Trinity

Okay, this was getting eerie. I said, " My mind is in turmoil right now. I don't know how you're doing it. But you're right. I want Tudwell to live a long and miserable life. But Brenda is a different matter."

I tried to explain, " You can't just turn off your feelings for a person who's been such a significant part of your life. My wife and I had an exclusive connection. It was a living thing. It's dead now. I can feel it. So, my sense of alienation isn't a matter of ego, or jealousy. It's a permanent psychological block. I've lost all faith in her."

My gorgeous little star-girl added sympathetically, "Yes , I can sense that."

Really??!! You can sense the end of other people's hopes and dreams - can you!!??

I said, resignedly, "My rational mind tells me that I need to forgive and forget. But my heart just won't let me do it. I'd reconcile with Brenda in an instant if it had been a spur of the moment thing. But I know that she met with him more than once. So, it was a planned and conscious betrayal. Now I have to go through the long and excruciating process of untangling our lives. "

It helped to say it out loud, even to a crazy person. It also reminded me that I had an alleged "alien" from the planet cough-sigh sitting next to me in a shimmering black catsuit, big gorgeous titties swaying and wobbling as we hit the occasional bump. I said, hoping to get the truth out of her, "Honestly, isn't there somebody you can contact?"

She said miserably, "Not within six-or-seven-thousand light years and they've probably already been eaten." She turned her lovely little tear stained face to me and said plaintively, "You're my only hope. I have to place myself in your hands."

Great!! I'd just adopted a gorgeous stray kitten while in the process of divesting myself of a cheating wife. Why me!!?? Even worse, this particular woman looked like a Sports Illustrated cover girl. I was sure her presence wouldn't go over well in the divorce process with Brenda. But what else could I do?

I was planning the opening moves as I merged onto I-25 and headed north. I knew that I had to find a place to stay. Because I wasn't going to be able to live with my soon to be ex-wife. So, I decided I could drop my star-girl off first, while I went to the house.

The Marriott Albuquerque is a fifteen story monolith in the general vicinity of where I lived. It was a bit overly grand and expensive for my tastes. But I wanted an anonymous place to park Stella and there's nothing that compares to a big convention style hotel for anonymity.

I'd come back and try to figure out what to do with Stella once I'd hammered out the ground rules with Brenda and gathered a few essentials to tide me over. I told her to stay in the truck while I checked us in. She said, "Why?"

I didn't want to explain that we would probably get our picture in the Albuquerque Journal if I paraded her through the lobby. She was that spectacular, particularly in a skin tight outfit. So, I told her, "You never can tell. The authorities might be on the lookout for aliens."

She got a expression of absolute horror and said anxiously, ""I'll wait!! I saw what they did to the people on the ship that crashed." Apparently, she had a vision of being dissected like a lab rat.

The check-in took a bit of time because they had to hunt up a room with twin beds. I emerged from the rear door and escorted Stella up the stairwell to our room. The sight of her incredible, nearly naked buns twitching up fourteen floors in a cat suit put me at the end of my rope.

Once we got in the room, she wandered around like she had never seen so much opulence. I said, "Doesn't your planet have places like this?" I'd given up trying to be rational with her.

She said, "No, my planet is the same size as yours, but we have a hundred times the population. So, we live like rodents in small rooms in huge towers, each room with just the basics."

It seemed to me that she had just described Manhattan. But I said, "Well try to relax. This is going to take a while."

I showed her how to work the TV. She acted like she had never seen anything so antiquated. But she immediately locked in on a cosmetics commercial. I closed the door while she was staring at the TV fascinated and went back down the elevator to the truck

It was close to midnight. It'd been a long day and I would start the painful process of learning why Brenda had betrayed me tomorrow - once I'd gotten some sleep. But I had to get the preliminaries out of the way.

My wife was lying on the living room couch when I came in. She was in her ratty old robe. She looked devastated, and beautiful. My entry woke her. She stirred, swung her gorgeous bare legs around to sit up and said shyly, "Hi, you're finally home."

I said gently and lovingly, because you can't just turn off fourteen years of happy marriage, "Yes, I need to get some things and I want to make arrangements to talk tomorrow. I also wanted to make sure you were okay."

