Her Itch

I guess her strategy was to let me stew and to shower me with love and attention. They say a man's home is his castle. Well, I was certainly treated like a king in his castle. She enlisted the kids in her effort. I came home each night to the affection of my children. She had them primed and ready for me. She would be there holding the infant. She was the perfect wife and mother. Dinner would be ready and waiting only for my presence.

I was never asked to do a dish, make a bed, or check on the laundry. Mowing the lawn and garbage detail still fell on my shoulders but with substantial help from my son Edward. He was happy to help me, obviously under the vigorous urging of his mother. I hear others talk about their kids and wonder at the differences with mine. I know they have problems and could at times get into trouble or be difficult. Yet the facts are that Shantel was like the Pied Piper of Hamelin, she could lead our children anywhere and they would gladly follow. There is something magical about a personality like Shantel's. She makes you happy just being with her.

Still my anger simmered. Why? I sometimes ask myself. In those early days perhaps I thought I could change her. I formulated a plan like a good scientist. I worked out every detail. It was designed to humiliate her and at the same time make her so jealous that my problem would be totally resolved. They say that when it comes to women, men are stupid. How right they are. My plan was a mistake from start to finish.

My life was not all wine and roses regardless of the extramarital sex problem. I am what the administrators refer to as a research scientist. The MBA types need to put people into little boxes. I work in the laboratory of a biotech company. At the time, I was the assistant head of the lab. That doesn't sound like much until you realize the lab employs over thirty-five scientists and more than one hundred staff in all. On what is the business side of the lab there are three people above the director of the lab. There is a Vice President of Research and Development, his immediate assistant, and the Director of Human Resources. Still, where the lab was concerned, I was number two.

The business managers kept the laboratory separate from the rest of the company. We were our own little empire. But we answered to the business side of the company. They liked schedules and project reports, even though research doesn't work well with deadlines or schedules. My boss, the chief researcher and Director of the Lab, operated most of the team. They worked taking recent discoveries, ours or others, and developing products. I was left in charge of the small group actually looking for the next discovery. It was a good division of talent, but my days at work were often troubled by bureaucratic hassles. What made the job worthwhile was the money I could bring home to my wife and kids.

Rebecca Stillman was an intern. Rebecca had a biology degree but also an MBA. She had a driving ambition. She had short blond hair and crystal blue eyes. The lady stood just five feet tall with a very curvaceous little pixie body. She was always dressed professionally but with a sexy subtext. She was also in perpetual flirt mode.

Becky, as she was called, was a danger to every man in the place, but particularly to anyone who might help her career. I was mostly immune to her charms. She was not my type, and I had been and still was totally in love with my Shantel. I simply did not want anyone other than Shantel. The fact that my wife wanted other men hurt all the more because she was all I desired. Shantel's promiscuity may, in fact, have increased my desire for her.

I started my plan for revenge by flirting with Becky. She responded by shamelessly flirting back. By the time of the company Christmas party, Becky had made it clear that she would be receptive if I made an advance.

"But what about your wife?" she asked.

"We have an open marriage," I told her.

It was true, right?

"How wonderful," Becky said.

The night of the Christmas party, Shantel looked like a dream. We had attended the Christmas party for her firm the week before and had a wonderful time. She had shown me off to all her co-workers and they had treated me like a prince. My Shantel was the prettiest woman in the small restaurant where the party was held. She was at my side the whole night, as if to say 'this is my man and I love him dearly.'

My firm's party went differently. It was held in a big hotel ballroom. Shantel was still the greatest beauty in that hall, but Becky was dressed to kill and joined us at our table. I did dance with Shantel that night but made a point of dancing more with Becky. I could tell Shantel was not happy with my behavior. However, she remained the lady and never said a cross word or let on that anything was wrong.

At the end of the evening, I rose from my seat and bent down to her ear and whispered, "I'm taking Becky upstairs to the suite I rented. I will see you at home tomorrow."

