Professional Realtor – His Story

The following is a sequel to SlutProblems’ 2019 story, “Professional Realtor Level,” about a wife who not only cheats on her husband, but does so repeatedly with the goal of feeding her clueless husband as much cum as she can.

We know nothing about the woman’s husband in the original story, not even his name. We do know that he hates her “realtor voice,” and that’s about all, so this sequel tells the tale from his perspective. As I read the original, I couldn’t help but wonder how a man married to someone for 15 years could not know his wife was cheating as much as the woman in this story was. This sequel provides one possible explanation.

I would like to thank SlutProblems for graciously giving me permission to write this sequel.

Also, many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. And yes, I do moderate comments.

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper… Remember, this is fiction, not a docu-drama…

…

It was only 8:45 am, but it was already shaping up to be the worst Monday of my entire life. Earlier that morning, I kissed Marissa, my wife of 15 years, on the cheek and wished her a good day. She’s a real estate agent — a damn good one, if her commission and bonus checks are any indication — and has been for most of our entire marriage.

“You have a good day, too,” she said in that fake realtor’s voice she liked to use. She knew I hated it when she used that voice and the fake persona that went along with it. Making it worse was that little smirk she gave me as she looked up at me. It was almost as if she had a secret she was keeping from me.

I got to the office thinking about the work piled up on my desk. I had several reports that needed to get finished before the end of the month, which was coming up in just a couple weeks. As usual, I got to the office at 7:45, put my briefcase down and went to use the men’s room before loading up on coffee.

That’s when it hit me. Standing at the urinal, it felt like I was passing razor blades through my penis. I couldn’t help it — I screamed in agony. My immediate supervisor, Alan Randall, was using a urinal two stalls down from me. He heard me scream, finished his business and zipped up his trousers before coming to check me out.

“Greg, what’s the matter?” he asked, concerned. That’s me, by the way — Greg Watson.

“I feel like I’m on fire,” I said. We looked in the urinal and saw a greenish discharge from my penis. I had never been so disgusted in my life.

“Alright, Greg,” Alan said. “Listen, go get yourself checked out. Let me know what the doctor says.”

“I’ve got all those reports to get finished up,” I groaned.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “I’ll farm them out. You just go get yourself taken care of. If you need to take a few days off, let me know. You’ve got plenty of sick time on the books.”

“Thanks, boss,” I said. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Hey, life happens,” he said with a wry smile, trying to cheer me up. I washed up and went back to my office, where I grabbed my briefcase. On the way out, I told my secretary that I would be out for the next day, maybe more.

I thought about going to my regular doctor, but his office was on the other side of town, and I doubted that I could get in to see him today anyway, so I decided to stop at an Urgi-Care Center just a few blocks from the office.

They took samples from me, and told me to sit in the waiting room while they were being analyzed. It seemed like I had been waiting forever, but in reality, it had only been about a half-hour. Finally, a nurse came out and called my name.

“Greg Watson,” the young woman called. I looked up and saw her beckon to me. She looked at me as though I was an insect. I couldn’t help but wonder why, and got up to follow her. She pointed to an exam room.

“Take a seat, Mr. Watson,” she said in a very unfriendly tone of voice. I sat down and watched as she sat down, looking at the sheet of paper in front of her. She went through the motions of taking my vitals — blood pressure, temperature, that sort of thing. After she wrote it all down, she looked at me.

“The doctor will be with you shortly,” she said before she left the room. A few minutes later, I heard a tapping on the door and an elderly gentleman in a white smock looked inside. Seeing me, he entered the room with a folder and sat down.

“Mr. Watson, I’m Doctor Smith,” he said. “Your preliminary test results are back and it seems you’ve got a pretty nasty case of gonorrhea.”

“Gonorrhea?” I asked, shocked. “How is that possible?”

“It’s a sexually-transmitted disease, Mr. Watson,” he said, looking at me as though I was stupid. “I’m going to put you on an antibiotic and I recommend no sexual activity for seven days after finishing your treatment. If your symptoms continue even after the treatment, I recommend you see your primary care physician.”

He went on to explain that other test were being run and I may not get the results for a couple weeks or more, and then he wanted a list of everyone I had been with recently.

“I’ve only been with one person, sexually, my whole life,” I said. “My wife.” He looked at me, sadly, for a few moments before noting my chart. “But if I got this from her, wouldn’t she show some symptoms as well?”

“Not necessarily, Mr. Watson,” he said. “Even if she does have symptoms, she may mistake them for a bladder or vaginal infection. She should get tested as soon as possible. The longer she waits, the risk of developing serious complications increases. I’m sorry, Mr. Watson.” He handed me a packet containing some pills and had me sign a couple forms.

“Take care, Mr. Watson, and be sure to follow up with your doctor,” he said before leaving. Wonderful, I thought to myself as I went through the check-out procedure. I got to my car and called my boss to give him the news.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Greg,” Alan said. “Don’t worry, discretion is my middle name. You take some time off and come back when you get cleared. I’ve already farmed your reports out, so don’t worry about a thing. Get well.”

“Thanks,” I said as I ended the call. I dreaded making the next call, but I’ve never kept anything from my parents before and I wasn’t about to start now. I hit the speed dial for my parents and heard my father answer the phone.

“Hey son, what’s up?” he asked. “Are you at work?”

“No, Dad, I have a bit of a problem and I need to talk to you and Mom for a bit if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” he said. “Everything alright with the children?”

“As far as I know,” I said. “Listen, I really don’t want to get into this on the phone.”

“Well, come on over and we can talk over a cup of coffee,” he said. We ended the call and I put my phone away before heading out. I suppose I should explain something about my family.

My sister, Denise, and I grew up in a very religious family. Our home was a very happy one, filled with laughter and love. We had very happy childhoods and our parents are very much in love with each other. But we were raised with a fairly strict set of rules. One of those involved sex outside of marriage — a big no-no in my parents’ view.

Because of that, I had never once gone “all the way” with any woman until the day I married Marissa. Sure, I had dated and fooled around a bit, but that was it. I remembered the day I told Marissa I wanted to wait until we got married to have sex. She gave me a huge smile, and kissed me deeply.

