Just Once... At the Ambassador

Not long ago, I published a sequel to a scenario set up by the author, Kalimaxos in his story 'Just once... If you don't mind'. He invited other authors to provide an ending. Like the sucker that I am, I did.

Even by Loving Wives' standards, the feedback was overheated to say the least. Some thought the main character was too restrained; others, that he should have reflected, acknowledged his guilt and tried to reconcile. Still others kindly pointed out that I was probably not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

ln response, I have decided to wind in my first inclination to go full BTB (and the retribution in my version was mild compared to some) and produce a more thoughtful and considered tale based on the way that I think real people would have acted. This version, I can almost guarantee, will piss everyone off. But then, I like balance.

In order for this story to make any sense at all, you must read the original first for the background and the cliff-hanger ending.

Most sequels begin with the letter that Rick, our main character, has just been given by Leslie his neighbour. This version begins six weeks later and is Marcy's account.

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Marcy

I felt nauseous on the flight back from South America. Don't get me wrong, we'd done a lot of good work, providing a surgical team to support the Doctors Without Borders' work in five different countries. It was my welcome home that concerned me.

I'd been honest with Rick why I'd gone, and about my intention to be unfaithful. I thought that I had been more than fair, though, in arranging for our neighbour, the lovely Leslie, to be available, sexually, in the six weeks I'd be away sharing Trey's bed. I was disappointed that she never contacted me, because we'd agreed she would when she'd first slept with Rick. In fact, when I tried to get hold of her, all my calls went to voicemail.

But, I knew that Rick was attracted to her, so the chances of him turning down a babe like that, who even had a husband encouraging her to sleep around, were slim to none. And this way he had no incentive to go sniffing around that smug whore, Deirdre, who I was certain he'd been banging for years.

Still, he was a proud man and he was understandably angry when he finally tracked me down in Trey's bedroom on our third day away. If Leslie had given him my fucking note the day I left, he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of ringing Penny to find out where I was. I prayed he hadn't told Josh that she had Graeme in her room when he spoke to her. She's planning to start a family next year.

Trey's attitude didn't help either. He knew Rick had served. Why did he have to act so superior to a man who piloted a fucking Apache Gunship in combat? Talk about poking the damn bear!

Anyway, I'd asked Rick not to make a scene at the airport and I hoped he'd be reasonable. If he was waiting for me at the Ambassador Hotel, as I had suggested, he could have me served and walk away or we could show each other our STD test results and reconnect in the room I'd booked all those weeks previously, and then we could enjoy the rest of our lives together.

Regardless, however nauseous I felt on the plane home was nothing compared to the roiling in my stomach as I left baggage claim and entered the Arrivals Hall. I looked round. Thank God! Rick wasn't there. I said farewell to my friends and colleagues and caught a cab to the hotel; I would have shared a ride with Penny otherwise.

Walking into the hotel lobby was possibly the most nerve wracking experience though. Would Rick be there? Would he have me served with divorce papers instead? The reality was neither happened. Did that mean he had taken the other option that I'd given him, and just walked away without a word l? I had hoped that he loved me more than that.

Just to be sure, I made my way to the desk and gave my name to the girl on reception. "Are there any messages for me?" I asked, more in hope than expectation.

She smiled at me. "No, your husband just collected his key a couple of hours ago and went straight up. Would you like me to call your room?"

I brightened. "No. I'll join him; I feel as though I've been travelling for days."

She smiled again as she prepared a key card for me and, wishing me a good day, she moved on to her next guest.

When I opened the door and walked in, calling his name, I was surprised to find him already laid in bed. I knew that I'd asked him to abstain from sex for the last week, while we waited for our STD tests to prove we were clean after our time-out, but this seemed a little over-enthusiastic, especially as he'd had a free pass with Leslie for over a month.

Then I heard a noise from the bathroom. "You're not alone," I blurted out, hurt. "This was supposed to be our time. A chance to reconnect and put this behind us. Why is SHE," I meant Leslie of course, "in our room?"

"And hello to you too, Marcy." His voice dripped with sarcasm. This was not going to plan. "Well," he continued when I didn't respond. "Funny story: your sex adventure seemed to be all nicely packaged and ready to start six weeks ago, for you at least. But, from my point of view, by the time Leslie decided to give me your note I'd actually only just found out my wife was a cheating whore and had received a belly-full of attitude both from you and that oily wife-stealing bastard I'd already warned you about." He held his hand up to stay my reply.

