Des Moines

I quickly looked in the bathroom but there wasn't much to see there. Before retreating out the door I decided to take her panties with me. If nothing else, I could get them tested for DNA, not that I would be surprised by what I'd learn. It might also throw Lyn for a loop, not being able to locate them. As Beth and I entered the elevator I began to lose control. Tears were rolling down my face. Beth, a good solid Iowa woman, placed her hand on my shoulder and said, "I'm very sorry Mr. Clinton."

We exited the elevator into the lobby, and I began to reach for my wallet. "Don't even think about it son," she said in a tone that left no room for debate. I smiled, thanked her, and said, "I know I don't need to say this, but if you have any interaction with them, please don't give them any hint I was here." The corners of her mouth turned up in a smirking sort of way. She, winked, and said, "Never seen you or heard of you in my entire life and I'm offended that you would suggest otherwise!"

Well, as you can imagine I had come to the end of my plan. What to do now? I've already admitted to my lack of legal knowledge. However, even my limited understanding of divorces in the USA warned me I may get fucked over if I went for divorce too quickly, the prenuptial agreement notwithstanding. That was the bad news. The good news was I wasn't expected home until late Friday afternoon. I had time to think and plan.

Since I was on the south side of town, I drove another thirty or so miles southeast to the small town of Winterset and forty minutes later found myself at Rudy's Restaurant on John Wayne Drive. Winterset is the Duke's birthplace and they even have a small museum in his honor. I know this because my dad, who could quote every John Wayne movie from heart, had brought me and my brother here when we were kids. As I sat in a booth toward the back, I noticed a quote from his last film on the wall. In The Shootist, Wayne played an aging gunfighter dying of cancer who determined to go out guns blazing with his boots on instead of letting the terrible disease eat away at him until dead.

"I won't be wronged, I won't be insulted, and I won't be laid a hand on. I don't do these things to other people, and I require the same from them."

I'm nowhere near the Duke fan my dad was. I'm more of a Clint Eastwood, The Outlaw Josie Wales kind of guy, but I found myself chuckling, "Fucking-A right pilgrim!" I said this out loud to nobody in particular, but the waitress approaching my table heard my best Wayne impersonation. She just rolled her eyes and replied in her best Duke, "So, you want some grub young fella?" I ordered coffee and a big breakfast. Doing something as simple as enjoying a meal helped me feel better.

As I sat and ate, I pulled up and read a handful or articles on spouses that cheat. According to the experts, this probably wasn't a one off. No way they would be that chummy if it was a drunken lust filled one-night stand. Statistics showed overwhelmingly women in the USA who cheat on their husbands rarely have a one and done sexual experience. More than likely, this had been going on for some time, but I had no proof. That had to change, so I began to make a list.

No way I'm staying married to a cheater. Even if this was relatively new, I could forgive and maybe even still have some love in my heart, but all trust was gone for good. I would hire somebody to help me get some evidence.

Even with the prenup, I needed to find rock solid legal advice from somebody who knew their way around the financial side of the equation.

I had to get tested for STD's.

Justin Banks, one way or another, was going to get his.

I had about thirty-six hours to get moving. I finished my breakfast and left the server a $50.00 tip for a $16.00 breakfast. At least one person in the greater Des Moines area was going to have a good day.

Before I left the diner, I texted Lyn "Sorry, found my pen at the bottom of my satchel!" A moment later she replied, "Lucky for you!"

I typed six words in response, "Fuck you, you cheating slut bitch!" I didn't really do that, but it was awfully tempting. I simply replied, "Yep."

Two hours later I found myself in the offices of Templeton, Sharp & Shaeffer. I'd met Templeton once at a fundraiser and knew his practice handled family law. He took my call and listened quietly to my story.

"I'm sorry to hear this Mr. Clinton."

"I appreciate that Mr. Templeton. Please, call me Tyler."

"Perfect Tyler, I'm Edward, Ed to my friends and clients so call me Ed."

"Thank you, sir."

"Tyler, I won't jerk you around here, from a legal perspective your situation is less than favorable. No kids helps, but no fault means you might have to do counseling or engage with your spouse in an effort by the court to determine if the marriage really is broken. If the prenup was well written you may avoid coming out on the short end of the stick financially, but that remains to be seen. I want to refer you to my partner Eli Sharp. He's the pro in our shop when it comes to divorce and will do the best job for you. Let me put you through to his assistant Diane and she'll get you set up." An hour later I was sitting in his office.

I learned that Eli Sharp would live up to his name. A small guy, only 5'6" and maybe weighed in at 130 Lbs. soaking wet. I gathered he was an avid swimmer, had been since he was a kid. Held a couple of high school records back in his home state of Indiana. He still swam hard for an hour straight six mornings per week. After spending ten minutes with the man anyone could tell he'd lived his life proving being small didn't mean you couldn't win the battle. He brought that attitude to his law practice.

He listened carefully to what I knew so far and asked a few clarifying questions, then offered some initial strategy.

"Are they staying at the Hampton tonight?"

"I don't know."

"No worries, I can find that out, excuse me." He lifted his desk handset and spoke into it, "Diane, get Molly on the phone and tell her I need to know if Lindsey Clinton is booked at the DSM Hampton Inn, room 319 through tomorrow morning. If she is, tell Moll, I need a full report by tomorrow noon and tell her not to miss anything! What? Yes, I know, that will piss her off, but that's part of the fun, isn't it?"

He returned the phone to its cradle. "Molly Baker is the best PI this side of Chicago because she was a PI in Chicago for eighteen years before she chucked it and moved to Des Moines. The shit she saw in the Windy City would curl your toes. Anyway, if they are there tonight, we'll know plenty of details by tomorrow."

He agreed I needed to get tested for STD's and was worried about how long it would take to get the results. He assumed my wife would want to be sexually active with me to cover her tracks. I assured him I knew a couple of doctors in my line of work and could probably get the tests expedited. The normal five to ten days could probably get knocked down to two or three. I called a pal, Dr. Stan Rosen, and asked him if I could stop by first thing in the morning.

Eli also set me up with a forensic accountant in their practice for the next morning. He handed me a printout of what he knew I'd need to bring, including our prenuptial agreement.

"Finally," he said, "If your wife changes her plans and comes home tonight, you can't be there or confront her. We'll address her as soon as we know the facts and the best way forward, but the earliest that will be is next week. If my guess is right, we'll probably need a couple of weeks to establish a pattern of infidelity. It may not help us in court, but it sure as hell won't hurt us. Most Des Moines magistrates still frown on cheating in a marriage, so you must play it cool. Be polite and kind. To guard your health, fake feeling ill if she wants to get physical anytime over the weekend. Otherwise, business as usual, got it?"

"So, what you're saying is ringing her neck and taking a baseball bat to little Justin is off limits?"

"Yeah, something like that. Seriously, can you do this? Anything stupid will sink us."

"Yessir, you have my word."

"Good enough." We shook hands and I left.

I'd like to say I'm good at compartmentalizing the pain in my life, but that would be a lie. I still had clothes from my trip, so I didn't need to go by the house. I went to a different gym, paid for a day membership, and worked out for about two hours until I could hardly stand. I then took a long steam and showered before checking into the downtown Hyatt where I promptly ordered room service. My order included a bottle of Maker's Mark.

I turned off my phone after my second glass and put it in the closet knowing once I was drunk, I would forget where it was. I didn't want to risk being drunk and calling my slut wife. Tears, anger, frustration, and more tears were my lot until I passed out. The next morning, I awoke around seven with the worst hangover I could remember since graduating from college.

Forcing myself back to the gym I took a long steam while sipping from my Yeti cup which was packed with ice and a bit more Makers. Whoever came up with the morning after solution, "Bite the dog that bit you" must have known something, because after showering I felt almost human again. I spent an hour at a local Starbucks with my laptop organizing my financial report for the accountant.

By eight-thirty I was in Rosen's office. I explained the situation to him, and he drew my blood himself. "I'll personally drop this at the lab and have them bring the results back to me. I'll have to put your name on it, but doctor -- patient privacy will keep it as quiet as I can until you need it in court."

"Not your first rodeo huh doc?"

"Hell, no pardner," he replied in his best Duke voice. I guess everyone around here loved John Wayne. "I may get results by the end of business tomorrow, but it might be as late as Monday afternoon. Can only push the lab folks so much."

"No worries, thanks Stan."

Back at T, S & S I sat down with Lois Montgomery. She picked everything apart, kicked all the tires and looked under the hood of my financial life for the better part of two hours. It was about as pleasant as a prostrate exam. When we were done, she sighed deeply and began to sum up.

"Well, Mr. Clinton, there is good news and bad. The prenup does cover 80% your assets in the case of divorce due to adultery. But no way I see you getting any better than a 50/50 spit on the house. You could also avoid alimony and obviously there will be no child support. But you may also have to split your retirement and savings. I'll work up a complete report and have it to Eli before the end of business today."

I thanked her and headed upstairs to meet again with Eli Sharp. He was seated and in conversation with a woman who looked to be in her mid-forties. Molly Elkington was pleasant looking with short brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a friendly smile. Her handshake was firm and her gaze penetrating. I felt I'd have to give an honest answer to any question she asked me; her look was that commanding. Molly's jacket hung on the back of her chair, and I also noticed a sidearm attached to her belt. "Note to self," I thought, "Never fuck with this woman!"

After a moment of pleasantries, (Iowa, remember, we're always friendly) she got down to brass tacks.

"No easy way to say this Mr. Clinton, your wife is having a sexual relationship with the med student Justin Banks. I was able to place AV devices in their room at the Hampton, thanks to a very nice woman named Beth." She paused and looked up from her notes. "By the way, Beth wanted me to mention she has a lovely niece in Cedar Bluffs if you're interested at some point in the future."

"I've turned some of the video into stills and enhanced the images to make your wife's identity unequivocally indisputable. They returned to the hotel around 1 PM yesterday afternoon and stayed there until six when they left for dinner. They ate at a hole-in-the-wall Chinese place in West Des Moines before returning to the Hampton around eight. According to my guy stationed in the lobby, they checked out around ten. Banks got into his car and she into hers. Mrs. Clinton headed home and is still there."

She slid a large file folder across the table to me. "There are pictures and a thumb drive with video. I'm not suggesting you look at it... ever, but if you do, give yourself some time and space to deal with what you will see and hear. I'm truly sorry Mr. Clinton. I hate cheaters for who they are and the damage they cause. I did a little digging on you as well, and it is clear to me you don't deserve how you're being betrayed by your wife."

She and Sharp exchanged a few other comments and ideas about continuing for the next couple of weeks to establish a pattern. She then rose, threw on her jacket, shook my hand, wished me the best and headed out the door.

Sharp went to his credenza and poured me a shot of Knob Creek Limited Edition to calm my nerves. I threw it back in one gulp and steadied myself for where our conversation was headed. We reviewed several aspects of the situation. I brought him up to speed on my blood work and we discussed the financial aspects of the coming divorce.

"What is your end game Tyler? What I mean, is, what is most important to you when the dust settles?"

I thought carefully for a moment. "I want out ASAP. I can be patient and not do anything too stupid, but the idea of being anywhere around her makes me want to vomit. I really want you to do everything in your power to see the terms of the pre-nuptial agreement enforced. I can live with a split of the house and other small assets, but no way I want her to come out of this in a strong financial position at my expense."

"Next, I'd like to salvage what is left of my dignity. I want it known she has been unfaithful, not me. No wishy-washy irreconcilable differences horse shit. I'm not interested in going after the hospital since I work there too and quite frankly, I see no culpability on the part of Unity Point Health Care. However, I want it publicly known she and I are quits because she fucked Justin Banks behind my back."

"Finally, I want to hurt Banks. I don't know if you could convince the hospital it would be in their best interest to drop him from their program, but my deep desire is that he ends up driving a UPS truck in Goodland, Kansas for the rest of his fucking days."

Sharp responded to each. "First, I think you're in pretty good shape with the prenup. I'm cautiously optimistic there."

"Secondly, we will make certain that word gets around on the reason for the split. However, that does not preclude the court ordering counseling to see if the marriage can be salvaged. Assuming your wife is not interested in divorce, I would be dumbfounded if her attorney doesn't go for that. They will probably be aggressive if for no other reason than to drag it out in the hopes they can soften you up and get you to change your mind."