“That’s so sweet,” she said. “I promise I’ll rock your world the night we get married.” And she did. I had never felt anything so warm, wet and creamy in my entire life and I couldn’t get enough of her. She didn’t seem to be bothered by my lack of experience, and I enjoyed letting her teach me how to love her the way she liked.

I even grew to enjoy oral sex with her, and she seemed to really enjoy it as well. I knew she wasn’t a virgin when we married, but I didn’t mind, as long as she remained faithful to me once we got married.

She started working for a large real estate office in town and worked to get her license. About a year after we were married, she gave birth to the first of our two daughters — Lisa.

A year after Lisa was born, Ginger came into our lives. Marissa had a terrible time giving birth to Ginger, so she had her tubes tied, telling me that two was enough for any couple. I respected her decision and we moved on. I had hoped for a son, but was more than happy with our two daughters. Naturally, they both became “Daddy’s girls” and they had me wrapped around their little fingers in no time.

Marissa went back to work after her maternity leave was up, and threw herself into her work. Many times, I found myself playing “Mr. Mom” while she worked evenings showing houses or wrapping up paperwork in the office. I didn’t mind, really. I love my girls and happily took care of them when Marissa wasn’t around.

As the girls grew, I found myself spending even more time with them, taking them to whatever extra-curricular activity they were involved with when Marissa was unavailable. Lisa liked music, and took piano and guitar lessons, while Ginger was more athletic, playing softball or soccer.

As time went on, though, I noticed that Marissa was gone more often than not. And it wasn’t just evenings. She was often sent to attend seminars out of town that kept her away on weekends. Then there was the annual company retreat that kept her away for a week at a time. She always called me every night to check up and say hello to the girls, but it just wasn’t enough.

On top of that, she had developed that irritating fake persona that drove me nuts. I had spoken to her about it more than once, but it was clear she wasn’t going to give it up. I also noticed her attitude had changed a bit and wondered if maybe she was spending too much time at work. Even the girls had begun to notice the change in their mother.

But I never thought she would cheat on me. She knows how I feel about infidelity. I finally found myself at my parents house, and pulled into the driveway. Dad met me at the door with a hearty bear hug and slapped me on the shoulder.

“Coffee’s just finished. C’mon in, let’s sit and talk,” he said. I walked into the dining room and gave Mom a hug before we sat down. Mom poured our coffee and I added a splash of butter pecan creamer. Dad did the same and we took a sip.

“Why don’t we start with a prayer?” Dad asked. Of course. I was used to that by now. That was the way they handled everything. First there was prayer, then the discussion. We prayed for a few minutes, then got into it.

“What happened, son?” Dad asked.

“I just came from the Urgi-Care clinic. I’ve got gonorrhea,” I said.

“Oh my,” Dad said quietly. That was one of the things I admired about him. He could handle just about anything, as long as it was the truth. “Have you been fooling around?” he asked after a few awkward moments.

“No, Dad, never,” I told him. “Marissa’s the only woman I’ve ever been with.” He nodded his head.

“I believe you, son,” he said. “I just wanted to hear it from you.”

“So what do you plan to do?” Mom asked.

“I don’t see that I have any other choice but to divorce her over this,” I said.

“It’s going to be hard on the girls,” she said.

“Yes, but they’re old enough to understand,” I said. “Besides, there’s no way I can put this behind me. Even if she says she won’t do it again, there’s no way I can trust her to keep her word.”

“Do you have any idea how long this has been going on?” Dad asked.

“No, none. I just learned it was happening this morning with… this,” I said.

“Well, adultery is a valid reason for divorce,” he said. “I hate to see it happen, but I don’t really see any other way around it. Hang on a second,” he added as he stood up and headed for his office. I looked at Mom, who seemed devastated by what was going on.

“I’m so sorry this happened, Greg,” she said. “I always thought Marissa was a wonderful girl.”

“I did too, Mom,” I said. “I guess she had us all fooled.” By then, Dad returned with his Rolodex. He rifled through the cards until he found the one he was looking for. He pulled it out triumphantly.

“Here it is,” he said. “You know Gina Hawkins?”

“Yeah, she goes to our church, right?” I asked.

“Yeah, she’s a family law attorney. Let me give her a call,” he said. I wasn’t surprised that he had her card. Being one of the deacons at the church, Dad had a bunch of cards he had been given by members of the church. As I watched, he called Gina’s office and I could hear him speaking to what I assumed was her receptionist. Finally, he was put through to her office line and I could hear his side of the conversation.

“Gina, hi, this is Dan Watson… Yeah, from church… We’re doing well here, thanks. How about you? Good… Listen, I was wondering if you could work my son in sometime soon. He’s got a little problem and I think you may be able to help him… Oh, really? This afternoon? 12:30? Wonderful! I’ll make sure he gets there… Thanks, Gina, I owe you one… Sure, take care of yourself and give that little one of yours a big hug for us, okay? Bye bye.” He hung up the phone and looked at me.

“That was Gina and she said she had a cancellation and can fit you in at 12:30 this afternoon,” he told me. “She says you need to bring in your financial records and your tax returns from the last two years.”

“Okay,” I said. “I guess I’d better get to the house so I can get my stuff together.”

“Sounds like a plan, son,” Dad said. “You know you’re gonna have to tell Marissa about the STD. She’ll need to be tested as well before she spreads it any further than she already has.”

“Maybe the girls should stay with us for a while,” Mom said. “It’s probably going to get a bit uncomfortable in the house with all this going on.”

“You’re right,” Dad said. “Maybe they should stay for a few days until things get ironed out. Look son, why don’t you bring the girls by after they get home from school. We’ll make sure they get to school on time.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Dad,” I said. We talked for a few more minutes, then I got up to leave. Dad hugged me at the door.

“Everything will work out, son,” he said. “Just don’t do anything stupid. I know you probably want to lash out and get revenge on Marissa, and I don’t blame you for that. But remember Romans 12:19. ‘Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’ Got it? I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail. You have two girls to think about.” I chuckled at that.

“No problems, Dad. I got it,” I told him. I got back in my car and headed home. Dad was right about one thing. I wanted vengeance, against Marissa and her lover — or lovers. I had loved her exclusively for more than 15 years and was more than a bit upset that this was how she repaid me.

I got home and started going through my files to get my old tax returns. I also had to dig through Marissa’s stuff to get her returns as well. About eight years ago, she said she wanted to file separate returns, claiming it would keep us from paying more taxes than necessary. I went along with her idea and thought nothing more of it.

