Share this picture
HTML
Forum
IM
Recommend this picture to your friends:
ImageFap usernames, separated by a comma:



Your name or username:
Your e-mail:
  • Enter Code:
  • Sending your request...

    T'nAflix network :
    ImageFap.com
    I Love DATA
    You are not signed in
    Home| Categories| Galleries| Videos| Random | Blogs| Members| Clubs| Forum| Upload | Live Sex




    What Comes Around, Comes Again

    One minute and thirteen seconds. That's how long it took to go from hero to zero. That's the length of time it took for my marriage to go from bliss to total shit. At least that's what the phone's screen said: 1:13.

    I looked up at my friends, Brad and Julie Carmody. Julie's look showed guilt, remorse, and pity. Brad's showed utter shock. They talk about people's mouths hanging open and his lower jaw was doing just that. While he struggled to say something - anything, I made a decision.

    "I've got to go," I said, turning away, suddenly embarrassed beyond words.

    "Oh no, you don't," Julie shouted to my back. "You're not going anywhere without us. We won't leave you alone right now."

    >>>>

    Brad and Julie had been good friends for the last two years. Brad, longer than that. I knew of Brad in high school. He played football for his high school as did I. Then we ended up at Central Michigan together but playing basketball instead, as walk-ons.

    I made it halfway through my sophomore year before running out of money. I discovered college wasn't for me anyway, so I dropped out and moved back to our small town. Then, I got a job at the Department of Public Works and decided to finish my associate degree at a local community college. Brad finished his two-year degree in almost three years. We stayed in touch after I left and he came to visit on holiday.

    Kristy worked as a cocktail server for a friend of mine. Friend because he owned a bar in a Detroit suburb and I spent a fair amount of money there. Jimmy owned the Burning Barn, a great little feel-good bar, with a stage and live entertainment five nights per week.

    Other than a lower tooth that was twisted a bit sideways, Kristy was a goddess in every way. And that smile only made the abnormality make her look even cuter. I called it a pouty smile and coupled with the cute little lines at the corners of her mouth, she was intoxicating. Despite her effect on me, I steered clear of her. I knew the owner, and all the other staff, and spent many of my nights sitting at the bar just bullshitting and getting to know them. Kristy was usually one of only two servers on duty and that's the way Jimmy liked it. Just enough service and slow enough to keep consumption levels down, reducing the chance of drunken skirmishes.

    I wasn't there to find love. I'd had that - sort of - in high school. Stacy and I went steady for our last three years before graduation. Smooching and holding hands were all we did together, and she told me as much from our first date, but I always thought we had something special.

    But after graduation, Stacy got a new car - a present from her parents - and a job for the summer before heading off to the University of Wisconsin. Both of us agreed to break things off so neither of us got hurt by the other but hopefully to remain friends.

    No, I was at the bar to hunt. I had my own fun in college, too. I knew eventually I'd meet a girl I wanted to settle down with. So, it was now or never to sow all those wild oats.

    There were plenty of oats. Occasionally, I'd home in on a pretty girl. Other times, I'd sit at the bar and wait for an unlucky girl to approach me. Plenty had 'struck out' during the evening and approached me. My success rate was over fifty percent so I guess I had a right to gloat.

    A year after I started hanging out there, I stopped for fuel at an all-night gas station after the bar closed. As I was finishing Kristy pulled in. We chatted for a few minutes. I suppose I chatted, to be honest, because she was busy flirting. With the cold fall temperatures, we decided to pull over by the air and water and I jumped in her car. We talked for a short time then she seemed antsy.

    "Why don't you ever come on to me?" she asked, straightforwardly.

    "Well," I scrambled, "I guess it's because you work for Jimmy and I'm not there to cause problems."

    Okay," she said, dragging the word out as if unsure about my response. "How about you take me to dinner on Friday night? Jimmy doesn't own my free time and I promise I don't bite."

    There was that damned smile. I probably would have canceled a vacation to take her out. Sitting so close to her, even in the early morning darkness, I saw plenty of good reasons to ask her out.

    Kristy was more petite than I'd realized. She was probably five-two and one hundred pounds dripping wet. She was well-proportioned too. Tiny little suck-able boobies, a perfect ass, a diamond-melting smile, and a snappy wit that was making me hard.             

    After dinner that first Friday, Kristy wanted to 'go somewhere.' She didn't mince words, although she didn't exactly say 'let's go fuck.' We went to my apartment and her clothes were off seconds after I closed the door. The thing was, I'd had my back to her, so when I turned around, I was shocked to see her standing there with a half-shy, half-evil grin.

    "Come to Mama," she said seductively. I wasn't so sure. The entire event was happening way too fast for me. But I wasn't some prude and I was certainly aroused by her flawless body. I knew she was seven or eight years older as well, however, something about that comment didn't sit well.

    No matter. I came into her embrace and, as I went to kiss her, I saw indecision in her eyes. She recovered quickly though and we went at it hard.

    Hard may be the wrong word. After the rough kissing and her desperately undoing my pants and zipper, I found myself less than up to the task. Everything about Kristy was way too aggressive.

    "What's wrong?" she asked incredulously as if her ministrations should guarantee an erection in all men.

    "I don't know," I stalled. "Maybe we can just take it a little slower."

    "You don't like me?" she asked, again with attitude. "Or are you intimidated?"

    "Maybe the latter," I said, shyly.

    "Oh." She said it so matter-of-factly, that I couldn't get a good read on what she was thinking. "Well, then, let's make out some more. I'm just horny as fuck."

    That did the trick but the way we started was so - strange - I had trouble throughout the sex trying to square it all. I felt as though one little guy would appear on each of my shoulders any minute and start giving opposing advice.

    Kristy had three orgasms before I finally had my first. She immediately went about the task of resurrecting me with her mouth. It took a while. Again, Kristy seemed put off but didn't say anything as she continued to blow me.

    Our second sexual encounter happened four days later with the same aggression on her part and the same results for me. It became so awkward that Kristy started getting dressed and asked me to take her home. The drive was even more uncomfortable.

    At the bar, the next three times I was there, instead of seeking me out, she did her best to avoid me. Finally, I cornered her coming out of the restroom.

