've got pictures of you and her, too. You must really be desperate for variety, because she's at least twenty years older than you are. Did you know that she has four whores working for her on the third floor above the bar? I should warn you that she has had more than ninety different lovers over the past three years.

"I'm very lucky that you didn't bring home some nasty disease from her. Thankfully, she makes her lovers use condoms. You have no idea of how many times I've gone to the clinic to have myself checked, just to be safe. That's how I found out about the swing club. The doctor thought that I was the one sleeping with other men and cheating on you. I finally broke down and told him about you. That's when he made the offer for us to join the club. After talking with him, that's when I got the idea of finding out what it would be like to have sex with other men. He helped me pick my partners and made arrangements for me to meet them and their wives.

"Now, pack your clothes and get out. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready to go."

"Like hell you well! I'm taking my truck, my motorcycle, and my boat. I'll make you sell the house and I'll get half of that."

"Paul, you've earned $48,000 per year for the three years we've been married. That's a total of $144,000 dollars. It was my money that made the down payment on this house. It is my money that has made most of the mortgage payments. I'm the one that paid for your truck, motorcycle, and boat. I've even had to buy most of the food we eat.

"Most of your money has gone to the Saturday night poker games in the back room of the bar. Why do you think that whore that owns the bar was sleeping with you for free? The game is rigged. She has taken you for over $45,000 dollars in the past three years. You not only gambled most of your paycheck away, you lost some of mine as well.

"My writing earned $32,000 the first year we were married. I earned over $48,000 the second year and almost $64,000 the third year. Two of my romance novels are in the bookstores right now. My third novel is being published this month. My freelance days are about over, but I'm still doing articles and short stories for several magazines. I tried several times to tell you how well I was doing with my writing, but you were never interested. All you would do is make fun of your dumb blonde wife that used whiteout on the computer screen when she made a spelling error. We would have been bankrupt the first year if it hadn't been for your dumb blonde wife and her income.

"If you really want to go to court, that's fine with me. The husbands of your girlfriends will find out about you. Your gambling, the crooked card game, and the whorehouse above the bar will all be made public. The police and the district attorney will love it. The husbands will beat you to within an inch of your life, and the bar owner will probably finish the job.

"Uncle Bob, hand him the divorce papers from my attorney, the one's in the brown envelope. Paul, those papers say that you get nothing. There is also a restraining order against you in there. Now pack your damn clothes and get out!"

It didn't take long for him to pack. Uncle Bob called a taxi, and Paul walked out of my life. He didn't even say goodbye. It tore me apart to see him go. I guess he was right all along. I was a dumb blonde. I really did love him, in spite of his faults.