Turning Towards Ohio

"I thought you said that we would spend every moment together," I told him.

"That was the plan," he said. "But my boss can't seem to do without me. Can we spend a little bit of time together and then come back for your shit? I've missed you. I've been waiting for you to come back to me for almost twenty God damned years. You'd think that spending a little bit of time with me would be more important to you than just getting some suitcases and a cheap ass rental car."

* * * * * *

Rick

It was almost too easy. But then I had to remember that I was born to do this. Bob had given me all of the information I needed to do a good job. I had her flight information both ways. I had the addresses of most of her relatives in the area as well. I also had Jason's address and I'd done some snooping. I, and through me, Bob knew some things about lover boy, that Jane didn't know. The funny thing about it is that most of the things I found out about him were public knowledge.

Somehow it seemed almost wrong that Jane didn't know that Jason was married and had a couple of little kids.

As I watched them meeting for the first time in a couple of decades, I was underwhelmed. I had trouble believing that Jane was stupid enough to cheat on Bob with a short, balding, loser. And from the way he was pawing at her in the airport I could tell that he was just oozing personality.

I pretended to dial a number on my iPhone and took several high resolution photos of Jason with his hands all over Jane's wide matronly ass. I took even more pictures of the kiss they exchanged.

I had come in on a flight two hours before Jane's so I could see the joyous occasion and take pictures.

I wore a baseball cap pulled down low over my eyes and big sunglasses. Jason had never laid eyes on me and Jane didn't know me well enough to pick me out of a crowd.

Jason had used his wife's credit card to book a room in a motel. I wonder what kind of whore Jane led him to believe she was. He'd rented the room for three nights, starting tonight. Did he really think he was going to just fuck her the first night that she came into town?

I could hear the disappointment in his voice as she told him that she wanted to go to her parents' house. They left the airport and got into a crappy car. I didn't bother following them. Bob had bought Jane's phone for her and he paid the bills. He had installed a tracking app on the phone, like a lot of parents do to their teenagers. I could follow them anywhere since like most people nowadays, Jane never went anywhere without her phone.

I had met Jane several times over the years at company events and a couple of times at parties they held at their home. I had always thought of her as being kind of ... meh! Not overly attractive, but not exactly a troll. I thought she was a good catch for a guy of Bob's age. But there were a lot of women at the plant who were much hotter that he could easily have been with. But he loved her, so I'd always been happy for him.

The funny part about all of this is that I had always considered her to be too smart and too classy to do something like this. I guess it goes to show you that we can never tell what any other person might do.

It's hard to imagine that after nearly twenty years of being married to each other, Jane decides to go off of the reservation and turn whore. It was probably one of the reasons why I tended to stay with short intense relationships, myself.

Like everyone else on earth, I needed sex. I just didn't understand all the bullshit and drama that goes along with getting it from the same person all of the time.

Where guys like Bob had to constantly tip toe through a minefield of emotional baggage and hard to fathom female idiosyncrasies, my only problem when stepping into a bar was remembering which of the available ladies I had already screwed.

Where the married guys had to worry about inducing desire for the same, rapidly degrading woman over and over again, I got to hunt for fresher and more exciting pussy any night that I wanted it.

The one place where the married guys had the advantage was certainty. Where I had to go on the hunt and worry about my batting average, they had live in pussy at their beck and call. Of course some of my married friends don't seem to score as often as I do.

I looked at the display on my iPad. Despite her protestations, Jane and Jason were headed for the motel. This was almost too easy. Just after I had found out that Jason had rented the motel room, I'd approached the desk clerk.

Before I could even give him my pitch, we were overheard by the manager.

"Let me guess, you're a P.I. right?" he asked. "You're working a divorce case, right?"

I nodded. He smiled at me. "You're in luck, Bud. I have just the room for you."

He took me to a room on the second floor. "So what do ya think?" he asked.

I looked around the room and failed to see anything that impressed me.

"Pardon me, but it looks just the same as every other shithole motel room," I said.

