A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Initially, we were just neighbors who had moved into a new subdivision around the same time. The six of us were about the same age. My wife Claudine was six months pregnant when we moved in and the couple across the street, Sal and Kerry had a two-year-old with one on the way. Ginny and Jeff completed our sextet when they moved in next door, with their one-year old daughter.

As you can imagine, over the years with all of the mom's having children of similar ages the girls became close friends and we guys were pretty tight also. Within five years there were seven children in our little village and with coaching, PTA, school functions, pool parties and the like we were almost one big family. The kids were all close also but even over the twenty years there had been no blooming romantic relationships among them

Now, at forty-nine, I was the oldest and at forty-two, Kerry was the youngest, everybody else fell somewhere in the middle. Ginny and Jeff had two kids off at college and their youngest son was a high school Junior. Kerry and Sal's twin girls were seniors in high school. Our oldest, Chelsea was a junior at Penn State and our son Devin had joined the Navy after high school, so we were now empty nesters.

All of the wives had eventually returned to the work force and, although when we moved in to the neighborhood we all struggled financially, like most young couples. Now, to varying degrees, we were all financially comfortble

Claudine is a nurse practitioner and works at a large medical association in the area. Kerry is a bookkeeper for a lumber supply house and Ginny opened her own florist shop after working for a small shop where the owners decided to retire. Just a slice of middle America, some Democrats, some Republicans, all of us were at least, nominally Christian, except for Sal and Kerry who attended Catholic mass regularly. The rest of us were, what I called, holy day Christians, going to services on Christmas, Easter and special occasions.

We all genuinely liked one another and enjoyed each other's company. We had learned over the years to avoid conversations regarding politics and religion, except in the most general of terms. It wasn't like we didn't all have other friends and acquaintances, both within the neighborhood and without but we were a close knit group. As time passed and the kids moved on there was less dependency on one another and we branched out into other personal relationships. It was something that evolved with the decreasing need for sharing the responsibility of PTA involvement, picking up kids for athletic events, school functions or helping one another with babysitting duties.

At some point we realized that we were drifting apart and although I don't know who suggested it we decided to get together the first and third Friday of every month, for poker night. We didn't always play poker, sometimes it was canasta. We tried Bridge but none of ever got the hang of it or had the enthusiasm to get good at it.

The women, being better organizers, varied the themes, there were international pot luck dinners, chili cook-offs, trivial pursuit, classic movie nights and even, the old standby -- charades.

No one ever drank to excess but none of us were "tea-totters either so whoever was hosting had an ample supply of wine, beer and liquor. As familiar as we had become with one another there was still, little or no flirting, aside from an off-color joke once in a while. Sex was not a topic of discussion unless it was a story about the latest escapade about a politician or celebrity.

The women were all still attractive, a few extra pounds here and there, but they all kept themselves fit and dressed to accentuate their assets without being provocative. Of course, I am biased, but my wife was the hottest of the group. At 5'4", 115 pounds with short auburn hair, green eyes, and 36C breasts, she was "girl next door" pretty. We had been married for almost twenty-six years and aside from the great sex, at least twice a week, I could count on one hand the number of serious arguments that we've had over the years.

No, our sex lives didn't dwindle, neither of us traveled overnight, everything was honky dory until a month ago when I visited a client for a quarterly audit. I am a private practice accountant, specializing in small to medium corporate accounts. Most of my clients have under ten million gross earnings and I visit their offices every three months to review their general ledgers, prepare state and federal tax forms as well as workman comp insurance reviews.

I was at the offices of Max Tolson, one of my oldest clients, and someone that I considered a friend. He and his late wife, Sylvia, had been to our house many times for parties and us to his.

Max was out of the office at a meeting when I arrived at his place of business and his bookkeeper, Louise, set me up in the conference room to begin my work. Max came back about one o'clock and being engrossed in my work, I hardly noticed when he took a seat across from me at the large conference table.

