Just Once… Damaging Choices!

Author's Note: The author, Kalimaxos wrote the open-ended story "JUST ONCE... IF YOU DON'T MIND?" in April 2021 about an unfaithful wife, giving herself a hall-pass for a six-week fling. She expected her long-time husband to understand and be there for her when she returned, saying she would meet him in a hotel two hours after her flight landed. The author invited others to write their versions of a sequel or ending.

After several of my own discussions with other authors a few months later about women's attitudes and their "agency" to make their own sexual choices (apparently some believe without consequences), I was recently inspired by another sequel for Kalimaxos' story for my own sequel.

I don't usually like "Reconcile At All Costs" or "Burn The Bitch" stories. But this time, I decided to write "all of the above". So, this story has five endings for you to choose the one you prefer.

This is just my version of a husband's reaction, and I recommend you first read the original story "JUST ONCE... IF YOU DON'T MIND?" (link provided), as the letter in this sequel parallels the one written by the wife in that first story.

***

Prologue (from the original story)

My wife, Marcy left for her six-week deployment with the hospital team just a few days earlier, without even saying goodbye to me. After she ignored several of my text messages for the first days away, I finally tracked her down. It took me talking to her friend, Penny Washington in her same hotel and threatening to call Penny's husband, Josh about the male voice I heard in the background before Penny finally transferred my call to Marcy's lover's room. That was just a few minutes ago for a brief conversation with my wife over the phone. She was already in a hotel room with her doctor-boyfriend!

I finished reading the lengthy letter from her which our neighbor, the cute, flirty, much younger wife, Leslie just handed to me:

'... I have reserved a room for us at the Ambassador Hotel near the airport. If you still want me, meet me there two hours after my flight is due back. I plan on going there alone after my arrival. Please don't come to the airport when my flight lands. Please don't make a scene. Either take me back or walk away.'

'I plan on seeing you at the hotel. I'll be waiting for you in the lobby.'

When I finished reading my wife's letter, I noticed Leslie was at the kitchen island filling her wine glass again.

"Are you OK?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I will be," I replied.

She nodded and came back with the bottle and her glass. Sitting next to me this time, she refilled my glass and turned to look at me with those doe-like eyes.

"So, Rick? What do we do?"

***************

Reacting

"You really didn't know she was planning to cheat on me, when she asked you to deliver this letter?" I asked.

Leslie shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably, now seeming to recognize her place in an awkward situation.

"I... didn't think about it," she said quietly. "I just thought you were attractive, and I wanted to spend time with you." She paused, nervously taking a sip of her wine, then continued, "When Vinnie and I are playing with other swingers or he lets me go off with another guy, I just enjoy the moment. We don't really think about the others involved. It's just sex and fun."

"You're assuming those others are all players, too, just looking for sex," I pointed out.

"I assume... You're right, of course," she admitted a little self-consciously. "I thought Marcy at least talked to you, and that you both decided to be swingers. I suspected she was sending me to you as a quid pro quo for something she did or planned. I just assumed her letter was something like an 'Enjoy' or 'Have fun' type of flirty letter, with you already in on it. I didn't know she was ambushing you like this."

"Well, she didn't talk to me ahead of time," I said tersely. "I had some suspicions, and tracked her down on the phone, finding her in her boyfriend's hotel room. I learned about all of this on the phone with her, all within the last half-hour just before you knocked on the door! Now?... I think I need some time alone to process this."

Leslie took a big swig of wine, then set the half empty glass down on the coffee table. "I understand," she said softly. "This is all sort of a mood-killer, and I was hoping it would just be fun. I'll leave you to think about it. But don't dwell on it too much alone. Call me if you want some company," and she stood and walked to the door.

I set my glass down, then stood to join her at the front door. "Sorry your evening didn't go as planned and I disappointed you," I said. "I just need some time to work things out in my own mind."

"I know," she replied with a quiet melancholy tone to her voice. "But I'm serious when I say, 'call me anytime, if you want some company.' I'd be happy to fuck your brains out when you're ready. And my husband, Vinnie won't mind."

