When We Were Married Ch. 02D

It had been a fantasy, but looking back she realized she'd already made the decision to leave Bill. She just hadn't been able to work up the courage to tell him the truth. She told herself there would be a better time to tell him they had to talk. To explain that their marriage hadn't been working in such a long time. To tell him they'd both be happier free to explore their radically different visions of what a good life was. She wouldn't tell him she'd already fallen in lust with a young, hung hunk.

She saw them talking at some future time when she had gathered up her courage and saw the pain in his eyes. It would be like clubbing a baby seal. Because she knew he loved her, had never stopped. But was that enough? Did the fact that somebody loved you entitle them to keep you in chains, to keep you locked into a marriage where you were dying. But, at least, he wouldn't know about Doug. He could keep his pride.

And then that fucking, fucking, fucking slip of the tongue. Only Bill, with that goddamned prosecutor's steel trap mind, would fasten on those four words and shake and tear and rip at her until their marriage started to collapse. And he'd found her emails. God, she couldn't understand why she'd never even thought of that. She knew he monitored the kids' emails, but she knew that was a good thing. There were too many dangerous people out in the world for teens to be completely on their own.

But somehow she never thought he'd do it to her. Why? Why hadn't she ever worried about that? She hadn't had sex with another man, but she was cheating on him. Looking back now, she couldn't deny it. Making a life separate from his, not telling him about the outings with friends, the dancing, it was cheating even if there was no sex involved. She knew it and had to admit it because she realized what she'd feel if she discovered that he had been doing the same thing.

But somehow, she never worried about him checking up on her. Why? It wasn't that he was stupid. Other than maybe Lew Walters, he was as smart as any man she'd ever known. Sitting there and reading the emails and seeing for the first time the way her affair with Doug -- and that's what it had been -- had progressed, she couldn't get her head around the feeling of invincibility she had enjoyed.

And that's when the real tears started. She had felt invincible because she had never doubted Bill's love for her. As she'd told Doug, he would have walked through fire for her. He had been her champion since that day so long ago when he'd swooped in like some comic-book hero to save her sorry, wildchild ass from being gangbanged to a pulp by a bunch of horny UF frat boys.

And she could come and go as she wanted because she knew he'd never check up on her, never check her panties to see if another man's cum was in them, never look for hickeys or bruises on her breasts and ass. And marks were there sometimes. Before she got rid of them, guys sometimes got too excited, pinched a nipple or her butt hard enough to leave marks.

Was it possible to love somebody too much? To trust them too much? Had she developed a contempt for him because he was too good to her? As she had told Lew, she had never really liked nice guys before she met Bill. It was the mean ones, the hard ones who took what they wanted, that got her wet, that got between her legs, that took what she had to offer without concern for her feelings.

She grabbed her cell phone. As usual Bill didn't answer. She'd known he wouldn't answer even if he had his cell phone with him. She scrolled down and found another number and prayed she would be by her phone. It rang five times before, "Hello. Is that you Debbie?"

"Yes. I'm sorry to call you after work, Cheryl, but I had a question I hope you can answer."

"um -- okay."

"Relax. I'm not going to ask you to be disloyal to Bill. I just -- I want to talk to him. Face to face. He won't take my phone calls. And I know he's in the office when you lie to me and tell me he's out."

"Uh, Debbie, I'm sorry, but-"

"I know, you have to do what he tells you to do. But this is important. We've finalized the divorce papers and before -- it's all over, I'd like to talk to him one last time. Can you help me. I've never been to his new place."

"I can give you the address of his condo, but I don't think he'd be there. It's what -- 9 p.m.? I know he doesn't spend much time there. He would probably be at the gym or that boxing place."

"Gym? Boxing place?"

"I don't know much about it. Bill's been pretty tight lipped about his personal life since...you know. But we do get emergency calls or calls from deputies who want to talk to him so I've learned those are the two places you're most likely to find him at night. Unless he's at a bar or..."

"Bill is going to bars? I had to practically blackmail him to get him to come out to a nightclub with me when...."

"I guess things change."

