Copyright © 2012 Flavian

Chapter 1

It was something as simple as font size in a web browser that gave me my first clue that my loving wife of the past ten years might be unfaithful to me.

As a financial advisor, I am paid to notice the details of my clients' financial situations. I recommend appropriate strategies for them to follow in order to meet their long term financial goals in life -- strategies involving debt, credit, savings, investments, retirement planning, allocating funds for the kids' college expenses, and life insurance.

I have been very successful in this endeavor to the point where I am highly respected in the business community of our town. Referrals keep my business going and growing; not only here in town, but with clients in the surrounding towns and general community as well. Paying attention to details was a huge part of my success.

After marrying Claire and moving to her hometown -- from listening at various gatherings of her friends and from general talk in town -- I had found out over the years that she'd had a wild youth in her high school days before we met. She had been a cheerleader in high school and had hung with the A-crowd. Those folks only included the so-called cool set. They shunned anyone in the B-crowd as also-rans. Those folks did not figure in any of the invitations to their social events, which sometimes, evidently, had included wild parties involving drinking and at least heavy make-out sessions, if not outright sex.

Most everyone in town now seemed to agree -- and I had believed -- that she had finally settled down when we had married and put down roots as a couple here and had begun our family. She stayed away from the old wild crowd and actually had begun to cultivate friendly relations with the old B-crowd members, many of whom had visited our home and were part of the group that we, as a couple, called friends.

Domestic problems were not limited to any particular income strata or class of folks anywhere, and our town was no different. It seemed, though, that the old B-crowd folks were much more stable in their marriages than those of the old A-crowd. At least the family court docket reports in the local newspaper seemed to bear that out.

Unlike a lot of the folks in our town who had grown up here together and met their life partners while in school, I was a move-in. I grew up two states over. Claire and I were the same age and had met at Iowa State University. Neither set of our parents was happy with paying out-of-state tuition for us, but we had made them proud by graduating on time and with reasonably good job prospects after college.

I had been a Business major and Claire had majored in Interior Design. We had met and had maintained an on-again-off-again relationship starting our junior year. We had finally settled down to be a couple in our final semester of senior year. During graduation week, I had asked her to marry me, and she had eagerly consented. We had come back here to her hometown, and been married in a ceremony attended by her family and a lot of her long-term childhood friends.

At the reception following the wedding, I had enjoyed meeting her friends and relatives. I particularly noted that she was on extremely good terms with a lot of the guys she had grown up with. I also noted that, with few exceptions, a lot of the girls she knew were not as warm toward her.

Hearing one girl named Joy say that she was glad that Claire McNamee was finally married and out of circulation so that she wouldn't have to worry about 'Harvey' anymore -- whoever he may be; her husband, I presumed at the time -- gave me pause. But the activities surrounding the expected events at a typical wedding reception -- dances, bouquet toss, garters, etc. -- had me distracted. I had discounted those whispers whenever they had infrequently come to mind over the years -- until now, ten years later, as I looked back over our time together and reflected.

One incident at the wedding reception had stuck with me, leaving me with a bad feeling afterward. One of Claire's men friends, a guy named Dwight Newman, seemed to be holding her a little too intimately during a couple of the dances they shared. Dwight's wife, Carol, was standing next to me when Dwight and Claire were sharing a third dance of the day, and he seemed to have his hands a little too low on my new bride's back -- almost down to her ass, and she was not only not objecting, she was laughing with him the whole time.

Carol, who had been very nice to me during the reception, looked at her inebriated husband and his idiotic actions with my new bride in public. She had looked up at my frowning and annoyed expression and had put a restraining hand on my arm.

Carol had told me, "They used to be an item when they were in high school, Wade. And Dwight was a regular hellion here before he went off to college and came back as a schoolteacher. But you don't need to worry about him now. Sometimes, he gets a little carried away when he's had too much to drink, but I am pretty good at keeping an eye on him and keeping him from getting too far out of line. And this is still a relatively small town; his being a teacher in a public elementary school keeps him under the community microscope as well."

With that being said, she had gone out and cut in on the two dancers, peeling Dwight away from my new bride with a big smile. Dwight had acted momentarily surprised and irritated, but then he had smiled at Carol and given Claire a shrug before turning to dance with his own wife. Claire had immediately been whisked into the arms of another of her male friends to dance, just as her parents had approached me to tell me they were extending the open bar hours.

After the reception, Claire and I left for a honeymoon in Key West, and returned, tanned and sexually spent after screwing like rabbits for a week. We had enjoyed each other's company immensely, cementing our relationship with pleasant times spent together in pursuits outside the bedroom as well as inside.

Unlike some honeymoons I've heard about and read about, we did not have any episodes of the new bride being hit on and isolated from the husband for hanky-panky, nor did we experience any unpleasantness concerning her overexposure at the beach or pool. There were no 'true confession' moments following the wedding, since we had already discussed our past sexual histories together and had opened ourselves to each other -- warts and all. Well, almost all. I'll get to that.

While Claire had evidently had a more colorful sexual history than I, we reassured each other that we were both over our seasons of sowing wild oats and were now single-focused on loving each other. Our honeymoon was simply a very nice and loving time for both of us.

We came home to Claire's hometown and I went to work for a national brokerage that had established an office there. Dillard's, a retailer at the only mall in town, hired Claire to be one of their consultants and buyers for the home store side of the business dealing with home furnishings and accessories. Her dad was the assistant manager in charge of the retail clothing side of things for the store -- family members working at the same business in a relatively small town? No problem.

Once in a while, we would encounter some of Claire's old A-crowd friends -- it is sort of inevitable in a town of this size. Claire would be polite and make sure to introduce them to me and me to them. But, she seemed to be trying to separate herself from the old wilder side of life that she had lived in her teens and seemed to be trying to avoid the old crowd. She also seemed to me to be opting instead toward cultivating new friendships among her acquaintances within the old B-crowd.

Her high school graduating class organizes reunions every five years. We had missed the Five-Year reunion because of the requirement of my job that my wife and I attend a national sales and award meeting in Kansas City -- Claire had been somewhat pissed at having to miss the reunion because of my job. But I had only been with the company for about one year, and I did not want to screw anything up because of a social misstep.

For the Ten-Year reunion, we had to miss because of a minor infection Claire had contracted following the C-Section delivery of our second child -- an infection that had her recovering in the hospital on the day of the event.

The Fifteen-Year event was fast approaching and it appeared as if nothing would keep us from this one -- Claire was very excited at the prospect.

The missed Five-Year reunion was only one reason for our annoyance with my employer. Other reasons, mainly internal regulatory requirements, seemed to be holding me back from helping my clients in the best ways to meet their financial life goals.

After about three years of working at the local branch office of the national brokerage, I took a risk by resigning and established my own financial planning business. And I guess the extra hours that I spent during the next two years after leaving that brokerage, getting my client base into place, and getting my reputation established, paid off. I was able to settle back to a reasonable pace in a relatively short period of time.

The good thing about doing what I was doing was that I could do it locally and rarely had to travel. Most of the banking and investment stuff I could handle via correspondence, teleconferences, email, and online transactions. Only a few times a year did I have to travel to meet with the life insurance companies for which I recommended products to my clients. I also had to travel a couple of times a year for, uh, other reasons; but I will tell you about those later.

Now, after a little over ten years in the work force, with the last seven of those years being my own man in the world of financial planning, I can say that my wife and I are on our way to being very comfortable financially in the short and long terms, barring any disasters, like a death -- or maybe a divorce.

About those 'other reasons' for travel to which I alluded earlier. Sometimes I was required to travel in order to meet with 'special clients' to discuss confidential financial arrangements. Allow me to explain.

In my sophomore year at Iowa State, I had helped a guy who became a good friend -- Sonny Giancomo -- avoid a major confrontation with the law. We did not know each other very well before showing up at the same party one weekend. But we became fast friends after I helped get him out of a window, despite his heavy state of intoxication, and through and out of the back yard of the house during the mêlée involving a police raid because of an anonymous tip about drugs at the party.

Like most college parties at the time, there was an abundance of drugs at this one. Several people were arrested and a couple of them pointed vaguely to the name of Salvatore 'Sonny' Giancomo as the source of the majority of the stash that was confiscated.

Sonny and I were having pie and coffee at a Denny's a couple of hours later when he finally sobered up enough to thank me for getting him out of the house before the police had arrived. He promised me his eternal friendship and loyalty if I would continue to be a loyal friend in return.

He had speed-dialed a number on his cell and had spoken to someone who I later learned was an attorney for Sonny's family -- by that, I mean his extended 'familia.' The lawyer had stepped in with local authorities and Sonny had not even been required to show up at the police station to answer the inquiries related to the vague claims of those who had tried to finger Sonny as the source of the drugs. The whole matter was simply ... dropped.

Sonny was the son and heir apparent of the man who ran the local and regional businesses and activities that helped to transform the provenance of the extended family's finances from 'dirty' to 'reasonably clean.' In other words, Sonny's dad basically oversaw the money laundering efforts of a branch of what, at one time, had been part of the Gambino crime family. It was called something else now, but I have not yet been informed what, and it does not really matter as long as I keep them happy.

From that night on, I maintained a relationship with Sonny that continued into the present. Through that connection, as well as through my own business dealings in the world of finance, I had become quite adept at the establishment and management of domestic as well as off shore accounts and other financial avenues for the movement and holding of assets that 'special clients' wanted to keep secret.

Today, I maintain quite a lucrative off shore deposit of my own assets -- unknown to the Feds as well as my own wife -- accumulated from helping Sonny's family to clean up the look and feel of their incomes, and they compensate me very well for that service. I have used my skills to help several other prominent legitimate clients to establish off shore accounts as well, helping a couple of them keep from suffering tremendous losses during particularly ugly divorce cases.

So, my business dealings leave me in a position of not having to worry too much about my family's financial outlook for the future. As for day-to-day expenses, we have the appearance -- one that I work hard to maintain -- of being a typical family dealing with balancing a family budget and being frugal in our purchases.

Claire, in addition to her job at Dillard's, has a franchise for Majestic Jewelry and arranges for different ladies in the community to host Majestic Parties in their homes -- similar to Tupperware Parties. She and the other Majestic representatives gather to make presentations at the homes of various ladies in the community periodically and to take and place orders which are fulfilled mainly online. Yeah, with my income and with her income from Dillard's, along with her part-time income, financially, we are doing okay; actually a little better than okay, but we don't flaunt it.

And now, back to my current situation ...

Within my home, I handle the management of the household finances for our family using a commercial accounting software product. When I say 'our family' that includes our daughter, Mindy, 7; our son, Paul, who just turned 5; Claire; and, of course, me -- my name is Wade Sloan. The computer in the library of our house is top-of-the-line and I keep it up-to-date with regular online updates of the operating system, anti-virus software, and our other software applications.

The ability to notice the details that I mentioned earlier has helped me deal with my own life situation very well for as long as I can remember. But when the font size in the web browser showed me something I had not been aware of up to that point, I came to the conclusion that I had not paid enough attention in one area of my life. That area was the one dealing with my wife's activities and daily routine; the activities and routine that she had may have been skillfully manipulating in order to cheat on me, it would appear at first glance.

A 'blink-out' of power had caused the computer to be interrupted at an inopportune moment. It was just as I had been in the process of re-starting the computer to allow for online updates that I had downloaded to be applied to the operating system. Thus, when it finally re-started again after the 'blink-out' the display settings were out of whack -- with icons out of order and screen resolution set way too big. I reset those items to the settings I preferred and attempted to open an internet connection.

When the browser opened, a box asked if I wanted to go to the page on which I was last working. I clicked 'OK' and was taken back to the login page for the bank site where I monitor our checking account online, and had been working while the computer updated in the background. When the spreadsheet-style listing came up showing the recent checks we had written and the recent debit card purchases, I noticed that the font size was smaller than we normally keep it. Before I readjusted it to the size I was used to seeing, I noticed two details that I otherwise would have missed due to their normally being cut off by the column width.

My wife keeps her calendar on the computer with scheduled events, having a notification feature that pops up during the day with sufficient and timely notification for her to prepare and, if necessary, travel. On one particular day that I was remembering from the previous week, I was aware of her plan to attend a Majestic Party hosted at a lady's house on the east side of town. Remember, I am pretty good at noticing and remembering details. Claire had evidently stopped to purchase some food items on the way back from the party from the grocery store chain that we typically use.

The grocery chain that we frequent has two stores in our community -- one on the east side of town and one on the west side. Because she had used the debit card for the purchase that day, the bank screen showed the transaction. Because of the smaller font size, I was able to note something about that transaction for which I would otherwise have been clueless.

The store number for the store at which she had made her grocery purchases was for the one on the west side of town instead of the one nearest to the party location on the east side -- from which Claire had come afterwards -- supposedly; I recognized it because I sometimes stop there for items on the way home. Additionally, that evening, she had purchased gas at a convenience store on the west side, the location now visible because of the smaller font -- a fact that would have been screened from me by the column width limitation otherwise.

In my formative years before college, I had come to cling to a couple of quotes from famous people that had served to establish part of my outlook on life. In high school, a girl who was supposed to be going steady with me had burned me. She had sneaked around with one of the football team captains before I caught her and dropped her like a bad habit. From that incident of broken trust, I had adopted the late President Ronald Reagan's approach to dealing with the Soviet Union when it came to nuclear weapons disarmament: "Trust, but verify."

In my junior high years I had been bullied a bit. Following my considerable growth spurt in my high school years, I had been able to inflict considerable pain and physical discomfort on those who had sought to continue said bullying. From that period in my life, I had adopted a line from John Wayne in his role as John Bernard Books in the movie, 'The Shootist.'

"I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people and I expect the same from them."

If Claire, my supposedly loving and faithful wife, was misleading me in any way about her activities, I would be very disappointed and angry. Because of what I was seeing on the computer screen, I was going to have to institute a positive regimen of verifying her activities. If she was, in fact, cheating, then I would need to inflict harsh retribution on her and the one -- or ones -- with whom she was cheating. After all, I won't be wronged or insulted; and I could be very vindictive if it turned out that this was the case.

"So, you want her followed and checked out?" asked Sonny when I called him the next day from my office.

"I guess that is what it is going to take, Sonny. I have already missed out on just where she went on Thursday, the day that she was on the wrong side of town.

"Maybe you can track her electronically with a GPS-type thing or something like that. That way, she wouldn't spot a tail, nor would any of her friends. As small as this town is, and with almost everyone knowing who everyone else is, an out-of-towner would stand out like a cat at the dog pound."
"Okay," said Sonny, "I can arrange that by sundown today. Do you have any idea who she might be seeing? That could give us a start on the rest."

"I know the general area of town that she was in when she should have been elsewhere. And I've got some names that come to mind based on what I've heard in passing conversations over the years and from what I have seen and heard at parties and other gatherings. The men who match those names all live in that part of town.

"I've also done a thumb-through of her high school senior yearbook -- boy; that was enlightening, I'll tell you; at least based on what they wrote by the pictures and in the pages in the back," I said.

Several entries handwritten in her yearbook referred to 'The Quarry' and vague references to 'the Friday before Memorial Day.' I only knew of one rock quarry in the area -- now abandoned -- and I could surmise, from the entries written in her yearbook, that some major incident had occurred there about fifteen years ago -- sometime around the end of May, Memorial Day Weekend -- and it had been significant not only for Claire, but for several other people in her high school class, most of them boys -- now men, quite a few of whom still lived here in town.

I gave Sonny the men's and women's names that I suspected as possibly being part of her old high school rowdy crowd, along with addresses for them that I had gathered from the local phone directory.

"You know, Wade, you are going to need to keep tabs of her phone conversations as well. I got a guy that I use who can put a wireless bug in each extension of your land line phone tied to a recorder right there in your home. He can even plant a tiny device in your wife's cell phone. Does she have a plastic protector for her cell phone?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah," I replied. I gave him the brand of cell phone she used with our wireless service.

"Good, good," he replied. "My guy can put a wafer-thin pickup between the body of the phone and the plastic case. She won't even be able to feel the difference. You just have to get the phone to him; he can even drop by your house tonight or tomorrow and you can slip out back with the cell phone and he can hook it up in about three or four minutes.

"And the neat thing is that it is powered by her cell phone battery. As long as she keeps the phone charged, the bug is active and ready. And what it picks up will transmit over your cell phone carrier's network specifically to another digital recorder at your house."

I could hear the pride in his voice and I had to admit that I was surprised at just how sophisticated his electronic surveillance methods were proving to be. I guess it made sense in the world in which he had grown up to keep close tabs on certain people. Trust, but verify, indeed.

"Please try to keep this as inexpensive as possible, Sonny," I said. "I don't want to have to come up with a lot of money beyond what we have in our checking and savings. Claire does not know about my other assets, and I sort of want to keep it that way until I can be absolutely sure about her. In fact, I still want to keep that knowledge of our true financial picture from her even later on, just on general principles, especially if she proves to be unfaithful to me."

"Don't you worry about anything, my friend," assured Sonny, "This won't cost you a dime. After all, look at all the money you are saving us every day with the way you have set things up for us," I knew who the 'us' to whom he referred was. "And, hey, you are a friend in need of help, and I am there for you, Buddy. We'll get you the answers you need in no time at all."

That evening, after supper, I helped my daughter, Mindy, with her arithmetic -- basically adding and subtracting was all she was doing in the second grade at this time -- and her word list, explaining what the words meant and helping her learn how to spell them. Claire straightened up the kitchen and played with little Paul, who was still getting used to kindergarten.

"I'm trying to do what you tell me, Daddy," said my seven-year-old daughter, "I'm trying to be the biggest and the best in school. I'm going to be the biggest winner when they give out the awards at the end of the year and I'm the best speller in second grade."

