There is no sex in this story. Sorry.
This is a repost of a previous story so there will be no voting.
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Cassie and I had been married five years and we went together for about five years prior to our wedding. I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. I had been with several girls prior to going with Cassie but she had been with only one other guy, as far as I know. Everything was going as planned with our marriage. We had both been working and saved enough money to start looking for our first home. Children would come next. My career, as an engineering designer, was coming along fine and Cassie was planning on being a stay at home mom as soon as the first of the kids arrived.
Cassie was as pretty as the day I started going with her. She had shoulder length brown hair with long, thick bangs coming down to her eyes. Her eyes were dark and they shined when she laughed. She was only about five three but seemed taller because of the way she carried herself. She had well defined hips and a nice waistline. I myself was a tad average, nothing at all to talk about. I stood under six feet and under two hundred pounds. The best thing about me was that I still had all my hair. I jogged at least three times a week so I was in pretty good shape.
The sex was fine. Over the years we had tried just about everything and openly discussed what each of us liked and didn’t like. I was happy with her sexual performance and I assumed that she was ok with mine. Life was good. The future was bright. It was bright until we had the night talk.
Normally when we go to bed we do one of two things, have sex or go to sleep. We have never lain in bed with the lights out and discussed personal matters of any type. It was a routine that we both seemed to be comfortable with. I know now why it was a good policy.
“John, can we talk about something for a second?”
“What? Now? Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”
She was silent for a moment.
“John, Clayton Brenner is in town for a few days. Would you mind if I saw him while he was here?”
She had my attention. Clayton Brenner was the one guy that Cassie had had sex with other than me. He was a real pussy hound when we were in school. His family had money and Clayton always dressed smart and drove a fancy car while the rest of us guys were trying to keep our junk heaps running. The girls were all attracted to him and he had his pick of them. He would go with one for a few weeks and then dump her and pick up another one. The girls knew what he did but they still thought they would be the one. Unfortunately, Cassie was one of the ones that he used and dumped. He used to brag about his conquests to the other guys, which I found to be real low class. He was also supposed to be pretty good in the sack, and as far as I know none of the girls ever complained about his performance, including Cassie.
“Why are you asking me this now?”
“I just don’t want to do anything that you might not want me to do.”
“Where?”
“At the Deska Inn restaurant.”
“Cassie, Clayton Brenner is not one of my favorite people.”
“I know, but we were friends back in school.”
“Cassie, you weren’t his friend, you were a notch on his belt.”
She said nothing and the pause was maddening.
“When did he call you?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
There was another silent moment, longer than the first one.
“I am not going to comment one way or the other. You do what you want to do. Let your conscience be your guide.” I always wanted to say that.
I rolled over on my side facing away from her. Things were quiet for a while and then I heard her very softly crying in her pillow. This was something that she never did before. I lay perfectly still so she would not know I was still awake. She whimpered to herself for a long time and then finally fell asleep.
It was the longest night of my life. Why would she be crying about my refusal to condone her meeting with an ex boyfriend? Why did she wait a whole day to tell me about his being in town? Why did he call her at all? The conversation we had was short and was not emotionally charged enough to bring her to tears. I was missing something. There was something that I did not understand. I tossed and turned all night trying to work it out. Of course there was an easy solution to my dilemma. All I had to do was ask her.
Did she already see him?
Why did she want to see him?
Was she planning on having sex with him?
Did she already have sex with him?
I was driving myself nuts. I knew that I could not ask her any of these questions. Anything I learned would be from information that she gave to me of her own free will, without my asking. I felt strongly about that and was determined not to give in to the easy way out. If she told me, it would be fine but I would not ask.
