Working Class Hero

That wasn't a lot of evidence that an affair was going on, or even imminent, but those were signs of discontent that anyone could pick up, if they knew what to look for.

Johnny walked out into the yard with his cell phone when the family returned home. The moon was already up, nearly full, as he made two important phone calls. He was still on the phone for the second call when Patricia came out to see what he was up to.

"Johnny, are you out here?" Patricia called, as she saw his shadowy figure in the drive.

"Yeah, I'll be inside in a minute," Johnny said to his wife, then returned his attention to the call. "Look, I gotta go. Thanks for the info. I'll let you know how it goes."

"Who were you talking to?" Patricia asked as she watched Johnny put away his phone.

"Union business," he replied, without elaborating. He cursed under his breath at having to lie to Patricia, but it couldn't be helped.

"Oh," she said without conviction. "Johnny, is something bothering you? You were awfully quiet tonight. Even the kids noticed."

"Yeah, I'm all right," he said, as he gathered his wife in his arms., but looked over her shoulder at nothing in particular. "Just a tough day getting ready for turnaround."

Patricia let the emotions wash over her as she stood in the slight chill of early evening in the arms of her husband. There was confusion, concern, a bit of guilt and a pinch of frustration running through her heart. Suddenly, Johnny brought her back to reality with a piercing question.

"Patricia, do you still love me?" Johnny asked.

"Of course I do," she said, a little nervously. "What kind of question is that?"

"Are you happy with me, with our marriage?" Johnny asked again.

"I ... am," she said slowly, a little suspicious. "Johnny what's this all about?"

"Oh, nothing," he said. "I just get the feeling sometimes that you're not satisfied, that we've gotten into a little rut. It's nothing I can put my finger on, but something's not right."

Johnny didn't want to reveal everything he knew about what was going on in Patricia's private life. He didn't want to put her on alert too much, but he did want to get some of his feelings and thoughts into the open, for her to consider.

He'd made up his mind that he wasn't going to resort to trickery or following his wife around to see if she stayed faithful. He didn't have the time, the money or the inclination for that. Either she was with him or she wasn't, and it would be up to her to make that call.

If she stepped out on him, he'd know pretty quickly, and he would take the appropriate action if it became necessary.

"Maybe we have gotten into a bit of a rut," Patricia whispered. "Come on, let's go inside. It's a bit chilly out here, and maybe I can warm you up the right way."

"That sounds good," Johnny said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

With a sigh, he turned them toward the carport and the side door to the house.

^ ^ ^ ^

Johnny lay on his back listening to Patricia's soft snoring, the sweat of their earlier lovemaking still drying on his skin.

As sex went, it had only been OK. It was sort of like they were just going through the motions that night, like each of their minds were off some place else.

He smiled, but it was a slightly sad smile, as he recalled their wedding night. Even after almost 20 years it was still the highlight of their sexual history.

They had driven his pickup truck six hours to the beachfront condo in Panama City, where they were going to spend a week on their honeymoon.

The trip had been a gift from Johnny's father, with help from the old man's buddies in the union. It had been their way of welcoming the kid into the fold. Of course, when he got back to work, Johnny had to endure the bawdy gibes from the guys about what had gone on in Florida, but Johnny would always smile and think to himself, "if only they knew."

They had been tired after the long day, but they were still keyed up in anticipation of the night to come.

It had been a typical Catholic wedding -- a long ceremony, with a lot of standing and kneeling, up and down, up and down -- then the reception had been a bit taxing. Mr. Simmons had spared no expense in putting on the finest reception he could for his daughter.

It was dark by the time they arrived at the condo, and Johnny could feel the butterflies in his stomach as they rode the elevator to their floor and walked arm-in-arm down the breezeway.

It had been a month since they'd made love, abstaining for several reasons, and they were hot to go. Johnny sort of picked up his bride at the threshold of the doorway, and they kissed deeply.

They didn't even bother to unpack. Still kissing wildly, Johnny maneuvered Patricia backward into the bedroom. As they duck-walked toward the bed, Johnny found the zipper to Patricia's dress and by the time they reached the bed, the dress had fallen to the floor.

