When I Walked In And Started Packing My Things My Cheating Wife Yelled What The Hell Are You Doing?

I might be the first cuckold in the history of screwed up matrimony to actually send his wife's lover a thank you card. Honestly, I really did. I'm almost never sick, but there was a particularly nasty strain of flu going around the office where I was working one Thursday morning, and I was showing the symptoms rather vocally. So rather than infect the whole room, my boss sent me home. It was around noon, and I figured my wife, Beth, could nurse me properly, get me the chicken soup I needed, take my temperature, and generally fuss over

me before putting me to bed. When I pulled onto the street where I lived and approached my house, I noticed a green pickup truck parked in the driveway. I really didn't think anything of it at that particular moment. I couldn't think of anything except how awful I felt. The vehicle wasn't familiar, and since it was taking up space where my beat-up SUV normally sat, I parked by the curb. I went through the garage, which opened into the kitchen. There was no sign of Beth in the kitchen or the front den. At that point, a queasy

feeling, unrelated to the flu, began to build in my gut, especially when I approached the back of the house where our bedroom was located and began to hear the telltale sounds of sex. I tiptoed toward the door, which was cracked ever so slightly, and peaked in. Well, of course, I saw Beth on her hands and knees with some slim guy I'd never seen before kneeling behind her, screwing her for all he was worth. And was she ever loving it. "Oh God, screw me," she wailed. "Come on, give it to me," the man grunted incoherently. I

was looking at them from behind, and they were so wrapped up in what they were doing that they didn't see the door crack open. My reaction was strange. Part of me obviously wanted to go in there and break up their party, but another part of me was just numb. I should say here and now that I was not aroused. When you love someone for as long as I loved Beth, the sight of that person cheating on you is not a turn on, if you're wired normally, and I was, and always had been, a person who

took fidelity seriously. In the space of a heartbeat, the time it took Beth and her boyfriend to come violently, I had an epiphany, a moment of clarity when my future suddenly spread out before my eyes. I made a decision in that moment that my life was changing for the better. I took out my cell phone, pushed the door open, raised the phone with the camera mode on, and took about four really good pictures of the startled lovers. Having gotten visual evidence of my wife's adultery and that of her lover, I turned on my heel and

walked briskly out of the house the same way I had entered. I stopped and grabbed a screwdriver on my way out of the garage, then casually used it to poke large holes in two of the tires on the truck. I know it was childish, but it was the least I could do. Then I got in my SUV and drove off, though not before jotting down the license plate number of the pickup. It was the first day of the rest of my life. As I drove more or less aimlessly, I thought about what I'd just seen

and realized that it had been brewing for a long time. I had no idea how long Beth had been cheating on me, whether this guy was the first or just another in a string. It didn't matter because, truthfully, I didn't care. I guess at this point a little background is in order. My name is Peter Thornhill, and at the time of this story, I was 48 years old and had been married to Beth for exactly half that time. At one point, we were passionately in love. Indeed, it was almost love at first sight. We met

not long after I graduated from college and started with a major manufacturing company located in a midsized Midwestern city. I had been raised in western Nebraska and I had hoped to find something closer to the mountains where I had camped just about every year as a kid. Beth was from the city where we had lived the entirety of our married life. I honestly can't pin down when my marriage turned. It was a very long, very slow decline that wouldn't have been noticeable to the outsider, but it was there, and I could sense it. Toward the

end, we all have dreams, and mine was to live in the mountains and write the Great American novel. I think Beth's big dream was simply to land a husband and raise a family there in her hometown. You know how dreams usually go; they fall apart on the rocky shores of reality. The reality for me was that I ended up stuck in this nondescript Midwestern bird, writing computer programs for the same company I had started with after college. I got to a certain point on the corporate ladder and then got lost as more ambitious men and

women passed me by. Part of my problem was that I wouldn't cut corners. I was a perfectionist where my work was concerned, and I didn't suffer fools who took the easy way out. Another part of my problem was that I became so good at my particular job that I was indispensable in that position. As a result, I got passed over for promotions, although I did receive regular raises and occasional bonuses. But the other part of my problem was that I had a fairly passive personality. I was content to go along to get along. And that

extended to my marriage. Don't get me wrong, Beth was a nice-looking woman with dark brown hair and an ample figure, and I had always loved her. She never quite lost all of the weight she gained having her two children, but I still thought she was sexy. Apparently, so did someone else. We bought a house not long after we were married; it was in a decent neighborhood, but certainly not the high-rent district. The house was built in the 1960s, and some of the things in it hadn't been replaced in all that time, so we gradually replaced

one appliance after another with no particular rhyme or reason. We were always fixing this and patching that. We always talked about buying something better, but after refinancing the mortgage as collateral for loans a couple of times, we found we had priced ourselves out of any chance of selling it. In other words, what it would have taken to pay off the loan and get something better was more than the house was really worth. We could have sold it for less to someone as a fixer-upper, but that still wouldn't have solved the problem of finding someplace better

to live. Then there was the problem with our children. Three years into our marriage, we had a son, Jason. Four years later, came a girl, Laura. These kids were the poster children for why adults in the animal kingdom sometimes eat their young. I tried to be a disciplinarian as much as I could, but Beth's idea of discipline was to give them whatever they wanted, and she refused to let me spank them for any infraction whatsoever. The consequences were pretty drastic. Jason was lazy, disrespectful, and slovenly. Laura was a neurotic nymphomaniac. They learned at an early

age how to play Beth and me against each other to get what they wanted, and as a result, we lost control of them. By the time they became teenagers, Jason was about to lose his sixth minimum wage job since he barely graduated from high school. Seems employers like for their workers to show up on time and in reasonably presentable attire; they're funny that way. He was living in a dumpy old house in town with three of his slacker buddies, and I was pretty sure he was, at the very least, smoking pot and drinking a lot.

