Limits

A moment later, a second man approached our table and asked Wendy, "Would you like to join me for a dance?"

Wendy was pensive, when she turned to me. "I don't want to be rude," was her feeble response. "Do you mind?"

I looked at my wife and said, "Five minutes ago, we agreed to save all our dances for each other." I stood and offered her my hand while saying to the guy, "No thanks. I'm going to dance with my wife."

I thought Ben was going to choke on his drink as he tried to hold back a grin.

I led Wendy back to the dance floor and we danced for five more songs. I caught Cheri and Wendy exchange several frustrated looks.

When Wendy insisted that we rest, we rejoined Ben and Cheri. Neither looked happy and I suspected that they had traded a few angry words.

After a short rest, Cheri said, "Chris, we haven't danced yet. Shall we?"

Wendy was nodding her approval and was shocked when I said, "I'm in the mood to spend as much time as I can, dancing with my bride." I slapped Ben on the shoulder and said, "Take your girl out there. We'll join you shortly."

Two songs later, the man that had earlier danced with Cheri approached us. He said to me, "I noticed your date tapping her toe. Would you mind if I asked her to dance?"

I told him, "My wife is resting. We'll be joining our friends" — I pointed to Ben and Cheri — "when she's ready to dance again. Thanks."

Cheri and Ben returned to our table after the next dance. Cheri grabbed Wendy's wrist and announced, "We're going to the ladies' room."

When they were gone, I asked Ben, "Do you know those two assholes?"

He nodded and said, "I know the taller one. He's a friend of Cheri's."

"A fuck buddy?" I wanted to clarify.

"Yes."

"Why were the two of you angry, when Wendy and I returned?"

Ben smiled and told me, "Cheri wanted me to talk you into dancing with her, so the asshole could spend time dancing with Wendy."

I was furious and hissed, "What are they trying to accomplish?"

"Cheri has convinced Wendy that you'll get excited watching her dance with other men. It's the first step toward a hotwife playdate."

"It's more like the first step toward divorce."

"That's what I told Cheri," admitted Ben.

"Listen," I said, while giving Ben a hard look. "They're planning something in the bathroom. Whatever it is will involve Wendy directly ignoring my wishes to spend every dance with her. If that happens, I'm leaving. I expect you to give me at least a 20-minute head start before giving Wendy a ride home. Depending on how pissed I am, you might end up with a new roommate for a few days.

As Ben agreed, I saw Cheri and Wendy exit the restroom. When they reached the dance floor, Cheri took Wendy's arm and guided her onto the floor and they began dancing together.

Ben and I had seen them dance together many times. They were sexy as hell. Most nights, I'd be content to watch them from my seat, but tonight wasn't that kind of night.

Like sharks smelling blood, the two assholes approached the girls and joined them in a fast dance.

"They're going to stay out there through the next slow dance. Right?"

With a frown, Ben said, "That's my guess."

I watched two more fast dances, with all participants talking together, while keeping a respectful distance. When the next slow dance started, each woman melted into their partner's arms.

I looked at Ben and reminded him that I wanted a 20-minute head start.

Wendy was locked in an intimate dance embrace as I stood up, put on my sport jacket, and headed toward the door. I never looked back.

I purposely turned my phone off as I exited the parking lot. I drove quickly, but didn't want to be pulled over. I got home and threw a couple of days' worth of clothes into my gym bag.

When Wendy and I go out on a date, she doesn't take her keys. I locked the back slider door with an extra lock-bar and rechecked our windows. I disengaged the garage door opener and manually locked the garage door.

I knew that Ben and Cheri had a key to our front door. They didn't have the key to the dead bolt that we only used when we went away on vacation. Once the house was secure, I was off to the Marriott on the other side of town.

I didn't sleep Friday night, but instead of tossing and turning, I made a list of things that needed to be done if Wendy and I were going to split up.

I didn't want to interrupt anyone's Saturday morning sleep, so I waited until 10 a.m. to turn on my phone and make a couple of calls. I called two close friends who had recently been through a divorce and got the name of a top divorce lawyer. Luckily, she worked on Saturday mornings and I was able to make an appointment for 7 a.m. Monday.

With the appointment made, I checked for messages and found 14 voicemails and 26 texts. All were from Wendy or Cheri, except for one from Ben: "I'm going to hang out at the office, until I hear from you."

