Joseph, Joe, Joey

Pretty standard cheating wife story with consequences, some violence, remorse, regret, and a reconciliation.

Thanks to BentNotBroken for her outstanding editing and contributions. I wouldn't do this without you!

Carrie's laughter burst through the hum of the party. I stood in a group with conversation flowing in an animated fashion but I wasn't involved with it. Why?

Because my eyes and attention were focused 40 feet away on my wife in her silver dress as she stood on the balcony with her back reflecting the light from the chandeliers from the room, while her blonde hair was glowing from the moonlight. And because -

Joey's hand was creeping up under the back of her dress.

* * * *

We've been married seven years. Seven years of the usual back and forth in conversations, disagreements, coming to an understanding discussions, fights, making-up, vacations, work, household chores. All the usual in a relationship that makes up the bricks and building blocks of a solid, enduring relationship.

Or so I thought.

Were not those bricks and blocks also a safety wall built to repel attacks and invasions from foreign entities - verbal, emotional, and especially physical?

Is there a difference between guys named Joseph who call themselves Joe, and those who prefer Joey? While certainly not a rule, it does seem that there's a difference in attitude.

"Joe" is a manly name, guys that are athletes, trades people, those who are in control and dependable. Quarterbacks like Joe Montana and Joe Namath, or the boxers Joe Louis and Joe Frazier. What if it was "Joey" Montana? Would he have thrown all those touchdowns as a "Joey"? Or would Joe Frazier become heavyweight champion if he was "Joey" Frazier?

"Joey," on the other hand, is a boy's.. a frat boy's name, the cute and fun guy, a player, a ladies man.

Just do a Google search on famous people named Joe, and compare it to famous people named Joey. The difference is obvious.

My 28 year old wife began talking about this "Joey" guy a few weeks ago when he joined her company where they both worked in marketing. It figures. Those marketing people all dressed differently, more relaxed but yet put together nicely, almost like they bought those well-matched relaxed casual outfits the models wore in the Eddie Bauer catalogs.

We walked into the company party arm in arm, my beautiful wife's smile lighting our path. I'd always enjoyed her company's annual party as a chance to dress up, have some good food and drink, and enjoy dancing with my wife.

When we arrived the party was already in full swing as evident by the mix of recorded music that wasn't loud enough to make conversation uncomfortable, as the room's conversation was lively as it mixed with the clinking of glass and the women's high heels.

I recognized and greeted several of her coworkers who I'd met at previous year's functions. As we were conversing with a nice couple, this guy evidently named "Joey" walks up with that relaxed manner that also implies "I'm here and will now take over the conversation." People like that just seem to manipulate nice people into submissively yielding their conversation.

Carrie grabbed my arm and said, "Babe, this is my co-worker Joey who recently joined the company." Joey reached out his hand to me and I shook his hand, firmly. But immediately I recognized his firmness was just slightly more than necessary, a power move.

But also? He had that smile, or more like a grin, that indicated he felt he was the alpha dog. Perhaps he'd been treated that way over his young life because of his blonde wavy hair, his 6'1" height, and his youthful build. Yeah, a handsome guy.

Now I'm no pushover. I, too, consider myself an alpha, in fact, I believe that's what attracted Carrie, my wife, to me. MY wife. But I'm not an asshole alpha, no, I just know when to stand my ground, take a position, move forward or walk away, when to be nice, and - when to not be nice.

What happens when two alphas meet? There's a range of possibilities. Maybe it's a friendly competition, perhaps mutual respect, at times outright conflict.

But Joey and I both knew, immediately, it would be a competition. A competition for what? I knew it was for my wife. He was going to make it a competitive dance to dominate my space with my wife, to establish a hierarchy with him on top.

And I bet, in fact I knew it was his plan, to have this hierarchy with him on top - of my wife.

Not to worry though. Here's the thing: Some alphas are so concerned with proving their dominance that they're blind to strategy. Oh yeah, they have their tactics for sure. They know the individual moves, the lines, they can read the emotions and adjust as necessary. But frequently they are impatient when competing with another alpha.

And that's the weakness.

Some may wonder why I'm not going to worry. It's because Carrie is my wife, MY wife. And we've built that wall of history - which in itself should be enough protection. However, if Joey should breach that wall that's when it's time to be, not nice.

What's my weakness? Being too trusting of my wife.

Why? Because early in dating I was only one of her suitors. She's gorgeous, that blonde hair splashing around her shoulders, the coy manner in which she tucks a strand behind her ear while looking at a guy, her body a model's dream.

She played the field, maybe a few dates with a guy while also dating others. She had her hook-ups like I did. After all, we're in a new century and morals have changed.

When things got serious with us we had that conversation about monogamy, fidelity, trust which we willingly agreed to, but also what we'd do if the other violated that trust. It was probably more theoretical at the time, after all, we were in love and young and seeing the future isn't a strength of youth while clouded with hormonal emotions.

Growing up in a low income neighborhood taught me a lot about trust and betrayal. One was always on edge. You learn to read people, also see how the weak and the betas get taken advantage of. How other dominants harm the weak.

So you learn how keeping your pride may mean taking a punch, learning how to love the pain so you can focus on fighting back. You learn how at times simply the willingness to take a hit raises your standing among the dominant crowd, but also how learning to fight and win is even better.

That background of meager possessions, pain and violence, reading people and their intentions, planning for a potential confrontation all transfers well into college.

While it takes a little time to get up to speed on those of the higher economic class - of their language, attire, attitudes, the ability to read the room and party appropriately, it eventually became a learned skill in college.

So when I met Carrie and her family, I fit right in. Her father took to me for my progress in where I came from, what I accomplished, and how I presented. He, too, was an alpha male.

As things got serious with Carrie he made me promise to always take care of her. And over the past seven years, he would always compliment me on my caretaking and providing for his daughter.

Throughout this party I saw Joey frequently leave a group conversation and move to wherever Carrie was when I happened to be in another group conversation. Frankly I was surprised when the band started that she accepted his offer to dance without even glancing around to find me first, or to ask if it was OK.

Growing up I developed a sense of what seemed out of place, who might be around that corner, what did a seemingly innocent question really mean, how and why was someone sizing me up.

Neurotic? Yes. But it is a learned awareness I've never regretted.

So I stood back and watched the dance, then two, then three. It seemed Carrie was more relaxed in his arms and in their look at each other than I would have expected. Sure, it still passed the husband test, well maybe not three dances in a row, but nothing that would seem alarming to anyone else.

But me.

Joey the player must have already been working on my wife for a few weeks. A woman doesn't immediately relax in another man's arms and look in his eyes while dancing if they've not had a relationship already.

As the third Dance was ending I strolled up to the couple and said "next ones with me." Joey looked at me with his disarming smile and stepped back appropriately, obviously, because up to that point he knew he'd planted the seeds in Carrie's mind.

To my surprise, Carrie said, "Oh, not now honey. I need a drink and to sit down." I'm sure Joey smirked behind my back while I walked over to the bar to get our drinks.

Carrie ended up at a table with other coworkers while I waited for the bartender. I observed them but also panned around to see Joey in another group. He was also watching Carrie.

After bringing the drinks to the table and engaging in conversation with Carrie and her co-workers, she went to the restroom with the other women while I stayed with the men and discussed the coming playoff matchups.

After a while I stood up, "The ladies must be having quite a discussion in the ladies room, don't you think?" I said with a smile. The men all laughed and we started making jokes about women and their private conversations.

Our group sort of split up while one of the guys stayed with me, with an uncomfortable and awkward verbal space between us. I turned my head to him and bluntly said, "What."

He continued looking forward and not at me. With more focus in my voice and looking at him I again said, and didn't ask: "What."

He looked down at his feet and shuffled uncertainly, took a sip of his bourbon, and said "Joey." I remained silent, there was no reason to step on his thoughts, plus the silence always makes people feel the need to talk.

"Joey. I hate that guy." Looking at this man who was staring ahead at nothing in particular I recognized he was certainly not an alpha but would have been one of those picked on in school. Maybe just a nice guy, maybe a nerd, probably an obedient child that tried to do everything right.

One of those vulnerable to those dominant, those either with bad intent or those with simply a mean streak that took it out on the vulnerable.

Those with the mean streak never messed with me. They knew better. They'd only go after those who couldn't or wouldn't fight back. Like this poor sap.

Didn't I feel bad for him? A little. And little do these nice, mild, dependable, reliable, competent guys know that if they'd just man up and face up to the bullies, the alphas, that they'd get more respect from the bullies and from themselves. And if they'd get physical or at least learn a few moves they'd put these guys on notice as too much effort to mess with.

"Why do you hate him? What happened?" I asked.

He pointed over to a group of women dancing together holding their drinks as they simply swayed to the music. "See the blonde in the red dress, the one with the big tits?"

She was a beautiful green-eyed blonde wearing a short, tight red dress which, depending on your viewpoint, either tastefully or sluttily displayed her tits.

"That's my wife. She's in the marketing department with that jerk, Joey, and he... well, he, let's say he, um." His voice trailed off but I got the point. I put my arm around his shoulder and said in what I hoped was a sympathetic voice, "That's not cool man, I'm sorry you had to go through that."

After another pregnant pause I asked, "So you guys are still together?"

"Yeah, for now I guess. I mean, I don't know what she sees in me but look at her, she's beautiful and I love her so what am I supposed to do?"

That was pure simp talk for sure, not my kind of guy. But it did alert me to Joey danger around my wife. And I'm not a simp. But I do have a heart.

"May I offer you a piece of advice?" He nodded. "Look, you're a handsome man, competent and probably reliable, right?" He nodded again. "Women love dependability, but they also love the excitement of danger. It turns them on. So you need to realize three things."

He turned to look at me intently. "Three things?"

"Yes. These are absolutes. First, your wife has to know that if she wants to play the dangerous game for excitement, that you're the most dangerous person to mess with.

Second, any man who makes moves on your wife needs to know there is danger in it for them and not to try it.

Third, if they do it and your wife falls for it then you have to realize there's plenty of women out there who would love a dependable, good looking guy like yourself.

"But you've got to convince yourself of that, otherwise, your wife and other men will walk all over you."

His face fell when I said that last line but at least he held my gaze. Then he asked a question that surprised me. "Those are pretty big words for a guy whose wife is hot for good ole' Joey."

I was able to keep my poker face and not react. Why? Because I'd already taken care of point number one. My wife knew my past, my position on fidelity and cheating, and knew what would happen. In fact, Carrie has witnessed with her own eyes what has happened to those who went just a little too far with her.

So if she was going to mess around, she'd have to make sure I never found out.

Point three I was certain of as well. There was no way I was going to have a future of being a willing cuck while there's plenty of great women out there, and I'm not afraid to test the waters either.

But point two hadn't happened yet as there had not been an opportunity, and up to now I'd only been assessing the situation. So I decided I had enough information to emphasize point two to Joey, though likely when he first met me and we had that alpha recognition between ourselves, he already knew.

"Watch how I handle the second point with Joey," I told the simp.

Only I couldn't find little Joey. Yeah, I said "little." At this point my mind was made up about who he was and what his intentions were.

I walked around the ballroom attempting to appear casual, wearing that slight smile while looking for my wife, or Joey, or perhaps both. As I neared the bar I grabbed another drink and sauntered into another room where the music wasn't as loud and people could have easier conversations.

Just after I slid into a group conversing about their summer vacation plans, I heard the distinctive and familiar laughter of my wife. I looked past the partiers through the open french doors to the balcony, where Carrie was bathed in the moonlight in a silvery, ethereal glow where her silver dress further emphasized her dreamlike appearance under the moon's rays..

Why was she laughing? At what? The answer was obvious as Joey's lips were nestled close to her ear, likely whispering something humorous and teasing while simultaneously moving his hand down her back-baring mini A-line dress. As he reached the material that began several inches above her firm butt his hand slowly slid over the material, cupping her ass cheek, as it got to the bottom of her hem.

I was pissed. Royally! It was all I could do at the moment to even stand still and witness this very brief moment between them. Now was the time for me to do the walk over to them and handle this. However, just as I was about to make my move, his hand moved again.

It slid under the hem of her dress, to her bare thigh, and slowly slid up under her ass cheek and squeezed. Carrie didn't pull away! Instead, her head dropped as if she was focusing on an emotion.

This was very telling, very revealing to me.

And this was in public, mind you. True, no one else was on this small balcony and the balcony was only lit by the moonlight and whatever light from the room's chandeliers escaped through the doorway. Yet all it would take is for someone to glance over to see what was taking place on the balcony.

Joey's hand didn't remain on my wife's ass cheek for long. It did caress it a little, only to set the tone and pace for its slow slide sideways and up to the private dessert usually on order for her husband, not co-worker.

Carrie's head turned to the side, eyes closed, biting her lip. Even in the moonlight I could tell her cheeks were flushed, no, that color wasn't just the golden glow of her suntan. She was into this, she was willingly accepting another man's invasion of her privacy, of her marriage, of her vows, of her husband's rights.

For my wife to permit this was gut-wrenching to me. A rush of thoughts flowed through my mind, questions, questions, questions. Plenty of 'what' and 'why' questions interfering with my realization that she had gone much too far, that she was permitting a killshot to our relationship.

How could I trust her again, even if I permitted this one act?

Was this the only act? In our seven years how many times had I witnessed my wife turning down men's advances, pick-up lines, overtures? How many times did she have to get firm, or remove a hand, or speak up boldly and fearlessly? Yet tonight? Permitting a co-worker, not even a stranger but someone she'd have to work with and someone everyone else in her office would know about?

I stepped back away from the group I was in and walked with intent around the room and headed toward the balcony. Someone was going for a fall over that railing. But just then I spotted someone leaning against the wall looking lonely, but subtly propping their phone steady, evidently recording the action.

He saw me approach and raised his finger to his mouth as if to shush me, then with his palm down motioned his hand down, down, down as if to say "calm down." It was the simp.

"Look man, I know you're upset but this isn't the place. I'm here for you. I appreciate what you told me and I thought I'd have your back. You can't do anything without evidence, or else you'll end up in jail. You don't want that prick to win, do you?"

He was right. I was willing to take the hit, but it was wiser to let this play out. After all, my wife was an accomplice in this. Even if I kicked Joey's ass it wouldn't undo what she permitted to happen. And clearly from the dance and from what I just observed, she was comfortable with this guy.

I now knew they had a past.

In other words, it was over between Carrie and I.

"Get out of here, don't let them see you. Let me get you the evidence. Go get a drink, or cool down somewhere out of their sight."

I stepped out of the room and made my way to the bar to get some water. No more alcohol for me, I needed a clear head. Mentally I was making a to-do list, and at the top of the list was calling my boss who had gone through a divorce. He picked up on the first ring.

"Garrett, a little late to be calling! What's up, everything ok?" I told him what was going on, that I'd need a few days off, and the attorney that helped him with his divorce. I'm his prized employee, a rainmaker, and can pretty much dictate my schedule. But I'm respectful and appreciative and don't take my privileges for granted.

My next call was to the attorney he texted me, Scarlett Jennings, evidently a real ball buster of a divorce attorney. She asked how I got her private cell number, and once she heard who referred me she said, "so you must be one of the good ones." She texted me a tick-list of things to get in order for tomorrow's appointment - a weekend one at that! This woman was serious!

As I was reviewing her list, the simp found me. "What's your phone number? I'll text you the video."

"Thanks man, I appreciate it. I'm surprised with you, I didn't think you of all people would be up for something like this."

"Yeah, I understand. Look, I'm smart. Maybe more book smart but I'm not stupid. I just have a hard time standing up for myself but when it comes to other people I'm pretty good at standing up for them. What you said to me had an impact. You're so right, and I'm working up the courage to end it with my wife."

"Well," I said as I looked sympathetically at him, "I have an appointment tomorrow with a killer attorney for the same thing."

"You do? Already? Well that's good because Joey just took your wife to a small conference room down the hall."

For some reason that didn't piss me off. I'm not sure why, perhaps it was that my mind was made up about Carrier's acceptance of another man, in public, at a work event, around her colleagues, with her husband present.

What did piss me off, though, after having introducing me to so many of their colleagues tonight, was the immediate thought that them fucking around would eventually become known and that would make me a cuck. Perhaps an unwilling cuck, but then, how would everyone know I was unwilling?

The only way for them to know was for me to make it public, that not only was I not a cuck, but that I could kick some righteous ass when needed.

"Still got enough battery in that camera for some more video?" The simp enthusiastically nodded yes. "Show me where they are and get ready."

It was a short walk down a hallway to a closed door. We could hear the grunts, uhs and ahs through the door. Fucking was in-progress.

"Turn it on and get some of those sounds, then back up and stay out of the way. Just get ready to move and see what a true alpha does in this situation." He nodded, wide-eyed, and steadied his camera. The red light was on!

Slowly I tried the doorknob. It was locked. So be it. Backing up to take my position, I stepped forward with my leg raised and kicked the door at the lock and busted it open with a loud "BANG."

The door flew open to reveal my naked wife on her knees, bent over holding on to the back of a conference chair while Joey was plowing her from behind, his shirt unbuttoned displaying his chest, and his pants and underwear down around his ankles.

Their eyes bulged out, shocked at the sudden intrusion, Carrie screaming at the shock and exposure. Joey's eyes even more so in that it was me barging in!

"No no no no no no," uttered Carrie as she tried to get off the chair, while Joey stumbled backward, his legs short-chained by the pants around his ankles. The conference chair swiveled around as Carrie was attempting to get off, every adjustment she made only made the chair circle around more until she fell off in a thud on to the floor, sprawling on her back with her legs splayed open, her glistening cooch gaping open.

Joey was trying to lean against the conference table for balance, but just as he started to bend over to pull up his pants, I was over there and gave him a big uppercut to his jaw, snapping his head back where he fell backwards onto the conference table, his legs draped over the edge.

Fully exposed, I punched him in the nuts, after which every male's reaction is to double over or in his case, do a sit up to grasp his package. But that only made him vulnerable to a flurry of strikes to his gut, chest and face.

"Ooofffff, OWW, AHHH!!!" he screamed as I pummeled him. I grabbed him by the hair and dragged him off the table and out the conference door into the hallway. "Wait, wait, please, wait a minute," he begged. He was attempting to duck-walk with his pants at his ankles, but I was not in a merciful mood.

Still pulling him by his hair into the hallway, I launched him headfirst into the wall with a huge thud. I must have missed a wall stud because the drywall caved in at that point with his head halfway through it. He was stuck for a moment until his weight pulled him out and he fell down, dazed.

This gave me a moment to go back to Carrie, who was struggling to get up and into her dress. However I felt if she was willing to embarrass herself in public, and by extension me too, then let's go all the way!

I grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backwards, her dress just up to her waist as she was attempting to hold it up with one hand while with the other grabbing at my hand which was around her hair. I pulled her into the hallway while her bare feet were trying to keep up with some sort of balance, as I quickly pulled her backwards toward the ballroom.

The noise from Joey's screaming and the wallbanging thud had attracted attention, so a small crowd had appeared at the hallway opening to the ballroom. I was dragging a barefoot, half-naked marketing professional by the hair toward the ballroom to everyone's gasping, shocked, even horrified expressions.

With a loud and purposeful voice I yelled, "Is it company policy for sexual fraternization between employees? Because if so, I'm gonna kick more asses in this room of those in charge!" and I bowled Carrie into the gawking crowd.

She slid a few feet into the throng that had gathered, disoriented with her buxom boobs luridly bouncing as she hit the floor, her hair disheveled and makeup streaked. She hadn't even had time to cry yet, though, as she looked up at the faces looking down at her, her colleagues, her co-workers, her face scrunched up and the tears began to flow.

By this time I had hustled back to the protagonist, my nemesis and focus of my anger. Joey had managed to stand up and get his pants up and he must have shook off the stun and shock somewhat. He stood up to face me with anger on his face.

"You fucking asshole! Think you're better than me, getting a cheap shot in while I fuck your slut wife! You're a little cuck with a little dick, you fucking cunt! Now watch me fuck YOU up!" he roared.

A larger crowd had gathered now and we were in the center. I was in my element. The love of the fight, the man-to-man action, only one will be left standing, the pain to come from taking a punch, the gratifying feeling of feeling one's knuckles crunching against another man's bones, the adrenaline pumping enormous amounts of blood into the muscles.

"Hey little Joey, I saw your little dick as you fucked my wife. She hardly screamed like she does when I'm fucking her with my cock. Why do you think she's stayed with me all these years? Too bad for her she bought your lines of bullshit - she won't be getting any of my cock anymore. But you? I'm gonna fuck you up really bad. Pucker up, pussy."

Everyone heard what I replied to Joey. I bet most of those witnessing these events at the company party had soft hands, big egos, but little experience in a fight. What they were about to witness was real live action.

Joey came at me first with a round house, a real stupid move. I simply moved inside it with a strike to his solar plexus, winding him and staggering him backwards, gasping for air. At that point it was left, right repeatedly to his head, his gut, his ribs. At one point he spun around before I pushed him against the wall and punched his kidneys. Those will be bruised for quite a while.

Then I grabbed him by the hair and pants and launched him against the wall, his face hitting face-first and his nose breaking, blood pouring out. He crumpled to his knees, a perfect position for his face to slam into my bent knee, jerking his head back as he flailed backwards onto the floor.

As he lay there I grabbed his pants and yanked them off. "Anyone want a video of little Joey's shriveled little dick?" I yelled to the onlookers. Actually, there were several of the guys snapping photos smiling. I don't think they were gay, I just think they wanted someone to humiliate.

