Silent Nights

Although Sally was pleasant to me, she was not smiling; she was obviously a woman on a mission. We got in my car, I told her everything that I knew from the factual standpoint, and showed her the key to the unit. We drove to a local pancake house and ate breakfast, although neither of us was particularly hungry.

I specifically did not ask her what she wanted to do. "I'm not in any position to tell you how to react, how to follow up, anything," I said. "I just hope that I don't have to bail you out of jail."

"Me too," she replied with a strange expression which gave me no indication whether or not she was kidding.

At some point during our breakfast she said "go ahead and ask; I know that you're dying to."

I immediately turned red. "Oh, was it really that obvious; I'm really sorry."

Sally laughed. "A lot of women have to worry about guys only looking at their boobs and not looking in their eyes. With me I have to worry about guys looking at my arms and legs and wondering 'how did they get that way?'"

I got a big smile on my face. "Since I've been caught red-handed I might as well ask; by the way it is not just the muscle in your arms and legs that is intriguing, you are a truly attractive woman. No bullshit."

Sally blushed. "I'm independently wealthy so I don't rely in any way on any money that Jack makes. Since I don't have to work, and don't like to work, I do a number of volunteer things. One of them is coaching a college crew team – I'm a hands-on coach – and another is conducting physical fitness classes for high school students from poor areas in a gym and training facility that I own. It helps me to stay in tip top physical shape and I am vain enough to actually enjoy the "Wow" factor that my appearance typically gets," she replied, obviously having told the story many times but actually reveling in its telling.

That out of the way, I reverted to my natural chatty self as we sat outside Jack's unit starting about 11:15 AM. Although she was not the best conversationalist in the world, very understandable considering what was on her mind, she did seem interested in my musings, and very friendly. We actually did get along great, famously in fact – maybe it was the common goals thing.

One question that I asked her really did perk her up. "Say, Sally, you might consider this a really bizarre question, but is Jack a chatty guy?"

Sally laughed for one of the few times during our conversation. "He's a fucking motor mouth. Even our outgoing teenage daughter sometimes moans 'Dad, can we just have some quiet time?' If he's awake, he's talking."

"That explains a lot," I replied. "Tanya is the same way."

The lovebirds, or fuck buddies, I didn't know which, arrived within two minutes of each other just before noon. Tanya got there first and used her key to get in. Jack also walked straight from his car to the door and let himself in. Sally and I waited an agonizing fifteen minutes, then got out of my car and started walking toward the door. I had already given her the phone numbers of three local Cab Companies in case she needed them. My last words to her were "Remember, you need to let me take several photographs before you say or do anything!"

"I remember!" was her terse reply. The veins on her neck were sticking out and her muscular arms seemed to be flexing.

I quietly let us into the unit. The sounds of fucking in the main bedroom were unmistakable. Clothes were strewn about the hallway. Devil that I am, I picked up all of Tanya's clothes and put them in the knapsack on my back, which I was carrying just for that purpose.

Sally and I were as quiet as little field mice as we tiptoed back to the bedroom. For some reason I was pleased to see that Tanya was on her back with her heels on Jack's shoulders. I might've lost it if he were giving her a JJ.

Since Tanya had her eyes closed and since Jack was staring at Tanya's flopping tits there was no realization on their part until I had snapped at least six candid photos. I continued to snap as Jack turned to look at us, said "O Fuck," and pulled out of Tanya's pussy clearly before he had a chance to ejaculate into her. Another small, but important, thing that kept me from "losing it" was that Jack did have a condom on his prick.

When she looked over at Sally and me Tanya screamed. I continued to take photos as Jack stupidly turned to the camera, exposing his dick, which was now starting to wilt inside the condom, while Tanya scurried back toward the headboard and tried to cover up with a sheet, and then a pillow. I only stopped snapping photos when I felt Sally leave my side to go toward the mortified duo. I did get one more photo when Sally landed a blow to Jack's balls and then took the last photo as Sally hit Tanya in the face with a closed fist. Then I simply turned, walked out the door, got into my car, and drove to pick up the kids from daycare.