He frowned. "Just FYI. There are three groups of people you should never fuck about with; family, friends and foes." He looked at me to see if I was following. "The first two are obvious; they are about betrayal by both parties. That must hurt. The last is, perhaps by some measures, even worse. That fucking moron who spent the last six weeks sticking his dick in you, thinks he's a fucking Alpha because everyone around him treats him like his shit don't stink. But I think he's a puffed up little narcissist, and he knows it. You made yourself the trophy in our dick swinging contest and, by bedding him and not me, he won. My wife got to choose between him and me, and she preferred him. That really stung."

"No!, I protested. "I just wanted a break and he was there and willing. I agree, he's an asshole, and I just used him like a meat dildo. He's nothing to me. But Leslie." I nodded towards the bathroom door then turned back to Rick. "We had an understanding. It was five weeks and then we both abstained."

He looked confused for a moment. Then his face cleared. "Oh no; Leslie waited for me to approach her for those three days, before she came on to me, because you lied to her." He pointed accusingly at me. "You had told her that we'd spoken about her and that I was on board. When I showed her the note she'd finally brought over when I still hadn't make a move on her, she was upset. She called Vincent and he realised why I had seemed to be so nonchalant when we'd passed in the street. It was because I had been clueless. They were both so angry at the way you used lies to involve them in your scheme, especially as you acknowledged that it could lead to us divorcing, that he withdrew his consent. They had no interest in breaking up our marriage. Leslie would be humiliated to be dragged into our divorce. I've barely even spoken to them since."

Now I was confused: then she spoke. "Hi Marcy. You're earlier than we expected." No! I couldn't have heard HER voice behind me. Please God, not her: anyone but her!

Rick looked past me and smiled. "All done? Okay honey. See you later; about six?" I turned to see her; Deirdre, stunning in a short black dress, bare skin still glowing from her shower and, undoubtedly, sex.

I stood in anguished silence as she collected her things, blew a kiss towards my husband and left.

I finally found my voice. "Why Rick? Why her?" I choked out in horror.

"We had unfinished business," he explained calmly. "You had convinced yourself that she and I had been lovers and this six week affair of yours was your payback." He shifted in his bed. "I admit there was one occasion where we overstepped, badly." He looked pensive. "If I'd confessed then, perhaps, we might not have ended this way, But I'd been warned that you appeared to be having an affair too so, rather than trigger the end of our marriage, I tried to bury my feelings and never stray again."

He looked me straight in the eyes. "I never fucked Deirdre and we never slept together. So when you gave yourself a six week pass for me doing just that; well, I thought, shit! If I'm paying the penance, I may as well commit the sin."

My heart sank. I knew to the bottom of my soul, he was telling the truth. "But here, now," I protested. "Even if you're telling the truth, it should be over."

He looked quizzically at me. "Why? You'd been fucking Trey in Bogota for three days, refusing my calls, before I even had a clue what your plan was." He shook his head. "You'd told me that we were both free but then insulted me by trying to set me up in a situation that YOU could control while you fucked a guy that I loathed." He looked at me then so coldly. "And you also insulted me by expecting me to accept a six week pass when you had admitted that you'd already given Trey an advance taste of what to expect while you were away. As far as I'm concerned, your betrayal began the minute you decided to use Leslie as a manageable, acceptable, surrogate cunt. And those were her parting words, not mine."

My world was falling apart. I'd just driven him to do the very thing I was paying him back for. I tried to regain control. "But the final week, Rick. We were supposed to abstain. To prove we were clean."

He laughed. "I told you, I started at least three days behind you, even ignoring that you admit you began your tawdry little affair before you left. It took me another week to contact Deirdre and persuade her to join me and then wait for our first test results. Deirdre and I are only part way through week four so, even by your own twisted logic, you are still married and I'm free for over two more weeks. Oh, and by the way, if you really expect me to believe that you and the asshole didn't touch each other once in the last week, then you are even more fucking deluded than I thought."

He must have seen me react. "Thought so," was all he said.

"You told her, Deirdre, you said you'd see her later," I said quietly, my anger turning to resignation.

"That's right," he agreed. "We're flying out tonight. I can't see any point in paying for a room in an hotel so close to home, and I'm not stupid or insensitive enough to keep screwing Deirdre at our house, so we thought we'd spend a couple of weeks together on a beach."

I replayed his words. "What do you mean, 'Keep screwing'? Where have you...? Oh! God no! Not that! Please tell me, not in our bed!"