Debbie sat with the phone to her ear, head whirling. Bill was spending time at gyms and boxing places and going to bars. What the hell. Men were supposed to have their mid-life crisis BEFORE they got divorced, not afterward.

"I can give you the addresses of the gym and the boxing place. The gym is in Avondale. I can get the name. And I know the boxing gym or training place is run by an old friend of his named Carlos...something. If you go down there, be careful. It's in a really bad part of the downtown"

She waited while Cheryl went to get the information. When she came back, Debbie wrote it down and thanked Bill's secretary. Then:

"I don't have any right to ask this, and I don't really know why I am except I'm curious. Has -. Is -- he....seeing anybody? Socially?"

"......Uh, Debbie, like I said, he's been secret, private about his personal life. And nobody, I mean nobody, is trying to pry into his personal life. You remember that old comic strip character, the guy who went around with a storm cloud hanging over his head all the time. That's kind of the way it has been with Bill, since...He's been....a real asshole, to be honest...for months now and it's gotten worse.

"The only thing I know for sure is that just a month or so ago, maybe longer, he went out with Jessica Stephens. She's an SA-"

"I know who she is."

She had meet Stephens at a few State Attorney events. She was kind of plain, but...Bill was still a married man and he was hitting on women at his office or...

"Did he-"

"The story I heard was that she asked him out."

"And she knew he was a married man? She asked Bill out?"

"Debbie, I know Bill isn't -- or wasn't -- the most physically appealing guy. No eye candy for sure. But he was a really nice guy."

Something about that sentence caught her attention for a moment and she almost had it when Cheryl added, "Of course, there's that story about Myra Martinez. I'm sure it's a joke, because you know she must have a ton of guys fighting for her, but the way I heard it, she asked Helen in personnel to let her know when your divorce became final."

That drove the other almost-question out of her mind.

"Myra? The freak secretary of Edwards? The one that can barely stand up straight? She is interested in Bill?"

"Yeah, that Myra."

Jesus Christ. The bitch had breasts from hell. And she was Edwards' mistress, his private hunting preserve. Everybody knew that. Bill had told her stories many times about guys thinking about hitting on her only to drop back when they learned that Myra took care of ALL of Edwards' personal needs. Shit. Debbie jumped as the pencil she held in her right hand snapped in two. The bitch was the only woman Debbie had ever met that made her feel unattractive, even boyish.

She shook her head and laughed softly. There was no way in hell a woman who looked like that, who had to have any army of studs after her, would even think about Bill's pasty, flabby body. Even if Bill was as big a man as Lew had said in that office, Myra wouldn't have any interest in Bill. She couldn't. It was ridiculous.

"Thanks, Cheryl. I won't tell Bill where I got this information. I'll tell him the kids told me. Bye."

As she drove toward Avondale with the address punched into her Garmin GPS, she couldn't help laughing. That bitch probably wouldn't look at any man with less than 10 inches. And poor Bill probably couldn't even lift one of those udders. The bitch was a cow. Sure, she was pretty, kind of, but what man would be interested in teats that ought to be hanging under a Jersey. It was ridiculous.

She went by his condo first. It didn't look too bad. Small. She rang the doorbell. Knocked. Rang the doorbell again. It was dark inside and there was no sign that he was around. His Escalade wasn't there. So she went for the general purpose gym first. Even hearing that Bill was hanging around a boxing gym, she couldn't' see it. She'd save that for last.

The Garmin got her to a big warehouse looking building on the outskirts of Avondale. It was an older, wooded, 100 percent residential area except for a few streets leading into the area that boasted specialty shops for clothing, food, high-end restaurants. It was one of the more well-to-do sections of old Jacksonville.

The warehouse-looking building was topped by a large sign reading, "Hurly's". There was a large, empty and well-lit parking lot. There were no cars there. As she drove into the parking lot she swung through and saw two vehicles parked toward the bar in what looked like a loading area. One was an Escalade. The other some kind of SUV.

Even though this was a nice neighborhood, she was a little nervous. She pulled up directly in front of the front plate glass windows, looked around to make sure no one was in the lot or near the building and then got out, holding her cell phone in her left hand. She walked over to the window and peered inside. The interior was well lit, even though it was deserted. It didn't seem as if anybody was inside.

