Like Kind Exchange Pt. 01

This story doesn't have much sex. Like many of my stories it's about honest people who have run into dire circumstances. If that doesn't sound like your cup of tea you should move on instead of making yourself miserable, which is the complete opposite of what I intend when I post here. All three parts are written.

Like Kind Exchange

What the hell had she done? Sandy had always held herself to a higher standard. How had she made a gaff so lame it was laughable. Predictable mistakes were for someone else, Sandy had discipline, she had forethought. Lord knows she didn't go there looking to fall, or thinking she was in position to. This was so trite, and that was a word that had never applied to her ... before.

The word certainly applied to both her deed and how it played out. Sandy couldn't believe it: she'd cheated! She hated what she'd done. This was a hallmark movie, not real life. She'd gone to the company Holiday party at a prestigious downtown hotel ballroom and got drunk. Worse she'd fallen in with a guy mostly because of his looks. If she was going to fall, it should have been for some deep-rooted psychological issue that finally surfaced and kicked her in the teeth; something overpowering that she never saw coming. Something she could identify and guard against from now on. But she fell in with him because he was handsome? What was she, some desperate waif that threw herself at men she could never hope to keep? Sandy was formidable and good looking, frankly a head-turner even after three kids.

And dammit, the guy had more going for him than his looks. While Sandy always thought the younger man was hot, he was successful too. Sandy swore at herself. Great, now she was checking him out for husband material instead of being skin-deep shallow. The problem was she already had a husband and a damn good one. One that formerly fit the same descriptions she just applied to her most recent bedmate. Most recent? Dear God, how far she'd fallen! What was she going to do?

Sandy reviewed what she could remember. The situation had snuck up on her. She'd had a good year and was going to receive a nice bonus. Exactly how nice had been revealed to her earlier at the party. She was partying with abandon afterwards. Somewhere in the revelry she realized she could have this younger man. There was a bonus for her increasingly inebriated brain there too: a very hot commodity, he would be a big feather in her besotted ego's cap. Which made her feel even better! She felt great, just over forty she didn't think she'd lost her mojo, but this was proof she still had it!

Sandy was pretty sure the hazy time after that discovery was her downfall. She was already well into her cups. She normally would have stopped drinking, but the revelation on her mojo levels put steam in her stride, and she'd kept pace with the party. At some point the two of them were alone and he made the offer again. At the time she couldn't think of a reason why not. How could that be? How drunk had she been? Now all she could think of were amazingly good reasons why she couldn't go to his room. But at the time not being able to shoot down the idea made her feel so free. Why not indeed? This was going to be a treat! And damnit, she'd earned it.

Earn it she did! Sandy felt dizzy thinking of how she'd jumped to the challenge. She had a great time, and heaven help her, she insured her partner did too. That made her feel more guilty than anything. She'd been enthusiastic to please. She was good in bed and wanted him to know it. She was competing for rank in her younger lover's memory.

Hours later Sandy woke up feeling terrible. Her head hurt, her eyes burned, her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth. Suddenly she realized what she'd done. Matters became worse as she found herself still in bed with her new boytoy! She snuck off to the bathroom, sat on the toilet, and let the horror have her.

Mark! Oh God! What would her husband think? Sandy felt the bile hurl itself from her throat. She turned her head just in time to wretch into the shower. Some splashed back on her after exploding on the far shower wall. She turned on the water to wash away her misgivings. She stepped into the tub and crumpled to the floor to wretch again. Mark, this would kill him! He practically worshipped her. Sandy had thought that was a two-way street, she'd never met a man she respected more or made her swoon more than her Mark. Except Sandy couldn't imagine her husband taking advantage of some drunk coworker no matter how hot she was. The thought made her more ill than she'd been. So did her next few thoughts. This was the first time she'd been to a social event without him. Suddenly horrified she feared Mark may believe this was how she behaved when she traveled for work. This was going to fill Mark with doubts about her.

What of her choice of mattress workout partner: younger and hotter. Yeah, this wasn't just trite, it was vapid. This went beyond Sandy though; those were age-old threats to a mate. Mark always had a unique effect on her, taking her normal emotions to an entirely different level. She saw how she made him feel; she'd always taken Mark's breath away. His reaction to her made her feel completely exceptional, like a woman on a higher level, a goddess, a position she knew she didn't deserve, but thrilled at his honest reaction. How would Mark think his wife saw him now? Would he think she felt he was over the hill? Was she about to trade him in on a newer model? Was he no longer desirable? Was she merely tolerating him? The terrible questions just didn't stop. While her actions made her disgusted with herself, thinking of the impact on Mark made her feel much worse! Sandy loved her husband!

Mark normally would have escorted her to the party, but he was finishing out a project he'd been killing himself over for a bonus. Three kids and their mortgage had killed every hobby he'd ever dreamed of. Sandy had really wanted an old Victorian house that he'd warned was a money pit. Now facing college expenses, Mark was on a financial treadmill doing all he could.

Sandy checked her phone. She'd been efficient as usual; apparently, she'd destroyed all their lives by 2 AM. Mark knew she was at the holiday party. He knew it would run late but this was pushing credulity. Mark surely expected to hear from her before now. Sandy stepped out of the still running shower to quickly call home. Mark picked up on the second ring relieved to hear her voice. He could hear she was terribly relieved to hear his. Sandy explained she got drunk and used one of the company rooms instead of driving home. Mark confirmed she was alright now. Sandy confirmed she was sick but safe. Mark told her he'd been very upset saying he'd called the hotel. They told him his wife's company had booked several rooms, but they didn't know who was in them, meaning there was no way to confirm she was safe at the hotel. He was happy to hear she was safe having been sick himself with worry. Apologizing profusely Sandy explained she was sick with hangover.

