The 'Eve' Gene

The 'Eve' Gene

She has a genius-level IQ, but she's brain dead under the influence of the Eve Gene

By Marmadukephuknukle

The "Eve Gene": a mitochondrial gene passed only by females and affecting all, but only females. It traces all the way back to Eve in the Garden of Eden and explains her reaction to the serpent's temptation. It causes a compulsion in women who, once exposed to a curiosity, desire, or temptation, even a mere suggestion, to be unable to rest until that curiosity, desire, temptation, or suggestion is satisfied, regardless of the consequences to herself or others. Depending on custom, social pressure, personal morals, or law, that craving may be satisfied immediately, after a period that may range from days to years, or it may never be satisfied at all, but the craving will continue to gnaw away at her like a dog with a bone until it's resolved or overcome by death.

It is similar to the gene that never lets a woman forget some slight nor ever forget an instance when she was right and you were wrong, and she never lets you forget it.

My wife Mary and I, I'm Tom Windell, have been inseparable our entire thirty-year lives. Our parents lived next door to each other when we were born two days apart. We were each blessed with genius-level IQs and were naturally drawn to each other at the exclusion of all others. We graduated high school co-valedictorians, attended the same university, received our baccalaureates at nineteen and our doctorates at twenty-one, Mary's in economics and mine in computer science. We married as soon as we turned eighteen and decided to wait until we were both well-established in our careers and economically sound before starting a family.

We live in Northern Virginia where Mary is a senior economist for Thornton, Reese, and Savage, the largest investment and commercial banking firm in the tri-state area, the three states being Virginia, Maryland, and Delaware, including the District of Colombia, and I am the principal researcher in artificial intelligence at a major computer company. Last year we moved into a new home large enough for the three children we planned to have, in an up-scale development in a good school district; always looking to the future. From where we now live, I have a longer commute, so I usually leave for work a half-hour before Mary and get home about a half-hour after her, depending on traffic.

We both agree that the time to begin our family was now so we would still be young enough to enjoy their growing up and they would be out or nearly out of college when we retired in our fifties. We plan for her to go off her birth control pills in September, three months from now. That way our baby will have a birthday before the beginning of the school year.

When I got home from work on the Monday before the upcoming Memorial Day holiday weekend, I found Mary seated on the sofa in the family room. On the coffee table in front of the sofa were her glass of wine, my martini, and a tray of hors d'oeuvres; something I normally find on a Friday evening, not a Monday. I sat beside her, reached for my martini as she reached for her wine, we clinked glasses, said "cheers," and I asked, "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing, really," she answered, "I just felt like doing something special for the most wonder husband in the world."

That should have raised a flag, but it didn't as I responded cluelessly, "Thank you, Sweetheart. That's why you're the love of my life and always will be. We sipped our drinks, munched on the hors d'oeuvres, and chatted about the day's activities and the latest office gossip. As our glasses neared empty, Mary got up and went to the kitchen, returning with her wine bottle and my martini pitcher and refilled our glasses. As we continued to sip our drinks and chat, Mary, staring into her wine glass said, "I'm going to Rehoboth Beach for the Memorial Day weekend."

I said, "Sweetheart, you know I have committed to the American Legion's flag retirement ceremony that will keep me tied up pretty much all weekend; collecting worn and damaged flags all day Saturday and Sunday and conducting the actual Retirement Ceremony Monday morning. We can go the following weekend, take a personal day off, and make it a long weekend instead."

With a look of embarrassment on her face, she said, "I didn't say we, I said I'm going," as she continued to stare into her wine, not making eye-contact with me.

Still clueless, I said, "Honey, a weekend alone at the beach can't be much fun, surely you can wait a week and the water's likely to be a little bit warmer."

"I won't be alone;" again that embarrassed look.

"You know a group of girls at the beach by themselves is a prescription for trouble," I offered.

She finally made eye contact with me, and said with a deep blush, "I won't be with the girls."

The light finally came on, "With a man; oh no you won't!" I nearly screamed.

