The Other Foot

THE OTHER FOOT

Cheating cuts both ways. Something for everyone--to hate.

Please read the Standard Disclaimer on Alextasy's biography page.

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Tiny raindrops are tapping on the tin roof. Brenda shoves another double Jack in front of me and hauls away the empty. This is only my second round, but I've got plenty of time. It's not quite two o'clock. I might even last till eight or nine before she stuffs me into a cab back to the house. That'll be three times in the last week. Or maybe four. My keys are already on the bar. I hope I don't puke this time.

It's a rainy, dreary Tuesday afternoon at The Hawg Heaven. This place has been around as long as I can remember. Until recently, it wasn't my sort of bar. Now I'm feelin' right at home.

Hank Williams cranks up 'Your Cheatin' Heart' again.

The bar still has a real jukebox with actual 45rpm records that you can play for a quarter. Most of them are from the 50's and 60's. I can't figure out who the fuck keeps selecting G-3. I'm the only one here besides Brenda, and she hasn't moved from behind the bar.

I like Brenda. She's not anything like what you'd call pretty. Neither is my wife, but Brenda's a whole different class of not-pretty. Sorta' makes me think of a red-headed sow--short stubby nose, round face, and a body like a freckled sumo wrestler. She doesn't take shit from anybody. Half the tats covering her skin have a Harley theme. The other half are references to something called the 'Skull Riders'. Her left nipple is the center of a black swastika. On a bet she pulled her wife-beater up to show me one afternoon last week.

Maybe I shoulda' married her. At least I'd know what I was getting. No lies or half-truths. She fucks who she wants, when she wants. I'll bet she can swallow a whole cock without gagging. Just like my wife did.

Except my wife never did it for me. Not once in twelve goddamned years. The most she could handle was about half before she choked on it. After the one time when she threw up, she didn't even try any more.

She sure seemed to enjoy inhaling her lover's dick, though. My sweet little Amber was all smiles after he shot half his load deep in her throat then pulled out to spray the rest all over her face.

Damn, it hurts. The whiskey numbs the brain, but I don't think anything will ever erase the images in my head or heal the stabbing pain in my chest. She says she's sorry. The deceitful cunt doesn't know what sorry is. I oughta haul Brenda back to our house and fuck her like crazy on our bed. Then I could record the whole thing and send it to Amber anonymously like some sick fuck did to me. Let's see how she feels when the shoe's on the other foot.

I'm deep in my thoughts and don't notice when another man comes in. He slides onto the stool next to me. I give him a glance. He's older, more salt than pepper in his hair. That gray silk suit is all wrong for a dive like this. It fits his broad frame too well to be off-the-rack. He looks like a bank VP. Probably went to some hoity-toity college up north. Or worse, Duke.

"Jack, neat. Make it a double," he tells Brenda.

Okay, so he's not all bad. Any friend of Jack's is a friend of mine. I raise my tumbler.

"Most people call me Simon," he says, extending his hand.

"Richard," I answer with a friendly shake.

"Great little bar here, Richard," he says, peering around at the simple decor--if you can call rough-hewn walls and rusted Schlitz and Harley signs a 'decor'. Simon nods and says, "Yeah, this is the sort of place a man can feel like a real man, y'know?"

I have to snort, shaking my head. I don't feel like much of a man these days. I guess that's sorta' why I'm here, hoping to soak up some semblance of manhood from the stench of stale beer. If nothin' else, I'll get pickled enough to forget for a few hours.

My new friend says, "Wish we had a decent hangout like this around Durham."

Shit. I knew it. A Dookie. Better keep my mouth shut about going to Carolina. I just met the guy and don't want Brenda to have ta' pull us apart. Not that I'd be able to take him. Simon's a big guy. Maybe I might feel better if somebody beat the crap out of me, though.

"What brings ya' down to Charlotte?" I ask. "You slumming?"

He has a deep, jovial laugh. "Just dropped into town to catch up with an old acquaintance."

Brenda slides his drink to him. He takes a long, slow sip, then pauses to savor the burn.

"How about you?" he asks. "A regular?"

"Only a coupla' weeks. I haven't been much of a drinker since my college days," I tell him. I swallow another long drink myself and shake it off "My wife found a new boyfriend, so I'm gettin' to know my good buddy Jack again."

