The Angry Wife

The door slammed as Sophie swept in and dropped her overnight bag on the kitchen floor with a bang. Yep, my fiery, redheaded wife was still furious with me. I watched as she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite me at the kitchen table. It was a beautiful late Alabama spring morning, but the atmosphere seeping across the table was frigid.

After too many drinks at a convention last week, I went to bed with a sweet, married colleague whom I have known for years. We both knew it was a terrible mistake, but when sex is in the offing, good sense and judgement fly out the window.

Well, the goody-two-shoes gossip line sent news of my carnal indiscretion back to my wife before I even got home. Now I am in deep kimchi.

Two nights ago, Sophie went to the beach to think things through and was just now returning. Her best friend, Megan, accompanied her to serve as a sounding board and to provide a shoulder to cry on. Megan teaches mathematics at the college with Sophie and is single. Megan is a petite blonde with sassy blue eyes. Sophie is a taller, shapely redhead with striking green eyes. When the two are together, every male eye is on them.

Sophie snapped, "Tom, I am still so angry with you I could spit. I do not have the words to tell you how mad and hurt I am."

I returned her gaze and nodded saying, "I know." I thought it wisest to simply be contrite and just listen.

"Megan thought I should have a revenge affair. Judging by all the male attention Megan and I were getting at the hotel bar, that would have been easy."

I replied earnestly, "Honey, if that is what it takes to make things right - no, not right, maybe just even or acceptable between us, I will make no objection. I deserve what I get."

Jeanie looked at me contemptuously and spat, "Yes, you do. But having some extracurricular sex at the beach is just not enough. It is not enough punishment for you, and it does not even begin to assuage my fury at you. You have no idea how much pain your cheating causes me. Why, oh why, did you do something so stupid to us?"

Sophie's a feisty Southern gal who earned a PhD in chemistry at Georgia Tech, and now teaches at our local hometown college. Her enthusiasm, keen mind, and outgoing personality make Sophie popular with students and faculty alike. Those same characteristics and deep roots in our hometown make her popular with everyone else. I had committed the ultimate betrayal of an innocent and well-liked woman.

When I got home from the convention, I was sure I was about to be divorced and ridden out of town on a rail. However, a very skilled and compassionate woman marriage counselor showed us we actually had a lot going for us in our marriage. She convinced us to take a deep breath and go slow before we burnt any bridges.

I really want to stay married to Sophie. I was four years ahead of her in school so we didn't really know each other very well back then. I went on to Auburn followed by six years in the Army with a tour in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, and then to Georgia Tech for a Masters complements of the GI Bill when I got out.

And there was Sophie grinding her way to a PhD. She had blossomed from an awkward adolescent when I saw her last into a beautiful, poised adult woman. I fell head over heels for her on our first date and have stayed there ever since.

However, my wife is now consumed with righteous rage at me and my betrayal. My affair threw an emotional hand grenade into our marriage. Once adultery creeps into a marriage, can the wronged spouse ever really trust the cheating spouse again, and how does the couple reestablish the matrimonial balance that existed before the adultery? I just don't know.

On Monday, I left for Dobrich, Bulgaria to install and troubleshoot a wheat handling system for a rail yard. I own a small, very lucrative engineering company specializing in industrial electronic bulk handling systems for aggregates, mineral ores, and agricultural products. The Bulgarian job proved difficult, and the one week trip stretched to three.

The area was picturesque with ancient ruins from the Thracians, Greeks, and Romans. In times past, I would have had Sophie join me for a holiday. But now, it is probably best to just be gone and let Sophie cool down some. There is something to that old saw that hell hath no fury like a redheaded woman. I was also hoping the old saying about time healing all wounds would have some validity in my case too.

While I was in Bulgaria, I dutifully sent Sophie an email every day telling her what I was doing, groveling over my indiscretion, asking for forgiveness, and assuring her of my love.

Sophie's reply to my initial email was:

"Dear Tom - I am glad you arrived safely and are settled in. Good luck on your project.

