We Need to Talk Ch. 02

A work of fiction. All characters are over 18 years. Best read sequentially; first read chapter one to make better sense of this. Synopsis: Headstrong Myra has a boyfriend and her husband Wendell doesn't like it. What are his options?

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The next morning I awoke early, before six, and laid in bed thinking. Myra had shocked me last night by threatening divorce and going so far as to have an attorney prepare divorce papers. Then she had double-shocked me by going out for two hours dressed in a LBD. I'd set her straight about dating other men by spanking her bottom bright red, after which Myra revealed she was still thinking about my long ago affair with Claire Haskell. She wanted to hear the prurient details, too, a third shock to me.

I wondered if Myra had been keeping her kinky side hidden from me. A date with a mystery man? Inconceivable, yet she had done it. An orgasm after spanking? That, too. My surprising wife!

Myra was sleeping soundly, so I quietly slipped out of bed and padded downstairs, intent on some coffee and quiet time to think. The sun was just coming up behind the mountains and it should be another beautiful day, but cooler by the looks of it. With the dark shades down in our bedroom, Myra could sleep until she was fully rested.

I made a cup of coffee as noiselessly as possible and ate a bowl of Wheaties with a banana. Yeah, this project would require a champion, so I better eat like one. I took 800 mg. of ibuprofen to calm my throbbing brain, still suffering from last night's alcoholic excesses. I was glad to be done with the booze. From now on, I was staying dry.

My first order of business was her boyfriend. My working plan was to find out who he was, cut the two of them off, and scare him away. That mightn't be so easy, knowing how stubborn Myra could be, and I didn't know anything about the man, not even his name. He might be a persistent son-of-bitch.

Most likely he was someone from work but I was guessing. Meeting a man online seemed unlike Myra. No, it was probably someone from work. She might've been spending hours a day, over weeks, or even months, getting chummy with some sweet talking ladies' man. I bet people at work knew, too. I'd been oblivious and I had myself to blame for that. I'd been working, drinking, and ignoring Myra.

I had to play a long game. I might draw Myra back to me but her mystery man could remain lurking at work or somewhere else, biding his time, and subtly working his seduction. I would find him and drive him away. Permanently.

Maybe after last night she had dropped him, at least in her mind, but I doubted it. She had said she was sorry about last night's date, but I suddenly realized something. She hadn't even admitted to seeing him last night, much less repudiated him. I didn't know what had happened during the two hours she was gone; who she was with, where she'd gone, or what she'd done. I didn't think anything sexual could've happened because she came back in pristine condition. But she came back horny, too, and I knew I wasn't totally responsible for that, much as I'd like to think I was.

I went to her purse and took her cell phone off the charger. I tried her passcode, her six digit birthday, but she had changed the code. Hmmm. I slipped her phone into my pocket and took her car keys for good measure.

I thought about our talk, and she had basically told me three things. First, a phase of her life was over. The kids were raised and we were financially secure. Second, she had a lawyer who had drawn up divorce papers, but as of yet, she was holding off serving me. And third, she 'was seeing a man'. She had a boyfriend and so far, according to her, they were sharing coffees, holding hands, and touching smiles. So far.

I knew how fast things could escalate because I had been there myself with Claire Haskell. Without a doubt, I had to drive a stake through the heart of this romance right now. Like yesterday.

My second order of business was me. I was at least 50 lbs. overweight and I had a drinking problem. According to Myra, I was a dud in bed and had been for quite a while. On the plus side, I was well respected professionally and I still enjoyed my work. My weight had gone up and down over the years, along with my drinking, but I knew I could whip myself back into shape because I'd done it before. But for the first time, I considered the need for professional guidance to keep me that way. I had a nagging suspicion I was running out of chances with Myra. What was it she had said last night? Fish or cut bait?

Last night I'd laid down the law about seeing another man, but in the clear morning light I recognized a fundamental truth: Myra was stubborn and she had a self-righteous streak. She would continue seeing this jerk for as long as she was able to convince herself they were 'just friends'. She would never allow me such a friendship with another woman, yet she saw nothing wrong with having a male friend. I knew better than to let this continue because that's how Claire Haskell and I'd gotten started. Sharing a cup of coffee, listening to each other complain about our spouses, eating lunches together, and before long, renting a motel room for an afternoon. It can happen fast.

