Do The Dots Connect?

Red flags are supposed to catch your attention. Sometimes they don’t. Seemingly innocent or innocuous things come and go, and you don’t realize that they are actually dots that will later be connected.

These were the thoughts that ran through my head that night as I gazed wide-eyed at my computer screen.

My beautiful wife of three years (we were each other’s first loves) was attending a seminar on how to increase your Internet presence. She had lost her job as a substitute teacher when the pandemic ended in-person school in our district. She is a smart and energetic woman, so rather than be discouraged, she started doing on-line selling.

Calling her business Ginger’s Online Boutique, she would scour the net for bargains on women’s clothes, household items, and anything else that tickled her fancy, buy them, then market them on her site with a bit of a mark-up and some clever descriptions. Hardly a day passed without the FedEx truck stopping in front of our apartment building to drop off or pickup up packages. Over time Ginger developed a pretty good customer base, and her business continued to grow. Since bargains have to be cheap to be bargains, her mark-up on each item was small – but the profits added up with volume. Every once in a while she would turn up an on-line steal where she could really jack up the price. Designer purses were sometimes gold mines.

Ginger and I had met in college, dated for two years, then married soon after graduation. She is pretty, vivacious, and sweet. I fell head over heels for her, and she seemed to have taken to me as well. I was a business major, and after graduation entered a management training program at one of the big anonymous corporations whose name in big letters on the front of a glass-and-steel office building tells you nothing about what goes on inside.

We were doing well. I was performing and advancing at work, and although her district was not hiring full-time teachers, she became a popular substitute and got called in three or four days out of a typical week.

Her work at school dried up when the pandemic hit, but mine didn’t. We set up a home office in the second bedroom of our apartment, and I worked remotely with a company-provided laptop, and a phone. Because I spent many hours each day on the phone, Ginger set up a desk in our bedroom. She bought herself a very capable computer with enough capacity, speed, memory and features to support her business plan. It was kind of odd for us both to be working in the same apartment and sometimes barely seeing each other all day. Maybe we’d both run out to the kitchen for a coffee refill or a snack, but then we’d be back at it in our respective “work stations.” Those accidental encounters usually ended with a hug and a kiss. Ginger is a very physical woman. She likes to touch and to be touched. Hugs and kisses make her happy. I’m not as touchy as she is, but I enjoy her attention just the same. She likes sex too. We’re on the same page with that.

It got so we were pretty casual about how we dressed for work. I usually had to wear a dress shirt, or at least presentable polo for Zoom calls, but it was usually shorts or sweats below the waist. One day I walked past the bedroom when Ginger was working and noticed she was sitting at the computer in just a bra and panties. I gave a little teasing wolf whistle, and she spun around. She explained that she was wearing them to see how to best describe them on her website – she hoped to make a deal and become an on-line distributor for a line of lingerie.

She looked pretty damn good, so I moved up behind her and gave her a hug from behind. As I kissed her neck I copped a feel. She squirmed a bit, but tried to stay focused on her work. I let her go, and wore a big smile as I grabbed my coffee in the kitchen and got back to the important tasks awaiting me back at my computer. Well, somebody thought they were important.

It went on like that – we’d have breakfast together, work separately all day, then reconnect for dinner. Because she controlled her own hours, Ginger was able to make the time to explore recipes and do some very creative and delicious cooking. We moved aside some furniture in the living room and put in a treadmill and an exercise bike, and quite often we’d spend evenings watching TV while running and riding in place. With the regular exercise we stayed trim despite confinement, and working with some dumbbells Ginger was working on shaping her figure. Which I didn’t think she really needed to do, because her shape was pretty damn pleasing to begin with.

We had sex. We had a lot of sex. We both enjoyed sex, and we were young and in love. Sometimes between Zoom meetings I would go into her office/bedroom and try to seduce her away from her computer. Sometimes it worked.

Eventually I got called back to work in person in the office, but when in-person instruction resumed at school, Ginger had found that she was doing enough business on her computer that she could retire from teaching, so she let the school know they didn’t need to call her anymore.

