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A Husband's Decision

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Part One: A most Awful Friday Night.

How in God's name could she do this to me ... again!

Here I sit ... like some kind of fool! It is late, and I am sitting in an empty house, with just the night light from the kitchen to provide what light there is. I am listening to some soft jazz, but my mind is not on it. My thoughts are across town in a high-test hotel room. I am feeling a mix of emotions; they are all at war within me. I feel angry, frustrated, jittery, and restless; I can't relax ... I can't sit still. It seems like my mind is trying to process a thousand thoughts at once. To add to my confusion there was also an element of arousal that I cannot fully account for. It was just lingering around in the background with everything else I am feeling. Mostly I am angry ... damn angry! My wife of fifteen years is in a hotel room with another man, a stranger.

Well, he is a stranger to me. It's something she needs, she says. She asked me to go home but not to wait up for her. Doesn't she know that would be impossible for me? I can't just sit here, and do what ... wait for her while she is having sex with another man? No fucking way! I decided that I was not going to be here when she returns! So, I climb the stairs, put a change of clothes quickly in a small bag, grabbed my coat with my wallet in it, a bottle of wine off the counter and headed for the door.

There is a fair-to-middling motel a few miles from here; I can stay there until I can figure out what to do. In the car, I am just sitting and thinking. She said that if I did not want her to go with this man, she would not go. I am guessing that she thought that I would just go along with it ... a gross misjudgment on her part, I would say. Because I called the bi ... ah, my wife's bluff and said NO, don't go! I told her not to do it, but she went anyway. I am just guessing that she didn't want the hassle of sneaking around behind my back by getting my willing agreement.

So, what was my next step supposed to be at that moment ... just grab her by the arm, and force her little ass into the car and take her home? That would have been the manly thing to do, albeit a little on the Cro-Magnon side. That would have accomplished nothing! She would just go behind my back at her first opportunity. This is not the first time for my dear wife. She had an affair about five years ago, that nearly tore apart our marriage. That time, she was fucking a client for some weeks before I found out. This was the only affair I knew about, and her actions tonight left me wondering if there had been more, I didn't know about.

"Damn her! ... Damn her to HELL!" I thought as I jammed my foot on the brake and stabbed at the start button. I didn't mean to take my frustrations our on my little Jeep, it was just too handy a stand-in for her. I proceeded to the motel, and checked in. Pulled the bottle of dark red wine out of the small bag with my change of clothes in it, and started to do some serious damage to it. Since tomorrow—or actually today—was Saturday, I didn't have any place to be so getting drunk seemed a viable option.

I am Tom. My wife Janet and I have been married for fifteen years. We have no children and live in an upscale neighborhood. I am a corporate finance manager, and Janet is a successful real estate broker. At thirty-six, Janet is petite and shapely, with dark brown hair and gorgeous emerald-green eyes. She is a stunner ... no doubt! To think of that petite shapely little ass being plundered at this very moment by god-knows-who, is driving be crazy.

Our marriage has not been the greatest; we have had problems as everyone has and I guess ... maybe a few more than most. Since her affair, our love life has become somewhat ... staid. You could say that it has become a marriage of convenience ... a convenience to our professional lives. I know that professionals do not like to admit it, but it is more acceptable in business society to be married ... it shows stability and dependability to prospective clients and to upper management.

I have always noticed the way men watched Janet as she walked down the street. And why not? They are attracted I suppose, by her incredibly beautiful dark-green eyes and the natural wiggle in her shapely little ass as she walks. Janet has become a somewhat restless spirit over the years of our marriage. Since we married young, I am guessing she has to have wondered what it would be like to be with another man. Well, she found out, at least once that I knew about. After her affair, we had a tough time but we worked through it. I nearly divorced her ass when I found out. In the end, I made sure she knew that there are second chances in life ... but there are no third chances! So, here we are again.

As I said, we got married early; Janet was only nineteen when we started dating and barely twenty-one when we were married, and I was not much older. Sometimes I think that she feels cheated out of the normal experience of dating other men before marriage. She was lively and sweet in college, and before the wedding, but something changed inside her after a miscarriage early on. She became distant, not as youthful and fun loving. She threw herself into her work, and completed her real estate broker's license. We have stayed together mostly because of our comfortable life styles, busy jobs, and perhaps ... well, maybe just out of habit.