Sandy managed to keep it together while talking to her husband. Hearing Mark's voice filled her sails, he'd always had that effect on her. She said a silent prayer of thanks; while she'd enjoyed her gymnastics last night her partner simply didn't have the effect upon her that her husband did. Right on que her husband thanked her for calling. She broke down explaining she was in tears for worrying him so, which was true though more for other reasons.

Sandy calmed herself after the call, stepping back into the shower to wash her hair and giving her body one more vigorous rub down. She turned the temperature to almost scalding. If she could have, she would have molted out of her unclean skin.

Then she walked out of bathroom and looked at the sleeping form of the handsome younger man she'd shared the bed with. Her lips trembled; tears fell from her cheeks onto her full sore breasts. Damn, he must have given them a real working over. A terrible thought occurred to her.

Sandy retreated to the bathroom to check herself in the mirror for marks. Her breasts were blushing, but they were also rubbed red. So was her ass. She wondered if he'd simply grabbed her there or actually spanked her; she couldn't remember most of their time together. Fortunately, the redness wouldn't last for more than a few hours. She checked assiduously for little hickeys, marks, or scratches, and found none. She restarted the shower. She hadn't stopped crying the whole time. She bathed again, rubbing herself harder than she'd probably been groped during the sex last night. Cleaning her sore private parts, she had no doubt she'd given her all. Other convincing evidence was the way the bed was torn up and the way the man stretched across it: they'd put in a command performance. The smile on his sleeping face was a tip too.

What was she going to do? Weighing her options Sandy found she didn't have many. She both loved and respected her husband except last night wasn't congruent with either. Although she'd never done anything remotely similar before, this single time would hurt Mark and change his love for her. She hated both notions. But she couldn't imagine keeping this from him, or the terrible result if she hid it and he found out one day. Sandy knew she had to face the music.

She picked up her phone again. She punched the button for her husband.

His groggy voice cleared quickly hearing his wife's voice. "Sandy? Is everything okay?"

"Listen Mark, I need you to do something for me. Call in sick today. We have to talk. Get the kids to school. We'll have time, all day, to figure this out."

"He was wide awake now. "Sandy, hang on. I'll be there as quickly as I can. I'll take care of everything. What's wrong, honey?"

"Me. I think I've gone wrong, Mark. My car is here. I'll be able to drive soon. I'll be fine by morning. The timing will work for us; you get the kids to school, and I'll be home before you're back. I'll explain everything."

He paused for emphasis, "Are you in trouble baby? I'll be there, I can take care of everything."

"Mark, listen very carefully to me. Yes, you will take care of everything, but don't come here. Keep the kids in bed and stay with them. I'll be on my way home before you'd get here anyway. I've scotched things up, baby. No one is more important to me than you. You know how I love our kids; I love you more. Because of my actions, you're going to be the only one that can take care of it all. I've made it so I can't. I wish more than anything this was on me to fix. It should be, but that's not how it works, dammit."

"Sandy where are you? I'll be there in a flash." His words were laced with urgency.

Hers were drowning in "it's-already-too-late". She kept her tone level, hoping to calm him, "No Mark, you aren't listening. Have you heard what I've said?"

"Yes," he answered quietly.

"Then stick to my plan. Give me that much trust. I'm in no danger. I'm still feeling my booze a little, but I've been sick recently and all the adrenaline has me mostly sober. I've made a complete and utter fool of myself. We want to sort this out at home, not here, or in the car."

Mark was listening intently. Sandy did seem in control of her situation. She wasn't prone to exaggeration. What had she done? He knew she went to a work party. Also, that she'd gotten so drunk she had to use one of the rooms the company rented for just that sort of situation. Maybe she'd been too drunk too publicly, which didn't seem like her. Neither did getting drunk in the first place. Maybe she'd said something to the wrong person. That one made some sense. Maybe she'd thrown up on a bigwig. Mark began to think she'd compromised her career. That would be unfortunate, she'd worked hard for her position and was darn good at her job! She could find another if what she'd done wasn't too spectacular. She wasn't in jail, so she hadn't knocked the President down the elevator shaft. The timing of losing her good salary was bad with their oldest child on their way to college later this year. It sounded like a sticky situation, but they'd find a way to weather the storm. Mark trusted his partner.

Mark thought of Sandy. She was his dream girl. She still made his heart race when she entered the room. She'd taken his breath away when they'd first met. She'd noticed and was taken with his response. That meeting propelled their relationship from the start. Sandy loved that she'd taken his breath away. Mark loved that she still did. That was how he knew he'd protect her with his dying breath. He wasn't sure what the problem was, but he'd find some way to protect her.

Sandy walked out of the bathroom in a towel. She'd spent enough time thinking things through to have air dried. She stood in the light of the bathroom looking at the sleeping form in the bed, a man she knew thoroughly biblically now. She only remembered tiny snippets, but they were powerful. Dismayed she thought, 'If this had to happen, why couldn't it have been a sloppy half-assed production that neither of us would want to remember?' But dammit, they'd made beautiful music together; it would have made a great porn flick. They made it in spectacular fashion several times, checking off the best pages of any of the top flight sex manuals. Hell, they could have been the manual's illustration team for crying out loud.

Their mattress gymnastics made the situation so much worse. How had Sandy let herself go so thoroughly and so far? Why had she thrown herself into her work? "Why" was the question that kept popping into her aching head. Finally, she asked herself a "how" question: how was she going to keep her precious family together?

When she came out of her fog her paramour was awake and looking right at her. He'd obviously been watching her for a while.