Laura was about to flunk out of high school altogether because she couldn't keep the MP3 player out of her ears long enough to pay attention to anything in class. She was also dating some scuzzy college guy with tattoos all up and down both arms. Beth was a nurse who eventually decided she preferred working the night shift. On the days she worked, I would get home around 5:30, and sometimes we'd have dinner together before she left for work around 6:15. Due to our conflicting schedules, we began spending less time together, and our intimacy dwindled. We would

connect physically once or twice a month, typically on a weekend afternoon when she was off. It was always okay; there's no such thing as bad intimacy, but it was fairly routine. We'd go through the motions, with me taking the lead, and it would usually end quickly. Occasionally, Beth would be in the mood and take the initiative, but those moments became increasingly rare. Things were relatively stable until about 18 months before this particular incident, when Beth's mood began to shift. She had always been a bit temperamental, but menopause seemed to hit her hard. She started finding

reasons to avoid intimacy with me, citing headaches, tiredness, or going to bed much earlier than I was ready for. Along with this, she began to criticize more often, finding fault in things I did or didn't do. Looking back on it, the signs were there; I just didn't see them. I'd sometimes call the house during the days when I knew Beth should have been up and around, and I'd get no answer. Sometimes she'd stop in for drinks with some co-workers at an all-night bar that catered to night shift workers. A few times, she'd come home on

weekends when she'd worked and immediately start a load of laundry, like she had something she wanted to wash before I could see it. Everything pointed to Beth's adultery, but like I said, it really didn't matter. So let's review. I was stuck in a dead-end job in a nowhere town. I was living in a rundown house that was overpriced. My sex life was in the toilet. My witchy wife was cheating on me, and my children were budding delinquents. What would you do? Probably what I did. Actually, the very first thing I did was go to the

walk-in clinic to see about my flu. I got a steroid shot and a prescription for an antibiotic. Feeling a little better, I went to Walmart to have my prescription filled and to buy some things I needed; toiletries, a hot plate, a small pot, some soup, and sodas. Then I drove all the way across town and got a motel room. I had stopped at the bank on my way to Walmart and withdrawn some cash to pay for a place to stay for a couple of days. Once I got settled in, I sat down and wrote out

a game plan for the next few days. While I heated a can of soup, I ate as much as I could, put the rest in the mini refrigerator, crawled into bed, and crashed. It was dark when I awoke, and I was a little disoriented until I remembered where I was and why I was there. I was still weak from the flu, and really, I was too dazed by my illness and the shock of seeing Beth like that to fully absorb what had happened. I heated up what was left of the soup, drank a Sprite, and

watched a football game on TV before going back to bed. I did check my cell phone and saw a dozen calls from Beth. I smiled grimly at that. Let her sweat, I thought. I woke up the next morning feeling quite a bit better. The first thing I did was call the office to tell them I wasn't going to be into work. My boss's secretary answered the phone, and after I explained why I was calling, she told me that Beth had called all afternoon looking for me. "She did, did she?" I said. "If she calls today,

and I imagine she will, just tell her I've called in sick and won't be in today. That'll at least get her off your back." "Pete, where are you?" she asked. "Let me put it this way and see if you can figure it out," I said. "I'm not at my house." "Okay then," she said, and I hung up. I had made it very plain that I no longer had a home. I had thought a lot about my course of action, and the more I thought about it, the better I liked it. I really couldn't be mad

at Beth. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want to be married to me any longer. For some reason, she wanted something I couldn't give her. Whatever that was, and I wasn't going to hold her back from whatever it was that she wanted. She wanted to screw other men, fine. I'd give her the freedom to do so and free myself in the process. But I still had some work to do. There were going to be consequences for both Beth and her lover. Nothing terribly drastic, but consequences nonetheless. The first thing I did was call the

motor vehicle department to inquire about buying a pickup truck. I'd lost the owner's phone number, but I had the license plate number as well as the make, model, and color of the truck. The friendly woman on the other end of the line cheerfully gave me the man's name and address. My next move was to call a friend of mine who was a lawyer and get the name of the best divorce attorney in town. I called that worthy, a lady as it happened, and scheduled an appointment for 1:00 that afternoon. I showered, then went down to

the lobby for a very light breakfast before heading to the bank. I had two certificates of deposit that I had bought a number of years earlier. I cashed those in, withdrew half of the money from our joint savings account, and half of what little there was in the checking account. I put most of the money into a new checking account that I opened in my name only, along with a bank debit card. I walked out with a little over $4,000 in Travelers' checks. I spent the next few minutes calling credit card companies to cancel all

but one of my cards and have the accounts put in my name only. I also paid off the balances on each of those cards. The one I generously left for Beth, I didn't bother paying off. Let her worry about that one. Next, I went to a branch of the public library where I bought some computer time. I took the four images I'd taken on my cell phone, downloaded them onto an email address I had, and printed out two copies of each one. I have to admit they were very clear and explicit. Then I looked up

information on the fellow who'd been with my wife the previous afternoon, one Clark Slater. I found out he was married, so I jotted down his wife's name. I then put a copy of the pictures with a note attached, letting her know where I could be reached for more information, into an envelope with her name and address on it. I went to the post office, bought some stamps, and mailed it to her. Then it was time for my appointment with Grace Shaw, the attorney. I told her what I'd done and what my plans were, and she

just nodded her head when I showed her the pictures. Her first question, however, was one of caution. "Divorce seems like a pretty drastic step on such short notice," she said. "Are you sure you don't want to try to work it out?" "What's there to work out?" I said. "My wife has a lover, and I don't want to stand in the way of true love. I have some places I want to go and some things I want to do with my life, and staying here with a cheating wife isn't part of those plans." In the end,

I agreed to a legal separation for 90 days. The divorce papers were drawn up, and if after 3 months I was still determined to end my marriage, then the papers would be filed, and Beth would be served. "Now, if you go forward with the divorce, what sort of settlement do you want?" Grace asked. "What sort of settlement do you want? I've already taken half of the liquid cash in our bank," I said. "She's got a 403b that she's paying into from her work. She can keep that, but she also doesn't get any of my 401k.