We do not have children because Janet cannot have them ... we tried. Adopting was just an idea that we put off during our busy social and professional lives ... just never got around to it. Honestly, I think that her inability to have children herself just turned her off to the idea of raising some other woman's baby. To spice things up we have tried role-playing, and have even done the "meeting-at-the-bar" game some couples use to get the juices flowing. Early on, playing that particular game, I made the mistake of voicing a fantasy about her maybe being with another man. It was just that ... a fantasy, but she remembered that I said it.

At the time, she reacted with a puzzled look saying, "Would you really like to see me um, with someone else, Thomas?

I reaction was immediate, "NO! God no ... of course not honey!" Once you start down the road of trying to explain a verbal slip, you end up just making it worse. I would never want to lose this diminutive beauty, especially not that way.

You might ask what the initial attraction was. Well, I was a college athlete (Baseball, mostly, and a little track), and Janet and her best friend Brenda were cheerleaders. I dated Brenda before Janet, but I fell for Janet's incredible emerald eyes and pretty, petite figure. Quite shallow no doubt, but what can you expect from a college kid ... more raging hormones than brains. Cute and petite; what's not to like. Were we in love? Yah, I guess, at the start and for some years. People's lives get busy with work and other activities. Then there was that horrible night that she lost a child we were both excited about having. Later, the doctor informed her that she was would not be able to have children. Something just clicked off inside her, very palpably.

Once a jock, always a jock. I have always stayed active, with bicycling, downhill skiing, racquetball with friends, and some pickup baseball with former classmates. Janet joined with me in some of these activities ... not racquetball or baseball, but some skiing, and bicycling. She liked tennis, and I joined her in that activity, but she was much better at it than I was. I consider myself more fit than most other thirty-eight year-olds, at about five-eleven, and one hundred seventy-two pounds. I am not classically handsome, but female friends have often told me that I am "cute," whatever in the hell that means.

One this particular Friday night, I wanted to take my wife out for dinner and drinks, to celebrate an escrow closing for one of her clients. We went to a nice restaurant, and had a great meal. She likes champagne but I think it's garbage, so I had a nice red wine with my NY strip steak. The only other thing that stood out in my memory of that diner was that a tall handsome man who looked to be about twenty-eight to thirty smiled at Janet as he walked by. I didn't think anything of it, since she received a lot of that kind of attention.

After a minute or two Janet excused herself to go the the lady's room, her meal made her fingers sticky and she wanted to wash up. We were going to stop at one of our favorite watering holes after dinner, but when I pulled up front to park, Janet said, "Tom, let me go in by myself and give me about fifteen or twenty minutes. I saw a nice little flower shop a few blocks back. Can you buy me a pretty rose before your come in? Thanks honey."

I knitted my brow a little at that request, but I reluctantly said okay, and came around to open her door. She gave me a smile and a kiss and entered the bar by herself. I was thinking that this was another iteration of our bar game. In our version of the bar game, Janet and I would arrive at a particular bar separately. She would always attract men at the bar, and some bought her drinks before I arrived. After I arrived, I would sit next to her; buy her a drink or two. I would chat her up, and try to discourage other suitors. We would end up leaving together, go home and fuck like minks. The glow might last for a few days afterward but after that, it became very hard just to get a kiss out of her.

I sat in the car, pushed the start button, smooth Jazz poured out of the speakers, and I sat there for a minute or two. I turned the car around from where I parked, and headed back to find the florist. I have no problem buying flowers for Janet, and have done it many, many times over our years together. I entered the shop and told the little blond gum-snapping clerk behind the counter that I wanted a very special red rose for a very special lady. She grumbled something about wishing some cute guy would do that for her, but came back with a very nice specimen. I smiled, paid her and said, "Thanks, hon." Back in the car, I really didn't know what to do. It was a little too early to go to the bar to join Janet, so I drove around for another ten minutes, until my curiosity got the best of me, and I drove back to the bar.

