Uber Lucky

"We barely got through the door and she was pulling my pants down. She blew my dick like it was the last cock left on Earth. Later, after I'd laid the pipe to her, she kept babbling about how it had to be a one-time thing. That she had a boyfriend back in Sydney who could never know about what she got up to when she was in Melbourne."

At that moment his monologue was interrupted by an incoming text on his phone. Melbourne must be the place to go, I decided. Seemed like everyone but me went regularly. Lexie certainly did—every long weekend she headed down in order to visit her gran.

"Excuse me," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips as he read the message. "Like I said, she was absolutely gagging for it. Just like she is now. Wants to know if my flight arrived on time. Says she's waiting for me in her prettiest pink nightie." He laughed. "She won't have that on for long if I have my say."

I wanted to gag at his cockiness. The guy clearly thought he was God's gift to women.

"In fact, if I have my way, she'll be naked for the entire week."

I forced a laugh and a nod, using the need to change lanes as an excuse not to speak.

"She's gotten rid of her boyfriend for the week and I intend to take full advantage of his absence. She'll be walking bowlegged by the time I'm finished with her. I intend to go home with a sore dick and an empty ball sac."

"Um, it doesn't bother you that she's already in a relationship? That she's cheating on her boyfriend with you?"

Dick Stroker, as I'd silently dubbed him, merely shrugged. "Not up to me to be the morality police. With sluts like her, if she wasn't cheating with me, she'd be cheating with somebody else. Hell, according to the other guys, she's done half the company, so why should I deny myself such a hot piece of ass? The bird is a bit of a nympho, if you ask me. She couldn't get enough the last time we hooked up. Every time I came, she gave me all of five minutes to recover and then she was sucking me, trying to get me hard again. Besides, despite telling me our night had to be a one-time thing, she's been texting and emailing me for a month, wanting a repeat."

"Lucky you."

"Too right! Hope she waxed that pretty blonde pussy of hers like I asked."

I coughed, choking on my own breath.

Dick laughed. "Have I shocked you, man?"

I nodded, putting on my indicator. He sure as hell didn't sugarcoat it. His crassness went beyond locker room talk and mildly repulsed me.

Dick laughed again. "Hey, it's just guy-talk. Right?"

"Sure. Whatever you reckon."

Dick nodded. "I'm even hoping she'll invite her neighbor in for a threesome. She's apparently a bit of nympho too. The blonde on her own would be worth using up a week's worth of my annual leave, but a threesome with two hotties, well..."

A sick seed of fear bloomed in the base of my belly. I fought against its need to grow and multiply, its need to overwhelm and take over. Nigh on three years of loving and trusting Lexie at war with a growing list of coincidences.

Surely not? Surely, she wouldn't? Not my sweet Lexie. What had I ever done or said that would warrant her treating me like this? Why would she want to? We were happy, weren't we? Hell, we were getting married as soon as I finished my degree in November. In three short months.

The loyal fiancé in me denied she was capable of such betrayal, but the more pragmatic, analytical side of my nature, the side my engineering studies cultivated, analyzed the month since she'd returned from the conference. The month where she'd run hot and cold, one minute almost gushing in her loving, the next distant and short tempered. The month where, despite the mood shifts, she'd been more aggressive in bed. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I saw a pattern. Every trip to Melbourne precipitated a change in behavior in Lexie. Sometimes the moodiness lasted only a week or two, this last trip it had lasted a month and counting. In the past, I'd always put it down to concern over her beloved gran.

And then my inner battle was over.

With a few words, Dick ended my internal war.

"Her nickname amongst the guys is Flexie Lexie, 'cause, man, that girl is flexible. Fairly tied herself into a pretzel the last time we hooked up."

Sounds like a train speeding past a platform roared in my ears. An invisible clamp encased my chest making breathing impossible. Years later, when I looked back on the moment, I would never know how I managed to keep my hands on the wheel and avoided causing an accident.

"We're almost there, Rich. What street number?" My voice sounded strange to my own ears, but a brief turn of the head showed Dick behaving normally and checking his phone again.

"Number 28, unit 7."

