Goose and Gander: My Version Ch. 02

It has been a while since Chapter One was published; it might serve the reader better if he went back and reread that first.

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Oh, my God! I was waiting, hoping beyond hope that Henry would come home to me, and not spend the night with that slut. I was going to do everything I could to seduce him, to make him mine again, and then he charges in, with the slut in tow, and demanded that I get out, because he's going to fuck her on our marriage bed!

I guess that I should have said, "Hell no!" and made them fuck in the spare bedroom, but I couldn't. I was so mortified that I jumped up and fled our bedroom. I'd put on some sexy satin pajamas, like in the movies, but left the top unbuttoned, hoping Henry found it sexy, and I clutched the top together, rushing out, glad that I hadn't been naked. I ran into Simon's old bedroom, barely able to see through my tears. I was wailing so loudly that the neighbors might have heard me.

It was so awful, I cried so much that I soaked the thin chenille bedspread over the pillows, and I was in real, physical pain. My guts hurt, and I was half choking on my own tears.

I don't know how long I laid there, crying my heart out, before I just had to go to the bathroom. I guess that I'd just about run out of tears, had no more to shed, at least for a while. Of course, my bathroom was our bathroom, in the master suite, but I couldn't use that, not with Henry fucking his slut in there, so I opened the bedroom door, cautiously, not wanting to be seen. The door to the master was half way open, and the room was dark and silent, as I padded to the bathroom our kids had used growing up.

I plopped myself down on the toilet, and my bowels just let go. It was horrible, nasty, totally stank up the bathroom. I hadn't puked when Henry brought Janet in, I guess because my dinner, such as it was, had already passed through my stomach and was in my intestines, but this felt like I was puking sick from the far end. I just sat there, sobbing almost tearlessly, but still listening for noise from the master bedroom.

How long had I lain there, crying? Henry and the slut had at least finished whatever fucking they were going to do, and I knew already that Henry wasn't able to go all night. Even before my affair with James, Henry had been like a University of Kentucky basketball player: one and done. I don't think that Henry had gone for two since before he turned thirty.

Of course, how many married men did? Yeah, James was exciting, especially at first, but he was one-and-done just as much as Henry was. I suppose the naughtiness of sneaking around helped make the sex more exciting, but really, it wasn't much better than with Henry, and no better really, once the affair dragged on. When James had to break it off, because his wife figured out he was having an affair - thank God she never found out it was with me! - it was as much of a relief as it was a disappointment.

I really fouled up the bathroom, wondering if the stink would bother the slut and enjoying that thought, but worried that if Henry detected it he'd want me even less than he did. I cleaned myself up, then looked to brush my teeth. My toothbrush was in the master bathroom, but, fortunately, there were some unused ones, still in the packaging, stored in the medicine chest in here, plus an unopened tube of Colgate in here. I wished that we'd kept some mouthwash in the now-guest bathroom, but we hadn't done that.

The house was deathly quiet; not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. I hadn't heard anything from Henry and the slut, not through my crying, and they must've been sound asleep now. At least they weren't snoring.

What was I going to do? Tomorrow was Saturday - actually, today was Saturday, since it was surely after midnight - and no one had to be at work. Was I expected to be up early, like a good little wife, and have breakfast ready for Henry and the slut? Am I supposed to just calmly feed them bacon and eggs and fresh, homemade biscuits like I normally made for my husband on weekend mornings?

I went back to Simon's old bedroom, but sleep just wouldn't come to me. There was an old dial-face alarm clock in the room, but, in the dark, I had to get really close to read it; it was 4:14 in the morning. Might as well get the fuck up, because staying in my son's old room just kept reminding me that Janet was sleeping in my bed, with my husband, when I should have been in there. I tiptoed to the stairs - which didn't require passing the half-open master bedroom door - and went soundlessly downstairs.

My iPad was still upstairs, on my nightstand, so there wasn't anything to read, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to turn on the television, making noise. We never had that many books around, and no magazines or newspapers. These days, I only read from my iPad, though there were some old Victoria Holt paperbacks still left. Trouble was, they were in the master bedroom, too.

I sat back down in Henry's La-Z-Boy, with nothing to occupy my mind other than my own thoughts. I had to keep Henry, I just had to! Yeah, I had screwed around with James, but that was ten years ago! Other than that one-nighter, I had been a faithful wife for nine years now. Henry knew about James, anyway, and he'd stayed with me, kept fucking me, so he at least wasn't revolted by it, Yeah, he'd given me the reason that divorce was too expensive before, but that now, with the kids grown up, it wouldn't hurt him financially, so I could divorce him if I wanted to.

Emotionally drained, things seemed to flow into my mind more rationally. Yeah, Henry wouldn't dump me ten years ago, because that was the beginning of the financial crisis. Not only would he have gotten stuck with child support and probably alimony, but with the bottom having dropped out of the housing market, if we had to sell the house, we probably haven't even broken even. We'd put 20% down, so the mortgage was for only 80% of the sale price - we hadn't even paid closing costs; those we negotiated to put on the seller - but getting $140,000 for a home we'd bought ten years earlier for a $200,000 would have been a stretch, and we owed more than $140,000 on it then. Now, with the housing market back, we could probably sell for $250,000, maybe more, and come out with a profit. We only owed about $60,000 on the mortgage now, so we'd each walk away with what, $95,000 in our pockets? Sure, divorce now wouldn't hurt Henry in the slightest! He could rent an apartment somewhere, and have any of his sluts come visit him, anytime. Maybe that bitch Janet had her own house, and he could just move in with her if he wanted.