She got up and ran to me. She buried her head on my chest, crying hard and said, "Oh God Davey!! I am soooo sorry. I never expected this to happen. I'm such a fool."

I held her and rubbed her back as she wept. I said, perhaps too harshly, "Well it did happen. Now we BOTH have to figure out how to deal with the aftermath. We can start that process in the morning. But I'm so emotionally drained that I don't want to do anything but sleep now.'

She leaned back in my arms, gave me a scorching look and said, "Let's go to bed. I want to start making it up to you!!"

I gave her a wan smile and said, "That isn't going to happen Brenda. This will be difficult enough without complicating it with sex. I just need to get a few of my things, and I'll be out of here. We can talk later."

The next fifteen minutes were agonizing. My wife, the woman I'd loved for almost a third of my life, followed me around crying pitifully and begging me to stay, while I gathered clothes, toiletries, and my laptop.

I finally stopped, turned to her and said angrily, "Look!! What did you expect would happen? Did you think I would just accept your fucking that douchebag as the price of staying married to you?"

I'd never spoken to her that way. It was her first hint that there might be fatal consequences. She began to whine, "It was only for a couple of weeks. You were never supposed to find out. I was so careful." That confirmed what I'd suspected. It was premeditated. My heart blew up like the Death Star.

I said, maybe a little over-ruthlessly, 'You play, you pay, now both of us lose. I've gotta get out of here or I'll say things I'll be sorry for." I closed the roller bag, picked up my laptop and marched out to the truck. Brenda followed me all the way wailing, "Don't go... Please don't go... I'll do anything." It was heartrending.

I'm a nerd. So, of course I had to over-analyze. First of all, it was obvious that Brenda had no "plan B." She'd expected to have a little fun and then resume life as my loving wife, her husband being none-the-wiser. Second, whatever her motivation she knew all-along that what she was doing was wrong. Finally, her reasons were more convoluted than simply helping Turd through a rough patch.

My wife was a nurturer, right down to the tips of her colorfully lacquered toenails. That also, no-doubt, explained her strange fascination with rehabilitating Dickbreath. Still, it did NOT explain her fucking him. Of course, Brenda must have believed that the situation was temporary. And since no husbands were harmed in the making of her fantasy, her actions were perfectly appropriate, at least in her own mind. I didn't like it and I didn't sympathize with it. But I DID understand it.

Ultimately, Richard "Turd" Tudwell was the one who had to be brought to account. Turd probably saw it as part of a game, one he had played throughout his prolonged adolescence. The cool kids got the hot chicks. So naturally Turd had to have my wife.

Of course, I blamed Brenda too. But it was Tudwell's scheming that had brought her over to the dark side. So, I was NOT going to unleash the hellhounds of the Darkweb on Brenda, as I intended to do with Tudwell. Still, the marriage was over... History!! Nothing short of time-travel would revive it.

Which brought my thoughts back to my little star-girl. It was close to 1 AM as I entered, trying to be as quiet as possible. To my total surprise, instead of being sound asleep Stella was lying naked on her bed. I just stood there staring.

She was a riot of colors. Her skin was fine alabaster. The contrast with her jet black hair and huge green eyes was striking. She had erect nipples like little maraschino cherries, sitting on the plateaus of a pair of huge tits that rose and puddled out on top of her rib cage like the desert mesas that surround Albuquerque.

I knew Stella was outrageously curvaceous. Her suit left nothing to the imagination. But I hadn't realized how toned her body was, taut flanks muscular legs and a genuine six-pack. She said mildly, "I knew you would need comforting after your discussion with your mate."

What was it with all the fucking female compassion. First Brenda, now her. Are all women sluts?

Then I felt her touch my mind and she recoiled, jumped to her feet. Flustered, she quickly wrapped one of those fluffy white hotel robes around herself. She looked mortified. The robe was three or four sizes too big, which also gave her the appearance of being six years old. Her perfect face had changed color from alabaster to flaming red.

She gasped, "I'm so sorry!! I saw it!! Life's different here!! I had no idea!!"

I said angrily, "Saw what?!!" Her little charade was getting irritating. Or maybe I had just had my fill of other people, particularly female other people.

