Unhappily Ever After Bk. 01 Ch. 01

'I wonder how he will react to my planting three overlapping love bites over his ownership tatt?' I asked myself after I had applied them while holding a kicking and screaming Sam down.

Sam was in the bathroom when her phone rang at about nine o'clock the next morning. Being the good husband I am, I answered it for her.

"Good morning, I said in my business voice. "Sam Bourke's phone, This is her husband speaking."

"Put Ms Smithers-Browne on the phone," a voice I recognised as that of her boss and lover, Nathan Kingston, demanded.

"I'm terribly sorry," I responded. "She's a tad busy right now. I'll get her to call you back when she's free. I have to tell you, though, that the way she's going, that probably won't be until Monday morning." I then disconnected the call and set the phone to silent. I probably should have turned it off.

It was an hour later, and we were heading towards another simultaneous orgasm - Sam's eighteenth and my seventh - when her phone started vibrating and jumping around on her bedside table.

"Leave it," I said. "This is 'us' time. It's the first time you and I have been this close for ages. Don't let them take it away from us."

"I can't," she said, reaching for the infernal device. It was as if she had been waiting for the call. "It might be important."

"More important than us?" I asked.

Obviously, it was. Although, give her her due, she did hesitate briefly before picking it up and swiping the green button.

"Yes?" she said, answering it. I rolled out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.

"What?" she exclaimed. I could hear the person on the other end shouting at her while I was relieving my bladder in the next room.

"Okay," I heard her say. "I'll be there in about forty-five minutes."

"You bastard!" she yelled at me when I emerged from the bathroom. "Why didn't you tell me Nathan had called? He's ropeable; not just at me for not calling him back, but at you, for the disrespect you showed him."

"Oops," I said, feigning sorrow. "Was that Nathan-fucking-Kingston? I'm so sorry, Darling. I thought it was some telemarketer. You should tell him that if he wants to be taken seriously, he should announce himself. You should also tell him that I don't take orders from him or any other anonymous voice at the other end of a phone line.

"Anyway, didn't I hear you say you'd be there in forty-five minutes? You'd better get a move on if you're going to make it on time. Of course, you could decide to stay here with me so we could finish what we started."

"I can't," she replied, her anger still simmering below the surface. "There's some sort of flap on, and I've got to go into the office to help him and the other team members rewrite a whole section of the contract we've been working on for weeks. It would cost me my job if I were to refuse."

"And would that be such a bad thing?" I asked. "From a financial viewpoint, you don't have to work. And, if you really feel the need to be productive, I'm sure you'd have no trouble finding a place in a smaller, less demanding firm."

"I'm sure you're right," she said as she disappeared into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She'd taken her underwear with her.

"But I like what I do for Moreton City Law," she said as she came out. It was as if there hadn't been a fifteen-minute gap in the conversation. "It's not the money or the demands on my time that make it interesting. It's the excitement; that, and the interaction with my co-workers. It seems that we are pushing boundaries every day. It's a huge adrenalin rush that can only be matched by over-the-top sex."

"What? Sex like we've been sharing?"

"Hmmm," Sam answered as she sipped on the coffee cup I'd handed her as she sat at what had once been her dressing table. She'd gone to her bathroom and had brought her makeup case back with her. I got the impression that she was inviting herself back into the master bedroom.

I hadn't been sitting idle while she carried out her ablutions. In addition to the coffee I had already given her, I had made her a couple of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches. Toasties, I knew from experience, make for good driving food and judging by her rush, I guessed she wouldn't have time for a sit-down breakfast. I also had another coffee ready for her in her insulated travel mug. Both the coffee and toasties were sitting on the island bench for her to take with her when she was ready.

While eating my own breakfast - brunch, really - it struck me that she was taking longer to prepare for an emergency Saturday morning call-in than I would have expected.

When she finally appeared in the kitchen, I was taken aback by how she was dressed. Her make-up and outfit said more about lunch and afternoon drinks at the Hilton than a day at the office with the boys and girls. I noted that she was also carrying an overnight bag. She blushed a bit as I pointed to it with the coffee mug I held in my right hand.

"I suspect that this could turn into an all-nighter," she said, a slight hesitation in her voice. "So I packed a change of clothes, just in case. You know the old Girl Guides motto: 'Be Prepared'."

"I remember it well," I answered. "That's why I always carried a few condoms around in my wallet when I was a young Lothario on the prowl. It turned out that, until I met you, my personal motto was, 'Live in Hope'.

"After last night, though, I have to say that you've come a long way since we fumbled our way through our first attempt at lovemaking."

Sam blushed once again.

I called to her as she opened the front door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

She stood in the doorway with a puzzled look on her face. I held up her travel mug and a plastic bag containing her toasted sandwiches. She visibly relaxed. With all the signs she'd been displaying since receiving her phone call, I had no idea what she might have thought I meant.

"I assume you left your money on the dressing table," I said, breaking the awkward silence.

I was still standing in the kitchen, holding her food and drink. I wasn't about to take them to her. If she wanted them, she would have to come to me. Fuck her. I'd had enough of this roller-coaster ride. And I certainly wasn't her slave; as much as she and Kingston might want that to be so.

"What money?" she asked.

"Well, I figured that if you weren't going say goodbye or give me a goodbye kiss, last night and this morning was a business transaction. I've never considered myself to be a gigolo, but my bringing you to an individual personal best orgasm tally of more than seventeen received from one man in a single twelve-hour session must be worth something. Hence the reference to money. Surely, a toyboy who can bring you that much carnal pleasure must be worth something.

"That's unless you were dissatisfied with the outcome and someone else has already beaten that tally, of course. If that were the case, I'd have to stand by my 'satisfaction guaranteed' promise and let you go without payment and offer a free return bout. Not that I'd expect you to admit that such a target had been beaten by someone else; you being a married woman and all.