Just before I went in to get the kids at their daycare facility I removed Tanya's clothes from my knapsack and cut or tore them to shreds. I never wanted them used again!

The kids were quite surprised, though happy, to see me, since this was earlier than their Mom picked them up. We went to a fast food restaurant to get them lunch, something that we almost never do because we don't want them eating crap, but it seemed appropriate considering the day's earlier activities.

After lunch, I took the kids to my attorney's office. Maybe that wasn't the proper thing to do, but I was not about to wait for Tanya to get home, or to leave them with her considering the state that she would likely be in. Of course the kids were too young to understand what was going on and amused themselves with equipment and snacks in my attorney's conference room.

My attorney promised to the divorce have papers, charging adultery, by the next day. I was asking for cohabitation of the house, a 50-50 split of our assets, a 50-50 responsibility to keep up the payments to the house and support the children, and joint custody. My attorney thought that I was nuts, but I had carefully thought out what was going to do.

While shaking her head my attorney said "I've never heard of anyone asking for cohabitation of the house while they were proceeding with a divorce, especially when they list adultery as the grounds; and asking for cohabitation even after the divorce is over is beyond bizarre!"

With a wistful smile on my face I said "I have a very unusual outlook on life and I have come to my decision to ask for cohabitation after very careful self-analysis. I'm not entirely positive that Tanya will go along with it, but she may; and in any event it's what I want. I would be shortchanging myself if I didn't at least try for it."

When I got home with the kids about 4 PM Tanya was there. She did not look good. She had a black eye and at least two visible bruises. She obviously had changed into some of her own clothes; I supposed that she had worn some of her paramour's clothes in the car on her way home. It was also obvious that she had been crying since her mascara was streaked over her face and she was visibly shaking.

"I'm so sorry, Jim," she started to say. I raised my hand like a traffic cop stopping traffic. I threw the knapsack with the shredded clothes in it to her feet, and handed her a sheet of paper that I had prepared the day before.

The paper read as follows:

"Unless and until you sign the divorce settlement I will be proposing I will not, repeat not, talk to you except as necessary to care for our children. I don't want to hear any of your bullshit explanations, how sorry you are, how it didn't mean anything, or anything else. In the divorce papers, which will be served on you tomorrow, I am asking for cohabitation, with you staying in the guest room and me in the master bedroom, joint custody, a 50-50 split of our assets, and 50-50 split of the financial responsibilities for caring for the children and the house. If you sign the papers on the terms that I propose I will remove adultery as the cause for the dissolution of our marriage, and will start talking to you again. Otherwise, I have said the last words to you that I ever will say that do not have to do with the care of the children.

Since you will likely need a full time job to meet your obligations under the divorce settlement you need to start looking right away; unless we can make some arrangement to reduce your share of the financial responsibilities if you stay with the kids during normal working hours.

One more thing; our cohabitation agreement will specifically provide that neither of us can bring a date into the house at any time. Any fucking will have to be done off premises; you should already be an expert at that!

If there is any talking to be done about the divorce your attorney should talk to mine.

Your soon to be ex-husband, Jim."

Tanya didn't have the opportunity to read the paper right then because the kids were demanding her attention. As I walked upstairs I heard Ben ask "Mommy, why do you look like a raccoon?" an obvious reference to her streaked mascara and black eye. As Tanya was obviously trying her best to be cheerful when interacting with the children, I went into her closet and removed all of her clothes and threw them on the bed in the guest room. I removed all of her drawers from the dresser and night tables and stacked them in the guest room. By then it was about 5:30.

"Say, kids," I chirped when I got downstairs. "Let's go out in the back yard on the swing-set for a while; Mommy has an important letter to read. Then we'll see whether we eat here or go out for dinner, depending upon how Mommy feels."

Tanya had a look of fear on her face as she gazed at the paper on the kitchen table. I took the gleeful kids outside. When we returned a half hour later Tanya was sobbing on the living room couch. She had washed the mascara off her face and put some makeup on her black eye, but that was starting to run because of her tears. She tried her best to recover when the kids ran up to her again, especially since they were obviously distressed by her demeanor.

"So what are we going to do Mommy," I asked, trying not to sound sarcastic, "are we going to eat here or go out for dinner?"

