Slick Ch. 01

Ok, so this one is different for me. The idea just hit me and I went with it. Hope you like it.

I parked a couple of rows back and about a dozen spaces over from my wife's car, with an unobstructed view of the front door to the Happy Life Yoga Studio. I watched her enter the building, dressed in a pair of skin-tight, pink Lululemon exercise pants and matching bare-midriff top that looked more like a sports bra than an outer garment. She bounced happily, and empty-handed, as she went inside. She apparently didn't need the bag of clothes and the water bottle that she'd put in the trunk after all.

I waited.

It didn't take long.

About five minutes after she when in, Jude, my wife of twenty-two years came walking back out. She wasn't alone. He was with her.

Marcel Beaufils, self-proclaimed Yogi and head of the Happy Life Yoga Studio walked arm-in-arm with my loving wife. I hated him. I'd hated him from the first moment I'd laid eyes on him. Actually, I probably hated him before that, just from having to listen to Jude ramble on, incessantly, about how great he was.

Jude held Marcel's arm with both hands and leaned her head on his shoulder. Even from this distance, I could see the smiles on their faces as they reached her car. He got in the passenger side, and Jude got in to drive. I watched her start the car and exit the parking lot, heading in the direction of the freeway. I let them get far enough ahead so that they would not see me following, then headed out after them. I didn't have to stay in sight. The GPS tracker gave me constant and accurate updates of their location.

I was disappointed, but not completely surprised when Jude pulled into the parking lot of the Marriott Hotel. Well, at least if she was going to cheat on me, she was not doing it in a fleabag motel. They parked and exited the vehicle, then embraced briefly. Marcel went to kiss my wife, but she turned her head, and his lips struck her cheek. Jude looked apprehensive. I'm sure she was blushing.

Marcel had my wife's hand and was leading her to the main entrance of the hotel, but Jude was not following him. She seemed to be pulling him back, hesitating. Was she having second thoughts?

They stood close together, talking animatedly. Jude used her hands a lot when she was nervous. I hadn't seen her hands moving that much since she had to give a speech at the monthly PTA meeting last April. She gestured off to her right. Marcel nodded, and the two would-be lovebirds entered the attached restaurant, instead of the hotel proper.

I gave them a few minutes to get settled; then I made my way into the Hotel lobby. I checked the place out, looking for all the entrances and exits, where people were working, and making a mental note of the location of security cameras. I walked down a corridor on the right side of the foyer that led past a convenience store and the business center.

I hesitated when I reached the end of the hallway and the entrance to the restaurant. It stood open, with a small, unattended podium for a hostess station. Given it was three o'clock in the afternoon, the place was pretty empty, so I didn't expect to see anyone manning the checkpoint. There was a small notice taped to the front of the stand that read "Seat yourself."

I looked carefully around the doorway for any signage. Nothing stood out. By law, if the establishment made at least 51% of its revenue from the sale of alcohol, they were required to put a sign up at every entrance stating so. There wasn't one. Out of habit, my hand patted the hard metallic object held under my sports coat.

I scanned the dining room. An older gentleman was sipping on a cup of coffee, reading the sports page. A young Hispanic couple with an infant were eating burgers on the next row over. As I said, the place was pretty empty. When I reached the middle of the room, a server came out from the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, wiped her hands on her apron and approached me.

"Hi, just one?" she asked with a painted-on smile.

"Actually," I replied, "I'm meeting some friends for drinks." I gestured to the small lounge area by the bar. The server nodded and went to check on one of the diner's needs. I drifted towards the bar and saw them huddled close together in a booth, with their backs to me. I walked slowly to their table. As I drew closer, I could start to hear bits of their conversation.

"You know you want to touch it," Marcel said with his fake French accent. "You know your husband does not have anything like this."

Jude was sitting close to the wall with Marcel pressed to her side. He had his arm around her shoulder, and she was leaning against him.

"Oh my God," Jude exclaimed, "I've never felt one that big before. I don't know if I'm ready to..."

"Ready to what?" I asked as I sat down next to Marcel shoving him over to make room for me, and trapping them both inside the booth.

"Hey! What the fuck!" Marcel blurted out as he quickly turned to see who had intruded on his seduction. I found it humorous that in his excitement, he lost his accent. When he saw me, he also lost all the color in his face, and his eyes bugged out. Jude jerked her hand from Marcel's lap and covered her mouth as she let out a small shriek.

