Don't Ever Look Back Ch. 03

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Husband sets up wife to revisit old lover.
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Part 3 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/18/2022
Created 08/19/2009
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j267
j267
4,531 Followers

Don't Ever Look Back-Chapter III

Changes that occur between people in relationships usually occur over a long period of time. In my case, my entire world had changed in a just few short weeks destroying a perception that had been built since childhood. Worse still, I had instigated the events, somehow unable to let old situations remain distant memories.

I recalled our breakfast that morning and her acting in her normal upbeat way showing no sign of her indiscretions. It angered me to know that she could so cavalierly violate our vows and exhibit no guilt. In our entire time together, I had never touched Sarah in anger, but at that moment I knew that if she was before me, I could not keep myself from striking her.

As I sat there contemplating the new reality, spinning between anger and my own remorse for opening Pandora's Box, I wondered what life was going to be like going forward. Could I stay with her? Did she want to stay with me? Would Malcolm leave our world now that he had taken her again or was this a situation soon to be filled with drama? And what about our children? What would they think about their blessed mom if they knew the sordid truth?

That evening, I arrived home before Sarah and was sipping bourbon on the patio when she arrived all bright eyes and smiling. I couldn't help but consider that she was still basking in the afterglow of the thorough fucking she had received the previous night.

"Hi honey. I'm going to get a glass of wine. Do you want another drink?' she said with a smile.

"Sure, it's bourbon," I replied, inwardly seething while forcing myself to put on a good face.

She made the drinks and then came out to the patio having shed her shoes. Sitting opposite of me, she put her feet in my lap and gave me an impish grin.

"Let's eat out tonight. I heard the new French place on Holcombe is good," she suggested, and when I gave her a disinterested nod, she added, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired," I lied.

"Okay, what do you think? We can go early," she persisted.

"That's fine," I replied.

My wife talked and I listened while she drank her wine, and then she announced she was going to change and left. I sat brooding for a few more minutes, but the thought of her body bearing the marks of Malcolm's sex piqued my interest and I walked towards our bedroom hoping to find some evidence.

Our bedroom has "his and her" bathrooms with her large clothes closet within, and as I approached, I could see that the door was not completely closed. There was about a quarter-inch crack that provided a nice opportunity to spy if I was careful, so I opened the door to my bathroom quietly to provide an escape path if necessary, then inched quietly to her door and peered inside.

Sarah was sitting in front of her mirror in just a thong playing with her makeup, and as the video had suggested, her breasts were covered in hickeys from Malcolm's aggressive sucking. She didn't seem to be concerned about her state and I put it down to the fact that I had almost never entered her bathroom. In all our years of marriage, I had treated it almost like her sanctuary.

Soon, she stood and went into her closet before reappearing, now completely naked, and I had to catch my breath to stifle a gasp when I saw her pelvis. Sarah had adopted the fashion of shaving herself smooth, which allowed a good view of her pussy, and the delicate flesh, which had always looked like a teenager's even after two kids, was deeply red and swollen. There was no question that right before me was all the evidence I needed to prove her infidelity.

However, rather than confront her, I started to change my clothes deciding to put off the reckoning until I had thought the matter completely through. Finishing first, I was in the den having another drink when she appeared looking marvelous. It made me shudder as I wondered what my life would be like with her gone, and although Sarah noticed my odd look, she didn't probe.

I barely tasted my food and was a lousy conversationalist at dinner, which she picked up on quickly, but other than give me the occasional questioning look, she remained silent. In truth, most of my time was spent knocking back the better part of a good Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and Sarah, realizing how much I had to drink, drove us home. Back in our house, I opened a bottle of Cabernet and poured myself another big glass.

"Sweetheart, are you okay? You're barely talking and you're drinking a lot. Way more than normal. What's wrong?" she asked, still oblivious to the reason.

"Why don't you do a striptease for me?" I said to her as I flopped down in a big leather chair, and instantly I saw a flash of panic in her eyes, although she quickly recovered.

"I don't think you would be up to it tonight," she responded while forcing a smile.

"Come on darling strip for me. Turn on the jazz station," I said, now a bit more demanding.

