Lost to D-Town

After a long day of flights and cabs, we settled into the hotel to get ready for the wedding. It was the best hotel in Detroit. But in a recurring theme to our marriage, we were soon fighting again. Actually, my wife was pissed at me again because of something I said. After storming out of our hotel room, she gave me the cold shoulder while we rode the crowded elevator down to the first floor. Once outside, we silently stood on the sidewalk while the doorman flagged down a cab.

Once inside the cab, she moved to the far side. With her back turned towards me, we didn't speak to each other for the entire ride to the wedding. Not a single word.

She just stared out the window at the dark streets of Detroit. Every once in awhile, I could see the Middle Eastern cabbie look into his rear view mirror at us and wisely stayed quiet. By the end of the ride, I was weakening so I considered saying I was sorry, but I couldn't force myself say the words. I didn't want to admit I was wrong when I was right.

When the cab pulled up in front of the old brick Masonic Lodge, my wife didn't wait for the cab to stop before she opened the door. The door slammed behind her as I paid the driver. Without looking back, she rushed up the stairs towards the front door. Quietly, the cab driver glanced at my wife, then at me and then back at my wife. His laughing eyes said it all. I could tell what he was thinking because men have a certain disdain for other men who cannot control their women.

When I looked up, I saw her jade green dress disappearing inside. Not waiting for my change, I followed her into the reception, but she had already vanished into the crowd. At first, I thought it would be easy to find a tall blonde woman in a sea of dark haired guests. I was wrong. I looked and looked.

When I couldn't find her, I regretted not apologizing earlier when I had a chance. Now, I wanted to take back what I said to her earlier but, first, I wanted a chance to explain that I couldn't help myself.

Earlier, when she had stepped out of the bathroom in the hotel, she smiled, spun around once and posed for me in her new outfit. Excitement and joy were written all over her face. I should have said something nice.

Instead of giving her a compliment, I stated, "You're not wearing that to my nephew's wedding, are you? That dress is too revealing. It's inappropriate and you're going to embarrass me."

I was right. Her dress had thin shoulder straps and a plunging V-neckline in both the front and back. The upper bodice was tight and left little to the imagination while the pleated skirt flared out around her while she twirled. While she looked beautiful in the dress, there was a lot wrong with it.

Her neckline plunged too far and displayed too much cleavage. Her perky breasts threatened to fall out of dress with one wrong move. Also, I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra because the back of her dress plunged down even further than in the front. Everyone at the reception would know she wasn't wearing a bra. To make it worse, her flirty skirt showed more thigh than it covered.

In spite of everything wrong, she looked fantastic. Actually, in that dress, she was every man's fantasy: a tall, sexy blonde wearing almost nothing. Even though she looked great, I knew her outfit invited nothing but trouble. I didn't want trouble.

I don't know why she couldn't see that I was right, but the look on her face said I was wrong. Dead wrong. I had seen that look on her face a million times. She was pissed. Now, with her lost in a crowd, I really wished I'd had apologized to her earlier or, better yet, kept my mouth shut.

I didn't like the idea of my scantily clad wife being alone at the party so I searched and searched. The crowd was packed with people I didn't know. I saw dancers, drinkers, the bride, the groom, and my drunk, older brother but I couldn't find my wife. Finally, after scouring the reception hall numerous times, I felt relieved when I finally found her.

She was seated at our assigned table but she didn't notice me as I walked up behind her. With an almost empty glass of wine, she was seated between a large, plump woman with lots of pearls and a stranger. My curiosity was stirred as I noticed my wife was talking to with the stranger. My relief turned to fear when I noticed the stranger had his hand on her thigh.

My jaw clenched at the sight of him caressing her. My mind raced with questions. Why was his hand on my wife's thigh? Why was she letting him touch her? How do they know each other? How did they meet?

Instead of answers, dread filled the void in my soul as I watched. All I knew was, he shouldn't be touching my wife and, more importantly, my wife shouldn't be letting him touch her.