But if I bear down on Myra she might take it underground, just like Claire and I did, so I had to play it smart. Boyfriend? Lover? I didn't know for sure. My gut told me he was only a boyfriend, so far, but her affair appeared to be primed on a hair trigger to go physical. The way she had dressed up last night? Hair up, heavier than usual makeup, dangling earrings, LBD, CFM heels? I knew what that meant. I should never have let her out of the house last night, but I was too drunk and too prideful and too stupid. But no more.

She denied having a lover and bristled when I referred to him as her boyfriend, but that was Myra. I knew her mind. She had the stubborn ability to deny reality if it suited her purposes. It was a mindset that had allowed her to raise three willful children into competent adults, and get other impossible things accomplished on a regular basis, but sometimes it came at the price of near willful blindness. She was very intelligent but sometimes needed help channeling her energies along the proper path. I suppose most husbands would have gone nuclear over what she had done last night, but I recognized my wife needed my help. I knew I had to control my anger and choke back my pride if I was going to deal with this effectively, and permanently.

I chuckled, thinking how I had pantsed Myra last night and spanked her bare bottom. It was fitting retribution for going out with another man and rubbing my nose in it. That was outrageous, really, and she had really shocked me. I would've never guessed she would do something like that. But in another sense, I was proud of her for doing whatever the hell she wanted. I'd always admired her for that; her strong sense of self and her independent mind. Only this time she'd turned it on me.

It'd be too easy to dismiss this as a one-off, a provocative gesture to grab my attention, but I knew better. This jerk, whoever he was, was a real threat to my marriage. I had to assume he was out to steal Myra, or at least get into her pants. Any man who dates a married woman is an asshole in my book. I had to learn more about my rival and neutralize him, and by whatever means necessary.

The divorce papers were another clear threat, but maybe not so immediate. Divorce is expensive for both parties, even in a no-fault state. I intended to fight like hell if she filed, and I'd make sure she knew that. Nonetheless, I had to see an attorney next week to protect myself.

Then, too, Myra's pride could work against her in a divorce. It's virtually impossible for a marriage to end with any sort of dignity for either party, and Myra valued her dignity. I'd threaten to air all our dirty laundry in the most public way possible if it came down to that. Oh, yes I would! Alcoholism had stripped me of my pride more than once. One more time was no big deal.

I really couldn't imagine Myra pursuing rape charges for my rash digital penetration, or assault charges for her spanking. I knew that was the way of the world in some precincts, but I didn't think that extreme feminist worldview had reached the judiciary in our little city, but you never could be sure. Some grandstanding prosecutor with higher political ambitions might decide this was just the vehicle to further their political career. Combine that with an activist judge, and I could be in trouble.

But her accusations would have a short half-life. Sure, theoretically, she could accuse me months or even years from now, but as a practical matter, staying married to me and sleeping in my bed would let most of the air out of her balloon. Beside, any number of colleagues could be called to testify that I, Dr. Wendell Cooper, was a most gentle and caring physician. I'd kept my drinking mostly hidden and private, so it would be Myra's word against mine if she brought up my boozing. I figured I could counter her by waging a PR campaign, and I knew Myra's tolerance for public humiliation would be low. All's fair in love and war, baby. Nevertheless, I'd talk with an attorney.

Would Myra be openly defiant? Would she refuse to give up her coffee buddy?

Very possible, I thought. Very possible.

Suddenly, and without warning, Claire Haskell popped into my head. I really hadn't thought about her in years but ever since Myra mentioned her last night, she kept showing up in my thoughts. I felt bad about what had happened to her. She'd divorced, been forced to move away from her hometown, raised two young children as a single mother, and it was partly, maybe mostly, my fault. I wondered if she had remarried. I hoped so, and I hoped she'd found a good man. I suspected that her ex-husband, George, had married that blonde airhead he was fooling around with, but I didn't know. There had always a whiff of deadbeat about George, and I wondered if he'd paid Claire her child support.