    "What the hell, Kristy?" I questioned her. "What did I do to make you treat me like shit?"

    "Me?" she answered sanctimoniously. "I didn't think you liked me." She looked at my crotch instead of my eyes. "I can tell when I'm not wanted."

    "Jesus," I looked at her like she was nuts. "It has nothing to do with that. I wanted to get to know you, not all the superficial shit we talk about at dinner, maybe ease into it, you know? Not this wam-bam-thank-you-mam thing. I feel like you're in some kind of hurry is all. Like I'm on the clock."

    Kristy's look softened considerably but she looked guilty. She looked everywhere but at me, obviously trying to figure out what to say next.

    "Yeah," she told me apologetically. "About that. Listen, I like you. You're handsome and funny. You know, a good sense of humor. You make me hot. The truth is, I have a little one at home. My son is two and my roommate watches him while I'm at work or out. So, we're both on the clock, as you put it."

    The third time was a charm, but it almost didn't happen after our chat that night. I wasn't looking to become a stepdad and I was already leery of her. We took our time, did it right, and the sex was spectacular. After that, she started calling me, not just waiting for me to show up at her workplace.

    Kristy and I went out three more times before the end of the month but, on my birthday, we went to a nice restaurant. When we got into my car after our meal, she looked at me with puppy-dog eyes and asked, "Can we go to the bar and dance for a while, before we go to your place?"

    "Why do you want to do that?" I asked, surprised. "You're there five nights a week."

    "I know," she said looking down. "But the Diversions are playing tonight. I love their music. You know I'm not allowed to dance while I'm working my shift. Just for a while, please?" It was all too weird. Not her question but the way she got into character. The aggressiveness turned to passivity with the snap of a finger. It didn't take much for me to capitulate, though.

    We found a table, fortunately. It was only nine and since we'd gone to an early dinner, there were still a few tables open. The place was filling up fast. We ordered a drink and Kristy's co-worker ribbed her about not being able to stay away. A few minutes later, Kristy and I were on the dance floor. I knew the band well since they played at the Burning Barn about once every ninety days. They were good, too. The lead singer was a short dude with a shaggy haircut. He looked like an all-American boy, except for his creepy little mustache.

    I got a bit antsy as he kept staring at Kristy. He was singing his ass off, the band killing it, on a fast rock song, and still, he never lost sight of her on the floor. She'd look at him, too, until it seemed to dawn on her she was dancing with me.

    We danced to about six songs in a row, and I'd been hoping for a slow one when the band announced a fifteen-minute break. Kristy and I went back to our table, mostly to ensure we still had one, and then I went to the restroom. I'd been holding it for about three songs by then. When I returned, Kristy was nowhere to be seen. I sat down and Kristy's co-worker came walking by, stopping to ask if we were ready for another drink. I was overheated and ordered a beer and a glass of water, then told her to bring Kristy another of whatever was in her glass.

    When she returned about five minutes later, Kristy was still nowhere to be found. I asked if the server had seen her and her nervous response was very out of place.

    "Ah... I think I seen her go to the ladies." Janey and I knew each other, as did every other employee there. We weren't all that friendly but I knew her well enough to ascertain she was covering something up.

    "Oh, maybe she doesn't feel well," I opined, trying to make myself look clueless. "You know, too much desert on top of the alcohol."

    She was out of there like a shot. I got up, tipped my chair against the table with the back facing in, and started a methodical search of the bar. Had we not been seated near the back room, just off one end of the long bar, I probably would have started in the other direction. Instead, I peeked around the door and saw nothing. I was about to carry on when I heard Mr. Lead-singer's voice.

    "Fuck, baby," he said exhaustingly. "That was the shit!"

    I leaned back in, then took a few steps into the well-lit room. Kristy was on her knees in front of Davey Wick, the voice of the Diversions. He was zipping up his shiny leather pants.

    "Say, babe," he smiled and used his index finger to wipe her chin, flicking that same finger off to the side. "Why not tell lover boy you aren't feeling well, and meet me back here after last call? I've got just what you need."

    She looked tentative as she stood up but didn't answer.

    "Yeah," he continued. "Go give him a nice sloppy kiss and tell him to take you home. I'll meet you back here in say, two hours."

    "No," she quickly responded. "I can't come back. You know, my son."

    "Oh well," He didn't seem all that disappointed. "Thanks for the birthday present. That was the best one yet."

    He turned to head out the same door I stood in, and I was frozen in place.

    "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed.

    Kristy turned to see me. She looked... disheartened, maybe downcast, but not scared, worried, or frantic, as I'd expected.

    "Fuck off and die, Kristy," I said as loud as I could when I turned and walked back out into the bar. I'm sure a few people even heard me over the blaring prerecorded mix of rock music.

    I was moving quickly when I heard Davey. "Yahoo! Kristy's on the market again!" I turned on a dime, intent to smash his face, but that quick little fucker was already out the same door and moving through the crowd toward the stage. The owner was a sharp son-of-a-bitch. He had to be, owning a fairly rowdy bar with no bouncers except on the weekends. He made his way across to intercept me as I was heading for the door.

    "What's going on?" he asked, but I think he knew.

    "Gotta go," was all I said, trying to get around his huge frame.

    "Relax, Joey," he said, putting a calm friendly hand on my shoulder. "Don't go off half-cocked like this."

    "Don't worry about it," I said, looking up at him. "I've only had one drink." He was looking over my shoulder at something or someone. I turned to see Kristy had stopped dead in her tracks about ten feet behind me. The band had started again and there was no way I was going to have a conversation with Jimmy just then.

    Angie, a girl I'd gone to school with, happened to be walking by. It was an opportune moment.

    "Hey, Ang," I said quickly, reaching gently for her elbow. "Wanna dance?" She looked surprised but let me lead her out onto the floor. As I calmed myself, Angie and I danced a fast song, and then the fucking band finally played a slow song - probably on purpose. Angie was a bit drunk and snuggled into me. I let her and I also took a few liberties with my hands. It was my sincere hope she wasn't here with a date, or god forbid, a boyfriend.

    After the song ended, I gave her a sweet but meaningless kiss and we left the dance floor. Kristy, an expert at moving through a crowded room, was upon me before I could get anywhere near the door.

