A Storied Romance

This story has been rattling around in my head for a while and Peter seemed to want me to write it. As a "yank" I am poor at recreating British English. Anyone who has constructive suggestions on the subject would be welcomed to share them.

The story, characters, and situation are totally fictional. Any relationship between this and anyone is purely coincidental. I wrote it with a wink and a nod to one of my favorites on Literotica--GaryAPB. In no way is this trying to suggest that I am any replacement for the master! Just a poor disciple offering his first full-length story. As one who hates waiting for the nexxt installment, I offer all three parts at once so you don't have to wait. Enjoy!

- The Cobbler

*****

"Hey Peter, got a moment," Todd said, sticking his head into my office. Until Todd Brooks dropped by my office, my week had been nearly perfect.

"I've got to run down to the Quillum Building to meet with the folks at Wagner and McGee," he began. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Look this over." He waved a thin manila folder. "It's something that I need to talk to you about."

"No problem. When do you want to go over it?"

"Meet me at Doyle's Irish Pub across the corner from the Quillum at 5:00. I'm buying. Everything in the folder should be should be self-explanatory." He handed me the file and rushed from the office.

And with that, my streak of good luck ended.

Until that moment, this had been the best week I'd had at work in months. My long project was coming to a very successful end. Better yet, it didn't look like I would have to make that extra trip to London as I had been warning my wife Sara. All the dots could be checked and every "T" crossed without needing to cross the pond. I knew that Sara, my sweet wife of 7 years, would be thrilled by that news.

My recent string of overseas trips came at bad times. The last one had resulted in an argument. Sara was badly hurt that I would miss a gallery opening I had promised to attend. Since Sara is the person responsible for arranging major events for the Museum of Art, these gala events were a big deal for her. I managed to convince her that I had not planned the trip for the sole purpose of avoiding the task of escorting her to the event.

* * *

I didn't give Todd's folder much thought, setting it aside to be read when all else was finished. With my project coming to an end I would I had begun making arrangements to take a few days off. Perhaps Sara and I could spend a long weekend at that little Bed and Breakfast up by the lake.

At four o'clock, I was totally caught up. My desk was clear and I decided to leave for the day. I grabbed a legal pad and Todd's folder and headed off to Doyle's to meet Todd. I figured I could read the information over and jot down some comments while I waited.

Since I was at Doyle's, it seemed appropriate to order Guinness. After taking a long sip of the tangy stout, I opened the file for the first time. What I found was a thin dog-eared sheaf of papers with a note from Todd paper clipped to the top.

Peter,

I found this floating around my department. You need to take a close look. After you read it, you may want to skip our meeting. Don't!!! Meet me at Doyle's at 5:00 so we can talk. I'll try to get there early.

Todd

That, of course, only served to build my curiosity to a peak. In hindsight, I wished that I had tossed the whole folder in the trash. I might have been better off. My life would have turned out differently and I could have avoided a great deal of pain.

What Todd had asked me to read was a story--a romance tale with explicit sexual content. There was nothing extraordinary about my first glance. It was entitled, "My Romance" by SAM33. So what was the deal here? Why was Todd anxious to read his favorite erotic find?

I'm not a prude, mind you, but I've never made it a habit of reading things like that. My sex life with Sara was exciting enough without fantasizing about someone else! I couldn't imagine why Todd thought it important that I read this one.

It didn't take me long to see why. Right there on the first page were all the clues I needed: the names Todd and Sara, and reference to a museum gala. Clearly, SAM33 was my sweet 33-year-old wife, Sara Ann Miller. Now that was a surprise! Never in my wildest dreams did I think Sara would be into writing--much less reading--erotic literature. This story was one I was anxious to read. Perhaps Sara and I could talk about it, or relive her fantasy later.

I didn't have to read far before I began to have concerns about this story. My name never appeared in the document, but since it was written in the first person, I heard myself discussed when the narrator--my wife--referred to "my husband", or talked about having sex "in my every day life at home".

