Full of Surprises

There were four ways into the house. The front door had the security latch, and I'd already tried to get in that way, but couldn't. The sliding glass door into the sunroom only locked from the inside, so I couldn't get in that way. The basement door had a security latch, just like the front door, which could only be unfastened from the inside - so couldn't get in that way either. That left the garage. They would hear me coming, but at least I'd be in. Unless, of course, my wife had latched the security latch on the door into the garage too. That was a chance I'd have to take.

Okay, so if the garage was the only way in, then that was how I had to go in. I stood and checked the sliding glass door, just to be sure. Locked. "Might as well check the basement too," I thought. I walked down to the basement walkout and reached for the knob. It was locked. I got my keys out again and unlocked the knob and the deadbolt. Then I started to open the door, waiting for it to stop from the security clasp to catch. It never did. I opened the door all the way and walked into the basement. I must've forgotten to latch it the last time I used this door. I was in.

It was pitch black inside the basement, so I turned on the switch next to the door. I shut the door and listened for a moment. The house was quiet. I walked over to the stairs and climbed up. I opened up the basement door slowly and listened. Again, I didn't; hear anything. I walked into the hallway and closed the door behind me. I walked into the kitchen. The table was empty. I walked over to the sink and saw two wine glasses there. I opened the garbage and saw the take-out boxes and some half-eaten pieces of sushi. I walked over to the door that led into the garage and unlocked it. I opened the door and turned on the light. There was a strange car in my spot.

I walked quietly up the stairs to the second floor. Our bedroom was right at the top of the stairs. The door was shut, but I saw the light glowing under the door. I still didn't hear anything. I walked to the door and listened - nothing but the pounding of the blood in my own ears. I got down onto the floor and tried to look under the door couldn't see anything. I stood back up.

"All right," I thought to myself, "This is it - think for a second." My marriage was over. That was a fact about which I could do nothing now - but I wanted my marriage to end on my terms: This house would be mine; the kids would stay with me, in their home; and I would not be paying a dime to my soon to be ex-wife. I was resolved now.

I slowly turned the knob and opened the door. I paused. I still couldn't hear anything. I opened the door about two inches and then peered through the crack. There was some light, but it was rather dim. I opened the door a little more and then stuck my head in.

My wife was on the bed. She had her legs open and the guy was laying between her legs. I started to record. I zoomed in until the bed filled the whole frame. My wife had her eyes closed. She was still wearing her pantyhose - actually, they were a pair of black thigh-high stockings - and she was still wearing her blouse, although it was unbuttoned. Her skirt was off, as were her panties and bra, if she had ever been wearing any. Oddly enough, she was still also wearing her high heel shoes.

"I want you to come!" The guy had said it. I heard him sucking and licking now. He paused again and looked up, "I said, I want to hear you come!"

"Okay," my wife said softly. He was slurping and gulping again, and it looked he had a hand between her legs. The expression on my wife's face looked almost like she was in pain. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed.

"Come!" the guy was saying, "Come, come, come!" My wife was groaning, trying to come, and then she did. It was unlike any orgasm that she'd ever had with me. It was loud and exaggerated and ugly . . . it was grotesque.

The guy got up to his knees and started to pull off his shirt. He was already naked from the waist down. "Okay," he said, "suck me again." My wife jumped up and put her head down between his legs. I could see her taking his dick between her lips. He was bucking his hips, thrusting into her mouth. She was gagging.

I went on like that for a minute or so, and then he said "Okay!" He pulled out of my wife's mouth, and then said "Get down on your back!" She lay back and opened her legs again. He positioned himself between her and guided his dick into her. In the zoomed in screen of my phone, I could see the head of his cock as he pushed in between the hairy lips of my wife's pussy. She cried out as he sank into her. "Oh, yeah," he said. He started to buck into her. His lips were by her mouth now, but my wife seemed not to notice. Her head was turned slightly away from him.