Max is a rotund, gregarious guy in his late sixties and I have always enjoyed his company. He has an irreverent attitude towards most things and especially politicians so our conversations usually included our contempt of just about every elected official, local, state and federal. When I realized that it was him sitting across from me, I looked up and smiled a greeting but he seemed sad and hesitant when he finally spoke:

"Charley, I am so sorry about you and Claudine, I thought you guys were as solid as a rock."

I looked at him quizzically. My curiosity was piqued but I was sure that whatever he thought he knew, was erroneous.

"So, what did you hear." I said with a smirk.

He looked embarrassed, when he continued:

"Shit, did I just step on my own dick, here?"

It was a rhetorical question but I replied:

"Max, what did you hear to make you think that we weren't solid?"

By the look on his face, I think if he had an ejector switch he would have propelled himself through the ceiling and out through the roof.

"Max, I said patiently, we've been friends for many years, what exactly did you hear and who did you hear it from?"

Finally, he let out a long sigh and asked:

Are you and Claudine okay, you're not separated— — — — getting divorced, or something"?

I just shook my head.

"God damn it, he yelled, me and my big fucking mouth. Listen Charley, forget I said anything, I'm an asshole, I probably got my names mixed up. I ain't getting any younger you know. Sometimes I go into a room and forget why the hell I went in there. I'll know it was to get something but I'll be fucked if I can remember what it was."

Max's repertoire of four letter words goes back to when he first started the business and got his hands dirty on a regular basis, but I knew he was stalling for time. Max wasn't still successful because he was stupid—————, or forgetful.

"Come on Max, don't bullshit me." I said a little more forcefully than I intended.

My initial amusement at his question was turning into something close to suspicion.

"Okay! Okay, it's probably nothing anyhow, he said dismissively with a wave of his hand. Actually, I didn't hear anything."

Before I could object to what was another stalling tactic, he continued:

"I've been having some trouble regulating my high blood pressure and my Doc changed my prescription and had me seeing him twice a week to monitor it. He is one of the Docs' who work in the same office as your wife."Son-of a -bitch, he said to no one as he looked away. Anyhow, the girl at the desk eventually calls my name and tells me to go to exam room 'D' and says the Doc will be in a minute."

"I'm a little hard of hearing but too proud to admit it but I was pretty sure she said 'D' but all of the doors were closed so when I got to the door marked 'D' I opened it slowly, to peek in before I entered. I didn't want to walk in on some poor bastard getting a gloved finger stuck up his ass."

"Anyhow, he sighed, resignedly, that's when I saw them, I mean saw Claudine and some guy with the same kind of those green pajamas everybody wears in hospitals and doctors' offices these days. I liked it when you knew who was who, doctors wore a necktie with a three quarter length white coat, had a stethoscope around his neck, nurses had starched white uniforms with a cap from their nursing school, nurses aids wore the pajamas and janitors looked like janitors. Now, with political correctness, you don't know who is probing your private parts."

He was stalling again and it was obvious by the look on his face that he didn't want to continue. My heart was pounding but as calmly as I could manage, I said:

"Max, it sounds like what you saw is not something I want to hear but I need to hear it. You opened this can of worms and there is no way to put the genie back in the bottle." Trying to coax a little levity, that I certainly wasn't feeling, I added:

"Max, I know you are uncomfortable but I promise not to shoot the messenger."

"Ah fuck, he intoned, they didn't hear me crack the door and- - - - - - god damn it - - - - - -, she was making out with some guy in those stupid pajamas. I can tell you, Charlie, I almost shit my pants."

Apparently, Max thought he had fulfilled his full disclosure obligation but there was no way I was going to be satisfied with him glossing over something as serious as this so, I said, insistently:

"Max, what is making out?" Was she giving him a peck on the lips?" Did they have their arms wrapped around one another, were they tongue kissing, were their bodies meshed together, what did he look like? Give me something here Max. They were making out just doesn't cut it."

"Fucking hell, he exclaimed, Yeah, they were pretty close and he had his hand under her blouse, or whatever you call it, and it looked like it was more than a peck on the lips - - - - - - - if you know what I mean. As best I could tell, he was a young guy, curly brown hair, in his early thirties."