"I might take you up on that," I said with just a hint of the depression settling in to blanket the numbness. "But just not tonight."

She nodded and turned, walking out the door and down our front walk, as I stood admiring her ass swaying in the sundress. That gorgeous ass was a bright spark in my otherwise clouded mind, stirring a cauldron of conflicting feelings.

After closing the front door, I returned to my seat and picked up my glass, taking a gulp of the Red Moschato wine. 'So, what now?' I thought, and my mind calmly went into military planning mode, logically analyzing the situation: What were the indicators? And what are the next available options for the main plan with the appropriate contingencies as fallback?

As a retired Army Colonel, I had experience with situations like this with other soldiers in my commands. The husband- or wife-soldier returns from a deployment to find their spouse cheated. There were plenty of domestic disputes over the years, which were usually dealt with by the Company First Sergeants, sometimes after having to bail out a soldier from jail. And I had my share of dealing with some of the young officers when they got into similar situations. But those were things which always happened to others.

Marcy and I had our own tense moments over the years. First, when I was on the one-year assignment to Korea, and I suspected Marcy of cheating. Then there was Diedre's blowjob after our narrow escape from the roadside ambush in Iraq. So, I think the instigator for our current problem was our "Don't ask, don't tell" attitude to bury it all in the past. We would be back together after every deployment. And after some tense days or even weeks of getting reacquainted, we fell back into our routines as a married couple. But over the years, that "Don't ask, don't tell" policy didn't bury the past, it accumulated our suspicions of each other.

But THIS is different! THIS is not a suspicion, this IS infidelity!...'Stop and THINK! Don't go off on tangents. Analyze!'

Is it now any different? Why? What made this infidelity any different from any other? Should I believe her when Marcy says in her letter; she was faithful, when I had witnesses saying she was showing up VERY early for work all those times while I was deployed? WAS this any different? Or am I just out of the loop and feeling depressed?

Then it sank in. THIS didn't come after some months of a separation causing stress and tensions to build to a breaking point in the spouse at home. THIS didn't just happen in a spur-of-the-moment response when you've survived a near-death experience.

THIS was my wife, spending time to plan and calculate what she wanted to do before she deployed with the hospital team! My anger was building.

THIS was my wife secretly scheming to get what she wanted: sex with another guy!

THIS was MY WIFE at this very moment thousands of miles away, probably with her boyfriend's cock in her mouth! I was seething with anger now.

THIS was my wife seeking out another slut to throw at me to shut me up, while she takes her six weeks away to fuck her boyfriend!

'NO', I suddenly and firmly thought, hitting the breaks, and finally calming to regain some control... That's not fair to Leslie.

I spent a minute emptying my mind, and I tried to relax to compose myself.

I don't think Leslie's a slut. This wasn't her fault. She's a cute and much younger girl. She does have that "innocent girl-next-door" look. And she and her husband have their own agreements between them. Theirs might not be a traditional monogamous marriage. But I'm not going to be so judgmental as to call her a slut for it. She and Vincent know of their extra-marital activities, and they seem to agree together to continue with it.

But I WILL check with Vincent to ensure Leslie's not offering to fuck me behind his back. And as long as he's cool with it,... I just might take Leslie up on her offer to fuck my brains out.

My mind started accelerating again. But none of those issues with Leslie and Vincent or whether I fuck her or not changes what Marcy did to me... to US!

My wife coldly and calculatingly spent weeks planning her fuck-fest away with her boyfriend. She quietly snuck out of the house that morning to go board her plane without even saying goodbye to me! She didn't let on to me during our last week's together that she was dissatisfied or that she fantasized about fucking another guy. She ignored my texts trying to communicate with her. Then she sent Leslie with this letter, expecting me to jump on Leslie and fuck her like a panting, horny dog! And in her letter, she even suggested I could charge Vincent for allowing him to watch me fuck his wife! The anger was building again. I wonder how much my pimp-wife thought I should charge!