When I pulled out her tax forms, I learned the real reason she wanted to file separately. It turned out she had made a lot more in bonuses and commissions than I realized. I knew how much she had deposited in the joint bank account, so I wondered where all the extra money went.

Digging deeper, I found a folder containing bank statements. I noticed they were from a bank we didn’t use. Looking at the most recent statement, I saw she had managed to set aside nearly a million dollars over the last eight years. What was she planning, I asked myself. Was this her exit strategy? Did she plan to leave after the kids left for college? I took the statements along with her tax forms and added them to my folder.

I got in the car and started to head out when my phone buzzed, letting me know I had a text message. It was a message from Marissa, telling me she had a late showing and not to wait for dinner. Yeah, right, I thought.

“No problem,” I texted back. “See you when you get home.” I sent the message wondering if she noticed I didn’t tell her I loved her. Oh, well, I thought. I got to Gina’s office building, parked the car and headed to her suite. When I got there, I was greeted by an attractive blonde receptionist.

“I’m here to see Gina Hawkins,” I said. “I have a 12:30 appointment.” She looked on her computer for a moment, then smiled and escorted me to Gina’s office. Gina stood and we shook hands.

“Good to see you, Greg,” she said with a smile. “Would you care for some coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” I said. “Please.” Gina looked at the receptionist.

“Could you please bring two cups? And some butter pecan creamer?” Gina asked.

“Of course,” the receptionist said before leaving. She returned a few moments later with two cups and some small pods filled with creamer. Gina motioned for me to sit and I did.

“I was surprised to hear from your father this morning,” Gina said. “So, you have a problem that needs my assistance?”

“Yes, it seems Marissa has been cheating on me,” I said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gina replied. “I thought you two were the real deal.”

“I thought so too, but I guess not.”

“So, why don’t you tell me what happened?” Gina asked. I told her about our marriage, ending with my trip to the clinic this morning and the bank statements I found earlier today.

“Well, I can understand how you might feel,” Gina said. “Let me explain a bit about divorce in this state. You see, divorce isn’t about justice. It’s all about money. Specifically, how much you have and how much of it your wife’s lawyer can get from you. Although this is a no-fault state, you can file on the grounds of adultery, but you need to have very compelling evidence.”

“What about the STD she gave me?” I asked.

“I agree that sounds very compelling, but her attorney could easily argue that you got it from another woman,” Gina said. “You and I both know that wouldn’t be true, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is what the judge believes. As for the money she socked away, she could easily argue that it was intended as a retirement surprise.”

“You don’t believe that for a minute, though, do you?” I asked.

“No, I don’t. It sounds like an exit strategy to me. She’s obviously waiting for the best time to make her move. I’d guess she’s waiting for the girls to graduate high school so she won’t be saddled with them. Again, that’s going to be hard to prove in court.”

“So I’m just out of luck. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No, not at all,” she said. “I happen to have a private investigator on retainer and I can get him on the case as early as this afternoon if you wish. If she is playing around, we’ll catch her. Do you want to go that route? It can be fairly expensive, but at least you’ll have evidence we can use in court.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” I said.

“Alright,” she said. “Get me all the information you can — make and model of her car, license plates, that sort of thing. Any idea where she might be?”

“Hold on a second,” I said, pulling out my phone. “I installed a phone finder app when she misplaced her cell a few months back. Let me see if it’s still running.” I opened the app and ran a search. According to this, her phone was at a house in the north part of town. I showed Gina the address and she wrote it down.

“Alright, let me get my PI on this,” she said, grabbing her phone. As I waited, she spoke to her PI and emailed him the information I gave her. She ended the call and looked at me. “Alright, that’s done. If there’s anything going on, we’ll know soon enough. Now, on to business. I understand you have two teenage daughters, is that right?”

“Yes. Lisa and Ginger. Lisa is 14 and Ginger is 13.”

“Not quite old enough to decide which parent they want to stay with, but close. Do you want to push for custody?”

“Yes, I do,” I told her.

“Alright. Just so you know, the courts usually give primary custody to the mother. It may take some doing, but we can try. Who is the primary caretaker?” she asked.

“I am, since Marissa is usually gone many evenings,” I told her.

“Just curious, are you 100 percent certain they’re your children?”

“I believe they are. Does it really matter at this point? My name is on the birth certificates, I’m the one who raised them, changed their diapers. I’m the one that’s been paying to take care of them.”

“I see your point,” she said. “Still, it might be nice to know for certain one way or the other. I’ll give you the name and address of a lab where you can pick up a test kit. They’re usually pretty fast.”

“Alright,” I said.

“Now, what about your home? Are you buying or renting?”

“Neither,” I said. “The home used to belong to my grandparents. After they died it went into a family trust put in my parents’ name. They let us live there.”

“Okay, so no mortgage to deal with. Good,” she said. “I’m sure there’s some items in the house that will need to be divided. Generally speaking, joint assets like bank accounts and so on are split 50/50. I’ll give you a checklist of things to do when we’re done here.”

“Okay. Is there anything else?” I asked.

“Not at this time,” she said. “I’ll start the paperwork, but let’s see what my PI comes up with before we proceed much further. Go ahead and complete the checklist anyway.”

“Do you think I should go ahead and confront her?” I asked.

“It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. At least let her know she needs to get tested for STDs. That way, you won’t be liable in case she spreads it any further.”

“Makes sense,” I said. She wrapped up her paperwork and handed me a checklist along with a card that had the name of a lab. “Anything else?” I asked.

“That’s about it for now,” she said. “Go ahead and take care of that. We’ll let you know if and when we hear from the investigator. You can see my receptionist about the retainer. And Greg?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll get through this. It won’t be fun, but things will get better.”

“I know,” I said. “Thanks for all your help.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “We’ll be in touch.” With that, I left, wrote a check for the retainer and headed to the lab. Once I got the kit, I went to the bank and checked off most of what Gina had written. Then I went home.

I guess this is where most guys would probably sit down and get drunk as a skunk, agonizing over the whats and whys of a situation like this. I didn’t, though. Sure, it hurt — I had never felt hurt and betrayal like this in my life. But I don’t drink — never have. That was another rule I grew up with. My parents never drank and neither did I.