"I didn't look that close, I closed the door quietly and went back to reception and was told that is was room 'B', not 'D' that I was supposed to be in. When my Doc came in my fucking pressure was 240 over 122, he wanted to put me in the fucking hospital, for god's sake. Later, when I thought about it, I figured you guys must have split up, that's why I opened my big mouth."

I have no idea how long I was sitting there with my head hanging down and my shoulders slumped when I felt Max behind me with his hands massaging my shoulders. He leaned down in a soft voice said:

"Charley, I want to tell you something that I have never told another soul, something that I am extremely ashamed of. I loved my Sylvia with my whole heart and soul. When she died I wanted to die just so I could be with her. However, we are all human and we all make mistakes."

"About twenty years ago I was at a convention, my business was starting to take off and I had some money in my pocket and felt like I was on top of the world. I was young, the booze and hormones were flowing and I invited a woman that I met there to my room and literally, fucked the shit out of her for the whole night. She was married, attending a different convention and if my life depended it on it I couldn't tell you her name or even what she looked like. All I remember is waking up alone with a splitting headache and the memory of what I had done. Me, big tough Max, cried into my pillow at my own betrayal. If there is a God and a heaven I know Sylvia will know what I did. I just pray that she will forgive me and we can be together again."

"Charley, what I saw may have been nothing more than, a onetime flirtation, a moment of human weakness. Please think of that before you do anything."

Now there were tears leaking from my eyes, that I was unsuccessfully trying to disguise and I reached back over my shoulder and patted Max's hand and with a quivering voice, said;

"I don't think I can stay here, my head's not in it."

With a booming voice, more replicant of the Max I've known all these years, he bellowed:

"Fuck the taxes, fuck the corrupt bloodsucking government. Get the fuck out of here, we'll do this another time."

I thought long and hard about what Max had said about human frailty and although kissing and groping, alone, might not be a deal breaker for our marriage, I believed in the old adage:

"Where there's smoke, there's fire."

After I left Max and knowing that Claudine was at work I went directly home. Having decided to play detective, I looked through drawers checking for any lingerie I hadn't seen before. I even checked the laundry hamper for panties that may have any trace evidence. After a half hour of fruitless rummaging around, I quit. realizing that if there was any evidence, it would be in her purse or on her phone.

My wife works 8AM to 5PM and when she arrived home she found me in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on an uninspired meal that I had prepared. There was an open bottle of Chardonnay on the counter and after giving me a peck on the lips, she poured herself one. Dinner conversation was a little subdued, I couldn't get the image, of what Max had described, out of my head.

After dinner we watched TV, mostly in silence and if Claudine noticed and change in my demeanor, she didn't say anything. When we eventually went to bed, Claudine disappeared into her walk-in closet and came out wearing my favorite purple teddy and smelling of my favorite perfume. She slipped in bed, next to me and immediately had her tongue in my mouth and her hand wrapped around my flaccid penis. After a minute or two of stroking it, she declared:

"Humph, it seems like my little friend doesn't want to play, I'll have to fix that."

I was probably just paranoid but her term "little friend" wasn't exactly inspiring and I wondered how big her lovers cock was, if in fact, she had one.

Those thoughts started to vanish as her tongue started swirling around the top of my penis before plunging down to engulf the entire shaft. My "little friend" began to respond and when she slowly inserted the tip of her finger into my anus, all thoughts of resistance vanished. I remember telling her once that if fellatio was an Olympic sport, her picture would be on the back of Wheaties boxes.

She was in rare form that night and before I could cum in her mouth she was sitting on my face, trying her best to get my tongue somewhere up near her navel. After a couple of loud orgasms, Claudine got on her hands and knees and had me fuck her from behind. I was pounding her so hard, that the headboard was slamming against the wall and I thought the picture might fall off.

My wife was never vocal during sex. I didn't say she wasn't noisy but she's not one of those women who verbalize her orgasms with words. She never says things like, "fuck me harder, ram my pussy, give me that big cock" or any words to that effect but her guttural moans and grunts are a clear indicator of when she is climaxing, and she had several more while in that position. Before, I could reach my own climax she moved me on to my back and was again sucking my cock. When I started to cum her whole body trembled with a final orgasm. She fell asleep quickly but Max's revelations made it difficult for me to doze off.