Ginger’s birthday was coming up, and she asked me for a video camera as her big gift. She had picked one out from an online seller, and told me that it would help her to build her business. She had a deal in the works that would require this upgrade.

Well, we were pretty pleased with the income she had been bringing into the household, so it made perfect sense to me to upgrade her technical capabilities to enhance her business. I bought her the camera, and on her birthday she ripped off the giftwrap and opened the box with great enthusiasm. “Oh Paul, this is perfect, thank you!” she gushed as she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a warm, wet kiss. “With this I can really up my online game,” she assured me.

A couple of weeks later I came home to find a large shipping box sitting open in the middle of the living room. Ginger very mysteriously asked me to sit down in my easy chair, and handed me a tumbler of Scotch. “That big deal I told about has finally come through,” she told me. “This is why I needed the camera. My friend Ashley from high school has launched a new company selling sexy lingerie. She designs everything herself. It’s the highest quality, and she has signed me up as one of her primary sales outlets.”

“That’s great, Sweetheart,” I said with a big smile. “I’m so proud of you and the way you have built a business from scratch in these difficult times. I always knew you were smart and pretty, but I didn’t realize that I was marrying an entrepreneur.”

With that she leaned over to give me a hug and a kiss, then turned on her heels and headed for the bedroom. “Let me model some things for you.” said over her shoulder as she turned the corner to the hall. She spent the next 40 minutes modeling one very sexy outfit after another. Some were one-piece but cut sexily, some were transparent, some were two piece showing a lot of skin, some of the bikini bottoms were even crotchless. All were calculated to get the juices flowing, and she had me hard as a rock in no time.

When she finally walked out wearing regular shorts and a tee, she came and sat on my lap. “So, what do you think? Think those items will sell?” she said as she bent in an nuzzled my earlobe. A hand slipped down between us to feel my hard cock. “Oh yes, I think you approve,” she said. Then she got serious.

“One problem with on-line selling of clothes is that it’s hard for the customer to visualize what the item will look like when it is worn. Photos of models and mannequins can help, but they are static and don’t have life. This is why I needed the video camera. Ashley wants me to do live modeling on the website, just like I did for you. We think this will be the difference-maker that will really boost the business.”

I was a bit taken aback at the idea of my wife modeling sexy lingerie, intended to be worn for a lover behind closed doors, online for the world to see.

“Are you sure you want to be displaying your assets so publicly?” I asked her, trying to be diplomatic, and not wishing to stifle her enthusiasm.

“Yes, Paul, this is something I want to do. It will mean a very significant boost in my income, it will help me to promote the brand of my website for all the other products, and it will help me to fulfill a secret dream of mine to someday be a model. Remember, this website is targeted to women, so it will be about creating a dream for a woman to satisfy her man, rather than about helping a horny old goat to get off.”

“Well, it is your business, and you don’t need my permission to do it,” I said. “It almost seems as though you’ve been seeking permission though.”

“No, Sweetheart, not permission. I’ve already signed the contract. I’m doing this. But I am hoping to have your support for this venture. We’re in this life together, and I want us to be together in all things.”

“Okay,” I said. “Permission not needed and not sought, but granted. If you look half as good on your website modeling that stuff as you looked to me tonight, you’ll be sold out in no time. What’s for dinner?”

She hadn’t had time to cook anything, so we ordered in. While we waited for the food, I helped her rearrange some things in the bedroom to create a “studio” space for modeling. The bed took up so much of the room that it was impossible to create a sight line that did not have at least a corner of the bedspread in view, but by the time we were finished she had a very workable “runway” space for doing her sexy turns.