    "I'm sorry," she said reaching for me. I pulled my arm back.

    "Don't you fucking touch me, bitch." I snarled.

    "Joey, I said I'm sorry," she tried again. "You shouldn't have seen that."

    I laughed manically in her face. "Oh, really? So, you're sorry you got caught, not that you were blowing that bastard while you're here with me. What the actual fuck, Kristy?"

    At least her face reddened a little. "It's his birthday too," she said it as though it was perfectly normal. "And I've known him a lot longer than you."

    "Oh, well that explains it," I told her sarcastically. "Silly me."

    She gave me a dirty look, the crazy bitch. I couldn't help myself.

    "Now that we've cleared that up," I continued raving at her. "I'm going home. If you'd have told me how much tighter the two of you were, I would have found something else to do on MY birthday and you could have made a night of it with him."

    "I could have..." she started and stopped. "Yes, I get it, you're upset. Please don't be mad at me. I didn't want to be with him. I want to be with you. I'd promised him a... well, you know. But I want to be with you. Please take me back to your apartment, so I can show you."

    "No," I said with urgency. "You tell me you want to go dancing, so what? You can fulfill your little promise to him? Then you do it right in the back room where any of the people who work here can see you? You might work here but these people are my friends. Were my friends, I guess. I'll never be able to show my face in this place again, you fucking slut."

    I don't know why women who act in a manner becoming a slut always look like they've been slapped when someone calls them out, but she did.

    "What did you just say?" she asked indignantly.

    "I guess it's true what they say," I glared and spat my words, getting right in her face. "A slut's hearing is the first thing to go."

    Kristy made to slap me but I'd already shown her my back. I walked out and got in my car. She didn't follow. I stayed away from the bar for four days. Kristy left a few messages on my machine, saying the same shit. She was sorry. Couldn't she make it up to me? Delusional bitch, she was.

    Four days after the blowjob, I answered my door to find a man I'd never met. He was well-dressed in a suit. He looked gravely serious.

    "Yes," I said, "can I help you?"

    He just stood there sizing me up for a long moment. "Yeah, you little twat," he answered calmly but with a certain venom. "You're fucking my wife, and that needs to stop."

    I was too shocked to say anything initially. He was waiting for me. "I don't know what you're talking about. Who in the hell are you?"

    He pulled a photo from his lapel pocket with his left hand, while simultaneously pulling back his jacket with his right, revealing a holstered pistol.

    "My name is Raymond Crane," he said. "My wife is Kristy, and you need to back off, or I'll make you." He put his right hand on the gun. "I could kill you right here," he declared. "I'd have a darn good chance of beating it too since I'm a deputy district attorney."

    He seemed to want to let that sink in. "Kristine has a... condition. You're contributing to the problem, you fuck. Stay away so her father and I can get her help. Don't call her. Don't answer her calls, don't talk to her at her job."

    His demeanor was growing angrier by the second. I thought he might explode and shoot me anyway. He shook me back to reality.

    "Nod your fucking head if you understand me, you little fucking prick."

    I nodded. He turned without a word and walked away. When he was in his expensive car, I closed the door and plopped down in my recliner. I'd just avoided a missile, and I'd heed his warning.

    Kristy came up to me a week later at the bar and I asked her to send over another waitress.

    "I know Ray came to see you," she said, ignoring my request. "He's lying you know? We were married, but now we're estranged. We have a son together. He's controlling, and abusive to me. Don't pay any attention to him."

    "Kristy," I replied. "Even if he isn't, we're done. Your disrespect with that pissant singer was enough."

    "Oh, I see," she started to rant, her emotions flipping in an instant, "your little male ego can't accept that I have other men in my life. Well, fine. You're just a little boy."

    There was no need to answer, although there was plenty I wanted to say. Besides, I believed her husband. She was quite a twisted little bitch. I found a new bar to frequent.

    After that, I reconnected with Brad on social media. We immediately set up some activities we both enjoyed. He set up a standing racquetball court time on Saturdays and we went to the bar across the street afterward to have a few beers and watch college football. I set up a camping and fly fishing trip, which was the most fun I'd had in quite some time.

    Brad knew my story about Kristy. He became familiar enough to get in a great many digs and I got to the point where I could even laugh at them. My newfound love of country and rhythm and blues brought a ration of ribbing. I'd lost my love for rock and especially cover bands. I also rarely dated, preferring to fill my time with more important activities.

    But then he met Julie. Not long after, I met Katherine. She was Kat to everyone, so that's what I called her too. She hit me hard, from the first time I saw her. Her striking beauty was the first to gain my attention in a good while. The little club Julie and Brad had dragged me to was offering a Jack Johnson-type performer who was actually very good. It was my turn to buy a round from the bar because the place was packed and the servers were too busy. As I turned around carrying the three drinks, I ran into her, spilling beer and whiskey on her blouse. She shrieked from the chill and then just stared at me.

    "I'm so sorry," I yelled over the music. "Your top is all wet. I'll... I'll pay to have it cleaned."

    Something about me must have appealed to her because her anger subsided in an instant.

    "You bet your ass you will," she replied smartly. "You're just lucky I drove my friends here and have another top in the car. Where are you sitting because when I get back, you owe me a drink?"

    I bought her that drink, too. I couldn't focus on the tunes after that because I could see her where she sat with her girlfriends.

    "Go talk to her," Julie said in my ear with a light jab in the ribs. "She already let you buy her a drink and she seemed pretty understanding of your accident."

    I felt obligated. No, that's not even close to accurate. Kat was... intoxicating. I couldn't stop watching her - couldn't take my eyes off her - ever since I ran into her forty minutes previous. Kat introduced her friends and with me stammering and stuttering, she quickly went back to chatting with her friends. A slow song started, and I inserted myself for the second time in as many minutes.

    "Would you care to dance?" I grumbled trying to deepen my voice. I think she felt annoyed at first, but then she studied my face, and she smiled. Her friends giggled.

    The dance was pretty awkward, I'll admit. I was failing miserably and knew it. But I rallied. I slowed way down to the point we were simply turning in tiny circles and started asking her questions about her life.

    After we started talking, we found a quiet booth opposite the bar and things turned for the better. Kat was smart, a bit sassy, and she seemed to have the world by the horns. I was so smitten I could have listened to her all night without saying a word about myself. I got her number and left a very happy man. Julie and Brad teased me all the way home.

    The next few months were a whirlwind. I had the feeling almost from the start that Kat and I were going to be together for a very long time and, I hoped, forever. The best things about her were also the things that enthralled me. Even when she was moody or snitty, I giggled to myself. The funniest thing about that was, it usually brought her out of that mood.

    Kat had a marketing degree from Western Michigan. She had a good-paying and rewarding job with a mid-sized marketing and ad agency that she enjoyed. She lived closer to Detroit while I still lived out in the Boonies. My job with the city had already earned me a promotion and raise.

    That wasn't to say that we were without our differences. As business-like as Kat was at work, she was a free bird in her personal life. I couldn't say she was self-centered because I never saw any malicious intent. Most often she took my thoughts and feelings into account.

    She liked fine art and she knew quite a bit about it, too. My artistic style was for the sole purpose of wall coverings. Kat bought me all kinds of portraits and sculptures to 'spruce up' my apartment. Kat liked cats - I know, ironic - and I liked dogs. She told me she wanted exactly two children, two years apart. I was hoping for three or four. Her diet and workout programs were far different from mine.

    And there were a few things where we disagreed by a good margin. I thought we should have a joint account after we were married. And yes, I did propose at the ten-month mark. Kat accepted. She wanted separate checking accounts. We compromised that we would have two different joint accounts, one for household bills and another for a vacation fund.

    The biggest, yet least concerning was her love of rock music. That wasn't to say her choice of music was narrow-minded. She liked classic rock, some metal, and even a few techno-rock bands. Her favorite group was the Green River Band. They were a local Midwestern group who had finally found national fame with two big hits a year ago. Whenever she talked about what they'd overcome in their climb to the top, I reminded her of Bob Seger, Ted Nugent, and even Eminem. That one always ended in a stalemate.

    She knew my Kristy story and often would press me about boycotting rock 'n roll just because of one incident. My response was always the same - I didn't know why, and I was open to the idea that my brain would separate the two things eventually.

    We were married for two years and life was great. I couldn't imagine it being any better, honestly. We hung out with Brad and Julie several times per week. Julie and Kat became tight and they were always planning something, including fishing trips for us guys. I came home one day to a very happy wife. She was all giddy when she showed me the tickets. Her marketing firm had been hired by the manager of the Green River Band and, in return, she was able to score four tickets. Not just any tickets but rather backstage tickets for the entire concert.

    "Why would we want to stand right next to a huge amp and stare at the band's backs while they perform?" She looked at me like I was nuts.

    "Because," she said thoughtfully, probably trying not to lose her temper. "We'll actually be right there on stage with them. Oh my God! This is so exciting! I can barely stand it!"

    She was overjoyed, no doubt about it. I hinted over the next week about maybe not going. She insisted. It took her three days to remove her rose-colored glasses and to begin to understand I was dead serious about not wanting to go.

    "Why?" she'd respond to my question with one of her own. "Because you're my husband and you love me enough to go along." She implied, 'If you love me enough.'

    So, I finally gave in, or gave up, whichever. Brad and Julie were just as excited as Kat was. We arrived for the concert a little early. Okay, it was a lot early. Kat was hoping to see some of the band members and possibly get an autograph. We were guaranteed that but on a signed glossy, that everyone else was getting. The concert was at Ford Field and we were directed to a separate parking lot due to the backstage passes.

    Kat was in her element, dancing like crazy with Julie just off stage. The girls tried to share the excitement with Brad and I, getting us to dance with them. When the band played their final two songs, the new format of encore that most bands were following, Kat went wild over their hit song, "Pocket Rocket."

    Tad Springer was the band's lead singer. I never cared much for him or the band's music, even preceding my event with Kristy. That wasn't true - I loathed him. He was every ego-driven hot mess that was wrong with Rock and Roll. Tad was an arrogant fuck, in my eyes, and the ridiculous tattoo adorning the entire left side of his face pretty much proved it. And then there was that stupid red cape. Springer dressed like some Halloween-twisted version combo of Rod Stewart and David Bowie.

    Shortly into their song, he looked over, right at our group of about twenty backstage spectators, and smiled seeing my wife and Julie going at it. He motioned with his head at one of the stagehands and a guy wearing a headset and carrying a clipboard came over right away. He said something into the ears of both Julie and Kat and they almost jumped out of their skin.

    Without even a look at me, Kat followed the man right out onto the stage. At least Julie gave Brad a glance over her shoulder as she followed Kat. Tad danced with the women, letting them do most of the work. When the song ended, the crowd went wild.

    For the last song, the band had selected another big hit - a ballad - "You Were the Soul of Me." He serenaded our women, even running the back of his hand softly down Kat's cheek. My wife looked like she was in a trance and that's when I first got the bad feeling.

    The song ended with a big blinding light show erupting on the final chord. Our wives were whisked off stage. The other side of the stage! I looked at Brad. He had the same uneasy look spread across his face as I knew I did. Applause went on and on. The band exited in the same direction Kat and Julie had. And then the house lights came up. We'd all been behind a little stanchion. I imagined it was there to keep us out of view of the multiple cameras that were recording the event. I stepped forward and one of the security guys noticed me.

    "Hey, you can't go out there," he commanded. "One of the concierges will escort you back the way you came in."

    "My wife was out there," I told him. "She and my friend's wife were led off that way." I pointed across the stage. "Where are we supposed to go to wait for them?"

    The look of pity we both received only fueled my anxiety. "There's a stage exit door, over there," he pointed across the arena on the opposite side of the stage, near what looked like the tunnel our football team used during halftime.

    Brad and I made our way around the concourse, fighting the flow of the crowd, like a fish struggling upstream. By the time we were on what we thought was the other side of the stadium, most of the people had exited. I kept stepping into an aisleway to get a reference point. After several failed attempts, we finally ran into a security worker who led us through an aisle, down some stairs toward the field, and past a gate that we'd never have known was there had it not been for his direction.

