It's Only Acting - The Conclusion

She didn't look like she believed me. Funny thing, trust is.

"You're leaving on a Saturday?" she asked suspiciously. "I can't remember that ever happening before."

"You're right, baby," I said. "I can't remember a time that they asked me to come on the weekend. I suppose they may want to wine and dine me, and I know for sure we have a meeting on Monday morning. Sorry, I forgot."

Kelly looked stressed the rest of the day. She was fighting an inner battle to stay clear of me while wanting to salve her curiosity. I packed a bag, and my toiletries, and kissed my wife goodbye. A long deep kiss, intended to show my love and remorse, a promise to see her Tuesday night and that I'd call if she wanted.

When I pulled out of my street I called Sarah. She seemed pretty excited and told me to come over straight away. We talked about what had happened, and she helped get me set up in her spare bedroom. When she got home from the theatre that night, she wasted no time trying to seduce me.

"I like you, Sarah," I began in a serious tone. "Listen, I may even have started developing some feelings for you. I'm not sure if it's the same for you, or if this is just casual, but I'm not in a position to act on it. I'm still married, with plenty on my mind. I'm also a married bloke who may have gotten an STD from my wife, and I certainly don't want to pass it on to you."

Sarah smiled, even though I could see the disappointment behind her eyes. "I know, and I get it," she said. "I do like you, too. I feel bad for what you're going through."

"Okay," I told her, "then that's a start. Let's get to know each other. Enjoy each other's company, and then see how that goes. I still have to get some evidence, and I still have to figure out how to cohabitate with my wife for at least two more weeks. I'll get my test results on Tuesday. I'd love to get to know you better if you're interested in that."

Sarah played it close to the cuff. I could tell she was raring to go and wanted sex with me. I had been honest at least, and the last thing I wanted was to jump into something prematurely or on a rebound. That wouldn't bode well for a future relationship with Sarah if that was even in the cards.

Jonathan called me Sunday night, right after the show ended. He was anxious to get me up to date on his activities.

"I've been in the fifth row," he exclaimed, "about where you sat." He'd explained at our meeting that he could film from there with a telescopic lens because the actors would have a hard time seeing him with the stage lights. The hard part would be during the strip tease scene when the stage lights dimmed.

"Kelly and Bedford have been randy, but not done the deed... that is until tonight. I have to go through my film, but I'm quite positive that I have proof of penetration. Sorry, mate."

We talked about my cover story, and Jonathan offered to scope out our home on Monday and Tuesday night, just in case.

"I feel like I should hire a private dick," I said. "You know, to make it legit."

"No way!" he replied. "I'll save you the money. You'd be helping me too. If I can get proof outside the theatre it will provide more credence to my story."

Tuesday morning was a double whammy for me, and the end of my marriage. The doctor's office called and told me I had a mild case of chlamydia. The office nurse provided a prescription, and as per law, I had to tell her whom I'd had sex with. I don't think she believed me when I told her, 'just my wife.'

Jonathan called several minutes after the first call.

"I'm sorry to keep bearing bad news for you," he told me sincerely. "They didn't have sex on stage Sunday. They didn't get together afterward either. But last night, Kingsley arrived around eight in the evening, and he spent the night. I didn't try to sneak around your home and get pictures of the bastard giving it to the wife, but I do have a photo from your front porch when he arrived. Kelly gave him a big sloppy kiss in the doorway."

"Alright, I guess," I replied somberly. "Then that's enough. Are you going to continue going to the show?"

"Yes," he stated. "I'd like to catch a few more performances where they knock off. Sorry, bloody hell."

Tuesday I came home a few hours early. Kelly was excited to see me until she saw my face.

"What's wrong, baby?" She asked very concerned. "You look like shit."

"Yeah," I said, purposefully trying to hold back my rage. "That's the thing. You and your lover gave me Chlamydia. I'm on meds that I just picked up. I had to tell them who I got it from, so you should be expecting a call very soon."

Kelly looked shocked, and then she looked like she didn't believe me. "That's impossible," she murmured. "He was only inside me the once."

"Well," I said sarcastically, "twice - by your own admission."