Either she can keep the house. The mortgage is in her name anyway, and I don't want it. If she does sell it though, I want half of all proceeds from the sale." "Okay, Mr. Thornhill, I guess that about covers it," Grace said. "I'll look forward to hearing from you in about 3 months." My last stop was to the office, but not to work. I walked into the human resources department and asked about what would be involved in taking early retirement. Had 26 years with the company, so I had a good bit of retirement built up.

I was told I could begin drawing on my retirement pension when I turned 60, which was 12 years away. I frowned at that but brightened when I asked about cashing in my 401k. Of course, the lady strongly discouraged that because of the hefty tax penalty I'd have to pay. Nevertheless, if I wanted, I could get an immediate cash out of approximately $65,000. I thanked the lady and headed back to my motel. I was tired, and after fixing another pot of chicken soup, I went to bed and slept for nearly 7 hours. It was after midnight

when I awoke, and I knew I now faced the hardest part of my day - going back to the house and collecting my things. Beth was supposed to be at work, but I wasn't sure if she'd actually gone in. As it turned out, she hadn't. Beth was asleep when I slipped in quietly, and the house was silent. Apparently, Laura was so concerned about my whereabouts that she'd gone out, like she always did on Friday nights. I wondered if the kids would even miss me when I was gone. Probably not. The first thing I did was

get what I needed out of the garage - tools, camping gear, and other assorted useful items. I went into the little office area and got my laptop. I plugged it in and downloaded some files from my home PC onto the laptop, then carried it to my vehicle. I had a couple of boxes with me that I loaded with CDs, a portable player, a lot of books, and some mementos that meant something to me, including a few pictures, though none of Beth. After I loaded that stuff into my vehicle, I got some suitcases out and walked

softly into my former bedroom. I was about halfway finished with packing when I heard a small gasp behind me, and then Beth's voice. "Peter, where have you been?" she said. "I've been worried sick about you." "Have you now?" I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. "What are you doing, Beth?" she said. "What's it look like I'm doing? Packing," I answered sarcastically. "Packing?" Beth said in a trembling voice. "Give that girl a gold star for brilliance," I said. "Peter, I'm so sorry," she began, when I stopped her. "I said Beth, I don't

want to hear your excuses or your apologies. It really doesn't matter why, or how, or even who, although I do know that much. You want to love someone else? Fine, I'm letting you, but I don't love him. I don't want him," she began. "I love you. I don't want him. I want you." "Could have fooled me," I said in an acidic tone. "It sounded to me like you wanted him pretty badly yesterday afternoon." Beth just buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I looked at her evenly. Whatever brief flash of anger I'd had was

gone, replaced by, I'm not sure, pity? No, not that. Disdain? Maybe a little. Disgust? Yeah, a bit. But mainly, I realized that the biggest thing I was feeling was emptiness. I realized in that moment that I didn't have any feelings for her whatsoever. I just didn't care anymore. I finished packing and let her sob into her pillow. It wasn't until I started up the bedroom door with the suitcases that she jumped off the bed and tried to stop me. "Wait," Beth cried, "don't leave me, Pete, please. Can't we work this out, please? I'm sorry. It

wasn't anything. It was just sex." I just stared at her silently as I carefully extricated myself from her clinging arms and walked to the front of the house. Beth followed me, sobbing hysterically. I pointed out the notice of legal separation sitting on the kitchen table among the dirty remnants of that night's pizza dinner. "I'll be back in 3 months, mid-December," I said. "If I'm still thinking then like I am now, I'm following through on a divorce. I will let you know generally where I am, but I'm leaving, and I'm not sure yet where I'm going

to be. Goodbye, Beth. I'll see you around, Pete." "No," Beth cried as I walked up the front door with my suitcases. I didn't look back as I climbed into my vehicle and headed back across town to my motel room. The next day was Saturday, so I slept in. When I got going, I packed up what I had in the motel room and checked out. At $85 a night, the motel was a little steep, and there was a place near my office that catered to visiting business people. They had long-term rates that were considerably cheaper than

the average motel. For approximately $45 a night, I rented a clean room for 2 weeks that had a nice little kitchenette, internet cable access, and a large television with pay-per-view porn movies if I was so inclined. I did sample the sexy worst being offered on the TV, but mostly I kicked back and indulged in football all weekend, doing absolutely nothing else. Then I went to work the next Monday morning. The first thing I did was walk into my boss's office and hand him my letter of resignation, effective in two weeks. Needless to say, everyone at

the office was stunned. I'd been there so long and in the same job that I guess I'd become part of the landscape. My boss, for one, was in a panic. He spent the whole two weeks trying to talk me out of retiring. But I was adamant. On Tuesday of the first week, I got a call from my daughter. It was a... Rather enlightening conversation. "Daddy, why are you leaving us?" Laura asked. "You'll have to ask your mother that," I replied. "She said to ask you," Laura said. "Okay," I said. "Thursday afternoon, I caught her in

bed with some other man. I was sick with the flu, took off work early, and there she was. I got the pictures to prove it." "Wow," Laura said. "I didn't think she had it in her." "Well, that explains why she's been so weepy, Daddy. She's a basket case. She just sits around crying and cursing herself. You know she called in sick all three days this weekend. Look, tell your mother to get a grip on herself," I said through clenched teeth. "If she thinks she can guilt trip me into coming back to her, she's very mistaken.