"Not tonight honey. I'm not feeling that great. I think I got some bad food at the restaurant," she answered.

"Sarah, strip!" I commanded.

She looked at me with an odd expression and slowly a sense of knowing yet bewilderment swept through her. After a few moments, she tried to break the tension by simply walking away.

"You can either strip or I'll tear them off you," I said as she turned her back to me.

"What is going on with you?" she said with her voice rising.

It was completely out of character for me to treat her this way but my anger and the alcohol had combined to make me belligerent and I wasn't going to back down.

"I want to see you standing in front of me naked, so get those clothes off," I said sternly.

"I'm leaving. You've gone crazy and I don't want to be here," she exclaimed and went to pick up her purse.

"Sarah, if you want to remain married you better take off those clothes," I said to her with an air of calm and confidence that surprised me.

She looked straight into my eyes as tears began welling in hers, and her lips started to noticeably quiver. There was a long period of silence as we maintained a stare, and racing through my mind in those seconds were all the times we shared together, dating back to childhood, that now might be ending right before me. It felt as if my heart was being shredded by some unseen beast and suddenly my stomach began to churn.

"I can't," she finally answered, and it looked like her wet eyes were begging for sympathy.

"Take them off," I replied offering no alternative.

"How do you know," she asked.

As she spoke, her hand reached for the button of her blouse but it was shaking so hard that it took several attempts to release it.

"Get them off," I demanded again, ignoring her question.

Despite her infidelity, Sarah's humiliation was painful wo watch, but my feelings of betrayal were even stronger. Slowly, piece by piece, she shed her clothes. First was her blouse followed by her skirt and then her bra and thong were removed until she was completely nude. By then, her tears had caused her mascara to run down her cheeks and her body was heaving as she sobbed. Of course, I knew what I was going to see and she knew that her body told the story of her adultery.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered.

I sat there without speaking, in some ways I wanted to continue to humiliate her and have her feel the pain I was feeling, but deep inside she was still my baby, the love of my life, and the sight of her in distress finally got to me.

"Sit down," I said and she immediately lowered herself onto the sofa while attempting to shield her signs of her sin from my view.

"Now tell me about it," I said.

It took her almost an hour as her confession was interrupted by several breakdowns, but eventually the entire story was revealed. To her credit, she was honest and inclusive of the details going back to college thru the encounter on the previous day. That is, except for the pregnancy.

"Are you going to leave me?" she asked when it looked like she had run out of tears.

"Are you in love with him?" I responded, sincerely wanting to know.

"No, of course not. It was just a fling," she replied, and her points for honesty quickly vanished.

"Do you want to be married to me?" I asked, and even in my drunken and angered state I hoped that she would say yes.

"Yes! Yes, of course," she replied instantly, which caused me great relief despite her indiscretions.

"Then go to bed Sarah. We can finish the conversation tomorrow," I told her.

"Please come to bed with me. I need you next to me," she pleaded.

"No, I don't want to. I'll be up later," I said, and she was wise enough not to argue.

Sarah gathered her things and left, looking at me over her shoulder as she walked away. Despite her affair and the video, I was somehow feeling pretty good about things, as I wasn't at all sure where the conversation would end. So, I poured myself another drink, switched on the jazz station I liked and settled back in the leather chair. I was sipping the liquor when the radio started hissing and cracking in a familiar way. It was the sound it made when someone texted with their Blackberry, and I knew immediately that she was reaching out to Malcolm, which made my stomach sink.

As one would expect, the next few days were very tense. Sarah was quiet and mostly avoided eye contact. On the few occasions we did connect, I could see the pain and longing in her eyes and I knew she was hoping I would reach out. However, my psyche had been badly damaged and I refused to engage, deciding for the time being to be silent both with my words and body language.

Malcolm tried to call multiple times and at first, I ignored him, but I realized that if he told Sarah that we had been in contact, our marriage, or what was left of it, would be over. I had to take the call, although I knew it would be very difficult.

"Meet me at the bar at 5:30 PM," he said quickly and then hung up.

He was there when I walked in, and the waitress met me at the table. After ordering beers, he started.