I had been encouraging Mindy -- ever since she had been able to understand -- to be competitive; to be the biggest and best at whatever she tried to do, but not pushy or arrogant. That included her approach to school work as well as any sports or other activities she tried to undertake. That positive attitude of setting goals and seeking to achieve them, coupled with learning humility and sportsmanship, would serve her well as she grew into adulthood.

At nine o'clock, Claire and I put both the kids to bed. Then we sat together on the sofa in the den, sharing some wine and a tender moment of soft conversation and gentle touching.

"Claire," I said softly, "I probably don't tell you often enough these days, but," I lifted her chin and looked straight into her eyes, "I love you more now than I did when we were first married, and that love keeps on growing the longer we're together."

Her eyes widened in delight at my statement. She put her wineglass down and reached behind my neck to pull my head down to her as she pasted a very firm and active kiss on my lips. Finally pulling back, she said, "Oh, Wade, I love you, too; so much." We finished the wine and put the glasses back in the kitchen before retiring to the bedroom.

For the next hour-and-a-half, Claire tried to kill me with sex. What a way to go!

As usual since we had married, she denied me nothing and offered me everything. She sucked my cock to completion and swallowed, causing my vision to dim and sparkle with purple flashes. All the while, she was maintaining loving eye contact with me. Then she continued to suck, all the while licking it with her velvety tongue, it until I was hard again.

She pushed me back and mounted me from above, riding me for a good while, rocking her majestic body over me and bringing me off again after experiencing her own orgasms, at least twice in a major way, and once with a tense shiver and moan. After a period of resting in each other's arms, caressing and kissing, she sucked me to hardness yet again -- a feat I had thought impossible -- and I mounted her in classic missionary position, but with her legs propped in my biceps, opening her body to me as fully and completely as she possibly could. I rocked gently in and out, ensuring that I brushed against her clit with my pubic bone on the down strokes.

She approached orgasm after about ten minutes of this movement, but she just could not go over. I felt like I was not going to cum again, but I was just luxuriating in the intimate contact of our sex organs and the loving motion and eye contact we were making; not to mention the joy we both derived from my kissing and licking of her nipples and her lips while we rocked in love's ideal wave motion. Finally, we realized that we had made it as far as we were going to go for the evening sexually and just relaxed in a tender mutual embrace.

Afterward, we used the bathroom and cleaned up a bit before getting into bed and into each other's arms. We remained naked, planning to sleep that way. Ever since Paul had turned four, we had no longer feared his coming in to ask to sleep with us. He had outgrown most of his nighttime fears and thus had allowed us to go back to sleeping naked, as we had done for the years before he had become a toddler.

"Wade; what you told me downstairs earlier ... about our love growing ..." Claire had tears in her eyes now. "I want you to know that I feel the same way, Baby. And I just hope ..." She suddenly looked away and the tears that had formed began to trickle down her cheeks.

"Hope what, Sweetie?" I asked as I kissed the tears away from her cheeks.

She took a breath. "I just hope that you never stop loving me, even if ... well ... no matter what happens."

Something was bothering her, I could tell. "Even if what, Sweetie? What do you mean, 'no matter what happens,' ... what could happen?" I was watching her face and saw a touch of sadness there.

Finally, she sighed and said, "Oh, we can't predict what might happen sometimes. I just don't want anything to come between us; be it money, jobs ..." here she paused and looked away as she continued, "people ... or strange circumstances."

"What strange circumstances are you anticipating, Honey?" I asked. I was focused on her every nuance at that point, watching for the details, her 'tells'.

She sighed again and smiled at me before kissing me on the lips and saying, "Oh, I don't know. Anyway, it's getting late and we both need to be alert for work tomorrow. Just hold me now and let's get to sleep."

I did not press her, but turned her so that her gorgeous naked ass was spooned against my spent and now flaccid cock. I held her right breast gently cupped in my right hand as she turned out the light and we went to sleep.

I am usually up about an hour before Claire, so that I can go for a run in the neighborhood before having breakfast and getting ready for work. As I prepared coffee before my run the next morning, I was startled by a soft knock against my glass patio door.

I looked around suddenly to see a man standing there in the dimness of the early morning smiling and waving with a friendly demeanor so as not to cause me discomfort. It did not work as he thought; because his at-least-six-foot-three-two-hundred-fifty-pound body and countenance were scary, no matter how friendly he tried to make his smile, especially in the dim light of early morning. I glanced at the stairs and listened for any sign that Claire might be awake. There was only silence and stillness.

Cautiously, I approached the patio door and braced as I opened it, in case this was not Sonny's guy after all. I relaxed when the man said in a surprisingly soft and higher-than-I-expected voice, "Can you get me the cell phone? I just need a couple of minutes." I beckoned him to come on in, but he declined, choosing to remain outside, where he could make a quick withdrawal from the scene if necessary.

I retrieved Claire's cell phone from her purse in the kitchen and brought it out to him. He examined it for a couple of seconds under a small Maglite and went to work on it. True to his word, he had the purple plastic back cover off the case, the battery compartment open, the attachment in place, the wafer-thin receiver stuck on, and the phone with cover back to what looked like its original condition in under five minutes. I was impressed.

"That ought to do it. For what it's worth, I hope that this is all wasted time and effort. I always hate it when Sonny's friends and associates get involved in the ugliness of cheating and divorce," he said, offering me his hand to shake.

"Oh, do you have a key so that I can get in the house later to put the bugs on the phones after you folks leave the house?" I got a spare from our key rack in the kitchen and returned and handed it to him. I told him to leave it under the steps of the back deck when he finished in the house and locked up afterward, and I would find it.

After I closed the patio door, I looked again and he had simply vanished as if he had never been there. I returned Claire's cell phone to her purse and went about my routine as I usually did every morning, starting with my run. Starting today, my daily routine would be anything but usual until I could figure out what Claire was up to.

Chapter 2

A package arrived by UPS in mid-morning on Wednesday. When I opened it, I found what looked like a typical GPS device like the one I kept in my Toyota 4Runner. The note in the package, from Sonny, indicated that this particular GPS was not used to show my location or direction of travel. It was to show me the location of Claire's car -- the tracker had been planted under the body of her car and I could see where she was -- if she was in her car -- any time I turned on the device.

My receiver could be powered by the car power adapter when I was on the road or by the USB connector to my computers at work or home so that I could monitor her location while at my desk or in my den. This was way cool; I felt kinda like Daniel Craig in one of the new James Bond movies -- or, as the British entertainment media called him, 'James Blonde.'

Sonny's note also included a recommendation that I should check my email a couple of times a day for electronic records of her travels. Twice daily, the logs from the GPS device would be downloaded to a server somewhere out there in the world and the listings would be sent to me as an attachment to an email at work disguised as a legitimate marketing message supposedly offering me special discounts to fly with Delta Airlines. I just needed to make sure that my email client was set so that it did not screen these out as spam.

Now, I simply had to watch and wait. God, I hate that! I am just not the patient type. I need action rather than idle waiting.

With that, I called in my Administrative Assistant, Grace, and we went over the list of clients who were most in need of being scheduled for a meeting with me for an annual financial review.

That evening, the routine was just that -- routine. We had supper and helped the kids with homework and enjoyed some family time. When the kids went down, I told Claire that I needed to check email and that I wanted to read a bit from an eBook that I downloaded from one of my favorite online eBook sites -- David Baldacci had a new suspense thriller out that looked promising.

Retiring to the den, I woke the computer and went quickly through the home emails. Only a couple of them were of interest. They were from mutual friends of Claire and me, and they informed us of plans for upcoming end-of-school-year parties and kids' activities being planned. We were now in the middle of May and school was scheduled to end on the fifth of June -- shortly after Memorial Day. There were also early notices for Claire's upcoming Fifteen-Year reunion of her graduating class, scheduled for the last week in June.

I had closed the den door -- Claire was watching television in the family room -- but the computer desk was situated so that I could face the door. I activated a file transfer software application on the computer and plugged the USB cables from the two remote phone recorders in my desk drawer to the USB hub sitting beside the computer. I wanted to transfer copies of all the recordings from her cell phone and the land line phone here at the house to the computer so that I could burn copies of anything significant to DVD-R or CD-R if needed.

Once the transfer was complete, I checked to see that the memory cards for the two digital recorders still had sufficient available space for recording a couple of more days of telephone traffic. Then, I disconnected them and put them back into stand-by mode and began to listen to the collection of audio gleaned from the land line phones at the house and from Claire's cell phone. I used my ear buds, so that the sound would be limited to my ears only as I listened and watched the door.

It dawned on me that I might need to get with Sonny later about some way to capture any message traffic that might occur when Claire used the texting feature on her phone. I sent myself an email to my work address to remind me to call in the morning, and then I cleared out the 'Sent' copy to keep Claire from seeing it if she checked the email.

The home phone traffic was limited only to a couple of solicitor calls that went directly to voice mail. Sometimes I wondered why we even kept land line phones anymore, since most of our communication in today's world was done on mobile devices. The traffic on Claire's cell phone today did not pick up until she turned the phone on as she was leaving work, and the only call recorded was her calling her stylist for a hair appointment for the upcoming Saturday morning.

Ah, well. So far, so good, I guess. It was only the first day, after all. I would just need to persevere for a while and see where this was all going to lead -- if anywhere.

The week continued with nothing uneventful on the personal or electronic front. We both went to work and sent the kids off to, and picked them up from, the schools they attended. Nothing even remotely questionable came up from the recordings or the travel logs for the tracker on Claire's car for the next few days. Claire had her hair appointment on Saturday for a cut and wash and I did some work around the house and we made love passionately and vigorously on Saturday night for about two hours.

Finally, Sunday afternoon, there was one call of interest to the house land line. I listened to it with interest on Sunday night just before bed. I was using my ear buds, as usual, to keep the listening to myself without fear of anyone else hearing.

[Claire] "Hello?"

[Female voice] "Hey, Claire Bear, how are you?"

[Clair, with an audible sigh] "Hello, Gay. What's on your little mind?" Claire did not sound enthusiastic at all. In fact, she sounded a bit irritable. I remembered that Gay was one of the old A-crowd that Claire had been keeping at a social distance.

[Gay, evidently] "Now, Claire, you know that we are all excited about your upcoming return engagement. The last one was so exciting and the sex was just so hot!" She actually giggled when she finished saying this.

[Claire] "Look, Gay, I can't talk about that now ... here on the home phone. Wade might hear. He can never find out about that other time. I just don't think he could stand to keep me around if he found out."

[Gay] "Well, he doesn't have to find out if you stay calm. Look, Dwight, Harvey, and Tim each want to have a solo hook-up with you before the big Memorial Day bash -- you know, to knock off the edge, so to speak. They all still think that sex with you is the best thing since Graham Crackers. I know that Tim has been drooling over the video that he keeps on our computer. He has watched it almost every night this week. Then, after he watches it, he gives me a hell of a ride after seeing you in action; it gets him all worked up."

[Gay continues] "They worked out a schedule for this coming week with Harvey on Tuesday, Tim and me on Wednesday, and Dwight on Thursday; Harvey and Dwight will arrange for their families to be out of the house on the nights of your expected visits. Then they will all three be there, of course, for the main event at the quarry on Friday."

[Claire, following a moment of silence] "I wish there were some other way. It would kill Wade if he were to find out about this ... or about the other time. I can't lose him, Gay; I just can't."

I could hear emotion in her voice and detected that she was probably on the verge of crying as she said it. Maybe she was experiencing some remorse for having already cheated on me and for the plans -- which they were discussing -- to continue doing so.

[Gay] "Now, Honey, if you are careful, he won't find out. After all, it will all be over after Friday, and we can simply keep those sexy memories for the rest of our lives and then be able to start up a program of making a lot of new memories, if you are game." Gay giggled again.

[Claire, after a moment's hesitation] "We'll see if it actually works out like you think it will. I just need to be as discreet as possible for now. Nothing about this must surface, or else my marriage and my life as I know it will be very much in danger."

[Gay, with irritation now in her voice] "You worry too much. Just make plans for your visits to see the guys individually and be sure that you are careful. We don't want poor Wade to get all upset at this point, now do we? Anyway, I gotta go. I'll call you later in the week to see how things went; and, of course, I'll be there Friday for the big event; just like last time. Bye."
Something in Gay's voice when she spoke about me held an edge of disdain. This bitch evidently did not think too much of me. I had no idea why, unless it involved my being a move-in rather than having grown up here with all of them. I had only met Gay a couple of times in passing at various events. Claire had not said too much to me about her, other than giving me the fact that they had grown up here in town and gone to school together and they had both been cheerleaders in high school.

[Claire] "Yeah ... bye." But by then, the other woman had already broken the connection.

I went to the family room and walked directly over to the book shelves that held Claire's high school yearbook from her senior year. Taking it back to the den, I sat down and thumbed through, looking for references to the names I had heard discussed.

I found Gay first, on the sixth page of individual shots, recognizing her from the few times I had encountered her. The legend identified her as Gay Marshall back then. Turning to the back, I looked up her name in the picture index and found several references. These turned out to be pictures of her with the varsity cheerleader squad. My breath caught when I saw just how gorgeous Claire looked in her cheerleader uniform standing next to Gay in the group shot. I also recognized Mindy's teacher, Carol Newman (Carol Hinson back then) as one of the other varsity cheerleaders.

Like Claire, Gay had been a real babe back then, but the expression on Gay's face in almost every picture showed that she was really full of herself, reflecting vanity and a sort of smugness. One shot showed her receiving a bouquet and a crown at the homecoming football game. The player presenting the bouquet was identified as Tim Harmon.

Now I had the Tim more than likely identified as Gay's husband, who I had seen around town as well. I did not know him personally, but I knew who he was, since his face, though a little older and fuller, looked down from a billboard out on Highway 6, advertising his auto dealership in town. I got the White Pages and looked up his name in the Residential section; I found it listed as 'Harmon, Tim and Gay', followed by the address on the west side of town and the telephone number. Well, that answered my question about how to locate Tim and Gay.

Back in the yearbook, I looked for other pictures of Tim and found football team pictures. In a shot of the offensive backfield players together, I found pictures labeled with the names Harvey Bland and Dwight Newman. I had remembered hearing about Harvey at my wedding reception -- I deal in details, remember. I had also met him and seen him at Chamber of Commerce meetings a couple of times, but had never had the chance to talk to him much. The White Pages got me his address -- also on the west side of town.

Dwight was someone I knew pretty well, along with his wife, Carol. I saw him and Carol regularly as a client couple and I remembered him from our wedding reception. Our families did not socialize, but we ran into each other quite often, since Mindy was a student in Carol's second grade class and Dwight was now the principal of John Bankhead Magruder Elementary School, where Carol taught.

I had always thought that Carol was nice, and she seemed to want to work hard at educating her students. Her parent-teacher conferences with Claire and me were always thorough and with the best interests of Mindy in mind. I would say that it was a good thing that she taught elementary school. As hot as Carol was, it would have been difficult for the boys in junior high or high school to pay attention to the subject matter with her in front of the class.

Dwight seemed to want little to do with me except to have me manage his investments and insurance. I did that as professionally as possible, even though he fought me on most of my recommendations.

When Claire and I attended school functions, there were not many instances where we got to interact with Dwight much, given the large size of the school. But, during the few times when we did, I always got the uneasy feeling that Dwight was looking at Claire with a little more than just the professional interest of an educator. Sometimes, I saw Carol eyeing me with more than just passing interest as well.

When I went up to bed, Claire was already asleep. That was good, as I did not want to have to carry on any kind of conversation with her right then. I was pissed after hearing the phone recordings that revealed what sounded like confirmation to me of her deception. I knew that she would pick up on my anger in a heartbeat if she were awake.

It took me about an hour to get to sleep. Before I drifted off, I vowed that I would get Sonny to help me thwart the plans of my wife, who, by early indications, really was turning out to be a cheating whore.

I skipped my morning run Monday so that I could get out of the house early and avoid talking to Claire; I was still pissed and I did not want her to pick up on it. I left her a note saying that this was a busy week and that I was spending some unusually long hours working on client accounts for the next few days.

I monitored the movements of Claire's car with the device that Sonny had given me. It showed her going to work and her car remaining at the mall where she worked all day. Of course, she could have gone off in the middle of the day for a rendezvous with one of her men friends and I would not have been able to tell without actually staking her out and following her. I figured that, with the assets I already had in place -- thanks to Sonny -- and the information they were helping me to gather, I would soon probably have enough evidence assembled to establish a good case for divorce -- if I chose to go that route.

Why would I not go that route? If she was cheating on me, giving away to some other asshole the pussy which rightly belongs exclusively to me, then I had every right to divorce her whoring ass! And the majority of guys in my situation would do just that! With as much malice and vengeance as they could conjure up and execute!

But, damn! I loved her. Cheater or not, I loved her.

She was the mother of my wonderful children. For the good of the children, if not our own financial well-being, divorce was just not the way I preferred to go. Yeah, yeah, call me a wimp if you must, but I have to be practical as well as emotional here.

Children from broken homes developed too many emotional problems that affected their lives later on.

And one of the single most devastating financial events in a family's life is divorce.

If I could get her to stop all of this nonsense, I was probably going to keep her around; for the sake of the children; for the sake of our finances (those in the public accounts); and for the sake of the years of love and emotional investment we already had in each other. I wasn't going to let her know all of this, though. Maybe I'd let her sweat it a bit once she finally realized that I knew.

If this panned out as it was starting to look like, I would use the evidence to hang over her head like the Sword of Damocles to keep her in line for the rest of our years together. She would be on as short a leash as I could manage for the rest of her miserable life and she would feel the tug on it every day as it tightened figuratively on her lovely neck. I would make her feel my retribution for any hurt and disappointment that she might cause me for many years to come.

I know that might cause her to seek divorce from me on her own if I were to be too harsh. I would have to temper my attitude and actions to offer her just enough hope to try to tough it out.

