Roller Coaster Ride Ch. 15

I jokingly asked, "So, did you meet anyone cute? Add anyone to your list of conquests?" "Not really," she answered in an honest-sounding voice, "I did dance with one, and he came backstage after the show to see if he could talk me into something, but I laughed and told him I was married. After all, we were there to work, not play... but you and I can play now."

I wish I hadn't followed the wrong scent, but what she was saying was true as far as I knew. I like to play, and I especially like to play with my gorgeous wife, so I took her up on her offer. She was Katy, wet and tight, with no indication that anyone else had been there earlier, so I shut down my imagination and went to work... or rather, to play. We had fun.

Lulled by her attention and commitment to our family for the next three days, I almost didn't bother to verify. In fact, I wouldn't have, if we hadn't been ready for bed, sitting in the living room, when I heard a ding on her phone. She glanced down to read the message, which made her blush first and then quickly delete it. She never looked up, and when I asked who that was that texted her, she said it was Joyce, just being silly about practice tomorrow.

Without further comment, I continued my graduate work, and then went to bed. She followed me ten minutes later. I was 'asleep', lying on my side, facing away from her; she petted my shoulder, but laid down and was soon asleep.

I got out of bed, took her phone from the charger, and read her deleted messages. There were messages since the dance, but the ones I needed began earlier today, while she was at school. "I can't quit thinking about you! That was the hottest kiss I've ever gotten in my life!"

"I shouldn't have done that. I'm a married woman with a jealous husband. You're cute, but we can't get together again. Besides, are you even old enough to drink?"

"I'm a very old and wise nineteen, not that it matters. I may be young in age, but you wouldn't be the first married woman I was with - just the most beautiful!"

"Old and wise nineteen, with plenty of experience with married lovers? You some kind of Don Juan?"

"Hardly, but for some reason my long, lean body seems to appeal to women five or ten years older, and I actually prefer more mature women over girls my age."

"Lunch is over - have to get back to class. Bye."

"Bye bye - I can't wait!"

It picked up in a similar vein after school was over, before she taught her exercise class. It was mostly-innocent flirtation, but her agreeing to see him after practice 'just to talk about why she couldn't go out with him' wasn't so innocent. Pissed now, even with nothing much to go on than a meeting that my possibly be improper, I rearranged tomorrow in my mind.

Then I stewed about the undying allegiance she had so recently sworn.

The practice was almost perfunctory. They have the dances and songs down pat, and watching them practice to recording without a crowd, I got the impression they were almost bored. They finished in record time, without the usual re-dos of little things that bothered Katy.

As soon as they finished, she told everyone she would close up so they could leave. They thanked her and walked to their vehicles talking about getting through early and having to work tomorrow.

The pickup drove into the parking lot just as Katy finished locking up. She went directly to it and climbed in on the passenger side before the driver finished opening his door. There was a streetlight behind them, so could see their silhouettes perfectly from the shadows around the corner of the building where I was standing, so I tested the school's $3000 low light digital camera. I was confident they wouldn't mind me using it, since it was purchased by the AD, and I was the AD. Besides, I was only using electrons and battery.

My wife sat on the passenger side for a while, and I could hear their voices through the open windows, but couldn't make out their words. Her tone was hard to distinguish, but his sounded like wheedling or pleading. Ten minutes had passed; I had a couple of pictures, but so far nothing damaging had happened - other than the whole damn meeting.

I couldn't see expressions on their faces, but the camera had excellent definition of their bodies above the dashboard.

Two minutes later, the cowboy slid across the seat of his pickup toward Katy, and put his arm around her shoulders. She remained still, facing the windshield, but didn't do the right thing and get out.

The next five pictures I got were a slow-motion capture of my marriage going back down the drain. He held her chin with his left hand, turned her face toward him, and kissed her. After a moment or so, she placed her right hand behind his head, and turned her body toward him; I watched on the small screen, capturing images as they changed position.

His left hand dropped from her chin and disappeared; a few seconds later, she shifted around in his arms, and his right hand fell across her chest to her tits. The camera was recording it all; most importantly, her active participation.

Soon, she was lying back against the seat, and his mouth was over the area of her breasts. His head fell lower down, and I could see her naked boobs, glistening in the light from the street lamp. She had one arm across her eyes, and the other laying limply to her side.

After some movement on her part, something was laid on the dashboard; I focused in on it and decided it was her practice uniform. He kicked his door open and I saw his boots and jeans hanging out, but the interior lights didn't come on.

Her head slumped against the door, then below the dashboard, and I knew he was eating her out! That lasted no more than two minutes, before she suddenly sat up, grabbed the garb on the dash, and they began talking in animated tones.

She got out, pulled her clothing and shoes on, and walked quickly to her car, crying all the way. I walked around the building, got in my car, and took off for home.

Along the way I wondered why I didn't got kick his ass, but realized I don't have a marriage to fight for. Katy's promises are made to be broken, so what I have to decide is whether I'll suffer through it for the boys, or do what I should and kick her ass out!

Or, third option; ignore it and get all the retribution pussy I can. That sounded best, for right now.

I was waiting up when she came in; she quickly averted her eyes and was a little too stiff when I took her in my arms and kissed her. Ignoring her reaction, I asked about practice, got an 'it was fine' answer, and then offered to help her shower.

"I do need a shower, but I'm really tired, so I want to take it alone and then go to bed. We can play tomorrow, I promise."

Feigning disappointment, I ask, "So, just you girls? None of your admirers or young boyfriends showed up to watch?"

She covered the guilt with resentment. "Why do you always ask me stuff like that! I'm tired of it!"

"Uhh, because your psychiatrist suggested I check up on you to make sure temptation isn't getting a fresh hold, and it seems better to ask than to follow you wherever you go. Remember the part about needing to be able to trust you?"

She growled, mumbled, slammed the door in my face, and turned on the shower.

I walked away from the door, went to the boys' room and stood over them. I loved them to no end, and I wouldn't ever willingly be separated from them. Their mother, however...

After kissing each, I walked out of the house, got in my car, sent a copy of the photos to her cell phone, and drove away. I turned off the Find My Phone app, turned off my phone, got a room at a hotel outside town, and considered her continuing 'lack of progress' in controlling her sluttiness. This is not on me, I reminded myself, turned on my side, and went to sleep.

I didn't get up until 10 am, made a cup of coffee, and turned my phone back on. There were literally dozens of messages and voicemails from Katy, each more agitated than the last. I was preparing to begin erasing them when the phone rang; I declined, and turned the ringer off. Luckily I had taken a change of clothes in case it rained, so I took a bath, got dressed, and got in my car.

With nowhere to go or be, I just started riding; out the highway, left on a farm to market road, and then back to the right, heading east. I had no idea where I was, nor did I care; I was just killing time and thinking. I pulled over at an old steel bridge, and sent a copy of last night's adventures to Katy's psychiatrist with the note "Just FYI. This was last night. She came home and lied to me about it."

I noticed I had more messages, but I ignored them and kept driving. I came out at the 'Country Club' golf course, rode through the small housing development, and took another back road toward town. I decided I'd need more clothes, wherever I stayed, so I wanted to see if my wife was gone yet. I didn't want to see or talk to her, but I did want my clothes, so something had to give.

My phone vibrated yet again with a message, so I peeked at the preview on the screen. It wasn't Katy; it was Brooke. She simply said, "Call me". I ignored that too, assuming Katy was involved. Katy's Tahoe wasn't at the house, so I pulled in, got a couple of changes of clothing, my shaving kit, and my laptop, and left again.

Britt's face came on the screen; I ignored it. Katy called again; I ignored it. My brother called; I picked up.

"What's happening in south Texas, Bro?" I asked jovially. "So, you're all right, I guess. You have your wife pretty worried..." he answered.

"Yeah little trouble in Paradise; she's on my blocked call list for the time being" I informed him.

"Okay, but why don't you send her a text and let her know you're all right. She's pretty upset" he replied convincingly.

"Well, I would, but my give a shit's broken. Feel free to call her and tell her I'm fine, but to leave me the fuck alone and it'll all be just peachy" I tell him jovially.

"So, you aren't going to call her or something?" he asks.

"Or something, yes; block her calls" I reply.

"All right, man, I get it. I'll let her know you're alive and well but not too happy so she will stop calling down here," he informs me.