    Half an hour after our wives were whisked offstage, we were in a concrete tunnel, waiting for them and wondering if in the confusion we'd missed them. Neither woman answered her phone, so Brad and I did the only logical thing we could - we stayed right there. We watched the locked double-door exit with uneasiness and suspense. Several people came through those doors, mostly women, and when we asked, they did confirm they had been part of a band entourage or a photo op.

    Finally, and another forty-five minutes later, the door swung open again, and this time Julie emerged. Brad seemed both extremely angry and relieved all at once. His feelings were probably what kept him rooted to the place where he was standing instead of moving to embrace his wife. She was the one who initiated that contact.

    "Where's Kat?" There was no emotion in my voice. I was too worn out to be emotional. That would come later. Brad looked at Julie, and Julie looked at me. Her expression told me too much without providing any details.

    "She's... gone." The pause between those two simple words caused a lump in her throat that almost made her expel a demon or swallow it back down. I thought she might vomit right there.

    "She left you a message," Julie said, reaching into her small clutch for a phone - Kat's phone, and handing it to me.

    Brad suddenly found his voice. "What do you mean, she's gone?" he asked incredulously. "She was with you."

    Julie's face now showed fear. She already knew she'd have to explain this to me and Brad. She was much more concerned about how to say it to her husband.

    "I tried," she said to Brad. Then turning to me, "I did."

    By that time, I'd opened my wife's phone. "What am I supposed to be looking for?" I asked her with urgency. There might have been time to stop whatever was going on.

    Julie told me to look at the last video in her camera roll. I found it and tapped 'play.'

    "I'm making this video," she began, "because I don't have time to tell you face-to-face. Sorry, that's only partially true. I'm afraid to do it that way."

    She paused but regained her determined look. "I was asked by the band - by Tad - to go along on the rest of the Midwest tour. It's four more shows. Joey, I have to do this! I want to do this. I'll never have another chance like this one. It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

    "I know how it makes me look. I know we're married and what damage our marriage might suffer. I think I know what you'll be thinking while I'm gone, too. We both know what being a 'groupie' means, and all that goes along with it. Please, don't focus on that. I can't explain all that now but I'll be home in two weeks, give or take a day, and I'll explain it all to you then, I promise. I've given Julie my rings because I love you and I want you to put them back on my finger when I return. I also promise right now, I'll never do anything like this again. I love you. I know you're watching and wondering if that's a lie but it isn't. I'll be prepared to prove it to you."

    Someone knocked on a door, presumably to the small closet-like room she was in, and she said louder, "I'll be right there!"

    She turned back to the camera. "I love you, Joey. Please don't worry, everything will be all right. I'll see you in a few weeks."

    The video stopped. I looked at the screen in total shock. The time stamp said 1:13. One minute and thirteen seconds to destroy everything I thought we had.

    >>>>

    Brad and Julie got me home safe and sound as promised. During a few beers, they kept at it nonstop about Kat and the concert but that wasn't helpful.

    "Can we change the subject, please?" I sourly asked. They tried and so did I, but it only led to silence. The concert and the unbelievable gall of my wife were all we could think about. After that, I told them they could go home and I was going to bed since the next day was a workday.

    It was a good thing, too. I needed the distraction and it was a busy day. That night at nearly six, my sister came walking into my apartment. I'd talked to her at lunch and explained what had transpired. Elaina was my big sister and a guiding force in my life. I knew she'd provide perspective and give me plenty to think about. What was unexpected was Stacy, my high school girlfriend, following her into my home. Elaina had become friends with Stacy in high school, when we went out, and they'd remained friends after college. They'd picked up a few gourmet sandwiches from a little shop we often frequented.

    "What do you think you want to do?" Elaina asked after I laid out the details of the previous night and showed them her video.

    "I honestly don't know," I shrugged. "If I had to make a decision right this minute, it would be divorce."

    Elaina and Stacy both nodded slowly. The looks on their faces showed that they agreed with me. But then Elaina surprised me.

    "Well, let's break things down," she said like a mother might. "Maybe let's start with Kat not planning it beforehand."

    "Hold up," I interrupted. "I don't know that for sure. She plans everything. She's a planner. She got the tickets through work and while that's legit on the surface, I don't know that she didn't plan to go backstage."

    "Yeah," she thought it through. "But neither she nor Julie had any idea that Tad Springer was going to drag them onstage."

    I had to agree. Then I thought of what likely came after. "My bigger issue is that she could have said no. Instead, she jumped at the chance, forgetting her marriage in the process."

    "I don't know about that either, Joey," she said hesitantly. "She was thinking about you and the marriage in the video she made, clearly trying to minimize the damage, but still cognizant."

    I thought about how to rebut that and Stacy filled the silence finally saying something.

    "If she thought she could salve your hurt feelings," she paused, "Though, by telling you before the fact, well, maybe..." She trailed off.

    There was a longer silence, as we all contemplated. Finally, I spoke up. "Yeah, regardless," I began. "She left. She's off on her great adventure, which surely includes fucking that slimy bastard, Tad Springer repeatedly over a two-week period. I don't see any way of getting over that."

    Elaina got up and fixed us all a drink. I guess they'd stopped at the liquor store too. She set my whiskey and coke in front of me and asked, "This isn't a dig but can you tell me what goes through a guy's head regarding infidelity? I mean the act of it as it goes through your mind. Is the woman who's supposed to belong to you sullied or dirty somehow?"

    "In a way," I said with ease. "I suppose my imagination works much the same as any other guy, or woman for that matter. Then there's the whole anatomy thing and the fact that he's going to be ejaculating into her. But for me, it's more about breaking her vows. She made a promise when we married."

    I felt unsettled having the conversation in front of my ex. I guessed she reciprocated because she blushed.

    "What if they use condoms?" my sister asked.

    "Doesn't matter," I replied immediately followed by a huge sigh. "Can we talk about something else?"

    "Okay," Elaina said. "Her having sex with some other man is a deal-breaker for you. That's established."

    Stacy seemed anxious to speak. "But it isn't just some other guy, it's Tad fucking Springer, right?"

    "Again, doesn't matter," I said. "Some random guy or Springer. In fact, it might be worse."

    "Because he's a celebrity?" Stacy was fishing. "I mean, like she said, 'opportunity of a lifetime.'"