She had at least enough character to look away. I told her I'd already booked a room for the next few nights. Kelly became frantic at hearing that.

"No, baby," she cried out. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I could have never imagined. Please don't go. We need to talk about this. Leaving won't solve anything."

"It will for me," I said sternly. "I can't be around you right now."

"Why?" she asked with a sideways tilt of her head. "That bastard infected me too. We're both victims in this."

"No, Kelly," I told her, "you're the victim. I'm just collateral damage." I picked up an empty glass from the sink and threw it against the kitchen wall for effect. Kelly had never seen me act out in anger.

"Damn, you!" I screamed. Then I left - probably for the last time.

Sarah was surprised to see me when she walked in from a night out with friends. I brought her up to speed on what had transpired. She came over and hugged me. That simple act caused the waterworks from me, quite unexpectedly. Sarah held me tight for a long time. Then she giggled, and I pulled back to see what could be funny.

"It's a good thing we didn't shag!" she said, now laughing.

On Thursday, Sarah came home excited to tell me about her night. It seemed the mood on stage that afternoon was subdued. Kelly and Bedford barely said two words to each other.

They did their run-through, with both in their underwear. I found it odd that they were still rehearsing what with doing a show five nights per week. The director was yelling at everyone. The producer was pissed. He asked Sarah to go to the local convenience/ petrol station and had her buy one box of every kind of condom they had. She felt like they were trying to find the thinnest and most transparent rubber they could.

So the director wasn't willing to back off the realism, and neither was my wife and her lover, even with VD plaguing them. The show must go on, I supposed.

That night, I slept in bed with Sarah. We both wore sleeping clothes. I absolutely needed the cuddle. I spent the weekend at Sarah's home, and she had it planned like I was a close relative from some other country. By the time Sarah had to go to the theatre on Saturday, I felt like a right-fit tourist.

Kelly started calling and texting on Sunday. That was exactly two weeks from the closing night. A night I planned to fully impact, and possibly put a stop to, altogether. She wanted to meet on Monday or Tuesday so we could talk. She wanted us to get everything out into the open so that I would move back home, and so we could start getting past the play, and I guess the STD. She wanted to hit the ground running once the program ended. Fat bloody chance of that.

Kelly and I met at the predetermined time on Tuesday afternoon. She looked frazzled, and I kept practicing my acting career, being casual and carefree. At first, my wife mistook this as a sign I'd open to moving home. She began talking a mile-a-minute about all the things she'd done - and not done - at the theatre. She told me how mad she'd gotten about the STD, and what she'd told the director and Kingsley. How things were going to go the way she wanted from now on until the play ended, or else. It was clear to me that she was making things up as she went along. I knew she was full of shit.

Finally, she wanted to know when I would move home. That look of hers wasn't full of anticipation, but more like she was giving me a warning or ultimatum. I was unmoved.

"I'm not sure, Kelly," I told her matter-of-factly. I leaned forward on my elbows in a more aggressive posture. "I'm pretty sure this three-book deal is going through. I've been using the extra time alone and my fucked up feelings about all this to get a head start. I'm plowing through my outlines at a pretty good clip. I think we should wait until after the production ends before we make any decisions."

Kelly also leaned forward. The look on her face was so easy to spot. For the first time, I finally realized how Kelly had been manipulating me, and for the last several years. Her expression, her posture, was so familiar, I could almost mimic what was coming next. She really did mistake my kindness for weakness. That very rapidly angered me.

"Don't, Kelly," I warned her. "This isn't a negotiation. I'm working. I'm doing this for me - maybe even for us - if we can rebound from this fucking play."

Kelly sat stunned. I wasn't sure if it was my words, or that I'd just shut her down. Then a flash of brilliance crossed her face.

"You aren't fucking someone else?" she inquired with a sharp edge. "Are you?"

"Piss off, Kelly," I told her. "Don't be a fucking twit. Wait a tick - that might not be a bad idea. But I'm still married, so if I decide that's the best way to get over this, I'll make sure you know exactly what I'm up to. That would only be fair."

