The Bowling Club Affair

Introduction to Readers: While this is a cheating wife story, it offers little in the way of eroticism, gratuitous sex or violence. Sometimes things are just what they are. Sometimes the good guy rides away into the sunset, leaving the bitch holding the soiled diaper that is her life.

And sometimes the events and outcomes are more noticeable in a small town where everyone knows everyone else.

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THE BOWLING CLUB AFFAIR

A Cheating Wife Story

By

Black Jack Steele

My name is Steve Simpson, and I want to tell you about my friend, Jimmy Brown?

"Woohoo!" yelled the young cowboy as he stood in the doorway of the Uranus Lawn Bowls Club, waving his hat over his head. I've ridden her to a standstill and have established a new personal best. Woohoo!"

It was just before ten o'clock on a Friday night, and the place was full.

"What are you talking about?" one of the club's patrons asked.

"I've been fucking Jimmy Brown's wife since ten o'clock this morning, and I've cum in her and on her seven times since we started. That's a new record for me; a fact I'm sure she'll support. Unfortunately, she can't speak on my behalf at the moment because she's over in my caravan park cabin and she's out for the count."

The attention of all the club members was on the flashy young braggart, so no-one noticed one of their number disappear into the men's dressing room and slip out through the rear door.

---oooBJSooo---

Every town and village throughout Australia usually has two things: a community swimming pool and a lawn bowls club. Smaller or poorer communities may only have one of those facilities. Whether it is a swimming pool or a bowls club will often depend on how many kids live in the town and the general feeling of the parents of those children towards them.

With my experience of that particular town -- I had the misfortune to be based there, with plans to stay for three years -- I'd say that the vote would have gone towards the bowls club option. Most of the parents I'd had anything to do with during my stay, didn't give a rat's arse about what their kids got up to or who they got up to it with.

Being one of the more affluent towns in the southern New South Wales region known as the Riverina, Uranus had both a swimming pool and a bowls club. It also had a hotel. The trouble was that the publican, Pat Ryan, was a cranky old prick who wasn't known to be a people person. Go figure.

His wife, Sioborn, though, was his complete opposite. She was one of the nicest people you would ever want to meet, and she put on an excellent meal in her dining room. Unfortunately, even her enviable reputations couldn't counteract that of her husband.

What added to Pat's downwards-pointing profit projections was the fact that he insisted on employing barmaids who were just like him. I'm sure it was the barmaids at Uranus' Royal Hotel who were the foundation for the rumour that, 'the barmaids in that part of the country have been known to eat their young'.

It should come as no surprise, then that when looking for an enjoyable night out, most of the residents of the town would head to the bowls club.

The town of Uranus sat on what was once -- back in the old stage-coach days -- the crossroads between four larger towns. Although small, it was steeped in history and had been a meeting place for many of the bushrangers -- outlaws, to my American friends -- who roamed the area around one-hundred-and-fifty years earlier. In more modern times, instead of stopping to change horses or feed their passengers, those who visited Uranus usually did so because it was on their route to somewhere else. They were simply passing through. As a consequence, Uranus was known far and wide as the arsehole of the world.

So affluent was the little town, however, that in addition to a swimming pool, a bowls club and a pub, it also had a large man-made lake and a caravan park.

The caravan park sat alongside the lake, and its owners -- the local council -- had installed four new, two-bedroom cabins so that those travellers who did decide to stay, would have somewhere comfortable to spend the night. The cabins were also used by members of the local farming and grazing community -- the squattocracy -- when they'd stay in town.

The squatters formed the membership of the town's 'other' social organisation; the exclusive and secretive Uranus Lawn Tennis Club. When they'd decide to stay in town after a function or during a weekend-long tennis tournament, they'd stay in the caravan park cabins. There was probably no foundation to the rumour that they were not averse to sharing, and that they'd been known to squeeze somewhat more than the normal bed capacity into those cabins on such occasions.

They had their own bar at the tennis club courts so didn't frequent the bowls club. They were seen in the dining room and bar of the Royal Hotel, however.