As she had predicted, in the weeks to follow the business took off. Fresh boxes of new styles arrived about once a week, and Ginger spent her days modeling and managing lingerie sales online, while continuing to keep up with her other traditional website sales ventures. One day a large shipping box arrived with a custom backdrop screen Ginger had designed for her bedroom “studio.” It featured Ashley’s logo along with “Ginger’sOnlineBoutique.com” and was a neutral soft blue background color for the modeling. With a little more re-arranging we made it fit and it looked good

Meanwhile I was progressing in my company, enjoying my work, and also enjoying with Ginger some of the things that her booming business made possible. For one thing, some nights I would walk in after work and find that her day of sexy modeling had turned her on so much that she would jump my bones as soon as I set down my briefcase. Mondays and Thursdays seemed to be days that got her wound up. She told me that was when she received her sales reports from Ashley. We’d have wild rollicking sex, then eat dinner. For Christmas she treated me to a trip to Cabo, and we spent a week in the sun. Life was very good. We were in love, any problems we encountered seemed to be easily manageable, and between us we were bringing in some pretty serious money for a couple of 26-year-olds.

And so here I was, a year into her venture, looking at my computer screen. I visited her website from time to time to admire her creativity, her salesmanship, and her sexy body as she showed off her product line. On this night, since she was out at that seminar, I visited the website and watched her for a while, and I found myself getting a little worked up down below. So I exited Ginger’s site, and looked up a porn site I like. Of course when you go to those sites you are hit first with advertising for paid porn sites and webcams and sex enhancement products – the whole panoply of sex-related material.

I was about to click past the ads when my eye fell on one of the thumbnail ads for a webcam sex site. Smiling seductively at me in a very revealing negligee was my dear wife Ginger. Shaken, I clicked on the ad, and was directed to a payment page. I put in a credit card number and was immediately welcomed into “Ginger’s Bedroom.” There I found a variety of videos of Ginger interacting with customers through her keyboard. She talked sexily to them as they predictably asked her to show her tits, or wave her butt, you get the idea. She was wearing a wig, because in the video her hair is blonde and hangs down past her shoulders, kissing the top of her breasts. The Ginger I know has light brown hair cut much shorter.

By looking at the array of saved videos I could sort of track the progress of her porn star career by recognizing the lingerie – from the stuff she received months ago to the more recent styles. Starting from what looked like No. 1, I clicked through them all. It was pretty clear at the beginning that she was very shy and nervous about what she was doing. She would basically do the same things she was doing on her sales site, but with a little sexier attitude and some touching and stroking of her body.

After a few like that, though, it seemed that she felt the need to warm things up. The requests coming in were more provocative. When she was asked to show her tits, she would very shyly pull the top down, or do a little strip tease. At first she would not expose her pussy, although she would touch herself there when asked. She did a lot of rubbing and touching her breasts and butt and pussy, but did not perform any overt sex acts.

But as time went by, she became more comfortable in front of the camera, and bolder. She would take off her top with a flourish, and she started pushing her bottoms aside or taking them off to massage and finger her pussy. At one point she became so emboldened that she would masturbate and very visibly show when she had an orgasm. Once she even squirted onto the camera lens.

Watching these videos, I was quaking. My hand shook as I worked the keyboard and mouse. I was mystified. I was angry. I was turned on. I was confused. I was mesmerized. I couldn’t stop looking.

As I got closer to the present in viewing these videos I got the feeling that somebody was coaching her, giving her suggestions about how she could turn up the heat and make her displays hotter. I could also tell by the counter at the side of the screen that she was building audience – she had gone from a few hundred on her live stream at the start to 30,000 more recently. And these were paying customers!

Then I got a real shock. Four videos from the end she introduced a co-star. She told her audience that Sven was a new friend who would be helping her to spice things up. I recognized “Sven” as a Dave, a guy who lived with his wife a floor above us in the building, and who I saw occasionally on the elevator. He was a good-looking fellow, a bit over six feet, sandy hair, athletic build, wide white-tooth smile.

In their first video together, “Sven” just helped Ginger out of her clothes. He managed the keyboard and passed on the comments the viewers were making with something I supposed he imagined would sound like a Swedish accent. He made some leering comments and teased Ginger. At the end of the session they kissed, deeply. Other than that he did not engage in sexual activity with her.

In the next video they turned up the heat. Once “Sven” had stripped Ginger, the computer beeped and she got a request to touch him. She unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. It was not a gigantic porn star cock, but it was big enough, and it was pointing at the ceiling. She played with it a little bit, stroking it and cupping his balls, but she did not take it in her mouth and she did not get him off. He did, however, feel her tits, rub her nipples, and touch her pussy. The session ended with a longer, deeper kiss. Watching, I was in a cold sweat. My stomach churned and my eyes were wet.