Since I was my own boss I decided to go to the office a little late, that next morning. Claudine gave me a passionate kiss before jumping into the shower to get ready for her shift. She walked to the bathroom naked and I couldn't help admiring her beautiful ass, I prayed that she wasn't sharing it with someone else. I was in a more relaxed mood when I went downstairs to put the coffee on. No doubt, the previous night of passion helped to allay some of my paranoia.

"Maybe it was, just, a onetime moment of weakness, I thought. After all it was almost a month ago that Max had been to her office and how could a woman who professed to love me and had demonstrated such unbridled passion just hours before, have a lover on the side."

"Besides, I mused, when would she have time for a lover. Okay, a kiss and a quick grope in an empty exam room but certainly not full-blown sex in a busy medical office. She never worked late, there were no girl's nights out, no bowling - - - - - - - nothing"

This could all be a lot to do about nothing. I was trying to be optimistic but I realized that even a kiss and allowing another man to fondle her breast, was something. At that last thought, Claudine came into the kitchen, dressed in her scrubs and I saw how easily accessible her breasts were in those loose-fitting clothes.

If there was something going on I had to know. If there had been something going on but it was over, well, I guessed I'd never know. However, later that morning I picked a P.I., from the Yellow Pages, that was close to my office and made an appointment for the same afternoon.

The name on the door was: A. Mellon, Investigative Services. When I entered the office, I was surprised to see an attractive woman in her mid-fifties. She had grey hair, a nice figure and unusually large breasts that protruded prominently, even from under her suit jacket.

After, I introduced myself, she stuck out her hand and said:

"Hi, I'm Ann Mellon."

I was immediately embarrassed when an involuntary chuckle escaped my throat. I started to apologize but she interrupted me, saying in a resigned tone:

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I've been getting that since I was sixteen."

I learned that she was a retired NYPD detective and had the same sarcastic wit and cynical demeanor often exhibited on TV cop shows.

After I explained why I was there and what I needed to know she asked me all of the pertinent questions: ages, children, sex life, occupations, etc. then she hit me with a question that I wasn't prepared for and, quite frankly, resented:

"Mr Manza, have you ever been unfaithful to your wife?"

She saw the annoyance on my face and when I forcefully, answered, "NEVER!" She went on with a spiel that I assumed she had delivered on multiple occasions, to many a spouse.

"Mr Manza - - - - - -

"Charley" I interrupted.

"Charley, she continued, the reason I had to ask that question is that sometimes a spouse cheats as an act of revenge for a real or perceived affair by his or her mate. Right now, you have an uncorroborated statement that a month ago someone - - - - - supposedly, saw your wife being kissed and some inappropriate touching. On top of that you have told me that she does not have the opportunity to conduct an illicit affair and that your sex life at home is good and unchanged. So in "cop speak" I'm telling you - - - - - - - - you ain't got squat. However, if you are willing to spend the money to ease your mind, I'm certainly willing to take it."

I signed the contract and paid her a cash retainer.

Things at home were normal, Claudine was her usual affectionate, cheery self and I was starting to believe that maybe Max had made a mistake.

By the following Monday I had received no word from Ann and realizing I was probably piling up some hefty, billable hours so, I decided that I would call her before the day was out and call off the dogs. Just after lunch I received a call from her and in her usual, cryptic tone, she said:

"Charley, I'm pretty sure I've got all there is to get, can you get to my office before five, I've got a date tonight and I don't want to be rushed getting ready?"

I got to her office by 4:30 and, to say the least, I was somewhat apprehensive since she hadn't hinted anything on the phone regarding the results of her investigation. When I arrived, she gestured for me to take a seat next to her desk and although she wasn't the "warm and fuzzy" type I detected a change in her demeanor, something that made me a bit edgy. Before I could ask anything, she slid a Manila envelope across the desk to me and in a softer voice, said: