"The Worm Doth Turn"

The only person at the party who compared to him was his wife, and she was stunning! She was almost exactly my height, she had beautiful light brown hair, butter melting green eyes, the perfect aquiline face, and a body other women would kill for.

The only difference I could see between Mr. and Mrs. Beautiful was in their demeanor. While our hero exuded confidence and that debonair suaviter that only comes with uninterrupted success, she evinced an uncertainty and uneasy tension one could only associate with internal doubts and apprehension. I don't know if anybody else saw these things, but I sure did, and I knew why too!

There we all were. Everybody was supposed to be having a good time, and from the moment I got there I knew. I knew something was wrong; something was decidedly and awfully wrong. Mr. Wonderful had that uniquely special self-congratulatory expression every time he looked in my wife's direction. The only way I could describe it would be to describe the way one looks when they go to a restaurant, open the menu, and see the dish they've already sampled and know it's good.

I glanced at my wife and saw that selfsame look. Then I looked at Allyson, Wendell's wife; she saw it too, and I knew she saw what I suspected. But by the look of defeat she evinced I was equally certain she'd been through this before. My chief concern from then on was whether what I was seeing was the acknowledgement of a fait-acompli or something anticipated but not yet accomplished.

Now it's a modern world we live in. Marital infidelity is a too true and too cruel fact of life. Everyone knows someone who's had to deal with it, and the descriptions they give are all starkly and strikingly the same. The comparisons all always hearken back to death; the death of a marriage, the death of self-esteem, the death of innocence, the death of trust, the death of a lifetime of dreams.

I saw the new 'superman. I saw my wife, and I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere and just pull the dirt in on me. One remembrance kept surging in on me. I know it was stupid; I kept thinking about an old book I'd read about the Black Sox Scandal of 1919. There was this kid looking at Shoeless Joe Jackson with tear filled eyes mouthing, "Say it ain't so Joe. Say it ain't so." Oh Myra I thought, 'say it ain't so'.

I had to get away. I walked over to the ice chest, pulled out a soda, and strolled off in the direction of the picnic tables. No foods had been brought out yet, but I wanted to be by myself. As I reached the tables I found I was about to have company. Mrs. Standish was soon standing beside me.

I turned, smiled, and said, "HI I'm Steve, Myra Cornish's husband. You're Wendell Standish's wife aren't you?"

She smiled and took my hand, "Yes, Allyson. I saw you when you came around. You're both new to the community aren't you?"

I held her gaze in the most amicable way possible, and replied, "Yes, only been here a couple months," I liked her right away. She wasn't just beautiful, I could tell she was really a lovely and agreeable person.

She asked, "Have any children?"

"Two boys," I said, "they just started at Broad Mill elementary."

She touched my hand with hers again, "Wendell and I have two also, a boy and a girl. They're at Broad Mill also."

I said "I heard it was a good school."

She said, "Pretty good; they've got some problems, some new ideas about reading. I haven't gotten into it with them yet."

God, she was right in my wheel house, I told her, "I teach. I work over at Hamilton Elementary in the next county. We're grappling with the same thing."

She squeezed my hand. Her fingers felt good, "You teach! I used to. What's your specialty?"

We were kindred spirits. I told her what I did. She told me she used to teach high school science until the kids were born. Since then her husband wanted her to stay home; she'd reluctantly agreed. I hate to admit it, but excepting for a few brief forays into the rest of crowd just to be polite; Allyson and I pretty much kept to ourselves. I think Myra noticed. I couldn't say. I was sure Wendell didn't. I know I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

I did keep a discreet lookout for my wife. I noticed two things all afternoon. First, though there was 'eye contact' neither Wendell nor my wife went near or spoke to each other, and second I realized Myra was surreptitiously watching me like a hawk. I know my wife; I didn't think she was watching me because she was jealous I think she was more concerned that I noticed she wasn't associating with certain other people. But then who really knows? Myra was a woman, and women...well.

Near the end of the afternoon, after the hamburgers, hot dogs, spare ribs, and ancillary salads had been ingested, and everybody got dessert the party started to break up. The next to the last thing I did was to avail myself of Allyson's cell phone number and to give her mine. We agreed to see each other later in the summer; time permitting.

~~v~~

The trip home started off quietly, but that didn't last. Myra was seated in the passenger seat, she softly smiled one of those twisted little smiles that signaled trouble, "Did you meet everybody I worked with. I mean after you stopped hovering around Mrs. Standish?"