I almost didn’t dare to open the next one, because I feared I would see what I knew I would see. But open it it did, and sure enough, by the time they were finished I felt like I would die. After the mild touchy strip tease stuff at the beginning, her fans started really pushing them. They asked him to suck her tits, and he did, and they asked her to take all of his clothes off him. She did. They asked him to put a finger in her. You could see her eyes flash “no,” but after a moment she opened her legs and he reached down and fingered her. She squirmed, then with a coy smile she pushed his hand away. After that she was told to rub his cock, which she did, making him hard. Then it came. BEEP: “Suck him off.” She looked at the camera and then at the hard cock bobbing in front of her, then back up into Sven’s eyes. She froze. Then Sven pushed his cock up to her mouth. She took in in, hesitantly, kissed it, licked the end a little, then after a minute reflexes kicked in and her mouth began to work. Sure enough, after a couple of minutes she had sucked him off, he had come on her face, and my woodie had shrunk to a nubbin.

Then the final one. I went to the kitchen, poured myself a tumbler of Scotch, then came back and sat in front of the computer. My heart was pounding, the blood was pulsing in my temples, and my hand shook as I reached out to start the video.

It began like they all do, with Ginger sitting on the bed in a sexy negligee. She smiled coyly into the camera and welcomed her viewers to her latest session. Her costume for the night was a red two-piece, with a very skimpy bikini top made of see-through mesh material. Her nipples poked through very plainly. You couldn’t see the bottoms in the opening shot, but in her navel you could see a glistening diamond stud. In her hand was some sort of a cord which snaked off camera. “Because I heard from so many of you that you enjoyed the addition of Sven to our sessions, I have asked him back. Say ‘Hello,’ Sven.” Dave comes out from behind the camera. Unlike previous appearances, Dave isn’t in street clothes this time. He is naked except for a loincloth (no kidding, a real loincloth) and a leather collar around his neck. The other end of Ginger’s cord is fastened to a ring on the collar.

“Today we’re going to try something different. Sven was a bad boy during our last session. And he has told me that he has always had a secret fantasy to be a sub. So I have decided to help him realize his fantasy. For today’s session, I want you to tell me what you want to see Sven do. He will do your bidding – up to a point which I determine. So send your requests to me and we’ll get this party started. To begin, Sven, why don’t you suck my toes?” She swings her left leg up onto the bed and sticks her foot out toward his face. Her right leg is still on the floor, so she is shooting a clear pussy shot through the transparent net mesh of the bikini bottom.

Shortly after she began the lingerie modeling, I discovered one night as we began lovemaking that she had shaved herself down there. I asked her about it (not complaining) and she said she thought it would look better not to be showing hair through the skimpy bottoms she models. At the time that made sense, I thought.

So now she was displaying her pussy slit as Dave began sucking on her big toe and sensuously rubbing her foot and lower leg with his hands. He was really getting into it when the computer beeped and Ginger got their first request. She read, “‘Tell Sven to show us his cock.’ Okay, Sven, come sit next to me,” she swung down her leg and patted the bed beside her, “and show them your cock.” She tugged on the leash and Dave slid over to sit next to her, then pulled off his loincloth. Since his last appearance he had shaved his pubic region, so his cock and balls were in very plain view. He was not erect, but was about half-staff.

The computer beeped again. “Tell him to show us his balls.” He stood closer to the camera and cupped his balls with his left hand, displaying them lewdly. Beep. “Tell him to stroke himself hard.” He sat back down and stroked himself hard. Meanwhile, Ginger was playing with his leash, holding out her end like a pointer and tickling his nipples, under his arms, and finally the tip of his cock. Dave’s cock stood straight and proud.

BEEP. “Make him eat you out.”

“Ooh, Sven, they want you to go down on me.” She said it uncomfortably, but still trying to be sexy. “I’ve never had a naked sub man go down on me before. Why don’t you tip the camera down so they can watch you start by licking my feet, then work your way up to the promised land. If you do a good enough job, I may give you a taste.” She giggled with a teasing wink at the camera, and slapped at his cock with the end of the leash. “Do it now!”

