Sprung Ch. 05

I considered getting all legal and threatening him with consequences for the invasion of privacy and assaults to date. But my heart just wasn't in it. I had wronged this guy and he wanted... what were his goals?

"What do you want?"

He smiled, and I knew I'd taken the right track.

"Well, I believe you when you said that Sarah and yourself have never had sex, but I note you toned it down a little with your statement of 'maybe going to happen this weekend'. Seeing your behaviour before, I don't think there was much 'maybe' about it. If we go back to that cabin of yours, I'll find two separate beds made up, will I?"

I tried to hold his gaze. I couldn't. Guilt has a way of making not dropping your eyes impossible.

"So, what do I want? I want to know how and who started all this. Why you and she thought it was okay to behave like this? But, mostly, I want to know how she could lie and betray her family and whether I should destroy my family, and yours, as a matter of fact, by kicking her to the kerb?"

There it was, the overt threat to destroy my happy existence. I kept wanting to kick myself for my actions, but I was in survival mode and couldn't spare the luxury.

"Of course, you have to forgive Sarah. I can tell she really loves you and she didn't really do anything wrong..."

The sudden look of rage on the face opposite me registered his disagreement with this idea. He half rose, I'm sure to belt me, then sat again. I watched as he collected himself. When he spoke next, he appeared calm, but his voice contained more than a little hiss.

"Never did anything wrong? Lying to me and her children about where she was going. Stealing money from the family to buy that dress she was wearing and that filthy lingerie. Nothing wrong? Tell me, if your wife met another guy for lunch then went to his car and made out with him; would you think it okay?"

Now it was my turn to be angry,

"No, my wife isn't a slu... oh dear."

My head dropped to my hands. I'd been in self-preservation mode since this guy appeared. Now the blinders had been forcibly ripped away. If I caught my wife doing this stuff, I would not be happy. Neither should she be. A deep sense of shame came over me and I almost missed the guy's next words.

"So why?"

Good question. It was time to answer questions I'd never even asked myself and I had to do it on the fly. Not easy when you have both a bad conscience and a guy whose wife you were planning to bang staring at you.

"Dave, isn't it? This may all sound a bit disjointed to you, but, honestly, I've never questioned myself as to why I was doing this. It started and just seemed to develop a life of its own and keep progressing."

"Accepted."

"After our third child was born, my wife developed quite severe PND. She would look after the kids during my work day, but as soon as I got home, she'd dump them on me and go to bed. Our sex life dwindled to nothing, as you can imagine. Within a few months I was exhausted. I got her the best treatment we could afford, and she eventually shook it off, but forever after that she seemed to associate sex with her depression. Since then, I've been lucky to get it once or twice a month."

"Did you suggest couples counselling, sex therapy, or anything like that?"

I just shook my head.

"So, you decided to fuck someone else's, or more specifically, my wife, instead."

There was no answer to that, so, avoiding eye contact, I said nothing. Just grouped my thoughts.

"When I was in high school and college, I was a skinny, shy kid, covered in zits. No girls were interested in me. I felt like a failure as a male. My wife just about losing all interest in me, started me thinking along those same lines. It shook my ego. When I was getting plenty at home, I didn't notice that since I bulked out and gained confidence in my job, women were attracted to me. Didn't even think of them that way. It got worse when I made junior partner. Power is an aphrodisiac, you know. When the supply dried up at home, I started noticing other women more. After a while, I started to think I was entitled to it."

I risked a glance at Dave about this point. I couldn't pick anything from his expression. He used the pause to tap out a couple of texts on his cell.

"When Sarah started at work, I took an instant liking to her and she seemed to like me as well. At first, it started off as just having lunch together at work. She always talked about you and her family and I never thought it would go any further than friendship. Then, one day, my wife and I had a fight over something trivial, and just before lunch time, I asked Sarah if she would come out to lunch with me. A frustrated slap at my wife, I suppose. Anyway, to my surprise, Sarah said yes. We had fun and it became a regular thing."

Now came the hard part. It actually felt good to unburden myself, but I was increasingly getting towards the point where this guy would take me out the back and beat the fuck out of me. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. It might ease my conscience a little.

"That was all we did for a month or so. Just lunch once a week. All quite innocent and harmless, but totally inappropriate now I come to think about it. Then... ah, about a month ago, after a particularly long lunch, where I'd unloaded about my marital problems, and Sarah offered some advice, we... ah, kissed."

I braced for violence, but he seemed as if he was hearing nothing new.

"We kissed that day and that was it. The next week we went for lunch, I jokingly said we should get a motel room. Sarah poo-pooed that but then surprised the hell out of me by suggesting that maybe we could get away for a weekend together. We spent the rest of the meal discussing how we could do it. I, for one, never questioned whether we should do it and if she had thoughts along those lines, she didn't share them with me. I know this isn't what you want to hear, but it just seemed a natural progression. I found her very attractive, mentally and physically, and she had a bit of a crush on me, obviously. We had the whole sexual tension thing going which I hadn't felt in years. We planned for the next two weeks, then... well, here we are today."