I putzed around the office so that I could get home later that night in order to validate the story I had given her in the note that morning. I had noticed today that she had not made any attempts to call me just to say, "Hi." This was unusual. We routinely tried to communicate with each other daily. That had not happened today.

Getting in around nine, I gave Claire a perfunctory kiss and begged off supper, having already grabbed a bite in town. She was quieter than usual and did not argue when I said that I had some things to do on the den computer.

Listening to the recordings of the phone conversations, I heard nothing but routine stuff on the recording from the land line at the house. The one from her cell phone was a different story. When she had turned it on after work, and just before heading home, she had gotten a call from Harvey Bland.

[Harvey] "Hey, Good Looking."

[Claire, with what sounded like a bored or irritated tone] "What is it, Harv?"

[Harvey] "I just wanted to say that everything is set for us tomorrow at my house. Joy is taking the kids to her mother's for the afternoon and evening, and she won't be back until late. So, plan to come on over at seven and just walk in the front door. It will be open."

[Claire] "Harv, can't I get you to reconsider all of this? I mean ... what if Wade finds out? And, with the longer periods of daylight now, it will still be light at seven." I notice that Claire did not mention Harv's wife, Joy, or any concern about her finding out.

[Harvey] "Oh, Claire Bear, I would not miss this opportunity to enjoy your sweet pussy again. You are just too good to pass up. Now, no more arguing; it's going to happen again. I just wish that I had a copy of all the video and pictures, like old Tim."

[Claire, after a pause] "All right; I'll be there. But I can't stay long; just long enough for ... well ... And I need your promise of no more pictures or video! I can't have any more of those floating around."

[Harvey, laughing] "Believe me, Claire Bear; you are going to be here long enough for the both of us to enjoy a good romp in the bedroom. Just look at it as good practice for your upcoming nights with Tim and Dwight. And don't forget the fun we are all planning for Friday. Man, oh, man, that's going to be wild! And, if everything works out afterward, I won't need any new video or pictures; our continued adventures will more than make up for that!"

[Claire] "Look, I can't talk anymore. I have to get home. Goodbye, Harv."

So, she had been fucking Harvey. Here was what amounted to an audio confession of her adultery! I was so pissed I could not see straight for a few seconds! Even though it was after nine-thirty, I decided to call Sonny.

"Sonny," I started in as soon as he answered, "It's Wade. Man, I need your help big time!"

"Hey, you got it, My Man. What's the deal? You getting what you need with your spousal unit's attempts to disrespect you and cheat around?"

"Yeah; thanks for the assets. I've already got her dead to rights in all of this business captured on audio. But I want to put an end to her meets with the assholes that she's cheating on me with." I told him about the planned get-togethers she had on tap for the next night with Harvey, then Wednesday with Tim and Gay, and then again Thursday with Dwight. "I need some help in shutting down those meetings; preferably before they can happen."

I was greeted by a moment of silence on the other end. Then, "You still love her; don't you?"

His quick assessment only surprised me a little bit. I sighed and said, "Yeah. God damn it, Sonny; she's the mother of my children and the only woman I ever imagined spending my life with. Once this episode is dealt with, she and I are going to have a major sit-down and she's going to find out just how close she came to my throwing her under the bus."

"I can arrange for that to happen; literally, I mean," said Sonny.

"NO!" I shouted.

"Hey, I'm just pulling your chain," said Sonny with a short laugh. "We'll get this all sorted out without messing up one hair on her pretty little head. I can't say the same for these guys she's been dealing with. Look, you tell me what you need, and I'll pull out all the stops to get it done."

We talked about the planned upcoming activities and I asked Sonny to try to keep Claire's involvement out of the public eye with whatever he had planned for the Three Amigos ... the Three Assholes ... and Gay, too, I guess.

"Hey, I got an idea on just how to do that. But I need you to stay out of this, Wade. If you try to put your hand in, you could get burned. And you are too valuable to me as a friend and as an asset to our business for anything to happen to you. You hear?" Sonny was very serious in his tone and the emphasis he was putting into his words.

"Okay, Sonny. I won't get in the way. I promise." I was telling him the truth; just not all of it. I was planning to follow Claire so that I could be close by in case anything were to go wrong tomorrow.

I hung up with Sonny and put the computer to sleep. I couldn't help but be tense with all of this going on. I knew that I would have to come up with a cover story for Claire when I got upstairs to bed. When it came to wanting to have sex with her tonight, I did want to ... but, then again, I didn't. If she was giving it away to those other assholes, and maybe playing a game of Lickety-Split with Gay, I really did not want to touch her skanky ass right now. I figured that I had better pull out the old 'too tired from everything today' excuse.

She seemed only slightly disappointed at my lack of interest in sex, but she was quiet after my putting her off. I figured that her conscience was probably bothering her. Either that, or it wasn't bothering her at all and she was trying to get her own story straight as to how she was planning to lie to me so that she could get out of the house for the next three nights; and then again on Friday. Yep, that's just what she did.

"Wade; I have Majestic Parties that will probably go late every night all this week starting tomorrow night. I'm sorry I did not tell you earlier. But, now that I know that you are tied up with work in the evenings as well, I don't feel so bad about not being here for you.

"Mom has agreed to keep Mindy and Paul at her house overnight for Tuesday through Friday and get them to school on Wednesday through Friday mornings. Then she said she would let them stay with her for the weekend."

Claire then looked at me with a sly smile. "That way we can make up for not being able to enjoy each other's ...uh ... company all week. We can stay in bed together all weekend long, if you want to." She had one of her sexiest smiles on.

So, there it was; her cover story; pretend Majestic Jewelry get-togethers going late every night. And, with my supposed late work schedule and with her mom, Nan, watching the kids, she was going to be free to act. It might be a hoot for me to demand to see her Majestic Jewelry sales invoices later to back up all these sales parties. I'll just bet she'd shit gold bricks if I did that.

I said, as reasonably as I could, "Okay, Sweetie. Just remember that I'll hold you to your promise of all weekend in bed." With that, I kissed her and rolled over, facing away from her. She sighed and rolled to face away as well.

Chapter 3

Tuesday, I could hardly think about work at all. I had risen and left the house early, like I had on Monday, skipping my run this time. Grace, my Administrative Assistant, must have thought I was on heavy medication or something, as dopey as I was acting -- and probably looking.

I know that I had told Sonny that I would not do anything personally. But my mind was in turmoil with all sorts of ideas about what my wife was doing -- hell, had been doing -- with these guys she had known for twice as long as she had known me. I had to try to see the proof of my wife's evident infidelity for myself.

I drove to the Sheffield subdivision just outside of the downtown area, where Harvey and Joy Bland had their house -- the location for tonight's scheduled cheating rendezvous. It was not a new subdivision, but there was a new section being developed. There were several houses still under construction -- some just being framed and some almost completed, but being finished inside and landscaped -- just a half block from the Bland house.

I parked just inside the new section -- behind a construction dumpster -- at about quarter to seven, leaving a clear view up the street to the house scheduled for tonight's rendezvous. I hoped that Claire would go straight to the Bland house and not drive this deep into the subdivision to the point at which she might spot my presence.

I noticed several contractor vehicles in the area, despite its being late in the day. There must have been a big push for completion of the work by the developers.

Looking down the street, at the front of the Bland house, five houses down from me on the left, I could see the garage with its door open. The two-car garage only had one car in it. I assumed that this was Harvey's car and that Joy had already left with the kids for the evening.

I drew a deep breath as I saw Claire's Toyota Camry pull into the street and park in the Bland's driveway. She sat there for maybe a whole minute with her head down before exiting the car and walking up toward the front porch.

Halfway up the walk, I hit the speed dial on my cell phone. I saw her pause as I heard the sound of the call going through in my ear. She reached in her purse and pulled her cell phone out. Her face registered surprise as she saw the caller ID, showing that I was the one calling her. Pressing a finger to the face of the phone and holding it to her ear I saw her answer my call.

"Hello? Wade?" she answered tentatively.

"Hi, Honey. How's it going with the Majestic party? Are the ladies drooling over the catalogue listings and the sample items?" I asked.

"Oh ... unh ... we are just now getting to the refreshments, Honey. We haven't started the presentation yet," she lied. "Are you going to be very late tonight?"

I bit off my bitter response and took a quick cleansing breath. "Yeah; it looks like it might be around ten or eleven. What about you?"

"It will probably be around eleven for me, like most of the times when we throw these parties. You know the ladies like to talk for a bit after the sales presentations are complete and while the orders are all being logged," she said.

"I just hope that the regional sales lady does not schedule this many parties this close together again. I will probably need that time I promised you this weekend just to catch up on my rest as well as catching up on our 'us' time." She had told me all of her lies just as smoothly and as naturally as if nothing sordid could ever be going on.

I was quiet for long enough for her to get concerned enough to say something else. "Honey, is everything all right? You are coming across as if something were bothering you."

I answered, "Sweetie, I'm just distracted by all the things that are keeping us apart right now. Just in case I haven't said it to you enough times lately, I want you to know that, whatever happens, I love you very much."

She paused for a second and then said, "I ... I love you, too, Honey; very much." She paused again and said, "Wade, I ...," then she paused again.

I waited. Then I said, "Yes?"

"Just ... I love you and I always will. I gotta go. Jill wants me to help out back." With that, she broke the connection. I watched from down the street as she looked at her phone for a second or two before dropping it back in her purse.

She visibly sighed and turned back toward the house of Asshole Harvey Bland and climbed the two steps leading to the front porch. She paused again before reaching for the door handle. I remember Good Ole Harvey telling her to walk right on in. It looked now like he had not left the door open as he had said he would. Claire tried the handle for a few seconds and then pressed the doorbell when the door would not open for her.

By this time, I was ready to hop out of my 4Runner and dash over there and grab her by her hair to drag her away and demand of her just what the hell she was thinking in all of this. I wanted her to explain it all to me and tell me why she was lying, cheating, and tearing my heart out.
I wanted to pull her hair, slap her face, and tell her that she was acting like a slut. Then I caught myself as my imagination began to run away from me. I knew that I could never really lift a hand to her. I don't hit women, particularly women I happen to love.

As I continued to watch, Claire remained at the door, but no one came to answer the bell. She pushed the button at least three more times and still received no answer. She looked around and tried the door handle again. It did not open for her. She reached in her purse for her cell phone

I watched her scroll through her screen listing until she found a number and touched it. Putting the phone to her ear, I watched her wait as the call went through. She waited for almost a minute, and then she clicked to disconnect and pressed the phone screen lightly again, listening as her redial went through. Once again it was almost a full minute before she closed out her call attempt.

She dropped her phone back into her purse and stepped off the porch. She looked up at the second-floor windows, and then scanned the curtained windows of the first floor for any sign of activity in the house in which she was supposed to be meeting Harvey Bland for some illicit sex.

Finally, seeing no activity from the house and getting no response to her knocks, rings, and calls, she sighed and walked quickly back to her car and climbed in. She started the car, looked at the house for a few seconds more, and then drove away, probably much faster than the residential area would consider safe.

I just sat there, trembling with a combination of feelings of rage, relief, nervousness, and disbelief. My wife had actually tried to keep a rendezvous with a married man -- NOT her husband -- for the purpose of having sex outside of the bonds of her own marriage vows. And at HIS house no less, while his own wife and kids were conveniently away from the house. And it was still light enough for the neighbors to have seen the strange car and to be able to identify the adulteress who was attempting to gain entrance. I just shook my head.

I was still sitting there fuming and thinking about all of this about twenty minutes later when I noticed a couple of very big guys, one with what looked like an oversized laundry bag, walking my way from the direction of the Bland's back yard and then along the sidewalk. I watched as they moved with a sense of urgency toward one of the vans painted in the livery of a local landscaper. One moved to the driver's door and the other to the passenger side. The passenger came around and opened the sliding door on his side and threw the bag inside before reclosing the door and climbing into the passenger seat.

Within a few seconds, the driver started the van and gunned it once, sending out a bit of visible exhaust from the rear. He spun on the gravel as he accelerated away and the van moved quickly out of the subdivision by the same route taken by my wife earlier.

I finally started my 4Runner and drove back to my office so that I could establish my story of working late. I went inside, but I simply sat at my desk and read some of my ongoing Baldacci story on my computer, via its eBook reader application. I kept this up for about three hours, but found it frustrating, as I had to keep rereading paragraphs two and three times in order to keep up with the story. My mind was on other things and I found it hard to concentrate on my reading; no matter how good the story was.

Finally, I closed up and went out to my 4Runner. I stopped for gas on the way home and pulled into the driveway at about ten-thirty. Claire was not home yet. I wondered where she was, but figured that she was doing something similar to what I had done -- wasting some time -- so that she could arrive home late to match her earlier story. The only satisfaction that I got from that was the knowledge that she evidently did not get a chance to fuck Harvey Bland tonight.

I had a second of panic, thinking that she might actually have gone back to see if Harvey had been there later, but I wasn't going to go tearing out into the night to go back there myself. I really did not want to see any more evidence of her betrayal.

I was asleep when Claire finally got home. I woke for a few minutes, listening to her in the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. I took it as a good sign that she did not feel the need to take a shower following her evening out. But I was exhausted from the emotional strain I had put myself through over the past few days, especially today. I was out cold before she even came to bed.

I threw the newspaper on the kitchen table as I came in from my run Wednesday morning. I had run for about twenty minutes more than usual so that I could burn off some of the hurt and anger that I was still feeling over Claire's escapades of the previous evening. I did not even look at any of the headlines like I usually do. I just went for the coffee pot.

Claire was up and drinking coffee when I came in from the run, but she did not offer her usual good morning greetings or try for a hug. She looked like she was miles away in her thoughts. When I tossed the paper in front of her, she just glanced at it. I turned to finish pouring the coffee when I heard her gasp.

I turned back around and saw her looking with fear and surprise at the below-the-fold story and headline on the front page of the local paper. Her hand was to her mouth. She made some kind of strangled sound and pushed the newspaper away. Standing quickly, she poured the rest of her coffee in the sink and left her cup on the counter as she scurried quickly out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs without a word to me.

Curious, I looked at the newspaper and saw a headline indicating 'Home Invaders Terrorize Local Family.' The picture accompanying the story showed the front of a familiar house with a Police Officer talking in the foreground to reporters and a gurney in the background coming off the porch with two Fire Department EMTs moving it.

The article indicated that a house in the Sheffield subdivision belonging to the family of a Mr. Harvey Bland had been broken into while the homeowner was there. Fortunately, his wife and children were out of the house for the afternoon and evening.

Police would not give many details about the case, but they did say that it looked like the homeowner, Harvey Bland, had been surprised by two masked men entering the house in the broad daylight of the late afternoon through the patio door -- which sources say was forced. Bland had allegedly been assaulted and duct-taped to a kitchen chair with his eyes taped over as well, while the men allegedly went about moving through the house looking for valuables. No indications were given from authorities as to just what had been taken beyond a laptop computer. A source, who spoke on grounds of anonymity, revealed that the wife had returned late in the evening to find her husband secured to the chair in the kitchen and had called 911.

Bland had also been assaulted further in a strange manner. First responders evidently had difficulty in treating Mr. Bland, as his injuries were initially difficult to treat directly. The alleged attackers had driven an eight-inch landscape timber spike through Bland's left foot and into the wooden floor of his kitchen.

To keep him from bleeding out, they had sprayed all over and around the foot and the spike with an aerosol-delivered home insulation foam material used in construction for sealing odd-shaped openings -- the brand name on the spray can left behind in the trash, and identified to reporters by the unnamed source, was 'Great Stuff.' Reports from Sentara Hospital, where Bland was taken were sketchy, but it appeared that there are no other injuries, except for minor scrapes and a bruise to the left side of Bland's face, where he had allegedly been struck by the intruders upon their first arrival in the home. Early prognosis was for Bland's full recovery with no really harmful after effects.

There was more, including national and statewide statistics about home break-ins and home invasions. The Chief of Police made the usual plea for any witnesses to call the toll-free crime line. Blah, blah, blah ...

I put the paper down and smiled. It would seem that Mr. Harvey Bland had really -- I know, I know; it's lame and really corny -- put his foot in it when he decided to mess with the wife of a friend of Sonny Giancomo.

By the time I had finished my shower, Claire was dressed and ready to go. Since her Mom had the kids at her place this week, there was no typical scurry to get them ready for school. Still wearing just my towel, I got a perfunctory kiss, and an 'I love you; see you sometime late tonight' from her as she hurried out. She did not say anything about the report of the crime at the Blands, but I could see that she was upset. I just wished I could read her mind to see if she was upset at a friend being assaulted, or upset that the event had ruined her plans for some hot, monkey sex with another man.

I did not care at the moment. I was just basking in the relief that Sonny was taking care of things for me. I was also feeling a bit smug that Asshole Harvey Bland had gotten a small taste of exactly what he really deserved. I sorta wished that it could have been something more; something that Harv would carry around with him for the rest of his life; like maybe -- no dick. Nah! I'm not that vindictive, but the thought DID cross my mind once as I got ready for work.

Grace, my AA, was probably about to call a shrink for me as she watched me operate in my fog for a second day in a row. When she asked me at lunch time about my strange apparent fugue state, I tried to snap to attention mentally and smile at her, assuring her that I just had a lot on my mind. She wasn't buying the simple answer, but she did not press it.

I left the office for the rest of the day at around two. I went home, but felt a need to park around the block from the house. I cut across back yards and entered my own house surreptitiously from the rear. There was no sign of Claire -- not that I had expected any -- but I still listened for any sign of a presence in my house.

I checked the phone recorders in the drawer of the computer desk and saw that one of the digital counters had moved since I had last checked. Plugging it in, I got one recorded call from the cell phone recorder. When I had transferred the conversation to the computer, and plugged in the ear buds to listen, I noted that the call had been made during Claire's lunch break.

[Male voice] "Hello; Harmon Motors, where your job is your credit for one of our new or quality pre-owned cars."

[Claire] "Tim Harmon, please."