I've already put in for my retirement and a week from Saturday, I'm out of here. After that, what she does, what you do, and what your derck brother does are none of my concern." "Well, I love you too, Dad," Laura cried. "Hey, you never gave a flying fig about me before. Now, why should you start now?" I said. "You're just afraid the gravy train's fixing to roll out of the station." "That's not true," Laura said a little pensively. "I need you. You're the only one in this house with any sense, and I don't know what's

going to happen without you." "Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," I said. "Look, Laura, I'm sorry about what I said. That was mean of me. I'll be in touch, and I'll be home for Christmas, okay?" "I love you, really," she said. "I know, Daddy," she said with a sniffle. "I love you too." Jason never did call. I had a pretty busy two weeks. Beth tried to call any number of times, but after I hung up on her a few times, she got the message that I didn't want to talk to her. Her friends from work tried

to get me to at least see her, but I refused and I said so in pretty harsh terms. It turns out Clark Slater was a nurse up in the unit where Beth worked, and they'd been seeing each other for about six months. Most everyone I talked to said they thought he was the only one she'd stepped out on me with, but they didn't know for sure. I very pointedly told all of them how much I appreciated them telling me what my wife was doing behind my back. They didn't have much to say after that. I

got a call in the middle of the first week from Clark Slater's wife. Apparently, Beth wasn't the first nurse, married or otherwise, he'd been able to tap, but Beth was going to be the last, at least while he was her husband. I had finally given her the solid proof she needed to show him the door. Funny, but I never heard from Clark either about Beth or his ruined tires. I had an awful lot to do before I left my work behind. I had to train someone who could handle my job until they hired a full-time

replacement. I had to get my 12-year-old vehicle serviced. I had to scout around for a broker who could set up my 401k in a private account, and I had to get with HR about my severance pay and cashing in my remaining sick time. I spent most of my downtime watching TV, fooling around on my laptop, or shopping for things I would need when I left town. I also visited a few of my friends, all of whom expressed their disbelief that Beth really would cheat on me. All too soon, the second Friday arrived, my last day

of work, and with it came a little sense of regret. I'd put in 26 years at that company, and I'd made a lot of friends there. At lunch that day, my boss called our department together, and we had a little retirement party. That's when I finally lost my composure. I was trying to give a thank you speech when I suddenly broke down and cried, the first time I cried over anything in years. I wept both because I was leaving and because of the circumstances that had driven me to my decision to retire. I had kept

myself so busy over the previous two weeks that I hadn't given myself a chance to let out the emotions over Beth's cheating, and seeing my colleagues gathered in my honor was just too much for me to overcome. But I got over it pretty quickly, especially when Marcy Glover came over to me and invited me to an after-work gathering with a few of them at Chile. Of course, I said yes, even though I made it clear that I don't drink. Marcy was a fellow computer geek, but she was a damn good-looking geek. She was in her

early 30s, a tall blonde divo with a 10-year-old daughter who was spending the weekend with her father. As she told me that, she gave me a very smokey look. I'll admit that kind of confused me. I mean, I'm not badly looking. In fact, I look considerably younger than my years. But a stud muffin I'm not, or at least I didn't think I was. I'm a little shorter than average, about 5' 9", and I wear glasses. I have a little bit of a belly, and while I'm no weakling, I'm no fitness freak either. But I was

about to find out that I had more sex appeal than I'd ever imagined. There was a group of seven, three women and two men besides Marcy and myself, and for once in my life, I was the man of the hour. We sat for several hours, drinking beer (well, I had tea) and told stories about the plant, the town, and each other. In the midst of the festivities, we also took time to have dinner. As the night wore on, I was sitting next to Marcy, and it became rather obvious that she was coming onto me. She

was sitting real close, putting her hand on my thigh or on my arm. I couldn't decide whether she was just doing that because she was drunk or whether she was serious. Finally, about 9:00, we started drifting our separate ways. I wanted to get an early start the next day and got up to leave. Then I looked over at Marcy and saw that she really shouldn't drive home, so I offered her a ride. After getting hugs and handshakes wishing me well, I walked Marcy out to my car. When we got in, she moved in real close

to me, put her hand on my thigh, and gave me a penetrating look. "I'm really not all that drunk," Marcy said. "I just wanted you to give me a ride, and not home either. So where do you want me to take you?" I said deliberately playing dumb, "Take me to your motel", she said, and she pulled my face around and kissed me hard and deep. "Marcy, you don't have to do this," I said when we broke apart. "I mean, yeah, I'm lonely, but I don't want any sympathy." "Sympathy's got nothing to do with it," she

said. "Pete, I've had the hots for you ever since I started working there, and I've finally got a chance. I'm not passing it up." "You've had the hots for me?" I said. "Come on, Marcy, look at me. I'm a fat, gray-haired old man." "In the first place, you're not fat," she said. "In the second place, your hair makes you look sexy. In the third place, you're very good-looking. And in the fourth place, you're one of the nicest men I know. You're one of the few men in that building who's never made a pass at me,

or any of the other gals, for that matter. Trust me, we've noticed. You've always been a gentleman." "I've always been a married gentleman," I said with just a trace of bitterness. "Look, you're going off tomorrow and you deserve some TLC before you go," Marcy said. "Now, are you going to take me back to your motel and screw me or not?" I laughed then and started up my vehicle. "The truth is, I'd had many fantasies about Marcy Glover, but I always figured she was out of my league. Besides, I was a married man who believed in

fidelity. Technically, I guess I was still married, but I was already legally separated, and in my heart I knew my marriage was over. Marcy Glover was offering me her body, and I'd be damned if I was going to pass it up." As soon as the door to my room closed, we were instantly drawn to each other, kissing passionately, our hands exploring one another. It wasn't long before I found myself admiring Marcy's slender figure as she sat back on the bed. Her presence was captivating. I was ready for the moment. It had been over a week

since I had any real release, so I was eager for what was to come. This experience felt different though. Marcy was much more engaged than I had been used to. At least, in my previous experiences, we held each other close, moving together in harmony, each of us focused on the other's pleasure. I could see the anticipation building on Marcy's face as she approached another peak of satisfaction. I leaned back on the bed, watching as Marcy sat up and carefully adjusted herself for what was to come next. "Thanks," I said. "Beth would never let me do

