Eenie, Meenie, Miney...

Having finished her packing, she slipped into the shower and scrubbed herself thoroughly because she wanted to be completely clean for Vince. As she washed her vagina, she was surprised to discover how sensitive her clitoris was. It took all her willpower not to continue rubbing her soapy fingers over the little nubbin hidden between her pussy lips. "Save it for later," she told herself firmly.

When she came out of the bathroom, she was not surprised to find that Tom had opened her suitcase and was rummaging through the contents. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, even though she knew the answer.

Tom was embarrassed at being caught. "I, uh, well, I just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten anything, that's all." The lie sounded lame even to him.

Mentally Cece congratulated herself on her foresight in hiding her surprise, but she didn't want to let her nosy husband get away with snooping. "Tom, honestly, sometimes I don't know what to make of you. I've been packing my own luggage since I was a teenager; I'm pretty sure I haven't forgotten how. Now if you'll quit pawing through my underwear and give me a little privacy, I'll get dressed."

In his dismay at being caught, Tom was glad to get away from the scene of the crime, and he scurried out the door. Cece had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at his embarrassment. "Serves him right," she thought to herself as she went back into the bathroom to retrieve her make-up case.

That afternoon when it was time for her to leave, Tom made one more halfhearted attempt to dissuade Cece. "I really wish you weren't going, Cece," he said as he walked with her to the car.

By now Cece had no patience left. "We've already been through all that," she told him sternly. "Now give me a kiss and let me get on my way." He did so reluctantly.

When she got behind the wheel, she rolled the window down and shook her finger at him like the schoolteacher she was. "Now you be good while I'm gone, Tom Maddux. No wild parties or wild women, you understand?"

He gave her a weak smile. "You too, sweetheart. Don't get into any trouble up there."

She laughed. "You don't need to worry: there'll be nobody there but a bunch of teachers like me." With that she pulled out of the driveway and headed off toward the interstate as Tom waved goodbye.

When his image had disappeared from the rearview mirror, Cece reached into her purse and pulled out her cellphone. She didn't like the idea of texting and driving, but Tom hadn't given her a moment's peace; even now she didn't dare pull over to send Vince a message. "It would be just like Tom to follow me to make sure I'm headed in the right direction."

With that she awkwardly tapped out a message to Vince with the thumb of her right hand, all the while trying to keep her eyes on the road ahead.

On my way. Cant w8 2 c u in the room. Im already wet!!

Hoping she hadn't made a botch of it, she pressed send and then switched off her phone. The last thing she wanted was for Tom to be calling her every fifteen minutes during the drive.

Tom

When his cellphone signaled to indicate an incoming text, Tom smiled, certain that it was a last-minute message from Cece. Sure enough, his phone showed the text was from her. But when he read what she'd sent, the message confused him. "What does that mean?" he wondered. "Why would she tell me she can't wait to see me when she just left?" The last sentence caused him to gasp. "Is she trying to sext with me?" he asked.

The phrasing was so odd that for a second he wondered if someone else had sent him a text intended for another person. But his phone made it clear that the message had come from Cece. Then another possibility struck him: could his wife have intended to send this message to someone else and selected his name by mistake? "But she doesn't know anyone at the convention except Vince Madison. Wait, 'Maddux' comes right before 'Madison,'" he realized with horror. What if Cece's message had been intended for Madison? "She's going up there to spend a whole week with him!" he thought fearfully, his mind already filling with images of Cece and Vince in carnal embrace.

"Stop, stop," he commanded himself, "you're jumping to conclusions. There's got to be a logical explanation; surely Cece wouldn't be so careless as to send a note like that to me by mistake. Maybe it's some kind of practical joke or some kind of weird mix-up by the cellphone company. I just need to call Cece and ask her."

Quickly he speed-dialed his wife's number only to get a not-in-service message. He left a voice-mail asking her to call him right away, but he decided not to add any details. "I don't want to accuse her of having an affair if this is all just some stupid mistake. She's already upset with me for snooping through her suitcase."

