Gold for Plastic Ch. 01

One thing that didn't happen that week was a trip to Gabriel's. I figured that maybe Meg decided she'd overdone it a little because she didn't even ask to go. But, she did bring it up the next week and by then I'd cooled down enough to say ok. I really didn't need another night at the snob-house, but there was no way I'd let her go alone after what had happened the last time. She made me promise I wouldn't cause problems and I made her promise she'd use a little better judgment when she flirted.

The scene at the mansion was pretty much the same as before with maybe half again as many people. Palmer and I managed to shake hands and apologize to each other and the evening settled down into a series of elitist conversations that couldn't have been duller to me. Megan was behaving herself and I was bored so we agreed that Theresa would bring her home and I left early. That seemed to work out ok and for a while, that became the pattern once or twice a week. I'd stay for an hour or so, talk a little, get bored and leave early and Theresa would bring Meg home later on. Megan seemed happier and I found I was adjusting. It seemed like a win-win.

About this time, things started heating up at work. There was an important update to some software that was already past its release date and it was turning out to be really, really buggy. I was pulled off all of my normal duties and put in charge of fixing it, and, as usual, I wasn't getting a lot of help. My boss made it very clear to me that it would be really good for my career if I could get this fixed within a couple of months and also suggested that they might have to look for someone else if I couldn't. So, naturally, I knew I'd be spending a lot of time at work after hours and on the weekends.

This wasn't the first time I had to put in long hours at work over a long stretch and I was expecting Megan to throw a fit. Previously, when this sort of thing happened, Megan would bitch about it and make me promise to make it up to her with a nice vacation or something. This time, though, she barely complained at all and said she was ok with it as long as she could hang out with Theresa and the rest of her new friends when she got lonely. I suppose I should have had some serious misgivings about that, and I guess I did feel a little nudge of concern, but I knew it would be a huge issue if I left her alone at home night after night without anything to do. So I got her to promise to behave and made peace with the thought she'd be hanging out at Gabriel's a lot without me.

Over the next couple of months I worked my ass off on the project and was not only getting rid of the bugs, but made a couple of upgrades in the code itself. I was happy with my work and so was my boss, so things at work were ok. Things at home seemed ok too. Meg and I weren't fighting at all and when we did have time to spend together, we got along great. Really, except for the work-imposed limited time we had together, everything was pretty much the same as before Theresa came around.

Maybe one thing that was a little different was the sex. What we did and how we did it didn't change much at all. Our typical time in the sack had always started high intensity with a lot of oral sex and a pounding session, usually with her on her knees or on top. Then she'd bring me back up with her hands or her mouth and we'd have a nice, long, luxurious fuck with her on her back. That pattern was pretty much the same still, except that Megan was now really into the ambience. She'd make sure candles were lit or some flower petals were on the bed or some nice music was playing. Frankly, that sort of thing did nothing for me, but she'd also started wearing lingerie before and sometimes during the sex, and I loved that. Corsets, garters, cat suits, heels, leather, she wore all kinds of stuff, and it was all like crystal meth for my libido. Seriously, just the mental image of her lying on the bed in some smoking hot lingerie with maybe a thin sheen of oil on her body was enough to get me completely unhinged right in the middle of work.

Now, of course, I didn't want to upset the apple cart, but I did want to how the clothing change came about and so, one night after a particularly steamy session in which she'd worn a smoking hot corset, I had to ask where she'd gotten it.

"I got this shopping with Theresa at Guinevere's. Do you like it?"

"I love it. In fact, I pretty much love everything you've been wearing lately to bed." I hesitated a bit. "What, uh, inspired you to start wearing these outfits?"

"Oh, mostly talking with Theresa. She always dresses up for Stuart and after listening to the results she gets, I wanted to give it a try." She smiled. "You seem to be ok with it, so I kept it up."

"Uh, yeah, I'm definitely ok with it," I said, gazing at the way the corset shoved her breasts up.

"See, Theresa isn't so bad. You should lighten up on her. She knows what she's talking about when it comes to the bedroom and that's good for you."