I led Becky out of the ballroom to the elevators, leaving what I could see was a furious Shantel to find her own way home. In the elevator, Becky attacked me. She had her tongue down my throat and her hands on my ass.

"Oh, baby was that woman mad. You didn't tell me this was revenge sex," she said.

"Well...if you don't want?"

She answered by sticking my hand up her dress.

"I am soaking, this is so hot," she said.

There was no getting away from her even if I wanted. I was determined to go through with it just to teach my wife the lesson of how it felt. What I had not counted on was Becky. I had assumed that her flirting was her way to advance herself. I did not expect the level of sexual desire this woman had. She was insatiable.

The minute we hit the room she stripped me. There followed a ravenous blowjob. She respected my desire to use condoms and practice safe sex. But when Becky discovered I knew how to perform cunnilingus and enjoyed the practice, there was no stopping her. We literally had sex all night and into the dawn.

"So I guess this is it," she said.

"What do you mean?" I said.

"Oh, come on. Your wife owns you. This is you getting back at her. I know, I gave you a good time. But not near as good a time as I had. If you can go to bed with someone like me, and still be thinking of her, well, you need to get over your problem and learn to live with the woman who owns your heart," she said.

"Thanks, but things depend on her," I said.

Becky laughed, "You sure got that right mister. But don't expect her to give up her little something on the side. Sweets are fine, but a woman like yours periodically needs a little beefcake too," she said. "To tell the truth we all do."

When I returned home, the children were at her mother's and I had one very angry wife to deal with. I thought that I was in the right, but I was soon to be dissuaded from that erroneous position.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she said.

She was seated at the kitchen table drinking coffee. She might have been there all night, but she looked perfect. She was in one of her dark business pinstriped suits. She looked like she was getting ready to go to work, but it was Sunday morning.

"I don't understand the question?" I lied.

This only infuriated her more.

"Then you sit down and listen," she said.

I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. I felt like a small boy being called to the principal's office.

"I will not be humiliated and have your cheating thrown in my face," she said.

"You dare say that after what you've done?" I shot back

She gave a frustrated sigh.

"One, I took great pains not to throw my extra-marital activities in your face. You went out of your way to hurt and humiliate me.

"Two, you picked a woman solely to get under my skin. That short little blue eyed white girl is not only everything I am not, she is definitely not your type. Who did you think you were fooling? You want to make me jealous, pick a woman you might be attracted to."

"And three, you have sex with a slut who has obviously been spreading for every guy around. God knows what diseases she gave you," Shantel said clearly attempting to control her anger.

"I don't know how you can say I was not humiliated by your actions or that I was cheating on you. And I wore a condom," I said.

"Please. You are a very intelligent man. You cannot compare my coming home late or leaving on a discreet date with what you did last night. You went way over the top with the clear intent to hurt me.

"As for the cheating, that may not be obvious to you, but think! Is it the same? I come home hungry and eat the last brownie. You take the last brownie and throw it in the garbage because you do not want to share it. If you wanted to have sex with that woman and were responsible about it, I would understand. But you did what you did just to hurt me. That is a breach of our agreement and clear cheating.

"Wearing a condom is not enough. I don't go out and jump into bed with just anybody. I need to know them and their partners. Yes, they wear condoms, but they are also responsible sexually. They get tested for STD's and we have no unprotected sex activity unless they can prove both that they are exclusive to me and disease free. I can and do get exclusivity from my partners. That girl of yours can't say the same. Only God knows what she has been exposed to and may have given you."

The lecture went on like that for another hour, her explaining the difference between her actions and mine. Then I was ordered to shower and change, and taken off to church to pray for forgiveness for my sins. She took the kids to church every Sunday but didn't usually require me to attend. That day I did the full service and the social get-together afterward.

On the way home we drove to her mother's to pick up the kids.