Our conversation disintegrated from there. Kelly called me a few names. I smiled - or smirked back - and told her she wasn't helping herself. I finally suggested that we stop, before one of us said something that couldn't be undone. I calmly reiterated that I wasn't screwing someone else. And finally, I told her, she should do some soul-searching before the next time we saw each other. She didn't like being told anything but caught herself several times before going off on me. I tossed some money on the table and told her I'd be in touch. I felt pretty good about myself, and where this was ultimately going to end up.

The next ten days flew by.

Kelly occasionally called, or texted - she was mostly checking in with me. I'd decided she'd finally figured out that our marriage was in trouble and she was no longer in charge. I'd had my attorney finalize the divorce documents. One set was set up as 'irreconcilable differences.' The other was for adultery and included the photos Jonathan had been taking all month. I also had the attorney prepare a suit against the performance company, and the director himself. I never bothered to read that document because I knew, as did my solicitor, it would never grow legs. It was designed for maximum exposure and embarrassment.

Sarah and I grew closer over that time, but I was of the mind that a rebound relationship wasn't going to work for me. She would occasionally catch a glimpse of my indifference, and I knew it saddened her. She never brought it up though.

I'd called Kelly's parents and made a big deal out of getting tickets for the Friday before closing night. When I called her brother, Nigel, to invite him and his wife, Nigel asked if they could bring their teenage daughters. I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my coffee. I told him gently, that the play was for adults only.

Jonathan and I had lunch one more time on the Monday of the closing week, so we could compare notes. Kelly hadn't had sex with Bedford every time they performed, but even as late as the previous night, she'd allowed him to 'accidentally slip into her vagina.' Damned slag, I thought.

"Peter," he said more somberly. "I'll need you to read this report if I'm to publish it on Friday at midnight. I've found some other things - going back into her past. I need you to know so there aren't any hard feelings."

"No thanks," I told Jonathan. "Just tell me. I don't need any more gory details."

"Okay," he sighed. "I found pictures of them, six months before the first ones, at some gala. They were dancing, and I have one of them in a very sensuous - sorry - embrace. They were kissing."

"It's your story, Jonathan," I said with apathy. "After she brought him into our home, that was the end of that. What she did in the past is only icing on the cake. Just promise me you're going for maximum pain."

Kelly called me on Wednesday, to ask me to dinner. I thought about continuing to perfect my acting skills, but there was no real point. I told her I wasn't trying to be a bastard, but I was on a roll to get three outlines prepared for the publisher.

She told me she expected - then she changed her verbiage to hoped - I'd come back home on Sunday night at the latest, so we could start getting back on track. I told her I forgot to take my pills a few days in a row, so even if I did come home, we wouldn't be having sex until my doctor gave the all-clear.

Sarah told me that Thursday night, all the happiness had been zapped out of the company, actors and crew alike, and everyone was anxious for the show to end. They had no idea.

The lady at the bank gave me a sorrowful look, as she helped me cash out sixty-five percent of our checking and savings account. It was almost a foregone conclusion that Kelly had at least one 'nest egg' account from her brokerage days, hence the sixty-five. I'd guessed the young woman had dealt with that sort of thing before.

She was speaking to my back, offering some trinkets and special offers if I'd only open my new account with them.

It was a good start to a Friday morning and a weekend that was sure to create uproar.

Friday night, I waited at the box office for all my guests which included Kelly's parents, her brother and sister-in-law, and two friends from her work. I'd sworn them all to secrecy under the guise of a surprise.

We hit the bar, and I made a big deal of buying all their drinks. I was pretty sure they were going to need them. Just as the house lights flickered, I ushered them to the fifth row, and sat in the closest aisle set, near her friends. I certainly didn't want to be seated near her family when the strip scene began.

When Kingsley/ Bedford began diddling Kelly's pussy on their stage bed, I saw Kelly's father looking like he was going to kill... somebody. That somebody could have included me. Shock and awe followed as my wife's friends and family heard her groaning through an orgasm, with some bloke they'd never met, laying atop her naked form, and rutting between her legs.

