The Other Foot

"Oh, man! That's perfect!" I chuckle. "I'll bet the stupid cunt was practically beggin' for you to take control."

Early in our marriage Amber had asked me to be more forceful with her sometimes. We played around and I gave her some spankings. She seemed to enjoy it. The whole thing reminded me of the way I used the women I screwed around with in college. I loved my wife too much to treat her like that.

Simon's grin is bigger now.

"His wife got excited when I started making her do things." he says. "Little things at first, like bringing me a napkin. Soon I had her showing up without any panties and flashing me. It was a short hop from there to their bedroom. I spent all day fucking her in his bed. She came over and over. I recorded the whole thing on my phone, even the part where I made her swallow my whole cock down her throat. She had never done that for her husband."

The blood drains from my face. I'm instantly sober. No, it can't be. The video is etched into my memory. The guy between my wife's legs, his hairy butt flexing, relentlessly slamming his dick into her pussy while she screamed. He was a big guy, about the same size as Simon, but he had jet black hair without a touch of silver.

How hard would it be to dye his hair?

My throat feels like it's full of sand. I gulp as my mind races to figure out my next move.

"S-Simon...?"

"Yeah, Richie?" he smirks.

The name hits me like a sledgehammer to the stomach. Amber is the only person who calls me 'Richie'.

Stammering, I ask him, "I...I don't think you told me your full name."

"It's Simon," he says, cocking his head as if I'm an idiot. "Simon Lance."

Oh, shit...

I can think of only one reason he's here.

"Your wife--your ex-wife...?" I ask, shaking with terror.

Simon aims the narrow slits of his eyes at me. "Her name was Grace."

The word leaves his mouth and floats in the space between us like a bullet caught in freeze frame, hovering in a deadly trajectory that began half a lifetime ago. Everything is now clear to me.

Of course. It had to be Grace.

Grace. Spring of my senior year. The petite and lively honey-blonde housewife with the impish smile. She volunteered at the tutoring center on campus. I knew the material but kept coming back for help. It took longer than most to wear her down. I was always her last student of the day and usually walked her to her car.

One night I kissed her. Grace objected in the usual way--"We shouldn't..." When I kissed her neck, just below her ear, she gasped and pulled me against her dainty body. My hand was in her panties before she broke away.

"Rich! Don't do that again," she said as firm as she could with a poorly suppressed grin.

Our next tutoring session was in the back seat of her car. We started meeting at her house while her husband was working and her daughter was at school. She was the best I ever had. Once I got her cranked up, there wasn't anything she wouldn't do. She loved the sensation of my hot cum shooting in her ass almost as much as Amber does. I recalled she told me she never let her husband take her there because he was too rough. My ego swelled.

I think we fucked for a couple of weeks. Then, one day she wasn't there. I drove by her house, but no cars were in the drive. I knocked at the door, ready with a spiel about a lost dog. A pretty young girl answered. When I asked if her mother was home, she snapped, "No!" and slammed the door.

It didn't matter. There were plenty of needy sluts around, with and without rings. I graduated a couple of months later.

"Wh-what happened to her?"

The smile is gone from his face.

"I told you. I destroyed her. She'd been going to a shrink. He gave her sedatives to help her sleep. The day before our divorce was final she took all of them with half a bottle of vodka."

My head drops into my hands and tears rain down my cheeks. Simon didn't destroy her. He was only the agent. It was my arrogance that killed Grace. Dear, sweet Grace.

Now my treachery has brought us full circle. I've destroyed my own marriage. My heart is aching from the realization of the horrible thing I've done. None of this was Amber's fault. It's like I'm stuck in a hall of mirrors and everywhere I look are ugly, distorted reflections of me.

When I'm all cried out, I lift my head. Brenda is giving both of us perplexed stares from behind the bar. It's not the first time I've broken down on this stool. This isn't the same, though, and I think she knows it. Something has just happened, and she can't quite figure out what's different.

Simon is still calmly sipping his Jack. A kaleidoscope of emotions flashes through my mind--the strongest of all is fear. I suspect that his cold, calculating revenge hasn't run its course.

"What are you gonna do now, Simon?"

He shrugs. "Good question, Richie. In my first and only liaison with my sweet little submissive lover, she refused to let me use her ass. She promised to give it up the next time we meet, but only if I spank her big fanny hard enough. I sure would like to take her up on that offer."

