Poetic Justice

I spent many days and even more sleepless nights trying to come up with a worthy reason why I'd done what I did. It took a whole month to arrive at a horrible conclusion. There wasn't one. I even spent hours on the net investigating the most common reasons, trying to identify with them, or even trying to build a plausible fake reason from them.

It wasn't lack of attention from my husband, or poor sex. I was satisfied, if a little bored with Dave's efforts in the bedroom. He'd mixed it up pretty well with a variety of long sensual sessions and quickies. It wasn't revenge on my part. It was obvious from the depth of Dave's pain that my desperate hope he'd strayed as well, wasn't true. Nor did I feel I was better than he and lost respect for him. It definitely wasn't an exit affair.

No, the only conclusion I could come up with was that I cheated because I could. I felt entitled and invulnerable and seized an opportunity for excitement on the side. As hard as I looked, I couldn't find a more plausible reason. Finally, after more than a month, I requested a sit down with him. It was the night before he left for a week-long trip. I hoped he would spend the week assessing his options and conclude that the status quo was the better choice than losing everything he held dear. The audience lasted all of ten minutes. I looked him in the eye and told him that I had no excuse. Better that than the real reason. Trouble is that I'd forgotten Dave's instruction to me. He was looking for a reason so he could trust me going forward. I remembered only when he shook his head and walked away. He was gone on his trip when I got up the next day.

JOHN

With a plan to resurrect my flagging libido, I snuck over to Wendy's house during a workday. She was horrified that I would risk Dave's wrath by being there but ushered me quickly inside. I spent an hour begging and pleading my case, but she flatly refused. She felt confident that Dave would come around eventually but if he caught a sniff of further cheating then all bets were off.

She even stuck to her guns after admitting she was horny due to her longest drought in years. That gave me the seed of a plan. After she told me Dave was away for the rest of the week, I guilted her into going to dinner the following night. Just to 'talk'. That night I talked quietly to some of the seedier guys at work and left with two ecstasy tablets. If I could relax her enough to remove her inhibitions, then I could still have my therapy session.

She arranged for a babysitter. I gave Jen an excuse and Wendy and I met at a restaurant across town. Wendy dressed as she always did when going out. Sexy and revealing. I could feel my excitement growing and at the first opportunity, slipped a tab into her wine. It took a couple of minutes but soon she was visibly relaxed and didn't object when I held her hand across the table. I was glad I'd booked a room in the motel across the street. Just to be on the safe side, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and once there, popped a Cialis myself.

On the way back to the table, I grinned as I saw a couple in a booth at the back. Tucked away in a hard to see position, they were taking full advantage of the arrangement. Their lips were locked together, and the guy had one hand under the table. No prizes for guessing what it was doing there. Just as I turned the corner to my table, the woman broke lips and looked furtively over her shoulder. I stopped dead.

It was Jen. My Jen.

Completely on autopilot, I stormed over and said, "What the fuck!"

Jen just smiled at me, the bitch, and said, "What's the problem? Don't we have an open marriage anymore, limp dick?"

In humiliated rage, I reached over and hauled the guy to his feet, throwing a punch at his face. In slow motion I saw him turn his head, causing my punch to glance harmlessly off. Too late, I saw his height and his muscles. The last thing I saw, before waking in an ambulance, was a huge fist coming straight towards my eyes. The policeman who read me my rights in the hospital bed was the same one who took my statement the last time I was there.

They kept me overnight in case of concussion, then I was escorted to the police station and formally charged with assault. It was late afternoon when I finally made it home, only to find my key didn't fit the locks anymore. I shouted and threatened Jenny through the keyhole but all she did was slip a large envelope under the door at me. Soon after, the large guy from the previous night arrived, so I ran like hell. He followed me to my car and threw the envelope in after me.

I'd never felt so humiliated in my life. Not just by the ease with which I'd been totally defeated by this guy, but by the fact that Jenny had given herself so totally to him. That much was obvious from the restaurant.

When I finally opened the envelope, I found the divorce petition charging adultery. Evidence? A signed statement from Dave Brown. I tried to be angry at him but just couldn't do it. If this was anything like he felt, then I deserved everything I got.

WENDY

When John came to the back door, I was terrified that someone would see him and let Dave know. I shuffled him inside, then immediately worried how I would get rid of him. I listened to his tale of erectile disfunction with some sympathy but mainly with amazement. As a woman, I hadn't really grasped the damage I'd done to my husband's ego with my actions. John did. It was eating him up from the inside, clearly. John filling that knowledge gap showed me I had an even bigger job of reconciliation than I thought.

I did want to help him, sure, and not just from empathy. I was feeling horny from the enforced abstinence and Dave's implication that I was ugly on the inside had cut me to the quick. Still, I was strong and resisted John's advances. I got him to leave well before the kids were due home by promising to go out with him the next night. After a month of extreme pressure, I needed to relax anyway. I enlisted my sister as a babysitter, she and Dave never talked, then headed out to meet John on the other side of town. To boost my confidence, I'd chosen a dress I knew made me look good. Not being stupid, I wore a coat over it until I was well away from the house. I carefully scanned the restaurant for familiar faces. I had a clear view of all but a couple of cosy corners right at the back.

It was actually fun, and I eventually relaxed. I'd vowed to only have one glass of wine, but when I returned from the bathroom to find John had ordered a refill, I went for it. Within ten minutes, a warm glow was suffusing my body and I found myself grinding my legs together. John reached across the table and took my hand. The human contact felt electric. Relaxing further by the minute, I finished the glass when John excused himself to go to the bathroom. I realised much later that John must have spiked my drink.

I watched him returning. Smiling as he approached. Suddenly, something toward the back of the restaurant caught his attention. He grinned briefly before his face suddenly fell. I watched, bemused, as he changed course, walked straight up to a guy at a back table and grabbed him by both lapels before throwing a punch at him. Even in my fuzzy state I thought that was stupid. The guy was significantly bigger than John. I watched the inevitable happen and John hit the floor like he was poleaxed after one punch in return. Confused as all hell, I looked at the guy towering over John, then at his dinner companion. I saw Jenny looking at me, slowly shaking her head. A look of what I could only interpret as pity on her face.

In the last moments before whatever drug John slipped me took full effect, I felt a humiliation like I'd felt when Dave first caught me and John together. Instinctively, I headed to the nearest exit. Of all the escape routes I could have taken, fate led me to that one. The restaurant was in one corner of an old hotel. The exit I'd chosen took me through the public bar. Unfamiliarly high as a kite, scantily dressed, sans wedding ring and horny, this particular lamb was dropped into the wolf pack.

My memory is very hazy of the next hour. I think someone grabbed me and dragged me onto the dance floor. He was good looking and I loved dancing, so didn't resist enough. Glimpses of drinking, dancing, talking and more drinking come to my nightmares even today. I do remember several guys suggesting we go somewhere else, but I retained enough control to beat them off. What got through my defences in the end, were two guys acting in tandem. One of them pulled me into his lap, facing away from him while his mate kissed me. Any thoughts of resistance disappeared when the seated guy encircled me with both arms and grabbed a breast in each hand. I melted. After an unknown amount of time, and to some cheering, I was led out to the carpark by both guys. I was the most excited I'd ever been. Two guys together was my ultimate fantasy.

If only I'd just gone along with them, life may have taken an entirely more benign course. We reached their car, a big one but don't ask me what type. They both kissed and groped me for a while before one guy opened a back door. The other lifted my dress, ripped off my panties and pushed me backwards onto the rear seat. The shock of the cold leather on my buttocks shocked me into near sobriety. If Dave ever found out about this, my ideal world, my utopia, was gone forever. The guy above pushed me all the way down and roughly entered me. I tried to push him away, but he just pushed back harder, grabbed a wrist in each hand and pinned them above my head. That must have excited him because before I knew it he was grunting in orgasm. I could feel the pig twitching inside me. That spurred me to greater effort and I freed one hand, reached up and raked his face with my fingernails. All I got for my troubles was him slapping me very hard. It stunned me and made my ears ring.

Through my daze, I registered a sudden cacophony of noise and brilliant blue lights. Both me and the guy still inside me looked over his shoulder. Parked end on to us was a police car. As we watched, the passenger of the police car took down my assailant's mate. The guy in me pulled out and tried to escape as well. His trousers around his ankles impeded him long enough for the driver to collar him. I tried to hide my face from the growing crowd, motivated by only one thing. Dave could never find out about this.

More police cars arrived and bundled the two guys away. I was invited, forcibly, to the station to make a statement. I was in the original squad car and during the drive I regained enough of my sensibilities that I told the cop I didn't want to press charges against anyone. He said, "Lady, you've been watching too many Yank cop shows. It doesn't work like that here. I saw him hit you, that's enough for us. Besides, we know he's been dealing for years but have never been able to pin anything on him. Thank you for handing him to us on a plate."

On arrival at the station, I rang my sister, who was fine to stay the night. The duty medical examiner was called, and my face and privates were examined. A BAC test was made, 0.12. A blood sample was taken. He left me with an ice pack to minimise the bruising on the side of my face. The police wanted me to go along with a rape charge. I briefly contemplated hiding behind that but there were many witnesses to say I'd gone out to the carpark of my own free will. Besides, I just wanted all this to go away. I told them it was consensual. Yes, there were drugs involved, but they hadn't been administered by them. I refused to tell them who did. That way led to John being charged, which led to Jen... Fuck, Jen already saw us together. What was all that in the restaurant? I could only pray Jen didn't say anything to Dave. I signed my statement telling the truth about what happened in the car, downplaying anything that may have smacked of rape. The media always jumped on that. I denied witnessing the fight in the restaurant.

I watched Dave when he came back, but his behaviour was unchanged, thank God. As he never looked at me anymore, it was easy to apply makeup and hide the bruise on my face. Life settled into the routine of Dave coming home late each workday, taking the kids out on weekends and the kids spending more and more time at their friend's houses. I did corner Dave once and he did confirm that my lack of a reason for straying made it impossible for him to convince himself it wouldn't happen again. Still, I had hopes.

Invitations to social functions continued to dry up and I became a virtual recluse. Nothing I tried with Dave made the slightest difference. My parents and family did press me on everything, but I just told them Dave and I were going through a rough patch. I begged them to leave us to work it out and not approach Dave. I could only pray that things would slowly normalise, and I could return to being a respected mother, even if I never fully recovered Dave's full love.

I was just starting to relax a month after the pub debacle as I called it, when I had a shocking visitor. It was the Monday after Dave spent the weekend away for a work conference. I opened the door to an unfamiliar woman, who looked to be about five years younger than me. Pretty, in a girl-next-door kind of way. She was polite, calling me Mrs. Brown and asked if she could come in for a chat. I agreed, and she, Susan, started rabbiting on about a friend of hers that began a relationship with a guy who supposedly was separated from his wife. After three months, they were confronted by an irate wife who was totally unaware that she and her husband were indeed separated. The fact that her friend was 'the other woman' shamed her for years and made a big impression on Susan. When I asked what the point was, she told me that she and Dave had been dating for a month and she just wanted to know if what he said was mutually agreed. That he'd caught me having an affair and we were emotionally, if not physically, separated. She interpreted all she needed to know from my automatically downcast eyes and the fact I stopped talking. I rallied a little in the silence.

"If you're asking for my blessing to sleep with MY husband then it will be a cold day in hell before I give it."

She just smiled at me with a little pity.

"Oh, I slept with him this weekend. I just wanted to make sure of the lie of the land before I got in any deeper."

"Did Dave put you up to this? To make me jealous?"

"No. He doesn't even know I'm here and I would appreciate you keeping it that way."

With that, she left. I couldn't imagine being more humiliated. Yes, I could. If I'd come home and found Dave in bed with her. Just like he'd done with me. For the first time, the full weight of what I'd done hammered into me. I kept to myself for the next two days and ended up rationalising that Dave was only doing this to teach me a lesson and once delivered, things would return to normal.