All of them turned to me in unison. I simply shrugged. Kelly's dad took her mum by the hand and escorted her out, and up the aisle while the happy couple were sitting and doing their monologue at the end. The look he gave me, told me he wasn't leaving the building without an explanation. Her friends gave me the stink eye, seemingly having figured out what I'd done. I leaned in close to the friend who sat next to me, and told her Kelly had been shagging this guy behind my back for a long time. We'd see how long it took for that revelation to get around the office. Her sibling and his wife didn't seem to know what to think.

When I got to the lobby, Kelly's father was right there where I expected him to be.

"Why would you put my wife through that?" he asked, rage boiling over.

"Because," I replied quickly, "I needed you all to see that with your own eyes. I'm not going to be made the bad guy, or played as the fool, later on. You'll understand when you read tomorrow's Gazette."

With that, I walked away. It was highly likely I'd never see my in-laws again.

I was barely into my new apartment door when my phone started blowing up, all calls from Kelly. I let them go to voicemail, and finally, after ten minutes, I received the first of many texts:

What the hell were you thinking inviting them here? My mother is heartbroken. My dad is royally pissed. Call me!

The only thing I texted to her said to read tomorrow's Gazette, and then I turned off my phone.

I was going to spend an uninterrupted night catching up on some much-needed sleep. The next day would be hard, but it would also be the first day of my new life.

Epilogue:

The shit did indeed hit the fan on Saturday morning. I sat in my new place - one Kelly had no idea about, sipping my tea and reading the Gazette.

The story told the sordid tale of my wife, Kelly, and her antics with Miles Bedford, going back at least five years. The best part, to me, was that Jonathan left a lot to the imagination. The court of public opinion, was in the end, the very best medicine we could force down Kelly's throat.

Jonathan went from a few pictures and some obvious speculation, to iron-clad facts about the play. How often they had boinked, the little tender touches and caresses on stage before the show. Anyone who read the piece would see Kelly as a self-centered cheating bitch.

The company and the director were demonized as well. It was implied that because Miles and the director were Kelly's customers at the brokerage, they may have been a 'party of three.' In any event, there would be a public outcry in our medium-sized community, because people were actually shagging on stage.

When I turned my phone back on, I saw not one new text or voicemail from my wayward wife. That meant I wasn't as good an actor as I'd thought, or she was too busy fielding questions and accusations.

I spoke to Sarah in the early afternoon. She was so sweet, asking if I was going to be alright. I told her my mind had been made up much earlier, and I couldn't wait to spend some time with her after all this was over.

Kelly was served with a divorce petition in her dressing room, just half an hour before act one.

The director was also served at the same time. Needless to say, Saturday night's show was a bust. There were many forgotten lines and problems with the lighting. In the only scene that came naturally for my wife and Miles Bedford, some of the audience had brought rotten fruit and veggies to toss at them during their lovemaking.

Sunday night's performance - closing night - was canceled. All the ticket holders would need to be refunded.

Kelly called me early Sunday, crying. I took the call, and not because I was some stellar guy either. I needed to get the whole sordid thing over with. She wanted to meet me on Monday morning at our favorite little breakfast café.

My soon-to-be ex-wife didn't stand to greet me when I arrived, so I just sat down, with my coffee. She wouldn't even look at me for several seconds, and then sheepishly made eye contact.

"Why?" she asked, trying to control her voice. "Why do all this? Please, come home and let me explain. We can get past this."

I held back a chuckle. "Really?" I answered with a question. "Please, explain how we do that."

"Well, first," she sat up taller. "I love you. That's never changed. What I did - before - with him, had nothing to do with my feelings for you. I never took anything away from you. In fact, I only provided you with more... of everything. I know how it sounds, but honestly, I gave you even more of myself, just like during the play."

Kelly, come on," I replied with a smirk she hated. "Maybe you can claim that, as long as your stupid husband never found out. Having it off with him and then coming home to your cuckold, offering me the wet deck in reward, or to salve your guilty feelings. Fine. That only works, love, until I find out. Hear me good; once it's all out from below the sheet, men don't take kindly to being stripped of their pride, or their respect. That's when the consequences start racking up."

Kelly knew me well after all these years of marriage. She changed tactics, as she changed her posture.