Seeing her expression, he spoke gently, "Buyer's remorse, eh? I'm truly sorry. I'm sorry to have caused that. I'm also sorry because you're probably mad as hell at me. I know the code: men aren't supposed to prey on drunk women. I have a two-part defense. I was drunk myself, and frankly I've always thought you were wonderful. I know you hate me now, and I'll be completely accountable. I'll even transfer elsewhere in the company if you want. I'll make any sort of apology you need, even to your husband. I'll even let him have a few free shots at me. I promise only to retaliate against him to facilitate a needed escape."

Sandy appeared ready to vomit again.

He winced then added, "You weren't merely a notch on my bed post. You may hate it, but I'll always remember last night fondly. Extremely fondly. I truly think you're a wonderful person. Which is why I'm so, so, sorry I'm causing you such agony this morning."

He turned on the light causing Sandy to clutch up the towel around her. They both knew it was a little too late for that, but he'd honor her wishes turning to face the wall. "Don't worry, I won't look anymore. I think our clothes are all over the room. Do whatever you need to leave, I'll keep my eyes on the wall. Just let me know when you're going and what you need from me going forward. I promise you'll have it. I'm not a bad man and I have never been with a married woman before. I just couldn't pass up being with you; I've always had a thing for you."

Sandy thought it unfair he wasn't a smarmy bastard. She wanted to be able to hate him and blame him for taking advantage of her. Instead, she'd always held him in high regard. He was great at his job, treated people well, and damn, the man was gorgeous. Last night he didn't treat her like a hooker, though he'd certainly put her through the paces -- deliciously. Last night was about passion and most certainly attraction. But there'd been plenty of attractions in the past and she'd never succumbed, never come close. Not even with this man, who had always been ... a perfect gentleman. Yeah, right up to the point where the two of them teamed up to make war on a mattress. It was a separate injustice this man wasn't somebody she could feed to her husband to allow him revenge.

She clenched her eyes tightly thinking, 'Damn, if Mark requires that of me, I'll have to feed this man to him. To do right by my husband I can't afford to think about this man kindly at all.'

Sandy hurriedly collected her clothes and retreated into the bathroom. Mentally cratered she triple checked while dressing to ensure she didn't make some fashion faux pas to tip onlookers to her state and recent activities. Her shirt wasn't on inside out. She hadn't mismatched the buttons. She got her hair looking acceptable instead of freshly ravaged. She wasn't sure how she got her eye liner or lipstick right with her hands shaking.

Sandy emerged from the bathroom heading straight to the hotel room's door. She wasn't sure what to say. "Thanks for a nice night" was defiantly out, so were any sort of platitudes. While this was intensely awkward, Sandy knew it was nothing compared to the talk that awaited her at home. She stammered out, "G-Goodbye," then quickly opened and shut the door behind her.

Sandy was momentarily dazed to find herself in an empty hotel corridor. Were they always this bright? It seemed strange to be there without any luggage. She'd only come for a Christmas party, intending to drive home afterwards. Everything was normal yet out of kilter. It was the damndest thing. It actually made her feel dizzy.

Sandy went down the hall appraising herself for driving. She felt weak and shaky. It was nerves, she no longer felt the effects of alcohol. However, that didn't mean she was fit to drive. Damn, what she wouldn't give for a piece of toast and a cup of coffee. As she exited the elevator into the lobby, she was aware she was putting too much effort into walking a straight line. Forget wanting, she needed that cup of coffee and just some time to breathe. She plopped into a plush chair. It felt too good. She was so tired and perhaps in low level shock. Sandy knew she was a mess. She cleared her mind enough to scan the lobby. It was the middle of the night so the restaurant was closed at this hour, as was the kitchen that served room service.

Sandy concentrated on walking normally as she approached the front desk. There was a competent woman there in her mid-thirties who had the air of being in charge. Good, this shouldn't take long. Sandy fell back on some of her training determining to manage information wisely. There was no need for a lot of background, no reason to have to navigate why she was up in the middle of the night, or in the hotel without a room in her name, or to have to differentiate that hers was not a walk of shame.

She spoke to the woman behind the counter, "I need to get on the road to make an important meeting, but I have way too much sleep left in my head. Is there a coffee vending machine in the hotel?" Sandy thought she'd pulled that off nicely. Unfortunately, she began to recount all the things she was trying to hide.

She realized the woman behind the desk had answered her, she just hadn't heard a word. Sandy started to ask her to repeat. "I'm sorry I didn't ..." she stopped then rushed through a disjointed explanation.

Sandy's thoughts caught up to her. They cascaded in her head until they had the weight of a battering ram. She was sorry, so terribly sorry. She hadn't done anything right since about 9:30 the previous night and her mistakes kept multiplying until an hour's worth of time may have cost her entire life. And that's not all. Her kids and husband didn't have the memory of a wonderfully handsome younger man showing interest in them, they didn't have those muscle stretching spasms, nor releases of hormones and neuro receptors that made a good emotional buzz into an erotic body-mind euphoria. There was no balancing the loss of their happy lives; it would just be "Mom didn't love us enough".

She heard herself gurgle, she felt the tear on her cheek and her heart begin to race. The night manager's voice snapped her out of her freefall, "Are you in trouble? I can help." She said it calmly yet firmly, grimacing as she quietly added, "Have you been ... compromised?"

Sandy knew the question was really, "Were you raped or forced?" The woman already knew there was a sexual component to Sandy's distress. Sandy started to bawl. It was embarrassing. Sandy was a fully grown woman, a department head. She could control herself. But she hadn't last night, and she couldn't this morning. Sandy was accomplished. She knew her way around men and the bedroom. She knew them enough to have boundaries. She knew enough to know Mark was THE one. She'd formed a wonderful life. She had a fantastic family. How had she blown it all up? The weight was crushing; she was going to lose everything she loved, and it was her own fault. Her family was going to lose their happiness too, and she was to blame. She was drowning and couldn't control herself.