I smugly responded, "Yeah they're a nice bunch. I liked them all."

She wanted to get into something, "Really. I'm a little surprised. You never left Allyson's side all afternoon." She'd placed a little snide intonation in Allyson's name. Maybe Myra was a little jealous? I doubted it, but it was fun to think so.

I kept my eyes on the road, "Did you know she used to teach science. They have two kids, a boy and girl who go to the same school as Mike and Jeremy."

Myra smirked, "My; I guess you two will have a lot to talk about while you're off this summer."

This had been another thing. My working for a carpenter in the summers had brought in decent money; not as much as if I were a twelve month employee for the schools, but it was a respectable amount. This summer I suspected she thought something different was going to happen. Gee, it wasn't like what I did was easy or just part time. Some days I'd leave at sunup and not get back till after dark. It was hard and tiring work. I enjoyed it too. There's a difference between perspiration and sweat; sweat means outdoor manly stuff, perspiration is indoors and greasy.

I had to zap her a little anyway, "She and I talked about getting together...you know talking about the kids and school...and stuff."

She smirked, it was a real smirk this time too, "I bet you will."

I changed the subject, "I like the people you work with."

She shifted too, "They're a great group."

I asked, "Which lawyer gives you the most work?"

She got guarded, "Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, just asking."

"Mr. Standish is the hardest worker. I guess I get most of my work through him."

I pushed, "When you travel does he go with you?"

"Sometimes," she said, "usually I only travel when someone wants to update a will or when there's a settlement at a bank and not in the office. We go together for things like that. I'm a notary, that's part of the reason."

"Who do you hang around with on your 'Good Friday's'?"

She wasn't really paying attention, "Oh the lawyers mostly," she woke up and turned, "why do you ask."

I lied, "Some of the girls were talking."

She was full on, "What did they say?"

I changed the subject, "Oh look," I pointed out the side window, "is that a coyote?" There wasn't anything there. I just wanted to make her think.

She turned, looked, and turned back, "I didn't see anything. Why'd you say that? What did the girls say? Which girl?"

I had to say something, "I don't remember. I don't know, Marsha maybe."

Myra looked at me, she actually looked at me, "It's a small office you know, and Marsha's a busy body."

I smiled, "Don't worry about it. It's probably just office gossip."

She sat back a little, but I could tell she was sitting very stiffly, "Uh huh. When we get home you pick up the boys. I want to wash up."

"Sure," I said. We drove home from then on in silence.

Later I got the boys back. They were pretty tired. I got them washed up while Myra fixed them a bite to eat. A little later they were off to bed. I stayed downstairs, turned on the TV and waited...and waited...and waited. I checked the clock; it was after 9:00. I'd half expected a downstairs visit from Myra.

Since we'd moved to our new home the dungaree mini-dress had disappeared, but I still had hopes. I should have remembered what my pappy used to say, 'when you start to think you can count on a woman; that's when you can't count on them. Don't try to figure them out;' he'd say, ' it's like trying to figure out a possum.' I gave up. I got up and went upstairs. Myra was sound asleep.

I climbed in bed and decided to give the situation some serious thought. Let's see, married going on eleven, no twelve years. Lived in an apartment, then a small 'equity home, and now the 'big one'. Myra had finished schooling, gotten one then a second job. We had two fine little boys. I was proud of them. I had a pretty good job, a career on the way, and no serious bills except the mortgage and some furniture costs.

About the social and personal life, let's see. Since we'd moved out we'd not done any entertaining. We hadn't seen any of our old friends, and made no new ones. We'd gone to the Presbyterian Church we'd been married in, but since the move we'd shopped but hadn't settled on anything. So there; no church and no social life.

What about the private life, our emotional, sexual, lives? We used to 'plan' on something at least once a week, and we'd had numerous spontaneous happenings. Myra used to taunt me with her body so I'd chase her around the house. The kids were usually away someplace so we could do things. There'd been no taunting, no flirting, and no planned escapades in some time.

When was the last time we hooked up? Memorial Day; it'd been the Sunday of the Memorial Day weekend. We'd been to her parents'. The kids were tired so we put them to bed, and we'd gone to bed ourselves. Memorial Day was the end of May. This was the first week in July. What had happened?