She pulled on the leash, then pulled his head down. He reached back to adjust the camera, then got onto all fours and began to lick her feet like a dog. He sucked on each toe, then began to work his way up her leg, switching back and forth between left and right, and licking with the flat of his tongue. “Are those legs smooth enough, Sven?” she asked. He made a grunting noise while nodding his head, tongue still lapping. Then she looked at the camera and said, “I made him shave me this morning, just like a good slave. I made him go very slow and be very careful. If he pressed too hard or made me sting, I slapped him in the balls with my riding crop. Didn’t I, Sven?” Again Sven nodded.

BEEP. “Show us how you slapped his balls.”

She jerked on the leash and pulled him up until his cock and balls came into view. His cock was hard as steel. She smacked him in the nuts with the end of the leash and he recoiled in pain.

BEEP. “Harder!”

“Come on Sven,” she tugged up on the leash, “Get up and give them a better view.” He half stood and she really hauled off and popped him, square in the scrotum. He reeled in real pain this time, and went down to a knee. He looked at her with a shocked expression, as if he couldn’t believe she would really hurt him that way. His hard-on immediately began to wilt.

Beep. “Harder,” she read. He looked at her with fear in his eyes, then looked at the camera and shook his head.

“No, please,” he said.

“I’ll tell you what. I know I really only hit the right one last time. So this time I’ll go for the left one, and then we’ll be done with this. Before he could react the stiff leather handle on the leash connected solidly with his left ball. He fell on the floor in a heap, moaning.

“Oh dear, I think I’ve done it this time,” she said, with a worried look in her eye. “You know, I’m not a dom, and he’s not really a sub, this was a game we were playing for you guys. I’m afraid you got me to go too far. I have to send Sven home to his wife when we’re done here, you know,” she said, bending over his huddled form on the floor. She unclipped the leash. “Go on, Dave, go take care of yourself, we’re done here.”

He crawled off stage left, and she looked straight into the camera. “Well, we won’t be trying that stunt any more. I’m sorry boys, we’re done here.” And the screen went black.

I tried to take another sip of my drink, and realized the glass was empty. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was nearly time for her to be returning from her seminar. If that’s really where she was. I was almost as shaken as Sven at this point, although it was my heart that was aching and not my balls.

I sat for a minute trying to figure out what to do. I went back to the previous session, sped to the end, where he was spewing semen on my wife’s face at tits, then I hit “Print Screen.” The printer beside my desk came to life, and an 8-and-a-half by 11 print soon emerged.

I exited the website, shut down the computer, then went and put the photo on the kitchen table. I went into the bedroom and packed myself an overnight bag, turned off the lights, and left.

There was a Hampton Inn about a mile from the apartment. I drove there, got myself a room, and went up to ponder my future and try to sleep. As I rode the elevator to the third floor, I started to see those dots in my head, and started connecting them. Those dots that hadn’t meant anything at the time, but now coalesced to form a picture.

First there was the high-end computer. Then the video camera. Then the lingerie modeling. Shit, I had even helped her to create the “studio” in our bedroom for her venture. That lingerie business was legit, as far as I could tell. How could I have foreseen where it might lead? If it wasn’t part of her plan from the start. Shit shit shit. When I went back to working in the office downtown, that cleared the way for her to get going with this side deal. Had she been putting the pieces into place even before I went back so she’d be ready?

Then I had a thought. I grabbed my laptop out of my overnight bag and booted it up. I bypassed the house WiFi because it probably would block porn, and used my cell as a hot spot. I went to her porn site and logged in. At the side of the screen was information about the site, including the “live” hours. She went live Mondays and Thursdays from 3:00 to 4:00 in the afternoon. That seemed like an odd hour to be streaming porn. Then I looked at a couple of the recorded sessions and checked the names of the pervs who were logging in. Most of them had foreign-sounding names – Eastern European and even some Arab names. She was doing her live bit in the afternoon our time, but her audience was watching late at night where they were.

