The Joke is On You, My Dear

Sandy smiled, "That's easy. I have credit card and a checking account in my name alone for my writing business and expenses. He never sees any of that."

Sandy gave an amused chuckle, "Of course, I make a point to periodically transfer money from various joint accounts to my private account to cover my adultery expenses. I just like the idea of David paying the costs of his wife sleeping with another man. It tickles my funny bone."

This latest revelation elicited more laughter from the other women. Sandy opened a third bottle of White Burgundy and refilled glasses. The women were thoroughly enjoying their impromptu, Bacchian revelry.

Gina chuckled and added, "Sandy, Beth and I plant the horns on our cuckold husbands for fun. You did it for revenge over your husband's stupid Mardi Gras prank. Boy, is that ever a great payback on a husband for doing something really dumb."

Paula asked, "What in the world does cuckold really mean and what's with that horn thing?"

Gina, with the well-exercised string of studs on the side, laughed, "I have a personal interest in the topic actually. It goes back to English traditions starting maybe in the 1400s. The term 'cuckold' probably springs from the old English word for cuckoo. The female cuckoo has a habit of laying eggs in other birds' nests. Hence, the male cuckoos, or in our case our cuckold husbands, have their female cuckoo mates, us wives in our case, playing around in some stranger's nest.

"The horns thing can refer to either ram or stag horns. These traditionally have symbolic connotations of strength, virility, and even the devil. In the simplest explanation, the male stag fights another male stag for the privilege of mating with the female. If a male stag loses to another male, the winning male gets to mate with the loser's female. Hence, the horns denote a male supplanted by a stronger, more virile male that gets to screw the female that previously belonged to the weaker male."

Beth chuckled, "So when Gina says we put the horns on our cuckold husbands, she is just saying we are spreading our legs for some other man or men besides our husbands. We, the wives, are actually the misbehaving ones here, but our society always ridicules the cuckold husband and not the cheating wife. "

Gina chimed in, "The popular interpretation is the cuckold husband's masculine virility is insufficient to satisfy his wife sexually so she turns to other more potent men to fulfill her carnal needs. Ergo, the wife's infidelity is justified because of her husband's sexual inadequacy."

Beth continued, "In mine and Gina's case needing or at least wanting more sex is the driver. Sandy was motivated by revenge. In the end, damn good sex is the fun part of the cuckold game for the wives."

Paula laughed, "Goodness, my new friends are quite a naughty bunch but very interesting company. I love it."

Gina stared intently at Sandy and whispered conspiratorially, "Okay Sandy, the truth and nothing but the truth. Have you been back to Santa Fe ... alone that is?"

Sandy smiled enigmatically and then after a pregnant pause whispered, "Let's just say Hector enriches my life both recreationally and artistically. So the answer is yes, very definitely yes."

This was greeted with giggles and head shaking by the other three women.

Beth chuckled, "Oh you naughty, naughty girl! Now how often do you go to Santa Fe to get your fire lit?"

Sandy smiled, "Oh, every four to six weeks. When David is traveling mainly. I have faked travel twice for my writing work when David was inconveniently staying home for too long, and I was in the mood for a little naughty."

Paula asked with upraised eyebrows, "And do you and Hector have a new artistic nude project together?"

Sandy broke into a sunny smile, "As a matter of fact, we are about halfway through one that is to hang in the bar at a ski resort in Colorado. It's not quite as racy as my first one, but I am quite naked in it. I'll share a picture with you when we finish the painting."

Paula challenged Sandy with, "You are playing with fire! What are you going to do if your husband finds out. Boys generally don't like to share their bedroom toys with other boys and sometimes get quite excitable."

Sandy nodded her head in agreement, "That can certainly be inconvenient. However, David is a lover not a fighter. A city boy who spends his time in offices and traveling." Sandy shrugged, "I am a west Texas ranch girl. I shoot a pistol far better than David, at the gym I bench press more weight than he does, plus I have a six-foot-six cowboy brother who dotes on his little sister. I think I am safe in that department.

Sandy grinned mischievously, "You know, I find that I quite enjoy this new arrangement with a full-time husband and a periodic, but not too frequent, out-of-town artist lover. You don't want your illicit lover inconveniently underfoot. This new arrangement certainly adds pizzazz to my life!

"So now, if I am found out, either David accepts my new arrangement, as Beth's husband does for her, or I fleece him in divorce court. I have my own money anyway, and don't need his. That, of course, would not stop me from emptying his wallet just for spite."