"What the hell is going on here!?" boomed a deep voice. A tall distinguished older man in an expensive suit and shiny cap shoes pushed people aside and strode into the fray with his hands on his hips. The crowd suddenly hushed and refused to look him in the eye. Clearly he had authority.

At this point I didn't care much about anything. My headrush from laying down a beating on little Joey was still pumping endorphins through my body, my muscles still were engorged, and my face still menacing.

So with no shame or fear I looked at him and said, "Who the fuck are you and why the fuck would you care?"

He walked up to me and said, "I'm the fucking owner of the firm and I fucking care about who's fucking up my fucking party. So who the fuck are you, you fuck!" With that last "you fuck" some spittle left his mouth.

"I'm the fucking husband of one of your fucking employees, who was getting fucked by another of your fucking employees who has a small dick. And I'm also the fucking man who beat the shit out of your fucking little dick employee, so what the fuck are you going to do about it?"

The boss and I glared and stared at each other. Clearly two alphas sizing up each other. Who would back down first? It wasn't going to be me, I was the aggrieved party, the offended party, the one with a beef while he was ultimately the responsible party.

Realizing the same thing, he backed down, turning his face away from me over to the piece of shit laying pantless and almost unconscious. "Shit," he said as he looked around at the disgusting scene. "Someone help him get his pants on," he barked, "and you!" he pointed to Carrie, "Why the fuck would you fuck-up here during my party? Go find your shoes and clean yourself up." Pointing to a few of the other women, "You women over there, help clean her up and bring her into that conference room over there."

Motioning to me to follow he strode over to the conference room and repeatedly tried to shut the door, which obviously I had broken. "Shit. Fuck!" he yelled in frustration as he tried slamming the door shut.

"I'm Prentis Jacobson, the owner of this company. Tell me what happened here."

I put my finger up for 'one moment' and looked into the hallway and saw the simp and asked him to come in.

"Prentis, my wife works in your marketing department with Joey. He's been making the moves on her for a while. Here at your party he started monopolizing her time, then on the balcony started feeling her up and fingering her, eventually moving to this conference room where I found them fucking. This very smart associate of yours has most of it on video.

"Oh, that reminds me, hold on a minute." I walked into the hallway and shouted, "All of you that have pictures and video, send it to me at either my cell phone or email address," as I shouted the contact info. Then I returned to the conference room where Prentis was watching the video.

All he kept saying is 'shit' and 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'fucker' and 'fucking asshole.' Then he turned to me and said, "This is a fucking mess. I promise you, heads are going to roll, but with that beating you gave him you might have some legal issues yourself."

I let out a hearty laugh. God, that laugh felt good. "Maybe. Maybe. But if I do it was worth it. It was worth it to retain my man card, in fact, if all these videos get out I think I'll be awarded a gold plated man card, don't you think?"

Prentis gave a wry smile at that.

"But there's a few things I want from you, Prentis, just so that we're on the same page. It's not much, all easily doable."

Prentis cocked his head with interest.

"First, tonight you tell little Joey that he's not fired as long as he doesn't press assault charges against me."

"You don't want me to fire him for what he did? You want him to continue working around all these people? After what he did to your wife?"

"Yep! I want him to go to work every day humiliated that he got the shit kicked out of him, where everyone saw his shriveled, limp dick. Just let him do his job for a few weeks, he'll screw up, then you can get rid of him.

"Meanwhile, I want you to keep my wife employed for at least six months until I can get divorced. I don't want to pay alimony to her. After than, shit, you can fuck her yourself if you wish. She's a good lay. But I don't want her anymore. If I stay with her I look stupid, I look weak, I look like a cuck. It's over between us."

Prentis mused over my request, then responded. "OK, so what do I get out of this? What do I get for keeping people who will be a subject of gossip everytime they come to work? It will be disruptive to the workforce."

"It's more like what you don't get. You don't get sued by me for the actions of your employee at one of your functions. And besides Prentis, come on now. This will be big news for maybe a week. After that everyone will simply look with disgust or perhaps pity on Carrie and Joey and pretty much ignore them. And all that Carrie and Joey will be doing is focusing on their work, after all, the last thing they'll want to do is hang out with anyone that's seen her tits and twat or his limpy dicky. Right?"

Both the simp and Prentis gave a light chuckle to the thought.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Ok, we have a deal."

"One more thing, Prentis. This man has done me a solid. I have everything I need for the divorce. He's smart and capable, and probably grossly under-utilized. I'd appreciate some consideration for him and his future with your company. How about it?"

Prentis nodded and told the simp to meet him back at the bar for a discussion about his future, then he left to go find Joey and give him the news, and the threat.

I was going to go home, but it seems I became a very popular man at the party. Guys slapped me on the back and women were putting notes or business cards in my pocket with a wink and a smile. So I hung out and had a few drinks. Actually, I really began to enjoy myself.

The band started up again and I had a number of quite enjoyable dances with some attractive ladies, married and unmarried. During some slower numbers some hands seemed to wander between my legs and some fabulous breasts pushed against my chest. The future didn't seem so bleak at the moment.

By the time I got home well after midnight I was in a much better mood. I felt great about getting my pound of flesh from that fucker Joey, I showed everyone there that I wasn't going to "simp"ly accept being cucked. I retained and actually upgraded my man-card. And unexpectedly I got quite a few phone numbers of available ladies. What started out as a pile of shit turned out to be a pile of promise, though there was still some shit to clean up in my life.

Some of that was sitting at home when I walked in the door. Carrie evidently had already got home and was showered and sitting on the couch in PJs and a robe, surrounded by used tissues, looking at me with forlorn guilt.

What was I supposed to say after all that went down at the party? The adrenaline rush had faded long ago; I'd had a number of drinks after the fight; and was worn out from all the dances I enjoyed. I wasn't really in the mood for further discussion or to listen to apologies and excuses.

"How'd you get home? Did'ja grab an Uber?"

She sniffed first then replied weepily, "No, one of the girls from the office drove me."

I grunted an acknowledgement then went to the bedroom to undress, then I was going to get a shower before bed. After showering and headed to bed, Carrie was in bed sitting up waiting for me.

"Out," I commanded. She looked at me with soulful, tearful eyes. "OUT, I said! You're not sleeping with me anymore. Leave."

"Garrett, please, I need to talk with you. Please?"

"Out." I stared at her with my 'don't fuck with me' face.

She whispered, "Please Garrett, I need to explain. Please don't shut me out."

"Out," I again said with emphasis. "I don't want an explanation. I saw it all with my own eyes." Her lips were quivering, trying to form some word of response when I loudly barked, "Now OUT!"

She burst out crying and slowly walked from the room, hesitating as she passed me, almost turning to me for a hug but I raised my hands and arms as if to say 'don't touch me' as I backed away from her, bringing an even louder cry from Carrie as she left to sleep on the couch.

My sleep was ok, I guess. Somewhat fitful. I slept in given how late I was up and how emotionally tired and drained I felt after the night's physical and mental exertions.

In the morning I got up and headed to the kitchen where I smelled freshly brewed coffee. Carrie was up, looking just as bad as before she went to bed, probably not having slept much. I poured a cup and went up to my home office and powered up my laptop.

Upon opening my email, there were over 20 emails with video attachments and about as many with attached pictures. Then there were emails with attached pictures of some of the women who I danced with, complete with their address and phone numbers and invitations to dinner, some with enough innuendo that it was easy to see what they wanted from, or with me.

What I really wanted to do is start working on the to-do list for Scarlett the attorney. So I began compiling all the banking and asset information into PDFs and saved it to the cloud and a USB drive to give her. I also made a folder for all the videos and pictures.

When done, I quickly dressed, grabbed my laptop bag and headed out. "Wait! Wait, Garrett, where are you going? Please, we need to talk!"

I simply ignored my wife. I knew I was being an asshole about this, perhaps I should have at least been a little kinder to her, after all, we had been married seven years. But at this point, last night had been enough, more than enough emotion spent and I think I just didn't want to get into anything for now.

It was certainly rough on my wife, but Carrie knew better. She knew better the entire time we were at the party. She knew what was happening when she danced all those dances in a row with Joey, without asking me, without dancing with me, and then avoiding me in favor of a romantic and sensual session on the balcony. And there's no way she didn't know what was going to happen in the privacy of the conference room.

So many opportunities to stop, so many opportunities to turn Joey away, so many opportunities squandered, squandered like the seven years of our marriage.

And I believe it all started earlier at work by not turning down Joey's advances, touches, winks, and smooth lines.

Scarlett told me she usually didn't take men on as clients, but as a favor to my boss she agreed to take me on. Evidently my boss was one of her favorite clients given how dastardly his wife had cheated on him and conspired to take him for everything. Scarlett turned the tables on her and got a fantastic settlement for my boss.

She really doesn't like cheaters, and when I told her my story she was intrigued. "Garrett, why after seven years would she do this, and in such a public setting? Don't you find that curious?"

"Frankly, Scarlett, I haven't thought of that and I don't really know. All of this was completely unexpected. She's turned down and turned away plenty of guys while we were dating and throughout our marriage."

"Do you think she was drunk or drugged?"

"No, not at all. She was cognizant the entire time. Sure, she had a few drinks but wasn't tipsy or slurring words or glassy eyed. When she passed up dancing with me, it was purposeful. When she disappeared to the bathroom and eventually found on the balcony with Joey she knew what she was doing."

"Do you have any guess as to why Joey, of all the potential men she could have been with?"

"Yes, Scarlett, I do. He fancies himself an alpha male, and probably is a successful one. When we were introduced we immediately recognized the competition between us. It might be that he felt going after my wife was his way of one-upping me, winning."

"Well Garrett, it seems he picked the wrong man to try and one-up." Smiling, she turned to the materials I brought and we began to review them and plot our strategy. There were all the usual things to do with splitting the assets, closing credit cards, setting up new accounts.

"Garrett, are you content with a simple divorce and asset split? Or are you out for blood with your wife and her company?"

"I've already made a deal with Carrie's boss to keep her employed in return for me not suing. I don't want to pay alimony. But what do you mean about being content, being out for blood with Carrie?"

"I was just wondering, as a so-called 'alpha,' don't you want some revenge on your soon to be ex-wife?"

Pausing to look at her with my eyebrow raised, I replied, "So-called alpha?" then remained silent.

She smiled and accepted my silence for what seemed a long time. Of course, any pause of 15 seconds or longer seems like minutes. It didn't bother me, it is what she said that bothered me.

"Did that offend you, Garrett?"

"Maybe. Just wondering what you're trying to imply. Are you questioning my manliness? Are you thinking I'm weak with my wife? Do you believe I'm not in control of myself or that I'm being manipulated by my wife? Just say it Scarlett. I've already paid your fee. Obviously I'm here taking action, not letting this go. You might as well be direct, especially if you consider yourself a so-called 'shark' of an attorney."