"I'm going to forgive you, Robert," she said, "but I want no more trouble. I will not throw my extra-marital activities in your face and I expect the same in return. I also expect that having agreed to an open marriage you can keep your bargain. That includes only having sex with others if you have a sincere desire for that person, and then only when you have fulfilled your marital and family duties," she added.

After that Sunday, things returned to what I suppose you could call our normal. We had a loving and joyful family life. I was still treated like a king, but periodically she would let me know she would be seeing someone else. I never played around on her again because as we agreed, to do that you needed the desire and I never had it. I loved her too much. Instead, I adopted the pretense that it was not happening. Even when I knew she was out with another man, I refused to think of it.

A decade later I was still pretending that she wasn't seeing other men. I knew of course intellectually that she was. But that was like knowing the earth orbited the sun. You know it of course but are you thinking about the scientific facts as you watch a sunset? She made sure I knew the actual fact, as that was the honesty part of our agreement. The details were never discussed so it became a fact that never affected our home life.

I never wanted for sex. We made love at least four times each week. It was not just sex. We held each other and experienced each other's love and commitment. The children as they grew up came to make fun of their parents. They teased us when they knew we had slipped off to fornicate in the bedroom or some secluded spot. I think they took pleasure in knowing their parents were so much in love.

____________________________________________

Now it was the Fourth of July weekend. Edward was attending summer school. Margaret had left the week before for California to live with her birth mother and attend film school. Douglas and I were in the garage packing for a fishing trip we had planned. I knew with the other kids gone he would be feeling lonely and left out. He loved to fish, an activity I enjoyed as well. I had purchased him a new very expensive fly rod, and he was dying to get to the mountains and into a trout stream.

Shantel's silver Mercedes pulled up in the drive. I was surprised to see it. I had invited her to the mountains just as a formality. She could tolerate camping, but hated fishing. She was a beach person and she had her Fourth planned at the shore. I knew that a new man was also involved, but I never expected to see him.

Had she waited another two hours Doug and I would have been gone. But she exited her expensive car in the company of an exceeding tall, well-built black man. He had to be at least six foot five and well over two hundred fifty pounds. He looked like he spent most of each day in the gym. They walked up the drive smiling. He held out his hand as my wife introduced him.

"I would like to introduce my new friend Samuel, and this is my husband, Robert Fitzmaurice," my wife said as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

We chatted briefly. She was home she said to pack a bag for the weekend. A lame excuse. She had packed last evening and had all day to get her luggage into her car. Samuel (please call me Sam) chatted with us about our upcoming fishing trip.

"He's a personal trainer," She said.

"Oh how interesting," I said

"No, it's not, just gets you a good body if you work at it. Being a scientist is interesting and meaningful. I wish I had the brains for something like that," Sam responded. "By the way where are you guys going fishing?"

"Trout fishing in the Adirondacks," Douglas said.

"Oh, I prefer the seashore to the mountains," Sam said.

"Yes, Mom likes the beach too," Douglas said.

"Glad she has someone to share the driving," I said trying to continue the illusion of propriety for my son.

"Yes we will share," Sam said, giving me a look that said what he intended to share, and it wasn't the driving.

He was clearly looking for a reaction, but I gave him none. Shantel appeared with her bag. I knew she had packed two, but she carried only the smaller one. She must already have the larger bag in the car. Any doubt that the intent was to put me in the frame with Sam was dispelled. He took her bag and carried it to the car, and as he placed it in the trunk he gave me a friendly smile. My wife kissed me and my son, said she loved us, and then departed with another man.

The month that followed was anything but good. I forced myself to be cheerful and show my son a good time fishing. I was, however, a broken man. I saw no way I could keep my self-respect. I was a joke of a husband who had let his wife go off with another man. Shantel was home waiting for us when we returned from fishing. She was in a loving mood. As soon as she got our son off to his room for the night she wanted to drag me to bed. I blew her off. I did not want to even touch her - forget sex!

Shantel was hurt. She said nothing but she was definitely distressed. Things only got worse. Day followed day of my being even less loving and more distant.