"Yes, I guess I can't really argue with that." I said, as I watched her tits rise and fall above the corset with her breathing. Very briefly, a disturbing thought flitted at the back of my mind. "What if I'm not the only one that Megan's newfound love of lingerie has been good for?"

Well, after a couple of months, I finished debugging and sprucing up the software and it finally got out. It turned out to be so successful that my bosses bumped up my position and gave me new responsibilities and a raise. The price for that, though, was that while I was working less than I had during the de-bugging crunch, my hours were still more than they had been in the past. So, to some degree, we'd kept up the pattern that had been established in the months before. We had a little more time to spend together, but if I had to work late, Megan would head out to Gabriel's for the evening, which was usually a couple of times a week.

Valentine 's Day was coming up and I got it in my head that I wanted to buy Meg some more lingerie. She loved to wear it. I loved to look at her in it. It seemed like a great idea. So, when I got home a little a little earlier than expected one night and found a note that said she was out with Theresa, I figured this might be a good time to go shopping at Guinevere's. Now, Megan had a particularly hot black corset that really got my motor running and I decided I'd love to see her in a red one. But, getting the right size on clothes is always a problem for me, so I thought I'd better check the tag on the corset or even bring it in to compare before I bought anything new.

The problem, though, was that I couldn't find the damn thing. I checked in all her drawers, in her closet, in the laundry, pretty much everywhere. I sat for a minute trying to decide where else it might be when a faintly disturbing thought came to my mind. "Maybe I can't find it because she's wearing it right now." I brushed the thought away at first, but the more I considered it, the more likely that possibility seemed to me. And then an even worse thought, "If she's wearing it, who is she wearing it for and what are they doing?"

My mind was now vacillating quickly between being certain she was entertaining some man at Gabriel's and deciding I was being paranoid and that there must be some other explanation. Eventually, though, the suspicious part of me started to win out. I called her cell phone and it went to voice mail and then called Theresa's and got voice mail too. I could think of no other way to find out what was going on than to actually find Megan and see what she was doing, and that meant going to Gabriel's. I hesitated for a couple of minutes, debating whether finding and confronting her was wise, but ultimately I realized I had to know. I got in my car and drove to Gabriel's.

There were only a half dozen or so cars parked around the driveway when I got there. When I saw one of them was Megan's, I knew I was on the right track, but my heart dropped into my stomach and I felt like my life was starting to come apart. I parked, walked deliberately up the drive and knocked on the door which was answered by Jordy, a huge, amiable black man with a shaved head, whose job was to keep things quiet and safe. I considered trying to push past him to get inside, but even though I'm a pretty big guy, Jordy had 50 pounds of muscle on me and I knew I wouldn't get far. I decided to play it as cool as I could; I said hi, chatted a little and acted like I was expected. He recognized me from my previous visits and didn't put up any sort of a roadblock when I ambled past him into the house.

As casually as possible I began searching for any sign of Megan. I checked the patios, the dens and the living rooms. When I entered the kitchen I saw Theresa and Stuart, seated at a table, drinking some wine and eating some sort of cheese. They were both dressed in bathrobes, and Theresa's hair was uncharacteristically unkempt. Everything about them seemed post-coital. She looked up when I entered the room and her mouth dropped open in surprise and I thought I caught a hint of worry in her eyes.

"Theresa, where's Megan?" I asked as coolly as possible.

"I, uh, I'm not sure she's even here. I thought she might be at home," she replied nervously.

I snorted and gave her an incredulous laugh. "Try again Theresa, I know she's here."

As Theresa was trying to formulate another lie, she gave things away when I saw her eyes nervously shift towards a stairway that I knew led to some of the upstairs guest rooms. I set my jaw, moved quickly to the stairway and started up, 2 steps at a time.

"Matt, stop. Matt...don't." Theresa was almost pleading.