I looked over at the clock. It was almost five AM. I got out of bed and quietly went to the bathroom to relieve myself. I was still thinking. I tried some mind tricks to stop it but nothing worked. Before leaving the bathroom, I glanced over to the hamper. I slowly lifted the lid and looked in. Moving a few things around on top, I found a pair of black silk panties and a black pushup bra. These were special occasion underwear. She wore them on birthdays, anniversaries and other times that were cause for celebration. The special underwear always meant special sex. Yesterday was not a special day. We did not have special sex. I didn’t even get to see her in the underwear. There was only one more thing left to do. I slowly brought the crouch of her panties up to my face. There was no indication of any fluids or sex on the panties. I was relieved but remembered that that really didn’t mean there was no sex.
All I knew for sure was that she had worn her black silk panties that day and I had to assume that she wore them so someone could admire her in them.
I carefully laid the bra and panties on the vanity by the sink. Making as little noise as possible, I got dressed and left the house.
The Waffle House was always open. As I sat nursing my third cup of coffee my mind was still going a million miles an hour. I pushed away the plate of half eaten eggs and grits, paid the bill and had no idea what I was going to do next. Emotions were running rampant. First was the disappointment I was feeling for my wife’s infidelity. Second and growing rapidly was the emotion of revenge.
Clayton Brenner was wrong to call my wife. He was a smooth talker and a devious son of a bitch. Just the thought of him invading the sanctity of my marriage was making me furious. A woman never forgets her first lover and because Clayton was handsome and rich it made everything so much harder to take. Taking vengeance on my wife was another matter. I knew what Clayton did. I was not sure what Cassie had done. Spirit and intent mean a lot to me. If she did anything, what was her motivation and what was she trying to accomplish. I didn’t feel that I could condemn her till I knew more. Then again, I really didn’t want to know more.
I was driving around aimlessly for hours until it was time for me to go to work. I finally convinced myself that I did not want to know what Cassie had or had not done. Knowing either way would have an effect on our marriage, possibly destroying it. I was determined not to let her explain her actions no matter how hard she tried, if she tried.
I was tired and depressed. I didn’t want to go to work or any place else for that matter.
Cassie was awake by now. I was sure she found the bra and panties on the vanity by this time. I tried to envision what was going on in her mind but couldn’t. There was too much going on in my own head to think about what she was thinking. She now knows that I figured out something had happened. I was not able to concentrate on my work at the office. About ten o’clock the phone rang.
“John. Its Cassie.”
“Yes.” There was a short pause on the other end.
“I am going to go down to my mothers for a few days. Is that all right with you?”
“How long is a ‘few days’?”
“About a week. Is that OK?”
“Sure. Give me a call when you are ready to come home.”
“OK. Thanks.” There was another short pause.
“John, I love you.”
I didn’t answer. I quietly hung up the phone and sat in my private office and softly cried for the first times in years.
I took the rest of the week off using some accumulated sick leave. I knew I was going to do something dumb, I just didn’t know what yet.
The most probable scenario that I could come up with was that Cassie had gone to see Clayton at the motel restaurant and then went to his room and had sex with him, for old times sake. After she got home she felt guilty and was trying in some fashion to admit to me what she had done. She waited till we went to bed so that I would be a little more responsive to her confession. It was already a done deal and she was trying to get some sort of left-handed approval from me to justify or compensate for her transgression. I didn’t give her any slack and now she had a real problem. She knew that I knew that she was not being entirely truthful and she had no idea what to do next. Of course, I could be totally wrong.
I found the black underwear in the trashcan in the garage when I got home. I spent the next two days making myself more miserable. I stayed in the house and played the damn mind games over and over. I felt that Cassie and I had a special relationship and more than anything I wanted to keep it. Any confession on her part would crumble the trust between us. Any inquiries on my part would do the same thing. We were trapped. I felt certain that she would want to confess everything to rid her self of the guilt, and that she was willing to face the consequences that would come with it. I didn’t want her confession any longer because I felt that it would destroy the marriage.
Cassie used poor judgment concerning the whole situation. Was she now a slut, a whore, an adulteress or just a housewife who screwed up and regretted it? What was Clayton? He was a skirt chaser who was going after married women who he felt were a sure thing, since he had had them before. He called my home, my sanctuary, to seduce my wife. It was pretty easy to figure out where my aggressions should be directed. I decided to take care of part of my problem the next day and I didn’t give a damn what the consequences would be.