I texted him back: "I can be there in 10 minutes."

I found Ben in his office. He looked as bad as I did.

"Wendy is in a panic."

"She should be. I have a meeting with a divorce attorney on Monday."

"Ah fuck!" Ben grumbled. "Are you really going to divorce her?"

"I don't know what else to do, Ben. At a minimum, I want to know my options."

Ben and I sat around for another two hours. We talked about the possibility of reconciliation. However, if that happened, I needed a plan to make sure that Cheri didn't continue to influence Wendy.

Ben agreed to help me and would be my eyes and ears. As he was leaving for home, I suggested, "You can tell Wendy that we talked. Tell her she can come to the house after her shift the hospital on Monday. We'll talk then."

On Sunday, I met the divorced friend who recommended his attorney, at his boat on Long Island Sound. We sailed all afternoon and I treated him to a lobster dinner that evening before returning to the Marriott. I was in a surprisingly good mood.

I met the attorney, Bev Carr, at 7 the next morning and she explained my rights in a divorce proceeding. She recommended that I talk with Wendy and try and work things out. I knew that was an option and I hoped it would work, but I gave Bev a retainer and asked her to draw up a divorce petition. I hoped I wouldn't need it, but I wanted it to be ready just in case.

Bev also recommended an appointment with a local private investigator. Depending on the outcome of our talk, the PI could provide reassurance that Wendy stayed within the boundaries of our committed marriage.

I didn't get into the office until 11 a.m. As I walked through the door, Cheri charged me and demanded, "Where the hell have you been?"

A weekend's worth of frustration exploded and I took two fast steps in her direction. Ben was just as quick. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and pinned me to the wall. "Don't touch her Chris! Nothing good will happen, if you do!"

When I whipped around and looked at Ben I could see that he was looking out for my best interests. My buddy did have my back, even when his wife was involved.

As Ben and I untangled ourselves, I growled at Cheri. "Get the fuck out of here. If you're not gone in one minute, I'm calling the cops."

"Chris! I'm just here to help!"

I exploded, "Fuck you, Cheri! The only thing you care ablout is turning my wife into a slut like you!"

"I'm not a slut, you asshole. Ben and I have an agreement and a perfectly acceptable relationship."

"You do have an agreement. You and Ben both agree that you can be a cum dump and slut" I said. Pausing a moment, I decided to continue. "Leave me alone, Cheri," I said. "I need to decide if I'm going to file for divorce."

Cheri was standing in the middle of our office as I turned and walked away, slamming the door to my office.

It was time to plan.

My talk with Wendy was anticlimactic. I had arrived home to a locked house after work on Monday evening. Wendy arrived at 7 p.m. on the nose and burst through the front door shouting, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." When she jumped into my arms and begged, "Please forgive me," I thought there might be a chance that we could repair the damage that had been done.

"Let's talk," I suggested, as Wendy loosened her tight embrace. Together we walked to the kitchen table.

"Did you really meet with a divorce lawyer?" Wendy asked.

Slowly nodding, I told Wendy, "I want to find out my rights and confirm that the condo and business would stay with me, since I acquired each before we were married."

"Chris! Please! I don't want to talk about divorce. I promised myself that I wouldn't bring it up as a possibility and it ends up being the first thing I ask about." She settled herself before asking, "Can I say a few things?"

When I nodded my agreement, Wendy said, "I'm ashamed that I let those stupid fantasy stories, along with Cheri and Ben's lifestyle, affect our marriage. I told my parents the complete and honest truth and they're ashamed of me too.

"Through my hospital, I've arranged to see a counselor. Our first appointment is Wednesday and I'll be seeing her twice a week, until I can get my head on straight and figure out how I became so stupid."

I smiled at Wendy, because counseling was something I would insist on.

"I also called Cheri. That's how I found out that you'd seen a divorce lawyer. I told Cheri that I wasn't going to talk with her for a while. It really doesn't matter, but she agreed that it was a good idea, if I expected to fix things with you."

She finished with a plea, "Chris, we can't fix things if we're not together. Will you let me sleep in the guest bedroom to start? Please!"

We didn't have sex until the next weekend. We were horny as old goats and fucked through two orgasms for me and a few more for Wendy.

Wendy moved back into our bedroom halfway through the second month. For the previous couple of weeks, we'd been intimate almost every day. Half the time we fucked and half the time we made love.