Sandy smiled placidly as she drifted back to reality at the bar. She sipped her Martini. That was a fun and very alcoholic hen party discussing the painting. Happily all three of the girls and their husbands were attending tonight's party.

The shock value of the painting had started to wane after a year though. Tonight she would put herself on display in the flesh rather than relying only on her oil painting to add a little ooh la la to the gathering. The dress designer had delivered her new party dress yesterday, and they had made the final adjustments to ensure the fit.

This dress was going to be more daring than anything she had ever worn in public before. It was a long, scarlet red, silk halter dress with a plunging neckline in front that exposed her navel. The back was bare and went further down than the front! A slit on each side of the dress ran up almost to her hip. There would be no way to wear anything under the dress. All that stood between her and and public nakedness was the thin clingy silk fabric that left a scandalous amount of her bare as it was. This dress was something you'd expect to see on the red carpet at the Oscars, not at a Dallas cocktail party.

Not many women of any age could get away with wearing something like this. Sandy could thank good genes and hard work at the gym that she could. She would have to be meticulous in stature and posture tonight to avoid a wardrobe catastrophe. Even so, someone standing close to her might catch glimpses of her very private real estate, especially if her posture slipped. But then again, almost all of her private real estate was already on display in the painting. Oh yes, she would make quite the splash tonight.

Sandy heard David come in from the garage. She called out, "I'm back here at the bar, baby. Come have a drink with me before the guests arrive."

Sandy chuckled with a malicious smirk. It was no fun to play a practical joke on one's husband and then for said husband to never know he was the butt of the joke.

Sandy poured David's Martini and placed it to one side. Sandy had spent four hours that morning at the beauty salon getting her blond hair dyed a brilliant coppery auburn to match the painting. She really liked the way she looked as a red head.

She substituted a simple gold wedding ring for her more ornate set and walked behind the bar. She let the dressing gown she wore fall by her feet, and then naked, Sandy swung herself up on the bar. She mimicked the painting pose with her fingers spread enough that she could watch David's reaction.

David walked into the den and stopped dead in his tracks with his mouth agape. His gaze flitted from his naked and now red-headed wife to the matching painting of her hanging behind the bar.

Sandy laughed, sat up, and sang out "Aril Fool, dear."

She hopped off the bar, picked up David's Martini, and walked to her speechless husband with seductively swaying hips.

"My God, Sandy ..." David started.

Sandy laughed and put a finger on David's lips as she murmured, "Shh, shh, now baby. Tonight I am the star of the show and get to choose when and how I reveal my tricks."

Sandy handed David his drink and smirked while she explained, "At Mardi Gras the joke was on me, but this time, my dear, the joke is on you!" She shook her newly red hair at him sexily and murmured seductively, "And everyone will soon know it was your friend Hector who was nailing your sweet wife's hot ass when you traveled and then Hector sold you the painted record of your wife's adultery."

David's eyes glinted with surprise on hearing some of his same words echoed by his wife, and his face sagged with shock at the truth.

Laughing gleefully, the naked Sandy sashayed with swinging hips to the rear of the bar and picked up her gown. She propped on the bar and took a sip of her Martini. She waved for David to come over saying, "Come sit here at the bar, dear. Have a drink with your wife. Admire my painting with new understanding now that you know the truth. There is a pitcher of Martini's made, in case you need some Dutch courage to face the night."

David followed her to the bar and sat down heavily. He took a sip of his Martini, and then started, "Look Sandy, I ..."

Sandy shushed her husband again with a finger across his lips. "Hush, Dear. Not tonight. If you want, we can discuss it more tomorrow.

Sandy smiled cynically, "But let's not be hypocritical. The males in our crowd are mostly older, rich, and powerful men with bright, young, beautiful, trophy wives. A number of these men also have mistresses, procure the services of whores, and enjoy the random sexpot while on the road. In the same vein, a number of these trophy wives liven up their leisure time with lovers. In our little Peyton Place, my cheating on you is not any big deal.

Sandy watched her mute husband with amusement. Poor David looked like a forlorn ten-year-old little boy caught in some mischief by his teacher and who was being marched to the office where the headmaster awaited with the paddle.

Sandy laughed sardonically as she mocked her husband, "Oh baby, this is the spanking you have deserved for years. All of those people, including me, whom you have tricked and teased with your practical jokes over the years will show you no mercy. You can expect plenty of ribald teasing from both the men and the women, and there will be plenty of snickering behind your back."