[Male voice] "May I ask who is calling?"

[Claire, with cold precision] "No. Just get him." Wow, I thought. She was really intense with that poor guy.

[Different male voice] "This is Tim."

[Claire] "This is Claire Sloan. Did you see the paper today? Have you heard anything about how Harvey is doing? Have ..."

[Tim Harmon] "Whoa, Claire Bear." God, I hated that cutesy name that all her old friends called her. "Yeah, I guess the whole town has heard; seeing as how it was on the radio all morning and in the paper. Gay went down to the hospital and linked up with Joy this morning. Joy was a wreck, understandably -- scared to go back to her own house. I guess, with Harvey not there, and with the break-in and all, she feels vulnerable."

[Claire] "Tim, I can assure you that any woman would feel that way after such a traumatic thing as that in her own house. I know I would. What I called about is to beg off tonight in light of what happened with Harv and Joy."

[Tim] "Oh, no; just because of one random act of violence that happened to hit in our circle of friends, I am not passing up my night with you. So, don't even think of trying to get out of it."

[Claire] "Tim; be reasonable. This kind of thing puts what we are doing under greater threat of being discovered. I have told Gay and now I'm telling you; I will NOT endanger my marriage to Wade in all of this."

[Tim] "Look. I have to go. I have a business to run and appointments to keep. You just be there at seven tonight according to plan, like Gay told you on the phone Sunday, and we will all work together to keep Wade out of it ... heh, heh ... for now. Now, get hold of yourself and calm down. I gotta go." Click!

[Claire] "Son of a bitch ..." This last was said to no one, as the call was already cut off by Tim's having hung up on his end.

I put all the stuff away in the desk and put the computer to sleep. I would have liked to sit and contemplate a bit, but I knew that I had to get out of the house in case Claire came by here for some reason. I also did not want my neighbors who got off work earlier than either of us to spot me here and say something to Claire -- after all; I was supposed to be busy at work until late tonight.

Deer Hollow subdivision, where Tim and Gay Harmon resided, was an established residential area and there was no good place for me to watch the Harmon house from within my 4Runner. Parking it on their street would be too obvious. So, I parked at the club house for the subdivision's community center and walked the three blocks to their street. I had arrived at six o'clock so that I could see what might be transpiring before and during Claire's expected arrival. I also had to find a place from which to watch without being detected.

There was a small retention pond behind the Harmon house. On the far side of the pond from their house, there was a very small building that looked like it might be a pump house for the city and county sewer system. Landscaping around the small building provided me enough shrubbery and bushes to be screened from view from the street and neighboring houses; while I was able to look obliquely at the back of the Harmon house from the driveway side.

I had been watching the back and side of the house for about ten minutes when I saw the patio door open. Two large men came out and closed the patio door behind them. They looked all around before moving off the back deck. Then, they strolled casually toward the retention pond and skirted the shore around the far side and through the yard of a house off to my left.

One of the men carried a cardboard box about two feet by two feet by two feet and one carried a bag that looked similar to the one carried by the landscapers I had seen the day before at the Bland house. In fact, these men looked exactly like the two landscapers I had seen the day before. They were not dressed in landscaping coveralls this time. Today, they wore khaki work clothes, maybe Carhartts.

I listened for about another ten minutes to the silence in the air, except for normal neighborhood noises and the sounds of passing minivans. There were no sirens in the distance. So much for Neighborhood Watch; these guys just waltzed out of a house in the subdivision in the middle of the day while the neighborhood simply ... watched!

Detecting movement at the side of the Harmon house, I looked to see Claire's Camry pull up in the driveway. After a minute or so, she got out and I lost sight of her as she walked around the front of the house.

The tension I had experienced earlier, followed by the smug satisfaction that Sonny's guys had already finished whatever they had been up to in the Harmon house, was now replaced by anger. I was seething at my wife's deception and outright lies. I had planned to call her with another preemptive call, like the one at the Bland house. But, this time, I just watched to see what would happen next.

There were no signs of activity and still no untoward sounds from the neighborhood. After about five minutes, I saw Claire reappear from the front of the house and walk around to the side and back. She looked all around, giving the indication that she was trying to determine if she were being watched by neighbors and then moved up onto the Harmon's patio deck. Here she paused and just looked at the patio door ten feet away.

That's when I hit the speed dial on my phone. Claire had been just about to step toward the back patio door when I saw her jump. Quickly reaching for her cell phone, she turned and began to walk back toward her car.

"Hello? Wade? What's the matter, Honey?" she asked. I could detect the fear in her voice.

"Hey, Sweetie, I was just calling to say just that very word ...'Hey' ... there's nothing the matter on my end. Is there something the matter there? By the way, where is the Majestic Party tonight?" I asked, after my dig at her conscience.

She paused and I could hear her breathing heavily, obviously still startled by my call. "Oh, it's at the ... umm ...Claiborne's. I'm almost there. I'm running behind and had to stop for gas."

"Okay, Sweetie. Well, I hope that it goes well tonight. You still plan on being late? If you don't pig out too much on the finger food, I could order pizza for a late snack and we could share that and some wine. Then, maybe we could ... uh ... snuggle, you know?"

Claire paused before answering. "I think we need to take a rain check on that, Baby. It sounds nice and romantic, but I am already tired and it's only going to be worse when I get in later after this party. But hold those types of thoughts for Saturday. THEN, I plan to rock your world for about a day-and-a-half. How does that sound?" She had gone from sounding frightened to sounding assured and sexy in the period of a few seconds.

I answered, "Oooh ... I like the sound of that. Well, I'll let you go. I wouldn't want to distract you and have you ending up in the wrong neighborhood ..." I saw her jump at that from all the way across the pond. "I mean with you being late already and all. Love you, Sweetie; see ya later." I cut the call before she could even answer.

I saw Claire look at the phone in her hand. Then she looked like she might be contemplating trying the Harmon's back door again. She then just sighed and turned back toward her car, all the while scanning the windows of the house trying to detect any sign of anyone's being at home; evidently with no success.

Unlocking the car with the remote key fob, she walked to the driver's door and got into her car and backed out. Turning away, she drove off, turning onto the street where my hideout was, and she passed my location without even looking at the structure behind which I was hidden.

The rest of Wednesday evening went much like Tuesday evening. I wasted some time before heading home and, evidently, so did Claire.

I heard her arrive in the house at about eleven and I could only wonder where she had gone to hang out in order to keep her own cover story alive. I smiled to myself and turned away from the bedroom door and feigned sleep when she came in to undress for the night. I was asleep before she finished in the bathroom and came to bed.

After my early run on Thursday morning, I brought in the newspaper and saw the headline -- this time, above the fold on the front page -- 'Second Home Invasion in Two Days.' I scanned the article briefly to assure myself that it did, in fact, reference an attack on the Harmon home, and then I went inside the house without looking for any more details. I placed the newspaper on the kitchen table in Claire's place. I had an idea of what the rest of the story would say about details; I was just content to see the Harmons get theirs in some way.

I had some coffee and held the cordless house phone in my hand as I sipped my coffee and watched for indications of Claire's descent from upstairs. When I heard her moving toward the head of the stairs, I hit a speed dial button on the phone, connecting me to the ADT Security number. As Claire turned into the kitchen, she heard me voicing my concern to our home security company's help line.
"Yeah! Are you guys sure that we are okay and that all the ADT monitors are in place and functional?" I was asking the help desk technician on the other end. As far as he was concerned, this was a call from a worried homeowner.

"Mr. Sloan, we have been assuring customers from your area all morning long that our systems are all up and running and our sensors are all testing out perfectly. I can assure you as well that ADT is always paying close attention to your home security needs," the young man told me. He actually sounded American, with no sign of the sing-song inflections that someone in a call center in Mumbai might generate when speaking.

"Well, folks are really worried around here. I mean what with two home invasions in two days ..." I heard Claire gasp when I said that and she moved quickly to the table. She saw the headline and I saw her eyes get as big as saucers. I went on with my conversation; but I kept my eyes on my wife. "I'm just calling to make sure that you guys are aware. Okay?" The guy assured me that the company was aware and alert. We finished up the call and, all the while, I was watching Claire as she scanned the article in the paper before her about the attack on the Harmon house.

Before I could say anything after replacing the phone in its wall cradle, Claire looked quickly over at me and stared hard into my eyes. She did not say anything, but it looked like she was trying to discern anything unusual in my expression. Finally, she said, "Wade. Did you ..." here she paused, "Did you ..."

Now, I said, "Did I ... what, Sweetie?" But, try as I might, I could not hide my hard expression and perhaps the slight touch of satisfaction that I was feeling. I mean I was inwardly pleased, knowing that Tim and Gay Harmon had been dealt with appropriately concerning their involvement in my wife's attempts at cheating on me. I guess some of satisfaction was bound to show up in my eyes if not in the rest of my face, or in my voice.

Claire paused again and it looked as if she might be afraid of me for a second. "Did you ... get some assurance from the security folks?" she finally asked.

I smiled my best loving and assuring smile as I stepped toward her and reached for a hug. I noted that she flinched at first, but stepped toward me after that and returned my hug as she pressed her face into my chest. I could feel the tension in her body, though. I kissed the top of her head and pulled back. Then I remembered.

"Oh, don't forget today's the day for Mindy's Show-And-Tell with 'Yours Truly' as her guest." Today, I was to join some other parents in giving a short presentation to Mindy's class about what my job was. I guess her teacher, Carol Newman, wanted the kids to start thinking early in life about what they wanted to be 'when they grow up.' I swear; that theme never goes out of style in public schools. I remembered it from when I had attended long years ago.

Anyway, Claire and I were supposed to be in place at ten-thirty at the school so that Mindy could 'show me off' while I made my pitch about what I do to contribute to the work force. About four other working moms and dads were also supposed to make a pitch as well. Claire indicated that she remembered, and moved to the coffee pot.

I went upstairs to prepare for the day, and Claire and I passed each other a couple of times between the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen before we kissed goodbye and promised to meet up at the school. Claire called her mother to make sure that the kids were okay and that Nan would get them to kindergarten and school on time. I was out the door while she was on the phone.

Grace saw that I was much happier than on the previous two days when I walked into the office. "Hey, did you get laid last night or something? You look like you are in a much better mood today."

I just grinned in response and walked from the coffee pot back toward my office. I actually got no meaningful work done this morning, as I turned my attention to the online edition of the local newspaper and today's main story.

This time, the picture in the article was of the DA and the Police Chief holding a press conference. The accompanying story told of a home invasion and robbery at the Harmon residence with a similar MO to that of the Bland residence on the previous day.

The only difference was that, this time, the wife was home. The article went on to say that the Harmons had no children. It seems that Tim Harmon had had his foot penetrated by a landscape timber spike similar to the one used on Harvey Bland. The foam used in the first instance was used in this one as well.

Gay Harmon had been found in her bed with her arms stretched above her and tied with ropes to the headboard. Both of her feet had been penetrated by long, but very thin, hardwood flooring staples, attaching her feet to the wooded footboard of her cherry wood bed by penetrating just behind the middle toe knuckles. The 'Great Stuff' foam had sealed her wounds like those of her husband, stopping the bleeding from getting out of hand.

Both of them had been blindfolded and gagged. It appeared that only a desktop computer had been stolen from the house. The Police spokesman at the scene said this was strange because there were many valuable items that the thieves had passed on, perhaps in haste to depart. An anonymous 911 call had been placed from what appeared to officials as a number from a throw-away cell phone and there were no other clues as to the call's origin. Evidently, the call came in at around eight o'clock, and the attack was estimated to have happened at around five-thirty on Wednesday afternoon.

Both of the victims had been taken to Sentara Hospital and were under treatment. Doctors indicated no long-term problems associated with their injuries. There were no disclosures of clues or suspects at the time of the article and the Chief had made the plea again for anyone with any information on these horrible crimes to call the toll-free crime line.

I closed out the browser and read some of my emails. I answered a couple of them and soon it was time to leave for the school and my 'rendezvous with destiny' with my daughter and her second-grade class. I checked my tie and my hair in the mirror in the office bathroom before telling Grace where I was going. She grinned and wished me well.

Chapter 4

I had timed my arrival so that I could stroll by the school office before having to go to Carol Newman's classroom to meet my wife and daughter. I wanted to see if I could get a quick look at the Principal's -- Dwight Newman's -- face this morning after the news of the incidents involving his fucking asshole buddies -- and Tim's wife, Gay.

I was outwardly smug and upbeat, but I was still pissed that the audacity of those three fuckwads. The very idea of trying to make me a fucking cuckold; of trying to humiliate me in my adopted hometown, the place where I was raising my children; of disrespecting me; and using my own wife to disrespect me.

As I passed by the office, I stopped to listen to the unusually high level of noise and activity from inside. The school secretaries were trying to deal with several parents at the service counter. I heard one of the ladies on the phone talking about Dwight.

"No, I'm sorry, but Mr. Newman was called away suddenly early this morning and is not in his office today." Pause. "I believe it was an out-of-town family emergency, but he did not tell me any details." Pause. "Yes, I expect him to be back in the office on Monday." Pause and the sound of pages turning. "It looks like he has a half hour on Tuesday afternoon at two." Pause. "Okay, Mrs. Lang, I'll pencil you in. Thank you."

Well; it looked like Dwight Newman had suddenly developed a reason to leave town for a couple of days. It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. I grinned to myself and moved on down the hallway -- past the hand-drawn pictures by the first and second graders of graveyards and flags and Soldiers and Marines (actually stick figures with what might be helmets and rifles) in anticipation of Memorial Day.

Even though I was a bit early, I was still the last parent to arrive. I saw Claire sitting in the back on the far side of the classroom just as she saw me. Her face flickered with a short smile at me and then she looked down at her hands in her lap. She did not look up again, so I looked for Mindy.

My daughter smiled at me with the intensity of the sun, she was so glad to see her daddy arrive. She lifted a hand from her desk to give me a shallow wave so that her friends could not see her excitement. After all, even in second grade, 'cool' was still required. There was a low murmur in the class of about twenty-five students.

Mindy was seated in the column of desks nearest to the window all the way across the room from where I was forced to stand. I looked at the front of the class and my gaze was met directly by an unsmiling look from Carol Newman. Carol did not glare, nor smile. It was a look more of hesitant accusation, coupled with a touch of fear. Standing behind Carol was a cute twenty-something girl, who must have been a teaching assistant or something like that. I did not recognize her from my previous visits to the school.

Carol turned to the class and got everyone to quiet down and began to introduce the Show-And-Tell event. This was a continuation of the events that occurred once a month. She had been taking it alphabetically. When they got to the Esses the first time, I was not able to attend. So, I had been rescheduled for today with the Double-Yous and added to the end of the list.

Carol said, "All right, class. Today, we will hear from several of the working parents about just what type of work they do and how they contribute to our community. While the parent is presenting, I want his or her son or daughter to stand up front as well. I just know that you are all proud of your moms and dads and want to show that pride by standing with them."

The students and their teacher, along with about a dozen adults either sitting or standing along the walls, heard the presentations from the other four parents before it was my turn. I really had my work cut out for me trying to show just how important selling investments and insurance was compared to what the store manager, the welder, the florist, and the cop did. This ought to be fun.

"Suppose you paid ten dollars for a large pizza. On the way home, a dog knocked you down and ate your pizza. How much money did you lose?" Several of the kids looked at me. No one wanted to answer out loud in front of the others; that was just too embarrassing. I pointed at one boy who did not look as scared as the rest. "How about you? How much would you lose if that happened?"

The boy blushed and looked around before answering tentatively, "Ten dollars." When I smiled at him and told he was correct, he got a little more assured and added, "And I would still be hungry because my pizza was gone." This got him some snickers from the other kids and some of the adults.

"That's correct. Now; what if you knew that you had to pass that dog's house every time you planned to bring home a pizza; and, what if, every month, you paid me ten cents -- one dime -- to make sure that you did not lose the ten dollars or the pizza whenever you got one. In other words, for the ten cents that you pay me each month, you could call me up to tell me that your pizza had been eaten by a dog who attacked you; I would show up about a half hour later with a replacement pizza at no cost to you."

I paused to let that sink in, and then asked, "Was it worth it to you to pay me a dime each month so that you would not have to pay another ten dollars for the pizza that you had already bought, anytime you got one, and had to walk past the house where that dog lives?"

When they began to see the wisdom of that, I said, "The ten cents a month that you paid me for being comfortable that you would not lose your pizza money is like the insurance that your parents buy from me. They pay me a small amount to take all the risk and keep them from losing huge amounts, like the cost of a house or a car or the loss of a parent's salary when he or she is ill or dies. Okay?" I guess maybe twenty out of the twenty-five had a light go on for them. The other five were not really paying attention anyway.

The class had already had a lesson earlier in the year, according to Carol, on banking and interest. I just said that investments were sort of like a bank, but that the amount of 'interest' varied. I wasn't about to get into dividends and short-and-long-term capital gains with a bunch of second graders.

Mindy had stood beside me the whole time I had made my presentation. She beamed at me, looking around the room with a smile that said silently but visually, "This is my daddy and I am so proud of him." I glanced at Claire and saw her force a smile at me briefly when our eyes met, before she looked away at Mindy.

"Well," said Carol Newman, as I nodded to her that I was finished. "That was very informative." Turning her gaze to Mindy, Carol asked, "So, Mindy, do you think that you might want to follow in your daddy's footsteps and be a financial advisor?" She was smiling as she asked this.

Mindy glanced at Carol and then at me before surprising me a bit. "No, I don't think so," she said. Then she surprised us all somewhat by saying, "I think I would like to be more like Mommy." I raised my eyebrows and glanced from Mindy's adoring face to Claire's surprised but pleased face in the back of the room. Claire's lips turned up into a pleased smile.

As I looked back to Mindy's teacher, I saw that Carol was now smiling thinly at me with a 'she-got-you' look on her face. "And why do you want to be more like your mommy, Honey?" asked Mindy's teacher.

