Tick...Tick...Tick

"Sorry about that, doll, but we haven't been together for nearly two weeks."

"Oooo, you know I like it rough."

"No, seriously, two weeks is too long. Can't we see each other more often?"

"Oh, stop whining. It's been two weeks for me as well and I have needs too; especially as you asked me to cut down on Dave's rations. He had a three-day trip planned last week and we could have snuck away somewhere, but that got cancelled at the last minute. You're only getting some tonight because of an urgent meeting he had to go to. I wish he would go out of town more as well, darling, believe me."

"Well, I want more," said a petulant Jason.

"You'll get what I choose to give you."

Again, the clip was terminated. Ashamedly, I looked down at the table to avoid what I knew would be three condemning stares and remembered my state of mind at the time of that last conversation.

The truth was that the novelty of having a lover, even one as young and energetic as Jason, had begun to pall. Jason's and my actions in betraying my husband were causing me to lose respect for Dave and that, if nothing else, was starting to hurt my conscience. The loss of respect, more than anything, I think, was the cause of my pulling away from my husband emotionally.

Even as I'd prepared for this meeting, fully intending to accuse him of pulling away from me, I'd realised it was hokum. To allow myself to keep betraying him, I'd been emotionally divorcing Dave. Cutting him off in bed had been an easy decision simply because Dave's loving caresses were so different to Jason's impatience that it was impossible to confuse the two. That reinforced to me that what I was doing was very, very wrong.

So, I'd started turning my husband's advances down. He'd pushed for a while, then... stopped. All of a sudden, I comprehended what should have been screaming for my attention months ago. Dave had abruptly given up his sex life around the same time he'd started working longer hours and going away more. I'd thought at the time he was emotionally distancing himself from me as well. I closed my eyes, now thoroughly confused as to who was distancing themselves from who.

And then it clicked. Dave must have known for a while. That's why he knew to secrete a recorder in Karen's room.

Hell! My whole approach to this meeting had been to minimise my crime. Heal Dave's wounded pride. Eat some humble pie. All to get the life and future back that I so desperately wanted.

I thought I was assuaging a recently wounded bull. But if I was right about him knowing for at least two weeks before he discovered, no, confronted me, then he was way more devious than I thought possible and I was wasting my time appealing to his emotions.

Tick, tick, tick.

In summary, I didn't have a clue what to do. I'm much better when I plan than when I adlib; hence the two pages of notes. But I had to do something, time was running out; the ticking clock reinforced that.

In desperation, I picked up my notes and looked for hope. The pounding in my head made absorption of the words a very slow process. Nothing leapt out. Then, I realised that the notes were a distraction as the game had changed so much. If Dave had known I was stepping out for a while, what was his state of mind? He'd be hurt at my betrayal, of course, but mainly he'd be worried about my motivation. Was I not satisfied by the quantity and quality of his lovemaking? Did I find him boring and want to explore my kinky side? Did I love Jason? Was I planning to run away with him? These fears and doubts I could fix.

I risked looking up into those expressionless eyes, wondering if I should take a punt and risk telling more lies. If only I could remember what else Jason and I had talked about that fateful night. If only I could be sure that was the only night David had a recordings of. Surely the sequence must have been, suspect, set up recorders, confront. He can't have been sure for long; he just wasn't that good an actor.

I wanted desperately to convince him of the truth; I did still love and respect him. My desperation to not have him leave me proved that; far above my fear of losing my very comfortable lifestyle. But how to convince him I still respected him after we'd all heard me calling him a dickhead in front of my lover? Where was the value in trying to justify denigrating him to my lover as a sop to my conscience and to create a shared bond between Jason and me? None that I could see. The same went for still loving him. If I'd caught him screwing around on me, wild horses wouldn't have managed to drag a conclusion that I thought he still loved me out of me.

So, convincing him I still loved and respected him would have to come with time. Time bought by persuading him to not insist I sign the divorce papers. But how many ticks of that damned timer did I have left to convince him of that? One thing was for sure, my next few sentences had to score points. Lots of points. I steeled myself and looked across the table at Dave.

"I know it seems I lost my love and respect for you, Dave, but I assure you, I never did. I love you and our life together. I want to end my days with you, and only you. Having a glimpse of what life is like without you and the memory of the shame I felt when you caught me will keep me on the straight and narrow for the rest of my life, of that you can be assured.

"Jason was a distraction. A bit of a sugar hit when I was craving an ego boost. I didn't love him and was certainly never going to run away with him. Yes, it was wrong; very wrong. Especially acceding to his suggestion that you and I make love less. I really don't know why I went along with that, especially after I'd managed to convince myself that I was just giving him the excess that you couldn't handle.

"He didn't have any more stamina in bed than you did at his age, and he was far less skilled and considerate. I wasn't motivated by anything but lust and selfishness. It was an ego trip. Yes, it was nice to be screwed to exhaustion by someone before my body loses interest in sex, but it was totally unemotional. It wasn't as if I did all the kinky stuff with him I'd been denying you all these years..."

I stopped when, without breaking eye contact with me, Dave's fingers hit a button they must have been hovering over in anticipation. Once again my voice filled the room, louder than life.

"That's it, lover, stick that plastic cock in my cunt while you cum in my arse, I feel so fucking full, pound me, I'm almost theeeeerrrrrrreeee!"

