Until The Christmas Party

This is an entry into Literotica's Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023.

Thanks MissJenny54 for editing help.

Head on a swivel. That's what our high school football coach told us every practice. I played defensive back, and he drilled into me the dual art of anticipation and keeping my eye on the opponent. Knowing what to expect was the key to a successful defense.

I wasn't that good, but I still managed to get a full scholarship at a D3 school, where I majored in business. Lucille, a slightly plump redhead with an outgoing personality, teamed up with me for a project in our junior year. As they say, one thing led to another, and we became hot and heavy, marrying the summer after graduation.

Our junior year project was good enough for both of us to land an internship with one of the large companies in the city, Malcolm Precision Instruments; she in sales, and I in accounting. That, smart reader, tells you where our personality strengths lay.

We loved our baby girls and gave up trying for a boy after three. Just over a year ago, the last one left the nest, and after 24 years, the breakfast and dinner table was quiet, eerily so. After a week of that, I figured we needed to do something, so I planned a retreat for Lucille and me in the Smoky Mountains, close to Gatlinburg. We both loved country music, so I figured we could catch an act coming through on their way to or from fame. Plenty of leafy mountain trails would get our hiking boots some much-needed use. A cozy cabin with a king-size bed would hopefully complete the reconnection.

It worked. We had a lovely time, laughing and smiling, dancing and cuddling and recalling gaffes and highlights from the years when we were too busy making the next deadline to stop and smell the roses in our lives. The place also had a hot tub out on the deck, which we put to excellent--not to mention frequent--use.

For about a month after our return, breakfasts and dinners returned to a new level of, well, companionship probably seems the most descriptive word. Our love life stayed at a "revived" level, and I made a point of picking a nice hike every two or three weekends. Empty nest life was great.

Until the company's annual Christmas party, that is.

Lucille, being in sales, knew what seemed like everyone, while I, in accounting, neither knew many people nor cared to. Happy in my skin, I never saw any reason to blab and yak about trivial stuff like other people's kids, their high school scores, etc. If the conversation turned to crooked NBA refs or how mega-college athletic programs screwed college athletes, I'd happily join in to contribute a drop or two of bile. Consequently, we usually split up at company functions and regaled each other with the tales afterward as we segued into foreplay and real play.

However, this year, something was off. My usual crowd was depleted by downsizing, workers shifting to remote, and assorted other reasons. I moseyed around, casting my eyes over the proceedings and idly wondering which group Lucille hung out with. Nothing. I cornered Abby, one of her coworkers. "Have you seen Lucille?"

She looked down and away. "Uhm, no. She was here just a minute ago with Brent and Kevin." Brent Masters was her boss, and Kevin another coworker.

Abby's unusual behavior raised the hair on the back of my neck. Then the three came in from outside, laughing and fully clothed, drinks in their hands. I talked myself off the ledge and caught her eye across the room. She brightened up and crossed toward me. "Hey, Duncan! Decided to rejoin the real world?" Followed by a kiss on the cheek--not the squirrelly behavior I would expect from someone hiding something.

"Actually, yeah. Wanted to see how the other half parties."

Taking my hand, she walked us to a group of sales and sales support staff telling jokes. Nice.

After the party, though, I sensed a subtle shift in our relationship. It started with a depletion in what I considered our connection anchor: breakfast and dinner. One morning, she skipped breakfast to get to the office for an early meeting. The following week, it was dinner, again for a meeting of some sort. Our sex life showed a similar fade.

Looking back, that was the thin end of the wedge. By springtime, Lucille was MIA, or at least MIH (Missing In Home) a lot. In hindsight, I can see how I missed it because it started small and increased gradually. She brought home a special quarterly bonus in April, making it almost seem worthwhile.

Things came to a head during our planning for Memorial Day weekend. Over dinner, one of the now increasingly frequent silent ones, Lucille suddenly spoke up. "Duncan, we need to talk."

"Yes?"

"The week after Memorial Day, the company is hosting a golf tournament for our top independent reps in Myrtle Beach. I'll be gone from the Tuesday until the following Sunday."

"That sounds fun. Where are we staying?"

"You're not going. This is a sales-only affair; being in accounting, you don't qualify."

"I could pay my own way. Surely you're not going to be with the reps 24/7?"

"Duncan, you'll be the only spouse, and a distraction. The company is planning several excursions with the reps besides the golf, and frankly, being the only one with a spouse will be embarrassing to me. No offense, but it will look like my clingy husband doesn't trust his wife and has to watch over her."

"Clingy husband, huh?"

"I'm not saying you are, but that's how it will look. Is that what you want?"