I did make a pot of coffee, though, and sat down with a cup when it was finished. But I didn’t have much time to dwell on the situation since my two angels came barging through the door. They usually got home around this time after the bus dropped them off. But they usually don’t see me when they get home.

“Dad, you’re home,” Lisa said. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, Dad, why are you home so early?” Ginger asked.

“Been a pretty hectic day,” I told them. “Listen, why don’t the two of you go up and pack enough stuff to last for a couple days. You’ll be staying with your grandparents for a bit.”

“Why, Dad?” Ginger asked. “What’s going on? Is there something wrong with Mom? Did you guys have a fight?”

“Actually, yes, there is something wrong, and no, your mother and I did not have a fight. I’m afraid that may come later,” I told them.

“You caught her cheating, didn’t you?” Lisa asked. I looked at her, shocked. What did she know?

“What makes you ask that?” I asked her. She looked down for a bit, embarrassed.

“I heard her a couple times talking to someone on her phone,” Lisa said. “I couldn’t make it all out, but she was using that fake voice of hers. You know, the one she uses to rile you up.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. “What did you hear?”

“Something like, ‘can’t wait to see you again, lover.’ Like I said, I didn’t hear it all, and she was giggling like a little girl. But it didn’t sound like a professional call at all. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I know how you hate gossip,” she said.

“That’s alright,” I said, giving her a hug.

“Plus, well, she’s been acting pretty weird lately,” Lisa said. “Like she doesn’t have any time or desire to talk to us.”

“You feel the same way?” I asked, looking at Ginger. She nodded her head.

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s like she doesn’t want to be bothered by us or something.”

“Well, you two can bother me any time you want,” I said, giving them both a hug. “First, though, I need to get a cheek swab from both of you.”

“A cheek swab?” Ginger asked as I opened the test kit.

“Yeah,” I said. “My lawyer said I should get a DNA test.”

“You don’t think we’re really your children?” Lisa asked.

“I do,” I told her. “But she wants to make sure.”

“So, are you getting a divorce?” Lisa asked.

“It looks that way,” I told her.

“There’s no way you can get past whatever she did?” Ginger asked.

“I don’t think so,” I told her. “She gave me a little… gift, you might say. Had to see a doctor this morning.”

“Oh, sh… oot,” Lisa said, almost letting loose with a four-letter word. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“That’s okay, sweetheart, I’ve felt like cussing more than once today,” I told her. “Now, let me get these samples from you.” I took one swab and wiped the inside of Lisa’s cheek, then did the same for Ginger. After I had their samples in the kit, I took a sample from my cheek and placed it in its own vial.

“Alright, you two go up and get enough to last you a couple nights. We need to be outta here in 15 minutes. And don’t forget your homework,” I said. They headed off to their rooms and packed while I put the test kit together. My plan was to take the kids to their grandparents’ house, then take the kit back to the lab.

“Dad, if you do get a divorce, can I stay with you?” Lisa asked as I drove.

“Yeah, me too,” Ginger added.

“I hope so, girls,” I said. “I’m asking for custody, but you should know the courts usually give custody to the mother.”

“I don’t want to stay with her,” Lisa said. “Right now, I hate her for what she’s done to us.” I thought about telling her not to hate her mother, but thought better of it. She was only expressing the same thing I was thinking.

“I understand how you feel, sweetheart,” I said. “Just remember, no matter what happens, I’ll always love you and I’ll always be there for you.”

“I love you too, Daddy,” she said as tears fell down her face. Seeing her cry made me even angrier at Marissa than I was before. I swore to make her pay for this.

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,” I heard my father say in my mind.

We finally got to my parents’ house and I pulled into the driveway. I turned to them and gave them each a hug and a kiss and promised to call later. After the kids got out we all went to the porch where Dad was waiting. The girls hugged him and took their things inside. I gave him a hug and Mom came over to say hello.

“I’d better get to the lab before it gets too late,” I said.

“Are you alright?” Dad asked.

“I’m as okay as I can be under the circumstances.”

“Alright, we’ll be praying for you. Call us and let us know how everything went with Marissa,” he said.

“I will, but I’m not too sure when that will be,” I said.

“That’s okay, hun,” Mom said. “You can call any time.”

“Thanks,” I told her before giving her a hug. “I’d better be off.” I got back in the car and headed for the lab. I got there about a half-hour before they closed for the day and gave my test kit to the receptionist.

“How long before I get the results?” I asked.

“We should be able to get them to you before the end of the week,” she said with a smile.

“Perfect, thanks,” I said. I left and headed to the house. On the way, I decided to call Loretta, Marissa’s older sister. I put the Bluetooth earpiece in and hit the speed-dial on my phone. She answered after the second ring.

“Hey Greg, how’s my favorite brother-in-law?” she asked.

“Been better,” I said. “Got a question for you if you have a minute.”

“Sure,” she said.

“Have you talked to Marissa lately?”

“Not since we were over at your place last month,” she said. “Is everything alright?”

“No, it’s not,” I said. She listened quietly as I gave her the Reader’s Digest version of what was going on.

“Oh my God,” she said. “I hate to say it, Greg, but it sounds like she’s reverted back to her old habits.”

“Old habits? What do you mean?” I asked.

“She was pretty wild when she was younger. Went through boyfriends like most people go through socks. Cheated on pretty much every guy she was with. She was like that through most of high school and college. After she met you, she calmed down and I thought she was finished with all that. She told me she had met her soul mate and was through playing the field, so I didn’t say anything to you. I’m sorry, I probably should’ve told you.”

“No that’s alright,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I take it you plan to kick her out tonight, and you were wondering if she could stay here with us.”

“Actually, I was,” I said. “If that’s okay with you.” I could hear her sigh on the phone.

“I guess she can stay here for a while, at least until she gets her act together,” she said. “Frank won’t be too happy about it, though.”

“I don’t want it to cause you guys any problems,” I told her.

“That’s okay, he’ll deal with it, so long as she’s not here too long.”

“Okay, thanks, I appreciate it. I don’t know when she’ll be home tonight, but I’ll give you a call when she leaves.”

“Thanks,” she said. “How are the girls taking it?”

“They’re not happy, but they’re doing better than I thought they would.”