"Hey, what do you expect for sixty dollars a night?" he asked. "But we're not talking about the accommodations. Your quarry won't be thinking about the accommodations either. All they need is a bed and walls between them and everyone else. But this room isn't outfitted for them. It's outfitted for you. You were hoping to get into the room before they took it so you could put a couple of cameras or some bugs in here, right? You need some evidence to give your client leverage in the divorce case even though we both know what your client doesn't. The video or audio evidence we gather will not be admissible in court in any state in the God damned union."

I had to admit the guy knew his shit.

"This room is already wired for audio and video. I have seven hi-def cameras mounted all over the room. You'll get video from angles that you couldn't get if you were in the room. I'll give you a copy of the video as soon as it's over," he said.

"What's in it for you?" I asked.

"I uhm run a sort of website for people who appreciate a certain reality in their erotica," he said.

"So you want to put the video up on your smut site?" I asked. He nodded.

"You'll make a Buck selling subscriptions to the site and for copies of the video, right?" I continued. He nodded again.

"That and two hundred bucks for the room," he smiled.

"I thought you said the room was sixty bucks!" I said.

"It's sixty for them," he smiled. He held out his hand and I gave him the cash.

"Oh, if your client doesn't want the video on the net, I have to charge you five hundred dollars extra. There's a price to be paid for anonymity in this day and age," he said. "I'll give you thirty days to let them work out the legal details and if I haven't been paid, the video goes live. It usually works out well that way. If the divorce isn't going well for your client, internet fame for their cheating spouse goes a long way to making them feel better. And since they have no contact with me, they can assure the court that they are not responsible for what happened. I sometimes get a thousand to pull the video off of the net after it's been released. Of course your client can use that as leverage to get his or her way in the settlement too." I shook my head.

"You'd be surprised at what some people will give up to avoid having their parents and everyone they know see them fucking some scumbag on the internet. Careers and families have been destroyed by less," he continued.

That had been about an hour before Jane's plane landed. And at the time I was almost sure that there was no way that she'd have done it. But after what I'd seen at the airport, I wasn't quite as sure.

* * * * * *

Jane

Almost from the start, I realized that I had made a mistake. Though I had been here for less than an hour, the trip wasn't shaping up the way it had in my mind. What was that old saying? You can't go home again. I think I was starting to really understand it.

"How about this for romantic," asked Jason?

We had pulled into the parking lot surrounding a shitty looking motel on the outskirts of town. I looked at him with puzzlement all over my face.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, thinking I had missed something.

"It's the place where we first did it," he said. "Doesn't being here bring back memories?"

"Jason this isn't the place," I said. "It was the Motel 6 near the college that I was going to go to."

"Well it looks like the place," he said angrily. "You sure know how to take the romance out of things. Maybe you did grow old after all. Maybe you deserve your boring old husband."

His words had the ring of truth to them. "Maybe I do," I said. And I was telling the truth.

"I'm sorry, Babe," he said quickly. "I didn't really mean that. I was just angry. It's just that I've missed you so much. I've ached for you. And you just don't seem to care." He grabbed me and kissed me. Again the alarm bells went off in my head. I compared the way he was kissing me now with the way that he had kissed me when we were younger and our hormones were burning hot.

I suddenly realized that he really was kissing me the same way he had back then. The kisses he gave me were like kisses from a desperate man/boy with very little experience who just wanted some pussy and was afraid of being caught at any moment.

We had a little problem checking in. Obviously Jason had rented the room in advance. The clerk at the desk told him the room he had rented wasn't available. The guest who was staying in it had decided to stay for another night. He gave us another room. He claimed that it was a nicer room. I couldn't tell by looking at it.

Again the fact that he had rented the room in advance bothered me. It was as if the only reason he wanted me to come to town was so we could have sex. He was treating me more like a whore than his long lost true love.

As soon as we got inside the room, Jason pushed me down onto the bed and started pawing at me. He pulled my blouse out of my skirt and reached under it grabbing my breasts.

"I always did like sucking these big soft titties," he mumbled.

"I thought we were going to talk about the old days and catch up," I said trying to remove his hands.