    "Not for me," I responded. "Let's say he's very good, you know, at sex. And that's likely considering what type of celebrity he is. How could any husband compete with her memories? I don't cherish the idea of spending the rest of my life having sex with only one person who is almost always thinking about what she did with that asshole."

    That made Stacy grimace. I think the male perspective gave her plenty to think about.

    "That goes to one other thing," Elaina jumped in. "What about getting even? Would it help you to move on if you could have sex with someone else?" For a moment, I thought my sister was offering up Stacy.

    "Not at all," I said emphatically. "Two wrongs don't make a right."

    The conversation shifted to what I was planning to do while she was gone, how I was going to keep myself sane, and what I might need from both of them. I saw Stacy lean forward in her chair intently awaiting my answer.

    The following night, Stacy returned without my sister. We had pizza and reminisced about better times. Stacy told me all about her college experience. I told her how sports had dried up and my decision to leave the university. We talked about our jobs and what we liked about them. When we were talked out and almost nodding off, we called it a night.

    "Stacy," I proffered, "If you're as tired as you look, I have a spare room." She looked at me, sizing me up.

    "No," she said. "I'm fine. I'll just roll the window down." She smirked at me, seemingly proud to have been able to keep herself at bay.

    "Can I come over tomorrow night?" she asked as she gathered her purse. "Or maybe, we can go to the movies?"

    We ended up going to the movies. The next night was Friday and I took her to the Italian restaurant where we'd had our first date. After, we strolled hand-in-hand along the river walk. As I dropped her off at home, I leaned in for a kiss and she didn't stop me.

    Sunday was the first day I saw no one. Brad and Julie did call just to check on me but we ended up talking about the day's football schedule and the surprise winners, as well as how our fantasy players did. Julie told me she was happy that I wasn't sulking in my alcohol.

    Stacy and I resumed our get-togethers on Tuesday and every other day that week. We rekindled much of what we'd left dormant when we'd split. I didn't see Elaina, although she also called to check on me a few times. I expected that Stacy would tell her what we were up to.

    Two days before Kat was scheduled to come home, or at least what she'd said in that damned video, I got a call from Julie. Kat had called her, telling her to let me know she was going to Boston for one last show and that Tad was covering the cost of her plane ticket home. She said she'd get an Uber from the airport. What's more, that one additional concert would have Kat on the road for another six days.

    I could feel Julie cringe over the phone as she tried to relay Kat's ridiculous declarations. She wanted Julie to tell me she loved me and she couldn't wait to see me. For me, any tiny thought of staying with Kat ended with that call. She didn't even have the spine to call me.

    Brad and Julie seemed so embarrassed by the entire ordeal, they distanced themselves from me right after that call. I knew I hadn't lost them as friends for the long haul, just until Kat and I made decisions about our future. Stacy picked up the slack.

    Stacy and I sat in my living room two nights after that call, watching a romance movie. After I scooted closer to her, she became nervous. I never got to make my move.

    "Joey," she said sweetly. "I know. I know and believe me; I feel it too. My feelings for you have grown exponentially in the past few weeks - exponentially. Still, I'm not going to be the person that helps you cheat. Maybe you wouldn't even consider it cheating the way things have turned out but I can't do it. I'm falling for you all over again and I want us to be together after all the dust has settled. Can you understand that?"

    I pulled her to me and placed her head against my chest. "I do understand," I told her sincerely. "I think I want the same thing. Some days lately I wish I'd never gone to college. I shouldn't have left you."

    I felt her breathe deeply and I heard a sniffle. We stayed that way, lost in our thoughts for some time. "Can I still see you, when she comes back?" My tone was... desperate.

    "We can see each other as friends," she sighed. "I'm hoping it leads to something more... relevant. Have you made any decisions regarding your relationship with Kat?" It was her turn to sound desperate then.

    "I'm finished with her," I said determinedly. "But divorces in this state take at least six months. That's if she doesn't fight it."

    We held each other for a long time that night. I think we were both hanging on for dear life. I'm sure Stacy was thinking just like me - we were cheating right then, even without any sex. I tried to square it with what my wife had done to me. How Stacy went about sorting it, I never asked. The next two days and nights, neither Stacy nor I contacted each other.

    The next morning, I started calling attorneys. The one I ended up taking an appointment with was someone who'd been recommended by a co-worker, as a shark. After the initial telling of my story, I asked if we could serve her in Boston.

    "That can be done," he said with a grin. "It will cost a bit extra but we sure can. We might be able to get a little something from Tad specifically, or his band. He did extend an offer of infidelity to a known married woman. There's a chance it never goes anywhere but..."

    "Nah," I interrupted. "He's gonna have lawyers who know their way around it. He knows that, too, or he wouldn't be so brazen about doing it. Just serve her... and, oh, I want to include this with the papers."

    I slid my wedding ring off and handed it to the man. He accepted it with glee.

    Stacy was pleased that I'd seen an attorney and started the process. There was a hint of something there that I couldn't make sense of.

    "Okay, Stacy," I said. "Spill it."

    She thought for a long minute. "I don't know," she started, then stammered. "I like you Joey and you already know that. I think it's much more than like and I feel that from you, too. But I don't want to start or rekindle our relationship with Kat and what she's done to you looming over us."

    "What are you saying?" I asked, annoyed.

    "Don't get upset with me, please," she replied. "These scars you have... left by those two - bitches. I want you to be well over them and healed before we get too serious. I'll do my part in the healing and show you - prove - that you can trust me, but I think you will need to talk to Kat and try to figure out why she did it. You won't be able to get your self-respect back and feel self-assured in your future decisions if you don't."

    She quickly changed the subject, seeing my angst. Arguing wasn't her goal. Later that night in bed, I tried to push her words into the back of my mind but I couldn't escape them. She was right.

    Kristy was different, I told myself. I hadn't fallen for her, become attached yet. But the more soul-searching I did, the more I realized only the timing of things had saved me. A few more months and who knows? It may have been much worse. Kat was far more difficult to explain away. I knew she was strong and impulsive. Those were qualities I'd come to love in her but turned against me, they'd become lethal.