OK, what had Memorial Day been like? I remember it had been a quickie. Myra was tired and wanted to go to sleep. I'd been drinking, but Myra never drank so why was she so tired? Was she really tired? I couldn't remember.

What had happened since Memorial Day? Nothing. I couldn't remember anything. I couldn't remember even kissing. OK, we'd been busy. I'd finished the school year, then started my summer job. Myra was working extra hard at hers. I remember I'd had to get her car tuned up; she'd been spending a lot of time on the road for her work. I never thought to ask; had it been visiting people about their wills? Had Mr. Charm and Sex Appeal been with her?

We hadn't talked lately. We had talked, but not like we used to. In the past we talked about plans, the future, the kids, the kids' futures, her parents, my parents, and her aged grandmother who was her most favorite person in the whole wide world. She never brought any of that up; I hadn't either. But we had talked.

What had we talked about? We talked about my job and my inadequacies. We argued some. Once she called me 'teacher boy'; she'd said it just to be mean. That was something new; she'd never talked or acted that way before. Where did that come from? I know we had a respect problem; I recall at least twice I got a put down for being, what did she say? I was too inexperienced, too, what was the word she used? I was too naïve. I was naïve. I didn't know squat. She said I didn't know squat. That was a new phrase for her; that wasn't a woman phrase no that was a man phrase.

We were at the party today. Once I was near 'Charm Boy'. He and one of the lawyers were talking shop. What did 'Charm Boy' say, he said, "So and so didn't know squat." Well I figured I knew where Myra got the squat.

I lay there on my back, in my bed, next to my wife, in my house, and I knew - I had a problem. Now asshole; what am I going to do about it? Deciding what to do; damn, that wouldn't be so easy. Then it hit me; I didn't think I was alone. I knew I wasn't alone.

I sat up in bed. What did I do with that scrap of paper? I got up and found the trousers I'd worn at the party. I fiddle around in the pocket; ah, there it was. I took out my cell phone and logged Allyson Standish's phone number in it. I tore up the paper, climbed back in bed and went to sleep. I slept like a baby. My wife, my wonderful oh so sophisticated up and coming wife forgot one thing. Her husband, her 'teacher boy'; he knew a few things about 'team building'.

~~v~~

The next morning we all got up at just about the same time. The boys were up, wide awake, and just as rambunctious as they should be. Myra acted irritated about something. I looked at her, "I'm going out for a little while. Don't know when I'll be back."

She looked at me like I just stole her wallet, "Where're you going?"

I smiled, "Just out."

She said, "Just out? What kind of answer is that? I planned on going to Walmart, and then some food shopping. I thought you'd watch the boys."

I just kept smiling, "You take them with you. I have plans."

We both looked around at the boys; they were being real hellions at the moment. Myra pleadingly looked at me, "Can't you?"

"Nope, got plans."

I finished my coffee, slipped on my tennis shoes, scooped up my keys and headed for my car. I drove a Ford Explorer. Myra drove a Chevy Suburban. I got to my car, got in, started her up, and pulled away. I got a glimpse of Myra looking out the living room window as I left. I figured she'd have a real nice day bonding with the boys.

Now where did I go? Nowhere. I drove down the block, got out my cell and called Allyson. To my surprise it wasn't Allyson, but Wendell who picked up. He said, "Hello."

I responded, "Is this Wendell Standish?"

He said, "Yes it is, who is this?"

I told him, "It's Steve Cornish, Myra's husband. Allyson, your wife gave me this number. Is she there?"

He said, "Yeah, this is her phone. I'll go get her."

I heard some scrambling around in the back, and some noise. I think I heard some kids, but I distinctly heard Mr. Charisma say something like, 'It's Steve Cornish. What's he want? What'd you give him your number for?'

I got a breathless Allyson Standish on the phone, "Hello, Steve? Steve Cornish?"

I answered, "Yeah, thought I'd call to see if you two got home all right."

She laughed, "That's a silly thing. Why'd you really call?"

I replied, "Don't know exactly; guess I just wanted to talk. You busy right now?"

She said, "Are you serious?"

I replied, "Sure am."

"We're just finishing breakfast. What you wanted to meet up somewhere?" I heard her chuckling. Then I heard her speak to I guess her husband, "It's your paralegal's husband. He wants to see me today," there was a pause, then "I don't know. Do you mind if I go?" There was another gap, "Sorry Steve Wendell wants me to hang around the house today. Maybe some other time."