Mindy sort of looked apologetically at me, apparently hoping that I was not disappointed that she did not want to be more like me than Claire. Then she said, "Daddy is always telling me that I should try to be the biggest and best at everything I do. And I try real hard to do what Daddy says."

I smiled as any proud father would at realizing that his child has been listening to his philosophy of life and his encouragement of his children. Mindy took a breath and continued.

"That's why I want to be like Mommy, because she is the biggest and best at what she does." Listening to Mindy and glancing around, I could tell that I was not the only one losing track of what she meant. Then, like they say -- out of the mouths of babes -- came her reason.

"When Mommy and I were in the Principal's office one day last week after school when she picked me up, I had to wait for her while she went into Mr. Newman's private office for a couple of minutes. When they came out, I heard Mr. Newman say that Mommy was probably still the biggest and best, but he used words that are not on my second grade word list. I guess they will be on the list for me in third or fourth grade."

Mindy furrowed her brow as she tried to recall exactly what she had heard. Then she grabbed my right hand in her left hand and smiled at her mother, who was now definitely NOT smiling, in the back of the class. In fact, Claire had what I could only interpret as a look of mild panic on her face. Mindy then -- without realizing what she was doing; with all the innocence of a child -- lowered the boom.

"I heard Mr. Newman laughing as they came out of the office and he said Mommy was probably still the biggest SLUT and the best FUCK in town."

Following a couple of gasps from the adults, there was a moment of silence. Mindy said into the silence, "If my School Principal thinks Mommy is the biggest and best, then I want to be like her."

One or two of the boys in the class were giggling -- they knew what the words meant. One of the second-grade girls was blushing furiously and looking at her desk. The rest of the kids were confused. The other adults in the class were shocked and looking now at Claire.

I stood there with a stone face and no expression, as far as I realized. Later, one of the parents would tell me that I had just looked disgusted, but not surprised.

Claire was looking shocked and afraid as she gazed briefly with her mouth open at her daughter; then, for some strange reason, at Carol; and, finally, at me. Mindy was rapidly losing her smile and comfort as she began to realize that she may have said something that was not pleasing either to her mother, me, the other adults, or her class.

Claire looked directly at me and her face took on a look of absolute anguish. She locked eyes with me and I knew that I could not hide the disappointment, the hurt, and the anger. She could also see that I was not as surprised or shocked as a normal husband would be at this revelation. I could see the dawning of recognition on her face that showed that she realized that I probably knew something related to Mindy's revelation. She sobbed once as tears began to leak out of her eyes.

All of this had transpired in a period of about ten-to-fifteen seconds. I saw Claire's lips move in what might have been, "I'm sorry." She was evidently truly mortified and stood. Then, with tears running down her cheeks, she made a dash for the door, pushing a couple of the parents out of her way in her flight.

I just stood there, watching her leave, without saying anything. After Claire had cleared the doorway, I stooped down and tried to reassure Mindy, who now looked both upset and frightened. "Honey, don't worry. You may have misunderstood Mr. Newman that day. Mommy is not really upset with you; so don't you worry about that. We are both glad that you are proud of your mommy and want to be like her. You and I will talk later, along with Mommy, and she and I will try to help you understand what is happening. Now, you go on back to your desk. I have to go and talk to Mommy for a minute or two and then I have to go back to work. Mommy and I will try to get over to Grandma Nan's to talk to you later."

Mindy was not entirely reassured that everything would be all right. The adults were acting too strangely after what she had said. She was pretty bright for a seven-year-old, so she knew that there was more to all of this. But she hugged me and smiled weakly as she walked back to her desk and sat down.

When I stood up, I felt Carol's presence right next to me. In a whisper, she said, "Wade; we need to talk. I will call you after school. Okay?" Carol now had what looked like an expression on her face that reflected something between simple resignation and emotional fatigue.

I nodded and said she could call me on my cell that afternoon or evening and I handed her one of my business cards with my office and cell numbers on it. I avoided looking at the other adults in the room as I walked out of the class on my way to the front exit of John Bankhead Magruder Elementary School and then out to my 4Runner in the front lot.

I saw Claire's Camry pulling out quickly and driving off. I sighed to myself and decided not to rush into traffic and try to follow her. After all, I could track her movements; and we both had cell phones. I'd let her worry for a while before I called her, and I would keep alert in case she called me.

I skipped lunch and just stayed in my office over the lunch hour. I had a one-o'clock appointment for a guy who wanted to establish a Uniform Gift to Minor's Act investment account for his six-month-old daughter. If he and his wife kept feeding money into that account steadily over the years, they would have enough to get the little girl through college without any debt from college loans on the back end. That would be a wonderful way to start their daughter out in her adult life, well ahead of her peers, financially. The UGMA account would save him and his wife a little bit of money in Federal taxes as well over the years.
After the meeting, I broke down and tried to call Claire's cell phone. The five times I tried over an hour's time -- with all of them going directly to voice mail -- told me that she had turned her cell phone off for now. She obviously did not want to talk to anyone -- including me.

I tried to call her at work. A lady in the office said that Claire had not come back to the store after she had left for the school event. She said that Claire's father had called down about an hour ago to say that Claire had gotten in touch with him, saying she was not feeling well and would not be in for the rest of the day; and maybe for the following day either. Interesting, I thought.

I asked if she could transfer me to Claire's father's number. When Roger McNamee came on the line, I said, "Roger, this is Wade. Do you know where Claire is? I can't seem to reach her on her cell."

Her father hesitated for a moment before saying, "Hello, Wade. Claire called me and said she was leaving the school at around eleven. I thought she had been with you there, but she didn't say anything about that. She just sounded upset and said she was going to need some time off from work here at the store so that she could sort some things out in her mind and in her marriage. I didn't ask her for any details, but I can ask you. Do you know just what the hell has her so upset; are you two having trouble of some sort?"

I decided to tell a small lie. "We have our share of the typical difficulties that marriages experience once in a while, Roger. But there is nothing going on with us right now that can't be fixed, with a little time, and a lot of communication.

"All I know right now is that Mindy, in her childish innocence, said something in public today at school that was very embarrassing for Claire. But, instead of correcting Mindy and smoothing things over, Claire just bolted from the room and, I guess, from the school as well. I don't know where she went; and, evidently, she has her cell turned off. I just want to talk to her and see if we can sort out what our little Mindy said and try to set things right." I paused to let him respond.

Her father answered, "Wade, I don't know what to tell you. If she did not go home or come over here, then I have no idea what has become of her. But, please keep me and Nan informed and be sure to call us when you find her. Nan will be worried, especially with the kids here."

I assured Roger that I would find Claire and let him know when I did. He wished me luck, not knowing that I was not counting on luck alone. I had the GPS tracker for her car and I just needed to fire it up and locate her.

When I hung up, I went out to my 4Runner, turned on the ignition, and flipped the 'on' switch for the device. After a few seconds, the little location indicator beacon showed me where Claire's Camry was. At the moment, it was in motion, traveling along the main U.S. highway headed east out of town. She looked, from the scale indicator on the screen, to be about sixty miles out of town and still moving.

Just as I was about to pull out and try to follow her route, I got a beep on my cell phone. Looking at the screen, I saw that the call was from a local number, but the caller ID was blocked. Remembering Carol's promise to call this afternoon, I answered. "Hello."

"Wade," it was Carol Newman. "I had my teaching assistant fill in for me and take over for the last hour-and-a-half of school. I had to get out of there and call you. Can you meet me at Jimmy's?" Jimmy's was a popular bar at the west edge of town. I was irritated that I needed to talk to Carol and go west to do it, while my wife was traveling east and I needed to go after her as well. Before I could beg off talking to Carol, I noted that the GPS device had shown me that Claire's car was stationary now. I decided to risk it and told Carol that I would be at Jimmy's in about fifteen minutes. She said she'd be there.

It was a little early for the afternoon crowd at Jimmy's. Carol and I had a booth in back and the company in the place was limited just to two other patrons, both on stools at the bar itself, well away from us.

"So, what did you need to talk about? I mean other than your asshole husband evidently talking smack about my wife in front of our little girl; and right there in the school at that? Just what the hell is going on?" I was pissed now and I decided to lay out some of my cards.

"And just where does your husband, Dwight, the so-called great educator, get off calling my wife the biggest slut and the best fuck in town? What qualifies him to say something like that about my Claire? Do you know about that?" I must have looked as furious as I felt, because Carol leaned back with a touch of fear on her face as I said this and leaned in across the table a bit.

Carol sighed and took a sip of her white wine. "I guess we ... I guess that Dwight wasn't being very careful when he said that to Claire at school in a public place ... and within Mindy's range of hearing."

Now, I was surprised and had to lean back with wide eyes. "What did you mean when you started to say 'we' just now? Are you part of all this as well? What kind of people are you in this town that you would deliberately try to break up marriages? Does all this give some sort of kick to you sick fucks ... to rip out the hearts of an unsuspecting spouse? Or do you just thrive on the idea of making a guy a cuckold; particularly a move-in like me?

"That's it, isn't it? You fuckers have all been together since kindergarten and you get off on fucking over the guy from out of town by fucking his wife without his knowing." I was beyond furious now. I was experiencing what some call explosive rage and Carol just happened to be the unfortunate person to be within my bursting radius at the moment.

Carol had started shaking her head 'no' from side to side and I could see tears forming in her eyes. Finally, she put her glass down when I finished that part of my tirade and put a hand out gently on one of mine, and said, "Wade. It's not like that. Please! Let me tell you some of what's going on so that you can understand."

I started to give her a smartass answer about already knowing enough about what was going on; that I knew about Harvey Bland and about Tim and Gay Harmon. But doing that would reveal my complicity in -- or at least my deeper knowledge about -- the events surrounding the home invasions. I got my temper under control, enough to keep my mouth shut about that.

I said simply, "Okay. You talk to me. Just try to convince me that what is going on is not an attempt by you and Dwight to destroy my marriage. I'm starting to the idea that there might be others involved in this as well, and I want to get some answers. Are you going to tell me the whole truth about what is going on?"

Carol picked up her wine glass and drained it. She waved off the bartender when he raised his eyebrows in her direction. Then she began to tell me some things about Claire that my wife had evidently felt necessary to leave out of our long premarital series of talks about our sexual and relationship histories -- you know, the one where we were supposed to disclose all about our previous sexual encounters and be honest with each other so that there would be no misunderstandings or jealousies developing later in our marriage.

"Wade, how much do you know about the history of swinging in this country?" Carol now had my attention, only because I was floored by her seemingly out-of-the-blue off-the-subject question. She waited for me to get enough composure just to shrug. Then she continued.

"Well, swinging has been going on for quite a while. It really started big-time in this country after World War II within the military. Then it spread into the civilian communities in a big way with the advent of the birth control pill.

"There were several families in this area who got involved in it in the sixties. I only found that out when I was in college, and I have lived here all my life. Evidently, Claire's Grandpa and Grandma McNamee were part of the bunch at the center of those activities." Carol paused to see what my reaction would be to this revelation.

I puffed my cheeks and said, "Claire never mentioned anything about that. I know that her grandparents were killed in a car crash of some kind when Claire was in middle school, but that's all she has said about them."

"Yeah," Carol began again, "Well; that is true; they died when Claire was twelve. But their family's lifestyle had a direct impact on Claire personally. Are you sure you can handle hearing all of this?"

I set my mouth into a thin line and looked directly at her. I nodded and indicated with a wave of one hand for her to continue.

"The McNamee family and about ... oh ... I'd say five other couples were at the center of the swing scene activity around here, the way I hear it. There may have been a few more couples, but I'm not sure.

"Anyway, when Claire turned eighteen -- that would have been the summer before her senior year in high school -- her parents went off on a second honeymoon and left her with Nan's sister and her husband, Claire's Aunt Jeannie and Uncle Dave. I'm pretty sure that Roger knew about Nan's family and their swinging past, along with the swinging activities of Nan and Nan's sister, Jeannie. I'm also pretty sure that Jeannie and Nan had been part of the swinging scene in their late teens -- the swingers would include their kids in swing gatherings on weekends at gathering sites for the whole crowd; but the kids were only brought in on these events after it was confirmed that they had reached the age of eighteen -- to avoid legal hassles -- and that they were already sexually active.

"But, back to Nan and Roger; I'm pretty sure that Nan had given all that swinging stuff up when she and Roger married. At least I have not heard or seen any evidence to the contrary. But I heard that, a little while later, Nan had convinced Roger to try swinging at least once.

"I know I'm messing this up badly, but I need to tell this story my own way. So, bear with me." She sighed and continued as I just nodded.

"Well; when they left Claire with her aunt and uncle that time, it made things difficult. It seems that her Aunt Jeannie was to be the hostess for the next swing gathering for the regional swing crowd and it was happening right in the middle of Claire's first visit since turning eighteen.

"When her Aunt Jeannie asked Claire if she was a virgin, Claire lied and told her no, that she had already engaged in sex a couple of times. That was all Jeannie needed to hear. She told Claire that she would be hosting a swing gathering that weekend and that several families with their over-eighteen sons and daughters would be there as well.

"I don't know how Claire felt about that, or about finding these things out about her extended family -- specifically her aunt and uncle -- and realizing that her mother had not been entirely forthcoming about her own youth. I DO know that Claire was there at the event -- she confided this to me during our time together in high school and on the cheerleading squad over the next several weeks.

"She lost her virginity on that Friday afternoon at her first swing party. She told me that she had sex with at least four teenage guys and three adult men before that weekend was over. She also told me that it had been the most exciting thing she had ever experienced and she was going to try to visit with her aunt and uncle again whenever they had something like that scheduled.

"Well, it only lasted for another year, and she got to go to only two more events like that before her aunt and uncle had to move away because of a job change; and Claire was getting ready to graduate high school. Claire told me that she had waited a couple of weeks after her aunt and uncle had moved away before she revealed her experiences to her mother and asked about Nan's history with the swinging. Nan was only mildly upset at Claire's admission, but confessed that she herself had been part of that scene from age eighteen until she had married Roger.

"Roger, it seems, had gone with Nan to one swing event and, afterward, he had politely told Nan and her swinging relatives and friends that he and Nan appreciated the invitation to include him and Nan in their activities and circle of friends. But he and Nan would not be part of that lifestyle beyond that point; nor would any children they might have.

"When Nan told Claire all this, Claire said that she would still like to go to events in the area until she had to leave for college, since she now knew several of the other families involved, and even attended high school with several of the teen boys and girls of the swinging families. Nan spoke to her at length about the downside of all of that activity. She encouraged Claire to take the long view on what impact that type of lifestyle and sexual history might have on future mates and family. Claire finally conceded that it was probably best not to be part of that.

"I lost track of Claire for a brief when we went off to college. But I am pretty sure that she did not get involved with swinging while she was at Iowa State.

"The problem that came up for her, before she left for college, was that Dwight's family had been part of the swinging scene and he knew about Claire's now participating in it. The Marshall, Bland, and the Harmon families here in town had been part of the scene as well, so Gay Marshall, Harvey Bland, and Tim Harmon also knew about it; and Harvey, Dwight, and Tim had been three of the guys to have sex with Claire at her first event -- which was also theirs, as they had only recently turned eighteen as well. I don't know who it was who took her cherry, but she probably has told you about that."

I responded, "She only said that she lost her virginity at a party when she was eighteen and she had been involved in underage drinking at the time. She said that it was a guy named Chris and he was older."

Carol thought a minute and nodded. "Yeah, Chris Danforth was one of the college-age guys who regularly attended those parties when he was back in town. I don't know if the Danforth family is even around this area any more. Anyway ..." then she got on with the story.

"At the end of our senior year of high school, just before graduation, Dwight, Harvey, Gay, and Tim convinced Claire and me to go with them to the quarry on the edge of town one night during Memorial Day weekend." She looked at me as she paused here.

I nodded and said, "Yeah; I've seen indirect references to some kind of happening at a quarry on the Friday before Memorial Day that year. It was written about in several entries by folks that signed Claire's high school yearbook for her senior year."

"Yeah," Carol nodded and continued, "Gay and I were on the cheerleader squad with Claire, and the three of us agreed to go with Dwight, Tim, and Harv. We girls knew that it was going to be an evening of sex with those three football players. We just did not know all that those three guys had in mind." Here she paused and signaled the bartender to bring another glass of wine. She waited until it had been delivered and I took a sip of my CC and ginger. Then she picked up again.

"We got up there and it was a glorious evening. We put down some large blankets so that we could stay out of the dirt and keep the ticks away. Then," Carol actually blushed for a moment, "we paired off and had sex ... I mean right there in front of each other. I need for you to know that the three guys and Gay and Claire had all been part of the swing scene with their families, but I had not. So, this was all just so new to me; it was just so ... right out there on display. I was scared, but I was even more afraid of being ridiculed by my friends; so, I went along.

"Pretty soon, I got into it as well as they did. The guys had gotten some liquor, and we all had taken enough to drink by that time not to be too inhibited. And, after the first round of sex, all inhibitions were gone and we just sat around naked in the warm evening.

"It was about half an hour after that first round of sex when we heard the sound of approaching cars. Two more cars pulled into our area and I freaked out; Claire was a bit uncomfortable, but she just frowned and looked at the others. Gay seemed to take it all in stride.

"The guys just smirked, telling us to relax; they had anticipated all of this. Well, Claire and I had not anticipated the arrival of six of the seniors on the basketball team, four of whom were black.

"There we were, all sitting there naked and up walk six other guys. I nearly passed out from fright. Dwight told the guys who had arrived to get comfortable -- by that he meant get naked.

"They all stripped and sat down to join us in conversation and in drinking -- they had brought more liquor. After a while, one of the new arrivals asked when Dwight was going to come through on his promise. I did not know what he was talking about and Claire looked confused as well. The others seemed to know what was going on, though.