"I've never known any man sexually, but you. The girls in the office have convinced me that it isn't fair for a woman to go through life having experiencing one lover, never to have experienced other lovers' lovemaking styles and techniques. They said I owed it to myself to find out what it's like to be with another man, especially a man with a big cock," she said defensively.

"Cock, now is it? Quite the potty-mouth you're developing," I said sarcastically.

"You've always referred to our private parts as penis and vulva or vagina. Cock and pussy sound naughty, more exciting,"

"I can say cock and pussy with the best of them, and a lot of other dirty words I'd just as soon not expose my loving wife to," I retorted. "I use the proper terms rather than the vulgarities out of love and respect for you."

"Wally says you call yours a penis because it's really small. I told him I thought all penises were the same size, and he told me that wasn't true and that a penis had to be man-sized like his to be called a cock. He said his cock is really big. The other girls in the office agree and say that as a lover, he's among the best."

"Wally!?!" I exclaimed, "You mean Walter Thornton, the son of your company's founding partner and CEO?"

"...Y...Yes," she said hesitantly.

"He's married... to that pretty, petite Sicilian girl; first generation as I recall. They just had a baby, didn't they?" I asked.

"Yes, about three months ago," she responded.

"Mary, you surprise me. I never thought you'd stoop so low as to break up a family, other than ours of course, just to satisfy a curiosity. I'm terribly disappointed in you," I said with some disdain.

"Oh, they have an open marriage," she said defensively. "They freely have sex with different partners with the blessings of each other. In fact, he has bragged and most of the girls in the office have confirmed that he's had his cock in every pussy in our office except mine."

"Then if she - Carola is it - is equally sexually active, she doesn't really know who the father of her child is, does she?" I offered sarcastically.

"Oh, no, I'm sure it's Wally's," she said, but without much conviction.

"Have they had DNA tests done?" I pressed.

"Well...uh... I don't know... That's not the kind of question I'd ask someone," She stumbled.

"That's certainly the kind of question I'd ask someone I planned to fuck all weekend; that and a whole lot more," I stated emphatically.

"You don't have to be so crude," she accused.

"Why not, you opened the game, Miss Potty Mouth," I retorted.

"Have you considered STDs?" I asked.

"Oh, he's clean. He only has sex with married women," She said defensively.

"Are you listening to yourself? Are you brain dead, has your genus-level brain turned off the light switch, or are you just so excited over the prospect of fucking a really big, strange cock all weekend that you've lost all common sense?" I asked incredulously.

With a puzzled look, she said, "I don't understand..."

"You said yourself he's bragged and your girlfriends have confirmed that he's fucked every woman in your office except you. There are thirty-five women in your office counting the secretarial pool, and over half the women in your office are single. If you think a married woman who cheats with him wouldn't also cheat with others, married or otherwise, you're delusional. Most married women who cheat, do so on one-night-stands with strangers they pick up in bars on "girls' night out" and fuck their brains out in the back seat of a car in the parking lot. That makes a lie of his claim that he only fucks married women and somehow that makes him clean, as you called it. Or did you just make that up on the spur of the moment to assuage my concerns and justify your planned action?"

"Oh no, that's what he told me," she declared.

"And you believed him? How can you be so fucking gullible?" I questioned rhetorically. "Yep, brain dead. No woman with a genius-level IQ and a Mensa member could be so stupid. My dad always told me I should never argue with an idiot, because people won't be able to tell which-is-which." Picking up my keys and cell phone, I started toward the front door as I said bitterly, "I can't take any more of this idiocy from my 'loving wife,' I'm going for a walk."

When I got to the end of the block, I called my friend and golfing buddy Martin "Marty" Johnson, who just happened to be one of the best divorce lawyers in the state. I told him what Mary was proposing and asked if he could have divorce papers ready for me by Friday; I told him the grounds would be irreconcilable differences, and if she went through with it, amend them to adultery. He explained that under Virginia Code § 20-91, unlike other divorce grounds, there is no waiting period before filing for divorce based on adultery, otherwise there would be a delay. He assured me he could have everything ready before Friday and would, in fact, prepare documents for both contingencies, but asked why, as much as we both loved each other and had since early childhood, would I proceed with the divorce even if she didn't go through with it.