Claire's two children would be grown by now. Maybe she was a grandmother! That was fun to contemplate. I hadn't seen Claire in 19 years, back when she was still in her early thirties. She was quite a looker back then. Nice figure, too, and in my minds eye I could still see her naked. She wasn't shy about that. She knew how to pose, how to move, and how to break down a married man's defenses. And once broken down, she'd kept me coming back for more, like an eager puppy, until we got caught. Then it was Splitsville and I thought for a time I was going to lose Myra and my children. Myra stayed with me, why I don't know, but I thank God she did. I never want to go through that again.

I heard Myra stirring upstairs and began making her a cup of coffee. Already, I had a plan.

Her hair was pulled back under a hairband, and even free of makeup, she was gorgeous. She always had been. Why had I ever neglected her? I had been selfish and full of self-pity, that's how.

"Good morning, Beautiful," I said, handing her a cup of coffee. "Sleep well?"

She gave me the cutest smile and a peck on the lips, and said, "Sure did. Thanks for last night, and all the attention."

No use avoiding it. Here goes.

"How's your bottom feeling this morning? Still stinging? Still red?" I asked.

Her smile didn't fade, it fact, it got bigger and her eyes twinkled. "I can still feel it but it's okay. Just a little red," she replied, giving me another kiss.

"That's what happens to naughty girls, they get spanked on their bare bottoms. I hope you're done being a naughty girl," I said. "Or maybe you're not."

I saw a fleeting shadow cross her face as she turned to pop a piece of bread into the toaster. I was playing long ball, so I'd let this play out her way.

Her back was to me when she spoke. "You know, I'm sorry things have come to this, Wendell. I never meant to hurt you, but this...thing...just sort of...happened. I suppose you're going to stop me from seeing him, aren't you?"

And there it was.

'Damn straight,' I wanted to say. I took a cleansing breath.

"Hardly. If you really wanted to see him badly enough, I couldn't stop you no matter what I did. I know that from experience. But how important is your marriage, Myra? That's the question you should be asking yourself."

"You aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?"

I laughed. "No, what sort of man paves the way for his wife's boyfriend?"

I could see her silently stewing and I could almost hear the gears grinding. Finally she said, "I'm scheduled to meet him this morning for coffee. I'll tell him we have to cool it, but I want to remain friends. I value his friendship."

"I see. Okay, one question, Myra. Who came first, the divorce lawyer or the boyfriend?"

I saw surprise and then steely determination in her eyes. "The divorce lawyer. It's still on the table, Wendell. And please don't call him my boyfriend. He's just a friend."

I could think of a thousand ways this conversation could burst into flames and that's not what I wanted. Time to backup and regroup.

"Okay, I'll call him your coffee buddy. I'm going upstairs for a shower. Pardon me if I avoid the downstairs shower for awhile." I kissed her forehead and headed upstairs.

I had just stepped into the shower when I heard the bathroom door open and Myra ask, "Wendell, have you seen my cell phone? I thought I left it on the charger."

"You did. I have it. I'll give it back to you when I come downstairs."

The bathroom door closed with a little too much force. I was downstairs 20 minutes later.

"What am I, your prisoner? Do you have my car keys, too?" she demanded.

I held out her keys and she snatched them back. "No, not my prisoner. But these are unusual times and I'm protecting my interests. Come to the living room and I'll give you back your phone."

We sat down on the sofa together, same as last night, but this time side by side. I took her phone from my pocket and said, "What's your passcode?"

"That's private and none of your business."

I sighed. She wanted to play a power game, so I handed her the phone. "Okay, you unlock it."

She did, turning the phone away from me so I couldn't watch. Six digits again, I thought. Hmmm. Maybe another birthday? Probably not mine! I took the phone back and opened up her contacts.

"What's his name?"

She was fuming but trying to keep her cool. "He's under Aaron."

Not his real name, I thought, but that name puts him at the top of the contacts list. Convenient.

And there he was, with an area code I didn't recognize, but no address or any other information. I sent his contact info to my phone.

"What's his real name?" I said. I looked up, poised to edit her phone.

I was sure I could see steam coming out her ears. "David Newton."

I tapped that into her phone. "Address?"

"I don't know. I've never been to his place."