"I want your tongue," he said. My wife turned her head towards him, but her eyes were still closed. "Stick out your tongue," he said. My wife obliged, and I saw his tongue touch hers. He was plunging into her hard now, and my wife had her arms up above her head, holding onto the headboard. "Oh yeah," he groaned. "Oh yeah! I'm . . . I'm going to come!" My wife turned her head away from him again. He slowed his thrusting now, and then stopped completely. And then he yelled out as he started to come into my wife.

I stood there, shaking so much that I could no longer hold the phone. I stepped back and stood against the wall of the hall. I stopped recording and slipped the phone into my pocket again. I was afraid that I was breathing so heavily that they might even hear me. I started to feel physically ill - and all of the sudden I felt sick to my stomach. I hurried down the stairs and I felt myself break out into a cold sweat. I knew I was going to vomit now, so I rushed down the basement stairs and ran into the bathroom. I barely made it to the sink before I started to wretch.

I turned on the water to flush out the sink, and drank from the faucet to clear out my mouth. I used a hand towel to wipe the sweat off my face. I didn't hear anything from upstairs, so I was confident they didn't hear anything. Went back to the walkout door and turned off all the lights. I locked the door behind me and started to walk through the backyard. I looked up at the bedroom window. The light was still on. I walked into the side yard, and I was sick again. I vomited next to the air-conditioned. I had a terrible, acidy taste in my mouth again, and I knew that I didn't have anything in my car to wash it out. I thought about it for a moment, and then went back to the basement.

As soon as I walked into the basement, I heard the unmistakable sound of the garage door opening. I immediately shut the door and ran around to the front of the house. By the time I reached the front yard, the garage door was almost closed, and all I saw was the red brake lights of a car rounding the bend of our street.

I ran over to my car, fumbling to get my keys out. I knew that I had to catch up with him before he turned out of our street or I'd probably lose him. When I got into the car, the smell of the sushi hit me in the face. That, combined with the terrible taste in my mouth made me heave, but I had nothing else to come up. I started my car and looked at my house as I drove by. The garage door was down and there didn't appear to be any lights on. I sped by.

When I reached the end of the street, I didn't see the car. I swore and looked left and right. He probably went left, I thought. That was the way to the express way. I turned and hit a red light. "Fuck!" I screamed. I was scanning the cars ahead of me, but couldn't tell if any of them were the one I was after. I ran the light. I got to next intersection and looked left and right. I'd lost him. I didn't even have his license plate number

***

I don't' want to recount the details of the next three months, so here are the highlights. On the night after I'd lost the guy outside of my subdivision, I drove to my parent's house. It wasn't even 9:00 PM yet. I used the bathroom and hugged and kissed my kids. There were tears in my eyes, and I asked my mom to please put them down for the night. My dad asked me what was wrong and I sat down at the kitchen table. "Let's wait for mom," I said. "I don't want to tell it twice."

The next day, I called my wife bright and early. She still thought I was in Chicago. I told her I needed her to drive three hours to an airport in the neighboring state, since that was the only flight I could get that day. She agreed and then called my mom to ask if she could keep the kids for the day. My mom looked at me. I nodded and she said yes. She was still crying from last night.

As soon as my wife left the house, my dad and I went in and changed the locks. I packed up all of my wife's clothes. She called around noon, just about the time she'd be arriving at the airport. I didn't answer. My dad and I took the boxes of her stuff over to her parent's house and left them on the porch. Fortunately they weren't home. The lawyer met me at my house and he had everything ready when my wife arrived home. He severed her divorce papers and the temporary restraining orders at the same time. I didn't watch, but I could hear her screaming all the way in the bedroom. He told her that she should go to her parent's house, and that in the future all contact should go through him.

My wife tried to call me the next day. My lawyer called her back and told her that she was violating the restraining order and would be arrested if it happened again. She never tried it after that. I agreed to let her see the kids for an hour every day and for three hours on the weekends. For the visits, one of my parents would drop off and pick up the kids. It was a terrible time.

I didn't see my wife again for two months, until the date of the hearing. My wife initially denied she had been unfaithful. I showed the video. After that, I got everything I wanted. Sole custody of our children, the house (which was in my name anyway), and no alimony. She didn't really put up a fight - not after the video. She had only one condition: that I give her an hour. After that she'd sign the papers. My lawyer told me to accept, otherwise she could make it difficult. I agreed.