To let them know I had caught them, I wanted to say something but couldn't find the words so, instead, I coughed a loud, obnoxious cough. Everyone at the table looked up at me but them. Still locked in a conversation, they didn't turn around. I stood there waiting for them to acknowledge me but it didn't happen.

I wanted the stranger to move so I could sit next to my wife but they ignored me. I tried to think of the perfect retort to being ignored but I couldn't utter the words. Instead, I just watched his hand gently knead her bare thigh. All I could think of was how dangerously close his hand was to her hemline.

Everyone was staring at me and I felt embarrassed. I wanted to scream at the stranger, "Move, you're in my seat and get your hands off my wife." And at my wife, I wanted to scream, "See, you should have listened to me. This trouble started because of the indecent way you're dressed."

Maybe it was decorum that stopped me from yelling at them or maybe it was just fear of being embarrassed but I couldn't think of what else to say. As the other people at the table continue to look up at me, I was tongued-tied. As my mind spiraled, I decided to sit down.

Out of the nine spots at the round table, the only open chair was directly across from my wife on the far side of the table. Instead of standing there looking like a fool for any longer, I walked around the table and sat down between two old men. When I sat down, they turned their backs to me to talk to their guest.

As I sat down, my wife didn't even look at me. As much as I tried to catch her attention, she kept talking to the stranger sitting next to her. With their heads leaning close to each other, she was engrossed in their conversation. For the first time, I looked at the stranger.

He had short, dark hair with intense black eyes. Although the stranger was dressed in a nice suit and tie, he had a menacing presence like a bouncer at the front door of a seedy bar. His gold Rolex had diamonds and his arms were big from long hours at the gym.

Trim with wide shoulders, he looked like he had won a few barroom brawls. As a medal for winning, he had an ugly scar above his right eye.

He was younger than my wife but he probably didn't know it. I knew her true age but my wife had always taken good care of herself with yoga and looked half her age. I was the one who hadn't aged well.

Oddly, he wasn't just a brute. He seemed to have the gift of gab and created his own gravity around him. Everyone at the table laughed at his jokes and was quiet when he spoke. He was charming to everyone but me. Even guests walking by the table would stop by and say hello to him.

Always, the stranger introduced my wife to them. The guests must have thought she was his date because his hand remained on her thigh. Neither one of them was self-conscience about such a blatant show of intimacy. I tried to imagine an innocent reason for such familiarity, but I couldn't. Afterwards, the guests would walk away while whispering to each about the stranger. Usually, a smirk was followed with a nod.

I noticed the stranger was giving my wife a lot of wine and she drank it all. To make it worse, I knew my wife always flirts when she is drunk, especially, when she is mad at me. She had done it before but never this blatantly.

Tonight, she was in flirting overdrive. During dinner, I watched as they got to know each other. Oddly, there wasn't the usual social discomfort between them when two new people get to know each other for the first time.

Actually, they were hitting it off in spades. Talking. Laughing. Whispering. When she said something meant only for the stranger, she put her lips to his ear. It was very intimate. One time, as she told him a secret, a smile appeared on his face.

Then, for the first time, the stranger looked at me. For a split second, he acknowledged me with a glare. The corner of his lip curled up. Filled with contempt, his black eyes screamed that he was taking her from me. I tried to hold his stare, but couldn't.

Instead, I glanced down at the untouched food on my plate. Kicking myself, I looked back at the stranger but he was already talking to my wife again. I had lost the battle.

In the past, I had accused my wife of having an affair but she always denied it. But this time, she couldn't deny the attraction between them. They way she looked at him had an amorous quality. She couldn't deny that she was tempted.

While they chattered, it made no difference that I was at the same table. As far as my wife was concerned, I was on the far side of the moon. Not hiding her attraction to him, my wife touched the stranger's arm, fluttered her eyelashes at him and smiled. I just watched my wife flirt with the stranger. Meanwhile, the stranger was ogling my wife's breasts. He was like a wolf waiting to cut a lamb away from the herd.

I stewed in my anger as the stranger seduced my beautiful wife. She was born with big, beautiful, blue eyes and a dancer's body. Few people have ever been able to ignite such an intense passion in others as easily as her. Always elegant, her movements attracted men like a bees to a flower.