"Good thing for you," I said. "Don't ever go there. What's he do?"

"He's an attorney."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "Your attorney?" She shook her head 'no'.

Just then a text arrived, from Aaron nee' David Newton.

A: Just confirming our date. See you at 10:30?

I read it to her. "It's still a go, right Myra?" I said, holding up her phone for her to see.

"Give me that," she said, reaching for it.

"Sit down," I said. I tapped out a reply and hit 'send'.

She was addled. She'd been caught completely flat-footed and she looked at me, surprised, her mouth half-open. She reached for the phone again but I kept it away from her. I showed her the message I'd just sent.

M: Yes, see you at 10:30. My husband is coming, too, he wants to meet you.

Myra's eyes got big and she looked at me, shocked and confused. "What? You're kidding! You're coming, too? You sure?"

His reply came 30 seconds later.

A: Really? No joke? He knows about us?

I kept her phone and texted him back.

M: Really, no joke. He wants to meet you.

Myra seemed stunned.

A: Is it safe? Is he mad?

M: Not mad, just curious. He's a gentle man.

A: Ha! Okay, I get it. See you soon.

"Seriously? Are you sure about this? Are you going to start a fight?" she asked, getting agitated.

"No fighting unless I have to defend myself, or you," I replied. "How about you? Do you want the truth about your coffee buddy? Are you interested in working to save your marriage? If you are, be completely honest with me and cooperate while I flush him out. If you side with him against me like you just did this morning...well, let's not go there. Fish or cut bait, baby."

I was stern and tough and unyielding, and Myra picked right up on that. She looked a little scared, too. Good. I had stared her down and she had flinched. Not exactly my long game, but I was winging it.

"Wendell, to me he's just been a friend, a sympathetic ear, a confidant. He paid attention to me. Maybe I was feeling, I don't know, neglected? Ignored? He seemed so nice, so willing to listen. Maybe I've misread him and his intentions. I really haven't had romantic feelings for him. I didn't think he was trying to seduce me; I could be wrong, I suppose. I'll cooperate, Wendell, whatever you say. I didn't think this was such a big deal but maybe I was wrong. I don't want this to come between us."

Incredible, I thought. Our perceptions were exactly 180 degrees out of phase.

I looked at my watch. "We'll leave in two hours." I kept her phone and got up, walked to my den, and shut the door. That was cold, I knew, but I was furious and couldn't help myself. She'd sided with him against me, and the more I thought about it, the more pissed I got. This was deadly serious.

I made some phone calls, calmed down, and came back to the living room. Myra hadn't moved and looked nervous, wringing her hands. I sat down again, right next to her, and started quizzing her. I was in no mood for BS.

"Start at the beginning, Myra. I have to know everything, every single detail. No matter what you may think, no matter what you may have done, you haven't done anything I can't forgive. But don't lie to me, Myra. I won't forgive that."

I learned that David Newton was a lawyer from California, he had moved here a year ago, and he did consulting work for Myra's boss. Apparently, he wasn't practicing law in the usual sense of having an office. What kind of consulting work he did, she didn't know. They had met at work three months ago. From my point of view, he had wooed her with the usual nonsense talk, funny stories, transparent compliments, cups of coffee, special smiles, lunch, and now, just last night, drinks and dessert. He'd first held her hand a month ago, kissed her cheek a few weeks later, and last night had walked her to her car, and for the first time, briefly kissed her on her lips. She'd broken the kiss and driven herself home, but clearly he was angling for more. She came home dripping like a faucet and now that I knew why, I was really pissed.

I wasn't surprised by his modus operandi but I was surprised by how easily Myra had been taken in. This guy was a smooth operator who preyed on married women, and in my opinion Myra wasn't his first conquest. I was surprised, too, by how matter-of-fact Myra was with me, like she saw nothing wrong with being friends with this weasel. By the end of our talk, I detected cracks forming in her opinion of David Newton.

We arrived at the coffee house and parked in a nearby lot.

"Do you recognize his car?" I asked. She pointed to a new, white, Mustang GT with a Golden City Law School sticker on the rear window. I took some pictures, including the California license plates, and we headed for the front door. We were 15 minutes late. Perfect.