"Do you want me to call the police?" Sandy heard the woman say. This woman was in control of herself, if only Sandy could swim through the rough seas to reach her.

Sandy shook her head empathically until she could speak again. She finally gulped in a large lungful of air and grunted out, "No. No, that would make it worse." She looked up at the woman behind the counter absolutely heart broken. She tried to explain, "I-I wasn't making good decisions last night. I-I did something I shouldn't have." Sandy's eyes and fingers from her right hand went to her wedding band. She felt the panic rise as she caressed the diamond, it felt so cold, so lifeless, she could hear the emotion in her own voice, "But I did it!" then more dejectedly, "I wasn't forced. I-I wasn't abused."

Sandy stared imploringly into the woman's eyes. "I'm married. I'm married to my dream man." Now she cracked, the sobs trying to drown out her words, "I love him. I didn't want to get away from him. I don't want to replace him. I don't want to trade up. I don't want my own space. He treats me so good! I don't understand why I did it. I don't know how I could do it!"

Sandy fell apart. She sobbed; her shoulders heaved. The night manager came around the counter and took her by the shoulders, "My office is right back there." She nodded with her head to a door at the end of the counter. "Let me take you there, you'll have some privacy."

After she got Sandy seated and was convinced Sandy wasn't going to run away, the night manager began to size her up. Sandy looked like someone in authority. The way she dressed, the way she was trying to hold herself; Sandy wasn't used to either losing or losing control. It was easy to speculate that last night she'd done one, leading to the other.

The night manager sighed then offered, "I'll find you that cup of coffee. Stay here, I'll be back shortly."

When she came back, she sat with Sandy as she sipped the coffee and regained her composure. They talked a bit, simply clarifying what she'd already said. The woman felt terribly for Sandy. Though she was relieved something nefarious hadn't happened in her hotel or during her shift. She looked back at Sandy; the poor woman had messed up her life. She felt so bad about Sandy's husband and kids, and poor Sandy was coming apart over them.

* * * * *

When Mark got home from dropping the kids at school, he was relieved to see his wife's car already in the garage. He parked his and hurriedly went to his wife's relief. Seeing her he stopped in his tracks. She was seated at their kitchen table clutching a cup of coffee with a second cup on the other side of the table, presumably for him. From the looks of her he had no idea how she made a single cup, even with their Keurig. How she'd managed the second cup was a mystery for the ages.

Sandy's hair was tousled. It wasn't windblown or freshly ravaged, it looked like she'd been clawing at her own hair. The theory was confirmed when she chose that moment to rake her fingers through her tresses one more time. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying. He noticed there were tissues all over the floor and the table. Having run out of tissues she'd then employed the roll of paper towels from the counter. Their rougher texture had begun to work over her nose and cheeks. It was a different quality about her eyes however, that cut him the deepest: they were haunted.

"Sandy?" Mark heard himself say.

She looked up. When she saw Mark, she brightened like a woman afloat at sea who had just glanced up to unexpectedly see a rescue boat. Her eyes alit. They filled with hope, and was that joy? It was hard to tell because they remained haunted and sad. It was the damndest combination he'd ever seen.

"Mark!" Sandy yelled as she bolted from her chair. He didn't know how she hadn't spilled her coffee. She rushed pell-mell to reach him. Suddenly she pulled up as if detecting a wall between them. She wasn't trying to save herself; she was trying to preserve him. What the hell?

"Sandy, baby, are you alright?" He reached for her.

Sandy found the gesture impossible to resist and threw herself to him. Incredibly she somehow checked her flight again. A manic glare shone in her haunted eyes as she rethought something. Then, just as suddenly, she was on him, knocking Mark back a half step with her lunge. He was confused. She hadn't thrown herself into his arms; she'd deliberately aimed for his legs. She was on her knees her cheek pressed hard against his stomach as her arms wrapped around him for all she was worth.

Taken aback Mark beseeched, "Sandy are you okay? I was worried sick."

There was no lack of worry in Sandy's voice, "I knew you would be as soon as I awakened you. I had to call! I'm so dreadfully sorry, more than you know. You've been my heart, the best man I ever met. You've given me everything I ever wanted. My dream house, three wonderful kids, and especially yourself. I can't believe I did this to you. I really can't."

Mark held out his arms. Standing quickly Sandy flew up into them, wrapping her arms around his neck so tightly it choked him. Still intwined he moved them to one of the chairs by the kitchen table. Sandy sat on his lap burying her face in his neck and wept.

Mark tried to sound calm masking his extreme concern at her behavior, "Sandy, are you okay?"

Stifling her tears she answered sadly, "I'm in no danger. There's positively no chance of my mistake happening again. I swear, but I've been racking my brain for a way to prove it to you. It's like all the other things I'd like to do to make this go away or to prove myself: I'm helpless now. It's all up to you. From a mountain of unfair things that seems to be the worst."

Mark asked tentatively, "Have you screwed up your career?"

Sandy pulled back so she could look at him. "No. My career is safe. I don't know how to say it, it will never happen again." She was panicked while also looking the very model of sincere. "I-I love you with all my heart! But ..."

When she didn't finish, he asked using the same word, "But ..."

"But I don't know if you'll love me. If you'll be able to. I may have wrecked our family, both our lives, and that of our kids."

It took everything Mark had not to raise his voice, "What's happened, Sandy?"

"I love you! Please let me stay. Please love me. Please keep loving me." Her panic was rising.

"What exactly are we talking about, Sandy?"

Panicked her nails accidentally dug into him from the strength of her grip. She turned a shade paler. Hope seemed to drain from her. It was like she'd reached a terrible destination. "I-I got drunk, apparently really drunk. I don't know how I let myself get that way."

Mark could feel his own anxiousness rise. He fought it down, responding simply, "Yeah?"

Sandy's tone became ominous, "I woke up in one of the rooms at the hotel where we had the party."

"Yes, I know," Mark felt impatience join his anxiety.

"I didn't take a room, Mark. I woke up in someone else's room."

There was deafening silence.

"I-I woke up in his bed, in his arms." Sandy looked up at him the definition of sorrow. "I don't know how but ... I cheated on you."

Mark felt his body grow cold, "What? What are you telling me?"

"I have no memory of deciding to cheat or not to cheat. I never decided to betray my family; I never weighed it like that. I woke up to find I'd already done it. I was really polluted, far more than I thought, or intended."

Mark studied his wife like through a magnifying glass. Absent mindedly he licked his frowning lips as he tried hard to process what his wife had just told him.

"Mark, I'm not trying to "get past it". I'm not trying to mollify it. I'm not telling you that you shouldn't be upset. I am telling you that I love you; that I'm nuts about you. That I had no desire or reason to cheat. And that I feel like shit for doing it. I feel like trash because I am trash, b-because spouses that cheat are trash. And I know what you do with trash: you take it to the curb. I won't blame you if you do, but I'm begging you not to. I'll get down and lick your shoes - I really will! If you'll just consider keeping me."

Mark was normally levelheaded and quick witted, even in an emergency. But he was overwhelmed. He couldn't have heard her right; Sandy would never do such a thing.

Sandy kept going, "I know a good man like you shouldn't have to make a decision between a good wife and one that's disgraced him, but I love you and the kids. I thought about leveraging their happiness to get you to consider letting me stay, but that really would be cheating you with aforethought. I swear that sort of malice didn't happen last night; it would add to the tragedy if it then occurred this morning. I would never knowingly cheat you like that."

Mark knew he should ask questions. He was a resourceful man typically knowing what he wanted, which put him ahead of most. Now he was just blown away. He resorted to some of his training by recapping and stating aloud his thoughts. "You cheated on me. You spent the night with another man." He paused, "You got drunk and didn't mean to. You're sorry and ..." he snapped out of his fog starring at her, "You're confessing to me."

Sandy's dark eyes were terribly sad for him. "Yes Honey. I'm terribly sorry. I hate it. I love you. I didn't spend the night with him, though I apparently went back to his room." She paused as her shoulders slumped in defeat, "I ... um, enjoyed his company and passed out. I awoke finding to my horror the scene I described. I quickly got to the bathroom and locked myself in. I tried to gather my wits. When it became crystal clear the situation was real and not a horrific dream, I threw up. I-I called you in the middle of the night. I had to get out of there as soon as I was able. I dressed. Evidently, I woke him up. He saw me escaping. He immediately saw how regretful I was. He apologized, I think trying to gauge if I was going to call the cops or if my husband was going to show up with a shotgun. I went to the lobby. The manager let me in her office and got me coffee. I stayed until I could drive. Then I came right home. I've told you my crime as quickly as I could. I'm still in shock over it all."

Sandy paused extremely confused. Then stated angry over the situation, "If you'd done this to me, I'd be flabbergasted, not angry, not right off anyway. Because I've never thought you capable of it. Honey, please try to understand that I thought the same about myself too! I'm wonderfully happy - deliriously happy - being your wife. There's no monster under the bed, no terrible secret, that made me want to cheat. I hate that I have, and my head is spinning because I don't understand HOW I did. I'm not trying to avoid the blame. I'm just so hurt, confused, and sorry. I can't describe how sorry I am that I've failed you this way. I've failed myself too. I'm incredibly unsteady, unsure of what I can count on from myself now. My ... fidelity to you was foundational to me!

"I'd be in much better shape if I understood what happened. If I had some flaw to concentrate my disdain and anger on. It hurts my case to come to you begging for some measure of reprieve and not be able to point to "X" as the cause, tell you how I'll kill it, and how we'll confirm the death. That's what I'd want in business or in life from someone else. It's what I want from myself."

Mark was dazed. He was still speaking his thoughts, "You've cheated on me, and you don't know why."

"I was drunk but that sounds too pat, too easy."

He nodded, distracted. "You hate it and swear you won't do it again."

"Oh God, Honey, I wish I never had."

"You left his room immediately," Mark recounted in a growing funk.

"As soon as I was clear headed enough to walk straight. Y-You can call the hotel manager to confirm she let me in her office. I think she might expect you to, she gave me her card. It was the middle of the night. I woke up and that was the situation. I have memories that correspond to the condition of my body which seems to ... corroborate my terrible behavior." Sandy couldn't raise her head, though she added in a rush, "I swear there's no hidden agenda, no hidden resentment, no secret desire, nothing lurking beneath the surface, to have caused this. I'm heartsick that I did it, but ... I did."

Mark was lost in thought.

Sandy desperately pledged, "I-I want to stay and love you, fix your broken heart. Maybe, if I'm successful, one day mine will be fixed too." Sandy gathered herself, earnestly choking out in a tortured whisper, "Mark, I'm horrified of a life without you!"

It took only a glance to see it was true. He repeated, "You have no memory of deciding to cheat."

Sandy slumped further, "No. I'd been in a group of work colleagues all night. When the group thinned, he outright asked me if I'd like to go back to his room. He didn't convince me, he didn't twist my arm, or scare me; he simply asked, and I said yes. I've been over it a hundred times, here's the strangest part: I couldn't think of a single reason why I shouldn't go. Not one. I tried. No, I don't normally forget I'm married. I'm proud of my marriage, my family, and my husband! Proud! But at the time my family didn't exist. It was just me. I didn't regress to my single days; they didn't exist, I wasn't reliving my college life and my parents didn't exist either. I didn't weight him against you or my family. I didn't weigh the cost of being caught because there was nothing to be caught over. There were no consequences because there was nothing bad about doing it. I'm deadly serious here Mark, whereas I wasn't physically unconscious, my mind was offline. I'm not exaggerating saying I'm not sure I could've told him my name. My imagination was gone, my reasoning was highly impaired. I couldn't generate a reason to counter his offer. I've never heard of being that drunk, but maybe I was. I mean, I did it, so there has to be a cause, if not a reason."

Mark looked strange, "I don't want to scare you, but would you mind giving blood?"

"What? Sure, why?" Sandy was going to go along with anything Mark thought of, regardless of whether it made sense to her.

Her husband gave up trying to sugar coat it, "I want to see if you were drugged."

"Oh," Sandy gasped. "I never thought of that." Her eyes popped open, "That means I was raped." She stopped. She swallowed very hard. She hated to say what had to be said, "Honey, I wish that were the case." She stopped again. "Wow. I've said and done a number of stupid things over the last twenty-four hours. That was another." Sandy looked completely downtrodden, "No, I don't wish I was raped. I wish I had an explanation, and one that somehow exonerated me would be wonderful. But Mark, being honest, and trying to be a good friend to you, I don't think that's the case." She paused, "Yes, I'll take the blood test. I just don't think you'll find solace there. You can count on my doing anything you wish to help us."

Mark nodded, then took his phone from his pocket and punched up the number of their family doctor. "I'm going to have to tell her some of the facts here."

Sandy nodded, "I trust you. I no longer care what anyone, but you and the kids, thinks of me. Yesterday I did, not now. I'll be the luckiest girl on earth if you can still love me."

Mark explained the circumstances to their personal doctor, and friend. Their doctor told them to go to the local lab and have the blood drawn. She said she'd order a panel of tests that would somewhat disguise the real reason they were having them, with the advice, "If anyone asks tell them you're getting new insurance policies."

Mark thanked her profusely.

Mark and Sandy stared at each other. Sandy could read his mind. Mark was blown away. Something had happened he never thought possible. As a result Mark wasn't sure if they were in this calamity together. Sandy recounted how many times from her original call to him at two AM that Mark had given her the benefit of the doubt. She'd gotten well into her confession before it occurred to him that they were discussing infidelity. Sandy knew Mark had put every confidence in her, and now had been proven wrong. Mark wasn't sure he really had a partner any longer.

* * * * *

The doctor called back later that evening having put a rush on the tests. The family was still at the table having just finished dinner. Sandy was trying to act normal for the kids and failing. Glancing at his cell phone, Mark made eye contact with his wife and moved to take the call in his study.

While he was gone Sandy told her kids, "I love you guys so much. You have the best dad in the world too. I'm so lucky to have you. I don't deserve you."

The kids thought it was weird but not too weird. Their father came back grim-faced, to sit at the table silently.

"Mark?" Sandy asked quietly.

"Remember you were hoping for some news that shouldn't be good news, but you'd still welcome it?"

The kids were beginning to adjust to confusion as a regular state. They didn't bother to stop chewing as their mother gasped. Sandy went breathless, understanding Mark was referring to her being drugged, "Yes?"

Mark was distracted by his thoughts again, "You didn't get that news."

Sandy felt an ominous weight. How much had Mark invested in that outcome? "So, it's still on me," she concluded.

Mark seemed a thousand miles away, "Yes, it is."

"I'm sorry, Mark." Sandy was morose. She realized the kids were staring at her. She forced herself to buck up. "Ah, Mommy caught a bug. A disgusting bug at work. I thought I might be over it, but I'm not. Kids, be good for your father. Mark, do you mind if I go up early? I'll be ready to continue this whenever you decide to come up. Would that be alright?"

"Yeah."

The kids looked at each other asking a silent question, "Mommy?" They were ages fourteen, sixteen, and almost eighteen. None had called Sandy mommy in ages.

Sandy got up unsteadily, leaning quickly against the table. "Sorry, I'm okay." She smiled at the children. She shuffled towards the hallway then thought better of it, walking instead to where several bottles of wine that were stacked on their sides on the counter. She grabbed one planning to take it upstairs hoping it might help her get through the guilt. Mark was instantly standing beside her. She was curious for a hot second until it dawned on her. "Oh! Oh dear, you're right. I should never touch the stuff again!"

He cut a glance towards the kids for her to see indicating he was being careful about what he said in front of them. "That's probably going too far, Sandy." He grimaced, which was unfortunate phrasing considering what they were dealing with. He shook it off, "I was speaking to our doctor recently. Remember we were wondering if drinking could cause someone to temporarily forget very important things?"

Contritely Sandy answered, "Yes, Mark."

"Well, she got me plenty of information on the subject. You don't really forget things; your brain just can't find them. It can make you that cloudy. Sometimes there are other things driving you, which come out when your inhibitions are down, but they may not be dirty little secrets. It may just be libido and appreciation for beauty." He paused, "To answer your original question: Yes, you really can get that drunk." Mark looked exhausted. It had cost him something to tell her that. He'd clearly invested in her exoneration opposed to explanations of willful actions.

Sandy knew he was trying to help her by telling her that she may not be at fault for forgetting her ties to Mark. In that situation her desire to bed her new lover could be understandable. Except that wasn't the way Mark wanted to understand it. Mark not only didn't want the woman he loved to bed another man, he wanted her cleared of wanting to. Mark had just been told the two possibilities he didn't want to even exist, were the two largest culprits he had to face. He was devastated.

Sandy nodded trying to hide her tears from the kids. She mouthed, "I'm sorry," then practically fled to their bedroom.

* * * * *

For the next few days Sandy followed Mark like a second shadow. She treated him like royalty. She acted like she was about to lose him, trying to tell him with the time she had left how much he meant to her. Could she get him a drink? She'd get the dishes. Did he need anything sewn? Could she make him a sandwich? Their next three dinners were so magnificent he could've gained ten pounds ... if he'd had any appetite. There was no way their budget could sustain continued meals of that caliber.

Sandy was practically Mark's chronicler, telling him how well he'd handled this or that. She reminded him of things he'd done well in the past. She tried like hell to please him while virtually singing his platitudes. He walked into a room on more than one occasion to hear her passionately explaining to their children what a wonderful man he was and all that he'd given up for them and her. It became so ridiculous that he was sure if he walked in the room looking serious and delivered the movie line to the kids, "Actually, I am Iron Man," that they'd believe it for a few seconds. What normal guy wouldn't want that? Just like the magnificent meals however, it didn't satisfy.

Saturday Sandy's kids came to her one by one trying to disguise their worry. Each explained they were going to spend the night with friends. She thought it an odd coincidence until she thought it through. They were giving her uninterrupted time with their father to fix whatever plague had beset their formerly happy family. She swore at herself for impacting their lives and happiness, then blessed them for giving her this chance. Then she had a sudden pang. What if this wasn't something they were doing to help her, but rather something their father had asked them to do so that he could pronounce sentence!

Sandy tried to do her best by Mark. She wanted him to remember that. Even if he didn't remember it, he deserved it, dammit. With shaking hands, she dressed accordingly, not sure exactly the direction matters were about to take. She dressed attractively, but not super seductively. She didn't want to be seen as sweeping her sin under the carpet, nor convey she was now more interested in sin than she was in him. She was trying to salute her husband not knowing which way his verdict was leaning. She wore a skirt just a couple of inches above her knees and a nice blouse. Things that weren't overt yet could be opened or shed quickly. The decision, just like the verdict, would be her husband's.

Sandy was waiting in the kitchen with her hands in her lap and head bowed as Mark came in from the yard work. He didn't conceal looking at her on his way upstairs to take a shower. He didn't appraise her though as he was already deep into his own thoughts. When he came back, she meekly asked him, "Here or in the family room?"

He stood there looking at her unaware of how nervous he was making her.

"W-Would you like a drink, Mark?" Sandy asked, nervously adding, "I just want to cut my anxiety."

His response didn't help her, "I have a bottle of your favorite wine cooling in the fridge."

Mark turned making himself a scotch, but not a strong one. Sandy wanted to cry, he seemed to get along fine without her. Had he already resolved to do so? She was startled when he placed a glass of wine in front of her. She'd been so lost in her fears she hadn't noticed him open the fridge and pour it. He placed his glass on the kitchen table not across from her but on the side of the table right around the corner from her. He sat then held out his hand. She quickly accepted, putting her hand in his. She did it so quickly she was relieved when it didn't make a slapping sound.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

The tears started immediately, "Oh dear God, I don't know how to answer that. I've always been completely honest with you, so I've hated not telling you the complete truth. It seems I have to figure that out now anyway. Part of it is that I honestly don't know what to tell you. The answers I've gotten myself seem too simple to cause this much pain. I think you could tell I've not been myself. At best I've been beside myself, at worst I've had to leave the room and seek solace. I actually went out to the garden shed once because I was just coming apart and didn't want the kids to see."

"They obviously know something's going on."

"Something obviously is." When Mark didn't speak Sandy added, "I think telling you more details might ease some of my own tremendous guilt, but I think it will just transfer any pain I lose to you, and that doesn't seem right. I don't think how I've approached you is right either, but I don't know any better way to do it."

Mark explained, "Sandy, I'm not trying to give you the silent treatment. I just don't know what to say ... or do for that matter."

"Mark honey, you are the outstanding thing that has happened to me, you are my joy in this life. I've told you before you've given me everything. You've honestly made my wishes come true. This house, which I know you didn't want, and three kids, are an intensive investment. I know you're proud of them and they make you happy. I also know you enjoyed the way you lived before me, and then with me, before we had the kids. If I'd told you I didn't want to have kids, you may have been just as happy to keep living as we had been. You've always been one to see the adventure in life. You would have sought it out until you didn't feel what you were missing. I love that about you. You always move ahead."

Worried, Sandy scrambled quickly to add, "I'm not saying you've been a bad father, or you've had a bad attitude about parenting. Quite the reverse, you've been the best of fathers. I know you love those kids; it's just you told me exactly what you wanted before we got married. You wanted a true life-partner, a little land, and a nice house. You didn't want to do house maintenance just to keep up with an investment. You wanted things with meaning that were joys to invest in. You had better things to do than just chip paint and patch roof panels on a cookie cutter house. You loved being outside, you loved the water especially the lake, and your grandfather's house there. Repairs there weren't mere maintenance, they were projects that extended a past history into a hopeful future. But if not the lake, you wanted someplace where you could roam. Milling out replacement gingerbread for this huge suburban Victorian wasn't your dream."

Sandy let her imagination run, it brightened her mood considerably. "You were great at outdoor things. Motors, boats, motorcycles, water skiing, hunting, and fishing. I always saw you on a ranch, where you'd go dirt biking. You'd like to hunt and spend time in the field. If we hadn't had child number three, I think you'd already be camping away with our eldest." Saying it had given Sandy a happy glow.

"You paint a great picture," Mark said with honest admiration. "I don't mind maintenance. I was prepared to do it but for something I loved. That's the key: interacting with what you love. That's what should fill our lives. I like this house but it's a ton of work that feels more like keeping up with the Jones or simply not letting an investment fall down around your ears. Either way it's work instead of a pleasure."