Again, she smiled but this time her eyes glanced down for a moment. At that time I realized that Scarlett, too, was an alpha. Female of course, but alpha all the way.

"Fair enough Garrett. Just testing you to see if you could hold up throughout this process or if you were going to wimp out on me. I like going for blood, making people pay. Some people don't have the stomach for it."

"Look Scarlett, we've been married seven years and for the most part things have been good, even great at times. I thought we had a marriage like everyone else. To be honest, I do love her. And again to be honest, it really hurts that she cheated on me. I do have feelings, though from my violent and public actions last night one might not believe that."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll need therapy in time to deal with all of this," she said in a kind and understanding voice.

"Probably, yeah." I sat and looked at my hands for a moment. "But going scorched earth on her? I don't know. Last night she completely embarrassed herself and will have to live with that while at work, seeing all those coworkers who saw her naked, her cum drenched slit, her humiliation. Likely there'll be pictures and videos sent around by her co-workers, maybe posted up on social media. It will be hard to go to work every day.

"Maybe that's punishment enough?" I looked at Scarlett who seemed to be taking in not only my words, but the feelings as well.

"Oooo-kay," she said slowly. "I guess what I'm saying is that there is an asset split that's pretty standard, she won't get alimony, and you don't have kids to worry about. You said you'll sell the home and, as it's in your name, you can list it immediately. That would force her to have to find somewhere to move, especially since the housing market is hot right now."

I nodded in agreement.

"But the real money is in the company. Why aren't you going after the company for not having a fraternization policy, for not nipping this early?"

"Well, as I told you, I made a deal with the owner to keep Joey and Carrie employed."

"But nothing's in writing, Garrett." Scarlett clearly was one aggressive attorney. I began to realize that a simple divorce wasn't a huge money-maker for her, but her cut of a settlement with the company would be much better.

"True, but going back on my word? Sorry, I can't do that." Suddenly I had another thought. "But, there may be another way."

Scarlett leaned in.

"There's another man who is the victim of Joey's philandering, a good guy but has a hard time standing up for himself. His wife is gorgeous, and they both work at the company. I think you could help him with a divorce, and also go after the company."

"Now you're talking Garrett! And let's pretend he agrees to this, you know, if I find a few others who've suffered like this then it can be a class-action suit and you can be included in the class. It wouldn't be just you violating your word to Prentis."

I called up the simp, actually his name was Herbert (!), and we agreed to meet for lunch with Scarlett to discuss this strategy. Turns out, he was all in. Herbert was growing a set of balls.

"So why, Herbert, are you in on this? I thought I set you up pretty well with Prentis."

"And I appreciate that Garrett, truly. Evidently Prentis' gratitude toward you in granting me a meeting didn't extend very far. He was complimentary of my work and contributions but I don't think I came across that well. He's a strong personality and I could tell he didn't respect me. So, he dismissed me and encouraged me to work harder. As if I haven't been doing that already. So I'm all in on this. Burn them all!"

By the time I got home that Saturday afternoon another car was in the driveway, Carrie's parents. "Here we go," I muttered to myself. I wasn't looking forward to this, even though I knew I was the aggrieved party.

As I walked in Carrie was still in her PJs and bathrobe on the couch with her mother sitting next to her with her arm around her. Her father, ever the alpha, had a stern face sitting across from them. He rose, walked over to me and pulled me out the doorwall onto the back deck.

"Son," he said, "Look, this isn't a good situation at all. Not at all, and I'm sure you're pissed and I assure you I'm pissed. But listen to me: Don't go off half-cocked and do something stupid. Think this through and let it sit a while. That's my best advice."

He's a little taller than me at 6'3" so he looked down slightly at me. With his tone and look that height was meant to be intimidating in a fatherly way. The problem was what I was about to say to him.

"First off, Carrie and I haven't even talked about last night. Second, I don't know what she's told you so my response might be a little crude for you to hear, but here's the bottom line: She cheated on me in full view of a public audience with pictures and videos that are probably all over the internet by now.

"You don't want me to do something stupid? Like leave her? Is that what you're saying? Are you telling me you'd stay with your wife if she humiliated you in public? You'd turn in your man card?"

My father-in-law is a good man. I do respect him. But what I said certainly put him in an awkward situation. For a fact I know he would not be willing to be embarrassed publicly by his wife, nor by any woman. He's old school alpha.

So he took a step back and said, "Damn shit fuck!" Before turning to go back inside, straight to my liquor cabinet to grab a bottle and a few glasses, then sat back down in front of the women. I gathered my thoughts - after all, it was time to say something to Carrie.

"Carrie, I convinced your boss to keep you employed. You still have your job. I'm not out to destroy you, you've done that to yourself. But you've also destroyed us. I'm putting the home up for sale, so you'll have to find a place to live probably in the next month or so.

"You won't be living with me and..." Before I could continue she burst out crying and fell on the floor at my feet, grabbing my legs.

"Garrett, noooo, please, NOOOOO! I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry! Please don't leave me!"

My heart did go out to her, but as she was on the floor I had a vision of her spread out on the floor in the conference room when she fell off the chair, and in the hallway when I threw her down in the middle of the crowd.

"Carrie, it's over. We had a good run, but you've been cheating on me before last night. Haven't you? Tell the truth."

Her mother spoke up, "What? Carrie, is that true?"

My wife sat up on her knees and wiped her nose on her robe sleeve and nodded.

Her father barked, "Speak up!"

She jumped at the command, and said, "He flirted with me a lot, actually with a lot of women. But somehow I, well I'm not sure but he has this way of making a girl feel desirable. I'm not the only one it's happened to. He's been with a number of the women in the office. He has a reputation."

Her father interrupted, "Well, now so do you! If he had a reputation then why did you even respond to him? Growing up you always had to put boys in their place. I know you did it since you married too! So why give in to him, of all people? And he was someone from work! It wasn't like you were at a bar getting hit on!"

Carrie looked like a little girl getting scolded by her father. I don't know how she held it together, but perhaps her emotions were so worn out that she could stay in a more factual frame of mind.

"I don't know Dad. The women would talk about it in the restrooms or at lunch. It was almost like there was a club of women who got to experience Joey and some of us felt left out. So when he'd flirt or touch us or invite us out we'd feel special, like we were part of the clique."

"Oh Carrie, Carrie, Carrie," her mother moaned, shaking her head disapprovingly then she looked at me about to speak.

"Did you ever think of me when he was flirting or touching you? Did you ever think of our marriage? Did you remember my position on infidelity? Didn't any of that come to mind?"

Carrie had yet to look me in the eyes, but all she could do was shake her head to say "no."

Well, at least she was being honest.

I got a pad of paper and a pen, pushing them into her hands. "If you have any hope of staying together, I want you to make a list of every woman who he fucked, and another list of every woman he flirted with and touched. Now."

At this point Carrie looked up at me with a confused, questioning look. I pointed at the notepad as if to say "do it."

Her father looked at me with squinty eyes, trying to figure out where I was going with this. Her mother helped Carrie back on to the sofa and urged her to start on the lists.

I motioned her father back outside to the deck and told him, "Look, I've already started the divorce process. She'll be served sometime this week. I'm going after the company as well which you probably figured out from the names list. I don't know how we can stay together after all this, maybe we can. But for now she's got to move out. I'm not going to stay in the same home with her for now. I'd appreciate your support in this."

My father-in-law frowned and I got the feeling he was going to object so I cut him off. "Look, it's all too raw right now. I can hardly look at her. We need some space, some thinking time - both of us. But this is my home, and I'm not the one who literally fucked up. Got it? So if you want to argue this, then perhaps we don't have the relationship I thought we had."

My firm voice, wide stance, focused eyes all spoke more than the words I just said. He simply said, "Got it," and went back inside.

Carrie passed me the notepad and I was quite surprised. "You mean he's already slept with seven women? Wait, your name isn't on the list! That makes eight! And everyone knows about this at the office?"

Sheepishly she said, "Well, not everyone - or at least not everyone talks about it. It's more like the women in our department and they keep it to themselves for the most part."

"So Carrie, have there been any divorces or separations from Joey's fucking your co-workers?"

She flinched at the word "fucking," and said, "I think there's a divorce pending and two separations so far." I had her note those on the lists.

"You've got to pack some clothes and leave with your parents." Her face showed panic. "We need space right now, at least I do. We can talk later. You go to work Monday and just do your job, don't do something stupid and quit. Just mind your own business and avoid everyone that you can. Don't say anything about these lists, you understand me?"

"But Garrett, please let me stay. I want to be with you. I need to be with you."

"Not now. Tell me you understand what I just said about these lists Carrie. Do you understand?"

"What are you going to do?"

"Not for you to know. I don't trust you with much of anything right now. You'll be served divorce papers next week to get things started. Don't panic! We don't have to go all the way, but there's a hell of a lot of things to think about and do before we, or that is, I decide to stay with you.

"All I'm telling you is, do what the fuck I tell you to do without question. Do not mention these lists to anyone! If you do, then that's the final nail in the coffin of our marriage. Do. You. Fucking. Understand. Me?"

Carrie was as scared as I'd ever seen her when she looked at me and said softly, "Yes."

As she was carrying a suitcase out to her car, her mother came up to me and gave me a nice hug and told me she loved me and how sorry she was for what Carrie did to me. It was at this point I was glad Carrie was out of the house because the emotion finally hit me. I held my mother-in-law and cried on her shoulder as she patted me on the back in that motherly way.

I stood on the porch and watched Carrie about to get into the car. "Hey Carrie!" I yelled over to her. "Don't forget to get a STI test before we talk again!"

With that statement and simultaneous realization she crumpled to the ground in tears, while her mother came around the car to help her up while giving me a disappointed, disapproving look.

Scarlett thought the list was golden. Her investigators were able to interview quite a number of affected employees and their husbands. The fact that a divorce was in-process yielded a valuable set of evidence, and the two separated couples were quite willing to spill their guts at where everything had taken place, starting at the company offices.

Carrie DID flip out when she was served the divorce petition, and her father helped her retain an attorney, but I had Scarlett slow walk all this until we knew if there was enough for a class action.

It took several months for the class action to come together, but when it did it was like a nuclear bomb going off at the company. Work basically stopped for the day because the cause of action was the only thing being discussed that day.

The evening news picked up on it, and even found plenty of pictures on the internet of several of the affairs. It might be that some of the investigators' pictures had somehow leaked in order to make this more public and create more pressure on the company to settle.

A few of the pictures were the inglorious pictures of Carrie, and of Joey, with portions pixelated to meet censorship guidelines of the news organizations. Of course, those certainly helped my case and the class' case as well!