The said simply, "How inappropriate my actions were. You're in conflict. You don't want to separate from your mate. But you don't see how you can be with her." I looked astounded. Maybe she DID read minds.

She added sympathetically, "The actual giving herself isn't the roadblock. You know she only wants you. It's the disrespect, the deliberate effort to deceive you, that's what you find irreconcilable. You don't know how you could possibly keep your self-esteem if you ignored the lack of regard that she showed you by entering into a clandestine relationship.

Okay, I didn't know how she did it. But that was the problem in a nutshell. It was a matter of keeping my pride. Pride is the deadliest sin because it goes directly to who you are. Lust, greed, gluttony, sloth, envy, wrath are straightforward transgressions. You can overcome them by suppressing the urge. But pride's innate.

Pride dictates how you view yourself and how you behave. If you have too much pride, you're a conceited asshole. If you have too little, you're a wimp. The problem is that the mindset needed to maintain an acceptable balance has to be constantly adjusted as each new test arises. Otherwise you sacrifice your self-respect.

I might have gotten around Brenda fucking Tudwell if she could convince me that she'd learned her lesson. The real injury lay in the fact that she'd deliberately conspired to share her intimate self with a guy I hated. The thrill Tudwell must have gotten from Brenda's conquest must have been more rewarding than the sex. THAT violation required a suitable response, or I would lose any concept of personal self-worth, or dignity.

To me, the only acceptable reaction to deliberate betrayal would be to end the marriage. Sure, Brenda would have her excuses. They might even seem persuasive on the surface. But what do you say to somebody who's chosen to cheat and then lie about it? What could Brenda tell me that would convince me that she wouldn't do it again? It was a true existential dilemma. Sartre would be pleased.

Stella had clearly been monitoring my thinking as those feelings passed through my mind. And yes, I was beginning to buy-into the idea that she could do that. Her beautiful face reflected my shifting emotions as I worked my way through the situation.

She said eagerly, "I'll be your companion. We're both alone now." That remained to be seen. But it was late, and I had a tough day in front of me.

I said, "Do you mind if we sleep now?" She nodded and said, "Our sleep cycles are not like yours. But I need to power down my mind and the darkness helps me to do that." Okay - that was interesting... Was she actually a robot? I turned off the light because I didn't want to think about it.

*****

Brenda met me at the door. She looked awful. She said sadly, "Polly called me all kinds of whore last night. Apparently, she saw a video that Tud sent out to the whole wide world. I hadn't seen it since I'm not on his contact list." I looked skeptical.

She said shamefaced, " He took me out of his phone when we started getting together. He said he wanted to avoid suspicion." I thought to myself, "What a moron!!"

Brenda said, "I saw the clip and all of the incriminating text messages. By the way, thank you for redacting me. I don't know how I could have faced my friends after witnessing that sleazy stuff."

She added sadly, "I don't know why Richard sent those things out. But he's ruined his life. Polly's divorcing him and the Air Force is starting an inquiry. Adultery's a crime in the military, you know."

Then she realized what else she was implying, and she hastily added, "I haven't talked to Richard since my world ended. Polly told me all of that."

I could have warned Brenda that Turd's current problems were just the tip of the iceberg. I had much more diabolical thoughts about where his life would go once I got to the Darkweb. But that was between Turd and me. My present goal was to nail down an acceptable exit from the marriage.

Just as we had done every morning for the past fourteen years, we sat at our kitchen table and sipped a delightful French roast. I'm sure I appeared as overwhelmed as she did. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying. Her hair was tousled, and she looked like she hadn't slept.

People react differently to betrayal. The more stimulus-response types lose control. They whine, they yell, they throw stuff and do self-destructive things. That's because they're frustrated by their inability to change the injustice of the circumstance.

I suppose that's cool - if that's who you are. Temper tantrums might even feel good at the time. But they're self-defeating. You don't get anything except madder and more frustrated.

Shit happens. The key to maintaining your personal pride lies in how you react. Brenda and I were both tough minded. It was part of the attraction. We were practical people. We'd always been able to accept the things we couldn't change, and we had the wisdom to know the difference. We also knew that the circumstance was what it was. Now we were committed to coping with it as civilly as we could.

