Caught and Kept!

CAUGHT AND KEPT!

©2021 by ‘Legio_Patria_Nostra’ and ‘HighLuster’.

‘HighLuster’, who is principally a gifted editor, is listed as co-author because his exceptional editing skills magically transformed my word salad into a royal feast! His role was so much more than simply proofreading and copy editing. HL is truly a professional-quality editor in the old school tradition. His unique abilities include showing the writer where a word, sentence or paragraph is better cut, changed or reordered, and why. HL’s abilities also include top-notch rewriting and rewording. He quickly showed me that, if I trusted his judgment and let him work, the results would speak for themselves. I did, he did, and they did! We both hope that you enjoy the result of our collaboration as much as we enjoyed crafting it for you!

Please read the tags, and notice that this isn’t a hard core BTB story. Life is lived in the pastels and shades of greys and not in the black and white. We’ve tried to capture the complexities of this couple’s marriage, their relationship and how infidelity has affected them.

There is punishment and justice in this story, and we’ve tried for realism, avoiding as many clichés as possible. However, owning to the subject matter, a few clichés are inevitable; if we were writing about fly fishing we could probably avoid them altogether.

This is a work of fiction, and it’s written solely for entertainment purposes. If you’re not at least 18, close this page and go elsewhere.

She’s Caught!

I’ve never believed in letting a problem go unaddressed, especially a bad one. I also tend to seize and hold the high ground whenever I can. Those strategies, which have served me well, apply to more than military operations. When I unexpectedly caught my wife and her supervisor in our marital bed, my first thought was, “Act. Take the high ground.”

I wasn’t planning on sneaking quietly away and spending the next four months devising a plan for revenge only a little less complex than Operation Overlord was. I wasn’t visualizing a plan, which if flawlessly executed, would devastate the cheaters, win me the sympathy I crave, and pave the way for finding happiness with a just-divorced millionaire beauty queen who adores me.

Why not? Because my chance of winning Power Ball is better than making a plan like that one work. Besides, I couldn’t live for even day with what I now knew, much less for the months needed to plan such an operation. What I saw in my bedroom demanded an immediate response, as instantly immediate as any other such catastrophic, marriage-destroying event would demand. I treated my wife’s infidelity like the dire emergency it was!

My predicament was a predicament of circumstance. What placed me at the door of my bedroom at that moment in time? It wasn’t suspicion. Nobody tipped me off. The cheaters weren’t all that careless. Nope, it wasn’t any of those. It was pure blind luck that caused my clueless ass to catch my wife and her boss in the act. That, and an impossibly fortunate turn of events.

The fate of empires, monarchs and ordinary men capriciously turn on the slightest or most improbable alignment of circumstance. In my case, a single apparently insignificant factor changed my schedule on that day. The resulting realignment of events changed several lives. Here’s what happened.

First, I planned an out-of-town trip to call on two significant clients. This trip was scheduled to be a 14-hour day of meetings, dining, socializing and driving, so my wife Deanna knew I wouldn’t be returning home until late in the evening. She apparently turned that knowledge to her advantage.

Second, I had an unprecedented cancellation by both clients after I was already enroute which caused me to return to my home office about 90-minutes later.

Third, on the way home, I’d stopped to greet our neighbor, Mrs. Jennings, who was walking with her two children. Her oldest, an adorable five-year-old named Molly, wanted to sing me a song. I videoed her with my phone to show Deanna, which was something she’d always liked.

Fourth, Deanna didn’t set our home burglar alarm when she and her supervisor, Ed, came into our house on that day.

If any of those were different, I doubt that I’d have caught my wife in the act with the video evidence to prove it.

Here’s how it all worked out. I proceeded toward my house, turned the corner onto my street, and parked my car in our driveway next to Deanna’s. I thought, “Maybe she’s home ill, or since it’s around noon, maybe she returned on her lunch hour for a bite to eat or to get something she’d forgotten.” That turned out to be wishful thinking.

When I unlocked the entry door, I noticed the burglar alarm wasn’t set. That suggested Deanna planned on a quick stop, which matched with my earlier assumption, but I saw that she wasn’t in the kitchen eating, nor in the family room, so I my assumption became illness. I proceeded upstairs, mildly concerned.

My concern, of course, was for my wife’s health and well-being. I didn’t want to startle nor otherwise disturb her, so my trip up the stairs was quiet and deliberate. No calling out to her, no thumping, no drama.

As I neared the bedroom, I heard Deanna and recognized the sounds I knew so well. At that moment, I knew that my treacherous wife was getting fucked in our bed by someone who wasn’t me!