They do say time slows down for those near death. The demise of a marriage must be like that as well because I saw everyone else in slowmo even though I was at normal speed.

My lawyer, on my left, threw his pen to the tabletop and turned toward me, a look of absolute disgust twisting his features, proving that at this point I couldn't even pay someone to be on my side.

Dave's lawyer leaned to the side so as to see the laptop screen better. I realised then that what Dave had been playing weren't sound files as I'd assumed, but video clips. Somehow that made it worse. The bitch once again gripped my husband's arm as a gesture of physical support.

Dave's reaction couldn't have hurt more if he'd tried. Thankfully, his eyes weren't on me but on the screen in front of him. His neutral expression had slipped, but only a fraction. Now, there were undertones of the devastation he must have felt when he discovered the person who's job it was to cover his back was spending inappropriate time on hers. I watched as a single tear escaped the eye closest to me, as its owner tortured himself. Or was he steeling himself by watching the screen?

The last vestiges of my controlled mind registered a couple of now irrelevant facts. The recording was from a session at least three weeks before the confrontation which meant Dave had been watching me betray him for a while. Enough to see a pattern. Enough to know that after sleeping off our second vaginal fuck, Jason usually woke me with a simulated forced anal fuck in the morning. A technique and kink of mine we'd discovered by accident when he took my anal cherry.

We all remained silent as the speakers played me coming off a spectacular orgasm high while Jason unloaded into my unprotected arse. It had been so hot at the time, but now it just seemed sleazy. Sleazy and tawdry. Empty.

I stared at the table as my lawyer put the divorce papers in front of me.

There was nothing I could do or say to combat the dastardly deeds my husband, my Dave, had discovered me doing. Then, with consummate ease, he'd destroyed all my rationalisation, minimisation, and pathetic attempts at reconciliation.

We were finished.

Like the conductor of an orchestra, Dave had never created anything here today. Just pointed at which section of the orchestra he wanted to play next, using their skills and talents. Without Dave ever having said a word, he'd executed me.

No, not Dave. Me. I'd walked up the scaffold all by myself, put my own blindfold on, looped the noose around my own next and kicked the lever. Dave just built the scaffold and walked away.

I realised that I'd never had a chance as soon as he triggered that last clip without hesitation and without looking. He knew exactly what I was going to say and when. I'd crafted my arguments through my intimate knowledge of him after observing him for three decades. I'd forgotten he'd been looking back at me for the same amount of time as well. Looking back with those intelligent, perceptive eyes.

The shame and humiliation were unbearable, and finally triggered my flight response. Escape was what I needed. Escape back to the house that was still my home, at least until Dave enforced the eviction notice that was part of the settlement. Escape to children that hopefully would never know and would continue to love me unconditionally. The only route of escape went through signing away most of my life's accumulations.

I picked up the pen, signed the two agreements then dropped the pen in one fluid movement.

I'd been surprised Dave's business wasn't worth more, but that's what my lawyer's evaluation had uncovered and surely Dave hadn't known long enough to have hidden most of it away... Son of a bitch!

By that time, thankfully, the last recording had ended, and the ticking silence returned. My lawyer picked up the signed papers, handed one copy to the bitch and shuffled the rest into his briefcase, stood, and left the room. I sat there, frozen, wanting to run but wanting to leave with a positive message. An ember that would convince me, at least, I had a hope of fanning into a flame one day. Leave Dave knowing I still cared for his wellbeing.

Suddenly, the jarring rasp of the alarm spurred me into action.

I stood and said my positive piece. The jackal had both of her hands on Dave's arm now.

"Don't ruin your life by ending up in gaol after getting revenge on Jason when he reappears. Then I would never, ever forgive myself."

Dave's response to that was yet another bloody clip. This time, thankfully, not my voice, but another woman's.

In near screeching tones, "The little creep did what? I'll rip his fucking balls off if my brothers don't get to him first."

Mrs. Jason, I presume. I'd thought Jason's silence after being beaten up by my husband was fear on his part. Now, I wondered. That he should end up divorced and penniless was a fitting end for a cheater. To end up dead because he slept with me was just another burden for my already overloaded conscience.

I just couldn't face Dave as I stood to take my leave. Whether he had that damned expressionless face on, was laughing or crying, all would hurt me. Remind me what I'd done to this good man. He'd lost everything I had, apart from the house and money, of course, and had copped a huge emotional blow to boot. And I'd been the cause of it all. I deserved everything he threw at me.

I did manage a very teary, "Goodbye, darling", as I shuffled to the door. My pathetic attempt to keep my old life swatted aside like the pestilent bug that it was. Maybe, my daughter, Megan, would come over while I drank myself into forgetful oblivion. If she wasn't available, my son, Joel.

I had just started to push the door open when I heard voices behind me. Fantasies of last-minute phone calls to the firing squad emanated from the last skerrick of optimism I possessed. But it wasn't a normal speaking voice, it was another damned recording.

An obviously emotional young male voice said, "Mum did what? The bitch." A very familiar female voice chipped in, "Are you sure, Dad?"

I think I'll be drinking alone tonight.

THE END

Now lighten the fuck up.

Wife: What are your plans for Easter, dear?

Husband: Same as Jesus.

Wife: What do you mean?

Husband: I will disappear on Friday and reappear on Monday.

Wife: If you do that I'll do what Mary did.

Husband: Huh?

Wife: Show up pregnant, untouched by my husband.