Patricia's eyes were on fire as she unbuttoned her husband's shirt and threw it aside. Her hands fumbled for the belt to his pants, to the hard cock she was desperate for. She was panting already, her whole being tight as a bowstring, sitting on the edge of climax, and she hadn't even been touched yet.

Johnny saw the wild look in his wife's eyes, and that just inflamed his lust. He didn't think he would ever get tired of this woman -- indeed, 20 years later, he still wanted her -- and he left little kisses down Patricia's neck as he unfastened her bra.

Patricia didn't even wait for Johnny; she pulled the covers back, flopped onto the bed, slid her panties off and opened her legs in wanton invitation.

"Please, Johnny, please, fuck me," she wailed as she reached down and spread open the dripping gates to her sex. "I need it now. You can love me later. Right now, I need you and I need you to fuck ... me ... hard!"

Johnny's cock was a throbbing piece of iron-hard meat as he crawled into the bed and knelt between his wife's open legs. He marveled at the intense look of lust on her face as she strummed her clit while she waited for him to fuck her.

He didn't mess around. He placed the head of his cock to Patricia's opening and thrust forward with all the power his muscular hips could produce.

Johnny hadn't even gotten all the way in before Patricia completely lost it. She'd been sitting on a tinderbox of pent-up passion for days, and when she finally got what she'd been craving, that passion went up in white-hot flames.

Her moans and keens were other-worldly as her whole body shook with the explosive climax, the likes of which she'd never experienced before, nor ever would again. Her body was taking Johnny's frenzied thrusts and then some. In fact, he said later that he now knew what bull-riders felt. All he could do was hang on and ride it out.

Johnny did his best to hold back the raging tide of his own climax, but Patricia was having none of it. She wanted his cum, and she wanted it NOW!

And she got what she wanted. With a growl, Johnny hit a blistering pace for maybe a dozen extraordinarily deep thrusts then spewed jet after jet of molten-hot cum.

Johnny and Patricia just clutched at each other as the orgasm rippled from one to the other, as Johnny kept churning his cock back and forth in her soupy cunt.

The deep kisses, the electric feeling of their sweat-covered bodies and the feeling of his semen sloshing around his cock had the effect of reigniting their lust, as they segued right into another passionate session.

Patricia could feel another one of "those" climaxes building, one where she seemed to be having an out-of-body experience, and Johnny just kept working, plowing his cock relentlessly as the fuck frenzy nearly overwhelmed them both.

As Patricia went rigid with her second powerful climax, Johnny felt another orgasm coming from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and he sent another hard load of cum into his wife's flooded canal. This one wasn't quite as powerful as the first, but it felt just as good.

Afterward, they had laid together in the sweaty afterglow of their first fuck as a married couple and pledged their undying love for each other.

Where had that gone? Johnny could only wonder. Was their love really dying, or was this just one of those phases that all married couples go through? Was Patricia really set on cheating or was he reading too much into the situation?

It was in that troubled state of mind that Johnny rolled over, snuggled up to his wife -- who spooned back into him, he noted gratefully -- and drifted off to sleep

^ ^ ^ ^

Things went downhill quickly that week. On Friday, the girls had again invited Patricia to accompany them to the club where they went every Friday, and she'd gone with them again. As was the case the week before, William had been there, almost like he knew in advance what was up.

Once again, they adjourned to a dance club and once again, William had monopolized Patricia's time.

This time, he'd taken a few liberties, squeezing her butt a few times and grinding into her pelvic area with his groin. Each time, Patricia pushed him away, but she was giggly about it, and took it as just a joke.

When Johnny got home from work, he had been met with a message on the answering machine that Patricia was going out straight from work, and his blood began to boil. Later, he got a quick phone call, and his lips had a grim set to them when he was finished.

Patricia got home about 10:30 that night to find Johnny with an angry look on his face.

"Where in the hell have you been?" he snarled.

"I left you a message," she answered. "I went out with the girls from the office. They were nice enough to invite me and I decided I wanted to have a little fun. Is that a crime?"