At the top of the stairs was a hall with maybe half a dozen doors coming off either side. I had no option but to try them all. I opened the first door carefully and saw a lump lying on the bed in a darkened room. My eyes adjusted and I realized it was just some guy who was taking a nap. The next two doors yielded empty rooms, but there was a couple on the bed in the fourth room. The room was about as dark as a high end restaurant so I had trouble making things out as the only real light came from half a dozen candles on the headboard as well as some faint light coming through a window and the minimal amount of light from the door I'd just cracked open. The couple on the bed didn't respond when I slipped into the room and I thought they either didn't hear me or were so used to people looking in inadvertently that they simply weren't fazed by the idea of a temporary or accidental audience. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out the back of a woman, slowly, rhythmically rocking her pelvis over the man below her. She was leaning close to him, supporting her weight with her hands resting on either side of his neck. They were making very soft, murmuring sounds; the room smelled of oranges and candles and sex. Her back glistened with a thin film of sweat and her light colored hair hung down to brush against the man face. I looked closely at the woman and caught a look of her face in the candlelight as she turned slightly. It looked like Megan. I stepped a little closer and my foot struck something on the floor. Looking down, I recognized her black corset. My heart broke. I leaned back against the wall, found the light switch and turned it on.

Megan turned quickly and looked back at me. First I saw annoyance, then surprise, then something else, fear maybe, I wasn't sure. She rolled off the man and I could see it was Palmer, sweating, aroused and more than a little annoyed. Megan sat upright beside him, looking straight at me. She was completely naked, shining with sweat, her hair was wild, her nipples were an engorged red and her face was flushed from the sex.

She began to speak, haltingly, her voice thick with a hint of both anger and worry. "Matt....why....how....why are you here?"

"I came to see my wife." I said, flatly. "Nice to see you honey."

We stared at each other, looking for something, anything, that would make this situation understandable or acceptable. I could see she was on the verge of tears and, although I didn't realize it at the time, I think I'd already crossed that boundary myself. But along with pain, I could also feel anger welling up inside me, white and hot and explosive. I felt my fists tighten, my jaw clench and my nostrils flare. I stepped purposefully toward the bed, toward Palmer, and I could see fear in his eyes. I knew I was going to beat him senseless, to hurt him physically like he'd hurt me, but as I got close to the bed a large black hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. Suddenly, I was facing Jordy, and he looked angry and resolute. I pushed off him to take a step backwards toward the bed, but he grabbed me in a bear hug and started dragging me from the room. I managed to get my hands on his shoulders and took him down to the ground and we wrestled there for a minute. I was able to get free momentarily and started toward the bed again and when Palmer saw this he essentially cowered like a little boy behind Megan. But, Jordy caught me again and this time was able to drag me back out into the hallway. He pushed me against the wall and started speaking in a quiet, earnest voice.

"I can't let you do this, man. It's my job. But think for a second. Just think. That guy is a first class prick for sure and you'd probably feel better for a while by sending him to the hospital....or worse. But is it worth jail time? Is he? Will it change anything if you hurt him? Or kill him? Think, man, think."

I continued to struggle against him for a minute or two, but his words sunk into me. I could accomplish nothing here by either talking or fighting. My shoulders slumped in capitulation.

"Shit." It was all I could say.

I looked him in the eye and nodded, he let me go and I started walking down the hallway. Near the end, I turned and saw Megan by the door, in a robe, looking after me.

"I'm sorry Matt." She said.

"Bitch." I answered back and watched more tears gather in her eyes. She didn't follow me as I started down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs I ran into Theresa, still in her robe. She had a look of uncertainty and maybe a little bit of concern about her.

"Don't do anything rash, Matt. She loves you. You love her. Don't screw that up."

I looked at her and laughed, bitterly. Without answering I walked out of the mansion, got into my car and drove home.

Once I got home, I felt paralyzed. I had no reference for what I was supposed to do now. Pack and leave? Pack her stuff? Wait to have a big discussion? Get a lawyer? Get a gun?

Lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling I obsessively and unproductively considered the merits of all my various choices, my mental indecision playing against a confused emotional backdrop of anger and heartbreak. Time slipped by, and I was still on the couch when Meg got home around an hour later. Her arrival took the decision about what to do next out of my hands. The big discussion option became step one.