Sandy drank it in. Looking down she stated, "I know this house and neighborhood aren't your favorites."

"I'm not complaining," he took a small sip of his scotch.

"I know you're not. You don't complain. You didn't refute it either. I know you take joy from what you love. I'm petrified I've taken myself out of that category."

He looked at her poignantly, "Honestly?"

She nodded.

"If you had, we'd be discussing separation now."

Sandy tried to hide her sudden dizziness. He'd said it to put her at ease but invoking the word "separation" sent her into a tailspin.

Mark spoke perplexed, "I love you, although that seems to be one of the ingredients in the awful tasting stew that's cooking in my head. I'm dismayed more than anything else. I'm still trying to deal with what you did. I'm a long way from figuring out what to do about it. I'm still trying to get a grip on what you did, just the facts, just the reality. I want to be angry. No wait, I am angry. I've been true, this doesn't seem like the sort of shit I should be dealing with. I thought I chose better when picking a mate."

Sandy heard her own groan. Then she felt his hand tighten on hers.

"I didn't mean to make you feel bad, but I'm not going to say I'm sorry. I didn't intend to wound, I wasn't saying that specifically of you, just the situation. I never wanted to deal with this sort of situation. That's part of my dismay. You mentioned it perfectly before. You paint a great verbal picture. You said if I'd cheated on you that you'd be flummoxed because you never thought I'd do such a thing. That's exactly where I am. I can see circumstances where you didn't set out to betray me. It's just that I never thought you'd cheat in any circumstance."

Sandy groaned again. That word: betrayed!

Mark continued, "Even that has a footnote: whether you betrayed me or not, you did cheat. Specific properties about that are eating at me." Mark shook his head. "Look, I really appreciate that you're bending over backwards to prove yourself to me. I think that's warranted as you've thrown all the givens about our relationship into the wind. We both have to know what's solid before we can see if we can fix what isn't. Honestly, saying you aren't confident of yourself doesn't make me feel confident about you either."

Mark's mouth made different shapes as he ground his teeth, "Sandy, you need to verify your stability and capability to be true. Even if you were ready to demonstrate that, I'm not ready to make that judgment yet." He shook his head ruefully, "It's been a week and I'm still trying to accept the fact of your cheating.

"I'm being very honest with you before you've proven yourself worthy of it. I could be feeding you the way to manipulate me." He rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm not trying to punish you. God knows I'm not trying to push you away. I'd be straight up about that, so don't worry there."

Mark wasn't sure if he wanted to stand or sit, which was a perfect example of how he'd felt since Sandy told him she'd slept with another man. He sighed, "I have to accept that you cheated before I can evaluate the "one drunken mistake scenario", which I've never quite bought into. But our doc says it's real and your hotel manager told me she's seen more than enough drunken mistakes to believe it beyond doubt. She was certain your infidelity was just that. In fact, she said yours was the most obvious, and the most heartbreaking, example she's ever witnessed. She was trying to put me at ease. She said it was obvious how much you loved me. She said she was worried you'd harm yourself for what you'd done until she asked a pointed question and gotten a pointed response."

Sandy didn't know how to feel about her husband contacting the hotel night clerk. She'd told him to do it, but he had to be very troubled to have actually done it. The night manager had tried to put him at ease. That had to be good. Sandy was hoping this was the break she'd been hoping for, "What was that?"

"When the hotel manager asked you if you were considering harming yourself you answered that you couldn't because that would hurt me more than what you'd already done. She said you were desperate to find a way back into my heart because I love you so much that leaving me alone, that you not being there even as an object of scorn or anger, would be inhumanely cruel. To leave my heart so full of love without recourse or direction sounded truly damning to you. She said you'd rather be here for me to hate, if that's what I needed, than committing suicide and leaving me without you at all. She made a point of telling me how horrible it would be for a woman who loves a man to live with him knowing he hated her. She implied suicide might be preferable." Mark took a large drink of his scotch, emptying half the glass' contents.

Sandy sighed with great discontent, "I'm sorry to put you though this, Mark!"

"It all looks good, in so far as it can. Sort of like finding out you have cancer, but it's treatable. But you'd still rather not have cancer."

She nodded unhappily.

"Here's the crux: I can't reach the point of letting it go without first examining the cancer. Right now, I'm still coming to grips that we have the disease, I'm not ready to fight it. And delaying the treatment regimen is another complication; I must take my medicine before we can heal. I'm still trying to find my footing to be able to walk upright again. I'm not ready to walk into the operating room yet." He sighed again. "Okay, I'm trusting you here."

"Thank you, Mark!"

"Don't thank me yet."

She nodded chewing her lip.

"I'm trying to accept that you cheated. That's hard. Then I'm trying to make sure I can still trust you going forward. Those are two separate things and I'm not done the first yet. What I'm running into is every time I try to think through that you are here and sorry but cheated on me, I wonder how likely it is to happen again. I can't even begin to ponder if I want to take that risk, little less if there is some hidden reason that made you want to cheat. When I close my eyes, I have images of you with someone else and that just sets me on fire. I can't get through step one because it has a second side. The first side is that you did me dirty. The flip side is your actual passion with another man. I can almost do the first, when the second comes roaring in and blows me up."

Sandy felt herself hyperventilating. "M-Mark, that's h-horrible." She thought, "Imagining you with another woman ..." Sandy froze, her eyes filled with tears. "It's horrible, it is!" She wanted to flee when it caught up to her that for her it was all imaginary and an academic endeavor. For Mark, however, it was an inescapable cold reality he couldn't put away or dismiss. Sandy threw herself upon Mark, apologizing over and over, kissing his face and head, holding on for dear life. Because she could feel her joyous life with Mark slipping away.

END OF PART ONE.