It feels like his hands are around my heart, slowly crushing it. He's gonna own my Amber. She'll never be mine again.

Simon's eyes flash with something akin to amusement.

"I'm also quite effective with a scorched-earth strategy," he says. "You've heard my story. If I decide to give in to the darkness and chaos, I can assure you that before I'm done, everyone will be either dead or wishing they were."

"No, Simon. Please don't..." I thought I was out of tears, but my eyes are blurry again.

Brenda is watching the scene unfold. She seems calm, but her narrowed eyes are twitching back and forth between us. I know she has a twelve-gauge behind the counter--she pulled it on a rowdy guy a few days ago. Simon is too smart to start anything here. If I thought I could reach the shotgun before her, I would probably unload both barrels on him.

He draws a long sip from his tumbler.

"I'm not an unreasonable man, however," he says. "The anger management sessions have been helpful. One of the techniques my therapist suggested was to imagine the worst that could happen in any situation, then prepare myself for that possibility. So, tell me, Richie. What is the worst thing you can imagine at this moment?"

The answer emerges from my subconscious like a Phoenix rising from the ashes.

Somewhere along the line, I forgot my responsibilities. My number one job is to take care of my family. Not just the kids. All of us. I created this disaster and Amber let herself fall into his trap, but we aren't the only ones suffering. The cataclysm of our divorce would shake up our parents and aunts and uncles and ripple down through our children's children.

"Hurt me if you have to," I tell him. "Leave my family alone."

Maybe I'm playing into his hands, giving him the tool he needs to destroy me. I have to ask myself, why has he decided to show himself now? His retaliation could have gone a lot further before popping up here to face me on a dreary Tuesday afternoon.

Simon's smug grin is gone. Small curls turn up at the corners of his lips. He looks...pleased.

"Your family? Are you sure?" He raises a mocking brow. "I thought you were pretty dead set on--what was it you said? 'Making that cheating cunt pay...'?"

"I've changed my mind. I think we've all learned a hard lesson."

"Hmm... I see," he says. His eyes are narrowed, but there is a humor in them. "So, I assume you're going to sacrifice your pride and forgive the whore, put all your trust in her, then stand back and wait for her to betray you again. Isn't that the definition of insanity?"

"Every one of us goes a little crazy at one time or another." I'm not surprised when he nods in agreement. "Getting back to a place where reason and hope can thrive takes blind faith and the guts to make it work. This time I'm not gonna stand by and let things happen."

"That's remarkably astute, especially coming from a Carolina boy," he says. The smirk is back, except now it looks playful. "I guess that means you're not going to leave your sweet little wife in limbo long enough for me to get a piece of that fine ass."

It's time to end this tragic farce.

"Brenda, call me a cab please."

"Already?" she says. "You ain't even fell off the stool once yet."

I don't remember falling off a stool.

"There's somebody I gotta talk to, right now," I tell her, noticing Simon's tight smile. "Bring me a coffee, too. Black. And gimme another one to go."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes as she calls for a cab. Then she pours a steaming cup from the dirty glass urn. The bitter coffee has probably been sitting on the burner all day. It's exactly what I need.

Simon nurses his Jack while we wait. I sip my coffee. Neither of us speaks for several minutes. I ruined this man's life in ways I can't imagine. He's given me a wake-up call. If it hadn't been him, some other man might have gotten his hooks in my Amber just as easily and stolen her away.

From the jukebox, the solo guitar and deep country twang of Garth Brooks leads in to "Friends in Low Places".

"How are things going with you these days?" I ask Simon

"Could be better," he says, staring into his glass. "Still haven't found a woman I trust. My daughter learned the truth. At the funeral, Christine told me 'I hate you'. Those were the last words my little girl said to me. She ran off to live with Grace's sister until she graduated. Then she moved as far away from me as she could get. I've tried to keep up with her. She's in Seattle now, divorced with three kids. I'm on my way up there tomorrow. I heard she's getting her PhD in Statistics next week. Maybe she'll let me see my grandchildren. I don't know."

He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his silk jacket.

It's not just his life I've ruined. The damage continues to ripple through the generations.

"If there's any chance I can help, you know where to find me," I offer.