If you’ve been there and done that, you know that the subconscious mind understands such situations instantly. Then the conscious mind kicks in, shifts gears, catches up and recognizes that your life has just been inalterably transformed. In the vernacular, “Shit just got real;” you realize that your ability to control the events is precarious and getting even more so.

That moment is the moment when you don’t know whether to kill, cry or wind your watch!

Your heart rate soars. Your senses leap to full alert. Your insides turn to jelly. Adrenaline-fueled, highly intense shakes hit you like the blast of a point-blank shotgun.

Rage, anger, jealousy, hurt, and all of the primal darkness wired into our collective unconscious explodes inside the lizard part of our brain. Then the instincts for self-preservation that sit dormant in all of us until we need them surge to the surface.

Almost without thinking I grabbed my phone, which was in video mode (thanks Molly), and slowly opened the already cracked door a few inches.

I slowly followed the camera into the room. The scene was worse than I’d imagined. An adrenaline-flood nearly overwhelmed me. I fought to control my breathing, which was shallow and rapid and I fought to retain focus.

Ed and my wife were locked in classic missionary. His head rested against the right side of hers. She had her face turned away from me. He was gripping her ass and going to town, humping and grunting away. She moaned in synchrony. It wasn’t pretty.

There were no declarations of love nor any demeaning insults against the cuckolded spouses. There was no tenderness nor affection. There was none of that, just the down and dirty, the doing-the-nasty in our marital bed.

As distracted as they were, I probably could have remained there unnoticed until they finished. That wasn’t gonna happen. I was rapidly accelerating away from surprised, toward WTF and then on to full-blown Texas Chainsaw Massacre LXIV, Waco Edition! Alarm bells were ringing and my Rage Monster (imagine a zombie Randall ‘Tex’ Cobb) busted down the cage door!

Their shit also just got real!

I left the phone recording and propped it against a jewelry box on the dresser. I quietly approached the bed, grabbed old Ed’s right ear and pulled like I was starting a lawnmower full of last year’s gasoline.

The human ear is delicate and easily abused, with a number of associated nerves and minor muscles. So, as I pulled on his right ear, Ed was naturally quite eager to follow along. That forced him to pull out of my wife and roll onto his back to comply.

As a typical dude in a fit of jealous rage, I checked his wedding tackle as he rolled over. After all, size is the first thing that comes to mind when we’re asking the usual postmortem questions, isn’t it?

I was pleased to see his average size. And a condom, which eliminated another painful element from the inevitable Shit-show Deluxe Edition, soon to debut, here at Hartung’s!

In those interminable seconds, preserved for posterity in digital clarity, Ed screamed something unintelligible. Deanna’s surprised scream followed and it turned into my name followed by the words, “No! Noo! Nooo! Kevvvvvvvvin, don’t hurrrrrrrt him!”

Some functioning and attentive part of my brain heard and understood. Maybe, just maybe, Deanna saved both Ed’s life and my own freedom. She ensured that no jury would need to get involved, thus tipping the odds in my favor. Yes, Texas juries are the most empowered juries on earth. Yes, they will often nullify the law or go easy on sentencing for crimes of passion where the reaction isn’t too far out of proportion to the provocation. But sometimes they don’t. Deanna made sure that I wouldn’t be subject to a jury that didn’t.

I still don’t know what damage I would’ve ultimately visited upon Ed’s cowering presence, but whatever that might have been, Deanna forced me to pause and reconsider. I owed her for that one.

Now that I was redirected, I dragged a stumbling, screaming Ed out of the bedroom. He grabbed at me helplessly as I brutally towed him along by his reluctant ear. Once we were on the landing at the top of the stairs, I shoved him hard.

No, Ed didn’t tumble down the stairs in homage to a formulaic Hollywood movie. Instead, he only tumbled part way. He broke his fall by grabbing one of the handrails. The few stairs he did skid down weren’t gentle. Ed left some of his pasty skin on the carpet during his descent. When I considered his scuffed-up, doughy ass, I knew Deanna never told him that his was as cute as mine is.

Small comfort. I was still seething. I grabbed Ed’s clothes and threw them haphazardly down the stairs, followed by his pathetic wingtips. I was laughing manically because it felt like I was playing a game of naked dodgeball. The first shoe missed, but after a couple of quick, fake throws, I nailed him right in the stomach with the other one.

I told Ed to get dressed and to get out of my house, because if he was still there in two minutes the next thing down the stairs was going to be a .45 caliber slug. My wife screamed that Ed didn’t have a car here. My response was, “Call a cab.” I saw the condom on the stairs and told him to take his scumbag with him, or I would feed it to him gleefully.