“You raised a couple of good young women there, Greg. You need to be strong for them,” she said.

“I’m trying,” I said.

“Well, I’d better get going. I still have dinner to fix. Call me later, okay?”

“I will,” I told her before we ended the call. I got home and decided to warm up some leftover meatloaf for dinner. I had just finished watching the evening news when my phone buzzed. I saw it was a call from Gina, so I answered.

“Hey, Greg,” she said when I answered. I looked at the clock and saw it was just after 6:30.

“Hey yourself,” I said. “Working late tonight?”

“For you, yes,” she said. “I just got some preliminary information from the PI. Seems your wife has been a busy girl. She’s been with three men since 1:00 this afternoon.” Wow, I thought. Three men in one afternoon? When does she ever get any work done?

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Anyway, I’m forwarding the info to your email. Pictures, video and a synopsis of the report. I’d recommend you not watch the video, but you should listen to the last few minutes. Pretty eye-opening stuff.”

I had seen porn before, when I was in college. Some of my classmates were into it, and they had shared it with me.

“So, you have enough evidence for the divorce now?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “Call me when you’re finished listening to the audio, okay?”

“Okay, thanks, Gina,” I said when we ended the call. I fired up my laptop and checked my email. Sure enough, there was an email from Gina with some attachments. I took a deep breath and opened the pictures. There were four of them showing Marissa with different men in various positions.

In one photo, she was on all fours as the man behind her was plowing her rear end. I never knew she was into anal sex, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. Another photo showed her naked, her legs spread with semen dripping from her well-used vagina. I thought I was going to be sick to my stomach.

I opened the video and cued it up to the point Gina said in her email. I had no desire to watch video of her having sex, but I was curious to hear what she had to say. I started the video and saw Marissa sitting on a large bed, presumably in one of the houses she was “showing.” She wore a robe but I could tell she had nothing on underneath. Next to her was a large muscular man.

“That was fantastic, babe,” he said with a smile. “No one’s ever given me a blowjob like that before.”

“Well thank you, kind sir,” she said, smiling back. “And I must say, you’re very well-equipped.” He chuckled back in response.

“I see you’re married,” he said, pointing to her rings.

“For the moment,” she said. “I noticed you’re married as well,” she added, looking at his ring.

“Yeah, my wife and I have an open marriage,” he said. “What about you?”

“It’s not an open marriage like yours, but I take liberties when they arise,” she said.

“So your husband doesn’t know?” he asked.

“No, he doesn’t,” she said. “He has no clue what kind of a slut he’s married to.” I do now, you lying whore, I thought to myself.

“What’s the matter? Doesn’t he get the job done at home?” the man asked.

“He’d better, since I taught him everything he knows,” she told him.

“You taught him?” the man asked, shocked. “What, was he a virgin when you two got married?”

“Believe it or not, he was,” she said. “Imagine, a 23-year-old virgin. He’s a religious freak. Comes from a family of religious freaks. Doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink. Hell, he doesn’t even cuss. He’d probably go into vapor lock if I said ‘fuck’ around him. He didn’t even know how to fuck until we got married.”

“Damn,” the man said. “Sounds like a fucking loser. Why do you stay with him, then? Do you love him?”

“In a way, I guess I do, at least a little bit. He’s a good father to my girls. Takes good care of them. Doesn’t bitch when I’m late coming home. Other than that, he’s a complete fucking bore,” she said.

“Are the girls his?” he asked. She shrugged her shoulders.

“I honestly don’t know. Maybe. Frankly, I don’t care. He thinks they’re his and that’s all that matters,” she said.

“How long have you been screwing around on him, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I don’t mind,” she said. “Hell, I’ve been fucking around my whole married life.”

“And he never caught on?”

“Nope. Has no clue. He’s never been with another woman so he wouldn’t even know the difference. Almost every night I come home with a load or two of cum for him to play in. I just tell him I’m so excited thinking about him and he believes me.”

“So he gets sloppy seconds and creampies and doesn’t even know it?”

“That’s about it,” she said. I had to resist the urge to vomit at this point. It made me sick to my stomach to think that she’d been doing this to me the whole time we had been married.

“You plan to stay with him?”

“Yeah, for now. At least until the girls finish high school and head off to college,” she said. “That’s about four or five years down the road. By then, I’ll have everything in place to make my escape.”

“Why wait?” he asked.

“Because courts usually give custody to the mother and the last thing I want is to be saddled with two teenage girls,” she said.

“What do you plan to do afterward?”

“I plan to celebrate. Maybe with a gangbang or two. I haven’t done that in years. Maybe I’ll take a cruise or retire to Costa Rica or something. I don’t know,” she said.

“Maybe I can arrange a gangbang before you drop the hammer,” he said. “Would you be interested?”

“Oh hell yeah,” she said.

“Think you can get away for a weekend?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I can tell Greg I have a mandatory weekend seminar or something. He’ll believe anything I tell him.”

“Excellent,” he said. “I have several friends who’d love to get a taste of your pussy. Let me know when you can get away and we’ll make it happen. You have my number.”

“I’ll do that,” she said with a smile. He looked at his watch.

“It’s getting late and I need to head out. I look forward to seeing you again, sweet thing.”

“I look forward to it myself,” she said. He left the room and Marissa laid back on the bed with a huge smirk on her face.

“Oh, Greg,” she said to the now-empty room. “You have no fucking idea what’s coming your way.” I ended the video and wiped the tears now streaming down my face. I had no idea she was so… evil. I took a breath and dialed Gina’s number.

“I just finished with the video,” I said. “You were right… It was.. eye-opening.”

“So, how do you want me to proceed?” she asked.

“Burn her to the ground,” I said firmly.

“Consider it done,” she said.

“What about all the guys she’s been with?” I asked. “Can we go after them as well?”

“Afraid not,” she said. “Alienation of affection suits aren’t permitted in this state anymore. Don’t worry. I have a feeling things won’t be going too well for them when their wives end up getting a dose of gonorrhea.”

“Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord,” I said quietly, repeating what Dad told me earlier. Gina chuckled at that.

“Well, I’d better get going,” she said. “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up and have her served this week. She wants an escape — we’ll give her one. It just won’t be the way she wanted.”

“Thanks, Gina, I owe you one,” I said.