***

I drove to the park an hour early. I walked past the picnic table where I was supposed to meet my wife - she wasn't there yet of course - and then walked around for a while. The park was crowded, as it always was on weekends, which is one of the reasons I picked it as our meeting place. About fifteen minutes before the hour, I saw my wife walking towards the picnic table. She sat down and looked at her watch - then she started to look around nervously. I started to walk towards her. She saw me when I was about twenty paces away and almost gave me a half-hearted smile before thinking better of it and looking down at her hands.

I sat down across from her. She looked terrible. She's obviously been crying, and she had fresh tears in her eyes now. "Hi," she said sadly.

"Hi," I said.

"Do you have the papers?" she asked. I put the folder on the table and nodded. "Okay," she sniffed. "The first thing I need to know is if you saw him?"

"What?" I asked.

"I know you were there, but I don't know if you ever saw him. Did you see him?"

"Yes. I saw him," I answered.

"So you know who he was?"

"No, I don't know who he is."

"What do you mean," she asked. "It was Rick Strom."

I looked at her. "Who's Rick Strom."

She looked at me and frowned. "He told me everything. He told me about the money you embezzled."

"He told you . . . he told you what?" I asked.

"I know all about it. I did it to protect you. I did it to keep you from going to jail."

I looked at her shook my head. "What . . . in the hell . . . are you talking about?"

"Rick met me at the company Christmas party, over a year ago. I don't remember him exactly, but a few months later he came to our home. He said he needed to talk to me about you. He told me that he was investigating you and had discovered that you had embezzled a hundred thousand dollars from the company. He showed me the evidence the computer logs of you stealing the funds. He said that the FBI was preparing to indict you and he was cooperating with the investigation."

I looked around. No one else seemed to notice us. "What else did he say?" I asked.

"He said that, if you were found guilty, that you spend at least ten years in prison - at least ten, but probably a lot more. He said that the FBI didn't have enough evidence to convict yet, but they were getting closer. He also said that I shouldn't say a word to you about it, because if I did I would be an accomplice and I could serve time too. On the other hand, if I cooperate, he could help us both."

"And what did you say?" I asked.

"I told him I'd think about it. He gave me his card and told me that we'd have to meet again next week. By then, I needed to let him know where I stood."

I sighed. "Go on."

"The next time he met me, he brought a special agent form the FBI with him - his name was Jim Besser. They told me that if I cooperated, they would go easy on you and do everything they could to keep you out of jail. But if I didn't, they would prosecute you and me together." She wiped a tear away. "So I agreed. I thought it was the best thing to do for you. The best thing for all of us."

"What did you do exactly?" I asked.

"I started meeting with Rick every week. He kept me up to date on the investigation. He asked me about the money, but I told him I didn't know anything about it. I told him that you never told me anything about it. He didn't believe me at first, but eventually I convinced him. What did you do with the money anyway?"

I shook my head. "How long were you meeting with him, behind my back?"

"For several months," she said, weeping. "It was terrible. I felt sick. That was when I had to go to the doctor because of the pain in my stomach, remember? Then, about four months ago, Rick met me with agent Besser again. Besser told me that he was ready to indict you. He said that if I helped, they would seek a plea deal and there was a good chance that you wouldn't have to go to jail. So I agreed again to cooperate."

"So how did you end up in bed with . . . with Rick?" I asked incredulously.

"After Besser left, I broke down and Rick was trying to comfort me. He told me that Besser was depending on him to deliver the evidence and that he . . . he said that he could help us. He said he cared about me and considered me a friend, and he said that he would help me. He asked if we could meet again, so he came to the house the next day."

"Okay," I said. "And then what?"

"He told me that . . . he told me that he was in love with me. He said he knew that it was wrong and that nothing could come from it, but he wanted me to know. Then he said he could destroy the evidence. He said without it they couldn't indict you. But he said it was risky for him, and that he could get into a lot of trouble. But he said he would do it if I would . . . he said that he would do it if I gave him . . . one night."