For the rest of the day, Tom kept trying periodically to reach his wife only to get the same result. By that evening it had become apparent to him that Cece didn't intend to turn her phone back on, which only added to his paranoia. Finally, he made a decision that wounded him like a hara-kiri blade: he began researching the names of detective agencies in the capital. "If I don't hear from her by tomorrow morning, I'll have no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I can't go on like this."

Vince

Vince had been waiting for what seemed like hours for Cece to arrive. He wasn't sure when she was due, and the fact that he hadn't heard from her made him just that much more impatient.

He found himself pacing back and forth around the hotel lobby, swiveling his head to check every time he heard the doors swing open. "It's stupid to get myself so worked up like this. I should go back to my room and watch some TV or something," he thought as he started another lap. "It's even more stupid to risk being seen and raising suspicions. If somebody found out about me having an affair with one of my teachers, I could kiss my career goodbye."

Yet he couldn't bring himself to leave; he desperately wanted to see Cece as soon as she arrived. The truth was that he was totally smitten by the younger woman. He found himself thinking about her throughout the school day, and every sight of her sent a thrill through him that he was powerless to resist. He knew it was sheer insanity for the two of them to have made love in his office that one time, but they had simply been unable to control themselves. Instead of sating his desire, however, that interlude had only increased his need to be with her.

Suddenly he saw her pushing through the hotel door, and he had to remind himself not to run as he went over to greet her. After making casual chitchat about her drive, he waited at a proper distance while she checked in, then politely offered to help her get her bags up to her room.

There were other people on the elevator so the two of them were forced to keep a discreet distance. One of the others also got off on Cece's floor, so they maintained their decorum until Vince had opened her room door and wheeled her bags in. But once the door swung shut behind them, he dropped everything in a heap, scooped her up in his arms and began to kiss her like it was his last day of life.

Cece was no less needy; she clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him in an effort to get as close to his body as possible. After a few minutes he drew back from her far enough to begin pulling at her clothes and tugging at her buttons. "Stop, stop!" she said frantically. "Whatever you do, don't tear anything."

Quickly she stepped back and began undressing herself. Seeing what she was doing, Vince began to do the same. As Cece slipped off her skirt, her cellphone fell out of her pocket and landed face up on the carpet. When she reached to pick it up, she remembered that she hadn't turned it back on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Vince reaching for her, and she realized that if she didn't check her messages now, it would likely be tomorrow before she had another chance.

"Vince, wait. Let me be sure that Tom hasn't called about an emergency. Just give me a minute . . ."

As her phone cycled on, Vince heaved a sigh and reluctantly took a step back. "It's only a minute," he thought impatiently.

When Cece saw the missed calls indicator, she quickly checked the list. Her face screwed into an expression of disgust, and she held the phone up for Vince to see. "Look at this," she fumed, "he's been trying to call me all afternoon, and he started within minutes of the time I left. That man is so insecure," she added, completely missing the irony of that comment.

Before Vince could reach for her, Cece suddenly sat down on the bed, a mournful look molding her pretty features. "He really does need me," she sighed. Then she looked over at Vince, who had sat down beside her. "Vince, I don't know if this is a good idea. Tom truly loves me, even if he is so needy. I really feel badly about cheating on him. And what about Rachel?"

Tom's face had fallen as well. "I know you're right. Rachel can be moody at times, but she always comes out of it. I don't want to hurt her or Tom either. It's just so hard, feeling the way I do about you."

"I know, and I feel the same way about you. But that doesn't give us the right to do something like this when we know how it would hurt them. I really think we need to stop now before we do any more harm than has been done already."

He looked at her sadly. "I guess that's the best thing, if you really think so, Cece."

She gave him a little smile. "Thanks for being so understanding, Vince. You really are a special guy."

She reached over and caressed his cheek. He reached up and took her hand, holding it and then kissing it, all the while staring into her eyes. "Oh, Cece," he sighed, and suddenly reached over to pull her to him, kissing her on the mouth with all the passion pent up in his body. Cece gasped and her body seemed to lose all strength as she slumped backward on the bed. In a second Vince was on her, and she was panting and clutching him to her with all her might. "Take me, take me," she gasped, and he quickly stripped her of her underwear.