Preston was beside himself with the media that created a backlash among clients, plus, many who had spouses working at the company insisted their spouse resign due to the hostile work environment. Some asked to be joined in Scarlett's suit.

Over the few months that all this legal activity was proceeding, Carrie tried to come home many times. I had changed the locks and garage code, but it didn't stop her waiting on the doorstep for me. Nor did it stop her from showing up at my work, or waiting in the parking lot.

Nor did it stop her mother and father from calling and visiting and pestering me to forgive her and reconcile.

Here was my problem with all this: Everyone knows about it. Even if she wasn't displayed in a pixelated pose that clearly implied everything, everyone would know, all her co-workers would have known from the throw-down at the party. And several of them know me, and word would get around.

Her mother was kind over the following weeks in attempting to reason with me, until she got frustrated and referred to my "fragile male ego" preventing me from reconciling.

"Fragile"? As in easily broken, as in flimsy, delicate?

Fuck that shit!

When she got to her own home crying, her husband was furious, wanting to know why I would have thrown her out of my home. To her credit, she did admit that she tried to shame me into getting back with Carrie by referring to my fragile male ego.

Well, if she was crying when I threw her out, she cried even more when her husband threw her out and told her not to come back for a week! You know where she went? Back to my house.

FML.

I let her sleep in the guest room and asked my father-in-law to bring over some clothing and toiletries. When he stopped in I told him he was a real asshole to his wife, but he smiled at me, and I smiled back.

Yeah, we get it. Yep. We're not really the passive type.

Things were interesting at my home now, with my mother-in-law beginning to take over household duties. I was getting a great breakfast and homemade dinner. The home was vacuumed and dusted nicely, and she even did my laundry and changed the beds. Nice!

But she also came to hear a few things. Over the time the lawsuits were proceeding, I had decided to reply to some of the emails and phone numbers I was given. The conversations were real nice, some included a lot of flirting, and a few were arrangements for dinner dates and/or a movie.

"Garrett, do you really need to talk with other women now? You're not even divorced and you could get back with Carrie. You know how distraught she is, how she learned her lesson, how she'd never do anything like this again!"

"Oh, I know that? How do I know that? Here's the problem Mom, once a promise is broken it is never ever fixed. If we got back together, do you realize every statement, every commitment, every agreement would always be questionable, uncertain? There will always be mistrust."

"It doesn't have to be that way Garrett."

"True, it won't be that way if I'm a pussy, if I just give in, if I'm just ignorant, if I'm just oblivious to the potential of getting cheated on and taken advantage of again.

"Tell me Mom, in all the years you've known me, do you think I'm "just" this or that in anything? Or am I all-in on pretty much everything?"

She hung her head for a moment, then rested it in her hands. That was probably the moment she knew her daughter's marriage was over. But she didn't give up.

Shortly after I received a text from Carrie asking if we could get together and just talk. We were now several months into the lawsuits. My feelings were that things were proceeding along the lines that Scarlett and I have strategized and actually going pretty well, however, having my mother-in-law hanging around my home was probably not the best situation, and perhaps if I spoke with Carrie I could be on my own once again.

Especially since some of my, well, flirting with some of those women over the phone was starting to yield some possibilities. I didn't need the MIL hovering.

We met at a coffee shop like it seems most people do nowadays. Carrie dressed nicely in a short sleeve sundress, flowing nicely on her beautiful body with her hair nicely curled around her shoulders. She really was a beautiful woman.

But her eyes looked deeper, sunken, with no sparkle. She walked to the table sheepishly, perhaps humbly, as if she shouldn't intrude. I stood up when she came in and asked her to sit down.

"Looking good Carrie. I'm happy Joey's taking such good care of you," I said as sincerely as I could, knowing it would both hurt her feelings, remind her of why we're separated, maybe piss her off. For all I know they may or may not be together, but I didn't really care. When I said that I had the realization I was really an asshole. Evidently I wasn't over the hurt. I had not yet processed any of this properly, and realized I should probably get some therapy regardless.

"I'm not with Joey, Garrett. I've never really been with Joey."

"Correction, Carrie. I saw you with him. You were way too familiar with him so don't lie to me. You've been with him for some time. Anyways, not to argue over it, like I said I'm glad he's treating you well."

Clearly our meet-up after these past few months wasn't going the way she thought or hoped it would. But before she started I thought I'd interrupt her plan, her pattern, just to throw her off.

"Garrett, I'm not living with him and other than passing him in a hallway or lunchroom at work I haven't seen or talked with him. In fact, he doesn't really talk with anyone at work now. You made him into a withdrawn, introverted man at work. He's practically a hermit in his office. Everyone laughs at him about how you kicked his ass."

"Now Carrie, that's the nicest thing you've said to me since you decided to fuck him and fuck up our marriage - not to mention trying to cuck me!" This I said with what I hoped was a sincere smile if only to add to what I intended as a sarcastic comment.

"Garrett, it's been a nightmare for me at work as well. I've put out applications at other companies because everyone's seen.... Well, you know what they've seen. About the only people that hang around me are other guys who think I'm easy and want to take me to dinner, supposedly, but -"

"Want to fuck you." I interrupted, while looking at her with my emotionless face.

She sighed deeply and turned red from her face to her chest in shame, looking down at the table. "Yes, obviously. I've messed up everything in my life. My job, my marriage, my relationship with my parents, and most importantly and most regrettably my relationship with you.

"Please, Garrett, please forgive me? Please? I really do love you. I know I made a huge mistake, I know that. I wish I could take it all back but I've learned my lesson, I really have. It may take some time to regain your trust, but if you can forgive me I promise you'll come to trust me again. Please?"

"That's a big ask Carrie. Huge. But I believe you're sincere in what you've just said."

Her eyes brightened along with a slight smile of hope.

"The problem isn't really yours to solve though, is it Carrie? The problem with cheating is that the cheater causes the problem, but is up to the offended spouse to somehow fix it.

"It's like you stabbed me in the back and I have to be my own surgeon to stitch myself up, somehow reaching behind me straining to somehow clean and fix the wound. That's not easy. Frankly, it's far easier to find another surgeon to put me back together."

Carrie isn't stupid. She knew I was referring to another woman to help me recover from the damage she did to her husband.

She slouched back in her chair for a moment to gather her thoughts, not wanting to confront that last statement. She only wanted reconciliation with the man she truly loved and betrayed.

"When you wanted the names of the women who Joey messed with and I cooperated, you said that if I had any hope of staying together I'd have to make up that list for you, and when you said you were starting a divorce you also said that it didn't have to go all the way.

"It's been several months now. I've kept my mouth shut, I haven't told anyone what you wanted me to do. I've cooperated with everything you wanted me to do, even moving out, even not talking to you and giving you space. Please babe, I love you, I really want to be with you - no one else. Don't you still love me?"

"Actually? Yes, I do love you. And to be honest, that pisses me off about myself. I shouldn't love you but I do. But even more than that, I do not trust you. Just like you can't un-fuck yourself, I can't suddenly re-trust you. I don't care how long we would be together in the future, it would always be in the back of my mind."

"You've seen me turn down plenty of guys Garrett. Plenty! Hundreds! I know I get hit on and I'm completely innocent. I haven't led anyone on, well, except um, Joey. He is a one-off, it won't happen again, not now, not now that I have this burned into my forehead. Surely you know that about me!"

"I suspect that's true. But let's turn this around and you walked in on me dogging some woman and I tell you it's just a one-off; that I still love you; that you can trust me; that it was just sex; that it didn't mean anything; that I've learned my lesson. Can you honestly say you'd be willing to forgive me and trust me going forward?"

"YES! Absolutely I would. All the way Garrett!"

"Easy to say that now, in a hypothetical situation, right Carrie? Tell ya' what: I've got a bunch of women interested in me who I'm considering dating or at least meeting up with. Maybe for coffee or drinks or dinner, or maybe just to hook up. How do you feel about that?"

Carrie was wide-eyed staring at me, her lips tightly closed. I could tell I hit a hot button with her and she wanted to explode at me but was in an awkward position. What could she say?

I sat and awaited her answer, eventually going back to the counter to refresh my coffee, not asking her if she wanted a refill. When I came back she was calmer but unsettled. Likely she was having difficulty coming up with the proper set of words.

With a deep sigh she began, "Honey, you've made your point. There's not much I can say and I at this point have no right to judge you."

Her response surprised me, I wasn't expecting contrition like that.

"All I can say Garrett, is that I've suffered a self-imposed injury to myself that has deeply cut into who I am as a person and especially who I am as a wife. I fear it's a pain, a wound, that will never go away. And each time I see you, think of you, dream of you, hear your voice, it's like that wound in my mind and heart cringes in pain once again.

"And worse than that, is the collateral damage I've caused to the one person who means the most to me in the world - YOU. Everything you've said makes total sense, and if the shoe was on the other foot, I'd probably be saying the same things. So what can I really say other than how deeply sorry I am for hurting you, for betraying you, for compromising your trust in me - and - that in my heart I really don't think I'd ever do this again to you.

"And with that, all I can do is ask for forgiveness and a chance to somehow, someway, earn back your trust. And I am grateful, very grateful, that you still say you have love for me."

Her eyes were glassy with tears still welling in her eyes. It probably took effort to control her emotions with those words. Those words were quite sincere and heartfelt and put me in a difficult and awkward position.

As tough as I'd like to think I am, I admit those words said so sincerely and lovingly touched my heart. I tried to hold back my emotion reflecting in my face, but I think she recognized she broke through.

But where do I go from here? This was not my plan, not what I thought this encounter would yield. All I could do at this point was punt. Or maybe, be honest.

"Those are very nice words Carrie, and unexpected. I think I understand how you feel and what you're saying." My voice cracked a little.

"I'm at a loss for words right now and conflicted. Let me be very honest with you, ok?"

She nodded with a kind smile.

"If I suddenly decided, 'ok, let's get back together' based on what you just said, I'd feel I'd be betraying myself, my principles. I'd feel like I'd be giving in to be cheated on, taken advantage of by you and by simp-y Joey. And if that's how I'd feel, then how could we have much of a relationship going forward?"

"If I decide to be an asshole and just divorce you, maybe showing off to your co-workers and others who know what happened to me, showing off that I'm not a cuck, then I might be throwing away what could be a solid relationship going forward. And that wouldn't be good either."

Her eyes slightly widened in hope.

"And if I decide to see about some other relationships first, try out some other women to see if I'd be better off elsewhere starting over and it didn't work out or didn't compare to you, then what would that mean for me and you if then I decided to get back with you? Would you even want to get back with me then? And if you did, how could we have much of a relationship going forward?

"So, at the moment, I really don't know what to say. I'm going to need some time."

With the forefinger of each hand Carrie wiped the tears away that were about to roll down her cheek. "I've really messed things up, haven't I?" she groaned.