"Lucille, what about our plans to go to the Keys with the girls?"

"Oh shit, you're right! I forgot about that."

"Well?"

She shook her head. "I'm very sorry. This is a company event; even if I remembered, I'd still have to go. Can't we change the date?"

"The girls have already made their summer plans. Why don't you change your dates for Brent? It's not like that's going to be your first time fucking him."

She sat back and gaped like a blowfish on dry ground. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and Brent having lunch several times a week after the Christmas party, first with others and then alone, after your first hookup at the Pleasant Night Motel the day before Valentine's. Your sex marathons at different motels every week since, and your plans to abandon me and Sheila, his wife, after Memorial Day under the pretense of this golf event."

Fear, respect, guilt and surprise chased each other across Lucille's face. "Where did you get those crazy ideas?"

"You forgot, or just didn't know, Brent is a serial womanizer. That means he has done several other women in your department before. You're just his latest.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and to take up with you, he tossed Brenda Thomas to the curb. Bad move. She never liked you because you're better than her and show her up. Everyone knows you're the prettiest woman in sales, but the killer was Brent dumping her right before Valentine's Day to jump your bones, so she had to spend the romantic holiday alone, rejected.

"Still steaming about Brent's cold-blooded betrayal, she sought me out at the company's Valentine's Day lunch and vented. You'd become so wrapped up with your new boyfriend you didn't notice. She brought me up to speed on hismodus operandi,the names of his favorite restaurants, and days he could get by without making his wife suspicious. Oh, and his plans for your excursion. She's in sales, too, and she told me there is no company rep meeting after Memorial Day."

I paused. "You did know your buddy Brent was married, didn't you? To Madison, who used to be a regular entrant in beauty pageants. Also, with three kids, although they're still in high school."

Color drained from Lucille's face. This conversation, I guessed, was not going the way she'd anticipated. Tough tomatoes. She slowly shook her head.

I continued, "Did you not know he dumped Brenda, or did you not know he was married with kids still in school?"

In a soft voice, she said, "Neither."

"Ahh, so arrogant you thought he was a happily single bachelor, and you were so hot he couldn't keep his hands off you? For some inexplicable reason, this handsome dude was without a woman and couldn't wait to jump into bed with you and swap bodily fluids. I thought you were smart, Luce. Obviously, you have no integrity or morality, but imagine my surprise at discovering you have no intelligence, either."

I stood. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"During our marriage, I've always given you what you wanted. We never needed a house this big, but you wanted one, so we got it. The interior is what you wanted. Your car, your clothes, our vacations. Think about it. Whenever we had a difference of opinion, I caved to your wishes. So, okay, you want a divorce, I'll have you served tomorrow."

Lucille became unglued. She stood, sending her chair flying behind her, and screamed into my face. "No way! I will not give you a divorce. My fling with Brent is--"

"Blah, blah, blah," I interrupted. "It's just sex; it means nothing, and you only love me. One cheater line after the other. Save your breath. You don't have a choice. When I saw you give yourself to your new boyfriend--"

"He's not my boyfriend!" she yelled.

"When you let your boyfriend bury his pecker in you, it was over. I had the papers drawn up and got everything ready. Lisa (our oldest) saw me coming out of the lawyer's office and cornered me. She knew about you and Brent--I didn't ask how--but she persuaded me you weren't that stupid. You would break it off the moment you came to your senses. So, because I still love you, I listened to her and told the lawyer to hold off until you declare yourself one way or the other. So, the papers have been ready, waiting for you to wake up. Instead, you want to break up two marriages, hurt his three kids still in school as well as our three girls to get another dick. In other words, you pulled the trigger."

"Lisa knows?" Lucille sounded defeated and appalled.

"All three do. Lisa told them. They're waiting for me to tell them what you want, one way or the other. So, when are you and Brent leaving?"

"I'm not sure I want to go."

"Sure you do. Start packing. Brent's wife is having this conversation with him as we speak. She's kicking him out today, so he has nowhere to go. You already have a non-refundable condo in Myrtle Beach, so you may as well add a few more days and enjoy yourself there while figuring out what to do with the rest of your life."

With a wail, Lucille cried, "Do our 24 years together mean nothing to you?"

"They evidently mean more to me than to you, slut. Remember, you threw them away at the Christmas party. Instead of coming to your senses, you went on to become Brent's floozydu jour.Until, of course, he moves on to the next one.

"I at least had the respect and decency to divorce you before I start looking for someone with integrity. There are still women like that out there, and I believe I'm worthy of someone like that."

"What about me?"

"You don't qualify."