He started to slide down her legs, intent on licking her where she was hottest, but she grabbed his arms and pulled him up. "No, I need you right now!" she cried out, and spread her legs as wide as possible to open herself to his assault. He needed no further invitation and rapidly, almost roughly, thrust himself all the way into her. Fleetingly he noted that there had been no friction - she was already fully lubricated.

Just at that moment her phone began to ring. "No," Cece cried out, "not now!" Vince quickly reached over and powered off her phone. He tossed it away and then returned to his lover.

Cece wrapped her arms and legs around him as tightly as she could. Vince in turn grabbed her hips and pulled them to him as he plunged down into her as hard and as fast as he could. Such pace and passion were unsustainable for long, and within minutes Cece's cries rose in pitch and volume as she soared to a climax that shook her to her core. Vince was only seconds behind her, grunting and gasping as he felt every spurt he pumped into her welcoming womb.

When the two of them recovered, it was obvious to both that there would be no further talk about ending their affair.

Tom

On Monday, Tom was deliberately late for work because he didn't want to make his phone call where someone else might hear. When he reached the detective agency, the operative listened to Tom's problem and took down the critical details.

"She's at the teachers' convention? That'll be no problem for us," the woman said. "But it may be a day or two before we can get you any results: we're already handling three other cases there."

The knowledge that he was not the only potential cuckold with a spouse at the convention was no comfort at all for Tom.

Once he had ended the call, he slumped back in his chair. The die was cast now. It would be a relief to finally find out what was really going on with Cece, but Tom knew that the truth was likely to send his life into a downward spiral of pain, shame and ridicule. Already he felt the anger rising in him.

Cece didn't return Tom's call on Monday or Tuesday, which strangely caused both relief and pain. Now that he had engaged a detective agency, he really didn't want to talk with her until he knew where things stood. But on the few occasions in the past that she'd traveled without him, it had been her habit to call him every night, so her silence now was just that much more galling. All he could do was keep telling himself not to think about it, which only made him that much more anxious. "If I don't hear something soon," he told himself during one of his increasingly frequent mental monologues, "I'm going to go out of my mind."

Late on Wednesday afternoon, Tom received a call on his cellphone from a number he didn't recognize. He quickly walked to a small conference room that wasn't being used and closed the door. As he had guessed, it was the woman from the detective agency. "I'm sorry it took us this long to get back to you," she said, "but, as I mentioned, we've really been slammed." Then her voice changed in tone. "I'm also very sorry to tell you that we've confirmed your suspicions concerning your wife. We were able to have a maid place a small camera in your wife's hotel room, and we have photographic evidence to corroborate your concerns. I have already sent a file to the email address you gave me with a copy of that evidence."

She paused, but Tom said nothing.

"Mr. Maddux, do you want us to continue the surveillance or perform any other service for you?" she asked quietly.

"No, thank you," he said. "That's all I need. Just send me your bill."

The woman cleared her throat and then asked, "Mr. Maddux, what are your plans now?"

"I don't know."

"Mr. Maddux, it's been our experience that the last thing anyone in your circumstances should do is to act in haste. Please don't do anything that you might later regret. I should also advise you that many couples we've dealt with have been able to overcome the experience and go on to rebuild their marriages."

Tom's voice was strained. "Thank you for your advice and for your service." He ended the connection.

Once he had done so, he felt his emotions building up like a wave rushing to shore, and suddenly he began to cry. Cursing himself for his weakness, he put his head down on his arms, his tears soaking his shirt sleeve.

After a few minutes he became aware of noises coming from outside, and the thought of being discovered was enough to halt his weeping. He did his best to wipe his eyes, then stood up and went to the door to peep out. Once he was sure no one was around, he hurried to the men's room and washed his face with cold water. When he had done all he could, he hastened toward his office, only to encounter an acquaintance in the hallway.