Ed responded by possessively growling, “Leave her alone, Kevin.” They were words with nothing behind them.

I turned to reenter our bedroom, where my naked wife was sitting in the middle of the bed bawling.

I tend use humor at terribly inappropriate moments, and something in my head was so wild and so fuck it that I winked and blew Deanna a kiss. I didn’t remember that until I watched the phone video later. I was so far out of control that my face was almost unrecognizable.

I called a short time-out on myself, shoved the Rage Monster back into his crate, and forced myself to calm down. I checked my watch, then looked back at Ed and spat, “You’re down to a minute, thirty-three and counting.”

Ed screamed, “You don’t scare me, you fucking pussy!” as he was sliding into his trousers. His eyes were furious, even burning. Pink and red abrasions striped his back. His right ear was bright red and starting to swell. “I’ll file charges on your ass, you lousy fuck,” he yelled, accompanied by Deanna wailing in the background, “No, Kevin! Stop it, Ed! Noooooo…”

I pointed a finger at Ed and said in a voice so calm that it even surprised me, “Oh really? All I saw was a man raping my dear, faithful wife. I reacted to protect her.

I continued, “Once you’re out of here, you need to buy a dozen roses and a nice card for your wife! If she swallows whatever bullshit story you come up with for your soon-to-be cauliflower ear, she’ll probably start wondering about the scrapes on your back and on your Pillsbury Doughboy ass!

“Finally, update your resume because you’re my wife’s damn boss, and you took advantage of her, you piece of maggot-infested shit! You’re gonna need another job real soon.”

“You ain’t threatening me, you fuck!” he screamed.

Just before I closed the bedroom door I said, “You’re right Ed. I’m finished threatening you. I’m about to take action! Your time is almost up.”

I faced Deanna, who was still sobbing. Menacingly I hissed, “Go fucking clean up…” my inappropriately timed humor returned as I added merrily, “…because Honey, we need to talk!”

She stepped toward me, still naked, and I held up my hand. “No. Clean up. I’ll strip and make up our… marriage bed… and then we will talk.”

Deanna retreated into the bathroom, weeping. I stopped the video recording on my phone and stripped the sheets, the pillowcases and even the duvet. Instead of putting them in the laundry, I put them into two industrial-sized garbage bags. The filth on them couldn’t ever be washed away.

Some Images Can’t Be Unseen

Deanna sat across from me. Her walnut-colored hair was damp and her make-up was removed. Her slight frame was wrapped in my big terry-cloth robe.

Deanna held a cup of strong coffee in both shaky hands. I had one also, but mine had healthy shot of Jameson in it. Like Deanna, I was trembling, but my trembling was the result of a post-adrenaline let-down, not embarrassment nor fear.

“Start talking to me, Deanna,” I said, trying to be civil even though I was clearly hurt and angry. “Before you say anything, imagine every cheater’s cliché you can think of and put them all aside. Don’t even try to insult my intelligence nor further destroy your remaining credibility with any of that bullshit. You crossed an inviolable line, and we both know it. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Deanna looked away. Her eyes filled anew with tears. She reached for my hand and I withdrew it, which earned me one of her looks.

After a few minutes of pregnant and awkward silence, Deanna looked straight at me and said “First of all, I love you more than anyone on Earth, even more than our precious daughter, Brandy, and even more than my parents. I want to grow old with you. I know that sounds like a cheap lie right now, but it is the truth. What I did was beyond wrong. There’s no excuse for my betrayal of our marriage. I take full responsibility for that.”

Deanna looked me squarely in the eye and then added, “I just want to fix this Kevin, and I’ll do anything you want me to do.”

My first instinct was to lash out at her with the standard angry husband insults, but I didn’t because I felt strangely calm after the awful rage I’d just gotten under control. Was I angry? Of course. But I was relaxed as well.

“Okay, let’s get to the ‘why’ of all this? Please explain what went wrong. Why did you cross the line and cheat? How long, Deanna?”

“For about six months, but this is only the fourth time we’ve had sex. And yes, I made him wear a condom each time.”

Trying not to be sarcastic but failing, I asked, “Four times in six months? What were you doing? Did I walk in on your performance review?” Deanna’s beautiful, expressive, brown eyes reflected the sting of those words, but she otherwise let it pass.

“We had trouble finding a time to get away, mainly because I was afraid of getting caught and because we knew what we were doing was wrong.” She stared down at her cup and added, “Ed was chasing me, but I was the one that let him catch me. I could’ve stopped it. I should have.”