She'd been crying and she had no makeup on, but her hair was damp and I could tell she'd taken time to grab a shower. I sat up as she entered the living room and she carefully sat down in a chair facing the couch. She looked at me with sadness and uncertainty and I thought maybe she thought I'd start the conversation. I had no idea what to say at that moment, so I waited her out.

"Matt, I'm sorry you saw that. I know how bad that had to hurt and I'm sorry. I never, ever wanted to hurt you like that. You know that, right?"

I digested the little she had just said. Sorry that I saw it. Sorry that it hurt. I didn't hear that she was sorry that she'd done it or even any suggestion that it was a mistake that wouldn't ever be repeated.

It took me a minute to compose myself and organize my thoughts enough to reply. "Well. It does hurt. It hurts a hell of a lot really." I looked to gauge her reaction, but nothing really changed. I realized I had to know what she was really thinking, what she was planning, because any plans I could make were totally dependent on her, I felt like she had all the cards.

"So, Meg. What are you going to do? You coming to get your stuff and move in with him? What?"

She looked shocked and replied aggressively. "No Matt, God no." She paused. "I love you. I love being your wife. I hate it that I've hurt you. I want to keep things like they are. "

I could see she was sincere, but something about the way she was talking bothered me. "What do you mean you want to keep things the way they are?"

She looked down biting her lip and fumbling with her fingers. It looked to me like she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "Look Matt, you're really emotional right now and I don't think this is the best time to...."

"You've fucking well got that right. I'm very fucking emotional right now and I think you could say I want to get a few things straight." I was practically spitting the words at her.

She seemed a little cowed by my aggression and anger, but her eyes didn't leave mine. "OK , what do you want to know, then, Matt?"

"Well, for starters, what the hell kind of a relationship do you have with Palmer? Are you in love with him or what? And....and.....again, what exactly do you mean by you want to keep things the way they are?"

She still looked uncertain and uncomfortable. But I was now seeing something else in her eyes, something like defiance.

"I wouldn't say I'm in love with him. Not in the same way I'm in love with you. Maybe it is a kind of love, I suppose, but..."

"A kind of love? What the hell kind of love is it Meg? The kind of love a married woman can have with another man? What is that, exactly, because I'd really like to know?"

"You can love more than one person, Matt in more than one kind of way. I'm married to you, but I'm not locked in some sort of emotional prison where I can't reach out to others...."

"Good God, Megan, what the hell are you talking about? Reaching out to others? I just caught you in bed with another man, not giving out free meals to the poor or buying Christmas presents for your Mom and Dad. What the hell kind of love allows a married woman to hop in the sack with another man?"

She looked like she was searching for the right words. I was furious and getting more impatient and I think she could see that her answers had been making things worse.

"Our relationship means a lot to me and to him. I enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. He fills out my life..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I was practically screaming at this point. "You sound like you aren't even sorry that you've been screwing him. You sound like this is.....this is.....normal, acceptable behavior...."

"Normal Matt? What the hell is normal?" Now she was getting a little aggressive, and the way she was defending herself with defiance and anger was confusing and frustrating me. "Is it normal to artificially restrict all of your romantic feelings to one person for life? Is that normal Matt? "

"Yeah....yeah, I think it is. I mean, normal is you sleep with the person you are married to. You reserve that kind of....that kind of love.....for your husband. That's normal Megan. That's what married people do. That's what the hell is expected." I was breathing hard and staring incredulously at her. I went on. "My God, Meg, it sounds like you want to keep this going. That you....that you want both of us at the same time. Is that what you mean by 'you want to keep things the way they are'? You can't seriously believe that's possible."

"Look Matt, like I said, you're really emotional right now and you're not in the frame of mind to rationally evaluate this." She waited for a second, maybe thinking I'd interrupt, but I let her continue. "My relationship with Palmer doesn't and wouldn't ever affect the relationship I have with you. There isn't any real reason I can't have a close relationship with both of you. And, if you love me, and cared for my happiness, I think you'd make the sacrifice to your pride, and that's the only thing you'd have to sacrifice, and allow me to see Palmer." She was using a measured voice and her words came out as if she were delivering a practiced speech. Maybe it was. Still, though, I was having trouble really comprehending what she was saying.