This gave me two bits of information. First, it was unlikely that anybody I knew would be logging on for porn at that hour, so maybe she hadn’t been seen by my friends. And second, for her to have been doing business overseas, she had not set this deal up by herself. As smart and handy with the Internet business as she had shown herself to be, I could not imagine that she’d have had the connections or the knowhow to set up this porn site. Incidentally, it also explained why she was so hot to trot when I came home Mondays and Thursdays. Her porno sessions had turned her on just as much as they had her audience.

As I logged out and shut down the computer I decided I would just lie down in bed and try to sleep. I’d had enough booze that I was a little downed out anyway, although my agitation over the situation countered that. I was a fucking mess. Then I realized that it would be easy for somebody I know to have stumbled across her saved sessions on the website just like I had. Shit.

Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. I laid back and closed my eyes. The room swam a little. I held onto the bedcovers. Then my phone rang. Damn, I had intended to turn it off. I wasn’t ready to talk to her. I really didn’t know what I would say. I let it go to voicemail, then I turned it off. I would call the office in the morning and take a personal day off. In the meantime, I stared holes into the ceiling.

CHAPTER TWO

About 5:00 a.m. I got up to pee. I brushed my teeth and tried to get rid of the Scotch aftertaste with some of the Hampton Inn mouthwash. I chugged a couple glasses of water, then went back into the bedroom. With the lights out in the room I could see that every light on the phone was lit.

I picked it up and opened the voicemail. There were 11 calls from Ginger. I decided to listen. Maybe I would learn something. I took them in chronological order (it’s what accountants do).

In the first one I could hear her getting out of her car, closing the door, then fumbling with the door to the building. “Hi honey, I’m home and I’m coming up the elevator. I just didn’t want to startle you coming in.”

Then the next message: “Honey where are you? I just got in the door and the apartment is dark and you don’t seem to be here. There, I’ve turned on the lights. Where are you, sweetie? Oh God! Oh no! Oh damn! Fuck! I knew this would happen. Paul, where are you?” Then sobbing. The phone hits the floor and the line goes dead.

“Paul, please call me,” says the next message. Four more just like that. “Paul, I can’t stand it. I have to talk to you. Please call me. You can call me anything you want, but please call me.”

Now she was getting worried about me. “Paul, are you safe? Are you alright? I see an almost empty Scotch bottle here. I’m worried about you. Are you driving drunk? Please just let me know you’re safe.”

The rest were just attempts where she calls my name and then hangs up when I don’t respond. She was crying. So was I. I’d never been in a situation like this – never contemplated a situation like this, and I don’t know what I was supposed to do.

I decided to send her a text message. “I’m safe. Don’t call anymore.” Checkout time was 11 a.m. I crawled under the covers and closed my eyes. Somehow I got to sleep. I had set my watch to wake me up at 8:00 a.m. so I could call work. I might be losing my wife, I didn’t want to lose my job too. After telling my boss I was sick I hung up and went back to sleep until 10:45. I managed to climb out of bed and make it to the bathroom. I peed a torrent, then looked in the mirror. Needless to say, I looked like shit. I had slept in my clothes, and I had dried tears on my cheeks and spittle on my chin. I washed my face, tried to comb my hair over with my fingers, then packed up my stuff and checked out.

I really wasn’t ready to go home, but I didn’t have anyplace else I wanted to go, and I figured I was going to have to deal with it sometime, so I pointed the car toward what until a few hours before I had thought of as home sweet home.

I parked, grabbed my bag and walked into the building. I took the elevator up and let myself into the apartment. Ginger sprang up from a kitchen chair and ran at me. She threw her arms around me and tried to hug and kiss me. “I’m so sorry, I’m such an idiot, I’m so sorry,” she kept repeating. At least I think that was what she was saying. I was staring in disbelief at what I saw in the kitchen. Dave, AKA Sven, was sitting at my kitchen table – had been sitting there with my wife. I shrugged her off and made for him. I wasn’t sure just what I was going to do but he wasn’t going to survive it.

“Paul, stop!” she cried, and ran to get in front of me. I stopped so I wouldn’t run over her.