If I'd had any remaining doubts about Lexie's duplicity, Dick had just destroyed them. Confusion and anguish washed through me like a tidal wave. Why? Why would she do this to me? To us? I was loving and attentive. I was supportive. Sure, I had some habits that annoyed Lexie but nothing to warrant this. The degree I was on the brink of completing would see me into a well-paid job with great career potential, even the possibility of working overseas which was one of Lexie's dreams. When we were ready, she'd be able to give up work and raise our babies with no money worries hanging over our heads.

I felt like turning the car around and driving in the opposite direction but the compulsion to see Lexie's betrayal through to the end kept me on course, as if I were the fish and her betrayal the line reeling me in. I didn't understand the compulsion. Was it masochism? Self-destructiveness? Was it to remove any and all doubt—hell, that was already accomplished. Perhaps it was self-preservation; once seen there would be no unseeing. No being able to allow her to fool me with lies and half-truths. No being able to succumb to her pleadings, which, I suspected, would be many.

"Cool. I'll have you there in about five minutes." I spoke the words, marveling at my ability to speak at all with the turmoil raging in my guts.

Dick didn't reply. One quick look told me why—he was flicking off a text. I couldn't read it all but saw enough to need to swallow the bile that had risen in my throat.

I pulled to the kerb, killing the engine, and climbed out. I strode to the back of the car on shaky legs and retrieved Dick's suitcase.

"Here. Let me help you with this. You've got me curious about this hot, nympho blonde. Mind if I get a perve of her in her pink nightie to see me through the rest of my boring shift?"

Dick, the jerk, laughed. "No probs, man. Feel free to grab an eyeful."

"Thanks." I gave him what I hoped passed for a smile. "Lead the way."

Dick's walk was in keeping with his attitude—cocky. With his laptop bag slung over his shoulder he strutted up the path leading to the apartment block entry. I followed with his suitcase and if looks could kill I'd have turned the guy to ash.

But he was probably right. If not him, it would almost certainly be some other walking dick. If what he'd said was true, there'd already been a long line of dicks.

Lexie's apartment was on the second floor. It took every ounce of self-discipline to wait while Dick the Wanker figured it out for himself and found the ancient elevators.

With each passing second anguish morphed into rage. Not the rage that burned and scorched like a forest fire leaving devastation in its wake. No, I felt cold inside. Cold all over. Cold as Artic ice. With each pulsing roar in my head another shard of ice broke free and coursed through my veins.

I was glad for the ice—it kept the confusion and anguish at bay. Time for them later, when I was alone. I was glad of the ice water of hatred flowing through my body, for hatred of Lexie it was, hatred for her lies, for her deceit. The icy rage felt good. Empowering. So much better than the crippling emotions of pain and betrayal.

The elevator creaked and groaned. Dick Wanker muttered under his breath. And I waited, silent.

The doors slid slowly open. Dick sighed impatiently. "God this contraption belongs in a museum. Another good reason to not leave her apartment the whole week."

Dick looked left and right and again I had to exert restraint and not direct him to Lexie's door.

And then we were walking, thankfully in the right direction.

At Lexie's door, I almost laughed. Dick ran a hand through his hair, straightened his clothing, and then adjusted his crotch. I half expected him to check his breath.

He rapped his knuckles on Lexie's door three times. The sound of the last knock had barely died when I heard Lexie's reply.

"Coming!"

Even through the door I discerned her breathless excitement.

The wait seemed long, but in reality, was but a few moments. I stood slightly to the side as the door swung open revealing Lexie posing in a pink, gauzy baby-doll negligee. Again, I almost laughed. To Dick, perhaps, she appeared sexy with her boobs and legs on display and everything in between broadly hinted at. To me, she merely looked ridiculous and contrived.

"Hey, lover," she breathed, looking at Dick. I stepped to the side, putting myself within her line of sight. "I've been waiting—"

Lexie's gasp took Dick by surprise. He looked down, checking, I suspected, if he'd spilled something on himself during the flight.

"You've been waiting," I prompted.

Lexie remained silent, staring at me in wide-eyed horror.

"What?" Dick turned and looked from Lexie to me and back again.

"Here, let me help you, Flexie Lexie. You've been waiting for Mr. Dick Stroker here to come and spend a week with you pounding you into the mattress. Am I right or am I right? I can't help noticing how apt his name is. Fabulous coincidence, don't you think? Almost poetic."

Again, Dick looked confusedly between Lexie and myself. "Dude, what?"