I told him it was simple. All women carry a stubbornness gene I call the "Eve Gene" that's passed down from Eve herself in the Garden of Eden. Once tempted or made curious, it has to be satisfied, either right now, next year, or ten years from now. It gnaws away at them like a dog with a bone until eventually that particular itch is scratched. I said, "I won't spend a lifetime waiting for the other shoe to fall. We were planning to start our family in three months, and if we have children, I cannot break up our family with a divorce to be a weekend father with little or no input in my children's upbringing; and I will not be another man's cuckold. My only option then would be murder/suicide with a family member rearing our orphans. So, as much as I love her and always will, divorce now is the only answer." He said he hated to see us break up, but he could find no flaw in my logic.

I walked about aimlessly for at least two hours and when I got back home, Mary was in bed reading. When I got into bed, she came on to me all sweetness and sex, but I told her I didn't feel very loving just then, turned off my bedside lamp, turned my back to her, and feigned sleep.

The following morning Mary was very loving and in fact had gotten up early and prepared my breakfast, something I usually did for her since I left for work a half-hour earlier than she. I asked, no I begged her not to go through with her planned assignation. Her response was sweet but non-committal and she added that he had already paid for the beach-front cottage they were to use. I exploded and yelled, "I'LL REPAY HIM FOR THE GOD-DAMNED RENT!!!" as I grabbed my briefcase and stormed out the door. As soon as I got into my car, I called Marty at home and asked if he could get his in-house investigator to find out Wally's address, phone number, any past affairs, the location of the beach cottage, and any rental agreement information. He told me he would contact his investigation team as soon as I got off the line and assured me he would have everything except the past affairs by mid-morning and information on the affairs by Friday

At 10:15 that morning, Marty called me in my office and told me to check my e-mail. While still on the phone with Marty, I opened his e-mail and there was everything he had promised including a copy of the cottage rental agreement signed by the asshole. I thanked him profusely and told him I had work to do with what he had sent to me.

I called Carola Thornton, introduced myself, and asked if I could possibly come by in a few minutes for a short chat. She said she remembered me as Mary's husband from the firm's Christmas Party the year-before-last, shortly after they had married. She said she was breast-feeding her baby at the moment, and asked if I could give her about an hour, and then she would be glad to have a chat. An hour later I was ringing her doorbell.

Carola answered the door with only a touch of light-colored lipstick to enhance her looks, and once again I was struck by the true beauty of this petite Sicilian woman, although she seemed to have lost a bit of weight from what I remembered from the Christmas Party, unusual since she had a baby just three months earlier. She extended her hand, and as I shook it she said, "Welcome to our home, Tom, your phone call piqued my curiosity, and I just had to hear what you wanted to chat about." 'There's that Eve Gene again,' I thought to myself.

As she led me through to her family room, she offered, "Would you care for coffee?" I noticed a coffee service and carafe of coffee on the coffee table as I answered that I would indeed like coffee. After she had served our coffees and offered me excellent biscotti, she asked, "How may I be of help; what did you want to talk about?"

"Your husband Walter and my wife have been talking at work, and when she told me what he had told her, I didn't understand what she was talking about, and when she couldn't explain it to me, I thought I'd go to the source for my explanation," I said.

"And just what is this mystery that has brought you to me for enlightenment?" she asked with a smile.

"Your husband told my wife that the two of you were in an open marriage; he told her that you both freely engage in sexual activities with partners outside your marriage and that the "reclaiming sex" as he called it that you share with each other following the return from one of your trysts is the best sex ever. He used that fact as one of his ways to talk my wife into spending the upcoming Memorial Day weekend with him in an ocean-front cottage at Rehoboth Beach," I told her bitterly.

"Tom, I can assure you," she said with confidence, "We do not have an open marriage; quite the contrary, it is rigidly closed."

"He also belittled my manhood, bragging about the size of his cock and also bragging that he had fucked every woman in Mary's office except her. Tell me, Carola, just how big is his cock, have you ever measured it?"