"What the fuck has gotten into you?" he said. "All of a sudden you've become some barfly, some party girl? And did it ever occur to you that I might want to enjoy a night out too? Or was that the whole idea? To go out alone without your husband, with a bunch of single women?"

"What is this? Do you suddenly not trust me?" she answered. Patricia had had just enough to drink to be bold, even slightly belligerent, which was not her nature. "You think I'm screwing around on you?"

"Are you?" Johnny spat back.

"Fuck you! I don't have to listen to this," Patricia said as she turned on her heel and stalked off to the bedroom.

She failed to notice that the door to Brittany's bedroom was cracked and that their daughter was hearing everything that was going on.

Daniel was on a sleepover with a friend, but Brittany had come home an hour or so earlier after hanging out at the mall with her friends. She and her father had sat together and talked a little about some thing that were on their minds.

Patricia slammed the door to their bedroom and locked it, but that didn't last long.

"Patricia, unlock this door now, because if you don't I'll break it down, and you don't want me to do that," he said in a low, deceptively calm voice. "Trust me."

Patricia may have been angry -- as much with herself as she was with her husband -- but she knew the tone in Johnny's voice. It was one she'd only heard a few times, and each time somebody got their butt kicked. Or came perilously close to it.

Johnny had a pretty even disposition, and was considered one of the nicest guys around. But he was of Irish descent, and he did have a temper that he took great pains to suppress. Patricia had seen him when he'd been provoked to real anger, and it was something she wanted no part of, especially when it was directed at her.

She knew she'd pushed him too far, so she quickly walked over, unlocked the door then retreated to the bathroom, where she dissolved in bitter tears. She couldn't understand what was happening to her, to her life. They'd had it so good, and now, suddenly, it was falling apart.

Eventually, they had kissed and made up, each apologizing for getting angry, but there was still a sense of foreboding around the McMullen house that weekend, like there was an uneasy truce.

Part of what was fueling Patricia's feelings was the fact that William had once again invited her to have dinner with him at one of the city's finest restaurants, and this time she'd said yes.

Why was she tempting fate like that? She'd asked herself that question over and over, and the answers she found sounded hollow.

She told herself that William understood her, where she'd come from and what she wanted out of life. She told herself that she missed the finer things in life she'd had growing up as a banker's daughter that she didn't have as a workingman's wife. She told herself that William cut a more dashing figure, a more suave look than her more compact, more average-looking husband. She told herself that she was physically drawn to William, like a moth to a flame.

She told herself all of these things, but did she really believe them? In her heart, if she was honest with herself, she knew she was rationalizing, inventing excuses for a possible affair, an affair she knew could only end in nothing but heartbreak for everyone.

She told herself, finally, that nothing would happen. Again. She wouldn't let anything happen. Would she?

^ ^ ^ ^

Turnaround at the foundry was the annual week-long period the company used to overhaul and make needed repairs and upkeep on the equipment. Production was halted for the duration while the maintenance crew did its work.

For several weeks, company engineers had inspected every inch of the plant, taking note of such things as metal fatigue, cracks or flaws in pipes and buckets, worn parts in machinery. Anything that could fail and jeopardize the production process or put workers in harm's way was noted and placed on the turnaround schedule.

In addition to the regular maintenance crews, the company typically hired temporary workers, journeymen provided by the various unions that the company used -- machinists, pipe fitters, boilermakers, teamsters and laborers -- plus other professionals who had more specialized skills.

It was a 24-hour-a-day effort for about a week, give or take a day or two, depending on how quickly the work was finished. The schedule required some of the regulars to work abnormal shifts to get the repairs done in a timely manner so production could resume as soon as possible.

Johnny had been assigned the swing shift, requiring him to work from 2:30 until 11 at night, with a half-hour dinner break.

He usually didn't mind the swing shift, but this time it was a real inconvenience, because it wouldn't allow him to be home in the evenings to confront this crisis that was brewing in his marriage.

Even though he told himself he wasn't going to shadow his wife or try to coerce her into some sort of admission of guilt, he had no plans to stand idly by while Patricia cheated on him. He'd already taken some steps to insure that he was as informed as he could possibly be of what she was doing, where she was going and who she was with.

