Whoa. Look What I Found.

This is a fictional story and the people involved have no resemblances to anyone living or dead. Fiction in this context means the events written about are possible but not necessarily probable.

All characters having sex in this story are 18 years of age or older.

I want to express my appreciation to Spellcheck for advice and editing.

WHOA, LOOK WHAT I FOUND.

Wife's cheating exposed by what husband found in her bathroom.

My name is Paul Andrews and this is my story about how my wife's personal hygiene ruined our marriage and family.

My wife, my ex now, is Sara Ridgeway Andrews. We met on a blind date arranged by mutual friends. She'd just graduated from college and was working for the First United National Bank. Her Business Management degree got her into their junior management program.

I'd just started working for Allied Accounting and was new to town so one of my fellow employees; Steve, arranged for a double date. Steve and Brenda had been dating about six months and they thought Sara and I would have some common interests. Nothing compares to the exciting evening of an accountant and business trainee on their first blind date.

It was very evident that we had one thing in common; we weren't going to have sex that evening. I'd have preferred to have this blond-haired average looking woman rub her body on me. It wasn't to be as she acted very guarded; afraid for me to touch her. If she had curves, she was certainly hiding them behind a heavy sweater, long skirt and jacket.

We did have some stimulating conversation on expectations of our careers. Both of us expressed our dreams for the future. Surprisingly, they were very similar. We both came from middle income families in smaller communities than our present big city. I wanted to be an entrepreneur and use my accounting degree to be able to distinguish a great deal from just a good deal.

She wanted to have a stable life climbing the corporate ladder. Continually moving up, other than the two to three times she took maternity leave to have children. That gave me some comfort that one day someone was going to have sex with her. Maybe even more than two or three times.

The evening ended by me walking her to her apartment where she gave me a quick passionless hug and thanked me for the evening. It was better than drinking beer by myself in my small apartment.

On Monday, Steve came by my cubical and gave me a high five. I commented "You must have scored big with Brenda Saturday night to be handing out high fives."

Steve smiled and said "Yeah I did ok Saturday night, but I was congratulating you. Sara couldn't stop talking you up to Brenda. You made a big impression on that girl my friend. She told Brenda to tell me to tell you to call her. Just like junior high school, isn't it?"

"It was a nice evening but I didn't think it was all that spectacular. I guess I'd better give her a call."

Apparently, Sara knew better than I did that we could be a great couple. After a couple of months of dating I found out what was under those heavy clothes. The woman could've been a Playboy Playmate; large round breasts, firm flat belly and well-formed hips. Hips that welcome the man that wins her heart. I was fascinated with a magnificent ass as she got up from my bed to go to the bathroom. She told me that late in high school she matured into a voluptuous woman and was constantly being pawed and propositioned; much to her dismay. She tried to dress conservatively to not encourage unwanted attention.

From the combination of great sex, great personal relationship built on admiration, trust and caring for each other we found ourselves in love.

*****

Marriage was a forgone conclusion as were two children, Hanna and Miranda. Sex was great before and surprisingly after the kids came along. We bought our starter home and the obligatory minivan.

Sara was progressing with her career and was beginning to have more responsibilities handed to her. I did very well at Allied Accounting and was given some time off to earn my CPA designation. Mr. Karstat, owner of Allied took me under his wing and taught me much more than any book or class. After work one afternoon, he asked me to go to dinner with him. He told me he was in negotiations to sell the firm to a large accounting group.

He said "Paul, you are my best employee but you'll not flourish in the environment of the new owner. I think you need to leave Allied prior to the buyout and start your own practice. They'll kill your entrepreneurial spirit and leave you an unhappy man trudging to work every day. You have an entrepreneurial nature that you need to pursue. Please take this under advisement and start planning your future. I'll make sure you take some clients with you as you leave so you don't starve."

That caught me by surprise and I didn't know what to say but "Thank you!" to a man that I admired and respected. Sara and I had nonstop discussions about this over the weekend.