As if in slow motion one of Lexie's hand rose to cover her mouth while her other reached for me.

"Why, thank you, Lexie. Yes, I would like the engagement ring I gave you in love and trust returned seeing as neither applies any longer."

I grasped her extended hand, slipping the ring from her finger, shoving it in my jean pocket. I mocked her with the smile she said she loved before taking a step back.

"I've held up proceedings long enough. I'll leave now and let you two lovebirds to get on with your planned fuck-fest. Happy fucking, Flexie Lexie and Dick Stroker."

As I turned and walked away I heard Dick Wanker asking Lexie who I was and what the hell was going on. She blubbered something incomprehensible. Good. She was crying. I hoped the traitorous bitch did a whole lot more of it. I hoped regret ate out her heart like acid. I hoped remorse curdled her guts.

I made it to my car, surprised at my calm. It all seemed so surreal. One day, I was one half of a loving couple planning a late spring wedding less than three months away, the next a single man. One day, I was a man who thought he was loved and respected. The next, one who had to face he was looked upon with contempt, for contempt was the only interpretation possible for her actions. How and why Lexie's feelings had changed I would never know, and after her ongoing betrayal I didn't care to ask her. How would I know if her words were truth or merely self-serving lies?

On autopilot, I put the car into gear and flicked on my indicator. With a last check over my shoulder I pulled out. I heard my name called. No, screamed. In the rear-vision mirror I saw Lexie run barefoot down the footpath, still clad only in her barely-there nightie, tears streaming down her face.

I smiled, grimly this time. I liked her this way—in my rear-view mirror.

WEEKS PASSED WITH Lexie following what I came to think of as the Cheater's Guidelines. She phoned, she sent text messages, cluttered my inbox with emails, and hounded my family, urging them to get me to talk to her. She covered all the usual bullshit along with bleating about all the cancellation fees and forfeited deposits her parents were upset about.

I ignored it all.

The fact that neither her mother or father contacted me, or my parents, directly told me they at least suspected why a previously besotted fiancé had suddenly called off the wedding.

My mother, I think, was as devastated as I was. For all of Lexie's homemaker shortcomings, Mum still loved her. Heck, Mum had loved all my girlfriends. She'd seen them all as the daughter she'd never had. Lexie was no different. To her credit, despite her feelings, she never once urged me to listen, let alone forgive, Lexie. The worst she did was tell me, for my own sake, that at some point I'd have to speak to Lexie, so I could have what she called closure. Personally, I felt actions spoke louder than words, and the retrieval of the engagement ring had spoken loud enough about the closure of my relationship with Lexie.

Ideas of revenge simmered. I didn't want her dead or even maimed. I wanted her to live a long life, one where she had plenty of time to regret her choices. Regret her actions. Regret her loss. I wanted her life to be long and miserable. I wanted her to be sad and lonely. I wanted her to pine for what she'd once had, for what she so wantonly threw away.

I fantasized about her being devastated again and again by her partners doing the dirty on her. I pictured her face, the look of horror and pain, when she once again walked in on her current partner screwing another woman. Oddly, it was never my face or body I saw pounding away at the other woman.

When I woke from dreams of her loneliness and misery, dreams where she was filled with remorse for what she'd done to me, to us, dreams where she longed to return to a time of innocence and happiness, I smiled, feeling no guilt. "Karma," I thought. "Karma will one day bite her on her promiscuous ass."

AS PER MY mother's repeated urgings regarding closure—personally, I thought it a bunch of psychobabble mumbo-jumbo—I agreed to meet Lexie for a coffee.

Stirring sugar into my coffee, I looked around the small café, pleased with my choice for our first face-to-face. As I lifted the cup to my lips, Lexie came through the doors. Trust her to ruin that first blessed sip of liquid heaven. I watched as she paused in the entryway while she looked around the room.

Once she spotted me, she flashed one of her big smiles. I looked for signs of nervousness and couldn't find any. Was she really that confident? Perhaps, she thought smiling prettily was all it would take to lure me back into the fold. That and wear what she thought was a sexy outfit. I concealed a smile—each item had been selected to highlight her considerable assets. Little did she know her considerable assets no longer had the ability to move or arouse me. It amazed me how little attraction I felt for her. Her actions had managed to dissolve three years of loving and lust in less than a day and nigh on eight weeks later I felt even less drawn to her. Now, instead of seeing sweetness and beauty, I saw vanity and selfishness. Instead of being charmed by generosity and humor I was repulsed by accomplished lies and wanton betrayal. It was like plucking what looked to be a juicy red apple from a tree only to find when you bit into it, it was rotten and worm-ridden inside. Suddenly, you lost your appetite for apples. I'd lost my appetite for Lexie.