"Look, Garrett, I am sincere in what I said. I think I can make you happy in the long run if you let me. It will be a lot of work for both of us, but we know each other pretty well and up to this, well, up to what happened, we've done pretty good together.

"And we still love each other. That's something. But I don't want you to betray your principles. And I don't want you to divorce me. And I don't want you to see other women. But, and this is hard to say, if you did see other women it might be the best for now."

My brows raised in surprise. "Really! How? Why would you say that?"

"Because then it would really be up to me to let it happen and wait for you to come back to me. And if you did, after what I've done to you, I'd have no right to refuse your forgiveness and take me back. And if we did get back together after you found no one else, then it seems that your mind would be made up that I'm the right person for you and you would be committed to making our marriage work.

"And from my end, I'd be committed to making this all up to you as well. I wouldn't have any right to bring up any of your relationships you tried with other women, and you wouldn't have any right to bring up what happened with Joey. In a sense, it would be an equal and fresh start for both of us."

"Wow, that's some serious rationalizing Carrie."

"Think about it Garrett. You might find someone better which would be good for you and you'd be able to put me and Joey in the past. I'd be devastated, but this is all my fault anyways. Or you might just get some revenge sex that might help you rationalize that you got your pound of flesh from my cheating, and then be satisfied coming back to me. Or, hopefully, you do not get satisfaction and realize I'm truly the one to spend the rest of your life with.

"Doesn't that make sense Garrett?"

I was stunned. "Just, just um. Shit Carrie. I need some time to absorb this."

This conversation certainly didn't go the way either of us thought it would. Yet, it was a completely honest conversation by two adults discussing serious things addressing the raw reality of life and relationships.

One might say it was productive, even positive in moving things forward.

Leaving the diner I didn't know where to go. I decided to go for a walk on a trail around a lake to think. Surely I'm not the only one who has been deep in thought and upon looking at the time realized it's been hours. How many times did I make that circuit around the lake?

What I decided was that of the three ways this could go, the third was the most obvious solution. It would mean a complete break, a divorce, followed by an exploration of other women and relationships, sex, and potential future -- whatever it may be.

Completing the divorce would be the evidence to all that I did not accept the cheating and did not betray my principles. It would put a period at the end of our marriage, and would put all this Joey business in the past.

Seeing other women would give me perspective on relationships, a comparison with what I might need to go through constructing a new life with someone as compared to going back to Carrie with all our good history and continuing on in a more familiar relationship.

It would show if Carrie could put up with my dating and hopefully sexual relationship(s), if I felt comfortable doing that, and if there was really someone else I could build a new life with.

Of course there were risks inherent in this, just like there would be risks staying with Carrie. I was feeling justified with this decision because I had unwillingly been put in this position.

Scarlett thought from a legal viewpoint it was best to wrap up the divorce and its settlement, before coming to terms with the class action lawsuit so as to protect any award I receive from being split in the divorce.

Carrie and her parents sat down with me at her parent's home. "Carrie, you and your parents and myself have had a wonderful relationship most of the seven years we've been married, and I hope to keep some sort of relationship with all of you, hopefully. At least a cordial relationship."

Carrie and her mother smiled expectantly, while her father's eyes narrowed and head turned slightly to the side. He heard different words than the women did.

"Which means, unfortunately, that I've decided to complete the divorce process."

My mother-in-law gasped while Carrie pursed her lips and slowly nodded in acceptance and surprisingly, reached her hand across the table and took my hand. "Garrett, thank you for putting so much thought into your decision. I love you, and I trust your judgement. I wish you all the best, you deserve the best. If things don't work out, I hope we might have another chance in the future."

She stood up and came around the table and kissed my cheek. I could tell her lips were quivering. Then she picked up her purse and left the home.

Over the next few months I had quite a few dates, which surprised me. I had never been that active a dater when I was single so this must have been some sort of PTSD reaction or psychological revenge action or some form of catching up or running away. I clearly could use a therapist!

But here's the thing. I'm attractive, I've got game, I can get women to date me or sleep with me. Is the sex enjoyable? Yeah, for the most part. Once a cock is stiff it takes over and all thoughts cease. I confirmed I was good in bed with women, but I already knew that from Carrie's reactions in our sex and love making.

But .....

Where's the emotional connection? Why is there a yearning for more than just the physical feelings and release? Why is there emptiness after emptying my balls? Even the post-coital cuddling is missing something, even when the woman is happy and grateful, a leg leaning over mine as she falls asleep on my chest?

There's no history. No conflict. No making up. No deep connection.

Why can't I go farther in these relationships? Some of these women are really nice and want a deeper relationship, clearly! So... the problem isn't them. It's me.

Moments of truth: Either avoid them and suffer the rest of one's life, or admit and confront them and move forward even if it's difficult.

The truth is that I loved Carrie and our history, and the hurt I felt was because I love her. I can be a tough guy, even an asshole at times. I can control my emotions. I can be the top dog, the alpha. But it doesn't mean I don't have feelings, and my feelings were for Carrie.

A year after the divorce I had given up dating for several months and was lonely and miserable. This showed me I didn't like being single, not after the good I once had in a relationship. And dating had not gotten me any closer to a relationship.

I was going to text Carrie, but thought that was the weak move. So I manned up and called her.

It rang once, twice, three, four times. I thought I'd get voicemail when just as the fifth ring started I heard "hello" said as if it was a question. Unless she had deleted my number from her phone I knew that she knew it was me.

"Hello Carrie, it's Garrett. Did I catch you at a bad time? Do you have a moment?"

After a short pause, "Um, hi Garrett. Uh, yeah, I mean no it's not a bad time. What, well, I mean, what can I do for you?"

I swallowed hard, "Carrie, I was wondering if you had time to maybe meet me somewhere, maybe a coffee shop or a park or something. If you have time, I'd really like to talk with you."

This time the pause was longer. I could hear her clearing her voice. "Well, sure I guess. Is there a time and place you have in mind?"

I suggested a bench in the park and that I'd bring her favorite coffee and she agreed. But, just before I thought we'd hang up she asked, "Garrett,? One thing?"

"What's that Carrie?"

In a very soft voice she said, "Why?"

The softness and vulnerability in her voice with that question devastated me. At that moment I felt so guilty for having left her, divorced her, slept around on her or actually on her memory. My voice broke as I tried to hold back the guilt creeping into my voice.

"Us. I want to talk about us."

Again a lengthy pause. I wasn't sure she was still there, but then, "Ok honey, I'll see you there."

She called me "honey."

Standing in line for coffee on the way to the park, memories flooded my mind from years ago when I was anxious to see my new girlfriend, picking up her favorite coffee, hoping to continue making a good impression on the beautiful girl I was falling for.

What a difference from my emotions now, standing in that same line for the same coffee order, hoping once again for a future. Only now with some trepidation. Is she the same person I dated all those years ago? Am I the same person, especially after how I treated her during and after the divorce? How do I explain my feelings after having dated and slept with other women? How will she react?

She was already sitting on the bench when I arrived at the park and got up as she saw me approach. I held out her coffee and as she took it in one hand she wrapped her other arm around me and hugged. I hugged back with my open arm, and we actually held each other longer than I expected.

As we stepped apart and looked at each other we realized we each had glassy eyes. We smiled, without words, sat our coffee cups down on the bench, and went to each other for a full hug, wrapping both arms around each other tenderly but firmly, our heads tucked into each other's neck.

Onlookers might have thought these were two young lovers in deep embrace. The truth was there in the embrace, the truth of years of familiarity, mutual hurt, mutual acceptance.

As I held her I thought I had enough courage to say what I wanted without looking in her eyes, just in case she rejected me. I turned my head to whisper in her ear, "Carrie, I love you. I miss you. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I want you to take me back. Please."

Her arms were still hugging me, but I felt them hug me tighter and her chest heave into my chest with silent sobs. But were they sobs of sadness or regret, or sobs of happiness and acceptance?

The hug seemed to go on forever, but likely was maybe a minute or so. When we broke our embrace and still held on to each other we looked into each other's eyes. Carrie spoke first.

"Yes, Garrett. I want you back too. I've never stopped loving you."

While this was what I wanted to hear, something inside of me was rebelling against the sappy situation. The alpha in me was saying 'accept this and move on' while the heart in me was saying 'you better confess and get this out of the way.' I laughed inwardly, imagining those cartoons with a devil on one shoulder arguing with the angel on the other.

"Carrie, I have to confess something to you first. I took option three and tried it out. We weren't married any longer, I know, but I still feel I cheated on you. I was with other women. Sexually. And I don't want to use any of the well-worn excuses. All I can say is, emotionally it wasn't satisfying. It wasn't you. It wasn't us.

"I've been by myself for a few months now, lonely, no connection to anybody, no one to share anything with, at least no one that cares. Since all this started, and I'm not blaming you or throwing anything in your face - please don't think that, I'm past all that. What I'm saying is that I think I had to hit bottom myself just to realize what I really wanted, what I really needed. And that was you.

"No matter what's happened to either of us, I'd rather go through the rest of my life with you than with anyone else. And if not with you then with no one else if that's the way it has to be. But, I'm hoping against hope you'll forgive me and take me back."

She looked into my eyes, my face flush with humiliation and embarrassment at my admissions. Her hand slowly rose to cup my cheek as she leaned her forehead against mine for a moment. Then she backed away enough to look into my eyes. "There's nothing to forgive honey, only the future to live."

Then she closed her eyes and kissed me. It was like the first kiss of a girl to a virgin boy. Soft, tender, sensual, while also electric and exciting, creating an anticipation and hunger that would need to be filled. In moments the tenderness turned to passion as we let loose our emotions.

* * * *

Our story would seem to have one of those "happily ever after" endings, but in real life that just doesn't happen. Life isn't some epilogue neatly wrapped up in a paragraph or two.

After one's wife cheats and becomes an ex-wife and the ex-husband has multiple sexual relationships you just can't expect everything to go back to normal. What the hell is "normal" anyways? There will be the constant shadow of mistrust even on the sunniest of days, the specter of sadness washing across a face now and then, a suspicion of subterfuge when seeing a phone held at an angle, a late work meeting, a glance at some attractive person of the opposite sex.

But for the most part, after a few legal documents setting forth financial boundaries based on physical relationship boundaries, we were back together, remarried and working on our communication. Frankly, our relationship became deeper and communication more forthcoming. In fact, it seemed our initial efforts to communicate became a little silly, informing each other of the most mundane items, to-do's, and schedules out of an abundance of caution.

In time, we learned to relax more and after another year passed we had settled into a nice routine, much like before all the shit went down.

Of course into each "normal" life of ups and downs, just like for every hill one climbs there is a downhill, our hill crested and then things went downhill.

We didn't know it at the time we made the reservations across the State at a nice all-inclusive on a lake with a beautiful beach, pool, and recreational activities. If anything, things were going so well for us. At work Carrie had lived down her past, the gossip, humiliation, and come-on's and actually earned a promotion and raise while Joey disappeared for other pastures.