I have been rethinking my strategy on how to deal with your affair. Your cheating on me is no secret around town. I do not want the role of poor, pitiful wife as my public persona. I am not going to go mope in the dark crying over your stupidity. - Sophie"

That didn't sound promising. Thereafter Sophie's replies were terse or none at all.

My return flight had delays that stranded me overnight in New York. Jet-lagged and weary, I finally arrived home mid-afternoon Saturday.

As I came in the front door, Sophie called cheerfully, "Tom, Megan and I are in the kitchen fixing drinks. Come join us."

Maybe the time apart worked after all. I entered the kitchen where I found Sophie and Megan. They were both in shorts, t-shirts, and sandals, but even in casual attire, they were a truly striking pair of young women. Sophie handed me a Martini. The girls each had one, and they had a pitcher full to replenish the glasses when needed.

I arched my eyebrows at Sophie. "Martinis at three in the afternoon?"

She smiled, "Oh, we have something for you. Thought you might need a little Dutch courage."

"Ok," I said sipping my Martini. It did taste good after a long trip, but now what?

"Come on," Sophie said. "It's in the living room."

As we entered the living room, Sophie put a hand to my chest. "Wait here."

The girls walked across the room. Both were glancing at each other and giggling conspiratorially like ten year olds. Stepping swiftly to the couch they lifted a sheet from a painting that was hanging on the wall over the couch and dropped the sheet to the floor with a lilting "Ta Da" said in unison.

The large painting showed a dazzling nude view of Sophie, leaving none of her charming attributes to doubt. She is staring boldly at the viewer with an impish smile and sparkling green eyes while half reclining upon pillows on disheveled bed sheets. Sophie is turned slightly to the right toward the viewer with her left leg cocked. Her left hand is resting lightly on her thigh with her wedding and engagement rings clearly visible. A ray of sunlight crosses the hand with Sophie's rings to subtly draw the viewer's attention to them. The right holds a partially filled champagne flute. The painter did a superb job of capturing texture, color, light, and shadow to render an almost photographic realism to the painting. Sophie's sexual arousal is obvious in her tousled air, the blush on her cheeks and chest, and the sheen of perspiration that glistens on her body. Sophie's lips turn a deep purple when she is aroused, and this too is captured accurately. Sophie exudes that unmistakable post-coital languor and glow of a well-laid woman.

A brass plaque on the frame gave the painting's title: Revenge - Cuckolding My Husband. I got the message loud and clear.

"Tom, sit down before you fall down," Sophie giggled.

I was feeling woozy. I sat down.

Sophie was smiling, "Megan, why don't you give Tom some background."

"Sure. Tom, remember before I did my PhD at Penn State I was at Tulane." I nodded that I did. "I worked part-time at an art gallery owned by Napoleon Herberte, a nationally renown portrait and erotic artist. Starting my senior year, I began posing as a nude model for him."

I interjected, "You, the math professor, were a nude model?"

"Uh-huh. Still am sometimes. Anyway, Napoleon and I have remained close friends, and he gets me to pose for him every now and again. About a month ago, Napoleon got a commission to prepare four original paintings to hang in a renovated upscale bar in San Francisco. He asked me to pose, I thought about Sophie, Sophie and I talked, we sent Napoleon some pictures, we explained Sophie's dilemma, Napoleon was inspired, and voila, this is the result." Megan waved airily at the painting of Sophie.

"It's really only a giclee print on canvas,"Sophie explained. "The original oil painting is hanging in the San Francisco bar. What do you think?" She was excited and obviously pleased with her painting.

My head was spinning. "Sophie, it is really stunning." I contemplated Sophie and the painting thoughtfully.

Sophie smiled as she saw I was putting two and two together. "Yes, it is exactly what you think, Tom. Napoleon insists the model must be thoroughly prepped to project the proper atmosphere for such erotic scenes."

I stammered. "Ah, I see. Who, uhm, did the prepping?"

Sophie and Megan were enjoying my discomfort.