THIS wife of mine was not the woman I married!

I noticed the bottle of wine was empty, and realized I needed to again try to relax.

The analysis seemed complete, and I believed I had a firm grasp of the situation. My wife secretly conspired to arrange six-weeks away for a fuckfest with her boyfriend, while scheming to entice me into infidelity, too. She didn't give me any choice in this six-week break in our marriage vows. She treated me like a mindless animal, herded into the mating pen with no choice.

Picking up the empty wine glass, I looked longingly at the emptiness of it. That emptiness looked almost cold, like Marcy's plan. And my mind grew equally cold, and darker. I sat calmly staring at that empty wine glass for a minute.

Then,... as if a Phoenix reborn from the ashes, I rose to a new cheerful light with a goal in mind.

Now, it's time to plan. Time to break out the scotch and think about what's next.

I remembered an old James Cagney movie my parents liked when I was young: "One, Two, Three." He played a Coca Cola executive in West Berlin in the late 1950's or very early 60's, just before the rise of the Berlin Wall. But Cagney's decisive character was what struck me. It didn't seem to matter what happened or how bad things looked, he would just start throwing out orders in the form "One, you do this. Two, you over there do that. Three,...", with Cagney always trying to set things in motion to stay one step ahead of the social dynamics of his boss's daughter and her East German boyfriend.

With my own ideas, the steps started coming into focus: One, change the bank accounts to separate our finances. I know, there are some who think it's time to 'burn the bitch' and take all the money, probably thinking I should do it to her before she does it to me. But she did raise our kids, and she did say she wants us to stay together. I might not need to grab all the money first. But better safe than sorry, so I'll at least protect my half.

Two, contact a divorce lawyer to start drafting a fair and even split in all our assets. I'm a retired Army Colonel and now a defense contractor. Marcy's a well-paid nurse. And with no kids at home, I won't be stuck paying child support. I know I'll be required by law to give her half of my military pension, as she deserves for the decades as a military wife. But otherwise, with everything she wrote in her letter to me, I doubt any honest judge will order me to pay additional spousal support.

Three, talk to the kids to find out what they know and judge their reactions. If they don't know she's fucking around on me, I'm not going to poison them against her. She's still their mother and she will always be their mother. I'll just leave it as the two of us going through a rocky time and needing a break from each other. I'll request they give us some privacy until we work through this.

When I reached for my glass of scotch, the second one, I noticed it was almost empty. I'll not return to that empty darkness again. There's no need, and it would not further my resolve. I guess it's time to head to bed. I could wallow in depression and continue drinking all night. But that wouldn't get me any closer to completing my mission. And that's what this was turning into: A mission! Take your time! Plan! The mission is to regain control of my own destiny and my own situation!

I'll take a sleep aid to help me relax and clear my mind. I'll call into work tomorrow morning and take a few personal days off to get everything in order. Then it should just be a matter of a few trips to some stores for the supplies and waiting for five more weeks for her return.

I thought of one more item to add to the plan. Four, I'll talk to Vincent tomorrow about borrowing his wife, Leslie. I think with a glass of wine or two she might better understand what Marcy really thought of her, herding her into the mating pen.

***

After waking the next morning with a slightly dry mouth from the wine and scotch (note to self, again, sweet wines and hard liquor do NOT go well together), I downed a large glass of orange juice and some water before my usual coffee. That cleared my head quickly, and I took a seat at my home office desk.

One quick phone call to my secretary, and I was set for the next few days to focus on the tasks at hand.

The next call was to our lawyer to set an appointment for the next day, the same lawyer who prepared our wills last year. But he handles all types of personal matters, including divorce. He already had a detailed list of our assets, so he'd be the best choice to quickly write the first draft of the divorce settlement.

Pulling out a plain brown envelope, I wrote just one word on the front: "Marcy".

Sliding my computer keyboard into place in front of me, I began typing the letter.

