My Wife, Butch, and ME

"Yeah. You told him to turn it loose—that if the pup really loved him, he'd come back."

"Yep! And that's the way I'm going to handle this situation; I'm pretty sure this Honolulu trip you have coming up includes Butch..."

She cut me off. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Like I told you, Susan, it's gotta be your decision, but in this case I say go. Spend the four days with your lover. Use the time to decide just who you want to be with—me or him. Sorry, but both is not an option. We'll go on exactly as we have been between now and the time you leave. If during the trip you decide you still want to be my wife, tell Butch you won't see him again. Tell him to leave you alone or suffer the consequences. If you decide you want to be his wife, I'll have the legal separation papers ready to sign the day you return. I'll treat you fair in the settlement, and we go our separate ways."

I could see I'd really shook her up. I think maybe she had vastly underestimated me. Anyway, we continued just as we had been, Susan kept me well fucked except for Wednesdays and Fridays; those days she continued using the same excuses for being late, even though we both knew what she was really doing.

How could I go along with such a thing? Believe me, I asked myself that very question—my only answer had to be, 'If I still had tittle to the cow, I was sure as hell going to enjoy the milk'. "Don't forget my terms," I whispered as we kissed goodbye for what could very well be the final time.

The next few days were hell for me. Did I do the right thing, should I have simply forbidden her to go... did I this... did I that? A guy can go crazy trying to second guess a thing like that. Visions of him screwing my wife seemed to stay in my mind every waking hour, and the sleeping hours were full of dreams about the same thing. I tried going over to Louise and Joe's, hoping to forget my problems, all to no avail. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing, one way or the other, I'd have an answer soon.

Sunday I went to church like always, but instead of stopping by KFC for a chicken meal, as we often did after church, I moseyed back home—there was absolutely nothing waiting there for me, however there was nothing I wanted to do either—at least not that I could do without Susan.

The first thing I noticed when entering my house was the smell of fried chicken. Was I dreaming? No, there was a KFC bag right there on my kitchen table. Who? How? Why?

My first indication Susan was back was when a pair of hands covered my eyes, a pair of nipples pushed into my back and Susan's sweet voice asked "Guess who."

I turned to find my wife wearing nothing but a sheer gown that didn't hide a thing. "You're back?" It was a half statement and half question.

"Yep. Now let's grab a bite while we talk, and then I want you to take me to bed and fuck my brains out."

As we ate, she told me she'd made her decision; that she wanted to be just mine, if I still wanted her. She said she'd broke it off with Butch, had told him they were through and she didn't want to see him again—ever. She said he'd blew his top, showing her a side she'd never have imagined he had, but that only strengthened her resolve, and she grabbed the next flight available, praying all the time she wasn't too late.

She wasn't. I felt like a weight had been lifted off me. I pretended to have trouble swallowing a piece of chicken and excused myself to the bathroom. I used the ruse to take one of those little blue pills. I'd picked up a prescription while she was gone so that if she came back to me I was going to give her the screwing of a lifetime—and I did.

By the time Monday morning rolled around we'd tried almost everything in the Karma-Sutra—well, at least a lot of them, and we were both completely sated and sore. In fact we called in sick and slept till nine. At that time, we tried again but Susan complained of being too sore, so we just cuddled the rest of the day.

The rest of the week was just standard routine. Saturday Susan and I drove up to Atlanta to watch a Braves game; the Braves were her favorite team and we got lucky enough to see one of their few wins for the month. After a good dinner we tried the club recommended by our waiter.

We found a table, ordered drinks, JD for me and a white wine for her, and while we waited them I asked, "Can I ask you a few questions, Honey?"

A look of panic flashed across her face, but she said, "Sure, ask away."

"Have you heard from Butch since you came home?"

All of a sudden the band became awful interesting. She continued looking in that direction while she answered. "I told you that I let him know we were through." Her voice had just a bit of a catch. She probably wasn't lying, but she definitely wasn't telling the whole truth.

I wanted to ask questions, but I guess my Guardian Angel had his hand on my shoulder, for the thing that popped in my head before I even began to speak was, 'You said you forgave her; if you did you have to trust her, no matter how hard that will be. When you told her you forgave her, you wiped out everything up until that time. Make up your mind, did you forgive her or not?'