"Are you okay, Tom?" the fellow asked. "You don't look so good."

"I think I may be coming down with something," Tom lied. "I'm going to head home before I give it to everybody else."

The man quickly took a step back, and Tom seized the opportunity to hurry on to his cubicle. Quickly he shut down his computer, put away his papers and then headed to his car.

Once at home, Tom made a beeline for their home computer and checked his email with trembling fingers. The message from the detective agency was waiting for him, and he opened the attached file with his heart in his throat. It took only a couple of images to confirm Tom's worst fears, and suddenly his stomach revolted. Dashing for the bathroom he barely made it before he upchucked everything he'd had for lunch into the bowl. When he finally finished, Tom lay down on the floor, too weak to move.

After a long while he got up and went back to the den, where he lay down on the sofa and covered his eyes. The darkness only encouraged him to recall the images he'd seen on screen: the images of his marriage ending in that hotel room.

Finally he forced himself to sit up to try to decide what to do next. "It's probably a good thing that Cece isn't here right now," he thought, "because if she were I don't know what I might do to her and my so-called friend Vince Madison." But that reminded him that he wasn't the only injured party. "Poor Rachel," he thought, "she always seemed so crazy about Vince. It will probably kill her when she finds out."

The more he thought about it, however, the more he rationalized that he had an obligation to inform Rachel. "I'll bet Vince has been deceiving her for a long time. Anyway, I know I'd want her to tell me if she'd been the one who found out," he told himself. But the truth was that he was secretly elated at the thought of what Rachel might do to Vince once she learned the truth. "He deserves everything he gets, and more," he thought vindictively.

Quickly Tom printed off a set of the photographs. When he was done, he found the phone number for the Madisons and called. He expected that Rachel would still be at work, so he was taken aback when she actually answered. Nevertheless, he told her that he needed to come over to talk with her about something important. She hesitated but finally told him to come.

When he arrived, Rachel greeted him at the door and invited him in. "You've certainly got my curiosity up, Tom. What in the world is so important that you have to tell me in person?" she asked.

Now that he was here with Rachel, Tom began to have doubts about what he was doing. He and Cece had socialized with the Madisons on several occasions, sharing dinners at each other's home. But he didn't really know either of them that well, and he didn't have a clue how Rachel would react. Now that he was face to face with her, though, he couldn't think of any way to avoid the subject that had brought him, so he plunged ahead.

"Rachel, I don't know any way to make this easier, so I'm just going to say it straight out: my wife and your husband are having an affair."

Rachel's pupils widened slightly as she stared at Tom, but otherwise she didn't react in any way.

Thinking that she didn't believe him, Tom pulled the photos out of the envelope and held them up so she could see them. "I hired a detective agency to follow them at the convention . . ." he began, but suddenly Rachel began screaming.

"No! No! This can't be happening! Oh my God, my life is over!" With that she slipped to the floor and broke into hysterical sobbing.

Tom was appalled; he'd never expected such a reaction. "Rachel, Rachel," he said urgently, kneeling at her side, "it's okay, we'll figure this out."

"There's nothing to figure out," she wailed. "I'm a dead woman walking!"

"No, no, don't say that," Tom urged, "we'll get help. You'll see."

"You don't understand," she said between sobs. "When I was growing up my father cheated on my mother. He ran away with another woman. Momma loved him so much that it tore her apart. She went into his room, found his pistol and blew her brains out!"

"Oh, God, I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Rachel," Tom said, feeling sick at having caused Rachel to relive that terrible time.

"You don't get it, Tom, Momma was the lucky one. When Papa left it drove my sister Megan crazy. She ran away from home and began living on the street, turning tricks to stay alive. She's been in and out of rehab and mental institutions ever since." Rachel's voice had steadied for a minute, but now it began to rise again. "And now the same thing is going to happen to me - I'll wind up just like Megan!"

"Oh my God, that's horrible, Rachel. But just because your sister had it so rough doesn't mean the same thing will happen to you. I'll help you, I'll . . ."

"You?" Rachel screamed. "You're responsible for all this!"