"I hear you decided to cause a scene, asshole," he spat out angrily.

"I want you to just disappear from our life. Can't you just do that?" I pleaded.

"No, I fucking can't do that. I like that pussy too damn much. You're the one that got this all started and you better be thinking what the hell you are going to do if I tell her that," he said, informing me that he knew he held the power.

The look on my face told him all he needed to know and I sat there for several long seconds, searching for words, before he spoke again.

"You know you're fucked if she finds out. What do you think she'd do? Walk out on you maybe?" he said, now taunting me.

"What do you want? How does this end?" I finally said.

"I think I should get some more of her for a while. Till it gets old, which usually doesn't take too long for me," he said with a grating laugh.

We had to pause while the waitress set the bottles and I paid.

"This is a nightmare. I can't have you seeing Sarah. God, don't you realize how bad this is?" I tried again, now close to tears.

"You got no choice. I can fuck her or I can tell her what you did. Hell, I might still get to fuck her," he replied, making it clear there would be no sympathy.

"Well then, I'll just tell her the truth and take my chances," I said, standing and leaving as he smirked.

Driving home, I bounced between the relief that truth provides and the fear of her reaction to my moronic actions. Sarah was there when I arrived, and when I got close I could see she had been crying.

"I'm so sorry at what I've done. I'm so sorry. Tell me what to do to make things right? I'll do anything," she said, breaking down in tears as she spoke.

Now, I realized I couldn't say anything to explain it had all been my fault. The potential consequences were much too high, so I stood silently, trying to find some words, something to say, to deflate her emotions while I wracked my brain for a solution. Sarah took my silence as anger and judgment, which made her cry even harder.

"Sarah, we all make mistakes. I need some time to think it through. Calm down. Things will work out," I said, choosing my words as best I could.

Still crying, she embraced me and I pulled her head into my shoulder. All our lives, any pain she suffered seemed to transfer to me a hundred times fold and my knees actually got weak as we stood there. For hours that evening, I held her, and although she indicated she wanted to make love, I softly demurred.

The next day, Malcolm called wanting to know how the discussion had gone.

"So, I can call her now and she knows everything, right?" he stated, immediately starting on me.

"I haven't told her yet," I replied.

"Man, you're so fucked. If you don't tell her by the end of today, then I will, and I have the emails and texts as proof," he responded and started laughing hard.

"You can't do that now. It will ruin our marriage," I said, immediately realizing my words were pointless.

"Then fix the problem, asshole," he replied with a clear edge in his voice.

"By doing what?" I yelled into the phone.

"Whatever it takes. But, she better be fucking me by this weekend," he said, and then hung up.

After the call, I left work and went to the bar and spent the afternoon drinking and thinking. A hundred ideas came to me and all were quickly discarded. I knew I was checkmated and I knew that Malcolm realized it, too. When I left to go home, I had prepared myself for the hardest conversation I would probably ever have in my life.

Sarah had the table set with candles, trying to set a conciliatory mood, and I suspected that her nervousness was compelling her to act and do something positive. What she didn't realize, was that her efforts were only going to make my conversation even more difficult. I sat and picked up the glass of wine she had poured while she busied herself with the final dinner preparations.

"I broiled salmon. Hope that's okay," she called from the kitchen.

"Sounds great," I said with false enthusiasm.

We had insignificant chit-chat as she brought out the food and sat down. There was a definite tension in the air, which was made more acute by the subject I had to bring up. Several times, I started, only to get cold feet and stop, but finally with a drink of wine and a shudder I began.

"Sarah, I really would like to know about the guy. Why he was...appealing," I forced out.

Instantly, I could see she was unprepared for the direction of the conversation.

"What do you mean? I explained how I knew him," she answered, truly confused.

"I mean the sex. Was it different?" I asked, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.

There was a long pause, and I thought for a moment that she wasn't going to answer, but she finally spoke.

"It's different between a husband and wife...love...and caring," she responded.

"Meaning with him it's more passionate?" I asked, almost losing my temper.

"That's not what I said," she quickly replied.

"But you enjoyed it?" I pushed.