"Out to dinner," the kids chimed in unison.

After a short pause and with a forced smile Tanya said "I think that we should go out for dinner."

"OK kids, let's wash hands and get on our way," I said, taking them into the powder room on the first floor to wash their hands.

During the entire meal I tried to act as normally as possible toward the kids. Tanya tried to engage me in conversation, but unless it had something directly to do with the kids' care or schedule I simply ignored her. She stopped trying after about the tenth time I shut her out.

When we got home the kids and I played a few games while Tanya went upstairs. I could clearly hear her sobs as she apparently noticed all of her stuff in the guest room. When it was time for the kids to get ready for bed she had dried her tears and told them "Daddy will put you to bed tonight; Mommy has to clean up her new room."

After I had read the kids a story and put them to bed I went to the family room and turned on the TV. After I was there about twenty minutes Tanya sheepishly walked in. "Jim, I know that you're hurt and angry, but we really need to talk; giving me the silent treatment isn't going to resolve anything."

At least that's what I think she said, but by the time she said "silent" I had put on my recently purchased headset that wirelessly was connected to the TV but that excluded all extraneous sounds.

The next morning at work I got a call from my attorney. "The divorce papers were just served on your wife at 11:10 this morning," she succinctly informed me.

"Thanks, let me know if you hear anything from her or her attorney," I replied.

Tanya called about noon. "Hello," I answered. "Jim, this is Tanya," she said. "Is this about the kids?" I asked. When she hesitantly replied, "No, but..." I hung up. She called a couple of more times but when I saw on the Caller ID that it was her number I didn't answer.

That afternoon I called Sally Whitney on her cellphone – she had given me that number after our first conversation.

"Hi, Sally, this is Jim Gage," I cautiously opened the conversation.

"Hi, Jim; I bet I know what you're calling about," she said with a chortle.

"Yeah, I wonder if I should invest in pork bellies or orange juice futures," I laughed.

"Can't help you there, but I can give you a report of what happened after you left. Oh, by the way – sorry about the damage that I did to your wife's beautiful face, but I really lost it," she replied.

"Well, all that I care about is that you didn't kill her, or end up in jail yourself," I laughed again. "Since I didn't get a call to come bail you out I guess that you didn't get arrested."

"No, no arrest, but probably close. After you left that I grabbed your wife by the hair and threw her across the room, which had to leave some marks."

"It did," I responded.

"Well the black eye was from my punch, though, which I guess you saw."

"That I did," I snickered, "which made me promise myself never to get you pissed at me. So what else happened?"

"Both of the chagrined fuckers were talking a mile-a-minute at the same time. I really didn't hear much of what they were saying I was so angry, stuff like 'It didn't mean anything,' 'I'm so sorry,' and the other typical bullshit you'd expect when cheaters get caught. I kicked Jack in the balls and as he was writhing around on the floor, groaning, I told him 'Do not come home; the locks will be changed; stay here so that my attorney knows where to serve the divorce papers.' Then I fished the car keys out of his pants pocket, drove his car to the airport, and flew my plane home."

"A very surgical op, I must say," I snickered.

"Yeah, we didn't waste much time or effort, did we," she virtually giggled. "I do need the photos you took, however, for my divorce."

"I'll send you them by email as soon as we hang up," I replied.

We chatted some more, including telling each other the details of what we were asking for in the divorce. As was my attorney, Sally was shocked by my request for co-habitation. "What the hell are you thinking, Jim?" she asked. "How can you stay in the same house with her?"

"There are two very important reasons why that is my preferred approach. The first is because I want our kids – much younger than your daughter, and both of whom have a good relationship with both Tanya and me – to have both parents available to them. The second reason is because Tanya is the best piece of ass I've ever had, and in the long run I want to continue to have sex with her."

"You're a weird dude," Sally laughed. "I'll be in touch after my divorce is final. Will you do the same?"

"You betcha," I snickered.

When I got home that night Tanya was still under the delusion that I would talk with her, and that by talking we would work things out without a divorce. By the end of the evening she was again so frustrated that she was in tears. I didn't say one word to her that didn't have to do with the kids.