The gist of the story was of an affair between Sara and a mysterious man only referred to as "my lover". The setting of the story was clearly at the most recent museum gala--the one that I had abruptly missed. What surprised me was that the rendezvous had been long planned. There was no doubt as to the author of the story--or its authenticity. A perfect description of the medium blue dress Sara had worn that night, together with events that took place in our living room when only she and I were present. I read the story over quickly, skipping most of the scene after the gala when her paramour took her to his hotel room and fucked her all night. I had no interest in knowing the details; the thought alone made me nauseous.

T.S. Eliot wrote "April is the cruelest month". For me, March definitely looked to be the demonic one. At least it started out that way. Sara--my Sara--had cheated on me! She was the absolute last woman I would ever have expected to have been unfaithful! Sara was so reserved, betraying a very conservative set of values. The reality of what I read hurt worse than any pain I had ever felt.

* * *

I had developed a crush on Sara in the third grade. I often caught her glancing in my direction, too. She was my version of Charlie Brown's "little red-haired girl." In Sara's case, it would have been Peter Miller's "little sandy-haired girl." Neither of us ever approached the other about personal feelings because we were both painfully shy in matters of the heart.

It wasn't until the homecoming game our freshman year of high school that I worked up the nerve to approach her. I took her to the game and the dance that followed our victory. I felt so awkward that I was certain that she would never--ever--want to go out with me again. I was shocked a few days later when she approached me in the lunch room and told me what a great time she had. By the smile on her face, I could tell she wasn't just being polite.

We dated through the rest of high school. I was sure we would break up when college came, but she insisted on choosing the same university I did. By our sophomore year, we were engaged. The wedding took place in the middle of the summer after graduation. Sara was lucky enough to get a job at the museum immediately while I worked on my MBA. I signed a contract with Parker Price International just before receiving my degree.

It's not that Sara and I didn't have any major disagreements. We had a couple very difficult years during the time she was working me through school. Aside from our early rough spots, everything else between us has been a dream. Oh, yes! We did have the occasional argument--like the one when I announced to her that I would not be able to attend the gala. But that kind of thing is normal in a marriage. There was no problem between us that we could not talk through openly and resolve promptly. So why would she cheat on me?

Sara and I have always been satisfied with our sex life--or at least, I thought we were. Before we were married, we played around a bit, but legally speaking, we were both virgins on our wedding night. It was beautiful--a memory I cherished--at least to this moment.

Our sex life wasn't wild, but what it lacked in fire it more than made up in intimacy. Sara was absolutely not interested in being creative; missionary position was good enough for her. Foreplay, however, could last forever. Since we made love with great regularity, it didn't matter to me how inventive we became.

Now here I sat with the very thinly veiled description of a raucous suck and fuck night in some hotel room while I was in London! I felt waves of nausea wash over me. Todd roused me from my morose musings.

"Sorry, buddy, but I knew you'd want to see that story."

"What a fucking mess!" I said, absently swirling the last of my first Guinness. "I'm working my ass off to finish things with Ewan MacAdams at ITI's Financial Services and she's back here playing the whore."

"I hated to be the one to break the news to you, but someone had to tell you, buddy. I found that copy being passed around my department. Most all the guys have read it and know who wrote it. One of them even asked me if I ever did the dirty with your wife."

I glared at Todd. That thought hadn't occurred to me.

"I wanted to bust him in the chops for making a crack like that!" Todd growled.

I pushed the document into the middle of the table and we both stared at it as though we expected it to attack us. "Todd, when you left our house that day, you were supposed to be taking a week off to visit your in-laws in Maryland. Was that true?"

"Yes, and I can prove it. Call Anne or her parents. They'll vouch for me." He waved down a waiter and ordered another Guinness for each of us.

I averted my eyes. "Sorry, Todd. It was a stupid question."

"Peter, I'd never do something that rotten to you. But, if I were in your shoes, I'd have asked the same question."

"What a fucking mess!" I took a deep breath, brushed the moisture from my eye, and swallowed the worst of my anger with the last drops of my first Guinness. "Sarah wants to go off the pill and start a family." I smirked at the irony. "Like that's going to happen now! But what do I do?"