“What is he doing in my house?” I demanded. “What could possibly have made you imagine that I would want his face to be in front of me when I walked in the door? What the fuck is wrong with you? What have you done with the smart, loving woman I married? Are you on drugs?”

“Please, honey, let’s slow down. I asked Dave to help me explain how I got into this mess. He’s going to take the blame for a lot of it, but I can’t blame him for the fact that I went along. Please, let’s sit down. You have questions, I have answers. They may not be good answers, but they are what I have. You look like you could use some strong coffee – sit down here at the table and I’ll get you some.”

I sat down, heavily. She put a mug of coffee in front of me. I just looked back and forth between the two of them. “So, what do you have to tell me? Are you two having an affair?”

“Well, the first and probably most important thing is that there is nothing going on between Dave and me, and there never has been. What you saw in those videos was theatrical performance plain and simple. I love you and Dave loves his wife, and there’s been no hanky panky.”

“She said, as she wiped the cum off her chin.” I muttered. They both hung their heads. “Paul…” Dave said, trying to get into the conversation. I raised my hand to stop him.

“I don’t want to hear peep one from you until I ask for it, and I won’t be asking for it until the blonde bombshell here has answered some questions. When, why, and what the fuck? That ought to cover it. As I’ve been lying on my back in a motel room I’ve been thinking over the past year, connecting dots. Did I buy you that expensive video camera just so you could become an international porn Slut? Was this lingerie business just a trick to get me to buy into what you’ve been doing? Is there actually somebody named Ashley in the lingerie business. And when did this asshole stick his nose under my tent? Oh and what else has he stuck where?”

Ginger wisely took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. When Dave looked like he wanted to talk, she waved her hand at him and shot him a look that would kill. “Last things first. You saw on those videos everything physical that has taken place between Dave and me. There isn’t anything else. There isn’t any affair, there isn’t any feeling, there isn’t any romance and there sure as hell isn’t any love. There isn’t even any particular attraction. What you saw was acting. The only other thing that has transpired between us is conversations about business, and that’s where I got my head up my ass and fucked up.”

“What about him shaving your legs?”

“Story telling. Never happened. Next: You are connecting dots that aren’t dots. I can see how you might think so, but no. The lingerie business is totally legit. Ashley is a real person, and was my friend in high school, just like I told you. She reached out to me because she thought I was pretty enough to be able to sell her line by modeling it. The video presentation format was her idea, and she sold me on it. Now I may be in trouble with her for using her beautiful creations on a cheesy porn site. We’ll see about that. But that’s not the immediate problem.

“Dave is a webmaster. He runs websites for a number of businesses – most of them legitimate businesses but he also has a couple of porn sites, as he has explained it to me. We got to talking one day in the lobby as we waited for the elevator, and I told him about my lingerie site, and how the live modeling was really boosting sales. He said he might have some ideas to help me, and asked if we could have lunch and discuss it. I agreed, and we had lunch a couple of days later. I had no reason to suppose that his intentions were any less honorable than mine – two business people talking business.

“His idea was that since we already had the lingerie and I was already modeling, why not launch a soft core erotic interactive streaming site. Men like to buy lingerie for their women, and maybe we could generate some sales. And even if we didn’t these streaming sites can turn a lot of cash. He never used the word pornography, and I wasn’t sophisticated enough to recognize that this is what he was steering me toward. I imagined that I’d be doing some sexy poses and a bit of dirty talk.

“He persuaded me that this could be a good sales channel. So that’s how I got into it. He set up the deal to get me the tie to the porn advertising people and to get me onto the porn sites. He set up the domain and did all the contracts. And he has business associates in Europe and the Middle East and he got them on board to support. Remember, as far as I knew all this was supposed to be was a tarted-up sales channel for Ashley’s lingerie.”

I looked at Dave. “Any comment on what she has told me so far?”