“But you didn’t. Why, Deanna? Why?” The exasperation in my voice was evident.

Deanna was pensive. “I’ve thought about that, even before today. There were several factors. After looking at them in the cold light of day, I realize that they’re just bullshit. They’re worn-out clichés, just like you said they were. I can’t honestly tell you what the real reason is.”

“Was the sex better? Am I not doing something right?”

She shook her head. “No, not at all. Just the opposite. Ed thinks he’s a great lover, but he’s nothing like you are. He doesn’t like to give me oral sex. He’s not particularly imaginative. He’s somewhat selfish. He doesn’t care about my satisfaction. No, Kevin, the only thing I can imagine is I was indulging in a forbidden fruit fantasy.”

“There has to be more to it than that, Deanna. I just can’t believe you’d fuck another man because of that.”

Maybe it’s because I just turned forty. Maybe it’s because my little Brandy is a nearly grown woman. I do know that a younger man—my boss—started treating me like a valued colleague and the center of his attention. He consulted with me on everything, almost like he was grooming me to be his replacement. It was exciting. Maybe that all contributed to why I was unfaithful too.”

Deanna can’t lie for shit, so when she looked me in the eye and said she didn’t know why, I believed her.

She chewed on a manicured nail pensively. “But as you said, Kevin, I made a choice and I acted on it.”

I asked, “Why here, and why today?”

“We went to meet with two companies we do business with. They’re both near here, out along Highway 83, and we met with their accounting departments this morning. Ed asked me to drive because his Tahoe is in for service. When we were done, he suggested that instead of lunch, we could have a nooner before going back to work.”

“Ed knows I work out of my home office, so you must’ve told him I was gone,” I said.

“It came up in casual conversation. Ed and I’ve been friendly and we share things like that. In fact, Ed helped me get my promotion to analyst. He told me that Mr. Gerston wanted to promote Sherri, but he went to bat for me. He never initiated our rendezvous as payback or anything of the sort. It’s not why I had sex with him.”

I refilled my cup and topped hers off. “I have my doubts about that, but then I can’t stand the guy.”

Deanna raised her eyebrows questioningly. “You never said anything about Ed before today.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, “I didn’t. It was personal. I figured he was your boss and I needed to stay quiet, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like him. Whenever I’d met him at company events, he treated his wife like she wasn’t there and he acted like a prick towards me. Both aren’t acceptable behaviors”

“I’m not defending him, Kevin, but I’m curious. How did he treat you?”

“You know, snide innuendo, compliments about you that were kind of borderline, a remark about me not working for a major company. Just chickenshit stuff like that. Individually, none of his remarks was a big deal, but when taken together they became a pattern. You know me, I have a thick skin, and it takes a lot to piss me off, but Ed managed to do that.”

Deanna nodded. “Unless you know him well, Ed comes off as kind of strong. He tries to be alpha, but he has mostly beta skills,” she chuckled, “but you’re wondering if I felt anything for him, right?” I nodded.

“I didn’t,” she continued. “No love. Friendship, maybe a crush, but certainly not love.

Ed is a handsome man, almost 8-years younger than I am. He’s my boss two levels up. A boss who started treating me like his equal, like his peer, almost as if he were mentoring me for some reason. He put me on high-profile projects and took a real interest in my career. All that kind of, well, got to me I suppose but it wasn’t more than lust. I see what he was doing now.”

“I can almost understand your feelings, but I can’t understand how you let them get so out of hand. Let’s get back to your affair. Where did we go wrong? You and me? Us?”

She replied, “The affair, if that’s what you want to call it, is all on me and not on us. I do know it will take both of us to fix what I did if we even can.

“I beg you to find it in your heart to try. I apologize for the hurt, the anger and the disrespect I caused. I don’t want a divorce. A divorce would devastate me. I want forgiveness. Please.

“I can assure you that, although you may never trust me again, I will never do anything that would violate the trust you had in me before I fucked up so royally. I’d also like to go to counseling, both by myself and together with you as a couple.”

“That’s reasonable,” I said. “But damn, baby, it’s still so raw right now.”

Deanna rose and came around the table. Her intent was unclear. I sure wasn’t in the mood for a hug or a kiss. I didn’t get any. Instead, my distressed wife knelt on the floor beside me and placed her forehead on my thigh. She laid my right hand on the back of her head and she clasped her own hands behind her.

So positioned, Deanna showed me her heart, “Kevin my treasured husband, I beg you to forgive me for the wrongs I have committed against you, our marriage and our family. I pledge to you, without hesitation, my bottomless love and my unwavering fidelity now and forever.