    With a new day's light, I too felt lighter and more enlightened. I knew there was more I needed to do, beyond a set of divorce papers.

    Julie worked at the community center and was involved with less fortunate children. I asked her for a reference on a mental health specialist or therapist. She knew three that worked with several of the kids there. I spoke to all three and eventually settled on the guy named Oscar.

    "None of my business, Joey," she cautiously said. "But what led to this?" I knew what she was asking and it didn't upset me.

    "I'm just working on me," I simply responded. "Gotta figure some things out." That earned me a raised eyebrow but also a look of respect. It was nice to see something other than pity staring back at me.

    The next thing I decided I needed to do was focus on what kind of excuses Kat might muster and plan to shut them down. That would not be for argument's sake. If I was to discover what kind of woman she was - exactly - I'd need a means to wade through the bullshit.

    Thinking about her video and relating her to Kristy, crazy as that bitch was, I decided that her first line of defense would be the "fragile male ego." I wrote some notes in a journal I'd purchased that afternoon. When I got a little stuck, I called Stacy.

    "Well, you're halfway there," she exclaimed after I told her what I thought I was up against. I was surprised I think mostly because I'd finally gotten something right about women.

    "You're right about ego," she said. "That's the modern women's first line of defense. Probably the ancient women too." She was giggling and having a good time, full of herself.

    "Women's ego," she continued. "Well, we don't refer to it as that. It's desire or need. It's other things. How are you planning to respond if she pulls that on you?"

    "I don't know," I said quietly. "I'm stuck."

    Come on, Joey," she interrupted. "Here, let's pretend I'm her," she tried to change her voice.

    "It was an opportunity of a lifetime," she mocked. "You can't seriously tell me that you're going to let your ego get in the way of a happy future. A lifetime of wonderful memories we've yet to make together, just because I took advantage of something that couldn't possibly ever happen again! I know you can't look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me."

    "Hey, you're pretty good at that!" We both laughed out loud. "Okay, um, give me a minute to think."

    "Here goes," I said after my pause. "No... ah, 'Kat,' I think it's your ego in play here. Your ego gave you permission to hurt me and break your promises. To go with that slimy bastard. And you know what? His ego, too. I assume he saw your rings before you took them off and gave them to Julie. And what? Because he can carry a note and is famous, he's entitled? He and you have no problem ruining relationships and marriages?"

    "Not bad," she said more seriously. "But you didn't answer her question, so she's gonna throw it back at you, like this - I went because it was the chance of a lifetime. I told you I was going and was honest about it. Remember, I even mentioned 'groupie,' just so it was out there. So you'd know. I knew it would damage your pride, but more so your ego. I knew it would take some time for you to get over it. You even got an extra week. Look at me, Joey. I don't love him. I had sex with... yeah, famous people. Why can't you get past that?"

    That one caused me to have to use more brain cells. We were both quiet for a bit, while Stacy let me work the problem. Then she encouraged me and dropped a few hints.

    "Joey, what made you so mad when you found that waitress giving the singer a... well you know, in that back room? What was the feeling that set you off?"

    That was easy. "She was supposed to be with me," I said indignantly. "Then she just went off with him."

    "Okay," she said carefully. "Maybe, but what about this? She left you out, but she disparaged you, insulted you, and could have humiliated you if she'd been caught. Is that true?"

    "Yeah," I replied quietly not liking having to relive the event.

    "So, her ego trumped yours," she continued. "Her needs did too. Her desires. That's the common thread here. Kat will use the video to put you off balance. 'Hey, I told you, so," is how she's going to frame it. Stop worrying about your feelings - your 'ego,' - and let's focus on mine. My needs and desires, because that's what's really important."

    "I guess so," I was getting tired and frustrated.

    "Think about it," she said. "Maybe sleep on it."

    I told her I was seeing a counselor and her mood seemed to brighten. Sleep came almost the second my head hit the pillow.

    Over the next few days, I spoke to Brad and got his opinion. He'd divorce the bitch, was his only stance. I talked to Julie and my sister, too. Elaina was the odd person out. She seemed to think I should work towards forgiveness and get on with life. That told me a lot about Elaina but it didn't make me love her less. It was helpful to hear her counterpoint to Stacy.

    She wasn't happy that Stacy and I had been spending time together. When I pointed out what my wife was doing, she just sighed and said she hoped I wouldn't be too harsh on Kat and that I'd stop seeing Stacy, when my wife returned.

    It took less than twenty minutes to realize I didn't like Oscar at all. Luckily, I was able to schedule another appointment the following day with a woman named Lydia. She was the most helpful. When she asked what I was hoping to accomplish, I told her that I never made this mistake again with a woman.

    "What would you say is wrong with you?" her question caught me off guard.

    "I... I don't know," I stammered. "Maybe I have some repressed issue from my childhood that manifests itself and causes me to become attracted to hurtful, self-centered women."

    Ah," Lydia laughed hard. "Maybe it's just that your picker is broken." Then we both laughed. I found it very easy to talk to Lydia after that. She was quite encouraging but she also didn't mince words. In the end, it came down to ensuring that while a relationship was developing, I made sure to ask the right questions. Created hypothetical situations and then played 'what if.' If I'd only known it was that easy.

    I felt much better about myself. The call to my attorney confirmed they were prepared to serve her right before the concert in Boston. The people in the apartment office weren't too pleased that we broke our lease early but I didn't care. I started boxing up our possessions - hers and mine - to make things easier.

    Stacy and I role-played a few more times on the phone. The night before Kat was to return, I knew she'd been served at some point, Stacy and I were on the phone for four and a half hours. Most of it we spent talking about a future, not my soon-to-be ex-wife.

    I slept - hopeful about my future. Oddly, I felt so good, my future was bright with or without Stacy. I was going to take it slow with her. There was no way I was going to go through something like this again.

    When I came home from work, Kat was sitting at the kitchen table. She had a half glass of red wine and an empty bottle next to it. She just looked up at me without a word.

    "Look who made it home." I couldn't help it.

    All the rage returned in an instant. Nothing could have prepared me for seeing her there.

    "How could you do that?" she asked, slurring her words slightly.

    "Funny," I replied quickly. "That's supposed to be my question." She made to speak over me.