Simon nods. He tosses back the rest of his Jack and Brenda is there to fill it back up. We both stare at the shelf of liquors behind the bar, alone with our thoughts.

When the cab toots I slide off the seat and shake Simon's hand. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry. For everything."

He doesn't let go, squeezing tighter. His eyes drill into me.

"Keep her close. I'll be checking in from time to time. She's a good woman. As good as they come. If I get another shot, I'm taking it."

"If that happens, you better watch your back. If I get a shot, I'm takin' it."

He nods with a sad smile and lets go of my hand. Something in his eyes makes me think he might welcome a quick ending.

The cab honks again. I weave my way toward the door. Behind me I hear Simon ask Brenda, "Where can a guy get laid around here?"

"I know some girls. You lookin' for a limo ride or a Harley?"

"You married?" he says

"Yeah. She's a cop."

Funny... She never mentioned that to me.

"For a woman as hot as you, I'll take the risk. Show me your tits."

Brenda giggles. I never heard her giggle before. As the door closes behind me, she squeals, "Fuck, yeah! Do the other one."

"Your chee-e-eatin' heart...will make you weep..."

--==[]=[]=[]==--

The drizzle has cleared up. The sun is out. It's a beautiful, clear afternoon.

The cabbie is an older Middle Eastern man. I vaguely remember riding with him before. He knows where I live but I give him a different address. From his constant chatter it's obvious he knows all about my situation, my job, my fondness for the Cowboys, even the name of my barber. The drive across town is short and I'm not responding. I need to get my thoughts together if I'm going to make this right.

Once I've got my head on straight about how I'm gonna handle Amber, I do a search on my phone. I'm right. The list of Christine's in the University of Washington math doctorate program is short. By the time we're pulling up to the little suburban ranch where Amber's parents live I've got an address. I always wanted to go to Seattle anyway. I don't know how much good I can do, but I have to try.

I hand the cabbie a couple of twenties and tell him thanks for everything. He's a happy man. I hope that's the last time I see him.

Amber's mother answers the door. She is surprised. She doesn't invite me in.

"Wh-what's going on, Richard?"

"I'd like to talk to my wife."

"If you're bringing bad news, this isn't a good time. She...she's been taking it hard. Last night we found Jim's pistol in her room."

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. Did Simon know about that somehow? Is that why he chose today?

"It's okay, Margaret. I just need to tell her--"

Just past her shoulder I spy Amber's face at the corner leading to the hall. Her apple cheeks are sunken, and her natural olive complexion seems pale. Dark circles hang under her puffy eyes. She's waiting to find out how I plan to make her life more miserable.

My gut squirms. I did this.

Her mother moves away, allowing me to step inside.

"I'm sorry, Amber. This is all my fault."

She gapes at me. "What? No, Richie! You didn't do a thing. I was the one who screwed...who messed up!" Her lip quivers, and tears roll down her cheeks. For the umpteenth time she says, "I'm so sorry!"

"Stop blaming yourself, Amber. The truth is, I caused the problem. I know you don't understand. It's a long story. I promise I'll explain everything later." I hold my hand out toward her. "I want you to come home."

"Really?" she says. She's wary. When I nod, she asks, "Wh-what are you gonna do?"

Did Simon tell her his story? It hurts that she's afraid of me.

"We're gonna go home. Then we're gonna try to figure out how to keep this mess from happening for at least another twelve years. I got some ideas about--"

Amber flies across the room and leaps onto me, nearly knocking me over. I catch her and stumble backwards. Her meaty arms and legs are wrapped around my neck and my waist. She's nearly choking me, babbling, "I love you! I love you! Oh, God, I love you, Richie!"

Her mother and father watch us with their arms around each other. They have big smiles.

We share a long, tender kiss. Some of the brightness in her eyes has returned when she slides off me to the floor.

She says, "The bus is gonna drop the kids off soon. They been missing you, too. You wanna' beer, or something?"

"I already had too much to drink. Some water would be good." Her mother brings me a glass. "Can we talk?" I glance toward her parents.

"C'mon, Earl," her mother says, taking her husband's arm. "I need you to come take a look at my rose bushes."

Amber and I take a seat on the sofa. She's gripping my hand like she's holding on for dear life. We kiss.

My wife looks nervous. "I probably shouldn't ask, but what happened? I just knew you were gonna throw me away. Not that I could blame you."