"Mind you, trying to sneak out the door without paying might be seen by some as an admission that such was the case. I hope I find an envelope containing a stack of moolah in it when I return to my bedroom. I really do.

"From my own limited experience and what I hear on the grapevine, to engage a call girl who could give me six - almost seven - orgasms in the one all-night session would cost me close to two-thousand bucks. Is that what I should expect to find when I go back in there to change the sheets and make the bed? Or maybe you think I should be paying you. What's your rate, by the way?"

That did it. I saw a couple of tears trickle from the corners of her eyes as she turned to leave, slamming the front door behind her.

"Goodbye, Samatha," I said to the empty room.

'It appears you're only second best, Stoney,' I told myself as I refilled my mug before heading out to the back deck.

---oooBJSooo---

It turned out she was correct in her prediction. Whatever she'd been called in to help with did take up the whole weekend. She eventually arrived home late on Sunday night, looking like she'd been ridden hard. Rather than the smart afternoon outfit she'd worn when she left, she was wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and low-heeled shoes. She was also wearing the bare minimum of makeup.

I don't know why I should have expected anything different. After all, she was coming home to her cuckold husband. Not heading out to meet up with her lover... or should that be lovers, plural?

She tried hard, but she couldn't disguise the fact that she found it difficult to walk. As she struggled to get herself and her overnight bag in through the door and along the hallway, I could see that she was getting about like an old cowboy who'd spent most of his life in the saddle.

My supposition that she'd spent the last thirty-six hours with more than one lover appeared to have some substance. There was no way that one man could have given her what was needed to bring her to her knees as had been done to her since leaving the house on that November Saturday morning.

Looking back on it, I'd say that that weekend was all about ownership. My night-long fuck-fest was trumped by a weekend-long orgy. I probably should have thrown her out there and then. But I'm both a stubborn and patient man. I wanted to find out how long she'd been cheating on me and with whom. Oh, I knew who was driving the train. But I wanted to find out who the other passengers were.

Sam didn't even attempt to enter the master bedroom upon her return. She dragged herself and her baggage down the hallway to the spare room she'd previously occupied. Had she tried the master bedroom door, however, she'd have found it locked.

Nothing was said, but that weekend marked the end of any pretence of us being a married couple. We would never sleep in the same bed again. We also would never hold a conversation that wasn't about the running of the house. Our personal lives were just that: personal. What she did with her time was her business. All I asked of her was that she tell me when she was planning on being away for a night or longer so I could make my own arrangements.

In all other respects, we treated each other like the housemates we'd become. There was no need for me to say anything about knowing about her 'other' life. It was enough that she knew I knew.

---oooBJSooo---

"I think you'd better find someone else to accompany you to your firm's Christmas function this year," I said to Sam after seeing she'd noted the date on our kitchen calendar.

"Oh?" she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm planning on being away that weekend," I responded. I didn't feel I needed to elaborate.

"Well, you had better change your plans, Aaron," she shot back with venom. "I believe Nathan has a big announcement to make. And if it's what I think it will be, I want you there to share it with me."

"No," I responded. "I've had enough surprises over the past couple of years to do me a lifetime. I don't need another one. But if it's important that you have an escort to share your surprise, I can put you onto an agency that supplies dates for such occasions. They've helped me out a couple of times in the past."

"Oh, but you must come, Darling," she begged. "If his announcement is what I think it will be, this will culminate nine years of hard work. I need you to be there to see that all the support you have given me during our time together hasn't been wasted. Please, Sweetheart. Pleeease?"

"I'll think about it," I responded. "But I'm not making any promises. I'd strongly recommend hiring a toy boy to escort you to your firm's Christmas function; just as I had to do for our anniversary and the Master Builders' Ball. They're not cheap, but I guarantee they give you value for money."

I waited until two days before the function before broaching the subject again.

"Have you found yourself an escort for your fuck meister's ball?" I asked Sam as I was preparing to leave for work on Thursday morning; the morning before the day of the function. That was the first time I'd brought my knowledge of their relationship out into the open.

"He's not my fuck meister!" she responded angrily. "He's my boss. And you will show him the respect he is due, or there will be consequences.

"But, in answer to your question, no. No, I refuse to demean myself by paying for some stranger to accompany me to a function that my husband should be escorting me to. I thought you loved me."

"'Loved' is exactly the word I would have used," I responded.

"But, okay," I continued, allowing her to think her argument had won me over. "I'll be your Huckleberry. I've supported you throughout your career - at least while we've been married - so it's only right that I accompany you this final time. If only to find out what consequences your fuck... sorry, boss has planned for me."

I was in no doubt that her puppet-meister had something in mind for me. After all, he couldn't simply ignore the disrespect I'd shown him by sending his slut back to him with her holes filled with my cum and my brands all over her body.

"Just a word of warning, though. If Friday night goes down anything like I think it will, you, Kingston, and anyone else involved will regret it.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, a sight tremor in her voice.

"You'll find out," I answered. "But if I were you, I'd pass that message on to your fuck meister."

When she appeared from her room wearing 'that' gown on the night of the function, I knew that she either didn't pass the warning on to Kingston or he had chosen to ignore it.

What I thought would happen did happen. His attempt at humiliating me was well-choreographed and well-performed. And having Jim Freeman's strongarm lads on hand to correct my recalcitrant attitude towards being cuckolded was a nice touch.

---oooBJSooo---

...Continues, Part Two.

Footnotes:

The term 'digger' was the general name given to Australian soldiers. It refers to the fact that many of the country's Great War heroes came from the gold, silver and tin-mining fields, where they dug for those precious commodities.