Brenda shoots me a look. She's not happy. She knows my story. She thinks I'm an idiot. That didn't stop her from offering a revenge fuck if I'd stay sober long enough. That's a tough choice. She's lookin' better every time I come in. Such a cute little pug nose. Just like my wife's.

"Want to talk about it?" Simon says, then takes another sip.

It's sort of Schadenfreude in reverse--I haven't quite figured out why, but reliving the agony seems to be its own perverse pleasure. I don't get a boner about it, or nothin'. I think I'm hoping that one of these times I'm gonna hear myself come up with the magic solution to the drenching shit storm of my life. So far, nothin' makes sense. That might be what hurts worst of all.

I notice Simon's ring finger. It's empty.

"Ever been married?" I ask.

He nods. "Once. A long time ago." The pinched lips and distant, pained look in his eyes tell me he's got his own story to tell. He says, "What happened with yours?"

Tossing back another mouthful, I'm feelin' the warm glow. I launch into my well-worn yarn while I'm not slurring too bad.

"She wasn't the girl of my dreams. Hell, you probably wouldn't even give her a second look if you saw her on the street," I tell him. He doesn't need to know why I chose to marry a woman like that. "She was a good wife, though. I thought our marriage was solid. I was home nearly every night, gave her a house in a nice neighborhood. Two great kids..."

Tears are clouding my eyes again. Damn, I miss my kids. Simon waits while I gather myself so I can go on.

"I just can't understand why the stupid cunt went off the rails. I mean, sure, we had our problems. Nothin' too big. You know how it is. I guess any romance can turn a little stale after twelve years."

"Twelve years, huh?" Simon says, raising a brow. "Mine didn't last much longer."

"So, you and me, we're on the same wavelength here. Things weren't perfect but it was damned good. We loved each other. Well, so I thought. I never saw it comin'. I mean, my wife, she was always the sweetest, most dependable and honest person I ever knew. She acted disgusted if another guy ever came onto her."

The sad truth is, next to her looks that was one of the reasons I'd married Amber. When we met she was just coming off a long-term relationship with a boy who'd been screwin' around on her for years. I was a little older and she liked being with a man who had his head on his shoulders and was ready to settle down.

I hadn't always been so virtuous. I played fast and loose with the girls in my college days. Even messed around with a few married women. They were the best. The hot-blooded, older wives loved a young, hard cock that rebounded in minutes instead of hours like their old geezer husbands. I learned to be patient, play to their vanities, then fucked 'em like twenty-dollar whores. Most of 'em wanted me to push them around and take what I wanted, all rough and demanding. I was amazed at how easy it was.

So, after scoring with all those easy sluts I wanted a wife I knew I could trust, not some hot babe who was constantly gonna be chased by all the slick studs like I'd been.

The jukebox cranks up again on its own. Some sort of island rhythm. "If you wanna be happy for the rest of your life..." At least it's not G-3.

Amber had a homely, round face with a pudgy nose and a lazy left eye that always looked crossed. When we started dating her body was pleasantly round with plenty of handles for me to grab onto. Her tits were sorta' flabby. They got bigger after the kids came but she never got rid of the spare tire.

I didn't mind at all. Amber was an easy person to love. She was good-natured and witty and honest and big-hearted. Mostly, I knew that woman adored me. She would do just about anything I asked. My wife practically lived to take my cum into my choice of her holes. Except for the throat thing, she never refused me.

The experience with her cheatin' boyfriend had left her outraged at the thought of infidelity. Even if some guy could get past her face and her body I was certain she would never consider looking outside our marriage.

How could I have been so blind?

"You can't trust a woman, Richard," Simon says.

"You got that right," I tell him, shakin' my head. The sour look on Brenda's face makes me quickly backpedal. "Of course, there are exceptions to every rule."

She rolls her eyes and heads off toward the kitchen. She's smiling, though. Maybe tonight's gonna be the night I remind myself what it's like to fuck a woman instead of making love with her. It's been nearly two weeks since my 'little Richard' got any tutti-fruity. A night of rough, wild-hog sex would be good for my soul. I oughta' go easier on the Jack.

My new friend Simon says, "So, how did you find out, Richard? Did you come home early and find her fucking him? Did she rub it in your face and tell you she was going to start dating other guys?"

I shrug. "It was the weirdest thing. A DVD marked 'Amber' arrived at the office for me a couple of Fridays ago. I got one of our techies to check it out, and he said he couldn't find any viruses on it. I shoulda paid more attention to the smirk on his face. I watched it in my office. I...I was..."