Meanwhile, I'd have nobody.

James had stayed with his wife, so he wouldn't want me. I'm 55 years old, post-menopausal, and I have a hard time with sex; how am I going to get another man?

But I didn't want another man; I wanted my husband!

I guess that fatigue finally took me, because all of a sudden I awoke, with the light of dawn in the living room. My mind was clear within seconds, and I knew enough to stay still, and listen. As before, there was no noise in the house. Henry and Janet must still be asleep.

Henry and Janet. Damn, it hurt to think about that! I guess that I had replenished my tears, because my eyes started to get wet again, but at least I wasn't sobbing hysterically this time. A glance at the time on the cable box told me that it was 7:22, so I got up, went into the downstairs lavatory and peed.

It was like I was an automaton, heading back up into the kitchen and starting our usual Saturday morning breakfast. I got out the flour, sugar, buttermilk and baking soda, getting ready to make the biscuits from scratch. They'd take 15 minutes to bake, at 425º, once I'd gotten them mixed up, and I'd cook the bacon and eggs while they were baking.

Fortunately, we had some fresh orange juice in the 'fridge, and I'd make some coffee as well. Damn it if I was going to show my humiliation; I'd have breakfast ready in as dignified a manner as I could, even if that meant feeding that slut as well. Cooking kind of occupied my mind anyway, making things easier on me, at least for a few minutes!

Well, I was as prepared as I could be, with the bacon cooked, and the eggs just about done. The biscuits were out, and I had the table set, with three place settings, coffee and orange juice already poured. I went to the foot of the stairs, knowing that the master bedroom door was half opened, and, though it took all of my willpower to do it, yelled up with as steady a voice as I could muster, "Henry! Janet! Breakfast is ready!"

Henry's plate was ready, with two eggs, over easy, just the way my husband likes them. I had no idea how the slut liked her eggs, and didn't really care, so I prepared her two, over easy like Henry's, and if that wasn't how she liked them, well too fucking bad.

"I can't believe that you cooked breakfast," Henry said as he staggered down the stairs. He looked a little rougher than usual for Saturday morning.

Oh, my God, he came down alone! Was the slut gone? I kept myself steady, and asked as calmly as I could, "Isn't Janet going to eat breakfast?"

"She isn't here," Henry mumbled, and I had to hold myself in check, because my heart was jumping for joy!

"Oh, really?" I wanted to ask more, but didn't know how to put the words. I'd let Henry tell me.

It was strange, as we breakfast mostly in silence, but that third place setting was sitting there, silently mocking us, as if daring us to talk about it. Henry did not look happy.

Finally he spoke. "Janet called an Uber, and got a ride home. She was pissed off that you were in the bed, and just wanted to leave."

My heart leapt for joy! Henry hadn't fucked the slut! I struggled to not show it. "Why? She knew that you were married. What did she expect?"

"I guess that she didn't expect what happened." There had to be more, but my husband fell silent again.

Another four minutes passed, silently, but they seemed like hours. From the way we were seated, I could see the clock on the range, but Henry couldn't. I thought that was an advantage for me. "Are you going to see her again?" I asked. All of the pressure was on him right now.

Maybe crying much of the night had tempered my emotions, and I was able to keep my demeanor calm. Since I had asked the last question, it was Henry's turn to respond, and I could see that it was difficult for him. Good!

"I don't know. She's pretty pissed off at me right now."

"I can imagine. So, what are you going to do, Henry? I think that we need to talk."

"Yeah, I guess that we do." With that, we both stood up, and started taking our plates to the kitchen. I scraped mine, and Janet's (Ha!) into the garbage can, followed by Henry doing the same with his. I resisted the temptation to snag a piece of the bitch's bacon off her plate. A quick rinse, and all of the morning plates went into the dishwasher. The cookware I had used to prepare breakfast was already in there, so I started the appliance, even though it wasn't really full. I did refill my coffee, and walked into the living room, sat down, and waited for my husband. Somehow, I felt like I had the upper hand for a bit.

He followed me in, and sat in one of the wing chairs, facing me; I had taken the couch. We had the coffee table between us, and I set my coffee cup on a coaster.

"Henry, I know that this is my fault. I'm the one who had the affair, and yeah, I thought that I had gotten away with it, but that was a long time ago. You knew back then, but you still stayed with me. I wish we'd have had this out ten years ago, and that we could have either made up, or made a clean break back then.

"But now? You've been living with me, sleeping with me, for all of this time, and I guess letting it fester within you. You say that you couldn't dump me back when it happened, because of the kids, but the kids have been gone for two years, and it's just now that you're bringing this up? If it has been bothering you this much, why didn't you say something as soon as Jenny moved out?"