that. She thought it was demeaning." "I can see where some women might think that," Marcy said. "Personally, I love it." We lay back on the bed and rested. Then I made love to her again, this time a little more leisurely. After that, we fell asleep together. We made love one final time with the light of dawn filtering through the drapes. Then, we got up, showered, and dressed. Marcy helped me pack. Then I checked out and drove her back to where her car was parked. Before she left, she gave me a very soft kiss and then

stared into my eyes. "Pete, all I can say is your wife's an idiot," she said. "She doesn't know what she's thrown away." "Well, I guess sometimes you get used to someone and get in a rut," I said. "I probably let things slide too much from my side. You know how it goes." "Yeah, I guess I do," Marcy said. "Pete, I hope you find what you're looking for, but if you ever decide to come back here for any length of time, look me up. I guarantee I'll treat you a hell of a lot better than Beth

did." "Thanks, Marcy," I said. "I'll stay in touch. You never know what's going to happen. You take care, okay?" "You too," she said. "You be careful with that." I was off. I put my vehicle on the Interstate, headed west, and didn't look back. I was off alone to travel the country with no plans, no itinerary, no agenda. I had some places out west I wanted to see, some things I wanted to do, but I had no particular schedule. I would go wherever my nose led me. It was something I'd wanted to do for years but

had never been able to do. Either I couldn't afford it, I had family concerns, or work concerns. Now, I had none of those things holding me back. My first destination, however, was my old hometown. I wanted to spend a few days with my folks, who were starting to get on in years. And I also wanted to see some old... Friends, I ended up seeing one I hadn't counted on, and it was a delightful experience. My parents were disappointed to hear that Beth and I were splitting up, but my mom also said she wasn't surprised. She

just hasn't seemed very happy the last few times you've been here. Mom said, "the following Monday I was in the supermarket picking up some supplies for my trip when I heard my name being called." I looked around, and a big smile creased my face as I saw a blast from my past. It was Dolores Valdez, a curvy woman I went to school with. She was actually a year behind me, but we always seem to have a class or two together every year, and we got to be friendly. At the time, Dolores was a hot number

who was a little too fast for me. But time had slowed her down a bit. She had learned the hard way that the fast life wasn't always the good life. But time had still been generous to her because she was still a stone beauty. If anything, age had made her better looking than when she was in high school, softening her features and adding a little padding in strategic places. She was a little shorter than average with thick dark hair and expressive brown eyes. Of course, her figure was still sexy. She had moved back to town

after divorcing her second husband and was an assistant manager at the store. She lived alone in a small house in a quiet neighborhood not far from her daughter's family. We chatted for a few minutes, catching up on our lives. When I told her I was divorcing my wife, her eyes lit up. "I'm off tomorrow," she said in an inviting tone, "how would you like to have dinner with me?" "I'd love to," I said. "Any place in particular?" "How about my place?" she said. "It's been a while since I fixed dinner for a man, especially an

old friend like you." I arrived at Dolores's place about 7 the next night to find her dressed in a tight red dress with spaghetti straps and her face quite tastefully made up. My younger brother, who lives nearby, had given me a Viagra pill when I told him who I was seeing. He said I was going to need it, and it looked like he was right. I entered her small but tidy little house and was greeted by the aroma of enchiladas cooking in the oven and other assorted Mexican treats being prepared for dinner. I was about

to discover that Dolores was a terrific cook, but I also learned that she was a skilled conversationalist. While waiting for dinner to finish cooking, we sat in her living room real close and got caught up with each other's lives. She was very understanding about what had happened to me and also about what had happened to Beth. Dolores had wrecked her first marriage by cheating, but her second marriage had fallen apart because her husband was cheating. So she was able to give me insights from both sides of the fence. It didn't make me feel any better

about it, but it did help. Dinner was something special. Enchiladas, tostadas, rice, and the best flan I'd ever tasted in my life. "How do you stay as slim as you do when you cook like this?" I asked as I pushed my bloated belly away from the table. "Oh, I only cook like this on special occasions," Dolores said with a laugh. "If I ate like this every day, I'd be as wide as I am tall." We retired to the front room then and sat real close on the couch again. We talked for a bit, getting around

to why she'd invited me over that night. "Because I wanted to do something I never got a chance to do when we were in high school," she said. "You were always so nice, so cute, so sexy. But I knew I could never have you then. Mama and Papa wouldn't have approved of me dating a white boy. You know, it's very ironic, very sad. They had no problem with me being with all these cholos and gang bangers as long as they were Mexican. But a nice white boy, forget it." "But you don't have that problem now,

do you?" I said as I brought my face real close to hers. We kissed then, and I lost myself in her full lips and active tongue. Dolores was acting like a hungry woman, a woman who hadn't had any in a while, which amused me. She got a little tear when I asked her how long it had been since she had a man. "Too long," she said. "When I came back here, I made a vow that I wasn't going to let my past trip me into stupid relationships. But memories die hard in a small town. If

I had $5 for every time I've been propositioned in the past year by somebody I went to school with, I wouldn't have to work. That's why this is so special for me. You never looked down on me back in the old days, and you'd have never made an improper advance if I hadn't invited you here." "I know you wouldn't," I said with a chuckle. "Believe me, Dolores, I had a lot of fantasies in high school imagining myself with you. For some reason, that just melted her. She whispered something in Spanish and then was all over

me, kissing me deeply and working her hands over my body. She quickly got my sweater off, and the t-shirt I had under it, then attacked my pants. In no time at all, I found myself on her sofa, and Dolores was standing in front of me, unzipping her dress as it slipped. The floor. I couldn't help but admire her. The contrast between her dark hair and her pale skin was striking, especially with the garter belt, hosiery, and heels she still wore. I reached up gently, touching her as she leaned in to kiss me with urgency. "I

want you," she said with desire, and I certainly wasn't going to disagree. I wanted her too. Hearing such words from a woman like Dolores, especially after my experience with Marcy, gave me a significant boost in confidence, reaffirming that I still had plenty to offer. Dolores kissed me passionately and whispered in my ear, expressing her desire for me to be close to her. Never let it be said that I don't give a hot woman what she wants. When I was satisfied, I lifted myself up, then collapsed onto her back, and laughed in utter contentment. That moment

