No You Don't, in 750 Words

Another We Need To Talk story. The world doesn't have enough. 750 words, so yeah, the ending's a bit blunt. My focus was simply our hero's initial response, hence the open ending. Perfect opportunity to exercise your imagination. :)

I read Literotica Loving Wives--why else would I be sharing my story here? Fiction, the writers all say. Then it happened to me.

Thursday afternoon, my wife Sandra, 39, hit me. "Hon, we need to talk."

'Hon?' Crap.

I'm Robbie Gage, 42, IT director. Having read 293 LW stories, I knew what was coming. With a bottle of water, I sat. No alcohol. I'm stupid enough already.

She led with the usual preamble. "You know I love you--"

I stopped her cold. "You love me? Bullshit."

That, apparently, did not fit her vision of this encounter. She imitated a guppy lying on the ground after mistaking a baited hook for dinner. "What? What are you saying?"

"Bullshit, Sandra, you don't love me." As she took a breath, I continued. "Prove it. Go on, prove it. You never talk to me, always turn me down in bed, the last three times I wanted to take a weekend and go to the beach, you refused. You had to stay in town to go on your 'girls nights out.' So, before you continue on your patently rehearsed spiel, prove you love me. Because I say you don't, at least not anymore."

Again, the guppy gape.

I kept the offensive. "Remember when we were young, how you loved to try different positions, read books on how to improve our lovemaking? When we'd get into the car on a Sunday afternoon for a picnic somewhere secluded? How you wore sexy new underwear to get a rise out of me? When's the last time for any of that? I'll tell you."

I took out my phone. "Picnic: two summers ago. I noted three times you begged off because it was too much trouble, even when I said let's just get some KFC or something."

She took a swig of chardonnay.

I wasn't done. "Sexy underwear? The last time you modeled any for me was before Susan's wedding. Two years, I am not exaggerating. That's not the last time you bought sexy lingerie, though. Nope, you let Victoria share another Secret just a month ago. For whose benefit was that? Not mine.

"So, love? I don't think so."

A blush flushed Sandra's face. "Have you been snooping?" she sputtered.

"Abso-friggin-lutely. I pay the bills and I check for scammers and identity thieves. When I saw the Victoria's charge, yes, I did rummage through your closet, and yes, I found the latest buy and the receipt. Also found the other stuff you've been buying the last few months. Some even laundered. Who did you wear those for?"

"How could you?" she snorted. "You--"

"Whoa there, slut. That's my line. How could you spend $334.76 on lingerie the last eight months and hide them from the man you supposedly love? I see you undress every night and you've not taken off any of that crap in our bedroom. At least not when I was here. So, who have you been spreading your legs for?"

"What do you mean, who have I--"

"Very clear and easy question, babe. Zero rocket science required. Only a modicum of honesty. Don't try and bluster your way out of it. No woman spends that much on lingerie and never wears it. So, when and for whom?"

Sandra sputtered a few times, then sat back defeated. I didn't know if her 'we need to talk' was for a divorce or to tell me she was going to date--I hadn't given her the time to even get to the agenda for our meeting.

"Who is it? Derek Washington?"

"No! What makes you--"

"Brett Grainger?"

She hesitated.

"I see. He hasn't dumped you for Lizzy Smith... yet. He's keeping that up his sleeve to surprise you Monday."

"What? No--"

"Our marriage is toast already. I'll have you served here tomorrow."

"Nooooo!" she wailed like a two-year-old whose candy got ripped out of her hands.

"I don't need a reason to divorce you. See, you believe it's okay to fuck another guy while we're married and I don't. So we have a difference of opinion, an irreconcilable difference, and that's why I'm divorcing you. No fault state, remember? We split everything down the middle. Kids are gone, we make more or less the same, so no child support or alimony. I'll put the house up for sale tomorrow and we'll split the equity. The mortgage is almost paid off, so we'll do okay and have enough to buy something else. Hon."