Had she been a lady, I'd have acted like a gentleman and stood and pulled out her chair. As it was, my remaining seated helped me avoid her attempts at a hug. Instead, she brushed her tits over my bicep. Another sign of her planned tactic to seduce me. I refrained from shaking my head. I'd never thought her dumb before, but, clearly, she was no tactician. Sex was what had landed her into the mess she was currently in and most definitely not the tool to win me back with. She'd have done better to use her brain and do her best to convince me of her remorse and earnestness.

"Oh, Jamie. Thank you for seeing me. I've missed you so much. I have so much I need to tell you," Lexie gushed.

It took all I had not to cringe. For a split second I considered abandoning my promise to my mother to listen to what Lexie had to say. Mum was certain that one day I'd be glad I'd given Lexie the opportunity as I would supposedly be left with no uncertainty, no unanswered questions in my heart. That presumed Lexie would be truthful, which I doubted.

"I'm here. I'm listening. I don't have a lot of time so please say what you have to say so we can both move on."

Seeing hurt flash across her features gave me a sense of satisfaction I wasn't particularly proud of, but I can't deny I enjoyed. I really did want her in my rear-vision mirror.

"Please don't talk about moving on, Jamie. Please forgive me. We're meant to be together. I know that as much now as I did on our first date."

"Really?" Before I could say another word, Lexie barreled on.

"It's just that it hit me—our wedding was only three months away and I'd never sewn any wild oats and then Tiffany said I'd best do it now while I was young and not later when we had a family. I never intended for you to find out and I thought what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you. You have to believe I love you. I want to spend my life with you."

It struck me, she was implying her week-long fuck-fest with Dick Stoker was her first trip down the infidelity highway. That pissed me off. Even now, she couldn't be honest.

"Really? You have a funny way of showing that. Since when did introducing a third party, which fucking around does, a great romance make? Do you think if Romeo had caught Juliet in bed with Mercutio, he'd have been understanding and agreeable if her excuse was, 'I'm young. I need to sow some wild oats. I'll just screw him when you're out of town. Don't worry I'll be discreet.' Is that reference too high brow for you? How about your favorite Twilight character, Bella Swan? Do you think Edward would have thought it okay when he walked in on her sucking Jacob's dick if she said to him, 'Don't be hurt. I only screwed him when you were off hunting for the week.' So please, don't insult my intelligence by spouting a load of shit about loving me and us being destined for each other."

And so it went with Lexie spouting all the usual excuses and rationalizations. One by one, I checked them off in my mind. I made counter arguments, but Lexie kept to her script, ignoring anything that didn't suit her case. Had she not been so intent on mounting her defense she would have noticed my lack of emotion.

"You cheated on me, Lexie. No matter how you try and justify it, it doesn't change the fact you cheated. You went behind my back and screwed another man. You cheated. Cheated? That doesn't sound harsh enough for what you did. It totally minimizes what you've done. It's like putting what you did on a par with peeking at the answers when we play Trivial Pursuit, which, by the way, I know you do. Ironically, I used to think it was cute. Stupid me for not seeing it for the character flaw it was. Cheated? Christ, the more I say it the more I hate that word. Who, the hell, came up with that term for what you did? Probably another cheater. Someone who was afraid to call a spade a spade. Someone who thought using more truthful words were too harsh, words like liar, traitor, and backstabbing murderer."

"What? I didn't murder anyone!"

"Not someone. Something. I've sat here and listened to all your bullshit excuses and rationalizations. If I were to believe you, what you did was no worse than sneaking an extra chocolate for yourself. As long as I didn't know I wouldn't be hurt or offended or feel I'd missed out. What you've done is so much worse than cheating. You murdered us. You killed our future, our plans, our dreams, our life together. You lied to the person you have spent years professing you love. You stabbed me in the back. You betrayed the team that was us. You and me against the world? Remember? You betrayed that, and by that betrayal you murdered us. So, yes, you are a murderer."