"Good question," Todd retorted. "Do you think you can ever forgive her?"

I waited for our drinks to be delivered so I could have another sip before I answered. "You know, before this moment, I never had to face that question as a real possibility. It was something that happened to other guys. Sara and I were above that." I took another drink and looked into the murky depths of my glass. "I remember a few years ago, Sara's roommate divorced her husband after only three years of marriage. She discovered that he had cheated on her. Sara and I talked a lot about it and agreed that Beth was doing the right thing. Ted was an immature asshole who didn't realize what a good thing he had. Sara, herself, told Beth that any cheater should be kicked to the curb." I took another drink and swirled it around my mouth. "It was easy for us to dump on Ted. Only three years before he had agreed to be faithful 'as long as you both shall live'. Then he broke that vow with some bimbo from work. Beth found out and dumped him. It was all so simple and clear cut."

"But that was Ted and this is Sara...."

"...and it hurts like hell. I love her with all my heart. At the same time, I hate her guts and want her to roast in hell."

"So what do you want to do?"

There was the question again. I finished off my drink and waved off Todd's offer of a third. "I guess I have to do some digging. If this was a one-night stand, maybe with some counseling and patience we can get past it. If this is part of a longer affair, we're finished."

Now it was Todd who took the long, deep, anguished sigh. "Well, old friend, I am afraid I can help you out. I checked the web site where the story was posted and there are two others there by SAM33. Both of them were written and posted before this one. All three are pretty much the same. You aren't mentioned by name. Sara is. This is thankfully the only one where I show up."

He handed me a computer screen image of Sara's web page at the story site. "It's a free site, so check it out and draw your own conclusions."

I accepted the paper and sniffed back a tear. A rock seemed lodged in my throat so all I could do was to offer Todd a weak smile.

"Talk with Sara, man. Don't give up without a fight."

"But will she be honest with me?"

"You won't know unless you try. Don't give up until there's no hope. You owe it to each other."

I knew deep down that Todd was right. What Sara and I had built should not be given up without a fight. In the end, we had one hell of a fight. Then I gave it up.

* * *

When I left Todd, I headed back to the office to think. The place was empty, but that was fine with me. I called home and left a message for Sara that I would be working late. Thank God for voice mail! God alone knew whom she was really with.

I wasted no time in loading the website on my computer so that I could check Sara's other stories. While they were printing, I thought about the first one.

The day portrayed in Sara's story was still crystal clear in my mind. It was a Friday and I had left the office early so that I could catch the evening flight to Heathrow. Saturday evening and all day Sunday I was to spend with Ewan MacAdams negotiating the heart of our agreement.

Sara needed to be at the museum to go over the set up for the gala and to check on the caterer. She was working with a new crew and she didn't yet trust them. She was expecting me to accompany her. We'd been planning on it for months. Now she needed to go alone.

That evening, Sara looked stunning. The dress was one she said she had picked out for a special night between the two of us--but now I wonder. Sara is not an over-the-top gorgeous woman. She tended to be a little heavy for her height. Her hair was short and a light shade of brown, but no one looked more gorgeous to me. I loved her heart and soul.

We'd argued about my trip. Sara seemed more hurt than angry. I convinced her that I did not want to fly to London; I even showed her the cancellation slip for a room and the Hyatt Regency near the museum that I had booked for the night. Without me along, Sara could use the museum's guest room. We hugged and kissed, and swore our love for each other.

Just as the two of us were about to head to our cars, Todd came to the door. He was carrying a fax that had just arrived. Under his arm he had a stack of folders that contained additional information that ITI wanted to discuss. As it turned out, this was information that sealed the deal with ITI. Just as Todd handed me the papers, Sara came downstairs, decked out to perfection in her stunning blue dress.

"Whoa! Peter! You gotta rethink this trip, buddy! If Anne looked like Sara, I'd never let her out of my sight!"

We joked a bit. Sara blushed. We laughed. And, we went out different ways. I remember waving to Anne who was sitting in the car waiting for Todd.