"By now, everyone was very drunk, except for Dwight and Gay. To my surprise, and to Claire's, Dwight announced that he had promised the basketball players that he was going to provide them the sexual services of a couple of cheerleaders. Gay indicated that she was game, but Claire and I, no matter how cool we wanted to appear to be, said that we had not planned on having an impromptu gangbang.

"Dwight gave us all another round of drinks as the conversation continued. I do not know if he put something in any of the drinks or if they were just stronger than before. All I know is that, before long, Claire and I were on our backs and were each pulling a train while the six senior basketball players -- and the other three guys -- all lined up to fuck us as well.

"It turns out that our friend and teammate, Gay, was not really part of the deal after all, and was drafted into being the event recorder for this little sex party. When I looked up after what seemed like a couple of hours, and after the last guy had finally fucked me until he couldn't come anymore, there was Gay with a video camera. She had recorded the entire event on Tim's new camera -- he was one of the first in this town to have one that was completely digital.

"Well, we all got wiped down with a handful of paper towels and we got dressed. I started to get scared at that point, worried that the story about that night was going to get back to my parents and -- worst of all -- to the rest of the students at the school. The reputations of the cheerleaders were already ones of wildness and sexual promiscuity -- with good reason, really -- but I did not want the word of this night's extreme happenings to get out.

"Claire was not as adamant as I, but she stood by me and insisted on keeping this all just among ourselves. Everyone agreed and Tim promised that he would destroy the video. He even got the camera from Gay and pulled out the video card to show us as he dropped it into the water at the bottom of the quarry.

"Digital cameras were so new on the market then that we did not know he had pulled out the battery pack, and not the memory card. We did not find that out until recently, when the three guys and Gay decided to try to schedule a reenactment of that big gangbang on the fifteenth anniversary weekend of the original. Only then did Tim and Gay reveal that they still had the video from that night."

I interrupted. "What the fuck is all this stuff about a reenactment?"

Carol took my outburst more calmly than I would have expected. "Just let me explain all this in my own way, Wade; please.

"You know about Gay and Tim. You may not know that they stayed in the swing scene when they married. Harvey stayed in and brought Joy into it when they married after college. I fell in love with and married Dwight during college and started going with him to swing parties right there at the university. All three of us couples have kept up with the swing scene off and on for the past ten years.
"I have not been part of the active recruiting effort, but Dwight has always been trying to do everything from dropping hints to offering blatant invitations to Claire -- ever since you guys moved back here -- for her to get back into it ..." here Carol looked down at the table, "and, recently, he began to ask her to come back in ..." sigh, "with or without you, Wade."

Chapter 5

Carol looked up at me from across the table and said, "Wade, I'm sorry for what Dwight has been trying to do. You need to know that I was firmly against his bringing Claire into our activities without your knowledge and your active participation. As far as I was concerned, Dwight was breaking the cardinal rule of swinging, and I have told him so repeatedly in all this.

"The only way that swinging can work without endangering or destroying relationships is for all the activities to be specifically for and include only couples -- full participation by both parties -- and to ensure completely open and honest communication and participation. And we try our best NOT to have one member of a couple participate in any swing activity when his or her spouse is not a part of the event; otherwise, jealousy and emotional attraction for others outside of the marriage can start and possibly tear the couples apart.

"Just so you know. I think that Dwight and I might just about be at the end of our rope; not only in all of this, but in our marriage. It's not about the swinging; I've been on board with that from the start. It's about Dwight's attitude and actions in other things. Not only has he been getting carried away with this thing with Claire..." she said. I could see tears forming in her eyes as she continued.

"I'm pretty sure that, for the last four or five years, Dwight has been secretly having sex whenever he goes to these statewide or national teacher conferences without me." She looked directly into my eyes as she said, "That is definitely against the rules, Wade. And I'm just about to call him on it, once I have taken steps to ensure that I don't get dumped on financially -- with your help as our financial advisor -- if and when we split. You won't tell him what I just told you, will you?"

I shook my head and said, "Carol; I've got enough problems of my own right now in dealing with Claire's and my marriage. I don't need to get into the middle of yours." I leaned in and said, "But, if you or Dwight or anyone else tries to get between Claire and me, I will be ruthless in what I say and do."

I was still pissed off at Carol and the part she was playing in all of this, but I could not help but feel a little bit sorry for her in her own situation as well, and I still needed to know some other information about all of this.

"Carol, do you know if Claire has been screwing around on me since we have lived here? I mean, this is a small town and the locals all seem to know what everybody is doing. And they seem to be very adept at screening off information from us move-ins. Has Claire been unfaithful to me, to your knowledge?" I wanted to know, but a part of me was actually afraid to hear what Carol might say.

Carol actually smiled at me and said, "Wade, as far as I know, Claire swore off the swinging and sex with everyone else when she said, 'I do,' to you. I hear just about everything that goes on in the swing scene around here and Claire has not figured into the conversation in any way that I am aware of since you and she married and moved back here.

"Neither do I know of any other occasions, nor have I even heard any rumors of any occasions, when Claire may have been involved in any sexual liaisons outside of her marriage to you. You know how gossip about stuff like that literally flies through the air in a small town. I honestly believe that she has been true to you, Wade."

I leaned in with anger on my face again and startled Carol with my next question, "Then why the hell did she lie to me about going to Harvey Bland's on Tuesday, Tim Harmon's on Wednesday, and your house to see Dwight tonight?" I had to take a bit of a risk here as I revealed my knowledge of Claire's activities on the nights in question to Carol, as I continued.

"And I even heard through the gossip grapevine -- and now from you this afternoon -- about some plan for her supposedly to meet up with all three of those guys at the quarry tomorrow night to reenact your big gangbang of fifteen years ago. Can you tell me more about all of that and why the hell she would do that, after all these years, if she were really being true to me?" I think I may have been on the verge of tears myself at this point. I felt my throat constrict a bit and it was getting hard to breathe.

Carol looked at me with a touch of fear now. "Wade, if you found out all of that ... did you ... were you involved with what happened to Harvey, Gay, and Tim?" She had edged slightly toward the end of the booth, evidently to facilitate a quick escape.

I forced myself to look relaxed and harmless. I even smiled in a way that I thought might be reassuring to Carol. "I deal with a lot of clients who like to talk," I lied. "No. I was angry enough to do those assholes some damage, but I was not involved." I crossed my fingers beneath the table as I said that.

"But, I can't say that I'm disappointed that some burglars put a small amount of hurt on those folks either, given what they were planning for my wife -- and, through her, for me. Back to your story; why do you think that Claire would not want to tell me about her swinging past?"

Carol was trying to smile now without success. She still had tears forming in her eyes. "Wade, since you did not know about all of this other aspect of Claire's life during her late teen years, I believe that she might have been ashamed and afraid to tell you for fear that you might suspect her of truly being a slut at heart.

"Wade, believe me. I see how she is when she is around you and I see her with Mindy and Paul. She really is a good wife and a dedicated mother. Dwight may have set something up for this week without telling me. Other than that, I don't know what possibly could have motivated her to go to Harvey's house or Tim and Gay's house, or even for her to plan to come over to our house tonight, beyond the obvious indication that she was going to go along with having sex with those three cretins.

"But I can't, for the life of me, see Claire actually carrying through with that, given how she obviously feels about you. You need to talk to her, Wade. Find out from her directly and try to salvage your marriage out of all this."

I snarled, "How can I salvage my marriage when my wife is not being completely honest with me? Hell, she didn't tell me about all of that stuff in her past, her late teen years. If she had, and if she had promised me that it was all just that -- the past -- I would still have married her and loved her completely."

I actually could feel the tears of anger and hurt on my face as I continued. "And now, not only hasn't she been completely honest about her past; she hasn't been honest with me about the activities THIS week. Hell, she told me outright lies to cover her visits to all three of your houses this week and to cover her visit to the quarry for the so-called reenactment this coming Friday. How do I trust her after that?"

Carol put a hand on my cheek and said softly, with tears of her own, "Wade, you are a good man, and Claire knows it. A lot of us in this town know it. I have the feeling that her lies to you about the visits to see Harvey, Tim, and Dwight, and about Friday, were all tied to her attempts to keep what she felt was her 'sordid past' from getting back to you.

"I can't believe that Claire would actually carry through and have sex with any of those three guys. You need to find her and ask her. And, from there, work on getting back into total and absolute honesty with each other."

I started to say something, when Carol held up her hand and said, "I know you have trouble believing that she will be honest after all of this stuff this week. But listen to me. As a woman, I can tell you that we do not always lie to our men or withhold things merely to deceive them. We often bend the truth to avoid hurting someone we truly love. Give Claire the benefit of the doubt and try to believe that she was not telling the whole truth in an effort to keep from hurting you or causing you to worry about her faithfulness."

I still was not buying one-hundred percent of what Carol was selling. But I kept quiet and nodded as we finished our drinks. After we had both used drink napkins to wipe our eyes, we stood and smiled a mutual smile of friends, and then we hugged briefly. I wished Carol well, and thanked her for filling in some of the blanks. I promised her that I would keep her secrets in confidence and that I would be glad to help her if she needed it when she finally had her reckoning with Dwight.

I also advised Carol to make an appointment with me for just her if she decided that she and Dwight were not going to work out; she needed to get some of her financial instruments screened off from Dwight if that were to occur. I told that, if she were to get a lawyer and begin formal proceedings against Dwight in the future, she should be sure to tell the lawyer about me and my role in her long-term finances. Then, we departed Jimmy's place separately.

When I got home, there was an unfamiliar car parked across the street from my house. As I exited my 4Runner, the driver of the car got out. I recognized him as the giant who had come to my house the other morning and had rigged the phone taps. He greeted me briefly and handed me a package, saying only that it contained a DVD-R with the contents of the Harmon's computer that had 'mysteriously' vanished from their home during an alleged home invasion.

When he drove off, I took the package inside and set it aside until I could get something to eat. I had skipped lunch and, with only the bar crackers I had eaten during my talk with Carol, I was ravenous. I scarfed down a sandwich and a Little Debbie cream-filled oatmeal cookie dessert snack. Taking the package with me, I entered the den and woke up the computer.

I removed the DVD-R that was in the envelope and inserted it into the tray of the computer. When it had spun up, I opened the file explorer and saw that it contained many Harmon family word processing documents -- which I ignored -- along with quite a few AVI-format video files. I opened my media player and established a media listing of all the video files on the DVD-R and started the review process. When a file opened and it looked like it was just normal downloaded internet porn, I would click the 'Next' button and move to the next video.

Eventually, I got to some that were obviously amateur video. These appeared to be videos of actual swing events from recent years. As I clicked through them, I was surprised to see some familiar faces that I would never have suspected being part of this type of event. Some were clients of mine. I got my surprise under control and clicked on through until I hit pay dirt.

I recognized Claire right away, but it was Claire more than fifteen years ago. Man! She was so hot, even back then at eighteen! I smiled to myself as I realized that I still thought she was hot, even after giving birth twice -- she had gotten herself back into terrific shape in only a few months after each of the two deliveries.

In the video, Claire was being double-teamed by a younger version of Dwight and another guy who I did not recognize. I guessed that this video had been taken at one of the swing events that Claire's aunt and uncle had held, ones that included the teens who were now of participating age. I watched it all the way through and I was surprised to discover that my cock had gotten hard as a rock as I had watched Claire in action back then.

There was only one video left in the playlist. I clicked it and saw a bunch of naked older teens in a low-light environment and they were outdoors. This must have been the evening at the quarry fifteen years ago. Two girls were on their backs and there were a bunch of guys around them.

As the video began, there were two black guys fucking the two reclining girls like there was no tomorrow in the normal missionary position. They did not last long and finished almost at the same time. As they pulled away, I could recognize one girl as a younger version of Carol, along with that oh-so-hot younger version of my beloved Claire.

The video went on for about an hour-and-a half and I watched it all the way through. On two occasions, both Carol and Claire were raised up on all fours and were double-teamed; but, for the most part, it was straight missionary sex, and there was no anal sex, although I heard it mentioned once and I saw Carol shake her head vigorously and object, as did Claire.

The whole episode actually got sort of boring, except for the times when I saw Claire scream out and writhe in a very vivid orgasm. Carol tended to stop moving and moan with her orgasms. Claire was definitely animated, and it excited me to see, primarily because it was exactly the same way she reacted with me currently whenever we had sex.

So far, the only thing unusual about the whole thing was the number of guys each of the girls had sex with over the period of the video; and the interracial element, of course; not that the race thing bothered me. If I had counted right, Carol had had sex with six of the guys and Claire had had sex with all nine, with two of them doing her twice.

I wondered what such a big deal about all of this was, as it related to Claire and me today, that is. After all, this had all happened before I even knew of the existence of Claire Ruth McNamee. I could see where there might be some sexual excitement for some women at the prospect of an evening of endless cock, but Claire had given me no indication in all our time together that she had desires for that kind of activity. I mean, she had assured me many times that I gave her all the sexual satisfaction that she needed. I decided to ask her what the deal was when I finally sat down with her.

I specifically wanted to know why she had left these details out of our sex revelation talks before we were married, and even afterward. I put the disk away and locked it in a lower desk drawer.

Going outside, I sat in the car and activated the GPS tracker. When I saw where Claire's car was, I pulled out my cell phone and hit the first speed dial button.

After four rings -- five would have taken it to voice mail -- I heard her answer softly. "Hello, Wade."

"Honey, where the hell are you?" I asked, knowing that she had come back into town and was parked in the lot of the Holiday Inn Express. "I've been worried about you ever since you ran out of Mindy's classroom. Roger and Nan are worried too."

Claire was silent for about five seconds. Then I heard her say, "I couldn't face you after what Mindy said. I couldn't face my kids either, or my parents. I am staying by myself tonight, Wade, and I'm not telling you where I will be. I may stay more than one night. I have to get some things clear in my head and let things calm down a bit; then we will talk. Please let me have some space for a day or two. If you still want me to be your wife after what you heard today, and after what I have to tell you later, I will be the happiest woman in the world; but ... you need time to think on it and I need time too."

"Sweetie, I don't need time. I made my decision over ten years ago," I said. But, before I could say anything else, she interrupted.

"I know, but that was then. This is now, and I need some time now. Please give me the time I need and let me call you when I'm ready. Okay?"

I sighed and, hedging a bit on the truth, said, "Okay, Sweetie. I am worried about you, not knowing where you are, and not knowing exactly when I will see you again."

"I know, Honey. I'm sorry; about this; about ALL of this. I love you," she said as she punched off the connection. I looked at the phone as I thought about what she was doing. I was a little upset that she would not tell me where she was; I mean, I knew where she was because of the tracker, but the fact that she would not give me the assurance of a specific location irritated me. Irreconcilable? Not really; just irritating.

I called Claire's parents' house number and Roger answered. I told him that I had talked to Claire on the phone and she had assured me that she was all right. I did not tell him that I already knew where she was, not did I mention anything about my recently-acquired knowledge of his and his wife's earlier single experiment with a wilder lifestyle. I only related to him that Claire had given me sufficient assurances that she was in a safe situation. She just needed some alone time.

Roger complimented me on my ability to take the situation as it was and remain calm and not be upset with Claire more than I was. I assured him that I really was upset, just not to the point of endangering our marriage. He thanked me for the call and said he would pass the good news on to Nan. I spoke to the kids and told them that everything was okay with their mom and that she and I both loved them, and for them to mind Grandma and Grandpa; and then Roger came back on and we said goodnight and hung up.

I sacked out, but it took me over an hour to get to sleep finally. I was still trying to absorb all of this and figure out just what it was that Claire was thinking and what exactly she was afraid of.

The next morning was Friday and, coffee in hand, I checked the tracker in my 4Runner and was relieved to see that her car was still at the Holiday Inn Express. I would still keep track of Claire's location all day, just in case she decided to run for some reason.

I actually found that I had the desire and a sufficient degree of comfort necessary to go in to the office for the two appointments scheduled for Friday -- one late in the morning and one just after lunch. They went well and I was finally able to convince the husband in the afternoon couple's appointment that term insurance was good for covering short-term things, but that he needed some whole life coverage. I mean, term is short for terminate -- it ends. Whole life means just that -- it's there for your whole life; and, since people are living longer these days; I did not want him to outlive all of his insurance. His wife was especially relieved when he signed on the dotted line.

I checked my morning email to see the automatically-generated log of her travels and verified that she had not gone anywhere yesterday except out the highway to the east, then back, and had remained at the hotel all night. It was a relief to know that she had not gone to any houses on the west side of town; at least not in her own car. Yeah, that last bit of doubt was still there and I would not be rid of it finally until we could talk.

As my afternoon appointment left, I wanted to check the tracker once again for Claire's current location. As anxious as I felt, I still had deliberately refrained from calling her in order to respect her wish for some space and some time. The afternoon email with the log indicated that her car had remained at the hotel parking lot the whole morning. I went out to my 4Runner and turned on the tracker again, noting that the time was now closing in on four o'clock in the afternoon.

It's a good thing that I checked when I did. Claire was on the move. I noted her direction of travel and nodded to myself. There were still about three-and-a-half hours of daylight, and I knew where she was headed.

The quarry.

When I saw the turn-off for the dirt road leading to the quarry, I just breezed on past and parked off to the side of the highway onto a former construction cutout. The surface was firm and I was not worried about getting stuck. Not with my four-wheel drive.
The tracker showed Claire's car stationary about a quarter of a mile from my location, up the dirt road and near what I guessed was the giant hole in the ground from the actual quarry diggings themselves. I just hoped that it did not rain before she left that area, as the road might not support her getting her Camry out of there.

I pulled out my Smartphone and occupied myself while I waited with my eBook. This time, as I read, I was actually able to follow along the story a little better than in recent days. I noted that I only had two bars of cellular service signal out here, but it was enough and I kept the phone attached to the car adaptor so that I would not be out of power when Claire finally called me to talk.