There was a long pause and her eyes looked down at her hands before she finally said, "Yes, I enjoyed it."

"And, if I wouldn't have found out, you would still be seeing him," I stated more than asked.

"I love you, not him," she answered after a short pause.

"That's not what I said," I shot back.

"Perhaps...I don't know," she answered, now getting flustered.

I let the conversation lapse for several minutes and Sarah was happy to let it drop, too. However, with any romantic mood now broken, we picked at our food silently. Finally, I summoned my courage to go the next step.

"I want you to keep seeing him," I said.

The look on Sarah's face was equal parts shock and confusion.

"I don't understand," she replied.

"I want you to keep him as a lover," I answered, wondering whether she would get angry.

"I don't want him, I want you," she answered.

"I'm not asking you to choose. You can have both," I explained.

"Why? Are you trying to set me up for a divorce? Please tell me you don't want that," she asked, starting to tear up.

"No...not at all. I want you to explore your sexuality I guess is what I mean," I said, trying to think of some rationale that would resonate, since I couldn't tell the truth.

My words were met by silence and it seemed like five minutes passed before she spoke.

"You don't love me anymore, do you?" she asked with very sad eyes.

"Of course, I love you. This is for you," I said, forcing myself to appear upbeat.

"No...I don't want that," she replied, and then quickly added, "That's very strange...odd...very odd."

"Do you have his number in your cell phone?" I asked, changing tactics.

"Yes," she answered, as her head tilted down again in shame.

"Give me your phone," I demanded, and she reluctantly handed it over.

I hit the entry for Malcolm and after three rings he answered.

"Hi baby, couldn't stay away?" he said, thinking it was my wife.

"Malcolm, this is Sarah's husband," I informed him and then went on to suggest he come over so we could all talk about the situation.

Malcolm immediately picked up on where I was going and agreed. When I hung up and looked at Sarah, I could see she was quite nervous, almost fearful, as I'm certain that never in her wildest dreams would she have expected this turn of events.

"Please don't start a fight," she said, unaware of the true nature of things.

"I promise I won't. I want us to talk about this though," I explained.

Twenty minutes later the door bell rang and standing there was Malcolm. With a wink, he extended his hand and we pretended to meet each other while Sarah stood several steps back. He stepped forward and kissed Sarah on the hand, and as we moved towards the living room, I asked him what he wanted to drink. Five minutes later, we were seated with Sarah and I drinking wine while Malcolm sipped bourbon. The black man and I were sitting in large leather chairs close to each other while Sarah had defensively selected a chair across the room.

"Well, I guess you might find it strange that I would request you to come over?" I said to break the ice.

"It is interesting," he replied, letting me keep the lead.

"What do you think of Sarah?" I asked.

"Beautiful lady, who is very special," he answered as he looked her way, and even in the dim light I could see my wife blush.

"What would you say if I told you I gave her permission to continue the relationship with you?" I asked.

"I would say you're a wise man who loves his wife dearly," he responded as a smile appeared on his face. After pausing for moment to let his words sink in, he asked with thinly veiled confidence, "What was her answer?"

Both of us turned to look at Sarah, who had become even more nervous. Her eyes repeatedly darted between us and the floor and her body fidgeted in the chair.

"I...don't know...I'm not sure," she stammered.

"Why, baby?" Malcolm asked in way that showed significant familiarity and made me cringe.

"It's too complicated...strange...too much," she answered after a brief hesitation.

"It won't be complicated. You can get together periodically. All I ask is that you meet in our home so I know it's safe and that you use protection," I informed them.

I could see Malcolm frown for a second when I described the rules but he said nothing, and all eyes moved to Sarah who continued to fidget.

"Listen to your husband," the black man counseled.

A long period of silence followed, and finally I said, "I'm going to my study to do some work."

As I stood to leave, glancing one way I could see Malcolm hiding a grin and in the other direction Sarah with a look of fear. I left the room, went to my study and sat staring at the blank computer screen trying to convince myself that I had no other choice. When you are intent on listening for something, silence can be unnerving. You don't know what meaning it might connote. My concentration was quickly broken when Sarah appeared in the doorway.

j267
j267
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