Then she spotted movement toward the left side of the building. There was a row of weight training machines in front of what must have been the changing rooms and bathrooms, On the far left were weights and beyond them what looked like a fairly good sized swimming pool. With the experienced eye of someone who had spent a lot time in places like this, she decided it looked like a fairly well equipped workout center.

Before she spotted a figure on the next to last weight machine further away from her a flash of anger ran through her. She had killed herself trying to get Bill to even come to places like this, and the fucking bastard started coming after she threw him out. What was the logic in that?

The man was naked to the waist. Bald as a billiard ball. The lights gleamed on his skull and glistened on the sweat pouring off his back and arms. She watched him for a moment. The muscles in his back flexed as he pushed up on the arms of the machine and hoisted the weights on the machine up with the muscles of his arms, shoulders and back. God, he was soaked through. There was something very sexy about sweat on a male body.

He was no muscleman. Slender. The muscles weren't terribly defined, she decided as she studied him with experienced eyes. Probably some young guy in his 20s or 30s just getting out of shape and his girlfriend or wife had pushed him to get into better shape. Looking closer she could see a bulge running from his back and as he hoisted the weights she could see him from the side. He definitely would have to work that pot but working out and sweating like that would probably take care of it.

She rapped on the window. Bill didn't appear to be anywhere in sight, although he might be in the pool. Or he was in the back showering. When the guy on the machine didn't respond, she rapped harder. She hoped he didn't have an Ipod stuck in his ears, which case she'd never be able to get his attention. It didn't look like it, but it looked like he had a T-shirt wrapped around his neck and it might cover up an IPOD cord.

He stopped in mid-thrust and let the weights down as he lowered his hands to his side. He must have heard because he started looking around. When he didn't see anyone around him he finally turned and looked back toward the front of the gym. He must have seen her because he stared at the front for a moment.

He got off the machine, stood up and stretched. God, Debbie thought watching him, she had to get hold of Doug. When you start getting heated up by young, out of shape, sweaty guys, it's a sure sign you're not getting enough. After a moment he started ambling toward the front. As he approached he took the tee-shirt and wiped his face and head. His chest and arms were still wet. Debbie took a deep breath. Either she was going to get hold of Doug or she was going to give Big John, her name for her 12-inch vibrator, an epic workout tonight.

He was almost to the front door and she realized there was something....something oddly familiar about his walk. She wondered if he was one of the young guys who hung out near her whenever she went to work out, ogling her butt and breasts. Sometimes they were brave enough to flirt, which was flattering, but more often than not they just watched.

He punched in a code on the alarm behind the front desk and then walked around and unlocked the door. He pushed it open and a rush of warm, almost hot air rushed out into slightly less warm night air. He was close enough for her to smell his sweat. Jesus, even that was....stimulating. He didn't say anything, just looked at her.

For a moment she felt self-conscious. She was wearing jeans and a top she had thrown on. It wasn't particularly tight and didn't have a low cut, but she bulged out of it. She bulged out of anything she bought that wasn't strictly for school work or professional engagements. And she was alone with a guy she didn't know from Adam, a complete stranger. If he was working in the gym and he had the security codes, he was probably safe, but...

She realized he hadn't said a word. He was staring at her with an odd expression on his face. His face...

"Bill?"

She stepped backward involuntarily.

She wondered what the psychiatrists would say, what name they'd attach to this condition. Seeing your middle-aged husband's face on strangers' sweating bodies? It couldn't be Bill, but the resemblance -- the eyes, the nose, the mouth -- was uncanny. This guy had a thinner face, a younger looking face, but other than that....

"Hello, Debbie. What are you doing here?"

She was speechless. She stared at the sweaty, half naked stranger in front of her. Bill?

"Lew already called me and told me what happened. Thank you for agreeing to my request. I -- I'm sorry it had to go down this way."

The more she stared at him the more he became Bill. A younger Bill. A Bill who looked more like the man she had married. The shaved head was strange. It didn't look anything like the Bill she knew, but somehow, it looked good. Why hadn't he done that before?

