A Cheating Cliche -- Almost

"What other subject, Bryce?"

"Your affair with Denise."

"Where did you get that wild idea...."

I cut him off. "Stop Jim; I have you on DVD eating her out, fondling her tits, and fucking her ass tonight."

His eyes got wide; he shut up.

"Listen to what I have to say, Jim. While I am so very grateful to you I also am more angry than I ever have been in my life – more angry than at the Bagdad Brawl party," I said with steely resolve. I went ballistic at the Bagdad Brawl in college. I put two other guys in the hospital and Jim had to admit me to the hospital also. The "Bagdad Brawl" comment got his attention.

"I'll bet you haven't called Gabriella yet because you had to figure out how you could justify being at my house 9:30 at night."

"You're right," he mumbled, looking down.

"I have a way to prevent 'The Italian Tyrant,' as you so disrespectfully referred to her tonight after fucking my wife, from killing you."

He looked like a drowning man ready to grab anything to save his life.

"This is how it's going to play out. I called you from my trip panicked because I had forgotten an insurance payment. Denise didn't know where the valuation we had done was in my office, and I had a special safe with the papers in it. I gave you the combination and asked you to get them out and take care of them by fax or email before tomorrow morning. That's why you serendipitously arrived just as the lightning hit."

"You'll back me up on that story?" Jim incredulously asked.

"Yes. I'll call Gabriella as soon as we're done and I'll give her the story myself. You'll tell her that you can talk the insurance company into an extension given the circumstances."

"OK," he replied, as wide-eyed as his condition would allow.

"That way you're a hero not a fornicator."

He didn't respond to that, just looked down.

"After an initial appearance together for the benefit of the press I will not have any contact with you ever again. You will have someone else in your office handle the insurance fallout from the fire. Except for ten minutes with her, alone, once she regains consciousness, you will not, under any circumstances, talk to Denise until she has recovered fully from her injuries, likely six months. You will not return her calls if she calls you, you will not contact her in person, by email, or in any other way. Understood?"

Jim nodded, although more hesitantly than before.

"If you do have contact with Denise I will give Gabriella a copy of the DVD with your activities and words in my bedroom last night and tell her the whole truth. I wonder what your father-in-law would do with that little tidbit?" I rhetorically asked. "Tell me 'yes I understand, no contact with Denise until she's healed.'"

With a stammer indicating that he realized that he had no choice Jim repeated, "I understand that I shall have no contact with Denise until she's healed or Gabriella gets the DVD."

"At the end of six months, or when she's healed," I continued, "I will give Denise a choice. She can stay married to me and move with me at least a thousand miles away and never have contact with you again, or we get divorced and she can do whatever she wants including pursuing you and breaking up your marriage. So if you really do love her, like you said on the DVD, you still have a chance to have her. Understood?"

After a long pause and with the strangest look in his eye – one that I could not possibly interpret – Jim replied "I understand."

"Good; I'll call Gabriella."

"One last thing, Bryce," Jim said; "how did you get here so fast, I thought that you were in Casper.

"I was in Colorado Springs; I was watching you live and I was the one who called 911. If I hadn't you might very well have died from the fire where you fell unconscious on the front porch because the firemen may not have gotten to you fast enough to save you," I softly replied. Jim's eyes almost popped out of his head.

Things went as planned. I told Gabriella our story and she was at the hospital within twenty minutes hysterical with glee to be with her hero. The next afternoon the press ate the story up when Jim and I gave a joint press conference at the hospital entrance, with Gabriella and his daughters beaming at Jim's side. I laid it on thick about how grateful our family was that serendipity put Jim in the right place at the right time and how he "rose the occasion." I couldn't see his reaction but I'll bet that he didn't smile what I used the phrase "rose to the occasion."

Thankfully the morning of the press conference Denise had regained consciousness and was lucid, although she would be in the hospital another week or so before starting rehabilitation. Therefore after the press conference I took Jim aside.

"Denise is lucid," I told him. "You have ten minutes with her alone. Do NOT – I repeat NOT – tell her about the DVD and tell her that in view of what happened it will be a while before you see her again. Got it?"

"Got it," he glumly replied and then excused himself from his family. Jim returned about fifteen minutes later, still glum.

I folded my one man consulting corporation and Denise's one woman event planning company. I called each of my and her clients personally and explained the situation and thanked them for their business in the past. They all wished us well.

The house was totaled by the lightning, fire, and water from the rain and fire hoses. The only contents saved were photo albums and baby books in a sturdy metal filing cabinet in Denise's office, and all our important papers, and computer files which were on discs or other media, in two fire proof safes in my office. No clothes, furniture, or art work survived.

Jim had done an excellent job insuring us and one of his partners at the insurance agency was a real zealot on our behalf. With the insurance payouts for the house, personal property, and business losses (we got a full year proceeds for each of our businesses), and the sale of our lot since we were never going to rebuild, we got well over a million dollars, tax free or after tax.

On a short term lease we rented a very nice furnished house on a park with all sorts of playground equipment and a large indoor swimming pool. I spent virtually all my waking time either helping Denise rehabilitate or taking care of the kids or both at the same time. Denise's Mom, her sister, and my sister, each stayed with us for about a week on two separate occasions to help out.