“I understand that I am to be judged by my actions. They will from this moment forward be exactly as you would expect them to be. None of my past transgressions will ever again stain the fabric of our marriage.

“This I solemnly swear on my own life and on all that I hold dear. In so doing I place my love, my hope, and our marriage in your hands, and I place my very life at your tender mercy.”

I was deeply moved. My eyes teared up and I didn’t even try to hide it. I placed my hand on Deanna’s warm, damp hair and managed to choke out, “I accept your pledge, Deanna, and will assist you in any way I can.” I pulled her tearful face to mine, then I kissed her gently and added, “I love you, my wife. I’m angry and hurt, but I do love you. I forgive you, but it’s going to be hard to forget.”

This may come off as overly dramatic—as something almost out of a romance novel. Well, it isn’t. It was real. You had to have been there to appreciate why. Deanna laid herself out in front of me, wholly vulnerable and emotionally defenseless. My words describe that only adequately.

More than an hour later I was in our bedroom changing when Deanna’s cell phone rang. The caller ID showed that it was Ed, so I answered and didn’t say a word. In a moment, he said, “Dee, is that you? Can you talk?”

“No, Ed, this is K and I don’t want to talk, but I’ll give Deanna her phone.” Deanna heard the ring downstairs and was at the top of the stairs already, so I handed her phone to her. I went to leave, and she grabbed my arm, shaking her head. Deanna pointed at the floor, indicating that she wanted me to stay.

“Yes, Ed, as a matter of fact, I can talk.” She listened.

“What do you mean, I sound mad?” Pause.

“Yes, at you but mostly at myself.” Pause.

“Yes, what we did was…” Ed loudly cut her off.

“No, I don’t remember what he said to you.” Longer pause.

“So, if he does, he does. You and I deserve…” Ed interrupted again.

“I wouldn’t believe it either if I were your wife.” Pause.

“Well, why did you put the damn condom in your pocket…?” Pause.

Angrily, Deanna spat, “So now it’s Kevin’s fault your wife caught you?” Pause.

“Oh, it’s MY fault! Well, you asshole, you were the one that suggested a romp in my marital bed!”

Long pause. Deanna put the phone on speaker. All we heard was a woman’s shrill yelling, and then we were disconnected.

Deanna sat on the unmade bed and ran her fingers through her still-damp hair. With tearful eyes, she said, “A wife and two little kids, and I’m partly to blame. All to blame maybe, because I had the power to stop this train wreck.” She cried softly. “I’ll have to live with that, too.” I pulled her close to me because, well because I love my wife, and because I realize she’s fallible and she’s hurting.

Deanna continued, “I guess you told him to pick up the condom?” I nodded. “Well, you must’ve scared him because he put it in his pants pocket.”

After he left, Ed says he took the cab to the dealer and picked up his Tahoe. When he finally got home, his wife noticed his ear. She didn’t buy his story and I guess when he ditched his pants for a shower, she snooped and found the condom.

“Now he’s wondering what you’ll do, Kevin. He’s thinking of the work implications, although from what we heard over the phone, I think he’s got bigger problems at home!”

I said, “I’m torn between calling your HR Director and not calling him. I’d like them to kick Ed’s ass to the curb, but you’re involved too, and then there’s his family to consider.”

Deanna took my hands in hers and said, “Setting things right isn’t your problem, Kevin. It’s mine. I’m going to HR tomorrow. I should’ve stopped this shit immediately because he’s my damn boss. I told you I’m taking ownership of my actions, and going to HR is step one.”

I assured Deanna that I would stand behind her whatever the outcome, even if she were fired.

After a quiet supper of delivery pizza and salad, we watched a little television. Our daughter went to a play rehearsal. The way that Brandy hugged and kissed us before she left suggested that she knew something wasn’t right between us. Like her mother’s, Brandy’s eyes say it all.

Deanna snuggled close to me, still in her robe, and said, “Don’t take this wrong because I’m simply curious. How did you happen to come home when you did? Did you suspect something?”

I shook my head. “No. It was totally by chance.” Then I went through all the improbable circumstances that led my discovery.

Deanna took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Well, I’m glad it’s over. I feel like the spell has been broken. Maybe… maybe… evil gets inside us when we do small, seemingly harmless things. Those little things, well, they’re like baby steps. We change slowly by tiny increments, and before we realize it, we’re not even close to who we were.

“Shit, I knew infidelity is wrong, but I was unfaithful anyway. The person I I’ve become is a stranger to me.” Her eyes were intense, worried.