Imagine our shock and surprise the evening of our check-in when we went to the hotel bar for a drink while waiting for our dinner table reservation when we overheard a bunch of guy-talk of the frat-boy mentality from several men at the end of the bar. And one of them was not called Joseph or Joe. No, everyone called him Joey.

Carrie's face displayed shock. She was truly scared, her cocktail vibrating out of the glass as her hand was shaking. "Put your glass down babe. It's ok, I've got you. Don't worry." But she looked at me, fearfully and uncertain.

"What do we do Garrett? We've got to leave, we have to get out of here. Let's just go home!" she said so rapidly it was hard to separate her words. "Who knows what he'll try, and who are those guys with him! Garrett, I'm scared!"

"Carrie, I've got this. We've got this. He won't mess with us, and if he does, I'll handle it like I did before."

"But Garrett, there's more of them this time! Let's just leave. The memories I have, I, I... "

She was on the verge of tears and I was about to take her hand and leave to find the concierge and find another restaurant when, of course, we heard, "Hey hey hey! Look who's here! The cuck and the slut! Hey babe, want to show me that ass again? Hey guys, this is one fine piece of ass and her cuck husband!"

The group of four were walking over to us with wide smirks in a jaunty walk, confident in their masculinity, groupthink, and boldness in numbers. One of his crew said, "Shit Joey, look at the legs on her! They'd wrap around my ass and pull me into that sweet love canal!" while another said, "Yeah while her lips were wrapped around my johnson!" Joey stood looking directly at the upper flesh of her breasts, supported nicely in her scooped top. He made an exaggerated swipe of his tongue across his lips.

They laughed as they stood around us as I leaned against the bar, my wife's face displaying fear.

"Calm down Carrie," said Joey. "Guys, that's close to the face as she orgasmed when I was fucking her. She's tight and squeezes a cock like a pro when she's coming. Hey Carrie, why not dump this cuck of a husband and hang out with some real men. We'll be sure to give you a good time."

"I'm right here Joey," I countered. "Funny how you can't look at me, especially after I kicked your ass last time. Want to try me again?"

"Nah cucky. But I'll try your wife again! You don't mind, do you? Do you Carrie?"

"Leave my wife out of this. It's between me and you, Joey." I was surprised how calm I was.

"There isn't a me and you, cuck. It's me, you, and my three buddies. Still want to try now?"

Here's the thing about bullies and threats. Like I said earlier, even if you're going to lose a fight, you're still going to get in some hits. The question is, do the other guys want to risk taking the hits and, can they take the hits? In many cases when you're up against more than one opponent, if one or two guys get hit or hurt early, it makes the others think twice and sometimes not even get involved.

Plus, there's a lot of bluffing. And when there's a lot of words, it means they're usually bluffing.

So I stood up from the bar and faced Joey to answer his question with a flat unemotional face: "Yeah. Yeah I do, Joey. Let's do it, you simp-y, micro-dick, big mouth talker. Last I remember, you were balled up on the floor crying like a baby." Looking over to his pals, I poked, "C'mon guys, you're his friends, you've seen the videos of him whimpering haven't you? I think I even heard him calling for his mommy."

His friends looked a little puzzled, their smiles faded into concern. I turned my face back to Joey, "Well, Joey, let's do it. How about now?"

There was a stare-down for a few moments. The key in a stare-down is unwavering, prolonged eye-contact holding a confident pose, the mouth and eyes unmoving, not flinching or twitching, while trying to breathe normally without deep or shallow breaths.

Whoever shows the most unwillingness to yield wins and dominates. Of course, if one is about to waver they might physically lash out and start the fight. Or, if they're about to waver they might do what Joey did: Laugh.

He threw his head back and began laughing as if he heard the funniest joke in the world. This was his way of diffusing the situation, probably because the venue wasn't appropriate for a fight at the moment, or maybe because he saw his buddies wavering. But laughing during a stare-down is also another way to assert superiority and imply that the person laughing is not intimidated or concerned.

"Garrett, Garrett, Garrett, I admit you've got balls but I'm gonna let you go this time. I don't want to embarass you in front of this beautiful creature. I'm not sure you could take any more humiliation after I fucked her in front of you last time!"

His friends laughed, partly out of relief from a situation I believe they didn't want to confront, and also to support their buddy Joey.

"Hey Carrie, see ya' around. Look us up for a good time when you want some good action!" he said over his shoulder as they left the bar.

Carrie slumped in her barstool and put her head in her hands as her elbows rested on the bar top. I put my arm around her shoulders and said, "Told you, I had this. Have confidence in me Carrie."

Saturday and Sunday at the resort we occasionally saw Joey's crew around the pool and hotel but they stayed away and didn't engage us. We enjoyed the pool, pool volleyball, and jet skis on the lake, and played a fun round of golf. We went into the small lakeside town and window shopped, ate and drank and forgot about those guys.

Monday the resort seemed to empty out from the weekend guests and it was much quieter, which made it so nice to hang out at the pool with our choice of chairs, easy access to the bartenders and poolside service.

My wife looked good in her bikini, her bottom wrapping around those ass cheeks so nicely, with the low cut in the front teasing views of what was just below with the low rear just high enough to hide her ass crack. It wrapped around her hips with that small little string displaying plenty of hip skin while up top her tits were sufficiently covered with the strings holding them up nicely.

Keeping her doused in suntan lotion was a pleasant task for me, her husband!

While I'm not a heavy drinker, only a beer and a margarita for the day followed by plenty of water in the hot sun, Carrie enjoyed her fruity cocktails and had a nice buzz. When it got hot she'd take a walk on the splash deck of the pool, also known as a sun shelf, that ankle deep portion of those resort pools some people place their chairs in so their feet are cool while they enjoy the sun. She said she was going to rinse off the suntan oil so she could go for a swim in the pool.

As she walked over to the showers on the other side of the pool behind a wall, I decided to lay back and take a nap. I put on my sunglasses and decided to lay back and ogle the few beauties walking around or swimming. It's a guy thing we do while wearing sunglasses and keeping our head steady. But trust me, guys eyes are sliding back and forth admiring the views.

A thought popped into my head during a break in the parade of bathing beauties, that Carrie wasn't back from the showers and swimming in the pool. I thought that was curious, enough time had passed. Then it hit me, that shadow of suspicion always lurking, the question of 'what was Carrie doing?'

There were a few beach bodies of good looking men around the pool and down on the beach, a few sitting at the bar. Did she once again stray, maybe her emotions, or perhaps the alcohol making her forget what she put me through before?

Isn't this the problem deciding to live with a cheater, even after this last year of reconciliation and working through all the shit that happened in our marriage. "Once a cheater, always a cheater!" The phrase was front and center in my mind now, and I was getting pissed again.

I got up and headed with a sure and intentional walk over to the shower area. Anyone seeing my gait and face surely would have had some concern there was a problem, yet everyone was buzzed, drunk, or oblivious to much else other than the hot bodies around the pool or bar.

I went around the wall and there was no one in the showers! They were all turned off. And there was no Carrie. Now I was pissed. She had to be with some guy again!

Scanning the area, the showers wall was on the far side of the pool and beyond the showers was a set of shrubs high enough to hide the maintenance sheds and parking area for the hotel staff. Going around the shrubs I looked around the parking area and nothing seemed out of place, so I went over to the sheds. Most were smaller, their doors open showing hooks for weed whips, extension cords, shelving of spare parts, pool chemicals.

So I went over to the large shed, a 1,500 square foot building with a large garage door and a regular door, both closed. It was unlocked, so I opened the door and poked my head inside, and I thought I heard laughter and voices.

Stepping inside in my bare feet I quietly walked around work tables with tools and machine parts in some stage of repair, large 55-gallon drums of whatever, shelving of boxes, tools, and parts. As I got near the rear of the building I stepped behind a wall of large pallets full of boxes and could hear everything.

"Shit this bitch is feisty! Hold her! Hold her down!" "Look at those tits. I'm gonna fuck those tits and cum on her face." "C'mon, hold that skank down! Strip her!" "Fuck, look at that bare snatch!"

Joey and his minions were laughing like hyenas, while I could hear Carrie's muffled voice. Peeking around the corner I could see a hand over her mouth to keep her from talking while her legs were kicking and she was trying to fight with her arms, which were being stretched out above her head. They were trying to lay her on a table while she was fighting, but she was losing the battle as her energy was waning.

They were going to rape her.

She was not going willingly with Joey. She was fighting back.

And I was going to fight as well. This was it, all out war. The battle of all battles, for my wife, for my marriage, for my man-card, for my ego.

It's amazing how our childhood molds our adulthood. Visions and memories and experiences can flash up and seem vivid and real. Behaviors and actions learned when young suddenly manifest themselves when triggered by an adult circumstance.

My street fights vividly lit up my mind.

Street fighting has no referee, no rules, no morals. It is hand-to-hand combat, bare knuckles. It is unpredictable, violent, and can lead to serious injuries. While death is certainly a potential outcome, usually the fight ends with one side injured and incapacitated, either unconscious or severely injured to the point of being unable to fight back.

Street fighting is everything that is not an agreed upon fight in a safe environment. And street fighting is not self-defense. It's all offense on both sides.

I was not only going on offense in the next few moments, but I was going to be as offensive as humanly possible. No half measures, a full can opened of whip-ass!

Remembering a pipe back on one of the work tables, I hustled back to grab it and went charging back just in time as Joey once again had his board shorts around his ankles as his stiff dick was about to penetrate my wife. As I turned the corner and saw this I yelled loudly, real loud, which to those not expecting it makes them jump and get distracted and confused.

That's when I body-slammed into Joey. "OOOUUUUUUFFF" came out of his mouth as our bodies hit the wall, my shoulder in his chest, the back of his head hitting the wall with force. Knowing he was stunned, I knew I had to take out his buddies quickly before they ganged up on me.

Taking out Joey temporarily only took mere seconds, whereas I was back on my feet with the pipe and only two steps from a shocked #2 when I crouched down and swung at his knee. The steel pipe went "PING" but the sound of the knee cap breaking was muffled by the scream of pain of my victim, who collapsed to the ground clutching his leg and rolling back and forth in pain, hoping to roll the pain out of his body.

Spinning around with my arm extended with the pipe caught #3 on the shoulder, though I was aiming for his head. He hadn't moved, standing there in fear of what he just saw in just the last four seconds. The blow to his shoulder didn't break anything, but remember what I said about being able to take a punch?

Some people are motivated by it, some shrivel at it and hope it doesn't happen again. This guy shriveled, especially as in fear he tried to cover when I jammed the end of the pipe into his gut, doubling him over. I launched an uppercut to his jaw, snapping his head back, his eyes stretching open at the initial shock and disbelief, as his consciousness wavered and his body slowly fell backward to the concrete floor, splayed out.