I answered into the phone, "OK, I'll call you another time."

I heard her laugh, "Yes, please do."

I hung up my phone. I restarted my car and headed for the mall. There was a movie there I wanted to see anyway. I checked my watch. The mall was certainly open. I could wander around the stores till the movie started. That's what I did.

I went to the mall and mostly just hung around. I went to the book store; didn't see anything. Checked out the record shop; nothing there either. Stopped off at the sport's store; prices were over inflated. Slipped in one of the anchor department stores; checked the lingerie and bought a pair of panties. Myra wore a size six so I bought an eight. I went to the movie, bought some popcorn, and enjoyed myself.

The movie came to a spine tingling conclusion a little after 4:00. I got back in my car and drove home. I left the bag with the panties on the passenger seat of my car. Maybe Myra would find them. She'd see they weren't her size. Maybe she'd wonder who I'd bought them for. Maybe she'd start to worry a little.

~~v~~

When I got home the boys were in the den playing Wi or something. Myra was in the kitchen fixing dinner. It smelled good; it was a dish I liked. I also noticed Myra was in a pretty little mini-skirt and one of those crop top blouses. I smelled perfume too.

I came in the kitchen, she smiled, "Have a good day?"

I said, "Not bad."

I sat at the kitchen table while she brewed a fresh pot of coffee. She seemed to be overly cheerful. We sat at the table, had a cup of 'Joe', and talked about nothing in particular. I wouldn't say she was going out of her way to be nice; I would say she was more like the Myra I loved.

We had dinner. The boys were better behaved than normal. I wondered if she'd read them the riot act. We got them to bed around 9:00; they had an early bus to catch for Day Camp. By 10:00 it was just Myra and me. I wondered if she'd gotten any cell phone calls during the afternoon, maybe a call from someone at work, maybe a call from Mr. 'He Man'. We talked a while, and close to 10:30 she slithered over, took my hand, and proceeded to lead me up to our bedroom.

'Oh boy,' I thought, 'this was better than I hoped.'

We undressed and climbed in bed together. Neither of us had done much so we were pretty clean. I didn't care; I liked her puss no matter how it smelled. We lay down side by side. I thought, 'This was going to be great, just like old times,' I snuggled up.

Myra snuggled back. She kissed me on the lips. She started nibbling on my neck. She worked her way down my chest, pinching my nips with her teeth. She crawled down toward my stomach, licking and kissing all the way. She got down to my abdomen and took her soft delicate right hand and gently caressed my jewel sack. I was in Heaven.

Myra looked up at me with love. "I love you so much," she said, "tonight I'm going to do something special, something we've never done before," she squeezed my sack oh so gently, then she moved her hand to my penis and softly stroked it. I believed I grown to be sixteen inches of solid steel; it felt like it anyway. She lowered her face to my crotch and then she flicked her eyelashes against the head of my penis. These were butterfly kisses; we'd used them with the boys when they were toddlers, and no she'd never done anything like that before.

She slowly, ever so slowly dropped her face, her mouth, then her lips to the head of my manhood. I felt her soft lips as she gently kissed the head of my dick. She was making love to my penis with her mouth. She began to take me in her mouth. Oh how I prayed this wasn't happening. For a split second I thought I'd lose my erection, but I fought to keep my mind a blank. In my mind I kept saying this was someone else. I thought of Allyson Standish and how good she looked. I started to imagine my wife was Mrs. Standish. And why would I do that?

Myra might be pretending this was love, but not me. I was pretending. I was pretending I was despoiling the wife of the man who I now knew had stolen mine. For more than ten years we'd been married, and not once in ten years had she ever even come so close as to be near my penis. Not like this, never like this. I knew the truth. My wife was fucking one of her bosses, and she thought I was so stupid as to not know. I almost chuckled, 'Now who was it who didn't know squat?'

What did I do? Nothing. I Iay back and let her do her duty. And to show her just how much I appreciated her 'loving efforts', I gave her exactly what she deserved. I ejaculated in her face.

I shot my load all over her. She leaped back, "Steve!"

I reached out for her, "Oh come to me. Let me help you lick it up, lick it all up." I took my fingers and started sopping up my 'wasted' semen so I could slather it in her mouth. I would have felt happier if I had jerked off using sandpaper.