"Devastated."

"Yeah," I agree quietly, barely holding back the tears. "My wife, and some guy. I never saw his face. The video was taken right there in our bedroom."

"Your own bed, huh? I'll bet that hurt like hell. Did they talk shit about you?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, biting my quivering lip. Silently, I curse the things he made her say--how much more exciting he was than me, how much she loved the way he fucked her so rough, and how he satisfied her needs like I'd never done. The bastard had held her down and made her come over and over. I was lucky to get an occasional orgasm out of her when we made love. After listening to the noises she made with him, I knew she must have been faking with me.

The kicker was the pride and absolute joy on her face when she looked up at him with her round nose buried in his pubes after he forced her to suck him down her throat.

Simon asks, "Did you figure out where the video came from?"

"That's just it. I don't have a damned clue. It was mailed from right here in town. The only thing I can guess is that the guy's wife must've gotten some evidence and sent it to me."

"What have you done about it?"

In a fury, I yell, "I kicked the lyin' bitch out of the house. The cheatin' cunt is gonna pay for what she done to me. If I get my way, she's gonna end up with nothin'. Nothing! I've closed her out of any money or credit. I'm talkin' to a lawyer tomorrow. If he can arrange it I'm gonna get my children back from her and she ain't never gonna fucking see them again!"

Just as quick, my anger deflates. "I don't know what I'm gonna do about the kids. She's got 'em right now. I miss them so much. I can't work and babysit, too, but I can't stand the idea of leaving them around that slut and all the men she's probably fuckin'."

"You have to keep the pressure on," Simon says. "She's got to learn she can't fuck around on you and get away with it. Do you think this is the first time?"

"How the hell would I know? I wouldn't believe her if she told me." A new fear hasn't occurred to me until this moment. "For all I know the children I raised came from some other man's dick."

My heart feels like a giant hand is squeezing it. For a few seconds I can hardly breathe. I toss back the rest of my drink. Brenda is johnny-on-the-spot with a refill.

"I still can't believe she would do it," I mumble after a minute or two of silent despair. "Of all people. I thought we were good. She still insists that she loves me. I don't know what love is any more."

"Love is sort of like God," Simon says quietly. "You can't see it. You read about it, and it all sounds fantastic. You're never quite sure it's real. Then something terrible happens. An innocent four-year-old gets leukemia. Half a million people die from starvation. A woman decides her husband isn't enough. Everything you wanted to believe in crumbles to dust."

I had believed. I was forsaken.

He says, "That's when faith is tested. Most of us don't pass the test. We give in to the cruel beast inside. Reason and hope are lost. Darkness and chaos reign."

Yes, 'darkness and chaos'... That's exactly how it feels.

Linda Rondstadt starts singing 'You're No Good'. She's got a great voice. Hot lookin' woman, too. Then I think about how much her round face reminds me of my wife's and I have to wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

Turning toward my compatriot in misery, I ask, "What was it that tested your faith?"

Simon turns his glass in his fingers, staring into it.

"She was the best wife a man could ever want," he says. "My precious jewel."

The word hitches in my alcohol-fogged brain. How many times had I called Amber by her pet name--'my Jewel'?

Simon sounds reverent. "From our first date I knew she was the woman for me. She was clever and funny, with bright eyes and a smile that made my heart glow. When my bad temper flared up, she had a way of talking me down. You couldn't imagine a more loving and caring wife and mother."

Simon finishes off his drink and pushes it across the bar. He nods to Brenda, and soon a fresh tumbler slides in front of him. He drinks half of it down in one gulp, then shakes it off.

"She was hot as blazes in bed." His quiet tone is now dry and lifeless. "I guess that's a double-edged sword, y'know? Obviously, she needed more than I was giving her."

I've been struggling with that. What did I miss? Amber and I played around with lots of kinky things over the years. I thought she was happy with our sex life. Was there something else I could have done to keep her from looking elsewhere? Or was it just the thrill of a little flirting that went too far?

With her attitude toward infidelity, I simply couldn't imagine what a man might do that could tempt my shy, angelic wife to cheat on me.

Simon says, "I came home and heard them upstairs. The sounds she was making...there was no question what was going on."