That happened so suddenly -- at about six -- that I jumped when it startled me. I waited to get my heartbeat down and my breathing back to normal before answered, but in time to avoid the call's going to voice mail. "Hello, Sweetie."

"Wade ... I ...," sigh, "It's probably time for us to talk."

I was already out of the 4Runner, and had hit the remote key fob button to lock it. I was walking and talking at the same time. "Are you ready to tell me why you haven't been totally forthcoming this past week?" I tried to hide the fact that my breathing was getting labored as I was walking rapidly.

Claire was quiet for a few seconds. Then, "Yes; it's time to tell you about everything. I don't want there to be any more unanswered questions between us. Honey, please don't hate me."

"Sugar, I couldn't hate myself; and you are part of me; and you have been for the past ten years or so. No, I won't hate you." I tried to sound reassuring without wheezing as I was moving quickly through the sparse woods and brush to close the distance between us. I wanted to surprise her by joining her on foot without her hearing the vehicle's engine noise. I was getting close now.

Claire sighed and asked, "I am at the old quarry. How long do you think it will take you to get here?" I looked through the trees and saw Claire's car about a hundred meters farther along, parked well off the trail and into the trees.

"Oh; probably about a minute-and-a-half," I said, as I cut through the woods directly for her position.

"What? Where?" I saw Claire get out of her car and look around. She must have heard me tromping through the brush because she turned in my direction, and looked surprised for a second; then she smiled, and put her phone away. I clicked off the connection and put my phone in the back pocket of my slacks, where I usually carry it.

I ran the last twenty meters and swept Claire up into my arms, hugging her tightly to me. She held onto me desperately and began to sob into my shoulder. I just held her and let her cry. For about five minutes, I just held her without saying a word, except to whisper that I loved her and to reassure her that I was hers forever and things were going to be all right.

Finally, she pulled away, opened the passenger side door of her car and then reached into the glove box for some tissue. She honked as she blew her nose and looked at me embarrassed at the very un-lady-like noise she had made. I just grinned at her as she dropped the used tissue into a trash bag that she kept behind the passenger seat.

She asked, "How did you know where ..." I held my hand up.

"I've seen your high school yearbook before and read what your classmates wrote back then. Given that this is the start of the Memorial Day weekend and the fifteenth year anniversary of your graduation, I figured that this place must be important to you, and I started heading in this direction. It looks like I guessed right about where you would be tonight." Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed for a second, but I guess she bought my story, based on the thin smile that followed. She had known for years my penchant for paying attention to details.

"Come with me," Claire said to me, taking my hand and beginning to lead me through the thin woods. "I want to show you something; and I ... I need to tell you some things about my past that may upset you." We walked about thirty meters farther in and came to a clearing that was adjacent to and overlooked the actual hole of the old abandoned quarry -- now fenced and posted with warning signs -- just down the hill. I could see the water in the bottom from where we stood.

"Wade. I need to tell you something about me that I have been afraid to tell you before; and, when I do, please try not to hate me." Claire was not looking directly at me and I could see the concern on her face.

"Before you start," I said gently, "Could I ask you something?"

Claire looked at me with her brow furrowed and nodded.

I looked around the clearing and tried to note the details. I spotted a prominent rock that I recognized from the video I had seen of the event fifteen years before. I took a deep breath and turned to look at her face.

"Isn't this the spot where the gangbang took place?" I asked in as normal a tone of voice as I could muster.

Claire's face showed a stricken look that contained equal parts surprise, fear, despair, and curiosity. I know, I know; a guy can't really see all of those things in a woman's face. But she was definite startled at my matter-of-fact revelation that I knew about her little soirée all those years ago here at the quarry.

After a long moment of staring at me with her mouth open, Claire's expression became more one of shame as she looked down and away from me. She started to turn away and I saw her shoulders heave a couple of times before she let out with a sob.

"How ... how ..." she started to say as I moved in and put my hands on her shoulders gently.

"You mean, how did I know? I spoke with Carol Newman after school yesterday; we had a rather long talk," I said gently.

"NO!" she said with an anguished voice. "How can you stand to be around me? Sip ... sip ... How can you stand to be around the 'biggest slut and the best fuck' in town; as verified by one of the guys who should know? And now, even my own daughter knows; and, by now, most of the parents in the whole fucking school ... I have tried to get past all that stuff for so long now!"

Then she really began to sob loudly in anguish and deep despair as she tried to pull away from me. I gripped her firmly and turned her so that her face was in my chest as she cried. I did not say anything, but just twisted gently back and forth to offer a soothing movement and just gave out with a soft, "Shh," every now and then, trying to get her to calm down.

I began a gentle nudge that got her walking and I began to lead us slowly back toward her car. When we got there, I reached in this time and got the whole tissue package out. I figured that she would need more than just one or two before this was all over.

She cried and held a tissue to her nose as I held her. This went on for maybe three or four minutes before she raised her eyes to mine. Seeing me smile, she took another tissue and blew her nose. "So; what all did Carol tell you and how much do you know about your ..." she twisted her mouth into an ironic smirk, "... slut wife?" This brought more tears to her eyes.

I kissed her forehead and began to speak softly. As I related what I had learned from Carol, I interspersed my tale with assurances that I loved Claire despite what I had learned about her sexual activities in the years before we had met.

When I had finished, Claire looked at me seriously and nodded. Blowing her nose again, she said to me, "Carol might be able to tell you the facts about those times and events. But there is no way she can understand the emotions associated with all of those events during those years."

Claire spent the next half hour telling about how she had been excited beyond her ability to explain when she had been invited to her first swing event and had lost her virginity to a really experienced guy in the person of Chris. She apologized to me again, not for having given up her virginity to Chris -- she had already told me about him ten years before -- but for neglecting to tell me the conditions under which it had happened.

Claire went on to tell me that, between the swinging events, she had felt so energized by being part of something that was so grown-up and mature -- and secret. But she also felt the tingling fear that came from realizing that, if what she and the swing community were doing became public knowledge, a whole lot of people would be in trouble, with a lot of reputations ruined.

Claire revealed to me that there was also a thrill to it all that walked hand-in-hand with the fear. The thrill of getting away with so much sexual activity on such a large scale carried a subliminal arousal that was always with her when she was back home or in school after a swinging weekend. Being a cheerleader and popular, and being around jocks quite often, this constant buzz led her to be very free with her sexual charms when she went out on dates, primarily with athletes -- a few of whom were also part of the swing family culture. I knew that she had dated a lot and had had sex a lot in her senior year at high school and the first year or two at college -- she had told me all this before we got married. Now I knew what had contributed to her free-wheeling attitude about her sexual adventures during that time.

When the subject of the big Memorial Day Weekend Gangbang finally came around, she started to get tears in her eyes again, but maintained her composure enough to continue to tell me about what she had felt during all of that.

"Wade -- when Carol, Gay, and I came out here with Dwight, Tim, and Harvey, I was under the impression that it was just going to be a date with sex involved, like many times before. But I thought that, with Carol along -- remember, she had never been part of the swing scene like the rest of us -- we would move off somewhat privately as individual couples away from each other to have sex.

"I did not know that the guys had planned for a somewhat public orgy; neither did I know that Gay had been warned ahead of time by Tim. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised. But we had all had enough to drink by that time that my resistance to all the in-your-face sex was all but gone. I was simply drunk and horny by the time we began fucking. We were all caught up in it after a while and having a wonderful time. I saw that Carol was not as shy by then as she had been when we had arrived at the quarry, and she was really into things with Dwight once things got moving along.

"We had all finished having sex for the first time and were sitting around drinking some more, when six senior basketball players drove into the quarry area. I was just pissed, but Carol was panicked. She had never been part of group sex before and, while I had been, I was still upset that we had not been warned by the guys -- or Gay -- of what Dwight had set up.

"Wade, you told me that Carol was not sure if Dwight had put something in our drinks or if they were just stronger than usual. To this date, I still don't know. For me, it would not have mattered at the time; because I got quickly aroused by the sight of those well-muscled naked basketball players. I think that my willingness to go along with the rest of the evening, to a large extent, was what swayed Carol to go along as well.

"I may have had more orgasms that night than I had experienced altogether in the previous eight months. All those guys were really working me over, fucking me, and worshiping my body. It was all heady stuff for eighteen-year-old girls and guys. Carol would have sudden pauses and quiet shivers to show her orgasms, but she seemed to be enjoying herself as well, once things got started. So, my early concerns for her vanished after the second guy hopped on and started fucking me.

"It was all hazy to me as one guy would finish and another would climb on. A couple of times, they would get me and Carol on all fours and take us from both ends. I may have been drunk and horny, but I still maintained enough of my wits to tell them, 'No,' very emphatically whenever one of the guys would even hint at taking my asshole. Carol was so out of it that I felt that I needed to defend her against that type of thing as well. Years later, she thanked for doing that. She has told me she still does not like anal, having tried it once with Dwight and finding it too uncomfortable.

"When all the guys had fucked themselves out, we all began to wipe ourselves off and tried to find our clothes. That is when Carol and I saw Gay with Tim's digital camera and realized that Gay had not participated in any of the activities after her initial round of sex with Tim. Thus, she wasn't actually in any of the video footage. Once again, I was pissed and Carol began to freak out. Her dad was in politics at the time and pictures or video of his little girl involved in a gangbang, and an interracial one at that, would have put the nail in his political coffin.

"We got Tim to drop the memory card -- or so we thought -- into the lake at the bottom of the quarry. We only found out later that he had kept the card and had only dropped his spare battery into the water. After that, Gay and Tim, who had not drunk so much, took us all home."

Claire blew her nose and looked away for a few seconds. Then she said, "When you and I met in college, I still enjoyed sex, but I had quit the swing scene by then -- the last one I attended was just before I left for college. I guess that night at the quarry, and especially seeing Carol's reaction to all of that, had triggered something in me. I did not want to be part of the somewhat public sex scene any more, as the swing crowd did.

"Plus, at that time, there were some investigations going on because one or two of the teens had been bragging and had let the word get out about all the wild swing parties, and some politicians were trying make names for themselves by closing this ring of so-called evildoers down. You know what politicians always say: 'It's ...it's for the children.' What a laugh. It's for the votes."

"Also, when I met you, for once, I started to take the long view of what I wanted out of life. As you and I began to get serious, I found that I really wanted to be a wife and partner that you could be proud of. I wanted to start over in my attitude about sex and be monogamous with you. I did not want to sleep around or party any more. And, during all of our time together, despite offers from some of the old crowd, and despite passes from some male coworkers and some of our buyers from out of town every now and then -- and no; I won't tell you who; it's not that important -- I have been absolutely faithful and true to you."

She gave me a thin smile now and plopped her hand down on one of mine as we half-sat, leaning against the hood of her Camry. Her smile faded when she saw that I had not returned a smile, but was in fact frowning. "What is it, Wade?"

Chapter 6

"Why, if you have been faithful and true to me, did you lie about the phony Majestic parties all this week?" I still did not want to reveal to her the extent of my knowledge about her subterfuge, as it would give away my relationship with Sonny and some of the techniques I had used to spy on her.

"I saw Jill this past Wednesday morning, the day after the party that was supposed to be at her place, and she looked at me like I was from Mars when I asked about how the party went," I said. I actually had seen Jill the next day, but I had said nothing about the party. I wanted to see Claire's reaction now and hear her story to see if she would actually tell me the truth.

Claire's tears got more pronounced, but she sniffed and wiped her eyes as she looked away and said, "Wade, I am so sorry that I told you those things that were patently false, but I was desperate to keep you from knowing about my former swing life in general and about the gangbang at the quarry in particular. After fifteen years of being past all that, and having left those things out of my revelations to you before we married, I was so ashamed and so afraid that, if you found out now, you might get angry and even possibly leave me.

"Dwight and Carol had fallen in love and were married in college and he had gotten her into the swing scene while there. Harvey had done the same with Joy after they had married after college. Tim and Gay, it seems, never quit. They had urged me to get back into that scene at various times over the years. When I put them off, saying that I was sure that you not would go for it ..."

At this point, I interjected, "And you were correct in that. I do not want to share my wife with any man ... or woman for that matter." She nodded and continued.

"Anyway, after a while, Dwight actually asked me to get back into the swing scene without you. I told him to go to hell. Not only did what he was proposing violate all the rules of swinging, I was not going to put my marriage in danger by cheating on my husband; period.

"Well, things were quiet until a few weeks ago. Evidently, Tim found his old video memory card with the gangbang footage on it and had it formatted for his computer. At one of the swing events that he and Gay hosted, he showed it to Dwight, Carol, Harvey, and Joy. I learned later that Joy was surprised to know that I had been part of all that back in 'the day.' Dwight and Harvey were overjoyed to see that the video had survived.

"A few days later, Dwight called me and asked me for a meeting in his office at the school. There, he told me that he wanted me to get back into the scene -- with or without you -- and, if I refused, he was going to have Tim let you see the gangbang video and tell you about my former swing life. He even said that he would get Tim to post the video on the internet and pass out the URL to all of our friends and as many of your clients as he could get emails for.

"To seal the deal, he wanted me to have one-on-one sex with Harvey, Tim, and him; and then join them tonight out here to reenact the big event from that night. I was frightened that he would carry out his threat to tell you, but I did not commit. He was so sure of himself and feeling a bit arrogant when he made the comment about me probably still being the biggest slut and the best fuck in town as I was leaving his office doorway to get Mindy, who was waiting right outside.

"I ... I guess her ears were better than I suspected." At this point, she began to cry again, but it was not the cry of anguish as before. This was simply a cry of sadness. I held her and stroked her hair as I waited for her to get herself together enough to continue.

When I saw that she had calmed down a bit, I framed my next question so as not to accuse Claire of trying to have sex with those three guys this week. Instead, I asked, "So, what were you doing for the last three nights, if you weren't at Majestic parties and, as you claimed earlier, you still were remaining 'absolutely faithful and true' to me?"

Claire's eyes got more serious. I thought she might want to ask me if I knew anything about the mishaps that had occurred at the Bland and Harmon homes, but she did not. Instead, she said, "Wade, I'm so sorry I lied to you, but I had to try to shut this whole thing down without your finding out.

"I attempted to go first to Harvey's and then Tim and Gay's houses; but it was only to try to convince them to stop all of this and to destroy that video. I was supposed to be with Harvey on Tuesday; but, when I got there, no one answered the door. I only found out the next day that he had been assaulted and robbed.

"But, Wade, I swear, I was not going to have sex with Harvey, or any of them, for that matter. I only went to Harvey's so that I could plead with him in person to get Dwight and Tim to stop with the threats. This was not like them, and I wanted them to get back on the right track and leave me and my family alone.
"Well, when I failed to see Harvey, I just drove to the Wal-Mart and parked in their lot. I strolled around inside for several hours, looking at merchandise and trying to cheer myself up by watching some of the strange people that shop there."

I nodded and looked away as I thought about what she had said. I guess it was all plausible. For now, I would give her the benefit of the doubt. But I still planned on going back over the GPS log files in my emails to track her past movements. Trust, but verify.

"What about Wednesday night; where were you supposed to go that night, and what did you do?" I asked with all the innocence of supposed ignorance that I could muster.

Claire sighed and said, "Wednesday I was supposed to go to the Harmons and participate in a threesome with Tim and Gay." She looked up at me and hesitated. Then she said, "I actually went."

She saw me scowl, and added, "But it was only to try to talk them out of all this nonsense and to get them to back off on their threats to harm our relationship and to get them to destroy that damned video that Tim had kept.

"Like the night before, I went to the house where I had been scheduled to participate in sex. But, once again, fate intervened. I tried for about five minutes to get Gay or Tim to answer the doorbell; and I was even about to try their back door, when you called. I'm sorry once again for lying to you on the phone about being at the Claiborne's, but I was just so desperate to try to contain all of this craziness that had entered my life. Please, can you ever forgive me?"

I looked at her and stroked her cheek with a finger of my left hand. "Sweetie, I can forgive you and I do; but I can tell you that it is going to take quite a while for me to get over the disappointment I'm experiencing because you did not trust me with the truth. That is the kind of thing that eats away at my own trust of you as well. And trust is one of the foundations of marriage."

I felt a twinge of conscience as I said all of this, since I had not told Claire all about my business dealings with Sonny and the boys. But, this was not an appropriate time or venue to come clean about that. I would definitely plan to tell her later. But, until that time, I had a role to play.

"In all of this, it looks like you did not trust me enough to tell me; and, by your lying and sneaking around trying to solve this on your own, it has caused me to wonder if I can trust you. We are supposed to be a team, you and me. Trying to do all this alone, with you cutting me out, has left me feeling hurt as well as disappointed.

"But I'm not giving up on us. I am committed to working on this with you for as long as it takes for us to get past this. Are you?"

"Oh, Wade, you know I am," Claire gushed as she threw herself into my arms and cried for a couple of minutes into my chest. After she calmed down and went through a couple of more tissues, she looked up at me.

Taking a deep breath, Claire broached the subject that I was dreading. "Wade, I ... I can't help but feel like the attacks on the Harmons and the Blands were just too coincidental. Either Providence was working on my behalf or else someone else knew about what they were doing to me, and ... whoever ... was trying to make a violent statement to them to back off.

"And when I got to the school yesterday for your presentation, I swung by the school office before going to Mindy's classroom, hoping to be able to try put Dwight off about last night's scheduled visit to his and Carol's house. I heard one of the ladies there say that Dwight had been called out of town suddenly for a family emergency of some sort."

Claire chuckled a bit uneasily as she looked intently at me and asked, "Wade, you didn't have anything to do with those ... things that went on at the Bland and Harmon houses, or with Dwight's sudden need to travel, did you?"

I pulled away and put on a phony look of angry offense. "Claire, you know me. I deal in finances and numbers. I am not a very physical specimen and I have never been a man of violence. Do you honestly believe that I could subdue an adult male and nail his foot to the floor?" I made it sound so ridiculous as to be laughable.