The guy was eerie with the lack of emotion he was showing. He just nodded to himself.

"What would have happened after this weekend?"

"Buggered if I know. We hadn't talked about anything like that and I never thought that far ahead."

"Look into your crystal ball now then."

"Well, I can only speak for myself, but no matter how good this weekend was, I doubt I would have done it again. Well, once or twice more I suppose, maybe. After that, the risk of discovery would have been too great. I would never want to hurt my wife or have her chuck me out. She and the kids are everything to me."

I stopped as I realised how utterly stupid all this must sound. For the first time, Dave looked away. I could only imagine the hurt and turmoil he must be going through. Finally, he spoke.

"Did you ever consider the consequences your actions might have on me, or my kids?"

That simple question tugged at my conscience. The thought of being in his position was too big and horrible to contemplate. In sympathy, I answered honestly.

"I'm ashamed to say, I hardly even thought of the possible consequences on my family, never mind yours. I was so sure we'd covered every base and were safe from discovery that it hardly seemed relevant. I was like a teenager again, being led by my dick."

He just nodded, like that was the answer he was expecting. His pausing gave me time to think like a lawyer again. What could I give this guy to maximise the chances of walking away with minimal damage? I know; hope.

"Sarah really loves you, you know. Yes, she's betrayed your trust, and, yes, she was probably going to betray it a whole lot more, but you stopped it. There will be no images of us fucking to haunt you. When she finds out how she's hurt you, she'll be devastated. If I was you, I'd yell and scream at her but not divorce her. Divorce would only punish you. Split your family apart. Yes, it will take some time to regain your trust in her, but, I've come to know her; she'll never do anything like this again."

I hoped like hell he took my advice. I didn't want to live with the knowledge that I'd destroyed his family. Plus, if that happened, he might well retaliate by destroying mine. Which reminded me.

"Um, I don't suppose you'd consider just beating the crap out of me, would you? Is there any way you'd consider not telling my wife?"

I remembered that Sarah had told me on numerous occasions how strong his belief in family values was.

"If you tell my wife, it will probably kill my family as well. Three more devastated kids, And for what? To satisfy your lust for revenge? Please, just take it out on my hide. I won't even call the police or press charges, I promise. If I break my word, then you could still call my wife."

He just stared into my eyes, one at a time, then sighed.

"It's too late, I'm afraid. That's what those texts were all about a few minutes ago. I just texted Sarah to say we were back home, so she'll be arriving there soon. When she gets there, she will find your wife waiting to have a very similar conversation to the one we've just had."

Oh no. It was like my worst nightmare. I could imagine the hurt of the betrayal my wife was feeling like a physical pain. My reflex was to go to her as soon as possible. I went to stand. Impossible with my hand pinned to the table again.

"After you two orchestrated this little betrayal, your wife and I decided that neither of you should have any say in your futures. There are many details we didn't know. Like how far you'd gone before today and what your future intentions were. Your wife and I intend comparing notes tomorrow. If your stories differ significantly and you've lied to me, then there will be a beating, I can assure you. Then we're going to compare notes on your levels of remorse before deciding if either marriage is salvageable. Neither of us trust our own judgements at the moment; we both married cheaters, after all. Until then, stay the fuck away from me, Sarah, your wife, and your house. If you're welcome back there, she will call you. Don't try to ring her or Sarah. Have a nice life, asshole."

After a quick glance around, he removed his hand from mine, picked up the tiny fork lying next to my barely touched oysters, and with one quick motion, rammed it into the back of my hand. It went through the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger. Stifling a scream, I pinned my injured hand under my armpit to stop too much blood getting onto the thankfully black table cloth. Just as the waiter delivered the main course, I felt strong enough to ask for the bill and called a taxi.

All the while realising that my stupid decisions meant the future was almost totally out of my hands.

******

Perspective Change to Sarah

I tried calling Dave again, but it went straight to message bank. I know about the rules in hospitals regarding phones, so wasn't that surprised. I judged which hospital an ambulance was likely to take Jenny to and plotted the quickest course. Then I got back to fretting about my baby.

When I got to the hospital, I had the wherewithal to wrap my coat around me to hide the dress, even though away from the mountains it was too warm for it. It took me five minutes to get to talk to the triage nurse. She knew nothing about my daughter; she wasn't there.

Running outside again, I headed for my car, thinking how to get to the next hospital. My phone chirped with an incoming text. It was from Dave, 'home now'. What the f...? From flat out emergency to, 'they're home', made no sense at all. I tried ringing him, but it went straight to voicemail. I held my phone, hoping he was trying to ring me, but it remained silent. A second call, then a third also went to voicemail.