"Please, Rob, tell me what's wrong. Did something happen?" she said.

I couldn't answer. She had crushed me, and she just couldn't see it.

We had booked Douglas into summer camp for the first week in August. It was a two-hour drive to the camp. We left early Saturday morning. On the way, everything in the car was happy. Our son was enthused with the idea of going to camp. It was the first time he would be away from home. It was rather tough letting him go like that. I refused to cry when we dropped him off, though it seemed to me like a first step toward our empty nest.

On the way back neither of us spoke, lost in our own thoughts. I decided I was being silly. I should make an effort to re-establish my relationship with my wife and lover. After all, she had long told me she would never let it come to loving anyone else. And then she suggested we have dinner and go dancing at La Pera.

The first guy to approach our table was a tall white asshole. He was very smug and sure of himself. He asked Shantel to dance as if I wasn't there. She accepted just as if I wasn't there. She proceeded to dance very close to him. As soon as the ice was broken she was soon gathering dance partners. I tried to break the flow by asking her to dance.

"I don't want to dance with you," she said.

It when on for hours. The men were soon feeling her up quite openly. She was rubbing herself against them every chance she got. It was as if she were deliberately trying to see how far she could push me. Finally, she came back to the table with a big black dude.

"I'm leaving now with my friend," she said. "I'll see you at home."

That tore it. It was over as far as I was concerned. She'd broken every rule we had. I went home only long enough to pack a bag, then headed out to my lab. I was the head of the lab now. We didn't run twenty-four hours a day, but often staff worked long hours with a particular experiment. We had cots available for sleeping, and showers, gym, and cooking facilities. Some researchers were wont to live in the place for weeks at a time. I was never one of those - my family was far too important to me.

Now I simply moved into my office in the lab. I pulled a cot into the office and settled in. There was plenty of work I could do. My phone rang at two a.m. It was Shantel and I didn't answer. A text followed, "Where are you? Don't be childish, call me."

That was it! I knew her - she would call and text only once a day. Eventually, she would stop, and then we could end this as she had promised without rancor. Was I upset? I was devastated. I cried that first night like a baby, but I was determined to finally start acting like a man.

_____________________________________________________________

As I came out to my car to go to dinner Wednesday evening I saw her leaning on my Camry. She had her silver Mercedes SL400 blocking my car into its slot. She was dressed for the kill in a tight gold lame dress that hugged her spectacular figure and was cut far too low and far too short. In that dress, she was a golden goddess, come to get me in her silver chariot.

Over the years, my earnings were always very high. We tended to use the commissions Shantel earned as fun money, an expensive car for her or a great vacation for the family. Now with a divorce coming and three kids still to put through college that seemed imprudent.

"Got Ya!" she said as I approached.

"What do you want?"

"Came to take you to dinner."

"Why?"

"So we can talk and I get a chance to explain myself. After twelve years I think I'm entitled to that."

"We had a deal. If I couldn't take it, we were to part without recriminations."

"Yes, but like I said after twelve years I have earned the consideration of a parting conversation over dinner."

"You may not see it my way, but after Saturday night I think I owe you nothing."

"Ok, you're mad. I was stupid. Now is dinner going to kill you? I bet you were going somewhere to eat anyway," she said.

I hesitated. After all, what was the harm? She couldn't change my mind with a dinner.

"Get in the car," She said.

Shantel always drives too fast, but tonight she didn't need to. Valentine's is only a few block from the lab, in the old section of town. I groaned when I saw where she had taken me.

Valentine's has the finest Italian food. The restaurant is a celebration of food. It's a place for lovers, with its dark high-backed booths and its intimate atmosphere. But mostly it's slow. A meal at Valentine's takes forever, The Valentine family is proud of their slow service.

"You don't play fair," I said.

"Baby, with what I have to lose fair is something I cannot afford."

We were seated in a booth well in the back of the restaurant. The place was two-thirds empty on a Wednesday evening. Shantel insisted on ordering for both of us.