---oooBJSooo---

Up until the night of Scottie McFadden's announcement, the only member of the bowls club who didn't know that Jimmy Brown's wife was the town bike was Jimmy Brown, himself. The poor bastard thought that the sun, moon and stars were sourced from her backside -- Jimmy didn't use words like 'arsehole'. He loved her with a passion that very few women ever received.

If Jimmy Brown had one failing, however, it was that he was almost invisible. He was one of those people who could walk into a bank, demand money, then quietly walk out without anyone having noticed he was ever there. He was so nondescript that even the teller who had handed him the money from her drawer probably wouldn't have been able to describe him.

That was why he was able to leave the club that night without anyone noticing. In fact, most of the patrons would not have even remembered he was ever there.

He worked for the local council as its tradesman carpenter; a position that was ideally suited to both his skills and his solitary personality. He wasn't the lowest man on the council's totem pole, but trade qualifications weren't as highly recognised in local government circles as they were in other industries.

He could have earned a much higher wage if he were to move away from Uranus, but Marleen wouldn't hear of it. And what Marleen wanted, Marleen got. Which is why in addition to his council job, Jimmy had to work on most afternoons and most weekends to make ends meet. There was no recreational downtime for Jimmy Brown, just different work. But he never complained.

"A change is as good as a holiday," he'd once told me.

I liked Jimmy, and I had noticed he was there that night. I'd even had a chat with him. I'd seen him come into the club, but I'd had to search him out. I finally found him tucked into the corner of the bar out of everyone's way. He was very shy, was Jimmy.

He'd told me that, as it was his rostered Friday off, he'd spent the day doing a bit of carpentry work out on one of the grazing properties. He said he'd left home before daylight and hadn't returned until after dark. His sixteen-year-old daughter, Mary -- he and Marleen had been married for almost seventeen years, and they had four children -- told him that their mother had left home that morning to go to work and that she hadn't returned.

According to him, his daughter had told him that her mother had to clean the caravan park cabin that had been occupied the previous night. She also had to prepare the three vacant cabins for occupancy that night. Apparently, there was some sort of tennis club function scheduled for the weekend, and all three were booked for Friday and Saturday nights.

She had also told their daughter that once she'd finished at the caravan park, she'd be heading off to do a bit of shopping and housework for a couple of the older ladies she'd been helping out for the last couple of months. She'd told her that she could be a bit late getting home so it would be up to Mary to look after her younger brothers and sister. As was happening more frequently, there was no mention of making sure that her father was cared for, so he'd had to see to himself when he'd got in from work.

"When she hadn't come home by nine o'clock," he told me, "I decided that I'd better start looking for her. After searching everywhere else, I thought I'd call in here to see if she'd come in for a drink and got caught up with her girlfriends and lost track of time.

"I've tried calling her, but she must have left her phone at home. My daughter heard it ringing and answered it. I guess all I can do now is head home and wait for her. I just hope she's all right. Although she's on foot, so I suppose I'd have heard if anything had happened to her."

We talked for a bit longer before I was called away to fill in for an absent darts player.

I was standing on the opposite side of the room when McFadden made his announcement. At first, I thought he'd just broken a difficult horse and was skiting about his achievement. He was a well-known horseman, and many of the local graziers used him to break and educate their horses for them.

It was only when he responded to the enquiry with, "I've been fucking Jimmy Brown's wife since ten o'clock this morning, and I've cum in her and on her seven times since we started", that the penny dropped. It was then that I glanced over to where Jimmy had been sitting. He was no longer there. All I saw was a shadow of someone disappearing into the men's dressing room. Of course, Jimmy could have left earlier, and it could have been someone else's shadow -- the men's dressing room was also where the men's toilet was located -- but I somehow didn't think so.

I said earlier the Jimmy must have been the only member of the bowls club who didn't know about Marleen's sluttish behaviour. I have to admit that I'd be another. I had no idea. But, I probably shouldn't have been surprised at being kept out of the loop. After all, I was a blow-in. My wife, Liz, and I had only been in the town for about eighteen months at the time.