And so it continued. It was hard on me to just watch TV or a movie, or to tinker in the basement or garage, or to go out to some event by myself, every evening. It was harder on Tanya. She dealt with it by calling friends at night while I ignored her, and went out by herself sometimes if I was in. I would ask her if she would be in when I wanted to go out, and she would do the same when she wanted to go out, so that someone was always with the kids. But I said nothing more to her.

You wouldn't think that one adult giving the other the "silent treatment" would be devastating, would you? In fact given Tanya's overwhelming need for gab for her it was so terrible that she had to see a shrink. She told me that when she asked if I could come home early for the kids. I was normally able to, but asked her nothing about her sessions, and put on my headphones, which I wore draped around my neck when at home so that I could have ready access to them, if she started to tell me something about her visits.

Unsolicited, her shrink, Dr. Stacy Keach, called me to give me a report. "Her mental health is poor, and it is deteriorating. Are you trying to drive her crazy?" was the essence of her shrink's report, and question, to me.

"Has she shown you the paper I want her to sign?" I calmly asked. "And if so, what's the problem with it?"

"She doesn't want a divorce...she started to say when I interrupted her with "And I didn't want her to fuck Jack Whitney either, Dr. Keach, so neither of us is getting what we want."

I must have talked to Dr. Keach for an hour, telling her all of the things that I refrained from telling Tanya because of my silent treatment punishment. Some of my comments she was very interested in, such as that I had ever intent of resuming sexual relations with Tanya as long as I got an "all clear" STD test report, and she signed the divorce settlement. We spent ten minutes on that subject alone. "Will you talk with her after sex, like you used to?" Stacy asked me.

"Yes; I have every expectation that our sex life will be as good as before," I nonchalantly replied.

I think that Dr. Keach was surprised that I was so open and accommodating, except about one subject.

"Don't you need to sit down with her and have a heart-to-heart about how the sex with Jack Whitney started and how it got to where it was?" Stacy asked me.

"In fact, Dr. Keach," I replied in the sternest voice that I could muster, "that is one subject that I will NEVER – can I repeat that, NEVER – talk with her about. I simply don't give a shit."

Her parting question was "After the divorce would you ever consider marrying her again?"

I think that my response surprised her. "It is possible – a remote possibility, but possible." That was a lie, but I really wanted Tanya to sign the divorce settlement so that I could get back to fucking her.

My conversation with Dr. Keach was on a Tuesday afternoon. When I got home from work on Friday, about 6:00 p.m., the kids didn't greet me like they normally did. Tanya, did, in a short sundress with her makeup done up and a bow in her hair, and with two documents in her hand.

"Where are the kids?" I asked, since it was a question related to child care.

"With my sister – for the entire weekend if what you told Dr. Keach is true," was her hesitant reply as she warily handed me the two documents.

The first document was a "Completely Clean" STD report from a reputable local lab. The second was the signed, and even notarized, "Divorce Understanding" document that I had given her what was now seven weeks ago.

While it had been an excruciatingly long seven weeks for her, it was also highly unpleasant for me – especially since her superb body was never far away when I was home, and she hadn't been shy about exposing various – or all – parts of it during the interim.

I smiled, opened up my briefcase, put the documents in it, and locked it. Then I kissed her, lifted her up, carried her to the master bedroom, and we proceeded to fuck each other's brains out.

She went through three orgasms before I even stuck my cock in her pussy, as I excitedly prepared her for a JJ. My cock was so hard that it really hurt. By the time that I had finished ejaculating in her, while simultaneously pulling out the butt plug, she was comatose and I was close to it. When I regained full cognizance I gently shook her out of her stupor and started talking to her about how great the sex was; and anything else that she wanted to talk about (except, of course, Jack Whitney – she never even tried to bring that subject up).

The rest of the weekend, until the kids came back about 7 p.m. Sunday, we only really did four things; eat (a little), sleep (very little) talk (a lot), shower (when necessary, always together), and have mind-blowing sex (more than ½ the total time). Well, I guess that's five things, but my mind was so muddled by that stage that I couldn't even count straight.