Looking at things in that, all I said was, "Okay, Baby, let me know if you need help."

I must have said the right thing, because she really laid a loving on me that night. Monday morning, bright and early, she fixed my favorite breakfast, bacon and eggs with toast. As we sat together, me wolfing my breakfast down and her nibbling at hers, it was obvious something was still bothering her.

"Are you sure you're okay Honey?"

She shook her head and broke down, tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't look me in the eye. "He, he just won't leave me alone," she stammered.

'He', had to be Butch, of course. "Tell me about what he's done now." I moved beside her, holding her in my arms while kissing her forehead and neck. I would have been kissing her face, but her hands prevented that.

"I... I told him I wanted nothing else to do with him, but he keeps calling and dropping by the office. He just won't take no for an answer. What can I do, Jack? He won't quit."

"You have his number?" She nodded. "Give it to me; I'll give him a call."

Back at the office, I quickly took care of everything that simply needed my attention. Everything else went into my 'Louise' box, awaiting her pickup. When I said I had good employees, I was serious and Louise was my right hand man, so to speak, but if I gave a damn about political correctness I guess I'd say 'right hand woman.' I had very few secrets from either her or Joe.

I'd just started dialing the number Susan had given me when Louise stepped into my office. She started to leave, but I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Wait a second. This shouldn't take long and I need to talk to you anyway. Hell, you listen to this conversation; I might need a witness later." I switched the phone to speaker.

"Butch, this is Jack."

"What the fuck do you want?"

I figured I'd try to keep this on as polite a footing as I could. "My wife told you to back off; now leave her alone."

"Fuck you, you little pussy; you were a nerd in school and now you've grown into a full blown wimp. I'm gonna take Susan from you and there ain't a damn you can do about it."

"Okay, Asshole—like John Wayne said, 'Every man oughtta do what he thinks is right,' don't say you weren't warned."

In every situation a fellow should have at least one person who thinks clearly; in this case, my person was Louise. I had no sooner hung up the phone before she was calling Joe demanding he, "Get over here as quick as you can."

"You can't go off halfcocked here, Boss. Something happens to that bastard, the cops will be camping on your doorstep."

"You don't expect me to just let this thing go, do you?"

"Course not, but I do expect you to be smart about it. Joe will be here soon, let's bring him into our plans."

Joe was an All-American linebacker during his college days and he still looked like he could suit up for the next big game. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Louise, but what kind of a man would I be If I stood by and let Joe handle this for me?"

"I'm not saying back off, Boss. I'm saying be smart, lets plan this thing out. His advantage is his background as a jock. Yours is your brains, friends, and money, so use them. We'll pay the lover-boy off, but no sense in going to jail to do it."

The more I thought about her words, the more sense they made. When her husband arrived, I locked my door and we didn't leave until we had a game plan.

Actually Joe was the one to come up with the idea. "Say, Jack," he began, "didn't you get along good with that guy, Mike Larrimore?"

"Yeah, pretty good. I helped both him and his sister with math; I'm probably the reason they managed to graduate, At least that's what he said just after graduation." Mike had been 'The bully' back then. Nobody screwed around with Mike without paying the price. "In fact, he said if I ever needed him for anything, just call."

Joe spread both palms outward. "Duh? Why not? No way will anybody tie it to you, and Mike can probably make it happen at a time the four of us are together; a perfect alibi."

I hadn't thought about Mike in years, not since I heard about the cops finding a guy lying in a parking lot with a screwdriver driven through his knee. They never did pin it on Mike—he had a dozen witnesses saying he was playing pool all night, but that was just the kind of thing anyone, who made Mike mad, could expect.

Joe handed me a slip of paper. "Mike's present number," He said. "You maybe should get you one of those throwaway phones too. They can't be traced back to you."

"How the hell do you know this sort of crap, Joe?"

He shrugged. "Let's just say us old ball players move in some strange crowds." Just before he opened the door, he turned and said, "You might want to collect up about fifteen hundred in old, small bills—fifties and below. Mike doesn't like new money." He gently closed the door behind him.

Things advanced quickly after we broke up. I took time off to run by Wal-Marts for a phone. Before I left the parking lot, I had Mike on the line.

"Do you remember telling a guy from school that he could call on you anytime?" Before he could answer, I quickly added, "We might not want names used."