    "Not happening tonight," I stated, holding up my hand. "You're drunk, or halfway there. Probably feeling a bit like I was those first few days. I won't get the answers I need now. We'll talk tomorrow if you're sober. You need to start thinking about where you're going to live."

    I headed up the stairs to change into something comfortable. Her condition was something I hadn't anticipated, although I should have. Dinner was waiting for me at the pub, I decided. I wasn't about to listen to her 'poor me' bullshit.

    When I returned at eleven, Kat was asleep in our bed - former bed. I went to the spare room and got ready to sleep. I'd gotten everything in place before Kat came home.

    Then I texted Stacy 'goodnight.' She replied wanting to know how it went but I didn't feel like talking about it. Especially not typing it. I told her we'd discuss it the next time I saw her. The thing that haunted my thoughts right then was if I wanted another relationship. Not that Stacy wasn't appealing enough. She was but I knew what was coming with Kat and me.

    Kat was a different person the next night. I'd already been alerted to the fact that she'd spoken with Julie. Brad told me that. Elaina had also called to chew me out about the divorce papers. I told her to shut up - my marriage was over and I wasn't changing my mind.

    My favorite dinner was on the table and Kat looked like she'd been cleaning the house all day on top of cooking. She was dressed in her favorite tight top and jeans. Again, no words except 'hi.'

    I examined the meatloaf. Kat gave a sour look. "No, I didn't poison it," she snarled. "Although it did cross my mind."

    "Sit down," I commanded. She wasn't used to me talking to her like that. I think she went to the fridge to get me a beer just out of spite.

    "I'm not drunk now," she said as I cautiously tasted my food. "But my question is still the same."

    "As far as I'm concerned," I began, remembering what she'd asked the previous night, "our marriage is DOA but I do have questions and I think you at least owe me an explanation."

    "Can we not start there, please?" she wasn't begging, she was meandering. "I know you have questions. I'll answer them all - completely and honestly. I don't want a divorce. I want to talk this out - understand your feelings and what we need to do to move forward."

    I didn't answer or respond to any of that. After a long pause, and setting my fork down, I started again.

    "What could you have possibly been thinking, going with them?" It was pretty straightforward.

    "Like I said in my video to you," she said without hesitation, obviously prepared for that question, "it was the opportunity of a lifetime. I wasn't thinking - exactly - I just had to do it. It was a great experience and now it's over. I even got to use some of my marketing skills, which was unexpected."

    "Yeah," I spat. "Was that before or after you spent your time on your back in his bed?"

    She ignored the dig. "Joey," she trudged on, reliving her fun. "When Julie and I ended up on the other side of the stage, we were there with some women who were... with the band. As I told you, I was one of six asked to continue on tour with them. As you also probably know, the first ten days involved four shows. At each concert, more groupies join, and others leave. There were six in Cleveland and ten in Ann Arbor. I didn't keep track after that but we were busy."

    I chuckled sarcastically at that. She wasn't going to be deterred. "We did social media posts most of the day. On nights there were no concerts, we accompanied the band to social events - prescheduled appearances at nightclubs and high-end restaurants. During the day, we'd go places the band's management had booked. One day at the Cleveland Zoo. Lots of posing and hundreds of photo ops for the various fan pages.

    "Just before the third concert, I told Tad about my marketing degree and some ideas to improve his exposure while making these appearances. How to improve his visibility and image. I gave him ideas about setting up live streams at these events which would look like they were from a fan's point of view. He put me with the band's manager, who put me with the marketing team, and that's why I stayed the extra nine days."

    "Great," I spat. "Now he can have virtual groupies instead of real ones. Now that the damage is done."

    I could have cared less. It was time to get to the important stuff.

    "How many times did you really fuck that asshole?" I asked, fully loaded. "Did you go bareback?"

    Kat looked at me hard. It took everything she had in her, not to lash out. It was written all over her face.

    Finally, with a deep sigh, she responded. "What the hell, Joey," she half-whined, half-yelled. "I just told you all the things I did for the past three weeks. The sex was meaningless and only four times. That's your question, then. The sex? Well, for your information, the sex wasn't in the top five best parts of my time on the tour and it wasn't even in consideration when I decided to go."

    "Yeah, Kat. The sex," I said coldly. "And yes, that's what's important to me. That's the part that jeopardized our marriage, broke your vows, and showed your lack of respect and love. And you didn't answer the question, I noticed."

    I could see she wanted to avoid discussing the sex, or what I asked her. She had it wrapped up in a pretty little gift box in her head. She was trying to place the bow on top and I'd ruined her cute little prepared soliloquy. Resigned, she decided on a direct approach.

    "I told you," she said with attitude. "It was four times. Tad and I didn't use any protection - he doesn't like... condoms. The drummer, David, and bass guitarist Kyle wore them. It was once each with them." She finished with a tone like 'Are you happy now?'

    "Well, we already have a problem," I replied. "Because I don't believe you. I'm not sure I ever will again. I never heard of a groupie using her marketing talent. But let's move on.

    "What was your plan," I continued, asking, "to get your husband back on board when you returned? I mean you know me well enough by now. Or thought you did."

    She seemed ready for that one too. "I figured that if you loved me, and because I told you, there wouldn't be any - what did you call it? Getting you back on board. I planned to show you how much I love you, showering you with affection, and a little extra... you know."

    The stupid bitch was trying to hide her guilt so hard she couldn't even say the word. "What would make you think, in your wildest imagination, that I'd even want to have... you know, with you?"

    That one scored a direct hit, but we weren't playing Battleship. The anger that was overtaking me was due to my not properly vetting her as a life partner.

    "Joey," she acted and sounded bemused, "I'm not damaged goods for god's sake. You can have sex with me. I'm your wife. I understand that I've hurt you in ways I didn't consider and some that I did, but apparently not to the level I have. We can get past this. I'm not trying to sound cliché or make excuses. I'm trying to tell you I'm the same person I've always been."

     
      Posted on : Mar 31, 2025
     

     
    Add Comment




    Contact us - FAQ - ASACP - DMCA - Privacy Policy - Terms of Service - 2257



    Served by site-686bfb45f8-qtpsl
    Generated 00:24:18