It was easy to find out what room Clayton was in. I decided a simple approach was best. I would knock on his door and when he opened it, I would shoot the son of a bitch. At this point I didn’t care if I got caught or not. I wasn’t going to make a big show out of it and thought that a low profile, in and out, would not be noticed. I decided on the Ruger .22 automatic. I figured three hollow points in the heart and one in the head would do the job. I am not a big gun person. I don’t remember the last time I had used or even cleaned my guns. I didn’t have that many, a shotgun, a deer rifle, S&W .38 and my Ruger. The problem today was I couldn’t find the Ruger. I tried to think where I might have put it or if I lend it to anyone but couldn’t remember. Finally I just grabbed the Smith and Wesson and took off for the Deska Inn.
Well the next step in my plan didn’t work out too well either. I arrived at the motel to find the place over run with police cars. I put the .38 under my seat and got out of the car. I casually strolled over toward one of the cruisers. They were escorting a lady out of Clayton’s motel room. She had a blanket over her shoulder and a female officer had an arm around her. I was afraid to look. As they got closer to the cruiser I recognized the women. It was Susan Bradford, an acquaintance of ours. She and her husband, Barry, had graduated from high school with us. They moved up to Reading so that Barry could open up a car dealership. It was sad to see Susan but I was relieved it wasn’t Cassie. Susan was also one of Clayton’s old conquests.
As they put her in the car I overheard one officer ask, “Did she see the shooter?”
“No, she locked herself in the bathroom. We had a hell of a time getting her to come out.”
A short while later they brought Clayton out in a body bag. I can’t say I was too upset about it, but I was looking forward to putting him there myself. Oh well, some days nothing goes right.
I picked up a pizza and a six-pack on the way home.
I used the rest of the week to catch up on yard work and some repairs around the house. I didn’t feel like going back to work and now that my fun with Clayton had been sabotaged I felt some depression setting in. I saved the copy of the newspaper with the story of Claytons demise. The police had no clues and no witnesses.
I had the house spotless and a modest supper ready when Cassie got home. It was a cool homecoming, just a modest smile from each of us, and a peck on the cheek. We ate supper and chatted about how her mom and dad were doing. Both of us were being very careful not to talk about anything controversial. I cleaned up the dishes and brought her a cup of Earl Gray. She sat quietly just looking at the fingers in her lap. Slowly she raised her head.
“John, I need to explain to you what…”
“Cassie, I would rather not right now, please. Maybe another time we can talk about it. I had a rough week and I am really not up to it.”
“But?”
“Please, humor me. Enjoy your tea.”
It was an awkward silence. I took the newspaper with the article about Clayton and handed it to her. She looked at me and read the paper without saying anything. She put the paper down and again looked at me for some sign of approval to speak. I gave her none.
“I think I’ll take a shower and go to bed early. I am a little tired from the drive.”
“I’ve haven’t been sleeping too good lately. I’ll just catch a few winks on the couch. Good night.”
“Good night John.”
I watched her go up the stairs as I took the teacups to the kitchen. It looked like it would be a while until things were back to normal.
After two weeks I moved back into the bedroom. After about six weeks we started to have sex again. It took four months until our relationship got close to normal. It would never again be the same but we got close. We didn’t have any more night talks. We never discussed the episode with Clayton. Cassie got pregnant. We were both happy.
With a baby on the way we needed a new car, a station wagon of course. I stopped by to see Barry Bradford. He was in the process of divorcing Susan and wasn’t at all shy about discussing it.
“It’s a shame that she was locked in the bathroom and wasn’t able to identify the shooter.” I remarked.
Barry gave me a funny look. I was trying to figure out what I had said that was wrong. Our conversation up to this point had been open and candid and it looked like I had tripped over my own tongue.