I shook my head. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

My wife wiped her eyes before continuing. "I told him I couldn't and he left. He called me the next week and said he needed to tell me about the case. We met and he said the FBI was ready to indict and he had to turn the evidence over soon." She rubbed her forehead. "Then he said the offer still stood. He said he would probably lose his job over it, but if I would agree to be with him then he would make sure the FBI couldn't convict. But I still couldn't. Anyway, this went on for the next two weeks, and then you went on that trip to Chicago."

"My trip to Chicago? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Besser came to the house the day after you departed," my wife said. "He told me that Rick Strom was wrapping up his investigation and would be delivering the evidence by the end of the week. He said that they would probably be arresting you at the airport when you flew home on Friday. He wanted to make sure that I was still going to cooperate. After he left, I called Rick. I told him . . . I told him that I needed his help."

"So you agreed to it then?" I asked.

"I did. I had my parents watch the kids on Wednesday, and Rick took me out to diner. We came back to the house, but . . . but I couldn't do it. I broke down and he ended up leaving. He was really quite upset with me," she laughed through her tears. "Any way, he left. And the next day, Besser called me and said he had a warrant for you arrest. So I called Rick again. I told him we had to do it that night, because you were going to come home the next day. But I couldn't get anyone to watch the kids, so it didn't work out."

"And then came Friday," I said.

"Yes. Rick called me and said he had to deliver the evidence that day. He said that I should enjoy the night with you because it would probably be the last night I spent with you. So I arranged to have your parents watch the kids. I was going to tell you everything that had been happening. But then you called and said you wouldn't be in until the next day. I realized that this was the last chance I had, so I called Rick and told him to come over. He agreed to destroy the evidence if I could go through with it . . . and I did."

I looked away from her.

"It's been three months, so I guess Rick was true to his word. You've not been arrested."

I stood up and started to walk away. She told me to wait and I held up my hand. "I'll be right back," I told her, "I just need to make a call."

I went over to the woods and called Liz, who worked in HR at my company. We spoke for about fifteen minutes, and I was sure to be out of earshot from my wife. I came back I sat down across from her again. She looked at me expectantly.

"You should have told me," I said.

Her eyes welled up again. "I know. I know I should have. I thought I was doing the right thing. I . . ."

I held up my hand and she stopped. "I just talked to HR. There is a Rick Strom who works at my company. He doesn't work in security, or internal investigations, or any such thing. He works in IT support."

"What?"

"I didn't embezzle any money. Jesus, how could you think that I would do something like that?"

She didn't know what to say.

"He lied to you. I guess he saw you at the Christmas part and . . . I don't know I guess he thought that he could take advantage of you. Anyway, everything he told you was a lie."

My wife covered her mouth and started to weep. "Oh my god! But . . . but what about . . . what about Jim Besser?"

"I don't know. He was probably a friend of his or something. Did he show you any identification?"

She nodded. "Well maybe we can get the bastard for posing as an . . ."

My wife burst into uncontrollable crying. I got up and walked over to her, taking her into my arms. "Shhh . . .it's okay," I told her. She fell into my arms and I just tried to console her.

"What have I done," she said. "Oh god, I've ruined everything."

I was finally able to calm her down and took her by the shoulders. "Look at me," I said. She looked up into my eyes. "It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. Everything you did, it was for me. You did it for our family, you did it for our kids." She started to weep again. "I'm sorry," I said. I had tears in my eyes now too. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you three months ago. I'm sorry that I put you through all this"

She fell into my arms again and we hugged each other. "I missed you so much," she said.

"I know, I've missed you too," I said. I kissed my wife for the first time in over three months.

***

He was stupid to use his real name. Maybe he thought I'd never find out the truth. Maybe he thought my wife remembered him from the Christmas party and knew his real name. Whatever the case: he was stupid to use his real name. There was only one thing I needed to do now: get even with Rick Strom. And I needed to be introduced to Jim Besser as well.