"Cool!" I reply "Thanks! Remember the part about 'leave me the fuck alone' too, okay?" And I hang up.

I'm 10 miles from town heading east, so I pull over, block Katy's phone, and then proceed another 20 miles to a nice motel in the larger town to the east. I get a 'business' room, bring in my laptop, and set it up on the desk. My phone keeps buzzing, even with Katy blocked, so I turn it over and see missed calls from her parents, from Britt and Angie, and another from Brooke; she's pulling all the strings.

I get online and start looking at field event results and time by runners at other schools in our region, getting a feel for what we'll face at the area meet. The phone buzzes again, I look down, and see Dr. Charles. I pause; I look at it for a moment, then answer. She immediately says, "Tim! Oh, thank goodness. Thanks for taking my call!"

"What can I do for the good doctor?" I respond.

"You can go home and talk to your wife; I'm very concerned about her state of mind!" she replies earnestly.

"You mean you are afraid, what, she'll kill herself?" I ask nonchalantly, "You shouldn't be; that selfish bitch is fine with hurting other people, but she ain't gonna hurt herself. Didn't you look at the photos I sent?"

A long pause "Yes, I did. I understand that you are upset, I really do, and I understand why. What she did is..." she paused again, and I jump in "I think 'unforgiveable' is the word you're reaching for."

Another pause "That may be the word for you; only you can decide that; I was going to say 'reprehensible'. But, please, go tell her. She is in agony, and..."

I interrupt again "Sorry, Dr. Charles, but my give-a-shit is broken. How do you think I felt while I filmed that?

"I've given all I can give, I've taken all I can take; I have nothing left to give or say. I don't need yet another apology. 'I'm sorry' and 'I promise" are convenient phrases she repeats, then immediately forgets why. I'd like to just hate her, but, in fact, I'm completely devoid of feelings toward her. She's drained me of all emotion where she is concerned. So, NO, I won't go talk to her. Not now, not in the foreseeable future."

The good doctor replies, "Every drunk falls off the wagon; every addict relapses at least once. Living with one isn't easy. Sounds like you've decided to give it up, and I won't try to convince you otherwise. I'm not giving up on her; she can learn to control her cravings, but it may not be while she's in a marriage with you. Goodbye, Tim, and good luck."

I hang up. An addict? What, a fucking addict, or a fucking addict? A slut who likes to fuck more than she cares for her family and husband is now 'an addict'? Someone can lie, betray you, seduce a stranger and agree to keep meeting him on the sly, but I'm the bad guy because I don't accept her 'addiction'? WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF PSYCHOBABBLE IS THAT BULLSHIT?!

Restless and pissed I leave the room and walk over to the club next door. I order a beer, change it to double bourbon, and have two while I process the horseshit I just had dumped on me. 'Sex Addict'? Who the fuck marries a 'sex addict' who can't keep other men's organs out of her orifices? Sneaky, slimy, serpent of a woman, like Eve!

"Bring me another double!" I order the bartender, and toss it back. "Another!"

He tells me, "You need to give me a card or pay up, because you won't be coherent much longer. You aren't driving, are you?"

"No, I'm staying across the parking lot in room 111. So, here's my card - give me another double!"

And so it goes until I can barely sit on the stool. I never start talking, just drink and hurt inside. Suddenly I feel arms around my waist, and someone is supporting me on the stool. Trying to turn to see who it is makes me almost fall, so I grab the bar and straighten myself. I see black hair and blonde hair, but no faces.

I let myself down from the stool, hold onto the bar, and hear the bartender say, "He set the state record for double bourbons tonight, and still hasn't passed out. Hell of a drinker, but what the hell happened? He ain't no drunk - he's hurt and pissed! What did one of you do to him?"

The voices behind me are indistinct, but female; the bartender says "Room 111, next door. Here's his keys and card."

My arms draped over their shoulders, I have the blonde under my right arm and the black haired one under my left as we motivate circuitously toward the motel. Once inside I flop on the bed, tell them something like "thanks, but now you can fuckin' go - I fuckin' HATE women!" and roll on my side.

I don't remember anything else until the sun wakes me by shining through the window. I start, sit upright, my head explodes, and I lie back down. My stomach is also churning, so I stagger into the bathroom and hug the commode while I puke my guts out. Luckily, I haven't eaten in two days, so it's liquid, not chunky.