was the first time I thought about thanking Clark Slater for setting the events in motion that had led me to that point. Thanks to Clark and his tawdry affair with my wife, I was free from my comfortable but boring life in a nowhere town, an increasingly loveless marriage, a chaotic family life in a decaying house, and a job that had long ceased to challenge me in a large corporation where I was lost in the shuffle. I was free to go anywhere, do anything, and be with anyone I wanted. I couldn't have done that with a

clear conscience had I not caught my wife and her lover in the act of adultery. After catching our breath, Dolores and I retired to her oversized bathtub, one of the few extravagances she'd indulged in since returning to town, where we spent a long time bathing each other and kissing. We ended up making love again right there in the bathtub, then moved to her bed and made love once more before we finally passed out from well-sated exhaustion. The next day, I spent time with my family, then I set out in earnest the following day. As I

drove, I reflected that it had been exactly 3 weeks since I'd caught Beth and Clark, three weeks that had completely changed my life. This trip was the first step in living my new life. Over the next 3 months, I wandered the Western half of the country, seeing places I had only read about. My first stop was Mount Rushmore, followed by a couple of days exploring the sight of the Battle of Little Big Horn. I walked the grounds and communed with the ghosts of Custer and the Seventh Cavalry, as well as Crazy Horse and his warriors.

After that, I drove to Jackson Hole and camped out for a week and a half while touring Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons. I had to laugh when I got my first look at the Tetons, thinking that the French who named them must have been awfully hard up to see women's breasts in those jagged peaks. From there, I drove up to spend some time in northern Idaho, camping on the banks of Lake Pend Oreille. I had been there once before as a teenager at a Boy Scout Jamboree in 1969. In fact, my fellow Scouts and I

were among the few Americans who didn't see the first moon landing because we were camped well away from televisions. While there, I fished the lake and the trails, enjoying the cool mountains of the northern Rockies. When I woke one morning in late October to 3 inches of snow on the ground, I knew it was time to move on to more temperate climates. I went to Seattle, then down the Pacific coast through Oregon to spend some time in Napa Valley. Yes, I did sample some of the excellent wine the area produces before heading to Yuse for

several days. After that, I visited an aging aunt and uncle in the Los Angeles area and achieved a long-held desire to see Southern Cal play UCLA in the Rose Bowl, one of the truly big rivalries in college football at one of the most historic stadiums in the country. I also spent a day at the beach in Venice, getting an eyeful of all the California hard bodies that hang out there wearing very little. While in a gift shop across the street from the beach, I saw a postcard and got the wicked idea of sending one to

my wife and her lover. It showed four scantily-clad women with the heading that read, "Greetings from Venice Beach." I wrote a note on each one, thanking them for screwing around on me so I could take this trip, then sent one to the house for Beth and one to the hospital for Clark. That was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and it was time for me to get to where I really wanted to go. My best friend from high school lived in Durango, Colorado, a beautiful mountain town not far from the Four Corners. He and his wife had

started a small business and needed someone to help with computer marketing and other cyber-related tasks. It was perfect for me. He owned a small house that he'd been using as a rental property where I could stay, and he offered a flexible work schedule that would allow me the freedom to go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I had spent a lot of spare time on the road doing a lot of writing and had the makings of a pretty good book. I simply wrote about myself, my trip, and why I was doing it, along with other

pertinent reflections. Once I completed my business with Beth and settled in Colorado, I'd have time to polish my work. It was all about the changes in a middle-aged life as a result of one disastrous event. I didn't know it that Monday when I headed. East toward Colorado, but my life was about to change again in a completely unexpected way. I had been in Durango a couple of days when Chris, my friend Kyle's wife, announced that she had invited a friend of hers over to share Thanksgiving dinner with us. This woman lived alone, Chris said, and

didn't socialize much. But Chris hated the thought of someone being alone on Thanksgiving, so she had extended the invitation, and it had been accepted. Funny how life pivots on little decisions like that. Maybe I would have met more in McDermitt anyway once I moved to Durango, but who knows what might have happened in the interim? Perhaps she'd have decided to move on, or maybe someone else would have swooped in and swept her off her feet. I don't know. All I do know is that when Moren walked through the door of Kyle and Chris's house, my

stomach did a shimmy, and before the day was out, I was determined to make her mine. Moren was a woman in her mid-30s, quite tall at nearly 6 feet, slender but not bony. She had a pale complexion peppered with freckles, flaming red hair cut very short, and soft green eyes that were an enchanting blend of mischief and sadness. When she spoke, it sounded like a symphony of leprechauns. Yes, she was a full-blooded native of Ireland who had come to the states with an Irish dance troop, one of those River dance groups, and had settled in

Denver. She had moved to Durango about a year earlier after breaking off an engagement 2 days before the wedding. It seemed she had caught her groom-to-be at his bachelor party in the act of screwing a stripper who had been hired for the night. She hadn't intended to crash his party, but she and a couple of her girlfriends had been on their way to breakfast after their own party when she happened to pass a strip club and saw her fiance and his group coming out, one of the girls from the club wrapped around her betrothed. She

decided to follow them to see what happened. It had been an emotionally scarring event and one more blow in a life that had seen plenty of them. Her father had been an alcoholic who beat her mother until they fled him when Moren was 15. After he started beating on her, she said her father stalked them relentlessly until the police finally stepped in, and he was charged and convicted of spousal abuse. She had subsequently been assaulted while on holiday in London when she was 22 and had her heart broken several times after that, culminating in her

fiance's cheating. I think the reason we hit it off so well was because we both understood what cheating was all about. Over the previous weeks of traveling, I had thought a lot about Beth and what she had done, and I couldn't get past the inconsistency of her protestations of love for me with the image of her in bed with another man. She had cheated on me in our marriage, and I didn't have a clue as to why. I had been telling myself all along that I didn't care, but that wasn't entirely true. I did care.