***

Five weeks later

The Ambassador Hotel near the airport had a large elaborate lobby. He walked through the front doors and glanced around to see if she was early. Walking over to the couches well away from the check-in counter, the guy took a seat. Glancing at his watch, he thought 'Almost two hours. She should be here any minute,' and he fumbled with the envelope in his hand.

A few minutes later, at exactly the two-hour mark from her plane landing, she walked out of one of the lobby elevators, as if in total control. She looked around, noticed him, and walked over. "Vinnie? This is a strange coincidence running into you here."

"He asked me to meet you here," Vincent said with a nervous but deadpan expression, "and give you this." He handed her the plain brown envelope.

Her facial expression noticeably fell, as she recognized it, just like the envelope she had given Leslie to deliver to her husband six weeks ago. She took it and saw the single word on the front; "Marcy." Simple, and to be hand-delivered, just like hers.

"Is Leslie here with you?" she asked.

"No," Vincent replied. "He just asked me to do this as a favor for him. Leslie told me about your letter. But I haven't read this one."

"Is Leslie with him now?" she asked, trying to anticipate where this was going.

"I don't know," Vincent replied. "I think you're just supposed to read the letter now, in front of me. He said that's what you did, having him read yours in front of Leslie."

Marcy nervously opened the letter and began reading, as Vincent pulled out his cell phone and began typing a text message.

***

"Dear Marcy,

By the time you read this, you will know that I am not meeting you in that hotel lobby. Your plan to reconcile after you returned was not a plan made with me in mind. But before you pass judgment on me, think about what has happened to us.

Over the years while I was "off playing soldier" as you described it, tensions between us during my service deployments could have stressed you to break your wedding vows and take a lover. I might relate to being a single parent with the stress and responsibilities of raising our kids, as if shouldering the responsibilities of command, sometimes with life and death decisions. And if you were there for me after any infidelities when I returned, I hope I would have forgiven you under those unusual and stressful circumstances.

I don't know what Diedre told you about what happened in Iraq. What did happen occurred only once in a moment of weakness, when we both realized just how close we came to dying together. It was inexcusable of me, and I wish you had confronted me about it, because I've been feeling embarrassed that I could have been so weak. But Diedre confronting you during her "saner and calmer" moments after returning shows me I can never trust her again. I won't go into details other than that, unless you specifically ask for them, just as I don't expect you to begin blurting out details of your exploits with your doctor-boyfriend.

I'm no longer off playing soldier, and this should have been our time to enjoy the well-deserved empty-nest years... together.

But six weeks ago, you took off without even saying goodbye. You ignored my text messages. I had to track you down via others you worked with. And you planned it all for weeks in advance, without saying a word to me about it! Yours was not a spontaneous "heat of the moment" decision, or the result of pressures building over days and weeks. It was a coldly calculated plan.

I appreciate you sending Leslie to me. But in doing so, you treated both Leslie and me as a couple of horny, barnyard animals, with no real thought of us. How did you expect me to react to her after reading your letter and first learning about your planned six weeks of fucking your boyfriend, while I stood there in front of her? She was merely a convenience you found for your own thoughtless use.

So, here is the gist of this situation we are in. You went on your trip, and during your absence, you were not my wife, and I was not your husband, as you described. You wrote both of us a six-week hall pass without giving me any choice in the matter.

I can envision how you went to bed every night with your lover for those past six weeks, me being unsure of what was happening and only imagining what you were doing. I imagined how you two woke together, probably almost every day. An occasional fuck with Leslie would not even come close to making up for the daily humiliation one-man experiences, knowing the other man is silently laughing at him by fucking his wife for six weeks! Someone pays for that unsolicited humiliation I have felt every day for six weeks. Someone pays for your boyfriend's choice to cheat every day with a married woman for six weeks. And someone pays for the indifferent way you've treated your wedding vows for six weeks with your cold plan.

As things stand right now, you and your boyfriend blissfully return with no consequences, while I bear the burden of continuing to pay in full for your decisions, with you deciding for me that I should forgive and forget. But I choose not!