Where am I, and how did I get here? I ask myself, as I search for Advil. As I throw back four tablets my memory returns, and it hits me that it is Monday morning, and I need to be at work. But that isn't going to happen; I feel like hell, and I smell worse. Where's my phone? I need to call in sick, or rather, text in sick!

I pick up my phone and find a text to the superintendent telling him I caught something bad and I need a day off; his reply is to get well - we've got you covered... when did I do that?

I get in the shower and run hot, then cold water on myself, then repeat. When I walk back into the room naked I encounter the blonde and black haired women from last night, sitting on the other bed; it's Katy and Joyce. My anger overrides my headache and bellyache, and I blurt fiercely "What the fuck are you two doing here? Get the fuck out of my room!"

"No" replies Katy, and Joyce says, "We're here to help you, not hurt you. Please let us stay." I glare at both of them, turn, and get dressed facing away from them. When I finish I start to the door, but Katy and Joyce stand in front of it: "Five minutes - that's all we ask" says Katy.

"Do you think you have some magic words that will erase the memories of what you did from my mind? I promise you that you don't! And you, the slut's friend - didn't you promise me you would keep an eye on her? Fuck both of you!!!" I shout.

Katy says calmly, "I don't have magic words, Tim. If I had magic I'd use it, but all I want a chance to explain and..."

I cut her off "Explain? Explain? What do you hope to explain, my former wife? Did someone drug you and drag you to the truck? Did he rape you?

"Your explanation is 'No, Tim, I seduced him at Hallettsville, gave him my phone number, and agreed to meet him after practice so we could fuck.'

"That IS the only explanation, bitch, because I heard it and saw it happen!!!"

Joyce starts weeping quietly; Katy remains stoic and says, "Tim, I'm..." but she doesn't get any further, "DO NOT SAY I'M SORRY! I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DO, YOU LYING SACK OF SHIT!" I yell in her face.

She finally looks intimidated and promises, "Okay, I won't. Is there anything I can say to help?"

"Yes," I reply "Goodbye! Now, get the fuck out of here and leave me alone!"

"No" Katy replies, and Joyce looks at her like she's crazy. "I won't, because your reaction proves that you still love me. I have no excuse; I have no reason; I can't apologize because you won't let me. You walking away, sending me the pictures, and then disappearing, though, taught me a hard, hard lesson.

"I love you more than life itself. Yes, I'm self-destructive, I almost got you killed, and I betrayed you again in the most cruel way possible, when you least expected it.

"I found out that, instead of just going home from the track meet, you drove all the way over there and watched the show from the shadows, clapping and cheering with everyone else. You watched me dance with Terry, overheard him talking to his friends because you were at the next table, and let me hook up with him backstage.

"I know all that because Elliot saw you while he was filming the crowd, and he told me this afternoon when he sent me the video of our dancing."

She takes a deep breath, and continues. "I'm hopeless; even Dr. Charles is giving up on me. But I am not a good reason for you to leave your house and your boys! I'm the one who needs to leave, and I will.

"Joyce has an extra room; I'll move in with her today. At school I'll keep away from you; we can be cordial in front of others, but I won't ask anything of you. I'll leave my car at the house and Joyce will take and bring me, so the gossip won't start and ruin your career.

"When school is out, I'll resign, go on the tour, and see what happens for us as entertainers. Maybe we'll be a success, more likely we will crash and burn. But it won't be on you. You have literally dozens of better women than me that will jump at the chance to take my place; I know one of them will make you happy, and that's all I want - no, that's not all I want, but it is all I can hope for.

"So, goodbye, sweet Tim, the only man I've ever loved; I don't deserve you, and you deserve someone like Susan who will die before she will hurt you."

With that she touches my cheek softly, and leaves. Joyce is sobbing as they walk away.

I make my way to the restaurant and eat breakfast; Advil on an empty stomach is bad, and I need sustenance after so long without. After gathering my things from the room, I drive back home, to an empty house. Much of Katy's clothing is gone, and all her makeup. I pull my phone out, turn the ringer on, and call Betsy to confirm the boys are there. I tell her that I'm coming over to pick them up now, because I have the rest of the day off.