I wanted to know what had happened to the love we'd once shared and why Beth felt she was entitled to take a lover on the side knowing how I felt about fidelity. I did keep up with what was going on back home, mostly through emails to him from Laura who seemed to have decided at this late date to repair a relationship. She was plainly worried about Jason, who had indeed lost his job and was begging Beth to let him move back in. I spoke to Beth a couple of times briefly, but whenever she started to

get weepy or tried to apologize, I cut her off. I did promise her that I would sit down and listen to her when I got back. It wasn't going to change anything, but I wanted to hear what she had to say. Nothing was going to change my mind. By then, I had made my decision on what I wanted, and I wanted to live in Durango. As a result, I spent three weeks getting settled in my new home and helping Kyle and Chris with their business. I was also spending a lot of time with Moren. We

talked long and deep on Thanksgiving night about everything, to Chris's amazement and delight. When I walked with her out to her car, we looked at each other and kissed. There wasn't a lot of passion in it, but there was a lot of promise. Over the 3 weeks I was there before returning home, or rather, my soon-to-be former home, we dated probably a dozen times and grew more intimate. I knew I had to be careful because of Moren's past. She had been hurt badly by men and was wary of being hurt again. But the more I

got to know her, the more I realized that despite her history, she was a woman with a hot-blooded nature. She was a dynamite kisser with lips that were just full enough to enjoy and a tongue that knew what it was doing. Waiting was excruciating because the more time I spent with Moren, the more I wanted her. She was so sexy, so sensual, and yes, so needy. But I understood her need to be cautious and respected her desire to take it slow. My patience was rewarded the weekend before I was scheduled to head back to finish

my business with Beth. Kyle and Chris wanted me to get a real taste of Colorado, so they planned a 4-day ski trip. There's a nice ski resort right outside Durango, and Purgatory is really close, but they wanted me to. Enjoy the whole ski experience! They pulled some strings with a friend of theirs in the real estate business who helped us get a nice two-bedroom condo and to ride about 70 M away. I was having dinner with Moren one night a few days before we were to leave when the subject of the trip came up, and

she asked what she should bring. I just kind of stared at her, and she gave me a Mona Lisa smile. "You knew I was going, didn't you?" she said. "I was hoping, but I didn't know if it was my place to invite you or not," I said. "You know the condo only has two bedrooms, and that's a problem," she said, smiling a little wider. "Are you sure?" I said, taking her hands and looking deep into her eyes. "Very sure," she said. "I knew you were the one I'd been looking for all my life. The first

time I met you, I knew. You know in your heart you're a good man, Pete, and you deserve to be happy. I think I can make you happy." Did she ever! We drove up to Toride on a cold, clear Thursday morning. The early winter snows had been heavy in the High Country, so we figured the skiing would be good - and it was. I had been skiing once before, a long time ago when a group of us from college spent a week at Vil. Moren had been skiing once before as well, the previous season, with

Kyle and Chris. Despite that limited experience, Moren and I took the one-day ski school that was recommended before we tackled the slopes on our own. Once we'd been taught the basics, she and I had a blast going up and down the mountain. We prudently stayed away from the black slopes, the expert trails, but we did try a few of the blue trails, the intermediate slopes, and found we could handle them with a fair bit of skill. It was bracing to spend time on the mountain with a woman I had come to care about quite intensely.

I wasn't sure yet if I was in love or if she was in love with me, but we liked each other a lot and were comfortable in each other's company. We ended that first day sore and tired, but it was the good kind of soreness and the pleasant tiredness that comes from having a lot of fun. The four of us ended up at a nice, modestly priced restaurant for our post-ski dinner, and we toasted our rapidly cementing partnership in every sense of the word. When we got back to the condo, I showered and then sat

back on the large waterbed with a book I'd been reading while Moren took a long bath. I was toying with the idea of joining her but decided not to be pushy. I wanted her to make the first move. I'm glad I did. She came into the bedroom smelling like peach blossoms, clad in a long, moderately heavy robe. She stood just inside the door and smiled at me. Slowly, she undid the sash of the robe and let the sides fall open. "See anything you like?" she said, her soft Irish brogue sounding ever so sexy. I just

nodded as I feasted my eyes on Moren's tall, trim body. I rolled off the bed and approached her, my hands gently caressing her as we came together, sharing a slow, smoldering kiss that grew in intensity. It felt like we were in a dream as I softly ran my hands over her body while she removed my T-shirt and lowered my pants. We moved to the bed and lay down, our bodies naturally coming together. Our hands found each other, and unlike my previous encounters, there was no urgency, just a sense that we had all the time in

the world to explore and cherish each other. We kissed again, and this time when we pulled apart, Moren gently pushed me onto my back and began a slow, sensual journey down my neck to my chest. Her touch was so deliberate, so intimate that it drove me to the edge. I wanted to love this woman completely. We kissed again, this time with more passion. I gently rolled her onto her back, the sight of Moren McDermid waiting expectantly is something I'll never forget. She lay back on the bed, her eyes filled with desire as I began to

make love to her. I took my time, wanting us to reach that moment together. We clung to each other, kissing wildly, and it felt like we would never stop. But eventually we did, and we slumped together in contented exhaustion, letting out a collective sigh. Moren and I laughed softly, contentedly, as we slowly drifted down from the orgasmic clouds. We held each other and slowly drifted off to sleep, spending the first of what I hoped would be thousands of nights together. The whole trip went like that. We tried just about every non-black slope on the mountain,

explored the shops and cafes of downtown Toride, and made love every night after we got back to the condo. By the time we returned to Durango, we knew it was love. On the Tuesday before Christmas, I packed my SUV with a few suitcases and presents for everyone, then headed back East for a few weeks. I went by way of my folks' house but didn't linger. I did visit Dolores to give her a present, but I didn't sleep with her. I told her I'd found someone in Colorado that I wanted to commit to, and she smiled