“My pleasure. Just take good care of your girls,” she said. We ended the call and I sat back on the couch, tears falling down my face. It hurt to think I had given Marissa 15 of the best years of my life. After a few minutes, my phone buzzed again — it was a call from Marissa.

“Hello,” I said when I answered.

“Hey, Greg,” she said. “Are you alright? You don’t sound too good.”

“Been a bad day,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“I’m wrapping things up here. I think I made another sale,” she said.

“Good,” I said in a neutral tone of voice.

“I’ll be leaving here in just a bit, so I should be home in a half-hour, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I told her.

“Alright, I’ll see you when I get home. Love you,” she said in her fake voice.

“Me too,” I said, ending the call. I wondered if she noticed that I didn’t specifically tell her I loved her, then realized I didn’t care if she noticed or not. I printed out the four pictures, putting them all on the same sheet of paper and put it into a folder. I intended to confront her tonight when she got home.

I put everything together on the kitchen table, then made a cup of coffee and sat down to wait for Marissa to get home. I waited and waited. An hour later, she still hadn’t shown up, but I figured she probably got hung up somewhere, so I continued waiting.

Two hours later, she still hadn’t shown up, and I was getting a bit worried. I called her cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I left a message and sent her a text, but didn’t hear back. Three hours later, there was still nothing. I began to wonder if maybe she had gotten into an accident.

Nearly three and a half hours later, I got a call on the house phone. I picked it up, hoping it was her. It wasn’t.

“Greg Watson,” I said when I answered the phone.

“Mr. Watson, this is Angela Barnes from Mercy Hospital. Are you related to a Marissa Watson?”

“She’s my wife,” I said. Not for long, though…

“Mr. Watson, your wife was in an accident and was brought here for treatment. Can you get here as soon as possible?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Is she okay? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give you that information,” Angela said. “Her doctor would like to speak with you. When you get here, just ask tell the courtesy desk and they’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” I said. She ended the call and I wondered what happened. I put the paper with the photos in an envelope and crammed it in my jacket pocket. I thought about calling Dad or Loretta, but decided to wait until I had more information. I jumped in the car and headed out.

I got to the hospital and went inside. Walking to the courtesy counter, I identified myself to the middle-aged lady behind the desk and gave her my wife’s name as the patient. She looked Marissa up on her computer and turned to another lady next to her.

“Could you please escort Mr. Watson to the ICU, please?” she asked.

“Sure,” the other woman said before looking at me. She came around the counter and indicated that I should follow her, so I did. We went upstairs to the ICU and I was met by a uniformed police officer.

“Mr. Watson?” he asked.

“That’s me,” I said.

“I’m Officer Simpson. I’m the one who responded to the report of your wife’s accident,” he said.

“What happened?” I asked.

“She was going through the intersection of Third and Main when she was hit by a truck. The other driver was drunk, ran a red light and struck her vehicle on the driver’s side. I’m sorry,” he said.

“That’s alright,” I said.

“Her car has been taken to a wrecking yard. There’s not a whole lot left of it,” he said, handing me a card for the wrecking company. “If there’s anything I can do, feel free to call.”

“Thank you, officer,” I said, taking his card. After he left, a man in a white medical smock came up to me.

“Greg Watson?” he asked.

“Yes?” I asked.

“I’m Doctor Blake. I’m the physician in charge of your wife’s treatment. Can we speak for a bit, please?”

“Sure,” I said. He led me to a small room, closed the door and sat at a chair in front of a small round table. I sat in another chair across from him. “How is my wife?” I asked.

“She’s got a number of broken bones and there were quite a few internal injuries. She also took a pretty bad blow to the head. We’ve got her in a medically-induced coma to help her heal. There’s something else, though. Did you know your wife has gonorrhea?”

“Yes, I found out the hard way this morning,” I said.

“And I take it you’re getting treated for that?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. But that’s not all. Our initial tests indicate she might be HIV-positive. We’ve sent for a full workup on her blood, but it’ll take several days, if not weeks, to get results back. Have you been tested for HIV?”

“Not that I know of,” I said. “They took blood when I went to the Urgi-Care this morning, but I don’t know if they tested for that.”

“I suggest you see your primary care physician as soon as possible. Tomorrow would be good. The sooner you get tested, the better. If either or both of you do test positive, you should discuss it with your doctor. Generally speaking, as long as you practice safe sex and take your medications, you should still be able to have a fairly normal sex life,” he said.

“That’s not going to happen, doc,” I said.

“I… see,” he said.

“How long will she be in a coma?” I asked.

“That depends on her,” he said. “It could be ten days to two weeks. Depending on how fast she heals, she could be here a while after that.”

“Can I see her now?” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “She could really use your support right about now.” I chuckled to myself at that. He got up and opened the door. “She’s in room five, right over there,” he added, pointing to her door.

“Thanks, doctor,” I said, shaking his hand. I walked in to her room and looked at her. She was covered in bandages and a cast covered one leg all the way to her hip. Her face was black and blue and there were several cuts that had been stitched up. She looked like she had been through a war zone. I offered a prayer for her, then slipped off my ring.

I pulled out the envelope with the pictures and wrote her name on the front. Then I put my ring inside and sealed it shut. I looked at the nurse tending to her.

“Could you please see to it that she gets this when she wakes up?” I asked.

“Of course,” the nurse said. “Go ahead and put it on the tray right over there,” she added, pointing to an empty wheeled tray.

“Thanks,” I said, placing it on the tray so Marissa could see it. I took one last look at the woman on the bed. As much as I hated what she had done, I didn’t want to see her like this. I saw she still had her rings on, so I removed them and put them in my pocket. “Goodbye, Marissa,” I said quietly. “I’ll see you later.” The nurse looked at me funny as I walked out of the room.

I called Loretta on my way home from the hospital to bring her up to speed on everything. She was shocked when I told her what happened and what the doctor told me.

“Greg, you know Frank won’t let her stay here if she’s HIV-positive,” she said. “I know it’ll be safe, but he won’t want her around the kids. I can’t go against him on that.” Her parents had retired a few years ago and had moved to Florida, so that was out of the question.

“I guess I’ll need to find her an apartment then,” I said.

“I think that would be best,” she said. “I’m sorry, Greg, but I’m not going to put her over my family. She made her bed, she can wallow in it for all I care. When you find something, I’ll help you move her things, but then I’m washing my hands of her.”