Turning to #4, the man holding his hand over Carrie's mouth, who had seen enough to get his wits around what was happening, quickly put his other hand on her throat and squeezed.

"Hold up man, you come near me and I'll rip out her throat!" he threatened, his hand still over her mouth.

"So you like picking on defenseless women? Why not try picking on me and see what you're really made of?" I shot back at him.

He smiled at me, which told me he was the most dangerous of the four. "Nah, no chance. Drop the pipe and get on your knees and put your hand behind your back and lay on your stomach until my pals can get up." This guy knew the game, probably knew some of the street.

I looked around. #2 was still rolling around holding his knee. No worry for me there. #3 was still dazed sprawled out on the ground. But Joey was standing and pulling up his board shorts and about to engage me. That's the problem when it's one on four. Just a short amount of time to even the odds, and if it wasn't for the threat to Carrie at the moment I would have had more of a chance.

Just as I was considering my options as Joey was about to come at me, I heard "OOOOWWWW!" and turned to see Carrie's mouth, actually her teeth, gripping on to #4s hand that was covering her mouth. I mean, she had a chunk of his hand, her teeth dug in up to her gums like a doberman on a criminal. It must have been painful, but it made him release her throat.

It also was that slight distraction I needed to take care of Joey who had unfortunately turned his head to look at what caused the scream, enough time for me to give a roundhouse to the side of his head, putting him off balance for a moment. Again, enough time to swing my pipe at his lower back, the hit arching his back backwards where I grabbed him around the neck and threw him down followed by the pipe right to his skull, knocking him out.

Spinning around I threw the pipe at #4 as he was struggling to release his hand from my wife's incisors. The pipe hit him in the face and happened to drop onto Carrie, but I got to him quickly and unleashed a flurry of punches to his face. Carrie had let go of the hand as I was punching him, knocking him back, rattling his mind where he couldn't get his bearings fast enough to defend himself.

Suddenly I heard another 'ping" and it was Carrie! My naked wife had grabbed the pipe and was raining blows on #4 - his arm, his hand blocking his face, then his face, his hip, his shin. She was furious and full of adrenaline! Her tits swinging sexily as she swung that pipe, jiggling with every hit, her ass cheeks flexing firm as she'd plant her tanned leg for the next swing, then vibrating ripples in those cheeks from the reverberation of every hit of the pipe.

#4 was down for the count.

Quickly I ran to a work table and grabbed a coil of 20 gauge steel binding wire and pliers, ran back to the assholes and bound their wrists behind their back and their ankles together. Carrie was still naked, her adrenaline rush fading but not enough to keep her from getting in my way, stomping on their nuts and kicking them in their face.

I had stripped off their swimsuits and board shorts with the intent to leave them naked, and found their phones in the pockets. Two were unlocked, two had lock codes. It wasn't hard to hurt them enough to reveal their lock codes.

Things happened quickly I guess. By the time #4 went down. It was only six or seven minutes total to get them stripped and tied up. Carrie was still naked, clutching the pipe, standing firm and alert, a sheen of sweat glistening on her hot tanned body from her exertions fighting off her rape.

When I was done I stood up and looked at her. Her eyes were focused but a little glassy, her emotions holding strong, holding back tears, a look of determination but slowly yielding to a lack of resolve as I stepped up to her and took her into my arms. She sobbed into my chest, "Garrett, they took me, I didn't come on to them, I didn't want to go with them!"

"I know Carrie, I know," I softly assured her. The warmth of her body, the slickness of her sweat, my love and affection for her all blended together into a passion that she felt as well. "Fuck me Garrett, fuck me now!"

Without hesitation I hoisted her onto the same table, pulled her legs over my shoulders and pulled out my cock and plunged into her. Some may call it "monkey sex," wild, passionate, primordial.

My loins were pumping into her at a fast pace, my mouth devouring her breasts while her toned thighs wrapped around my waist, locking her ankles together and gripping me in a vice pulling me into her, synchronized with my thrusts. Carrie's face was grimacing, as if to squeeze any extra amount of passion out of her mind and into her body.

The sheen of sweat on her body turned to droplets of perspiration, aiding the sliding of our bodies together in rhythm while her fingers dug into my back. Her tits were smashed against my chest while her tongue and lips danced on my face and neck, her mouth would engulf mine in hunger.

Her body began to lose control, began to tremble in ecstasy, her pussy squelching with each thrust from the natural lubrication of passion. Our heads parted briefly where our eyes met and without saying a word we both knew this was the most amazing sex we've ever had in any relationship. Our eyes screamed silently "I love you and only you!" as we fell even deeper in love.

Our bodies seemed to be melded together, the timing of the thrusts, our breathing, and the rising of our orgasms. I could feel my wife's body heat up fast and knew she was close, her face clenching and her eyes trying to narrow but stay open as her orgasm began to rip through her body, her voice screaming in beautiful agony, provoking my brain to flood with dopamine as my loins released into my wife's love channel.

Utterly spent, I lay atop her while the love chemical oxytocin bonded our emotions together. We kissed and licked each other's face, and smiled at each other as I rolled off her. No more words were said as we put our swimsuits on. We got off the table and looked at the bound bodies laying and looking at us with faces of anger, fear, passion, embarrassment. They had witnessed an amazing scene but the next few minutes would be much different for them.

I told Carrie "hit the showers and meet me back at the lounge chairs as if nothing happened. Order up a few drinks. I have to settle a few things here." She cocked her head and looked at me curiously, then left the building.

I found some dirty, greasy rags and gagged the four men and dragged them into a dirty, dusty corner in the back of the building. They had all regained consciousness and helplessly tried to struggle against their bindings. I knelt near them and told them, "someone will eventually find you and you might be tempted to snitch on me. Don't."

"I have your phones and will shortly know everything about you, and I have friends that will make sure to finish what was started here. If something happens to me, like an arrest, a beating, a traffic ticket or if something happens to my wife, from anyone, maybe not even you, then each of you will pay the price."

Before I left I pulled some cardboard boxes and pallets over and covered them up. At this point I had no qualms about their welfare. They brought this on themselves.

I showered up to rinse off the sweat, cleaned my hands and knuckles, then went back to the lounge chairs to join my wife. She was halfway through another fruity drink and had a mai tai waiting for me. We looked at each other and smiled, which turned into a nice bit of laughter to release the tension we'd been holding in.

With my own phone I called Herbert, the smart simp. "Herb, you said you're pretty smart. Do you know how to download shit off mobile phones, how to get the passwords to apps like banking accounts and personal identification information?"

"Yeah, sure Garrett. It's pretty simple if you know what you're doing. What's up?"

I told him I was going to reserve a room for him at the resort and to leave right away and come over to get these phones and enjoy a few days at the resort, bringing whatever equipment he needs. He was on his way.

Then I called one of my childhood friends from the old neighborhood, the one who had a police record and had served time several times in juvie and filled him in on my idea. He was game.

Carrie and I finished our drinks and went back to our room, and instead of raw rutting we made love to each other, reaffirming our devotion tenderly.

When Herbert arrived later we had drinks and I gave him the phones and a list of what we were looking for. He was pumped at the possibilities and went back to his room and got started.

Not only was he able to get all of their personal information like home addresses, social security numbers, banking account numbers and passwords, but he found plenty of pictures and videos of an unsavory nature.

Online banking makes setting up new accounts pretty easy, even accounts in someone else's name if you have their personal information. So Herb set up another account in Joey's name at another bank and transferred all of his money and his buddy's account balances into the new account. But there was one piece of information that was very valuable, a trust account for one of his frat buddies with a substantial balance.

Herbert and I pondered how to move that money, and decided to send Herb to the Caymans on the next flight out to set up another account, then move the trust funds over along with most of the money from the other accounts.

Meanwhile, Carrie and I continued to enjoy our time at the resort while keeping an eye out for our four 'friends.' Two days later there was a little commotion over in the staff parking lot. We saw some blue and red lights flashing for a while. Some guests left the pool area to gawk and when they came back they explained there had been a break-in and possible robbery that went bad and four men were found bound naked and were being taken to the hospital.

But no one officially came to talk to us for the rest of the week.

When we got home, Herbert was parked in our driveway waiting for us. "What a surprise Herb! What's going on?"

He came in and I pulled out a few beers while he sat at the kitchen table and layed out a piece of paper with a set of numbers. "Garrett, this is a numbered account and this is the password and web access. It's your portion of the money. For my work I took half in another account. I assume that is ok with you, right?"

"I'm impressed Herbert. Clearly you're smart and capable, but I'm impressed that you're not really asking me. You're telling me! Congratulations! You're learning."

"Thanks to you, Garrett, I'm learning. It's taken a few years to see how standing up for myself is gratifying and gives me self-respect. Even divorcing my wife, while hard, has removed a source of demeaning talk and insults. I think I'm a better man now. In fact, I've even been dating and it turns out I'm pretty good in bed too."

I stood up and shook his hand. "Herb, we've got to stay in touch. What have you been up to?"

"Remember how Prentis basically tolerated me? Well I did get a nice settlement from the class action suit that gave me walk away power and I found a great job with better pay and benefits. But he didn't know all that I did in my job, he took me for granted, and they had some serious hiccups in operations for a few months.

"Meanwhile, I divorced, moved, found a new job, took the class action money and invested it, started dressing differently, found some dates, and have a pretty active life. And now with this new-found source of funds my available choices are even wider now!"

Carrie came around and sat on my lap, taking a swig of my beer. "Herb, I'm proud of you. You deserve a good life. Let us know how we can help you, and let's stay in touch."

* * * *

The Cayman account had almost $800,000 in it. We were shocked. So I called up my childhood buddy and we arranged to meet and talk about a "project." When he agreed, I slid a piece of paper across the table to him that had a similar set of numbers to what Herb had given. After that conversation our balance in the Cayman account was down to around $500,000.

A few months later over the period of several weeks we received a series of envelopes in the mail with no return address enclosed with a printout of a web article from a local news site from four different cities. The articles were similar in their detail of a random mugging involving crushed privates, broken bones, shaved heads, and a tattoo on the forehead, "rapist." The police were trying to tie together the crimes but had no leads.

* * * *

Two years later Carrie began acting differently, quieter, somewhat withdrawn, even cagey. Though the Joey incident was nearly four years ago, the cheating was a poison that seemed to stay in the body and flare up upon certain triggers. I was nervous about broaching the subject one evening at dinner.

Carrie came to the table and sat down, her head bowed, and said, "Garrett, we need to talk." My mind went to the dark side upon hearing those four deathly words. I sat silently and looked at my wife.

She raised her head to reveal a bright smile, then her hand slid a plastic stick across the table to me with two pink lines in a little window.

Later that evening I recalled our reconciliation and everything that led up to it and since, including Carrie's words, "There's nothing to forgive honey, only the future to live."