David looked at Sandy woefully and muttered, "And now what am I to do?"

Sandy gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders saying quietly, "It's your choice. Tonight I am in charge of the show and you know where I am going with that. You have essentially three choices on how to react."

She held up one finger, the middle finger. "You can throw a fit and divorce me. Then I will take a big chunk of your money, get the house, and enjoy the fun life of the gay and very rich divorcee. That option also means you will lose access to that, as you so eloquently phrased it, sweet piece of ass hanging on the wall."

She held up her index finger. "You can go cower in the master suite with a bottle of gin and hide from the guests and my revelations. But the fact of what I did to you will still be there tomorrow, and sooner or later, you have to face it."

She held up her ring finger, "Or you can recognize you are just getting your comeuppance for all the mean pranks and tricks you have played on people over the years. Many of them you played on me were full of sexual innuendos and were pretty ribald. I am just taking that nasty little trick you pulled on me at the Mardi Gras party and turning the tables. I am doing as you implied then that I was doing - I really am screwing another man for fun behind your back ,and an artist to record it no less! I suggest you just suck it up and take what you have coming to you."

Sandy gave David a beaming sunny smile, "Honey don't fret about it so. You are hardly going to be the only cuckold at the party. Why, they say cheating among married women has increased forty percent in recent years. The statistics are all over the place but somewhere between 14 and 40 percent of wives cheat on their husbands. Given the dynamics of our crowd, I suspect the number is at the upper end or even higher than the statistics say.

"So of the 45 women at the party tonight, statistics suggest 7 to 18 of them cheat on their husbands. I know for sure three of us attending have active ongoing affairs. The gossip is that at least a dozen more are or recently have been having affairs. Heaven alone knows how many I have not heard about!"

Sandy patted David's arm consolingly, 'See baby, you have plenty of company. Now, you may be one of the few husbands who actually knows for sure he is a cuckold!"

David replied dryly, "A honor I could probably do without knowing about."

Sandy tossed her hair and smiled mischievously, "Well dear, since I am letting the cat out of the bag, so to speak, at tonight's party, I thought you would like to know first!"

Sandy smiled as she murmured with feigned sympathy, "Poor boy! What a shock this must be to your male ego. Well, dear, this time I get to be the prankster and you get to be my victim."

David shook his head in confused amazement. He gave a wry smile and clicked the tip of Sandy's Martini glass with his. "Touche! I think I have been bested at my own game."

Sandy finished her drink and put the glass in the sink. She gave David a beaming smile as she said chirpily, "You certainly have been! Tonight the joke is on you.

Well, I must be off and get dressed to greet our guests. I am sure everyone will just love my new red hair and will enjoy my painting, especially given this new revelation that your wife is the naked and well-laid centerpiece!"

Sandy walked across the den but stopped at the door and looked back. David was sipping his Martini while he gazed at the painting of his naked wife on the wall.

Sandy figured at least half of the people coming to the party would ask her point blank at some point tonight if she was the woman in the painting. She would blush becomingly and confess she was. About half of that group would then ask if the man in the painting was her lover. After beating around the bush for decorum's sake, Sandy would admit the mystery man was indeed her lover. A smaller handful composed of wives and mistresses would press for more. Sandy would let them pull the lascivious details, including the Hector's pubic hair joke, out of her, one by one.

Everything that went on and that was said here tonight would be all over town before the sun came up tomorrow. Social media would see to that task more effectively than a full page ad in the 'Dallas Daily Morning News.'

Sandy grinned with satisfaction. Shortly she would very publicaly induct her husband into that grand horned society: Ye Olde And Ancient Royal Order of the Cuckold.

Oh, that ancient society's membership roster was legion and did not discriminate. The husbands on the roster encompassed men of all kinds: wise and foolish, rich and poor, handsome and homely, honorable and dishonorable, knaves and heroes. Their professions spanned the spectrum: king to peasant, farmer to merchant, politician to soldier, professor to tavern keeper, banker to beggar, it did not matter.

Sandy giggled; most of the poor devils probably never even knew they were members of the grand olde horned society! That, however, was certainly not the case with David. Sandy would publicly expose his full membership status tonight in front of his friends and colleagues and their wives.

Sandy turned and trotted up the stairs to the master bedroom suite to dress. She giggled as she whispered to herself, "Oh, you men may have much of the power in this ol' world, but it is the wife alone who decides if, when, and where she will bestow membership in Ye Olde And Ancient Royal Order of the Cuckold upon her husband."