“I understand,” I said. “I don’t blame you.”

“It’s getting late and I need to go to bed, but keep me in the loop, Greg,” she said.

“I will,” I told her. “Thanks.”

It was nearly midnight when I got home. Exhausted, I undressed and collapsed in the bed, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke up the next morning and called the doctor’s office to make an appointment for later that day. I was mildly surprised when they told me they had an opening for later that morning. Then I called my parents and filled them in on what had happened. They were shocked to hear of her accident, and the possibility she might be HIV-positive, but said they would take the girls to the hospital if they wanted to see her.

I also told them about the evidence I had been given. Dad asked me to forward it to his email address.

“It’s pretty bad,” I told him.

“That’s okay, son,” he said. “I’m a big boy.” After I forwarded the email, I called Gina to update her. She was also shocked, but said that would give her time to “fine-tune” the divorce papers. Then I called Marissa’s office to let them know about her accident. They gave me their condolences and promised to stop by and see her.

The next two weeks were hectic ones. I managed to find a two-bedroom ground-floor apartment with an attached garage, so I put a deposit on it and paid two months worth of rent in advance — all from Marissa’s half of our account. The girls and Loretta came by and helped pack all of Marissa’s things, including our wedding album, and we took them to the apartment.

I also got the report from the DNA lab and was happy to learn that both girls really are mine. I couldn’t help but smile at that. I met with the insurance man and he looked over Marissa’s car. I couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to survive the accident. The insurance man said the same thing. He ended up totaling the car. Since the car and the insurance policy was in her name, she would get the check. I pulled her stuff out of the car and took it to her apartment.

“Have you been by to see Marissa?” Mom asked a week after her accident.

“No, I haven’t,” I said. “At least not since that first day. Why?”

“I was just wondering,” she said.

“She made it pretty clear she doesn’t care for any of us and wants an escape. I’m giving her what she wants. Just not on her timetable,” I said.

Two weeks after that fateful Monday, I went to see the doctor. I had been cleared of the gonorrhea Marissa had given me, but the doctor was still waiting to see if she had also given me something worse. The pain in my groin had dissipated to almost nothing, but the emotional pain I felt in my heart would take a very long time to heal. I called Alan and told him I would be back to work the next day, which made him quite happy.

That same day, I got a call from the hospital telling me Marissa had finally woken up from her induced coma. The nurse who called said they were taking tests and examining her and suggested I come see her late that afternoon. That worked fine for me.

I called Gina and told her the news. She had filed the divorce papers with the court, and we were both waiting for Marissa to wake up so she could be served. She arranged to have the process server meet me at the hospital that afternoon. My next call was to Loretta, who agreed to meet me at her room. I told the girls their mother had woken up, but they simply shrugged their shoulders, saying, “whatever.”

“I’m going to see her this afternoon. Do you want to come with me?” I asked them.

“No, thanks, Dad,” Lisa said. “I’m too mad at her right now.”

“Me too,” Ginger said. “Besides, I have a lot of homework to do.”

“Alright. I’ll take you over to your grandparents when I leave, then,” I said. I knew this would be harder on them than me, and I didn’t want to force them to see their mother if they didn’t want to. About 4:30, I took them to Mom and Dad’s house and explained that Marissa had woken up and I would be meeting Loretta and the process server there.

“Let us know how it goes, son,” Dad said.

“I will,” I said. “I’ll be back by to get the girls when I’m done.”

“Good, then you can eat some of your mother’s lasagna when you get here,” he said with a smile. Mom’s lasagna was the stuff of legend, and was guaranteed to lift my spirits.

“Sounds good,” I said before I left. When I got to the hospital, I went to the ward where Marissa was being cared for. I saw Loretta by the nurse’s station, talking to the doctor and I spotted a man in a tan jacket not too far away, holding a manila envelope. No doubt, the process server. I went to the nurse’s station and spoke to the doctor.

“How is she,” I asked.

“She’s awake, and her vitals look good,” he said. “The antibiotics we had her on have done their work, and we’re just keeping an eye on things. She seems to be healing up nicely. Nevertheless, I want to keep her here for another week, but I think she can go home after that.”

“Good,” I said. “Can she have visitors?”

“Yes, but not for too long,” he said.

“I won’t be here long,” I told him. He nodded his head in understanding. Loretta and I headed for her room and the process server joined us. Marissa looked up when we walked in. I saw that she had opened the envelope I left the first day here.

“Hello, Greg. Loretta,” she said quietly.

“Marissa,” I said in response. Loretta said nothing. Marissa looked at me sadly before speaking.

“I take it you’ve found out,” she said, pointing to the envelope.

“I have,” I told her.

“So, did you have me followed or something? How did you find out?” she asked.

“You gave me your disease,” I said. “That’s how I found out. And yes, I had you followed after that. I have pictures, video and audio. More than enough to prove adultery.” I looked at the process server and nodded my head. He looked at Marissa before speaking.

“Are you Marissa Watson?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said quietly. He handed her the envelope and took a picture.

“You’ve been served,” he said before walking out.

“You couldn’t even wait until I was out of the hospital to have me served?” Marissa asked.

“Nope,” I said. “You’re the one who wanted to escape. I just moved your timetable up a few years.”

“Do the girls know?” she asked in response.

“Yes, they do,” I told her. “And they’re not too fond of you right now. That’s why they’re not here. And you don’t have to worry about being ‘saddled’ with them. I’m asking for full custody. I’ll give you liberal visitation rights, provided they want to see you. Right now, though, they don’t want anything to do with you. I don’t blame them. One bit.” She looked at me, shocked that I had used her own language against her.

“And I take you hate me as well,” she said.

“Hate’s a pretty strong word,” I said. “Let’s just say I don’t think very highly of you anymore.” She nodded her head.

“Do you think you can forgive me?” she asked.

“Maybe one day, when I can look at my girls and not see the pain and anguish on their faces anymore. Pain and anguish you caused, by the way. And for the record, the girls ARE mine. I had DNA tests done on them.”

“So, where will I go when they release me?” she asked.