By the fifth month, we were as close to normal as I ever expected to get. I was completely happy. It was a nice surprise.

One day, I pulled into our office parking lot and as I climbed out of my truck, Ben came out the office door. With a shrug of his head, Ben indicated that he wanted me to follow him. Together we walked 50 yards to the first of 25 greenhouses that we used to grow Ben's plants.

I followed Ben to his "orchid room" where he cultivated his award-winning orchids. I silently watched him for more than 15 minutes while he studied a new batch of cross-bred flowers.

Without looking up from his work, he said, "I've cancelled our trip to the Orlando conference."

Ben and I were scheduled to attend a four-day industry conference starting at the end of the week. We rarely traveled to these events together. Most often, they either highlighted the plant side of the business and Ben would attend or the construction side and I'd go.

This year it seemed to be a nice combination and Ben and I had been talking about the trip for weeks.

I had a bad feeling churning in my gut as he continued. "Cheri and her latest asshole thought I was sleeping last night," he said. "They discussed a dinner that Cheri is hosting at my house on Friday while we're away. Wendy is coming and so is a second asshole."

I was surprised at my emotions. I was angry, but it wasn't the ferocious anger from six months earlier. Instead I was mostly tired. Sick and tired.

I pulled out my phone and called Bev Carr, my attorney. Surprisingly, I was able to talk with her immediately. I was able to confirm that the divorce petition had been prepared. I told Bev that I would arrange through a process server to have the paperwork picked up in the next few days. As I was getting ready to disconnect, Ben asked, "Let me talk to her."

I listened, as Ben introduced himself. He told Bev that he wanted divorce paperwork prepared and needed it to be complete before the end of the week. Apparently, Bev agreed and told Ben to come to her office immediately.

Wendy was working the 4 p.m.-to-midnight shifts this week. It was going to be easy to stay away from the skank.

On Wednesday she texted, "I haven't heard from you or seen you in two days. Are you OK?"

I waited until her shift started (she wasn't allowed to use her cell phone) and responded, "Busy."

On Thursday morning Wendy tried to call. I ignored the call and she didn't leave a voicemail, but she did send a text. "Come home for lunch. We can have a quickie before you head to the airport."

I waited until 1:30 before I texted back, "I'm leaving for the airport from the job site."

She called three times in a row. I ignored each call and didn't listen to the voicemail she left after the third call. Other than to send her text that we'd successfully arrived in Florida, (a lie), I ignored all communication with Wendy.

On Friday afternoon, we were sitting at the dining room table of Ben's neighbor. The neighbor was away on vacation, but had agreed to let Ben have access to his house. Ben and I were sitting with our private investigator, Lou. The fourth person at the table was a lifelong buddy, Larry Baxter. Larry is a sergeant on our local police department and he had agreed to serve the divorce papers.

We had a sizable advantage having Larry on our team, as he was 6-7 and tipped the scale at 270 pounds. He was a giant.

On the table, we had two laptops that were connected through WiFi to audio/visual cameras that were scattered strategically around Ben's home.

We watched Wendy arrive at 5:30 p.m. The slut was dressed in my favorite blue halter top dress. It was impossible for her to wear a bra with the dress and I suspected that she wasn't wearing panties either.

The assholes arrived in separate cars, but had coordinated it to arrive at the same time.

The first part of the evening was a dinner party. They talked in the living room and had cocktails and wine. Cheri served a nice pasta and shrimp dish that I had many times over the years.

As the dinner progressed, the conversation became a bit risqué and then dirty. As a cherry pie and ice cream were served for dessert, the conversation became raunchy.

At one point, we heard Cheri ask Wendy, "Who do you want for your partner tonight?"

She answered, "Since I'm only going to do this once, I'm thinking Bill ... and then John."

Cheri clapped and Bill and John cheered and gave each other high fives.

When Wendy continued, everyone in both houses was surprised. She said, "And after that, Bill and John and Cheri together."

Wendy smiled proudly as her new friends continued to cheer.

We left the neighbor's house immediately and were walking into Ben's house less than 90 seconds later.

Ben led the way into the dining room. Cheri recognized what was going on first and groaned, "Fuck!"

The two assholes were smirking like idiots, until they saw Larry walk into the room, dressed in his size XXXL police uniform.