"Bill!" she cried out, "What are you doing here?" She seemed to realize her predicament, then added, "It's not what you think!"

I laughed. "I wondered if you were going to say that. That's pretty funny, Jude, pretty damn funny. Unfortunately, I know what this is."

Two plastic room keys were laying on the table. One in front of Marcel and the other in front of my wife was still sticking out of the little folder emblazoned with the Mariott logo. I reached across Marcel and snatched it up.

"Room 405," I read out loud. "You guys run out of space at the studio and need to hold private classes in a hotel room?"

"I should go," Marcel said, trying to push me out of the booth.

"You should sit here and shut the fuck up," I countered, pushing him back down in the seat as he had tried to force his way out. "Don't make a scene."

"Bill, it's not as bad as it looks, I swear to you," Jude protested, desperately trying to downplay the situation. "I haven't cheated on you!"

I picked up Marcel's matching room key and held them both up with a puzzled look on my face. "You forgot the word, 'yet,' Jude. You haven't cheated on me, yet."

"I haven't! We haven't don't anything," she said, stammering. "I-I'm sorry, Bill. I lost my head. I didn't know what I was doing."

"I should go," Marcel repeated, this time with a perfect Texas drawl.

"Shut up, shithead," I snarled under my breath. "And what you were doing, Jude, was feeling up Slick's dick here, wasn't she, Slick?"

"I don't want to get involved," Marcel said nervously. I swear he looked like he was about to cry. "This is between you two. Let me go. I don't want any problems."

I laughed again. "It's a little late for not wanting to get involved, Slick. You didn't seem to mind getting involved with my wife, so long as I didn't find out. How many other wives at your studio have you seduced, Slick?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Marcel said, feigning innocence.

"He's not like that, Bill!" my loyal wife said, defending her paramour. "Marcel's just a wonderful teacher. You've got the wrong idea."

I shook my head. I almost felt sorry for my wife, almost. "Awww, Jude, did you think you were special to him? Did you think you were the only one that Slick here was trying to bang?"

Jude's look darkened, and she stared at me. "Of course, not, I mean, I'm not special to him. He's just my yoga instructor."

"Just your yoga instructor?" I asked while trying not to laugh. "Which posture was that you were doing when I walked up? Downward facing dick?"

I don't think Jude could have blushed any brighter than she was at that moment. You could see her slump in defeat. She was busted, and she knew it.

"He lied to you, Jude. He's been banging at least a half-dozen of the married women in your class. Slick here only goes for the ones who are married. He manipulated you."

"I don't believe you," Jude replied, her voice just above a whisper.

"Really? I told you this was what he was after, but you didn't want to hear it. I warned you where this infatuation of yours was going to end up. Didn't I tell you that one day, he would show his cards and try to get you into bed?"

"Yes, but it wasn't like that!" She shot back. "I wasn't going to cheat on you."

"But, you came here to fuck him," I scoffed, "How were you going to do that and not cheat on me. We are still married, for a while anyway."

"He told me that having sex with him would make things better for you and me," she said. "It was like another kind of yoga, and he was going to teach me. Then I could use the techniques with you." The look on her face told me she wasn't buying her own argument.

I just shook my head condescendingly. "Didn't I also tell you that he'd do everything he could to convince you that it wasn't really cheating?"

She nodded, on the verge of breaking down. "You did," she admitted.

"Look, man," Marcel began, without a trace of a French accent, the fear making his voice crack. "Keep the stupid bitch. I'm tired of her bullshit anyway. I've been working Jude for months, and every time I thought she was going to do it, she backed out. Just, let me go, please. I'll leave her alone. I swear it."

Jude seemed crushed by Marcel's words. She looked up at me as tears streamed down her face, "I'm sorry, Bill. I was a fool. I didn't believe you. I swear to you, I never wanted to hurt you."

"Yeah, well, you did," I told her. "The worst part of it all is that I knew what this douchebag was up to all along and I tried to get you to see it. But, you bought into his bullshit." She lowered her gaze and sobbed.

"If you don't get up right now and let me go, I'm going to call the police," Marcel declared, interrupting me, suddenly pretending to be a man.

"You don't get it, do you Slick?" I asked, with a smirk every bit as smarmy as the ones he'd given me in the past. I pulled my Jacket open, and his eyes landed on the gold shield and the gun. I thought I smelled piss.

"I am the police."