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

He looked at her strangely, then followed her gaze and looked down at his chest.

He gave her a reassuring smile.

"You haven't gone crazy. I forgot we haven't laid eyes on each other for about three months. I -- my appetite never really has come back. And a friend of mine arranged for me to starting working out here."

He gestured at his sweaty chest.

"They let me come in after hours and use the facilities. But they turn the air off when they shut the building down and I don't feel right using up their power. Besides, they tell me that sweating in this heat helps take the pounds off. So I usually work out in as little as possible. There's nobody around to offend. Of course, I have a long way to go. But it's helped."

She stared at rivulets of sweat running down his chest. The pectoral muscles were better defined than she remembered and he'd obviously built up his shoulders. The streams ran down past his nipples, his belly button and down beyond that to... For just a second she was 22 and he was standing over her in his dorm room. His cock was glistening with her spit, hard and strong and delicious. She leaned forward and took it in, inch after inch and tried to look at his face and drink in the expression.

She snapped back to the present. He was still talking.

"........know where I was. I didn't know the kids knew where the gym was, although I've talked to BJ and Kelly. But, why'd you come out here anyway?"

"I -- I...what in the hell did you do to your head?"

He ran his hand over his shaved head. It came off slick with sweat. He was still panting slightly.

"Well...you ever do anything just for the hell of it? I saw Kelly this afternoon when I picked her up after school. A couple of her friends made a comment about my looking older than you. They were surprised how old I was. Just another old guy with thinning hair. After I dropped her off I drove by a Great Cuts and had them shave it all off. Even polished it a little bit. I never knew they actually had cremes and oils for making naked heads gleam.

"It still looks a little bit weird when I actually look at it. I don't look like me anymore. But maybe that's not a bad thing. Anyway, my shampooing costs are going to go way down."

She still didn't say anything.

"Are you alright, Debbie? What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, Bill. It's just that -- this is -- is a shock. Jesus Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack. It's like you're a....different person."

"And would that be a bad thing?"

She looked down at the sidewalk that run in front of the gym. It meant she wouldn't have to keep staring at that sweaty body.

"Bill, I...I keep saying I'm sorry. But I am. About -- the -- emails."

It was as if a curtain had descended over his eyes and the smile vanished.

"What are you sorry about, Debbie? That you wrote them? That you were going out behind my back and enjoying a life without me? That you shaved your damned pussy to get your boyfriend hot? That I found them? That I used them to spoil your alimony bid? Remember I'm an attorney. Be specific. Oh, and by the way, Lew told me that damned story about you guys not making it until after Friday night. I don't believe that and I never will."

She brought her eyes up until she was staring directly into his familiar, and yet strange eyes.

"I deserve that. I read the emails from beginning to end for the first time tonight. And if I were in your shoes I'd feel the same way. I probably won't ever be able to make you believe me, because I was cheating on you emotionally. I was making plans for how I'd leave you, how to break away, how to tell you I wanted a divorce. Maybe, probably, that was worse than actually having sex with Doug. So, if you don't want to believe me, that's okay. But I'm telling you the truth."

"Better late than never, right?"

"No. But, to answer your questions. I'm not sorry I wrote them. Those were my feelings. I'm sorry they hurt you but they were the truth. I'm sorry that I didn't the courage to ask for a divorce or a separation before I started going out on you and lying to you. And again, I can never prove to you that I wasn't having sex those times. But I wasn't.

"And about my shaved pussy. I was fantasizing about sex with Doug. I don't feel guilty for doing it. I feel so damned guilty for lying to you and trying to make you believe I did it for you. I never really felt like a lying tramp until that night.

"I hate that you found them, and more than that, I hate the way you found them. I don't know if Lew told you, but when he told me, I lost it. I got physically sick. I hated you for letting our marriage go, for not caring for me more than that damned job, but I know you've always loved me in your own way. I thought about what you must have felt, what must have gone through your mind when you read what I'd written about you. I never understood why you left your ring and that bloody note. Not until that moment when I was trying to puke my guts out."