He took a few seconds before answering. "Hell yeah, Bo! I remember you ; meant what I said too." I could hear him take a deep breath, "Sounds like you got some serious shit coming down the pike, Bo. Maybe we ought to meet, but someplace nobody ain't likely to see us."

"You name the place and time, and tell me the going rate."

"Aw shit, Bo—you insult me. I don't charge my friends and you are definitely on my friend list. You still like to fish?"

I admitted I did, "But I don't get much chance anymore."

"Tell you what; I got a fish pond off Old Mill Road. Can you meet me there about two tomorrow afternoon? You'll even get a chance to drown a few worms."

Mike really had a nice place for a fish camp. We greeted each other like long lost brothers and pushed out to the middle of the lake. "Ain't nobody going to hear a thing we say out here," he remarked. "Now, tell me about your problems."

"Got a stud that can't seem to get his mind off my wife."

"No shit, Bo! Who?"

"You remember Butch Andrews...?

"That Jock bastard! Yeah, I remember. I thought he was all hung up on that pretty little Susan gal..." Then it struck him, "Hey, she married you, didn't she? Seems like I heard something about that."

"Yep, that's my wife and he's become a problem again"

"Hell, man, I'll change his mind from wife to life and enjoy doing it to that bastard."

We talked and fished until almost sundown. "Well, Bo, we got enough for a good fish fry down at the West Side Biker's Club. Drop by about seven if you want to see how eating what you catch, tastes."

I declined the invitation but we left with the understanding I didn't want Butch dead, not just yet anyway, but I did want him to lose all interest in Susan. Mike assured he'd give me a call in time for me to have something to do during the event, but he didn't expand beyond the promise that Butch would still be able to walk around after he recovered.

The die was cast, all I had to do now was wait.

And wait I did—for over two weeks. During this time Susan would come home several times a week visibly upset and when questioned she admitted Butch had been calling her again. "The crazy is, Jack, I'm still tempted. Don't get me wrong—I've made my choice and I choose you, but still..." She got that faraway look again, "He was a very good lover." She sighed.

"Obviously better than me..."

"No, not better, just different."

"I don't think I understand. Am I not man enough for you? I must not be if you're so hung up on him."

By this time she was in my arms. "Let me try to explain it like this, your favorite dessert is chocolate delight, right?"

"You know that."

"But still you won't turn down a yummy peach pie, will you? See, they are both very good, only different. Now suppose you had to pick just one for the rest of your life—which one would you pick?"

"I'd probably go with the chocolate delight."

"Sure you would, but would that mean you'd quit liking peach pie?"

"No." I think I was beginning to see where she was going with this.

"Well Honey, look at it like this. You're my chocolate delight, while Butch is a peach pie. I know you aren't going to share, so I chose you to have forever, but that doesn't mean Butch can't still tempt me. It just means I won't give in to that temptation."

I wished I could be sure she wouldn't give in. Butch had already made clear his plans to steal her from me, and I had my plans in the works.

Then came the call. All he said was, "Have something to do Tuesday night." I immediately got Louise to invite me and Susan over for supper.

Susan was all excited when she got home from work Wednesday. "Did you read about Butch?" She asked.

"What about Butch?" I really hadn't heard a thing, but my imagination was running wild."

"Paper says the cops found him in the abandoned Red and White parking lot, pinned to the asphalt. That's all they printed, but a guy at work, whose brother is a cop, says he had a big screwdriver driven through his uh-you know- his sac. It was holding him to the asphalt."

Damn, she could play with it, even kiss it, I'm sure, and she can't say his nuts. Women! I'll never understand em.

"Cops have any idea who did it?"

"Nope, not from what I heard? They did say 'wife fucker' was written across his forehead in red permanent marker." Suddenly it seemed to dawn on her. "Oh shit! Do you think they'll find out about us—me and Butch?"

"Don't worry, Honey. You have a perfect alibi, me, Louise and Joe can swear you were with us." I laughed when she threw a pillow at me.

"I'm not worried about that; I'd hate for all my friends to know I was a cheater."

"Well, shit! I know; who's more important about not knowing than me."

She thought moment, and then gave me a hard look. "You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"

"What! A wimp like me? How could you even ask?" After a long moment of silence I added, "Sure gives me a good idea if you get the itch again."