"Oh yes, I've measured it," she said, "I've measured it many times; his cock size is an obsession with him. He's seven and three-quarters inches long and one and three-eighths inches across at its widest point. I think he's hoping that someday I'll measure him at eight inches long," she said with a chuckle.

"Well, if they go through with it, Mary's in for a big surprise and a big disappointment," I said.

"And why's that," Carola asked curiously.

"Because my penis is eleven inches long and two and three-quarters inches thick," I told her. "Mary and I were virgins when we married. Apparently I come from a long line of heavily-endowed males. My dad warned me of this before our wedding and told me to use lots of lubricant, take everything slow and easy, and to let Mary set the pace. It was the third night of our honeymoon before Mary could take the whole thing, although somewhat uncomfortably, and the fifth night before she really began to enjoy it. Since then it's been Katie-bar-the-door; she can't seem to get enough of it. Since mine is the only one she's ever known, I'm sure she thinks they were all the same; heaven knows what's she's expecting from Asshole - I'm sorry, that's how I think of your husband."

"Tom, I'm sure our spouses have had some pretty raunchy conversations at work, and I know Walter likes to brag about his cock, but you are mistaken about their going away together this coming weekend. My husband will be in Philadelphia all of the Memorial Day weekend at a golf tournament; he never misses a tournament. I hate to tell you this, but I fear your wife knew of Walter's golf trip and has viciously used my husband as an unwitting pawn in her own nefarious plans to explain her actions," she responded as any good wife would when faced with her husband's possible infidelity; she was no longer smiling.

"Carola, your reaction was exactly what I'd expect of a faithful and loving wife in defense of her husband," I said compassionately. "There is no way I could ever imagine any husband allowing and even encouraging a woman as beautiful and loving as you to freely have sex with other men.

"It just didn't make any sense to me, since it would mean that the identity of your baby's father would be in question. That is why it pains and shames me to share with you something I have brought with me," I told her as I opened my brief case and handed her a document I took out of it. I watched in sadness as she first recognized what the document was, then saw her face go from shock to horror, and finally to intense anger as she recognized the rental contract for the beach-front cottage, its location, the period of rental and remuneration, and finally the typed name and well-recognized signature of her husband Walter Thornton.

Her anger had transformed her beauty into something truly frightening as she said through gritted teeth, "Tom, I can assure you that this assignation will never take place. You see, I am the baby of a first-generation Sicilian family of ten siblings and the only female. My nine older brothers will see to it my husband will never physically be able to keep this tryst nor ever again desire another, if he even survives."

"Carola, I asked my wife if she had considered the possibility of contracting STDs from her tryst, and she said, 'Oh, Wally assured me he's clean as he only has sex with married women.' I asked her if she was listening to herself. I told her that she had just told me that he bragged and her girlfriends confirmed that he'd had his cock in every pussy in the office except hers and I pointed out that over half of the thirty-five women in her office were single. I went on to remind her that if a married woman would cheat with him, they would cheat with others, and that cheating wives usually did most of their cheating with strange men that picked them up in bars on 'Girls Night Out' where most of the screwing was quickies in the back seat of a car in the parking lot. I strongly advise that you heed the warning I gave to my wife and get yourself tested for STDs," I warned.

I told her that I understood her shock and pain as I had experienced equal pain since my wife had told me of her plans the previous evening. I told her that with no large family of my own to share my pain, I did the only thing I could think of, bring it to her attention and hope that what her husband had told my wife was indeed a lie and that somehow I could relay that to my wife before it was too late. As I rose to leave, she stood and hugged me and we both held each other tightly and cried great sobs for several minutes until I was finally able to leave.

I drove to Marty's office and found that his investigators had already collected quite the file on Carola's philandering husband. I told him all about my visit to Carola and everything we told each other. After I told him about her nine older first-generation Sicilian brothers and what they were likely to do to Wally, he and I spent the rest of the afternoon planning all the things I had to do, the places I had to be, and the people I had to be with to ensure I had every second accounted for between now and Friday afternoon and ironclad alibies for every second so I couldn't be accused of whatever was to befall Asshole. I finally left, arriving home at my usual time.