She said "Just stay the course and remain an employee of the new firm. Forget the risky entrepreneurial business and work hard to get your promotions in the years to come. You can make a nice salary as a CPA for a large firm."

"Yeah, if that's what I wanted to do for the next 35 years. Sara, I'm afraid that I'll grow to resent the debits and credits that I'll have to push around every day. This is my chance to break away from drudgery and do what I've dreamed about since high school. I'll start by working here at home while I'm building cliental then move into an office."

"Paul, I think it's an unwise move. We have two small kids; we can't take chances anymore." was her wise banker advice.

"I can't wait until late in life to take risks, it's now or probably never for me."

Sara huffed "I don't like this but I can't stop you. Make sure this works or I'll be really pissed at you. In fact, don't expect me to bankroll this disaster. I'm opening a new checking account for my income. I'll pay half of the household expenses; you better be able to cover the other half."

"I'll do my best Sara." was my reply but I wanted to say "Thanks for nothing, bitch." She copped an attitude by telling me she wouldn't co-sign on any loans for my new endeavor. If it went to shit, she wanted to be on the sidelines. Since she was being a bitch about it, I'm not going to do business with her bank. I'm sure she'll be around when I start making big money though.

Things were tight the next year with Sara bringing home the steady money while my contributions were hit and miss. By the end of the second year, I made slightly more money than Sara but she would've preferred me to create a steady monthly income. Boring!!!

*****

My business model was changing as I was doing more business consultation for prospective deals rather than just creating a trail of money received and spent. This was what I wanted to do and became successful at it.

Since I was making more money than Sara, I started investing more into my startup businesses. I pegged my personal income at Sara's level and invested the amounts above that. What I liked to do with an outstanding business prospect was to reduce or forgive my consulting fee for a piece of the action. I would take 5% to 15% of the ownership for my consulting fees and reduce the fees for the monthly accounting portion of their business. It worked very well for both parties. It reduced the needed startup capital for the prospect plus gave them the opportunity to have my informed analysis and recommendations at any time.

Doing an audit of the firm was impossible as I was an investor, but that was fine with me. My increase in company value was much more than the accounting fees I lost out on. The company could buy me out at any time at an agreed upon market value formula.

The only person not happy with this arrangement was Sara. She really didn't like me investing in startup businesses so I quit telling her. The revenues of my accounting corporation did not reach the level she thought I should have. Instead of revenue, I was building net worth, it didn't show on my balance sheet as the acquired stock was valued at my actual cost of purchase, which was quite low.

Since I had built a strong depth of knowledge and abilities in my staff, I allowed myself the luxury of spending more time with my kids. The three months of tax season was a different story. I tried not to miss a play, concert or sports event they were involved in. I handled all the parent-teacher events without Sara. These were good years as the kids were a delight and Sara and I were doing better than average for our age.

As a result of her knowledge and work ethic, Sara was appointed assistant vice president of the bank with several people answering to her. As a result of that promotion, she decided we needed a larger, nicer, home commensurate to her status as an officer of the bank. I told her we would be better off to wait; which she did....... until the next Saturday. She went to a home show and signed a contract for us to move up. I wasn't happy but not much I could do about it.

Through my membership in the Chamber of Commerce I became friends with a few of the loan officers from her bank. They told me that Sara was referring to me as her "Little Bookkeeper". This disrespect started to show up at home with snide remarks about how well other accounting firms were succeeding while I seemed to slumber. I wasn't asked to join her at the bank Christmas party or summer party. Not that I thought it was a fun time but I felt like she was not wanting me to be around her professionally.

It was time to have a discussion with her about our relationship. On a Saturday afternoon I cornered her in the living room and asked her to sit with me for a few minutes. With a disgusted look she said "Can it wait? I'm trying to get some of your laundry done?"

"Thanks, but I think we need to talk about this. It can wait until this evening. Can you carve out 15 minutes in your schedule then?"

Over her shoulder as she walked away, I heard "Yeah, I can do that." Then she resumed her task.