Wendy eyes were as wide as saucers and her jaw was hanging open as Larry walked up to her. "I'm sorry to have to do this Wendy, but you are officially served." Wendy's eyes were bouncing between Larry and me as he dropped the paperwork in front of her. Larry tried to continue, but Wendy was in a confused daze. Finally, in a booming voice, Larry said, "Wendy!"

When Larry had her attention, he continued, "Wendy, there is also a restraining order keeping you away from Chris, his condo and his business. If you get within 500 feet of Chris or the two properties, you will be arrested. Do you understand?"

Wendy could barely nod her head. "As a friend, I'd advise you to hire a lawyer."

Finally, Larry concluded, "Cheri, you are officially served." Cheri was stunned, as a second set of papers were dropped in front of her. "The court has allowed Ben to have 10 days to remove his property from the house. Do you understand?"

"What the fuck is this?" Cheri yelled at Ben.

Ben just gave Cheri a contemptuous glare.

"You are also prohibited from getting within 500 feet of his business," Larry continued.

With the fireworks over, I laughed. It was a strange sound, given the circumstances. When I had everyone's undivided attention, I said to the assholes, while I pointed at Wendy, "Hey guys, the slut likes to be fist-fucked up her asshole and she doesn't need lube."

Wendy started crying hysterically.

Larry's booming voice said, "Chris! Stop it! Now! Wendy is emotional enough."

Returning his attention to the diners, he said, "If you'll excuse us, we'll be leaving. Enjoy the rest of your dinner."

An hour after we left, I received a text from Larry. "Wendy left five minutes after we did," he said. "It looks like Cheri is letting both assholes stay the night." He also sent me the car registration information on the two shitheads.

One week later, It was a beautiful Tuesday evening when I pulled into the parking lot at Lessmore Park. There was an over-30 softball game being played. I sat in the bleachers, watching the game and getting some fresh air.

After, I followed the players to The Bar, a local hangout. The team grabbed a table in the back corner next to another group of ball players and started trading war stories about their athletic achievements.

I waited five minutes and sipped a local India Pale Ale before approaching the group.

"You're Bill Weston? Right?" I asked.

"What's it to you?" He wanted to know.

I told him, "Your wife just went into premature labor. A neighbor drove her to the hospital."

Bill grabbed his phone and looked at it. "Deb would have left me a message if she was in labor. You're full of shit!"

"I was with her, when it happened," I explained. "I helped her get to the neighbor's car."

"Do you know how it happened?" Bill asked.

I pulled a memory stick from my front pocket. I showed it to Bill, before tossing it to him. I said, "She went into labor as I was showing her a video of you fucking Cheri Wilson. She never got to the third video. The one with you tag teaming Cheri with your buddy John."

I tossed a second memory stick to John Malloy and told him, "Your wife Jane wants me to tell you, 'Don't come home'. She's going to have you served with divorce papers sometime next week."

"You're the cuckold from Cheri's house," John said, finally recognizing me.

"I'm not a cuck. I had the slut served with divorce papers before she let you into the cesspool between her legs. But your actions did cause my divorce, just like my actions tonight will cause yours."

"You motherfucker!" John's growled as he rose to his feet. Bill stood too, along with a couple of other teammates.

Before they could start anything we heard, "Gentlemen! Is there a problem?"

All 6-7 of Larry Baxter walked up beside me. He continued, "I'm an off-duty local police sergeant." He looked at me and winked. "It looks like you're not welcome here," he told me. "It's probably best if you leave."

I answered, "Yes, sir," and as I started toward the exit, I heard Bill holler, "We're not done, asshole. I'm going to track you down and kill you! Motherfucker!"

The last thing I heard as I left was, "I'm placing you under arrest."

Another week later, on a beautiful spring Saturday morning, I was sitting in my kitchen sipping a cup of coffee when the doorbell rang.

Wendy was standing on the front step along with three moving men. "Hi Chris," Wendy offered. "Thanks for lifting the restraining order, so I can get my things."

"Hey." I nodded in response.

Wendy stretched out her and tried to hand me a couple of pieces of lined paper. "This is a list of the things I'd like."

"Take whatever you want," I said over my shoulder, as I headed back to my coffee mug, sitting on the kitchen table.

I was sitting on the backyard patio when I heard the sliding door open about 30 minutes later. Wendy was standing in the open doorway and she was holding our wedding album. "Do you want to split up our wedding pictures?" She wanted to know.