Sophie happily explained, "Napoleon uses a very upscale escort service to prep his models."

Megan laughed, "Tom, you should have seen your wife. She was like a five-year old in a candy store!"

"Oh," I stuttered. "Uhm, How many ..."

Sophie smiled and cut me off with a wagging finger. "No. I will leave the question of how many men laid your wife to create this painting to your imagination. You can wonder about that each time you look at it."

Megan rubbed more salt into the wound, adding maliciously, "Just remember, Tom, we were in New Orleans for over a week, and a model may have to pose more than once a day. Judging from the racket your wife made, it was a lot of fun working on the proper atmosphere."

Sophie blushed and for the first time, looked embarrassed. She giggled, "Well yes, it was quite an experience!"

Megan teased, laughing, "So everyone in the studio heard."

"Well, I earned my fun; posing for hours on end is more demanding than I ever dreamed."

My stomach was queasy as I did the potential mental math. My mind's eye saw my wife lustily entertaining a parade of masculine lovers.

Megan picked the story back up. "I and two other models posed for the other three paintings for the bar collection. We only did conventional partial nudes - without prepping being needed, unfortunately. But your wife's! Woohoo, she is smoking hot!"

"Whew," I exhaled. I paused to collect my shattered thoughts as the two girls watched me expectantly, trying to judge my reaction.

I looked at Sophie and said, "Honey, I asked for this and got my just desserts. The painting is truly breathtaking."

Sophie blushed and replied proudly, "It really is something, isn't it? And you certainly asked for it."

I was curious and had to ask, "Uhm, Sophie did you find it hard, uhm, awkward to, uhm, you know, have sex around other people?"

Sophie looked me dead in the eye and slowly said with a devilish smile, "Oh Honey, Napoleon's boys from the service are consummate professionals. I was getting the fucking of a lifetime. I could not have cared less if a Greyhound bus full of tourists watched."

"Well, I guess that answers that," I mumbled in embarrassment.

Sophie and Megan chortled without compassion.

There was a pause while Megan refilled our glasses again from the pitcher. Sophie had been right; I needed a stiff drink for this.

"The painting really is hanging in public in a bar in San Francisco?" I asked.

"Oh yes, Tom" Megan exclaimed. "All four paintings arrived Thursday and were put up for this weekend's big gala reopening. Your naked, sexy wife is now hanging center stage over the bar at one of the major drinking establishments in San Francisco. Her physical charms and the story of her cuckolding you will titillate hordes of patrons for decades.

Sophie gazed at the painting with a smile. "You know I get a warm glow thinking about all of those people out West staring at my naked body. I think I must be a closet exhibitionist."

I wryly observed, "Well you certainly have a lot on exhibit that's for sure."

Sophie giggled as she replied, "I do; don't I." She turned from the painting to face me. "Tom, you are going to have to take me out there to see this. I want to watch the people and listen to what they say about my paining."

Megan chimed in, "Hey, count me in."

I just shrugged and said "Sure, why not? The more the merrier. It can't get any worse."

Sophie replied with a grin, "Oh, I don't know about that, Baby." Megan and Sophie glanced at each other with conspirotal grins. Then Sophie continued, "Megan and I are hosting a catered tea here tomorrow afternoon at two. We invited some women from the university, various girl friends from around town, and our three sisters. About forty people in all. Obviously the story of my nude will be the hot topic of conversation while we sip our tea and nibble on dainties in front of it."

Megan grinned, "That group of gossips will have the story of Sophie's painting and her cuckolding you all over town before supper time."

Sophie leaned forward to emphasize her words. "I want my cuckolding you to be the hottest gossip in town and on everybody's lips. You won't be able to get a cup of coffee in this town without people snickering behind your back."

I sighed. "Honey, I get it. You are paying me back in spades, but, ok, I deserve it. However, we aren't going to leave the picture in our living room though, are we?"