I knew Deanna was beating herself up more effectively than I ever could.

If I’d reacted more aggressively when I caught Deanna with her boss, she might’ve responded defensively with that tedious, “you made me cheat” bullshit. She could’ve rushed impetuously out of the house with her bags, or worse called the police to report a domestic disturbance. No, due to circumstances I started out on the high ground, and I was smart enough to keep it. Deanna’s reaction directly reflected the way I approached her. High ground is the place to be!

I’d been tempted and ran right up to the brink, but I think I held it together pretty well. You just can’t catch your wife getting fucked in your own marital bed and then decide to unsee the betrayal. That was the ache that just kept on throbbing. You can’t unsee something like that no matter how hard you want to!

As if reading my mind, Deanna said, “I can only imagine how my trysts with Ed have wounded you. I’ve asked myself over and over how I’d feel If I saw you having sex with another woman. Baby, I am so, so sorry. I can’t undo it, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it better!”

Sometime later, Bandy came home and sat with us for a bit before going to her room. She finally asked, “Is anything wrong? Are y’all okay?”

I said, “Yeah, Baby Girl, sometimes we hit a rough spot, but we love each other, and we love you; we’ll get past it.” My wife nodded and smiled in agreement. Then Deanna placed her hand over mine and squeezed.

Brandy smiled and seemed relieved. “Okay, I need to finish some homework.” She paused on her way out of the room and added, “Rough spot? Earlier, y’all looked like you’d hit a sinkhole, but I can see you’re doing better now. G’night. I love you both!” She blew us kisses as she left.

Deanna smiled. “Perceptive, kid.”

I nodded. “Yep, she’s a keeper, that one. Just like her mother.”

Deanna gave me a sweet kiss on the lips and said, “I’m going to get ready for bed.”

“Yeah, I’ll be up there in a bit. I woke up way too early this morning.”

Moving Forward

When I slipped into bed, Deanna was still awake. The smell of clean sheets and what appeared to be a touch of odor eliminator was strong, but I also caught a hint of freshly applied perfume. I leaned over to kiss her, and she rolled into me. Deanna took my face in her strong hands and pulled my mouth to hers. Our long, lingering kiss was hotter and steamier than any we’d shared in a long time.

I felt the cool, nylon-silkiness of a black negligee against my torso. Deanna’s eyes were heavy with lust and need. My mind screamed, “Are you up for this? Tonight?” My cock answered, “Yes,” as Deanna pushed me onto my back and hissed into my mouth, “Fuck me, Kevin! Reclaim me, lover! I want you inside me. I want you to blast your seed into me. I want you to make me yours forever.”

There went my doubts. Yes, there was the drive to erase Ed’s presence in the most primal way a man can, but the intense love I felt for my wife drove me as well.

My love burned through my pain. It melted my jealousy and my anger. I slipped into Deanna’s wetness, and she rode me furiously to a strong, boisterous orgasm. Still panting from her climax, Deanna rolled onto her back and pulled me over on top of her. She said, “Now fuck me, darling! Pound into me and take your pleasure! Fill me with your cum!”

I know how Deanna thinks, and I think she understood the effect that the troubling scene I’d witnessed had on me. In her amazing way, she therefore orchestrated my reclamation of her differently.

She took my face in her hand and positioned me on my elbows. Deanna gazed into my eyes, nearly nose-to-nose, and spoke. “Fuck me, baby…fuck! Baby, baby! I love you! Fuck! Give it to me, baby…ohhhhh, yes! Deep! Pound my pussy! Give it all to me! Yes! I fucking love you, Kevin! Ohhh…”

I stay in decent shape for a 41-year-old guy, but I’d never fucked Deanna like I was fucking her now! The sweat flowed from both of us; mine dripped from my face onto hers. Our sweaty bodies slapped together, and the salty streams ran into our eyes. As I pounded her cunt, she kept up the nasty, sexy dialogue. Her eyes were intense as she held me in her gaze. “Mmmmmuuunnh baby! Oh…Oh… Fuck…F-f-fuuuuck! I looooove youuuuu…”

Suddenly, Deanna’s eyes rolled back, and her face contorted as another intense orgasm swept over her. Those long, powerful legs locked around my waist, pulling me deeper into her seething core Her warm, gripping center set off my powerful orgasm. It had been several days since we’d made love, and I was full. Several powerful streams of hot cum flooded her welcoming depths.

As our breathing returned to normal, I caressed Deanna’s sweaty body. Her wet, nearly transparent negligee clung to her beautiful curves. Her full breasts, with their dark areolas and hard nipples, peeked through enticingly. Deanna removed the spoiled, sodden garment and tossed it aside. We fell asleep in each other’s arms, oblivious to everything except ourselves.