"We don't need to get into the details right now, but I met someone from my past today, and--

Gasping, she jerks her hands away, folding them in her lap. Her red eyes are pleading with me as if I were an executioner.

"Did you...? I mean, was she somebody...special? Did you...and her--"

She's stiff when I hug her. I shake my head with a quiet laugh.

"Don't worry. It wasn't a woman. I haven't been with anybody else."

Not that I didn't think about it...

"I wish I could say the same thing." She hangs her head. "I'm so ashamed."

"Each of us has our share of the blame."

Amber lays her hand against my cheek. "No, I'm the one who got stupid. You are the best husband I could've hoped for. I've always been the ugly girl with the funny eye. Nobody called me for dates unless they were horny. I was even the last resort for my old boyfriend. When you started chasing after me, I thought I'd won the lottery."

I have to look away. I hate myself for what I've done. It's not just the women I screwed in my cavalier youth. The guilt that eats at my gut is how vain and superficial I was when I asked Amber to marry me. While I was confident no man would ever try to seduce such an unattractive woman, I secretly harbored an expectation that I would be free to sample whatever goodies presented themselves.

So, this is the twisted way we end up. Amber has kept me so satisfied I've never once felt the desire to go outside my marriage. She's given me two beautiful children who are the best of both of us. Except for the one incident--which is wholly of my own making--she's been better than any wife I could've hoped for. What an arrogant fucking fool I've been.

I kiss her little pug nose, as I often do. "You were honest. You were always laughing, so full of life. If you had a skinny figure and flirty eyes like those runway models, you wouldn't be the woman I love. The way you look is part of who you are. That makes you beautiful to me."

"You always did say such nice things like that about me. After a while it...it started soundin' like a little white lie just to make me feel better. I knew I didn't deserve you. I never could figure out what you saw in me. Then after Annie was born, I couldn't get rid of all that extra fat. I was gettin' older. I felt all pudgy and deformed and useless. Then when Lance started--"

I twitch at the sound of his name and the thought of how thoroughly he might have wreaked vengeance on me and my family.

Amber misreads my reaction. She slaps her hand over her mouth. "Ohgod! I'm sorry, Richie! I won't ever say his--"

"It's okay," I tell her, stroking my finger through her mousy brown hair. "You can say it. He made you feel desired, didn't he?"

Of course he did. That was the way I got any woman I wanted. All I had to do was to find the one thing her husband or boyfriend no longer gave her. I would play on that, then make her feel attractive, then sexy, then so irresistible that I simply had to have her and I couldn't hold myself back.

Somewhere along the line I stopped making my wife feel irresistible.

Gazing off in the distance, she says, "He was so mature and wore those nice silk suits. I figured he could have about any woman he wanted."

"And it was you he wanted, right? He was chasing you. And I wasn't."

She hangs her head and nods.

My words are calm and quiet. "Then he made you do things."

Her head pops up. She's searching my eyes, wondering how much I know.

"He took control and told you what to do," I tell her, and she stares at me. "You got a kick out of pleasing him. It didn't matter how sick or disgusting. That just made it more dirty, more thrilling. Even if it meant saying things about your husband you didn't mean."

"Ohgod! Ohgod! Richie! I'm so sorry..." Tears stream down her round cheeks again.

I take my wife in my arms to hold her and stroke her back.

"It's okay. I understand. You tried to tell me a long time ago. I wasn't listening. That's all going to change. I'm in control now."

Slowly, Amber tilts her head up. Her good right eye peers at me from under her brow. She is hopeful yet uncertain. She's never seen the darker side of her husband that I've kept hidden from her, the same as she's hidden her own nature. I expect we will both learn a lot more about each other over the next while.

"You are going to please me, Amber. When you don't, you will be punished."

She gapes at me, shocked. Her lips close and the corners sneak upward.

"Punished?" she says.

I nod, feigning disappointment. "You've been a bad girl. You deserve a hard spanking."

The flash of excitement in her eyes confirms I'm on the right track.

"With a belt?" she says, shocking me. I know what that wiggle in her brow means, though. My wife has been hiding some serious kinks.

"Whenever I think you deserve it," I tell her, using my gruff voice.

She tucks her lower lip in between her teeth. She's really trying not to grin. I would bet her panties are soaked.