“I’ve arranged an apartment for you. Loretta agreed to take you there when you get released.” Marissa looked at her older sister when I said that. “All your stuff has been moved in and the utilities are in your name.” I pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “That’s your half of our joint accounts minus the deposit and two month’s rent on your apartment. Your car has been totaled, so you’ll get a check for that as well.” She took the envelope and nodded her head.

“By the way, I also know about your little ‘escape’ fund. My lawyer put a freeze on that account. If you sign the papers, she’ll release the funds. Minus my half, of course,” I said. She looked at me, shocked that I found her nest egg.

“I’ll fight you for that,” she said.

“I don’t think that would be very wise,” I told her. “Unless, of course, you want the evidence I have to be made public. It’s pretty… graphic.” She deflated after I said that. “Have your lawyer look the papers over. I’m sure you’ll find them to be as fair as possible under the circumstances. Then sign them so we can end this sham of a marriage.” Marissa looked at Loretta, hoping her sister would stand up for her, but that didn’t happen.

“You stupid bitch,” Loretta hissed. “I warned you years ago that you would get burned if you didn’t get yourself under control. You didn’t just lie to your husband and your kids. You lied to me when you told me you had put all that crap behind you. I promised Greg I would take you to your apartment when they released you, but that’s it. After that, I’m done with you.”

“What?” Marissa asked, tears falling down her face. I knew how close they were and I knew this was hard on the older sibling.

“You heard me, you stupid, lying cunt,” Loretta said. “After I drop you off at your apartment, I don’t ever want to see your skanky ass ever again, until you get your shit together. You hear me?” Sobbing, Marissa nodded her head.

“I’m sorry,” she cried.

“That and a five dollar bill might buy you a cup of coffee,” Loretta said. “I’m serious. I don’t want you around my family until you get your head outta your ass. And you can start by apologizing to your husband and your girls.” Teary-eyed, Marissa looked at me.

“I’m so sorry, Greg,” she said. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe you,” I said. “Sign the papers, Marissa. End it now.” She nodded her head, saying nothing. “Goodbye, Marissa.” I started to leave, but she spoke before I got to the door.

“Can I call the girls, Greg? Please?” she asked.

“You can call anytime you want,” I told her. “I can’t guarantee they’ll talk to you, though.”

“I understand,” she said quietly. “Thank you for that at least.”

“You’re welcome,” I said before turning away from her. As I walked through the ward, I saw the nasty looks from the nurses. No doubt, they didn’t approve of me serving her with divorce papers in the hospital. Too bad, I thought. I drove to my parents’ house and drowned my sorrows in an extra-large helping of Mom’s lasagna.

…

Epilogue:

The divorce went through without a hitch. Three months later, I was a free man, in more ways than one. Not only was I free of Marissa, I had also learned that I had dodged a bullet and was HIV-negative. Oddly enough, Marissa’s tests also came back negative.

Gina handed me a check for just over $450,000.00 — half of the money Marissa had in her secret account. I really didn’t need all that, so I placed it into two accounts for the girls’ college education.

Life went on for the three of us. Lisa and Ginger were my main reason for living these days. Sure, there were times when things were a bit strained. It’s not easy being a single dad with two teenage girls. But I managed, with my Mom’s help and guidance.

I didn’t keep tabs on Marissa, but the girls told me she was adjusting to her new life as a single divorced woman. Yes, they had finally spoken to their mother, and she apologized profusely to them. It had taken nearly a year before the girls warmed up enough to spend so much as an afternoon with their mother. She had bought a new car and was back to selling houses, but with a different company.

Somehow, word of her escapades had gotten out, and her management wasn’t too happy with what they had learned. She was given a choice to either leave voluntarily or get fired. She took the first choice and landed at another company, where, the girls told me, she’s doing quite well. And, they added, she finally gave up her fake persona.

As for me, I found there were a number of single ladies in the church vying for my attention. I found myself inundated with various dishes to take home — pies, casseroles, even a pan of lasagna now and then. And it seemed my girls were anxious to see me get attached again.

“C’mon, Dad, you need to get out and start dating again,” Lisa told me. “It’s not healthy for you to be alone.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” I said. “And I’m not alone. I have you two keeping me pretty busy.”

“But we’re not gonna be here forever. It’s simple, Dad,” Ginger said. “You walk up to a woman and ask her out for dinner. You can do that, right?” I looked at my younger daughter and wondered when she became an expert on dating.

“I guess I can give it a try,” I said. That Wednesday night, I bumped into Rhonda Carson in the line at the coffee shop at our church. She had lost her husband in Iraq a few years back and was raising a 17-year-old daughter by herself. She was one of the women who had given me a casserole to take home for dinner.

“Hey, Rhonda, how’s everything going?” I asked.

“Hanging in there, Greg,” she said. “How about you?”

“I’m doing okay, and I really enjoyed that casserole you gave me last week,” I said.

“Thank you. You doing okay raising your girls by yourself?” she asked.

“It’s a bit of a challenge sometimes, but yeah, I’m managing.” She laughed at that.

“Well, if you’re ‘managing,’ you’re doing pretty good, I guess,” she said.

“How are you doing? You’ve got a teenage daughter as well,” I said.

“The hardest part is trying to deal with everything by myself,” she said.

“I can relate to that,” I said. We got our coffee and sat at a table talking about the challenges of single parenthood when I decided to make a move.

“Listen, Rhonda, I’m fairly new to all this dating stuff, but would you like to have dinner with me sometime? Maybe this Friday?” I asked. She thought for a moment, smiled and nodded her head.

“Yeah, Greg, I’d like that,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’d like to try that new Texas Roadhouse place. Does that sound okay to you?”

“I could go for a steak,” she said. “Sure, that sounds like fun. Maybe we can catch a movie afterward or something.”

“Great,” I said. “I can pick you up at 6:30 if that’s alright.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said. “In fact, you can bring the girls over and they can stay with Linda if that’s alright.” They had known each other for a long time and were already friends, so I thought it would be a good idea.

“Sounds good to me,” I said. The girls were thrilled to hear of my date with Rhonda, and they liked the idea of spending an evening with Linda, so it was set.

That Friday, I took the girls over and we headed out for dinner. Rhonda looked very nice in her denim skirt and we had a great time. We didn’t have sex that night, but she did give me a scorching hot kiss when I pulled up in front of her house. I spotted three sets of eyeballs checking us out from her front window and I thought I saw them giving each other a high-five.