It has been some time since we played the silly bar game, so I was a little curious and a little frightened ... nervous. What was my dear wife up to? I walked into the bar and saw Janet sitting at the bar with a drink. She also had an empty drink glass in front of her, and there were a couple of empty glasses in front of the seat next to her. I gave her a full twenty minutes, and was actually more like a half an hour since I let her out and pulled away. I walked over, sat next to her, and motioned to the bartender for a beer on tap. Janet smiled and said, "Oh, hi Tom honey." She seemed a little nervous to me. Had she been talking to a stranger who was now gone? Did she meet someone here? I didn't know. After she cleared her throat and took another sip, she started the conversation.

"Um, Tom darling, you remember that we have talked often about a fantasy you have about me, um, with another man?"

"Um, yup, I guess, maybe," was all I said.

"Okay then, tell me your entire feelings about it now." Her dark eyes sparkled as she spoke.

"Well, I dunno, I think a lot of men have some sort of fantasy about their wives or girlfriends with another man. I think it is fairly common. But, fantasies are just that ... fantasies, something you use get yourself going, and not necessarily something you would want to happen in real life." I looked at her for a moment and continued, "I guess that with a certain set of circumstances, and precautions, it could be arousing. Is there any particular reason for your asking this after insisting that I give you some time alone?" Then I handed her the rose, "Oh, and by the way, this was the loveliest rose in the shop ... I looked at them all!"

"Thank you Tom, it is lovely," she said as she put the flower to her nose closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The sight of her breasts rising as she breathed in the aroma of my proffered rose was not lost on me as my body reacted to it. The bartender brought my beer and another drink for Janet, we both clinked glasses and took a drink.

It was my turn to clear my throat, as I tempted fate by asking, "So, Janet, what's up?" My eyes searched her face for some kind of clue, or a hint of what was to come. Then she put her drink down, put her hand over mine and said,

"You know dear, I have a fantasy too, and I was um, thinking that I would like to fulfill it ah, tonight ... if it is okay with you. Your fantasy is what got me thinking a little. Not seriously at first, but it grew into something I think that I want. Darling, I would like to um, be with another ah, man ... tonight." When she was through, she bit her lower lip nervously waiting for my response.

A lightning bolt striking me at that moment would have been gentler than what I felt when those five words hit me, "...be with with another man." Her statement just hung in the air, as my heart skipped a beat. All of the pain of her affair came flooding back. Here we were again; I was silently cursing my decision to marry such a beautiful and desirable woman. The only thing I could think of to say was, "You want to do this tonight? Is this someone you met here, or is it someone you had prearrangement with?"

"Prearrangement." This was all she said. She continued to look at me intently. Before I could think of what to say next, she continued, "Tom darling, you know that I love you, and we have a very lovely life together, but this is something I have thought about for a while, and I decided that I would act on it if the opportunity ever came up. Tonight at the restaurant, a very nice looking young man smiled at me as he was heading to the men's room. I waited for a minute, and as you know, I went to the ladies' to freshen up. I took a business card from my purse, scribbled the name of this bar on it, and asked the man to meet me after he saw us leave ... I handed it to him, and ran into the ladies' room. I washed my hands, and on a whim um, took my panties off. They are here in my purse."

She paused to try to gauge my reaction, darting her beautiful emerald eyes around my face before she continued. "He was here with me in the bar and I told him I only have twenty minutes, but that I would like to meet him later... somewhere. He is in town on business until tomorrow and I have his room number." She spit it all out quickly and waited again for some reaction from me.

After a few seconds I responded, "I really don't know what to say, Janet. Didn't we just about tear our marriage apart over your affair some time back? I am guessing that this is like a one-sided deal, you get to fuck another man, but I guess that I will not be fucking another woman will I?" I was trying to use a reasoned approach and not explode, since she is the woman I love. I was heartsick and didn't really know how to respond.

"No, Tom. This is for me, and I would be very hurt if you took any kind of retaliation with another woman. I wish you would not use that vulgar word for it. I want to do this—it is something I need, and I want you to go home. I might be late so there is no need to wait up. Tom I know I am asking a lot, but if you love me as much as you say you do, you will allow me this one thing. I am thinking that it might help um, us." Again, she waited for me to react to her declaration. I took mental note of the fact that this declaration used the word "I" quite a lot.