Truth be told, Liz had been closer to Jimmy and Marleen than I was. She saw them as good people in need of a bit of a hand. From the little I knew of Jimmy, he was not one to accept a handout, though. I thought he might accept a bit of help, but just so long as it wasn't offered as charity. I warned my wife of this, and she kept it in mind in her interaction with Marleen.

I also tried to apply the same principles in my dealings with Jimmy. I recognised him as a highly intelligent man who had been held back by his environment. I encouraged him to take every opportunity that presented itself to broaden his knowledge of those things that interested him. And his interests were many and varied.

He was so skilled with his hands that he'd become known throughout the area as 'Mr Fixit'. The only things he wouldn't touch were anything that plugged into an electrical socket. He even supplied most of the townspeople with their winter firewood.

The few times I'd met Marleen, I'd been impressed with her outer beauty. She had a very pretty face which was surrounded by long, loosely-curled dirty blonde hair. Her tight body highlighted her breasts and hips, giving her a model-like appearance. Anyone not in the know wouldn't believe that she'd delivered four children. She gave the impression of being very close to her children, and it was obvious that her love was reciprocated. She was no rocket scientist but seemed to have a lively -- if somewhat earthy -- sense of humour.

While her outer beauty caught the eye, though, my first impression was that that beauty did not reflect what was going on inside. She struck me as being shallow. Yes, she might have been attractive. But I got the feeling that that beauty was -- as the saying goes -- 'only skin deep'.

She'd probably been quite young when they'd married, which put her into the thirty-four or thirty-five age bracket. Jimmy, I knew, was older, being a year or two shy of forty. But he was one of those people who still looked to be in his early twenties. It was probably that boyish look that held him back when he sought advancement. No-one would put him in charge of a gang of men because they didn't see him having the presence needed to command respect. His size didn't help. He was barely one-hundred-and-sixty-five centimetres (5'-6") tall.

Marleen, on the other hand, was fifty centimetres (two inches) taller than her husband and would tower over his slight frame any time she wore heels.

'Was that the problem?' I wondered as I thought about it. 'Did it all come down to size?'

I thought back to the few times I'd seen them together and reviewed their body language. From the picture I had in my head of the two of them sitting side by side, I sensed the love emanating from Jimmy towards his wife. He was leaning towards her and holding her hand. Conversely, Marleen had a neutral posture, She was neither leaning towards nor away from him. Nor was she actively holding his hand. From what I was seeing, the love was moving in only one direction.

'It looks to me that the poor bastard had been being cuckolded for some time; perhaps even years,' I thought as I pondered the events of that night.

I'd thought about going after him, but I'd dropped my car off at home and had walked back to the club. The local police constable had had me in his sights. I'd ignored his flashing lights after he'd followed me home one night and I'd turned into my driveway. Having only had one beer on that occasion, I was as sober as he was and had offered to submit to his breathalyser test. For some obscure legal reason, he couldn't test me in my own driveway, so the officious little dickhead had put me on notice. I knew he was out to get me.

As I sat at my table finishing my drink, I overheard the young blowhard boasting about his achievement. It appeared that -- according to him, at least -- because his cabin was still occupied, Marleen had spent a couple of hours cleaning and preparing the other three cabins in preparation for the incoming guests. She arrived at his cabin at about nine-forty-five, and he offered her a cup of coffee before she started work on his accommodation. She apparently accepted.

"One thing then led to another," he said, "and the next thing we were both naked and were going at it like rabbits in my bed. "

"Was that your first time with Jimmy Brown's wife?" one member of his audience asked. I looked around me, and it appeared that all the married men -- at least all those whose wives had been in attendance -- had been hustled out of the club.

I'd finished my beer, so I walked over to the bar and requested a refill. I had intended to leave, but I wanted to know just how much damage this bastard had done to a man I had come to consider a friend.

"Nah," the young man responded, "Jimmy Brown's wife and I have been going at it for years. In fact, I'd be surprised if most of his kids weren't mine.

"Except for the first one," he said. "you've only got to take one look at her to see which father fathered that one." A snide chuckle came from a few of the older members of his audience.