"What did you do? Sneak upstairs and crash their party? Beat the shit outa' the asshole who ruined your marriage?"

I'm hoping for a heavy dose of revenge, even if it's vicarious. I have no idea who the guy in the video with Amber was. She called him Lance. As much as I blame her for what she's done, I would never hit her. I sure would love to get my hands on that wife-stealing sonofabitch, though.

When I turn my attention back to Simon, he's looking at me with a strange expression.

"No, I didn't confront them." He sounds sad. "Maybe I should have. We would all probably be in a much different place today."

"How did you handle it?" I ask.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he says, "I was numb at first. I couldn't do a thing. I went to the kitchen in the back of the house and got a drink. I sat at the kitchen table, letting a cold rage build while I listened to my wife scream and beg him to fuck her while he called her filthy names. She had one orgasm after another. Then she pleaded with him to put his big cock in her ass again. She had always insisted that orifice was 'exit only'."

Amber's back door was always open to me. She had an orgasm nearly every time, sometimes twice. She once told me it made her feel special, like I 'owned' her. I wasn't sure if her lover had 'owned' her. It wasn't on the video, and I hadn't asked. That didn't matter. It was enough that the bastard got her last virginity--her throat.

Simon says, "When they were done, her paramour snuck out through the front door. I simply waited for my wife. It was another fifteen minutes before she came into the kitchen. She screamed when she saw me. All it took was one look and she knew."

"I guess you divorced her."

The icy hatred in his eyes makes me shiver.

"I destroyed her," he says without a touch of emotion. He takes a long drink. "I punched her in the stomach then slapped her to the floor. It was the first time I'd ever struck her. After she got her breath, I jerked her up by her hair and made her suck me until I was hard. Then I raped my wife without mercy. I needed to re-claim her and didn't give a damn about diseases or anything else."

Maybe I shoulda' done that when I learned about Amber's betrayal. After what she done to me, I didn't really care whether I lived or died. I still ain't made up my mind. I woke up one morning last week with my nine-mil on the bedside table. I don't know how it got there.

"It wasn't enough. I went crazy," he says. "I hauled her naked into the back yard and sprayed her down with the hose. I stuck the nozzle inside her filthy cunt and turned it on full blast. Then I shoved it in her butt. I made her get me hard again with her mouth so I could rape her ass. No lube."

Shit... He wasn't kidding about his temper.

Simon says, "When I was done with her I dragged her by the hair to the front yard and tossed her into the street, naked, soaking wet, bleeding and screaming. Then I went inside and locked the door. She banged on the doors and windows, but I was busy shutting down accounts and sending emails to everyone we knew, telling them what she'd done."

"Kicked the cheatin' whore out and turned off the money faucet, just like I did! Way to go!" I raise my glass to him and take a drink.

He gives me another one of those strange, forlorn looks. I guess somewhere down the line I'll probably wonder if I done the right thing by gettin' rid of the worthless slut I married.

Simon says, "Somebody gave her a ride to her sister's house down in Fayetteville. Every time we talked, I yelled at her and cursed her and wouldn't let her say anything. Our daughter Christine refused to have anything to do with her after I told her that her mother decided she didn't want her any more. I mailed my wife a cashier's check for fifteen dollars and twenty-nine cents."

Scrunching up my brow, I ask, "What was that for?"

"That's all the cash that was left from the yard sale where I sold everything that belonged to her, including our bed. It would have been more, but I paid for the title transfer on her car."

I snicker. This guy really stuck it to his ex. I'm gettin' a lotta good ideas.

"What about the asshole who ruined her? Didja' ever catch up with him?"

Simon takes a sip of his Jack, giving me another one of those funny looks over the rim of his glass.

"It took me years to find him," he tells me. "He was married by then."

"Hot damn!" I laugh. "Fuckin' payback time!"

For the first time, I see a glimmer of a smile on his lips. This is gonna be good!

He says, "I followed his wife and arranged for her to see me regularly at this little neighborhood coffee shop she went to every day."

I know the sorta place. My wife and I used to go to the Java Hut near our house on Saturday mornings. She loves the mocha latte. I'm fine with plain black coffee.

Simon tells me, "For a week or so we nodded and smiled at each other. Then, one day when all the other tables were full I asked if I could sit with her. She wasn't very talkative at first. After a few days she opened up. Soon we were best friends. Things moved pretty quick once I figured out she had a hidden submissive streak."