"I would feel funny about "delivering" you to another man so he can fu... ah, um, have you."

"I will call a cab, his hotel is not far, but I am not going to tell you which one it is, and I wish you would just go home, and not follow me. Tom honey, can you do just this one thing for me?"

Then she added, "Darling, if you really don't want me to do this, I won't. You are my husband, and I love you. But I am just asking for this one thing."

My reaction was immediate, "Then NO! I don't want you to do it! Can't we just have another drink and go home? Let me make love to my own wife!" I insisted, "I do not want you to do this, Janet! I can't really stop you, but I am asking you not to."

"Tom, I know that we had some problems before, but you have to remember that I have kept your house and cooked your meals for fifteen years, and have been faithful, um, the past five years. What I am saying Tom, is that I have to do this, and you have to let me. I have all of these feelings Tom, and I need to explore them. I am asking you to respect my privacy on this."

Without saying a further word, I reluctantly rose from the stool, and leaving Janet there, I headed back to the car. I suppose I could have grabbed her, and bodily thrown her cute little ass into the car, but that would have been pointless. She would just do it another time without telling me first. And, as I have said, my guess as to why she told me in this way was to legitimize her ability to do it again without resorting to sneaking around. For some reason, likely to make up for lost time, she wants to see other men and wants me to be complicit in it.

I sat there for a full minute before I punched the start button and drove about a block further down, pulled into a parking spot between two cars and waited. In another minute, Janet was waiting outside the bar for her cab. After two or three minutes, the cab came and she got in. Should I follow the cab or just go home? The cab turned around, and I slowly pulled out turned around and followed at a safe distance. I felt like some kind of creep... a stalker. I just had to know where she was going.

When the cab stopped in front of a rather posh hotel, I pulled over still about a block behind. She met a tall man in front of the hotel, put her arms around his neck, and rose up on tiptoes to kiss him. One foot lifted a little as she reached up. This man was indeed the guy I saw smiling at her in the restaurant. As they entered the hotel, there was nothing more for me to do, other than just to go home.

This brings us up to the present with me left trying to figure this thing out in my crappy little motel room. Why did she feel that she could just do this? She used all of the right buzzwords, "I love you," "darling," "if you love me you will," dot, dot, dot. Damn, I felt low! I was sorry I ever had a sexual fantasy, and sorrier that I shared it with Janet. It also occurred to me with my mind now racing, that my fantasy had nothing to do with it, this was her fantasy ... she even said as much.

She has seen other men looking at her and smiling or making kind remarks as they passed, and she has to have wondered what it would be like to "be with" one of them. Since I was alone in this cruddy room, I mentally erased the "be with," in the last sentence and replaced it with "fuck" one of them. Let's call it what it was, she wanted to fuck another guy, and perhaps make it an occasional thing. That's what I didn't know; was this just a one-off deal, or something she wants more regularly. She certainly was not going to clue me in.

"Screw this! I am not going to be there when she gets home!" That's what I decided when I got home. So here I am, making the most of the bottle of wine I brought with me. Still keyed up but so emotionally worn out, I fell asleep quickly. I didn't even set any kind of alarm, and turned off my phone. I vowed to talk to our corporate attorney on Monday morning for a referral to a good lawyer just in case it came to that. Next morning, I had a big breakfast at a local restaurant, with lots of coffee ... hot ... black!

Part Two: A Conversation with Brenda.

At the restaurant, I turned on my phone and sure enough, there were three messages from Janet. 'Where was I, am I coming home, can we just talk about it ... that kind of thing. I decided I would have to go home to talk about it with her. I was perfectly within my rights to just kick the bitch to the curb, call a divorce lawyer, and take her for everything she had. I belayed that feeling since I wanted to know why. When I arrived at the house, she had apparently just showered though it was late in the morning. She was dressed in a short yellow sundress and sandals. Unlike last night, she wore a bra and panties. She was a pretty sight.

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