"No," Claire said with a sigh after a moment's pause, "It ... it just seemed so ... well, like I said, coincidental. That's all."

I went on the attack so that she would get off this line of thinking. "What about last night; and why did you come out here tonight?"

Claire smiled that thin smile again and said, "There's an old saying about women; 'when the going gets tough, the tough go shopping.' I went to the mall in Tucker, just east of here, and browsed through Penney's and Target for a couple of hours. Then I checked into the Holiday Inn Express back here in town and had a pizza delivered.

"After being 'outed' by my own daughter in front of all those people at the school, and, even worse, my own husband, I needed to get away for a bit. I tossed and turned and slept very little until this morning, when housekeeping ran me out of my hotel room.

"I checked out and just came out here to look at the old place and collect my thoughts about how I was finally going to tell you the truth. I figured that Dwight would not come out here by himself, since his other 'partners in slime' were incapacitated, so I felt reasonably safe in coming out here and inviting you to join me so that I could show you where my lowest act of sexual depravity took place."

She looked at me expectantly. I needed to make a choice. I could crush her, assure her, or tease her. I chose assurance.

What? You think I am going to push away the love of my life over all of this? She had been true to me sexually after all. We were going to have to have some more talks about trust and absolute transparency in our marriage, on both our parts, but I figured we had about another forty or fifty years together to work all that out and I planned on staying with her 'till death do us part.'

"Claire, My Love," I said, holding her face gently between my hands, and seriously lying to her as I reassured her, "I haven't seen that video of Tim's; but, believe it or not, I really would like to. I have this mental image of you caught up in the ecstasy of extreme sex and I can't help but react like a nasty man." She looked at me strangely.

I took her hand and put it against my groin so that she could feel my erection. "Understand me; I do not want to share you with another man now that we are married; or another woman, for that matter. But it would sure be hot to see how you looked back in your early years involved in hot sex in the great outdoors. I guess what the feminists all say is true; men really are pigs; oink."

Claire sprang up and leaped into my arms hugging me tightly. Then she pulled her head around and began to kiss me frantically all over my face, finally ending up at my lips. She had been crying and her nose was still not clear enough to make the kisses last long; after all, she had to breathe.

"Oh, Wade, oh, my lover man!" Claire said over and over. "I was so worried that you would not want me anymore. I really was such a slut back then, and I have been trying to overcome that and be a good wife to you, and a good role model to my daughter and son, ever since we were married and started our family. I did not want you to know about all of that old stuff. I guess I should have had more faith in my man. You are just so wonderful!" With that, she hugged me so tight that I was having a hard time breathing.

When she loosened her arms, Claire looked at me and a sly look came to her face. She wiggled her ass on my lap and said, "I can see that having gone these past four days without sex has left you as randy as I am." She ground her ass again and I groaned as she pressed against my erection. It felt as if it were probably hard enough to cut diamonds.

I looked at my wife, my partner in life, and my lover, and wagged my eyebrows. I asked, "What do you say to our creating a good memory out here at the quarry, one that we can look back on with joy and the ability to say that we made a new start here together?"

Claire looked at me with a touch of seriousness mixed with her already horny mood and said simply, "Wade Sloan, I am not going to get ticks while we fuck. Let's get in the back seat of my car. I'm so horny right now and I want you inside me right away, my lover man. I'm not interested in a big build-up or prolonged foreplay. I want you to fuck me senseless. Anything less is simply unacceptable."

We must have broken a speed record in getting naked and in position with Claire's gorgeous nude body lying on her back on the back seat of the Camry with one foot behind the head restraint for the back seat and the other between the two separate front seats propped on the console. I dived in and licked her pussy only three times before she screamed out and panted, "Damn it, Wade, just fuck me ... NOW!"

I complied.

Fifteen minutes and three good orgasms later, two for her and one for me, we rested in each other's sweat-covered arms. After a short period of testing up and recovering, I maneuvered us around with Claire on all fours on the seat with her ass stuck out of the door. I stood outside of the car, bent my knees slightly, and entered her from behind. Claire sighed and moaned and rocked to match my rhythm as I pumped my dick into her still very tight but very wet pussy.

After a few minutes of this, I shot into her with a moan, and right along with a very loud cry from Claire, and we just stayed still for a minute. We were just enjoying the feeling of being joined and basking in the afterglow of really good sex between two people who really love each other.

Since I was the one outside the car and was actually looking over the top of the roof of the Camry, I was the first to hear the approach of another vehicle and then to spot a maroon Suburban as it passed our location. Claire's Camry was far enough off the track leading into the quarry that we were evidently not noticed by any of the folks in the car as they passed.

I hurriedly pulled my cock out of my wife's dripping pussy and pulled her out of the car to keep the cum from staining the car seat. We quietly shared the box of tissues as we cleaned up and reached for our clothes.

From where we were with relation to the new arrivals, we heard the doors of their big SUV slam and then we heard the laughter and voices of several people. We could not be sure at that point, but they sounded pretty young, and pretty excited.

Wow, I thought; this place must still be the spot for a lot of petting and sex over the years. I whispered to Claire that we should get into the Camry quietly and, once it was started, drive on out quickly so that we could get away from this bunch of young folks before they could see us and start any trouble.

Claire evidently had a daring streak in her. She whispered, "Let's sneak over and have a peek at what's going on. I'll bet it's a bunch of horny young people planning on having a nice time out here at Fuck-Me Central."

Before I could object, Claire was already moving away toward the sounds. She had left her shoes in the car. With the soft mat of pine straw covering the ground all around us, I was not too concerned that she would hurt her feet. I was more concerned about a combination of dealing with poison ivy and trying to deal with an irritated young guy or guys who might take offense at my wife's and my spying on them or interrupting their well-made plans for sex with their dates tonight.

As we got to a break in the woods from which we could watch the scene before us without having to step out from the trees and brush, we observed the new arrivals. There were four guys, none of whom was a very imposing physical specimen; they just looked like typical older teens or young adults.

The two girls with them were very pretty and were dressed in very slutty tank tops and very short, high-cut short pants, with the moons of their ass cheeks clearly hanging out the bottoms in back. They were obviously dressed to arouse and to incite sexy thoughts in the minds of any straight males within sight of them.

While none of them looked or sounded drunk, their bright spirits had obviously been enhanced by some form of intoxicant. This thought was reinforced when I saw one of the guys pull a cooler out of the back of the Suburban and remove cans of beer to pass around. There was a brief toast and they all tilted the cans, with the girls sipping and the guys taking big swallows.

I noted that they all seemed to be very relaxed, with the exception of one of the girls, the brunette among them. The other girl was blonde and seemed to be hanging off the arm of the tallest of the guys. The other three guys seemed to be glancing between the two girls as they talked and laughed among themselves.

"Tommy," I heard one of the guys finally say to the tall guy with the blonde on his arm. "You ready to get this show on the road? I thought we came out here to get naked and crazy."

I felt Claire's hand on my arm and her fingers squeezed my forearm. Looking at her, I could see that she was either still excited from our recent bouts of sex or else she was getting aroused all over again at the prospect of possibly witnessing sex among these young folks. I couldn't tell at this point. Anyway, the guy named Tommy answered at that point.

"Yeah, Shanna, why don't you and Gaby start out by putting on a little show for us to get this night started right?" he seemed to be talking to the blonde, evidently named Shanna.

Shanna moved toward the other girl, Gaby, and said, "Come on, Honey, let's get naked and show these guys how girls really like to be loved."

The girl, Gaby, pulled away, and said, "Wait a minute. I thought you said we were just coming up here to do some heavy petting and maybe do some skinny-dipping. I didn't agree to come out here to be part of some kind of orgy!" She was obviously getting irritated and the guys were grinning and looking at this Tommy guy to take the lead.

I felt Claire start to take a step out to intrude, and I grabbed her arm to pull her back. I knew what she was thinking as well. I did not want to abandon a young girl to the whims of horny guys who were obviously being caught up in the moment by hormones and alcohol. I just did not want my barefoot and vulnerable wife to get hurt if anything were to start up here. I was reaching for my cell phone so that I could get ready to dial 911, when I heard Tommy respond.

"Now, Gaby, we all know that you ain't no virgin or anything like that. Word around campus is that you have been fucking your way slowly through the entire freshman class." This raised a chuckle from the others. Their looks were becoming more predatory as Tommy continued.

"In fact, the way I hear it, Gaby Hendrix is the biggest slut and the best fuck in this town." That caused the other guys to laugh out loud. They were still laughing when the next voice to cut loudly through the clearing caused them to stop making any sounds at all and look our way with alarm.

"No. Those titles belong to me!"

My wife had called out loudly so that God and everybody could hear. I pushed the 'call' button on my phone and said softly to the 911 operator that I thought I had seen what looked like a gang fight developing at the old quarry and could they send a patrol car as quickly as possible. I clicked off the call before any more conversation could take place, as I needed to concentrate on protecting my wife and getting our asses out of here.

"Who the fuck are you, Lady?" I heard Tommy say finally with a bit of false bravado. He had to maintain the alpha dog role here for his friends.

Claire and I stepped out and I moved slightly ahead of her and grinned with false confidence as I said, "That was my wife who said that. It seems that, fifteen years ago, she was very ... shall we say ... popular in school and she and her friends had a party out here to celebrate their graduation. We came out to see the place and we heard you guys drive up."

"Well, now that you have had your little stroll down memory lane, why don't you folks just drive on out of here, Mister, and let us have our own celebration?" one of the other guys said. He tried to sound tough, but the look of doubt and a bit of fear gave his true feelings away.

Claire just had to say something at that point. "I meant what I said; the titles of biggest slut and best fuck were mine fifteen years ago and I earned them right out here. Are you guys planning to screw the night away like my friends and I did? We really had a ball, I can tell you."

As she said all this, it came to me that she was really trying to intercede on behalf of this Gaby girl by trying to sound outlandishly trashy. The reaction to her words might just get some truth to peek out from hiding among these horny guys.

The girl, Gaby, looked around in shock as Tommy said, "Yeah, we are planning to make us some really sexy memories here tonight. So, why don't you folks leave and let us get on with it?"

Gaby dropped her can in the dirt and put her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, "You what? You mean you set this up, planning for us all to be fucking out here after all? You bastard! I never agreed to any of that!"

I had an idea that might get even more of the light of truth to shine in and amongst this gathering. "Hey," I said, "Maybe my wife and I could help you guys out so that it frees one or two of you up for the fun. You need help with the video?"

"That's all right, I got it," one of the other guys said, before Tommy rounded on him.

"Shut the fuck up, Asshole!" said Tommy, but Gaby had already heard the interchange.

"VIDEO? Tommy, you sonofabitch! Just what the fuck were you expecting? Stage a gangbang and get me on video so that you could post it up on one of the internet porn sites?" Gaby was screaming now.

Tommy was beginning to see his well-laid plans to coerce this Gaby girl into sex with all of the guys and capture it on video -- not unlike what had happened to Claire and Carol fifteen years ago -- rapidly going to hell in a hand basket.

"Hey! Look, Gaby, you agreed to come out here for skinny-dipping and some groping and grabbing. What the hell did you expect? That we were just going to settle for a look-see and a quick feel? No way!"

"Well, you can just go naked in the water without me and grope and grab your own cock, you turd! I am so out of here!" Gaby turned to walk away, when one of the guys reached out to keep her from going by grabbing her arm. She rounded on him and slapped him, causing his grip to let go.

Gaby took advantage of this distraction to dash over to us, where my wife reached out and took the girl in her arms. Claire glared over toward the boys, letting them know that this girl was now in the role of cub and Claire was 'Mama Bear.'

I stood with my legs apart and with a look of false bravado as I put my hands loosely on my own hips to take on the 'cool and collected' look. I knew that one or two of the guys was nervous enough just with having been interrupted by Claire's and my presence in the first place. Now, not only to have the object of their intentions for a sexual foray, Gaby, turn out to be resisting said foray; and to have me and my wife turning into Gaby's protectors, with all the intentions of making a good effort at whipping anyone's ass who tried to mess with the girl; things were coming apart for them mentally as well as physically.

I decided to turn up the heat a bit. "Guys, if you don't want to have to explain to Five-Oh why a bunch of under-21 guys are out here drinking, I would suggest that you beat feet. I called 911 about five minutes ago. And, in this town and county, the first responders average fourteen minutes or less on a 911 call." I was totally pulling these numbers out of my ass, but they did not know it.
Shanna finally took charge of their side of the conversation. "Come on, Tommy; Guys. Let's get out of here. I already have my daddy mad at me for one charge of underage drinking at a frat party. If I get another one, he will ground me until I'm fifty." Turning back toward us, she said, "Gaby, are you coming?"

Gaby looked at Claire with eyes of supplication. Claire nodded to her. "No, I'm going back with these folks."

Tommy tried to reestablish some leadership at this point. "Yeah! Well, suit yourself, you silly bitch. See if we invite you out with our friends anymore." With that, he nodded and one of the other guys put the cooler back into the back of the Suburban while everyone else packed the other stuff in the passenger compartment. Within less than a minute, they had all gotten into the big SUV, had it turned around, and were driving off, with Tommy flicking us the bird as he drove off; a real wannabe bad-ass to the end, I thought.

Claire and I, along with Gaby, drove out the dirt road in the Camry and I got out of the car at the highway pull-off to retrieve my 4Runner as we saw a car driven by a sheriff's deputy -- with lights, but no siren -- cut off the highway and into the narrow dirt road leading to the quarry. We got out of there before he could return to ask us about anything happening out there and tie us into the activities of that evening.

* * * *

I would later get a call from the police department's administrative offices to follow up on my 911 call -- it seems that caller ID had shown them my cell number. I told them that I had indeed called them as I had passed the quarry and reported what I thought I had seen, but I had unfortunately lost the signal from my cell phone carrier before I could tell them anymore.

They were a bit leery of my story, but they let the matter drop. I never got any grief over it -- small town and all.

I reflected later on this whole business and was happy that it had all settled out with no infidelity and with Claire and me agreeing that we could continue to live here together in her old home town. As for the gas and grocery purchases that I had seen in our online bank records, and which had led me on my merry quest for information about my wife's activities in the first place -- she really had been out on the west side of town on legitimate business.

The wife of one of my client couples at their next financial review meeting with me asked me to thank Claire for moving the venue for the Majestic Jewelry party that night at the last minute -- from their house on the east side of town to a friend's house -- on the west side. Thus, I had a legitimate explanation for Claire's west-side-of-town purchases on the night that had gotten my curiosity in an uproar.

Within a week following our adventures at the quarry, Carol Newman hired a divorce lawyer and began proceedings against Dwight. She had her lawyer contact me and I worked with both of them to begin the process of dividing financial assets.

Carol, through a PI, had obtained proof of Dwight's screwing around at his out-of-town 'educational' conferences. Even during the week that he was out of town to avoid a potential 'home invasion followed by a visit to a podiatrist,' Dwight evidently was shacked up with a divorced teacher in a neighboring town, and Carol's PI got it all captured in video and stills.

Carol kicked him out as soon as he got back. I heard that he often moved from temporary apartment to temporary apartment frequently after than -- afraid of something -- or someone -- I guess.

* * * *

I had beaten Claire home from the quarry by about forty minutes on the big night, after our own New Quarry Adventure, since she had needed to drop Gaby off at the girl's house. As Claire came into the kitchen upon her return home, I wrapped her in my arms and told her that I loved her.

"And, if you ever get weird on me again, I will violate my own rule about not lifting a hand against a woman and I will take a belt to your ass!" I said, jokingly.

"Oooh, and I never knew that you were kinky that way," teased my wife, as we both laughed and held each other. Then she said, "You just need to understand that a woman can get into all kinds of weird moods and get awfully crazy when her hormones start to get out of whack."

I thought about that for a few quiet seconds before it hit me. I deal in recognizing small details, remember? Still holding her close to me, I chuckled and asked, "When are you due?"

She squeezed me back and after a moment said, "First of February ... Smartass." Then she pinched my side playfully.

With a new reason for joy and intimacy established, we hugged and just held each other for a few minutes right there in the middle of the kitchen. Then I said, "You said something Wednesday about rocking my world this weekend. Since Nan and Roger have the kids, do you want to get an early start tonight?"

Claire gave me a put on surprised look and asked, "After doing it twice this afternoon at the quarry?"

I grinned and responded, "Hey, what can I say? I'm still turned on and inspired by the idea of being married to the 'Biggest and Best'."

Claire frowned and said seriously, "Wade, please don't joke about that." I worried for a minute that I might have killed the mood for any 'frisky business.' Then she smiled lovingly and said, "I just want to be your 'Biggest Supporter' and to be the 'Best Wife and Partner' for you that I can be."

"Okay, okay," I said and hugged her again, cupping the cheeks of her ass in my hands.

We each held an arm around the other as we left the kitchen and climbed the stairs leading to our bedroom and the first evening of what looked to be an adventurous weekend in bed. Entering our bedroom, we kissed and began to take each other's clothes off. Once we were naked, we pressed our bodies together and kissed gently as we stood there before moving toward the bed. Claire looked up at my face and cocked her head to the side just a tiny bit.

"Wade," she began gently, "please; tell me; and be honest. Did you have anything to do with what happened to Harvey, Gay, Tim, and Dwight?"

Here it was. We were making a new beginning in the area of communication, trust, and absolute honesty. I could tell her the truth and fulfill the spirit of those ideas, or I could hedge and be a hypocrite.

I suddenly had a vision of Al Pacino in his role as Michael Corleone at the end of the first Godfather movie being asked by his wife if he were now the head of the mob. I gave Claire my answer.

"No."

Okay; I lied through my teeth ... and, yeah, I am a real hypocrite about trust as well. I will tell her everything, though ... in time.

So, sue me.

THE END