I didn't push this topic the rest of the day because I wanted to use it as an example of her ignoring me and thinking that what I wanted was irrelevant. My attempt to talk after the kids had gone to bed was nixed because she was tired. We couldn't talk Sunday morning because of getting kids ready to go to Sunday School then church for all of us after that. When the girls went outside to hang out with neighbor kids, I saw her get her purse and head for the door. I stopped her and asked "Do you have a few minutes to talk with me?"

She snapped "Why have you been bothering me about this all weekend. You're running around whining like a little boy wanting his mommy's attention. Can't you see I'm leaving to help my mother with her checkbook. I'll be back in an hour. Can it wait that long?"

"It's been 24 hours since I asked for 15 minutes of your time. I can wait another hour."

It was four hours later when she came into the house then hurried to the kitchen to make dinner. Of course, I would be in the way to have a discussion then.

We were half way through dinner when I turned to her and said "I guess this is as good as any time to talk" which brought an exasperated look on her face. "I believe that we are growing farther and farther apart and I am very concerned about our marriage."

Sara's fork clattered onto her plate and the girls' heads spun to look at me.

"We don't talk to each other like we used to and I feel you don't respect me as a husband. I feel we need to discuss this before it becomes a real problem."

Thru clenched teeth she said "This is neither the time nor the place to have this discussion. I'm surprised you brought this up in front of the girls. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Sara, by your own actions, ignoring me for 30 hours after I made a request for a discussion, you once again shut me out. Is there something going on here that I need to know about?"

She pushed her chair back, took her plate to the kitchen and left the house. Well, I guess our discussion took less time than I expected. My daughters were shell shocked by the confrontation. Miranda asked "Are we all getting divorced?" with a tear in her eye.

Calmly, I said "No honey, nobody's getting divorced. Remember how you and your sister get into arguments sometimes? Well, moms and dads argue about things sometimes too. That doesn't mean we don't love each other or love you and Hanna. Mom didn't run away from home; she just went for a drive."

That seemed to calm the two of them but it didn't calm me. I cleaned up the kitchen, did some work in my office, then put the girls and me to bed. I went to the master bedroom, if she didn't like it, she could sleep on the couch. It was about midnight when she came into the bedroom.

She took off her clothes and approached the bed. I raised the covers for her to join me. She cuddled up next to me and said "I'm not saying I was wrong but I'll try to treat you with the respect I want my husband to have."

I put my arm around her and whispered "That sounds perfect to me. I want to be the best husband ever for you." That smoothed things out around the house for a while.

*****

A couple of years later, she was appointed the Vice President of the Compliance Department; that meant researching and enforcing bank adherence to the FDIC, the Federal Reserve and the Comptroller of Currency rules and regulations. She had the perfect philosophy for this role. To her "You could not do any action that was not specifically approved by the proper governing body". This is totally opposite of my philosophy of "Unless there is a rule against it, everything is legal to do." Is there any doubt that this caused strife in our household?

It's a good thing she didn't know about my investments, they were legal but fiscally stuffy people like her disapproved.

It was about this time that she started going to girls' night out on Tuesday evenings. The longer she attended those events the later she returned home. The kids were now 16 and 14 years old so they didn't need a babysitter, but they needed parental supervision and participation. I was always there for them.

One Tuesday evening I heard fierce cussing from the master bathroom and went upstairs to see what happened. She was standing at the sink and shouting "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck."

"What's the matter?"

She snarled like I had left a turd in the sink saying "My fucking wedding ring fell down the sink. "Do you think you have the ability to rescue it or shall I call a plumber?" I really didn't like the insinuation about my abilities.

After looking under the sink I said "If it stayed in the trap, I'll get it for you, it'll just take a minute."

Once again in an accusatory tone like I was the one who dropped the ring she said "Don't bother, I won't need it tonight anyway."

WHOA, I thought. You're going out but don't need your wedding rings. This set off some alarms and I needed more information right away. I knew that with the present bitchy attitude it was best to be silent but vigilant.