“No, she has described things exactly as they happened. I’m afraid two things went wrong on my end. First, I trusted the wrong people to present this streaming webcam site correctly, and second I let my enthusiasm get ahead of my good sense. After we got started I was getting phone calls ‘You need to turn up the heat, this is too tame,’ they would say. So I encouraged Ginger to be bolder. You saw the progression. I am afraid I let them push me to push her. I take responsibility for that. The biggest mistake I made was that I did not tell Ginger that she was in control, and she could say ‘no’ if things were getting off track and off the rails. I’m afraid that when lurid and inappropriate requests started coming in from her fans, she did not feel confident enough to reject them, and I was too wrapped up in what I was hearing from the other side to back off.”

“You made another mistake that was the worst of all,” Ginger corrected him. “There was no way in the world that he was supposed to ejaculate in that scene – let alone ejaculate on my face on a live stream.”

She evidently did not recognize what was wrong with that last sentence. I bit my tongue.

“She’s right. If I had been able to control myself, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Oh, we’d be having a conversation,” I shot back at him. “Your nuts just might not have been in as much jeopardy as they are now.”

“And that’s what got us to that last shoot,” Ginger picked up. “I was so angry and embarrassed and upset that I told him the next episode would be my last, and that he was going to have to play the sub and feel some pain. We had gotten so far away from our original intentions that there was no way I was going to keep it up – but I wanted to sign off with a different bang than to have my face coated in jizz.”

“If you hadn’t hurt him, he was working his way up to eat you out. What a about that?”

“It was never going to happen. Those messages about hitting him in the nuts were fake. I planned to leave him on the floor.”

Dave looked surprised at that.

“Speaking of which,” I asked him, “how are your nuts.”

“They’re okay. The last shot was the only one that really landed. I was acting for the first two. That last one really nailed me, though.”

We all sat silently for a few moments. Then Dave spoke. “I am sincerely sorry for my part in this, Paul and Ginger. I know you have things to talk about. If it makes this mess any easier to deal with, Ginger’s take on ‘Ginger’s Bedroom’ should be around half a million bucks. Because I feel so bad about the whole thing, I’m also signing over my share, minus expenses, which should be about another $100K. We’ll have some expense buying out of the contracts, but I should be able to manage that from my take.

“With that, unless you have other questions, I’ll leave you sort things out. I’m truly sorry.”

He got up and left.

I looked at my pretty wife, the one I had called “Sweetheart,” with tears in my eyes. Looking at me she teared-up as well.

“Thank you for that explanation. I think I have a clearer understanding of what went on. I only have one more question.” My voice broke. “How could you? Really. How could you have gotten yourself into this and done these things?

“I will never be able to unsee that bastard’s cum all over your face. I will never be able to unsee your mouth around that filthy pornographer’s cock. I will never be able to unsee you masturbating and squirting for the pleasure of a bunch of Eastern European perverts. I will never be able to unsee another man fingering your shaved cunt. I will never be able to look at you without all those images rushing through my head. How could you!”

She broke down then. Her body was wracked by sobs. She tried to talk, but couldn’t. I piled on.

“I have been so proud of the success you made for yourself – I thought for us. You created a successful business, learned how to market and how to sell. You were a rock star, and I was lucky enough to be your husband and your lover. I was the luckiest guy I know. I had it all! Now I have a cum-soaked porn star for a wife and she has half a million cum-soaked dollars to make a new life for herself without me.”

Her head snapped up. “What do you mean without you? You mean you’d leave me over this mistake? It was theater! It was make-believe! Nothing real ever happened! You have to understand and forgive me! I told Dave I was done after that last shoot – before you caught me. I never wanted to be a porn star! I never wanted to be showing my body to perverts! I never wanted that bastard upstairs to cum on me!”

“And yet here we are. And here I sit with that image indelibly burned into my eyes. I have to go. I’ll go to a short-term hotel for a while and try to get my head straight. You need to fly to wherever Ashley is and try to make amends to her, and see if she’ll want to continue with you. You mean you actually thought she’d want her creations modeled on a porn site? Jesus, what a crock.”

She tried to put on a brave face. “And then? Then what for us?”

“I don’t know. Right now, for me there is no ‘us.’ Maybe that will change. Hell, maybe we’ll laugh about this some day. But I’m not there right now. Right now I’m going to pack some clothes and go find someplace to squat for a while.”