It was on Wednesday night, around dinner, when he got a text message on his cell phone. It consisted of three words that were like daggers to his heart: "tonight's the night."

The rest of the night, he had trouble concentrating on his work for worrying about what Patricia was doing and who she was doing it with.

Would he still have a viable marriage when he got home that night? It almost broke his heart to realize that he might not..

^ ^ ^ ^

Patricia had a vague feeling of dread as she applied her make-up. She was wearing a cocktail dress she had only worn once or twice for special outings. Why she'd picked it out of her closet mystified her, but she had to admit, it looked good on her. It was snug, but not tight, emphasizing her lush curves, the plump breasts and the succulent butt.

Her emotions were all over the map over her pending dinner date with William. One minute she was telling herself she shouldn't be doing this, going out to dinner with some man not her husband. The next minute she was defiantly arguing that she was a big girl and she could do whatever she wanted, and that she was entitled to have a little fun.

She was concentrating so furiously on the argument going on in her head that she didn't hear Brittany come in the room until her daughter suddenly spoke up.

"Where are you going decked out like that, Mom?" Brittany asked.

"I'm meeting a friend for dinner." Patricia said, a little nervously.

"Is this friend male or female?" Brittany said.

"That's none of your business, young lady," Patricia bristled.

"That's what I thought," Brittany said. "I just hope you realize that when you and Daddy get divorced, I'm staying with him."

"We're not getting a divorce," Patricia said. "What makes you think we are?"

"You will be if you keep doing what you're doing ... Mom," Brittany said. "And it will all be your fault. Look at you. Daddy's working his ass off to provide for us, and you're getting dressed up to go out and cheat on him."

"I am not going to cheat on your father!" Patricia said.

"Yeah, right," Brittany said as she spun around and stalked out of her parents' bedroom.

William Broadacres was at his most charming as he regaled Patricia with stories of his exploits in court, the settlements he'd won, the vacations to exotic climes he'd taken, the big house he'd bought in the city's most exclusive neighborhood, the possessions he owned.

He'd been mildly disappointed when she showed up for their date in a long peasant-style skirt with a long-sleeved blouse and a buttoned-down vest. He'd hoped for something a little more revealing. But it was no matter, he'd have it off of her by the end of the night, regardless of what she wore.

Patricia was only half-listening. She was replaying the conversation with her daughter in her mind. If Brittany had figured out what was going on, then she must not have been as circumspect as she thought she'd been.

Moreover, the talk of divorce and the prospect of losing her family had forced her to shed the scales from her eyes, the ones that had been blinding her to what she was doing.

Suddenly, she knew what she had to do. She just hoped it wasn't too late.

"William, I'm sorry, but I can't do this," she said as she stood up and reached for her purse, "Thanks for the drink, but I really have to go home. This was a big mistake. I'm sorry."

With that, she turned and walked briskly from the restaurant, got in her car and headed for home. On the way, she did something she very rarely did, and that was stop at the liquor store for a pint bottle of Crown Royal, her drink of choice when she needed something to calm her nerves.

She'd been acting a fool, and she'd finally realized it, admitting it to herself. William Broadacres was a seducer, who did not have her best interests at heart. He might look good on the surface, but she had a man -- a real man -- already, and he'd always stood by her, through thick and thin.

And this was how she repaid him? By getting on a slippery slope toward adultery? She was deeply ashamed of herself, and when she arrived at their small -- but cozy -- little home, she lost it and burst into tears as she sat behind the wheel of her car.

She'd come so close to losing the best thing that had ever happened to her. Indeed, she wondered if she'd already lost him by the way she'd acted in recent weeks. She could only pray it wasn't too late.

^ ^ ^ ^

Johnny was bone-ass tired, in his body and in his soul, when he pulled his pickup truck into the space next to Patricia's car. He noted dully that she was home, which didn't prove anything one way or another. He did touch the hood as he walked to the door and was pleasantly surprised to find it cold, meaning she'd been home for quite some time.

But that still didn't change the fact that his wife had gone out to meet another man behind his back, to do who knows what.