"We'll do that tomorrow," he said. "I used to love the way your nipples stood up like little soldiers at attention." He licked at my tits and slobbered over them, just the way he used to. "I guess they don't do that anymore, huh?" he said.

At that moment the thought going through my mind was, 'They do when Bob licks them.' Shit, they usually stood up when Bob looked at them.

Jason had worked his other hand into my panties and had me squirming. I wasn't squirming out of desire though. I was squirming because what I was doing felt wrong.

"Come on, Jane," he whined. "We're grownups now. There's no law against what we're doing. We don't have to play hard to get anymore." He looked into my eyes in the way that used to make me melt, but all I felt was ... nothing. I was confused. I think that Jason saw my confusion as acquiescence.

He wrestled my panties down and thumbed my pussy. "Damn you got a lot of hair down there," he said. "I like a bald pussy; you should shave it for me."

"That's not going to happen," I said. "I'm a forty year old adult woman, not a twenty year old virgin."

"That's probably why you're not wet, the way you used to be," he said. "But don't worry, my lady, I came prepared." He reached into the top drawer of the table beside the bed and pulled out a tube of lubricant.

He smeared some onto me and then lined up and slammed his dick into me. I almost screamed. Not because his dick was huge or anything. If anything he was a bit smaller than Bob. I screamed because I wasn't expecting him to slam it all the way into me in one hard stroke while I was still dry.

"That's it baby," he muttered. "Ride that big dick. I'm gonna make you feel good."

I laid there on my back staring up at the ceiling and at the ridiculous face he was making as he sawed away at me. He wasn't even making eye contact with me. His eyes were tightly closed as he moaned and grunted. It took about fifteen strokes and then he stiffened and went soft.

"Speechless, huh?" he smiled.

"Pretty much," I said. I was hurt. I was disappointed and I was pissed.

He on the other hand, was getting dressed. "Come on Jane we have to go," he said. "I told you I have to be somewhere."

"You have to take me back to the airport so I can get my luggage and my rental car," I said angrily.

"Hey, why don't you stay here?" he asked. "I'll take you back to the airport first thing in the morning. Maybe we could even fool around a little before we go?"

At that moment I realized that I was the only "Fool," around.

"No, Jason," I said angrily. "I want to go to the airport, NOW!"

"Fine," he said angrily. "I wouldn't have brought you down here, if I'd known you'd become so selfish."

Even before I could pull my skirt down all the way he was heading for the door. "Hurry up," he threw over his shoulder.

Once we were back in the car he took off at a rapid pace. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. I looked over at him and saw anger in his face. His lips were tightly drawn and he didn't say a word. The speed limit on that section of freeway was 55 miles per hour. We were doing sixty eight miles per hour and the car was straining and making noises like the Enterprise at warp seven.

I half expected Scotty to come out of the back seat and tell us that we were damaging the dilithium crystals and she couldn't hold that speed.

I heard two things then, but neither of them was Scotty. The first thing I heard was Jason grumbling one word under his breath. The word sounded suspiciously like, "bitch."

The second thing I heard was a siren. Jason angrily pulled over. A cop soon came up to the window and asked him for his license and the registration for the car. He also asked for and got the proof of insurance.

"Mr. Vorhees this vehicle is not registered to you, sir," said the cop. "It is registered to an Alice Thompson. Does Ms. Thompson know that you have her vehicle?"

"Yes, she does," said Jason through clenched lips. "Ms. Thompson and I are married."

"You were speeding, sir. I'll have to write you a citation. Since Ms. Thompson is the owner of the vehicle she will have to be notified. Your insurance policy is also in her name and you two have the same address. I would suggest that you notify her as soon as possible. Drive safely, sir," he said after handing Jason a speeding ticket.

For the rest of the trip back to the airport, Jason didn't say a word. Finally when we arrived at the airport, he looked at me.

"I was going to tell you," he said. "But..."

"But you thought that you probably wouldn't get to fuck me if I knew that you were married too, right?" I sneered at him. "Just stay the fuck away from me, Jason."

I got out of his car or his wife's car and slammed the door. I walked away from him into the terminal.