This time I was sure that his puzzled expression was genuine. "What? It was okay to fuck Leslie in our bed because you chose her, but you expected me to take Deirdre to a cheap motel to spare your feelings? Really?" This was the angriest I'd seen him. "You dare to stand there after your cowardly note telling me you regarded yourself as single, and then complain about me taking one woman of my own choice to my own bed? Listen bitch," he snarled. I recoiled instinctively. "While I was waiting for Deirdre to join me, all I could imagine was you whoring your way around South America, taking dick after dick in every hole: You and Penny taking turns; that was the picture you left me with."

I started to weep. "Penny, please tell me..."

He interrupted me. "Of course I fucking told Josh!" He spat the words out. "Look at your own reprisals for what you only imagined I had done. I knew for certain what Penny was doing. Why is it okay for you to retaliate but not him? Josh deserved to know what I knew. Think on this, wife." His voice dripped venom. "If you'd had the decency to take my calls, to speak to me, your husband, when I first tried to get hold of you, I would never have known, and nor would he."

He stood and moved to the bathroom. I saw his flaccid cock and was certain that I could still see the dried residues of their fucking along its length. I stayed rooted to the spot I'd stopped in when I'd first entered the room. I remembered him once spouting one of his trite military sayings, "No plan of operations extends with any certainty beyond the first encounter with the main enemy forces."

He had pulled me up, when I mocked it, by pointing out that the enemy almost certainly had a plan too; and it definitely ran counter to yours.

My plan, Trey, Leslie and then reconciliation here, in this very room, was in tatters. If I'd confronted him after Deirdre's visit we could have talked, even if we'd argued, or fought. But to plan an ambush? Against a professional soldier? How stupid had I been? I fled before he left the bathroom.

Epilogue.

Rick had blocked me on his phone, so I had no contact with him for over two weeks after I ran. Then he called me from Deirdre's apartment. He had two questions. Did I believe, now that we had both experienced the betrayal of a spouse cheating with someone we despised, that there was a chance of us recapturing the marriage and retirement together that I spoke of so fondly in my note?

And did I believe he would sit there, happily, in his twilight years, looking lovingly at me, his tarnished silver plated trophy wife? His prize for second place? His willingly soiled goods? His scraps from the rich surgeon's table?

I filed for divorce the next day. We haven't spoken since.

The kids were appalled at my behaviour and still barely call. Our few conversations are terse, at best, when they do. I've not actually seen either of them since I got back. Rick showed them my letter, of course. He wouldn't let me off the hook that easily.

Leslie and Vincent ignore me and I'm becoming aware that I'm being progressively excluded from neighborhood get-togethers as my notoriety spreads. I'll probably have to move to somewhere smaller soon anyway when the house sells; preferably somewhere closer to the hospital.

Penny, once my friend, hasn't spoken to me since she was served at the airport. Rick was right; I stood by and applauded when she did precisely what I accused him of. Yet I was angry at Rick for telling her husband.

What happened to Trey? He was insufferably smug for a few weeks, then he started to get anxious, then paranoid. He was convinced that Rick had recruited some army buddies to follow him with the intention of hurting him. I tried to persuade him that it was just his imagination, though Rick certainly knew people who could do just that. His conviction became more certain, though I never noticed anyone. His anxiety even started to affect his work.

About three months after our return, we were eating lunch together as I tried to convince him yet again that my husband had no interest in him, and wasn't that vindictive a man. A young resident at the next table leaned across and apologised for eavesdropping. Her words ended Trey's time at the hospital. "Excuse me for interrupting but wasn't your husband's job to hover an attack helicopter in a war zone and fire cannon shells and rockets into enemy held buildings, in order to kill or maim as many of them as he could?"

Trey left that evening and didn't return. I found out a few months later that she was a reservist. I don't know to this day whether Rick put her up to it, or if it was just loyalty to one of her own that made her intervene.

I honestly don't think Rick was involved. He knew Trey didn't actually steal me; I gave myself away, to make a point, to even the score. If it hadn't been Trey it would have been someone else; why would Rick waste his time on a futile token revenge? He's got Deirdre now; he's okay.

"I took care of him in Iraq," Deirdre had said to me. And those few words triggered me to do the most stupid and thoughtless thing I could imagine. She was my Trey, the enemy, a person I despised. Because of my jealousy I gave my husband another chance to choose between her and me but this time I lost. Fuck! She'd played me and won.

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So, dear reader, my apologies. What a let down. No-one was crippled, no grand gestures, just a weary response to a vindictive act that ended a zombie marriage.