Sophie looked at me archly and replied, "Oh yes, we are. Maybe later we will move it; maybe to our bedroom. But for now, it serves my purpose perfectly right where it is. You cheated on me and everyone in town knows it. Ok. Now I have cuckolded you publically ..."

Sophie paused, cocked her head and looked at me askew. She continued emphasizing each word, "And I will continue to cuckold you publically."

I spilled my drink as I rocked back in surprise. "What? Why? I only cheated once. Aren't we even? You are more than even already!"

Sophie shushed me with a wave of her hand and a tight smile. "At least for a little while; maybe just this summer; maybe just once or twice; I haven't decided yet. This is just to prove to you that I can cheat too and that I will. And I will tell you about each one. I want each time I take a man to be like a cat-o-nine-tails cutting you to the quick. Then maybe after a while, we will be even."

Her tone brooked no discussion.

Sophie looked at me sternly. "Tom, this is the price of my getting over your affair. Take it or leave it, but I would like you back. But if you come back, never, ever cheat on me again."

I watched Sophie's determined face as I contemplated her terms. Well, I brought it upon myself and have nobody else to blame. If we divorce, a beautiful, sexy woman like her will have a swarm of suitors before the ink on the divorce decree is even dry. Probably all younger, richer, and better looking than me to boot. She would be a trophy wife for any man, but she is so much more than just eye candy - smart, independent, self-sufficient, talented, passionate ... I'll never find another like her. In typical Sophie fashion though, she is going to the extreme in her efforts. Where another woman might demand a pound of flesh, Sophie is demanding five.

I sighed and said, "Done. I will take it. You can be assured I have learned my lesson; I would not dare cheat on you again."

"Good," Sophie replied, smiling now. "You can move your things back into our bedroom."

Megan was watching us closely with an anticipation that was reminiscent of a cat watching a mouse that it is torturing.

"Ah, Honey," Sophie continued dryly, "you will be sleeping alone tonight though. Megan and I have dinner dates; in fact we need to start getting ready for our night out."

"Ah, I see," I replied quietly. "Uhm, who?"

Megan jumped in, "We are going out with two of the university's new assistant football coaches. They are just the cutest things and are real hunks. They are taking us out to the Country Club for diner and then dancing afterwards. The Club has a hot band from Atlanta tonight, and everybody in town will be there!"

"Ouch," I thought, "She's not wasting any time with my flogging." In my mind's eye, I could envision some athletic hunk between my wife's thighs and knew it could be a long haul to get out of the purgatory to which my wife had consigned me.

Sophie sat there watching me quietly with a self-satisfied smile. I got her message. With her looks, she could have any man she wanted, whenever she wanted, and I better not forget that fact.

Sophie said with perhaps a tinge of compassion, "Honey, tonight is just to emphasize my point; don't you ever dare cheat on me again. Make no mistake about it though, I plan to have a very good time. My date will be getting lucky tonight, and everyone in town will see me stepping out on you in public. But in the end, I really want a contrite and chastised husband back in my bed, not a new boyfriend."

Sophie is mighty good in bed. That date is certainly going to be one lucky fellow tonight.

Then Sophie went on with an impish grin saying teasingly, "Of course, the sex with Napoleon's boys was not technically cheating. That was in the name of art so it doesn't count!" She laughed and continued, "Besides getting laid by them was just pure physical fun - sorta like a really satisfying workout at the gym!"

Megan put her drink down suddenly. "Oh Sophie, in all of the excitement of showing Tom the painting, I forgot that Napoleon called this morning. He has a new commission to provide the illustrations for a collector's edition of a book. It will be a leather-bound, limited-edition production and will be top-of-the-line. Napoleon wants us to model for him while we are off this summer. Some artwork, some photography. Are you game?"

Sophie replied, "Sure. I am flattered. What is the book?"

"The Kama Sutra."

My wife clapped her hands and exclaimed "Oh Megan, this promises to be a very interesting summer!"

Sophie turned to me with a naughty grin. "Honey, I am almost glad you had your silly old affair. I am having a grand time getting over it."