“John, There was no mention of her being locked in the bathroom in any of the newspaper articles or on TV.”
“Oh, well I must have seen it some place.” I didn’t want to tell him I had been at the crime scene.
“I have every clipping and all the information on what happened and that was not covered any where. The police kept that information secret to help them in their investigation. They also did not reveal that the shooter used a .22.”
“I don’t remember but I must have heard it some place.”
Barry stared at me without saying anything for the longest time. He knew that Cassie had also been a victim of Clayton’s charm. Hell, everybody knew all the girls that Clayton had laid because he bragged about each and every one. A big grin came over his face.
“John, I’m going to make you the best deal on the best station wagon on this lot. Come on, lets go pick one out.”
I assumed that Barry had reached a conclusion as to where I got my information about Susan being in the bathroom. He was wrong, but I didn’t see any point in correcting him. Barry eventually got his own Ford dealership and I got a great deal on a new car every two years for the rest of my life.
Cassie and I had two beautiful daughters. Our marriage continued to get stronger despite the one set back. When we attended social functions Cassie always tried to stay close to me. If at any time during the event some hopeful guy hit up on her, she would walk up to me, take my hand and whisper in my ear “Time to go.”
I always knew what that meant. It happened a lot because Cassie was turning into quite the head turner. She was aging well. Some of our regular hosts were aware of this little quirk she had and they started to react to it also. When they saw Cassie and I leaving early they would start an inquisition to determine which ass hole pulled the gaff and chastise the hell out of him. It became a regular party game in our circle of people. Once in a blue moon, I would take Cassie’s hand and whisper in her ear. She thought that was hilarious but we left anyhow.
Our twentieth class reunion arrived and we drove down to Lancaster to attend. It was like all reunions with a lot of hand shakings and bull shitting. The affair went fairly well and we were having a good time.
As the evening drew to an end a well dressed, well groomed, lady approached the table. It was Janet Brenner, Clayton’s wife. She walked up to us, held out her hand and asked me to dance. I looked at Cassie and she nodded it was OK. It was a slow dance and I was very careful not to do anything that was inappropriate. The song ended and we remained standing on the dance floor. She was facing me and holding both my hands.
“Clayton used to keep a pocket scheduling book. When the police returned his things to me, the book was included. I don’t know why they didn’t keep it or at least read it. I read the entire book, several times and then I destroyed it. I was waiting for this opportunity to personally thank you for making my last twelve years absolutely wonderful. My new husband is the greatest thing that ever happened to me and without you it never would have been possible.”
I knew what she was referring to and I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was wrong. I figured I had nothing to lose by letting her believe her fantasy. I kept my best poker face on and let her talk. I am not sure what exactly was in his book but it appears that she was able to put a few things together and determined that I had set her free.
She leaned into me and gave me a gentle kiss on the cheek. I glanced over and saw that Cassie was watching intently. I walked Janet to her seat and a large menacing man stood up.
“John, this is my husband, Harold Stanton. Harold I’d like you to meet John Wagner.”
“John, its great to finally meet you. Janet and I appreciate everything that you did for us.” I thought my hand was going to turn blue because he was squeezing it so hard.
“I am glad to see that things worked out so well for you guys. I hope you have a lot of good years together.” It was hokey as hell but I was at a loss. I smiled and gave a little nod with my head.
Walking back to my table I noticed that Cassie was sitting with her head down fiddling with her fingers on her lap. She did that when she was nervous. As I sat down she started to talk. I put my index finger and thumb together and slowly drew them across my lips. She gave me a soft smile and didn’t say anything more about it.
We were both tired and it was about a two hours drive back to Reading. There was a little bit of discussion about what went on during the evening but nothing about Janet. We got home, checked on the kids and hit the sack. I turned the lights out after giving her a quick peck on the cheek.
Everything was quiet but I knew she wasn’t sleeping.
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“What did Janet said to you?”
“Janet told me that she and her new husband were very happy and that I should thank you for her.” I lied.