I went to the rental car desk first. Luckily they were still open. I guess they had to stay open to service customers on red eye flights. I was filled with a sense of dread that I had never known before. It was more than just disappointment. It was as if the very fabric of my sanity had been proven wrong.

I wandered though airport until I finally found the luggage retrieval area. There, I saw something that disturbed me. I didn't know why at the time, but in retrospect it now seems very clear.

There on the huge luggage carousel, a machine that could easily handle hundreds of bags was one lone suitcase. It was a beautifully made and well cared for bag that had cost a lot of money. But it looked as if it had been passed by and forgotten by whoever paid so much money for it.

That lonely, forgotten bag was of course ... mine. Seeing that bag made me think abut what I had just done. In my mind, I saw myself as the bag. I was well taken care of and well loved but I ended up alone. And if Bob ever found out what had just happened, I might. I decided at that moment that I had been stupid. Not only was my husband better looking than Jason, he was more caring and more loving as well. What was I thinking?

I grabbed the bag off of the carousel just as the carousel stopped. If I had been seconds later my bag would have gone into storage somewhere in the bowels of the airport.

A few moments later, my face drawn and tight I was negotiating the streets in the rental car headed for my parents' home. I got there some time after Midnight.

Needless to say, my parents were both curious and pissed at me. "Why the hell would you show up in the middle of the night like a burglar?" my dad asked me. I knew that his anger stemmed mostly from being roused from his sleep.

My mother on the other hand got right to the point. "Where's Bob?" she asked. "Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, Mom," I said. "Bob and I are fine. He had to travel for his job. So I figured I'd come home for a visit."

"How long is he going to be gone?" she asked.

"Three days," I said. She just looked at me strangely.

"Three days," she laughed. "You could spend three days shopping. Seriously, Jane what's going on?"

"Mom, can we talk about it in the morning?" I asked. I headed up the stairs to the guest room.

As I grabbed my bag I heard my dad mumbling behind me. "It's already morning, God damn it."

"She's hiding something," said my mom. "Maybe she's pregnant again. You know how emotional she got last time."

"Shit, they certainly have enough sex for her to be pregnant. Remember when we were there for Christmas? It was unreal. They couldn't keep their God damned hands off of each other. They were going at it every fucking night. They screwed on Christmas Eve. Who does that? And they've been married for twenty years. You'd think they'd have slowed down by now," he kvetched.

"I think it's romantic and wonderful," said my mother. "Someone I know could take a lesson from them."

It was a running joke in our family that everyone slept in my room. Although there was a third bedroom in the house, my parents had long ago turned it into an office. During the Christmas holidays if there was a larger than normal number of people sleeping over, my parents put a cot in the office and others slept in the living room on one of several comfortable sofas. But the main guest room was the bedroom I had slept in as a child. Even after getting married and moving away, it was still my room.

In fact it had never been redone. My same silly posters adorned the walls. My stuffed animals and other long abandoned toys were in the closet and on the shelves. I took comfort in those familiar objects as I closed the door and broke down.

I realized then exactly how stupid I had been and now much trouble that I could be in. Facebook was obviously a tool of the devil. As soon as I got home, I intended to delete my page. I'd thought that reconnecting with old friends and seeing how they'd aged and changed over the years would be fun. But it clearly wasn't for everyone.

I had become something and someone that I had never in my wildest dreams imagined I could be. I was a cheater. I had taken something that was real and special and ruined it. Even my parents sounded as if they were jealous of what I had with Bob. Only now I had tarnished it, possibly beyond redemption.

I knew for a fact, that if Bob ever found out what I had done, that we were over. Twenty years of living with a man had told me that his pride would never allow him to get over what I had done.

I had been taken in by a fantasy. All of the things that I thought were so special were childish memories that had been amplified over time.

It's like going back to your old middle school after you've grown up. Those giant lockers from your childhood, really aren't that big. Those huge desks are actually too tiny to get your adult sized ass into. All of the things that you thought were terrifying or heavenly; just aren't. What made them seem special was the youth and inexperienced perspective that you viewed them through. But years later looking at them through the cruelly factual lens of adulthood, you see them for what they really are.