"Finally, you need to temper your hopes on damaging Banks' career. You are correct, the hospital may cut their losses, especially if entering students sign any pledge pertaining to behavior while enrolled in the program. However, I wouldn't pin my hopes on that."

"Tyler, you're going to have to go home in the next day or so. You can perhaps create an excuse to stay away for most of the weekend, but soon you must head back and play happy husband as if your life depended on it. One whiff that you know, and we risk her going on the offensive before we are fully prepared. I'm taking you at your word that you won't approach Banks in any manner. If you think you'll crack, I'll call Molly and have her put one of her guys on you for a while."

I assured my attorney I'd behave accordingly even if I had to bite my lip until it bled. It was Friday early afternoon when I left Sharp's office. I sat in my car for thirty minutes trying to figure out how to go home and not let on. I saw no way of being successful so I did the next best thing I could determine. I jumped back on highway 35 south heading toward Kansas City. Lin was expecting me home around seven.

After driving about ninety minutes I pulled into the small town of Bethany, Missouri and found a local tire shop. A fortyish looking guy wearing a shirt with the name "Ed" stitched on it was behind the counter. He seemed content reading his Sports Illustrated, and not in a mood to be bothered with work late on a Friday afternoon. Like I gave a fuck at this point.

"Help ya?"

"Yeah, I need four new tires."

Ed sighed deeply in frustration. Apparently, the Chief's offensive line situation for next season had more appeal right now than making money. He got up and headed out to my car.

"These tires have at least another ten thousand miles left in them. You don't need new treads." He looked miffed. He had no idea what genuine "miffed" really looked like.

"Listen Ed, I'm a bit of a fanatic about my car and I don't care about the price tag. Can you put new tires on or not?"

He muttered to himself as he went back inside and revved up his 2005 desktop. "Not today, but I can have them here by ten tomorrow morning." He then pulled out a small calculator. "With shipping, installation and tax it will run you $1455.00."

"Fine," I said, "Do it."

He looked at me like I had three heads but typed in the order. "OK, you're set, see you in the morning." Not waiting for a reply, he went back to his SI article.

I drove back out to the highway and checked into a Super 8 Motel for the whopping sum of $78.00 per night.

I plopped on the less than comfortable bed and called Lyn.

"You almost home babe, I can't wait to see you!" She was quite cheerful after two days of fucking little Justin.

"I'm sorry Lyn" I lied, "But I just blew out two tires running over some shit that fell out of a semi on the highway. I'm stuck in some small Missouri town named Bethany. They can get me new tires but not until tomorrow. I won't be home until mid-afternoon in case you want to have Justin over tonight and fuck him in our marriage bed!" Didn't say the last line out loud but sure wanted to.

"Damn Ty, are you OK? Nothing hit the windshield, or anything did it?"

"No, I'm fine but I'm stuck with Taco Bell for dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning. I'm sorry for the delay Lyn."

"Me too, but the important thing is you're OK. I miss you like crazy and was hoping to jump your bones tonight. I guess I can wait until tomorrow. Please be safe the rest of the drive and hurry home to your loving wife ASAP buster!"

"I will Lyn. I'm sorry but I'm a bit worn out and still a little wound up from the blow out. I'm going to drink these two beers I picked up at the Jiffy Mart and hit the hay. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

"OK Ty, I love you!"

"Good night, Lyn." I knew at some point I'd have to lie some more and return the "I love you too" with sincerity in my voice, but it wasn't going to be tonight. I had no way of knowing if she caught my lack of response, but at that point I didn't give a rat's ass.

I moved over to the desk and opened the manila envelope Molly had given me. There in living color was my wife getting boned by the young Justin Banks in several positions. She was riding him in one. They were missionary in another and a third had a closer image of her face in what seemed to be the middle of an intense orgasm as he fucked her from behind while she was bent over the desk. I went into the bathroom and hurled.

After regaining my composure and brushing me teeth I returned to the scene of the crime and inserted the thumb-drive. After opening the program, I was met with my wife starring in a sleezy porn flick. She was naked, straddling Justin as he sat on the edge of the bed. They were doing a bit or role play to spice up their tryst.