Trust but Verify

About noon the next day, I was in my home office finishing some work when Deanna walked in and kissed me. She leaned against the edge of my desk, looking emotionally spent. She had met with her HR manager that morning, and her sad, resigned expression spoke volumes.

I put on the brave face and said, “You’re home in the middle of the day sweetie…”

Deanna nodded and said, “Yes. I’m on paid leave pending the resolution of the work side of my mess with Ed.” She paused reflectively and continued, “Suspended with pay they call it.” I understood why and guessed that the issue would be resolved in Deanna’s favor.

Deanna continued “I went to HR as soon as I arrived at work this morning and spoke with our HR Manager. She called Ed shortly after that to hear his side of the story.

“After interviewing us separately, our boss, Mr. Gerson, met with me again. In his presence, the HR manager asked me why I didn’t report that I was being harassed. “In all honesty, I told her, it didn’t seem like harassment at the time.

“The analyst job offer had surfaced in my earlier discussion with the HR manager and she told Mr. Gerson about that when the three of us spoke.

“I could see that he was concerned about that development because Ed had sworn that he secured the position for me. However, when our HR manager and Mr. Gerson reviewed the interview notes, we found that that Ed’s recommendation was in favor of Sherri.

“The manager confirmed that Ed even appealed my selection to Mr. Gerson before they offered me the job!

“After all that came to light, HR and Mr. Gerson called Sherri in for a discussion. I can’t confirm it, but there may have had been something between Sherri and Ed, which might explain why he preferred her for the job. I don’t know if there was any sex behind it. Either way, they fired Ed immediately, and Sherri went back to her desk as angry as I’ve ever seen any woman.”

I said, “You know they can hardly fire you. A woman who’s two pay grades below her immediate boss in a workplace relationship? You’d get a lawyer and take them to the cleaners.”

She slowly nodded and bit her lower lip. “I could, but I won’t. Shit, I am as responsible as he is.”

“How did his ear look?”

Deanna smiled wanly. “Pretty bad. Red, blue, yellow and swollen.”

She didn’t seem to want to discuss that any further. Instead, she reached into her purse and handed me an envelope. “Open it,” she said. “I wrote these notes while I was sitting in my car before I drove home. Add anything you think we need. These are for you, darling. It will take a while, but I’m committed to earning your trust back.”

On a paper from a yellow note pad, Deanna had written in her beautiful, long-hand script:

Restoring Trust. My Plan and My Pledge to my Dear Husband—Deanna Hartung

The undersigned freely acknowledges that she has behaved in a way that disrespects both her husband and her marriage.

She is repentant and remorseful and wishes to make amends for her behavior in any and all ways necessary to restore her husband’s trust, respect and love.

To that end she freely accepts these guiding principles, rules and restrictions and in so doing reaffirms her vows to her husband, pledges her fidelity to her husband alone and faithfulness to her vows.

1. I will never put myself in a situation where my marriage vows might be jeopardized. All interactions that I may have with other men shall unambiguously pass the ‘Would My Husband Approve?’ test.

2. I have violated my husband’s trust and he may never trust me again. To regain his trust I will not take offense or umbrage if he checks on my behavior or location, asks others about me or my activities or if he forbids me from participating in activities where I might be unduly tempted to violate his trust in me.

Such activities may include girl’s nights out, bridal showers, baby showers, bachelorette parties and any other such all-girl parties that I might be invited to unless I am accompanied by at least one female member of my family, for example, by my daughter, a sister-in-law or by any other mutually agreed on responsible female third party.

3. I will take no out-of-town business trips unless I am accompanied by my husband or by a mutually agreed on third party. My husband shall be able to disallow any such trips for any reason or for no reason at all. His decision shall be binding.

4. I enthusiastically commit to regular, wild, uninhibited, nasty sex with my husband whenever and wherever he so desires. I shall initiate such sex with my husband at every suitable opportunity. Either of us shall be able to declare our sex life to be stale and in need of refreshing, upon which we will both work to restore it.

5. I will drink no alcohol at Company functions including but not limited to team-building exercises, reward outings and Company parties, excepting the functions that I attend with my husband or with a mutually agreed on responsible party.

6. All workplace relationships I participate in shall conform to Company Employee Handbook rules, regulations and HR guidelines. I will report any workplace harassment, innuendo, proposition or conduct that violates any aspect of The Handbook immediately to both my husband and my Human Resources manager.