That same scene appeared in Sara's story. At the beginning of the third paragraph of Sara's story, Todd stopped at the house, but I didn't appear to be present. Sara was dressed the same. Todd dropped by to leave me some information. When he saw Sara, he said, "Whoa! Peter's got to be crazy! If Anne looked like you, I wouldn't let you leave the house tonight!"

This time it was Sara who waved at Anne as Todd returned to his car.

It was all there--but there was more. She met her unnamed paramour at the reception. It had been previously arranged. They spent little time together at the gala because Sara was busy with behind the scenes details. After the party was over, he took her to his hotel room and they fucked the night away. Though I avoided the details, I could see indications of things she and I never did. Oral, doggy style, cow girl, reverse cow girl. No anal, but that didn't surprise me. Then again, there were already enough surprises in the story to last a lifetime!

Sara didn't leave until late the next morning. The closest mention of me came when Sara told her lover, "I never get this kind of treatment at home!" That comment was like a stab to the heart. I never thought my love for Sara could erode so quickly.

The website had two other stories. They were pretty much the same. It sounded as though she was with the same lover, but with no names, it was hard to tell. It was harder to pin down the precise day for these two stories, but both were at a hotel in town. One was a mid-day liaison--something Sara and I never did. The other was another all-nighter. Evidently, Sara enjoyed taking full advantage of my trips to London.

At some point in the second story, her paramour made a comment referring to her normal sex life--a joking reference to how bad it normally was for her. Sara professed her love for me. She still fucked the evening away with her lover.

* * *

I sat for a long time with my legal pad in front of me as I jotted down thoughts and struggling to answer Todd's question. What do I want to do? I knew I had to talk with her, but hitting her with it broadside didn't sound like a good idea. "So Sara, I think you are cheating on me."

Yea right! Two possible outcomes to that and neither are good. One is that she is guilty. Sara could never keep a secret from me; I can always read it in her face. Even Christmas surprises are transparent in Sara's smiles.

The other possibility would be that she is innocent, but furious with my accusation. Just how long do I want to sleep on the couch? Even innocence would result in trauma and counseling. Not a pleasant prospect.

As I wrote and doodled, a plan began to emerge. I would attempt to recreate the discussion we'd had when Beth and Ted divorced. There was a married guy in another department that fashioned himself as quite the Lothario. He was very discreet when in public, but around the office, he was known to regularly hit on all of the secretaries around. Amy, my own Personal Assistant, had complained about a time when he came on to her.

I knew that I would be able to gather all the data I wanted from Sara if I phrased the conversation correctly. All I had to do was to remain cool and be observant. As a back up plan, I made arrangements to fly to London for a week anyway. Even though it wasn't necessary, I was willing to go the extra mile--if it meant getting out of the house for a week.

It was after eight o'clock when I turned the computer off, packed up and headed home. I knew I would be setting a new record for how late I arrived home from work, but I didn't care. At least I could face Sara calmly.

"Honey, you're home awfully late," Sara said cheerfully. She was curled up on the couch reading a novel. "I thought you were about done with that ITI thing."

"A problem came up late this afternoon," I replied, giving just enough truth to avoid lying. "I needed to think it through."

"Have you eaten? I can heat something up if you want, or..."

"Thanks, but no thanks," I interrupted. "I'll just make a sandwich."

Sara came and sat at the kitchen table while I worked. "By the way, I may have to fly to London after all."

"When?" she said with a frustrated sigh.

"I'll leave on either Saturday or Sunday--but it's not yet cast in stone. I'll be able to tell you more tomorrow."

I got a beer to go with my sandwich and sat down opposite my wife. "Do you remember Dean from accounting?" I asked, initiating the crucial conversation.

With a grunt of displeasure, Sara responded that she well remembered meeting him.

"Well, it seems that he is in real trouble at home. His wife caught him!"

"Good! I have never met anyone as slimy as that creep."

"From what I hear, his wife discovered that he had finally bedded one of the women from the office and she kicked him out."

"Serves him right!

So far, Sara's face declared her innocence. She was honestly disgusted with Dean. I'd need to press further.