That particular delusion lasted until five weeks after the bar incident. I was served a summons to testify against my assailant. Thankfully, it was done when I was alone in the house. I drew the maximum amount of cash out at an ATM, three days in a row and quietly went to see a lawyer. No, I couldn't wriggle out of testifying. All I could do was hope like hell that the trial occurred during a busy news week and attracted no attention.

The trial lasted only a day and I faced it absolutely alone. Not being able to share the story with any friends or family members. It was a horrible experience. I was the first prosecution witness and was led through events starting when I entered the bar and ending when I was slapped. Photos of my face were even entered into evidence.

The defence lawyer was ruthless. He tendered my BAC results, the presence of ecstasy in my blood and four witness statements to my behaviour. He was obviously trying to make me look like a slut so his client looked comparatively better. I sat down, after at least an hour in the dock, shaking in humiliation. Frustrated because I'd never been given an opportunity to deny taking the drugs voluntarily. I stayed for the rest of the day just to see how bad it would be.

I don't know whose witness he was, but the policemen who'd driven me to the station was called. The fact that I was struggling before the slap, was good. The graphic description he gave of the cum running down my legs after I stood up, not so good. I left when the jury was sequestered, everyone knowing the result for the accused was inevitable.

Still in a daze as I exited the courthouse, I ran full tilt into three television crews. I blotted them out of my consciousness and just ran. The story had all the ingredients to make it a hit. Married mother of two going alone into a bar, going with two guys to a car in the carpark for group sex, and a juicy assault to top it off. I wandered around in an absolute daze until I found myself parked outside my house late at night. I wandered in like a condemned prisoner on his way to the gallows, but no one else was home. I listened to the message bank on the landline just to see if they'd rung to say where they were. My cell phone was still turned off from court.

The first message was from my mother, letting me know in no uncertain terms what she thought of me. I didn't listen to the other seven messages. I drank myself into a stupor and was basically unconscious when Dave and the kids arrived back home. His only acknowledgement that he knew about the court case was the glare that he directed at me at first meeting.

It was a Saturday and by the time I awoke, hungover, Dave and the kids were gone. A note said they'd gone camping and would be back the following night. Vague memories of Dave mentioning it came to mind, but I'd been so distracted the last few days that nothing had penetrated far.

When I had the strength, I started listening to the messages on the home line and cell. The total was up to fifteen by then. Most, like my mother's, were former friends telling me what they thought of me for doing that to Dave. That confused me. Several were from people supposedly offering support. After ringing the second of those, I concluded they just wanted the juicy details. One of them did clear up the confusion though. The scuttlebutt amongst our friends group was that Dave and I had been estranged for months because I demanded the right to screw around outside the marriage.

New enemy or supposed friends alike, it was obvious that I'd lost the respect of just about everyone I'd ever known. That hit me harder than anything else I could think of. My ego had really relied on my queen like status amongst the community. With one party and one visit to a restaurant I'd become a social pariah.

When Dave got home, I tried to explain what had happened at the hotel and in the carpark. How I'd been drugged, probably by John then exited through the wolf pack. Therefore, nothing that happened in the hotel was my fault or my choice. He shut me down with one or two questions, very soon after I began my explanation.

"Wendy, you knew I was wondering how to trust you again. Why would you sneak off with your lover again while I was out of town?"

"Darling, he begged me to go out with him. Refused to leave our house the day before until I agreed. I was terrified someone would see us, and you'd find out. Please believe, I had no intention of sleeping with him."

"And yet you went to a restaurant, with another man, without your husband's knowledge or consent, dressed like a slut."

Before I could come up with a response for his very valid three points, he'd risen and gone.

That night, at dinner, it was even worse. All my kids could talk about was how much fun they'd had with Susan and her children. I recognised the name from her visit, although I hadn't remembered it until then. Dave steadfastly refused my demands of another conversation until the Wednesday night of that week. He initiated it, which should have aroused my suspicions, but didn't.