as she said she understood. "I'd have expected nothing less from you," she said. Marcy Glover was much the same way when I got back to town and called her up for dinner. I knew it wouldn't take. "Long for someone to find you," she said. "You're too good a man to stay single very long. I'm glad you're happy. I did not stay at the house when I went back; it wasn't home anymore, and I didn't want to give Beth any illusions. I did visit quite a bit, and it was cordial enough, but she and I avoided

the elephant in the room until after Christmas. It actually wasn't a bad Christmas. Jason had convinced Beth to let him move back home, but she finally grew a backbone where he was concerned. He could stay, but he had to pull his weight around the house. He'd come dangerously close to some serious drug trouble when he was living with his buddies, and apparently, it had scared some sense into him because he was talking seriously about entering a rehab program. Laura had really taken my departure as a warning shot. She ditched the scuzzy boyfriend and was taking

more interest in school. Figuring out, as I had told her repeatedly in our email exchanges, that without it at least a high school diploma, her odds of getting anywhere in life were about nil. She had gotten a part-time job at a youth-oriented novelty shop in the mall, where her quirky dress and hipster attitude were put to good use. The day after Christmas, Laura was at work, and I gave Jason $50 and told him to go have fun at the mall. Beth and I had serious business to discuss and needed to be alone. I brought the

divorce petition that I'd gotten from Grace Shaw and set it on the coffee table in the front room. Beth just stared at it with sad eyes brimming with tears. 'I guess you've made your decision,' she said. 'I have,' I replied. 'But I think I deserve some answers first. Why did you cheat on me, Beth? I know we had problems in our marriage, but if you'd been open about it, we might have worked through those problems.' 'I don't know,' she said. 'I guess I expected you to fight for me, fight for our marriage. If there was

a competitor for my affections, I thought you'd do what you had to do. It just went too far. I was drinking a lot during that time, but that's no excuse. I let it happen, thinking that I could, I don't know, have this little fling and get that itch out of my system. I really didn't think you'd give up on us that easily.' 'What was there to fight for?' I said softly. 'You were bitching all the time. Jason was one step away from jail. Laura was a teenage mother waiting to happen. The house was a wreck.

Work was boring. And then you started cheating on me. Honestly, what was there to fight for? And that still doesn't answer the question of why you decided to screw another man behind my back and then kept unscrewing him for 6 months. That's something I just can't get my mind around.' 'A new experience,' Beth said. 'It was a jolt of excitement in a boring life. I guess I just needed something more. But Pete, you have to believe me, I've never stopped loving you. You were always the number one man in my life, and you always will

be.' 'I don't doubt that,' I said. 'Although I'm having some trouble believing you loved me when you were entertaining Clark. Especially when you were finding excuses not to have sex with me. I may have been the number one man in your life, like you say, but you were still paying a lot of attention to number two.' 'I'm so sorry about all of that,' she said in a very small voice. 'I guess I lost track of what was really important.' 'So do you hate me then?' 'No, of course not,' I said. 'We had 24 years together,

and a lot of them were good years. You're the mother of my children, bless their hearts, and I think in the main you're a decent person who got confused and made a costly mistake. No, I don't hate you, Beth. But I don't love you anymore. That died the day I walked in on you and your lover. Maybe we just drifted apart, and Clark saw an opening. Actually, I owe you my thanks. What you did provided the spark that allowed me to have a new life, doing things I always wanted to do in places I always

wanted to be.' 'Well, it certainly agrees with you,' she said. 'You look great. You do deserve to be happy, I guess. And I guess I deserve to be miserable, don't I?' I said as I watched Beth finally lose her composure. I didn't want to, but I went to her then and held her one last time, letting her cry. After she calmed down, she signed the divorce agreement. Since we were in a no-fault state and we were divorcing on the nebulous grounds of irreconcilable differences, the divorce would be final after 60 days. I stayed a couple

more days to pack up the rest of my things and to visit with the kids. I was still worried about Jason, but it looked like Laura was going to be all right. She had found her niche in retail sales and seemed to have gained a newfound respect for me. On the next-to-last day of the year, I said my final goodbyes and headed off to settle in Durango for good. That was 3 years ago. Kyle's business started to take off in that time, and I found a variety of tasks I was asked to perform quite stimulating.

I spent a lot of time polishing up my book, and when I had what I believed was a finished product, I started shopping it around to publishers. I had to endure a..." Half dozen rejections before I found one that liked it. The book received some nice reviews and managed to make the lower end of some bestseller lists. It's on its third printing and still sells modestly. I'm working on a second book, a novel about Kuster, and I have a computer full of odds and ends essays and ramblings that I may or may not ever get

published. It doesn't matter I'm expressing my creative side in a way I never did before. More and I fell deeper in love and 8 months after we met, we were married in a small ceremony in Durango. Lord came off for the wedding and she and Moren became friendly. Laura was promoted to manager of the store where she'd been working and seems to be doing well. A year ago, I was blessed with another child when Moren delivered a baby boy. You cannot fathom how much I appreciate a second chance at fatherhood. Beth hasn't remarried, although she

does date some. She's filled her life with working on seriously fixing up the house, which gives her something to occupy her time when she's not working. We stay friends and still talk occasionally, mostly about what to do with Jason. His commitment to sobriety didn't take and he fell deeper into the spell of drugs. He's currently incarcerated after being convicted of manufacturing meth for sale with his old roomies. Our relationship blows hot and cold, but at least we have one. There are those who say adultery is a devastating thing that destroys lives, and I guess in

one sense that may be true. It certainly destroyed my old life. But out of the bitter ashes of that cheating came a new, far better life for me. I'm living the life I always dreamed about when I was growing up, in a place where I always wanted to be. That would not have happened had I stayed married to Beth. She did me a favor when she started cheating on me, and as a result I was liberated to follow my own path. The best revenge is living well, and I'm living a pretty damn good life because

of my ex-wife and her lover. Thanks, guys. I needed that.