7. I will immediately and fully disclose to my husband any untoward advances initiated by other men and abide by any advice, recommendation, order, directive or demand that my husband cares to offer or impose.

8. I will place my marriage without exception ahead of all other considerations, ahead of other relationships and ahead of my career and professional success.

9. My husband has the passwords that protect my telephone, computer, and email account. I agree that he may inspect any or all of them as he sees fit. I welcome unannounced checks to demonstrate and verify that my intentions, actions and behavior fully meet his expectations.

10. This document may be amended by my husband without notice to me nor consultation. Such amendments shall be binding. I may amend this document only with the collaboration and approval of my husband.

I freely, willingly, and lovingly affix my signature hereto, pledging to comply with each pledge, to the best of my ability, so long as I shall live.

[signed] Deanna C. Hartung

A week later, Deanna showed up with a signed, notarized, legally filed, post-nuptial agreement. At first, I wanted to shred it because it was so unnecessary and redundant.

Deanna resisted. “Honey, this is a life insurance policy for our marriage! I know we’ll never use it, but it’s just another way to put teeth into my pledge to you, to myself, and to our future life together.”

The terms of the agreement are draconian if she cheats again. I don’t think she will.

Afterward

At the beginning of the following week, Deanna was called back to work. As I’d correctly surmised, she wasn’t in trouble. In fact, she was offered a twenty-five-thousand-dollar settlement in compensation for Ed’s harassment and to mitigate any future claims against the Company.

Deanna accepted the offer and promptly donated the money to her company’s Employees Helping Employees Assistance Fund. That’s the kind of girl she is and why I (still) love her.

Sherrie got one too. She donated it to herself and bought herself a pair of breast implants. She’s now dating a thrice-divorced male stripper.

Ed didn’t fare so well. He’s now selling used cars at a large, self-financing car lot. He’s not a talented salesman.

Ed’s wife did reconcile with him but at a price. The word on the street is that one of his wife’s conditions of reconciliation was a chastity cage that Ed is required to wear whenever he’s away from home. It must be fun to wear one of those while trying to sell a car to a twenty-one-year-old vixen.

I wanted to run into him one day and say, “Hey, Eddie, I hear you’re a charter member of Candi’s key club.” I wouldn’t actually do that, but it’s fun to think about.

Deanna has been going to a counselor, and I’ve attended some couple’s sessions with her. They’ve concluded that the reasons that Deanna cheated were the result of deeper unresolved issues, most dating from childhood and fewer from our marriage. We’re slowly but surely attending to them.

As to trust, Deanna continues to over-honor her pledges which is making a positive difference. She continually keeps me informed of her whereabouts and activities. Our therapist believes that this is as much about easing her fear of losing me as it is about alleviating my worry.

Deanna is still trying to forgive herself for cheating. She and her counselor are making headway there, too.

Our trust is still fragile. Forgiveness and love are bringing us closer to restoring it. I’ve come to realize that not everyone understands why they make mistakes. It may simply be because we’re all imperfect, fallible, not fundamentally introspective human beings.

Sure, I could’ve kicked my wife to the curb, but I didn’t. Whenever I think about what occurred, I could feel angry and hurt, but I don’t. It’s my choice.

Instead, I recall the 99.999% of our marriage that was good and getting better, and how far we’ve come since that awful day.

I know guys who gladly died atop Once-a-Cheater Hill, and I see how sad, miserable and broken some of them became. In many cases, the ex-wives and children suffer equally and unnecessarily. Sure, some marriages are irreparably damaged and beyond help and some spouses refuse to change their ways, but many spouses can and do successfully become faithful partners once again. Under the right circumstances, they should be given the chance.

After an incident like mine, if you’re intellectually honest, you’ll ask yourself, “Is my marriage salvageable?” and “Am I better off married to my wife rather than divorced from her and on my own?”

Each of us will have our own answers. To both questions, I unequivocally answered, “Yes!” It was the right decision for me, and the proof shares my bed with me every day.

For others? Each situation is unique and subject to its own evaluation. I can only judge myself, my own decisions and the results. I have no right nor standing to judge anyone else, nor they me.

The more Deanna and I grow and learn, the more we realize that we not only possessed a solid and durable love, but that we managed to keep it. We were also damn lucky. Sometimes, as Lefty said, “It’s better to be lucky than good.”

#30#

Thanks again to HighLuster for not only his incredible ability to edit but his talent to rework/reword a phrase or thought. He took some passages that leaned towards what I wanted to express and worked them over until they were better than I’d ever hoped. He’s the arch enemy of the awkward phrase. The man’s gifted!