I found it interesting that they all knew Marleen's name, but they always referred to her as Jimmy Brown's wife. That had to be the ultimate put-down. It was clear that none of them had even an ounce of respect for the man. Neither, obviously, did his wife.

"Or they could belong to one of you blokes," he continued. "Hands up all you bastards who have sent Jimmy Brown's wife home to him with the taste of your cum in her mouth and a pussy full of your sperm for him to clean out of her." I had my back to them, but I could see seven hands raised in acknowledgement reflected in the plate glass window through which I was looking. From my reflected view, I could only identify the owner of one of those hands. It belonged to Ian Henry. My boss.

"Well, you'll be pleased to know that you'll now have another hole to plunder," the horsebreaking Lothario told them. "I broke her to arse-fucking today, and she loves it. She's still only new at it, so you'll have to take it a bit easy the first few times. She was only able to take me twice, but I emptied my balls into her both times. She also took two loads in her mouth and three in her twat.

"I have no idea how many times she came. There was one point at the end there, where she was going on and on. That's when she passed out."

I'd had enough. I tipped back my glass and swallowed the last of the beer down. It tasted like bile. I took the empty glass over to the bar and laid it on its side in the universal sign -- in Australia, at least -- that I'd had enough. I then pulled out my wallet and extracted my bowling club membership card. Holding it out towards the barman, I tore it in half and in half again before dropping it beside my glass.

I then turned to look at the group gathered around the raconteur. There were ten of them, not counting the story-teller, which meant that seventy per-cent of them had already fucked Marleen and the other thirty per-cent wanted to do so. In addition to my boss, there were two elected local politicians in the group; one of whom was the deputy mayor. I knew that he was incapable of doing the deed but was experiencing the thrill of fucking Jimmy Brown's wife vicariously by listening to the cowboy's story.

I stared each one of those in the group in the eye and held each of them until they looked away. Even my boss, who considered himself to be a strong negotiator was unable to hold my gaze. The only one who didn't blink was the cowboy, so I started on him.

"You had better keep your eye on your rear vision mirror, you gutless little prick," I said to him, keeping my eyes locked onto his. "You destroyed a man tonight. Up until ten o'clock, he thought he had something to live for. Even though he knew his wife didn't love him, he loved her. But now, you've taken even that away from him.

"He's a great deal stronger than any of you know, however. And, while you've taken away the one thing he lived for, you've given him something in return. Hatred. He won't rest until he's destroyed each and every one of you.

"And you, little, big man," I said, still holding the fucker's gaze, "he'll come after you first. Before he's finished with you, you'll tell him who else was here tonight and who put their hands up in acknowledgement of having fucked his wife. And once he's finished with you -- and if I know him as well as I think I do, you'll be begging for him to put you down by then -- he'll come after the seven of you who raised your hands tonight.

"From each of the seven, he will extract the names of those others who have cuckolded him and on it will go until he has cleaned the slate. But you, my friend, you will be first. Your end won't be quick, and it won't be without pain, but you'll welcome it when it comes. The thing is, though, you won't know when it will come. It could be tomorrow. It could be next week. It could be next year. Or the year after, Or the year after that. He's like a Chinaman and has a long memory.

"However long it takes, when something happens to any of you, the others will always wonder if Jimmy Brown had a hand in it. If one of you dies, the others will question whether it was really due to natural causes or an accident, or did Jimmy Brown make it happen? What each of you has done to Jimmy Brown will remain with you for the rest of your miserable lives; or what's left of them."

I'd seen the colour draining from Scottie McFadden's face as I'd been talking and he finally dropped his eyes. As soon as he'd done that, I turned to my boss.

"You'll have my resignation on your desk first thing on Monday morning, you hypocritical, pretentious, high and mighty piece of shit. And I guess it would be safe to assume that Jimmy Brown won't be returning to work on Monday. I wouldn't attempt to try to cheat him out of his entitlements by claiming that he didn't provide sufficient notice. Using your penchant for pedanticism to justify such an action would, I believe, prove to be counterproductive.