Quickly I looked at her and saw that she had moved to the bedroom and was putting on a sexy thong. Underwear that I had not seen before. She was trying to avoid my view of her getting dressed.

"Girls' night out?"

"Just like every other Tuesday night. Don't you remember?" she snapped.

Sensing that nothing would be gained here, I went to the garage to get a plumber's pliers to undo the trap. She slipped out of the house without a word.

Since the drain was on her half of the double sink, I had a lot of her stuff under the sink to remove before I could get to the trap. I was surprised to see a plain brown box in back of the toilet paper supply. More surprised when I looked inside to see an enema and douche kit. What the Fuck? If anything, she was always complaining about irritable bowel syndrome and diarrhea. Although I thought of it as irritable bitch syndrome. Since when did she need a douche? As I picked out the contents, I found the nozzle of the enema bulb was wet. This is serious. I guess it's true. The husband is always the last to know. But what did I really know, right now, not enough?

When working on a new business plan I always made an attempt to know absolutely everything I could on the enterprise; good and bad. That's what I'll do; start my research now. Not really now as I still had to get under the sink to find her fucking ring. Maybe she'll need it, maybe not. Time will tell.

I took a pencil and marked the flooring where the brown box was replaced. I wanted to see if it would be moved during the next week. I also photo'd a couple of items to see if she put the equipment back in the box exactly as I placed it.

She came home around midnight, stripped, closed the bathroom door and started the shower. I tried to act like I was asleep but if she had touched my chest, she would've found my heart pounding like crazy. She flopped into bed hard enough to make me feel I should act like I just woke up. Then I heard a slight chuckle from her. Bitch.

The next morning, I got up early, mostly because I couldn't sleep. I was very considerate to close the bathroom door prior to my shower. Really, I wanted to check the brown box and sure enough the box had been moved. The douche nozzle was still wet and the box was moved an inch from my line. An enema prior to a night out and a douche on the way to bed. Somebody is doing some serious fucking. Using a Ziplock bag I gently picked up her stinking thong and will have it analyzed for semen. It'd been about three weeks since I'd left any cum in her.

As I was an accountant, I was very familiar with what happens with asset distribution during a divorce. I had done a number of evaluations for both husbands and wives in divorces. Sara would get the house until the girls went to college plus; I would pay child support and not get to be with them as much as I do now. I probably won't pay alimony if my investments weren't considered. She thinks they are worthless, just like me. I wasn't going to pay for a house she could fuck another guy in while my girls were left unsupervised. That was not going to happen.

Now that I had the information that I needed, I'll start my action plan. The item that was key to me is to keep custody of my girls. I can always make money; I have proven that. I have proven I am a good father, now I need to prove she is a poor mother.

Poison came to mind; not chemical poison but emotional poison. Sara is a perfectionist and expects perfection in her staff and family. It drives her crazy when things go wrong. The simplest problems become huge in her mind. When she gets crazy, she gets mean to her staff, me and the kids. I'll use her venom to alienate the kids to want to stay with me after the divorce. Then I would keep the house and the girls.

Quietly, I slipped over to her alarm clock and turned it off. She hates people that are late to work. After her late and obvious fuck filled night, she might like to sleep late.

The kids came to breakfast and wondered where Mom was and I told them she came in late and was probably getting some extra sack time. They understood as they liked to sleep in when they had the chance.

After reviewing the late-night conversations on her cell phone, I pulled up her video play list and hit play without the sound. Hopefully, the cell phone will be dead by the time she gets up. She has a Wednesday morning staff meeting that she says is very important.

An hour later I hear a scream and my name being taken in vain. It appears it was my fault that she slept in after fucking some guy late last night. I took the opportunity to hide from her screeching by going into the garage. Enough air was drained from one of her tires to trigger the dash sensor on her Lexus. She hates it when an alert blocks her screen. It'll drive her nuts to view that screen all the way to work.