We'd had fourteen good years. Neither of us wanted to taint those happy times. Hence, there would be no melodrama. It would just be two people who had once loved each other dealing in the most constructive way possible with unimaginable tragedy.

She looked at me earnestly, seeking a little hope. I looked back with inevitability. She finally said miserably, "It's over isn't it?" I nodded.

She went on with, " I knew it the moment I saw the video clip. I swear he meant nothing to me, which is what makes my actions all-the-more incomprehensible."

I continued to just stare at her, gutted. She sighed and said, with an ironic laugh, "It's for the best. I probably wouldn't have respected you if you'd wanted to stay married." Brenda was a very tough and pragmatic woman.

I said, "It wasn't the sex. That was bad enough. But the deceit was the deal breaker." Then I paused. I couldn't hold it in any longer. I said, with intense sorrow, "Why did you conspire with that pathetic douchebag to deceive me?"

Her face turned white. She dropped her head on her delectable chest and sobbed, the wings of her hair hiding her beautiful face. I waited. She finally got herself pulled together, wiped her eyes, and said with intensity in her voice, "When do you think I fell?"

That question took me by surprise. I shrugged and said confused, "Why does it matter?"

She said, "Because it proves what a foolish woman I am."

She stopped and gathered her thoughts. Then she said, "Up to the time we argued about Richard I had not done anything that wouldn't pass the husband test. He had probably given me signs. But I was too stupid to see them. So, I thought your concerns were misplaced and juvenile.

"The next time he visited, I told Richard what you had told me, and he assured me that he would stop dropping by. That's when it happened. I thought the situation was resolved and I was about to show him to the door. But I took our coffee cups to the sink first.

"He came up behind me, grabbed me, and aggressively kissed me. I didn't expect it. So, I hesitated, confused and in that instant, I was lost."

She looked sheepish and said, "He just shoved his hand down my pants and started twiddling my little button. You know what touching that does to me. It turned me into a raving lunatic. The worse part was that I had the biggest orgasms of my life - multiple times."

Brenda saw my agony and added gently, "It had nothing to do with the man. It was the situation, the sheer naughtiness of it all. I had always been the good girl and now, here I was fucking a neighbor on our kitchen floor, feet waving in the air and loving it."

She added sadly, "Then there was the accounting. I see myself as a moral person. Yet, I was lying in a sweaty pile under Richard Tudwell. I knew he forced me - at first. But I was all-in for most of the episode. How do you justify THAT!!"

Brenda gave me a bleak smile and said, "My self-image couldn't handle the truth. Because I was just a slut otherwise, and I wouldn't go there willingly."

I withheld comment. Seriously??!! You're asking me whether I believed her? The answer is TOTALLY. Brenda LOVES to fuck. Once her motor gets running it's impossible for her to shut it off. I think everybody in the neighborhood knew that. It was the reason why she was considered so hot.

A normal person would make a mental note and walk on. But a sociopath like Turd would consider Brenda's hotness an opportunity and, of course, his right. When they asked Sir Edmund Hillary why he climbed Mount Everest he said, "Because it was there." The same was true with Brenda. She was THERE. So, Turd had to rise to the challenge, so to speak.

Why would he do such a fucked-up thing? Because he could. It was part and parcel of his need to prove, or perhaps the correct word is "reassure" himself that he was as powerful and entitled as he thought he was. That's the trademark of the true narcissist, a person without the slightest clue that other people have feelings.

Brenda grimaced and said, "Never underestimate the power of guilt with a good Catholic girl. My slutty actions killed me. So, I desperately needed a way to forgive myself."

She added hesitantly, it was obvious that I wasn't going to like this part, "Then Richard began to blubber. He told me how much I meant to him, how I had saved his life. So, THAT was my handy-dandy absolution. I was 'rescuing' a sweet sensitive, and misunderstood soul from a bad situation."

Brenda grimaced and said, "I won't lie. The sex was amazing. It was just so novel, so thrillingly forbidden. I knew it was wrong. But my justification was that you'd never find out. So, you wouldn't be hurt. It was sadly delusional. But what other option did I have?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper. She said, guiltily, "The seal had been broken. I was a cheater. So, yes, I met him three other times. It was the same as the last. I flew down and we got together at the hotel."