To the rest of the people at the table, my wife appeared to be a wholesome, fun girl but I knew she could be mean and vengeful. She had a dark side. Tonight, she was pushing her behavior to new limits.

After dessert, the stranger asked my wife to dance. She immediately agreed without consulting me or even looking my way. Like it was their first date, he reached out and took her hand as she stood up. Following behind him, my wife let herself be pulled away. I just sat as I watched my wife disappear into the mob on the dance floor.

I forced myself to stay seated, but my curiosity got the better of me. Careful not to be seen, I followed them. Hiding in the shadows and crowds, I was able to keep them in sight. While they enjoyed three dances without a break, I watched from a dark corner of the room as the tension built between them.

All of their dances involved them touching in some way or manner. The faster songs were peppered with prolonged bumps while the young man took advantage of the slow songs by touching my wife.

Through the throngs of wriggling dancers, I caught glimpses of him pressing his thigh between her long legs. Other times, I saw his hands squeezing my wife's haunches. With her arms high in the air and moving to the music, my wife wasn't stopping him. She wanted his attention regardless of who knew. Luckily, no one else saw them but me.

The couple was so engrossed with the music and each other; they never noticed me watching them. As the music got slower, they seemed to drift farther and farther towards the far, dark corner of the room. Soon, they headed to a door hidden by floor length curtains and gaudy flower arrangements. Inevitably, they snuck out the back door.

My breathing stopped. After stepping through that door, I knew my wife was going to cheat on me. Soon, my princess would no longer be able to deny her betrayal. I was tired of her pleading innocence when I accused her of affairs. Knowing they would be watching the back door for possible witnesses, I decided to sneak around and surprise them. I rushed out the front door because I wanted to catch her in her deception.

Everyone had parked on the street because the reception hall didn't have its own parking lot. To the left, was an alley with a locked gate hiding the trash bins. To the right, a driveway to the back of the building was blocked by the caterer's truck. The waiters and cooks from Sid's Catering World were on parade in and out of their trucks. I silently cursed the caterer, as I turned left.

Thankfully, no one was out front as I climbed over the locked gate by the trash bins. I was lucky that my suit and tie didn't get snagged on the sharp edges of the gate that had gouged my hands. After dropping to the ground, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness as I stood in the alley. It stunk.

While stepping over wet boxes, bundles of wire and broken glass, my nostrils were filled with the stench of decay and urine. After passing by the garbage bins, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I carefully crept the rest of the way down the alley without making a sound.

When I got to the end of the alley, I peered around the corner of the building. Above me, a single floodlight attached to the soffit of the roof's overhang illuminated the back lot yet still left me in the shadows.

The lot was surrounded on all sides by the brick walls of two story buildings. The vacant buildings were devoid of windows but were pockmarked with graffiti. The lot was packed with old junk like old kitchen appliances, the skeleton of a rusted out delivery truck, and unmarked crates that haven't been opened in the last decade. The rest of the back lot was covered in high weeds and darkness.

As I stuck my head out further, I spotted my wife and the stranger on the stoop outside the back door. For the first time, I noticed the stranger was much taller than my petite wife. He could have easily picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder and carried her away. She couldn't do anything to stop him.

The stoop was hidden from the other alleyway by a brick wall and a locked gate but I had a good view from where I stood. Because the light above me was shining into their eyes, they couldn't see me but I could see them. Also, because of the acoustics of the stark brick walls surrounding the lot, I could clearly hear them. In this woeful setting, the two of them had isolated themselves. They thought they were alone.

In this dismal scene, I could hear the stranger hit on my wife, "I am having the best time tonight. I was going to leave right after I had a few drinks but then I saw you. You're the most beautiful woman I have ever met. When you smiled at me, you stole my breath away."

"Thank you. I never expected to have such a good time either."

"The only problem is that I wish your husband wasn't here."

"When I first got here, I was mad at him but, since I met you, I forgot about him. You have been distracting me. My husband hasn't been a problem, has he?"