One thing I knew, and kept to myself: the bitch had still been his Personal Assistant two years ago. If he had started hitting on her then, he could have gotten in some deep kimchee, even though that was before all of the Harvey Weinstein shit hit the fan. Maybe this was as much about Janet personally as it was about my affair. I knew it: I had the upper hand!

And then I didn't. "Is that asshole Brown the only guy you had an affair with?"

Gulp! There was no way he knew about my one-night stand with Michael, so I could lie my way out of this one. But one thing I couldn't do was hesitate.

"Yes, that was the only affair I had." A pause, that I really didn't need. "But I did have a one-night stand about nine years ago. That was the last time."

Henry's face seemed impassive, but I could see the tension behind it. "What was his name?" I could tell he had a struggle asking that.

"Michael."

"Michael who?"

"I don't know."

"You fucked a guy, and don't even know his name?"

"That's right, I got laid, and didn't even get his last name. Didn't that happen for you a couple of times in college?"

I thought that last bit helped my case, but I was still at a disadvantage here, and I knew it.

"We weren't married then!"

"No, we weren't, but at least you can understand not getting a full name. Anyway, he wasn't worth getting his name, and I never saw him again." Boy, that was putting it bluntly, but I was still fighting a battle here.

"And that was the last time?"

"Yes, Henry, that was the last time. I made some big mistakes, but I'm committed to our marriage, and I hope that, eventually, you can be, too."

"Why should I be? You cheated on me!"

"Yes, I did, and I regret it, regret it very much. And you were going to revenge fuck that . . . Janet, to get even with me, but people never really get even, do they?

"I mean, I was prepared for that, knew that there was nothing I could say, because I had that damned affair, and I even made breakfast for her, thinking she was still here. If you've got to get that out of your system, then go ahead and do it. You've got, I think they call it a 'hall pass,' just to get even with me, if that's what you need to get passed my affair, but I want you to get beyond it, I want you to forgive me, so that we can stay married. I love you, Henry, and I always will. Whatever you have to do, to get your mind right for us, I forgive you."

There! It was all out there! Henry would have to forgive me for my past affair, or he wouldn't. He could walk away now, with extra money in his pocket, and all that it would cost him was his wife. He could be a free man, and no longer have my stupid affair festering in his soul.

But that still left the huge problem, the hole in my soul, the one which hurt his ability to forgive my affair in the ten years he knew about it but before he told me, that my fucking libido had bottomed out after a long, miserable menopause. He complained that I was a dried up old prune, having to use artificial lube for us to have sex, and that even then, I laid there 'like a dead fish,' just 'doing my duty' to provide him with pussy once in a while.

"Henry, there's work I have to do, too. I know that my desire hasn't been there, not for a long time, and I've already figured out that I need to see the gynecologist, to see if there's anything that can be done to get my libido back. I remember when sex was good, and maybe I gave up too easily when the 'change' hit me."

"You remember when sex was good. What, with your boss?"

Ouch, that hurt! "No, I remember when sex was good with us, with us, Henry!"

"And what about with your asshole boss?"

Damn it, I had hoped he wouldn't ask that. I had to steel myself to answer him. "It was good, but it wasn't any better than what we used to have. It was exciting, because it was so illicit. But remember: we broke it off, and not because you found out." That was a little white lie; I got dumped because James' wife found out.

"Yeah? And what about the blow jobs you used to give him? The ones you never wanted to give me?"

Damn him! That hurt! "I guess that you think all I did was suck his dick. I know, you claimed that you smelled his cum on my breath, after that one party, but that was it, the only time I ever let him cum in my mouth. I have a hard time doing that, Henry, it makes me gag something fierce, but James took me to a back room and practically forced his cock down my throat. It was so wicked, 'cause I knew you were in the next room, but I still didn't like it. Are you going to want me to dredge up every fucking detail, or what?"

"Should I?"

"No, you shouldn't. I've tried to forget as much of it as I can, and I don't see how it will help matters any. But he wasn't some porn-star stud, and he wasn't any better than you are."

"Was he as good?"

Why the fuck do men ask those stupid questions? "It was exciting, it was illicit, and yeah, that part was good. And he was different, but there's no fucking scale on which women can rate the difference to tenths of a point. Remember, my choice is to be with you.

"So, here's what I'll do. I'll call for a GYN appointment on Monday, get it for as soon as I can, and see what I can do to spice up our sex life. You do whatever you have to do, get your revenge out of your system, whatever, but I want you to give us a chance again."

Henry just sat there, not saying a word. It was almost as though he wanted to be still angry with me, but it had faded.

"Tell you what," I started again, "I'm going upstairs to get my shower, and then let's take a drive up to Bushkill, rent kayaks, and take a trip down the Delaware River, like we used to do. Four hours, lazing down the river, maybe take some snacks and picnic on the shore somewhere. It's a nice day, it'll be fun, and maybe get our moods better?"

Henry didn't answer with more than a nod, but at this point, I'd take what I could get. I said, "Great," bounced up off of the couch and headed upstairs to get my shower. I had the water hot, a bit hotter than usual for me, and had my eyes closed as I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair. Then I felt it, Henry's two hands on my waist, as the water showered down on us.