I jumped in the car and headed for home, plotting as I went. I could sneak in the front door and if everyone was busy, quickly change. Or, if I was caught, I could say I needed to pee desperately, go to our bedroom and change quickly. Hopefully, Dave would be so rattled by the evening's drama, he wouldn't notice how I was dressed.

I coasted to a stop in front of our house and parked on the street, rather than in the driveway. There was no sign of Dave's car, but it would be in the garage. What there was, was a strange car in the driveway. Confused, I bustled to the front door and quietly opened it. There was no sound from within, so I entered the short hall off the lounge and closed the door as silently as possible behind me. I then poked my head around the corner, into the lounge, prior to dashing to my room.

Sitting side by side on our sofa was an early thirties woman and a girl of twelve or thirteen. Both were staring at me silently. No one else was in sight.

"Who are you and where are Dave and my kids?"

"Your kids are still with your sister. Dave is... well, you'll find out later where he is. As for us, I am Laura Bailey..."

I instantly recognised Michael's surname and even though I couldn't recall him ever using his wife's forename, realised, with mounting dread, that this was his wife. That meant...

"And this is my eldest daughter, Mary. She wanted to meet the woman that was trying to destroy her family. I wanted her along to hopefully stop me ripping off your head and spitting down your neck."

I glanced towards the young girl who sat there with a look of loathing on her face. I looked away, incapable of much logical thought with this bizarre turn of events and in the face of such overt condemnation. I'm not a bad person. For the first time, all the potential consequences began to come home to roost in my consciousness and the truth of that last statement came under assault. Here, now, I was the baddie. I was the villain.

"Take off your coat, you stupid woman; you're sweating like a pig."

I responded to the authority of that voice and obeyed, throwing the coat towards the door and sitting down opposite the sofa in the only chair available, before my legs gave way. I was still disorientated.

"I...I thought you were going away this weekend."

"So sue me, I lied."

"Is Jenny okay?"

"Now the dumb slut worries about her child. Yes, she's fine, she's always been fine. Nothing happened to her. It was a ruse to get you back here and stop you sleeping with my husband. He knows I would never forgive him for that, so Dave and I stopped the pair of you while reconciliation was still an option. Unless this wasn't the first time."

How do you spell, 'totally and completely fucking confused'? Obviously, Dave and this woman knew something, well, a lot, really; but what exactly did they know? I couldn't begin to guess. My optimistic nature minimised the possibilities. That led to the best long-term outcome.

"I don't know what you think is going on between Michael and myself. But we're just friends. Yes, we snuck around behind your back, but it was all innoc..."

"Lift your dress."

"What?"

"Lift your dress. I want to see what panties my husband's 'friend' was wearing to her dinner date with him."

This time, my only response to her barked order, was to hang my head as my face went crimson.

"I thought so. Now tell me, bitch. Why did you think it was acceptable to seduce my husband, thereby risking the destruction of his family, my damn family, and your own? Dave seems like quite a catch."

The enormity of that question struck me mute. I'd never considered what I was doing was risking my marriage. I'd been so careful, the possibility of being caught was zero, so the threat to my marriage, nil. What justifications I had used for myself were only aimed at allaying my own guilt and then only to stop Dave seeing it. They seemed so shallow now.

Yes, I was a virgin when I met Dave. But so was he. He was perfectly happy to die knowing no other women, I was a lesser human being for not wanting the same.

Yes, our lovemaking was a little stale due to familiarity. But we'd learned exactly what each other did and didn't like. Had I done enough to keep it fresh and vibrant? No, I hadn't. Certainly not in the last six months as my attention gradually focused elsewhere.

And why would I want to feel like a teenager again? Why evoke memories of extreme social consciousness and embarrassing skin conditions? What the hell was I thinking about? Yes, we were young and free at that age. We were also very, very alone.

With a feeling of overwhelming hopelessness, I began crying.

"Oh, no. Your cheap tricks won't work against me, bitch. Start talking. How many times have you slept with my husband? Do you love him? Were you going to steal him away from us? And why were you doing this? I should warn you that right now Dave is having the same conversation with Michael. One lie and we'll find out and it's all over. Convince me to advise your husband to give you another chance."

I was too confused to take in the significance of that last sentence. The enormity of my guilt, shame, and the size of the task ahead, threatened to overwhelm me. Please god, let me succeed in convincing Dave I'd done nothing beyond redemption. Please.

I opened my mouth and began the battle to save my life.

THE END

So, what happens folks? Sarah and Michael cheated, if only non-sexually. The intent to go much further was clear. Do Dave and Laura take the uncompromising road? Or do they swallow their pride and do what's best for the family? After all, it's impossible to split a family without repercussions for the children. That would mean living with someone with greatly reduced love, trust and respect.

To give you some insight into my own values, and I'm not ashamed to say I have some personal experience with a similar situation, I reckon I'd hang around, making the most of the marriage situation, until the children left home, then hit the road. But, to each his own.