"No, not at all. As a matter of fact, he didn't even tell me to move when he came to the table. He just sat there, stewing. I don't understand what are you doing with that oaf. If I was him, I would have fought for you...and won."

"My husband gets very jealous sometimes and I wanted to teach him a lesson. He always accuses me of cheating."

"He should be jealous. I haven't taken my eyes off of you since you walked through the front door. You're a sexy, desirable woman and I am very attracted to you."

His words proved my fears were real. From the shadows, I wanted to yell out, "See, I have every reason to be worried. He even told you himself. He is only after one thing."

But I didn't say anything. I just listened and watched to see what she would do next. Instead of realizing I was right, my wife dismissed his compliment and said, "You shouldn't be interested in me. There are plenty of pretty, unattached women here for you to meet."

"Yes, there are plenty of pretty women here but none of them are as beautiful as you. Also, they are very boring compared to you. When I am with you, I become blind to all other women. Besides, you make me laugh."

Enjoying the compliment, my wife grinned and said, "How do I make you laugh?"

"Like when you walked up to me and told me to buy you a drink because you're mad at your husband. Or, when we clandestinely followed your husband around while he was hunting for you. He's such a goof."

They both laughed at my buffoonery. Then he continued, "Or, like when you switched my place card at our table with your husband's. You didn't even try to hide your deception or any make excuses. Best of all, when you saw him, you grabbed my hand and put it on your thigh. He was so pissed."

For a moment, she looked embarrassed by being so forward but then she said apologetically, "I was really mad at my husband and I knew he would hate me sitting next to a handsome man who was interested in me. Especially, one that was touching me."

"After tonight, he's really going to hate you. He knows that I am very interested in you and I want to touch you so badly."

From the tone in his voice, I knew what was going to happen next. Like a panther leaping at it's prey, the stranger moved in and put his arms around my accommodating wife. He pressed her against the door and leaned down to kiss her. At the last moment, she turned her head to avoid him and playfully warned him, "Don't, someone may see us."

"No one can see us. We are alone and no one will ever know what happens back here. I want to kiss you. We both know you want to kiss me too."

Playfully, she deflected his advance, "Don't be so sure of yourself. I am older than you."

"You don't look like it but it doesn't matter to me. You're sexy."

With a flutter of her big, blue eyes, she teased, "You're just a baby. As a matter of fact, you're so young, I could be arrested if anything happened between us."

"You can stop worrying. I'm 21 so the government isn't going to care what we do together."

"My husband will care."

"He doesn't care either. He had his chance to stop us when we were inside but he didn't do anything. He didn't say a word to us all dinner. Even when I took you away, he never lifted a finger to stop me. He's a wimp."

With those last words, he must have gone too far because my wife defended me, "Don't call him names. He is my husband and I love him."

The stranger attempted to soothe her ruffled feathers, "How much can you love somebody who won't protect you? He was more worried about making a scene than trying to stop me from stealing you. Don't you remember, he let me walk away with you?"

Making excuses for me, my wife said, "True, he didn't fight for me. But maybe, I had wounded him too much when I asked you to sit next to me. Maybe, he knew I was already pissed at him and didn't want me to get madder."

"Then, why wouldn't he say word to you all dinner? Why would he just glare at you from across the table like a mad animal? Why would you want to be with somebody who treats you like that?"

She thought about it and started to see his point, "I don't know but, when he didn't say a word, I got madder. At that moment, all I wanted was an apology but he acted so high and mighty. When I saw that look on his face, I wanted to hurt him even more so I left the table with you. I shouldn't have done that but he made me so mad."

"Don't worry, I'm here to help you with both issues. I'll put a smile on your face and a frown on his."

Encouragingly, my wife pushed him away and said, "No, now that I think about it, I acted just as badly as he did. I changed my mind. I cannot stay out here with you. I'm married and my husband is inside waiting for me."

"You don't act like a married woman. When we were dancing, you were rubbing your sweet body all over me. You're a hot, sexy woman looking for love."

"I didn't mean to lead you on but I've had too much to drink. My husband always tells me I'm a lush when I drink."