Denise could barely walk when she got out of the hospital and there were gaps in her memory. Most of the nerve damage was from her waist down, although other parts suffered too.

The many, many therapy sessions with professionals were almost 100% covered by the excellent health insurance Jim had secured for us. I took Denise to the pool almost every day since swimming was very helpful in her recovery, and we took the kids with us two days a week for swimming and diving lessons.

Being with Denise all of the time and tending to her needs and getting her truly appreciative hugs, kisses, and words in return, made me remember as vividly as possible that her nature and personality, as much as her physical beauty, was why I had fallen in love with her.

I know that Denise tried to call Jim on several occasions but he never answered or returned her calls. On many occasions when we were alone she said "Bryce we need to talk about that night," but each time I held her face in my hands, kissed her lips, and said "I promise we'll talk as long as you like once you're healed, but not until then. The doctors say that you could regress."

Of course the doctors said no such thing, and she likely knew that, but didn't push it.

Our friends, including Gabriella who often brought us home-made treats and whose kids played with ours, were very supportive too. Gabriella thought it odd that Jim never accompanied them but he always had a reason and she didn't push it.

Denise's willpower, her recuperative powers, and all the loving labor I and everyone else put in, worked wonders. I like to think that my daily manipulation and sucking of her tits helped, as did the several blow jobs that she gave me. Whatever the reasons at the five month anniversary of the lightning strike we made love – gentle, heart-felt love. We repeated every second day after that until at six months and two days from the lightning strike she went in for what we hoped would be her final physical.

Denise insisted that I come into the doctor's examination room with her. After an examination with associated mental, coordination, and physical tests, lasting more than two hours, we got great news. "Except for some minor loss of strength and coordination in your legs, which might even come back over the next few years, you are completely back to normal," the doctor said with a big smile.

Denise's mother was watching the kids while we were at the doctor's office and of course was as thrilled as we were. Our whole family including my sister and her husband and daughter, and Sandy Moore and her husband, went out to celebrate. The celebration was even better when we got home and Denise pushed herself to her limit successfully trying to make me sexually satisfied.

While her mother was still at our rental house two days after our celebration I told Denise that I was taking the kids to see my parents until she came to a decision about something.

"About what?" she asked.

"I left you a letter on our bed. Read it whey we're on the plane," I replied. Then the kids and I kissed her goodbye.

Denise was starting to melt down as we left, realizing what the letter might be about. I didn't look back and encouraged the kids not to look back either. I texted Jim – my only contact with him since the press conference – telling him that he could talk to or see Denise if he wanted to.

My letter said:

"Dear Denise:

I'm sorry for putting this in the form of a letter but I don't have the intestinal fortitude to talk to you face-to-face at this juncture.

Now that you're well you have some choices to make.

I have accepted a job with a former client in Spokane, about an hour away from your parents' house, to work full time for them. The job pays about 60% of what I was making my last year of consulting but the benefits are good and there is virtually no business travel; plus we still have well over a million dollars in the bank.

I want you to come with me. I want you to tell me that you're coming with me, that you love me and only me, and that you want to remain my wife and will be faithful hereafter.

If you chose to come with me I will wipe the slate clean regarding your relationship with Jim. There is one caveat. You will never, under any circumstances, see or communicate with him again once we leave for Spokane.

If you don't want to come with me I will be hurt, but will understand. We'll file for divorce based upon irreconcilable differences and split everything 50-50. I will try for sole custody but will not sully your reputation in any way in doing so.

Aside from my gutlessness another reason for this letter is that I really want you to think about this for at least 48 hours. Please don't call me with your decision until 48 hours after you read this and after you've talked to Jim, but as soon as you make your decision after that please call and the three of us will come back immediately. You don't have to tell me your decision until I return to face you.

With hope and love, Bryce."

I was on pins and needles after just 24 hours. Thirty hours after the time that I thought she must have seen the letter she called.

"I know I wasn't supposed to call until 48 hours, but I had to," she said crying into the phone.

"Why?" I genuinely asked.

"Because I want you to know right now, not later," she sobbed into the phone, "that I desperately want to go with you and the boys to Spokane and to be your loving faithful wife forever. I love you and only you. I know that I have to seek your forgiveness and some explaining to do..."

I cut her off. "Explaining is not part of the deal. When we get to Spokane the slate is clean and any past indiscretions are not just forgiven but forgotten. Have you met with Jim?"

"Yes I have. We talked for two hours then kissed goodbye, never to see each other again."

"We'll be there on the next flight – I'll text the details," I replied then ran to tell my parents what was news to me but didn't make sense to them.

A smiling but sobbing Denise and her mother met us at the airport in the middle of the night about six hours after I terminated our phone call. That was three years ago. I've had the perfect wife and family life since then with two well-adjusted kids with their biological loving parents, and a completely loving household. Denise has completely recovered from the lightning strike and the sex with her is the most passionate and incredible ever in our relationship!

I think that my two instances of cheating – the last there ever will be – helped me come to a rational approach to the Jim-Denise problem. Every day I'm grateful that I approached the situation as I did because I could not stand the thought of losing Denise, but would never settle for a less than completely monogamous relationship.