You Never Noticed

"Do all women think like you, or are you uniquely stupid?"

"Tom, please, don't be insulting."

"I always thought you were a brilliant woman. But, this? You're not making any sense, Greta. You need to come to your senses and do it now, or we're done. I can't stay married to a woman who thinks and acts the way you're doing."

"I don't want a divorce, Tom. What do I have to do to get that off the table?"

"I don't know that I can take it off the table," I told her. "You betrayed me for two years. I have lost all trust in you. I can't look at you and not think about what you've done. I can't let you out of my sight without wondering if you're doing it again. What's worse is I've not seen one bit of remorse from you or guilt. You act like you've done nothing wrong, and this is somehow all my fault."

"I never said that!"

"Yeah, you did. This is all because of my ego, not because you're a cheating slut. How else should I take it?"

"I said I was sorry that this hurt you."

"Exactly! I want you to say you're sorry you cheated on me! I want you to cry and feel humiliated! I want you to beg me to forgive you!"

"Is that what it's going to take? You want me to degrade myself? Tell me what it takes, Tom, I'll do whatever you want to keep this family together."

"You know, you lied to me tonight?"

"I have not lied. I've been very upfront and told you everything. I didn't want to insult you more by trying to deny what I've done. I'm not proud of it. Yes, I know I violated our wedding vows. I didn't think it was that bad, that is until you found out. So, how did I lie to you?"

"You said you only fucked him when we couldn't be together, that you never took our time for him. That's a lie."

"It is not! I had sex with him during my lunch hour," she snapped.

"How many times have I tried to get you to have lunch with me in the last two years?" I asked.

She stared at me, and her face turned red as she realized the truth of what I was saying.

"Yeah, that's right," I told her. "I asked you many times to have lunch with me, and you always had an excuse. I thought you were just busy, but now I know why you never could make time to have lunch with me. You chose him over me. You swore you never did. You're a liar and a whore."

For the first time all evening, I saw tears well up in her eyes. I think she finally began to see the seriousness of our situation.

"Tom, please, I beg you, please find a way in your heart to forgive me. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to divorce you. I don't want our kids to grow up with divorced parents. Please, what can I do to fix this?"

"Here is what we are going to do," I began telling her my rehearsed plan. "First thing tomorrow morning, you are going to quit your job."

"Quit my job?" she exclaimed. "I've been working there for twelve years. I'll lose my pension and all my seniority! I have stock options I'll lose!"

"I don't give a shit. If you want to stay married, you will not work in that place with that man anymore. Otherwise, tell me now, and first thing tomorrow, I will tell my lawyer to file for divorce on the grounds of Adultery. To make sure people understand what's happening, I'll send your parents and all our friends a copy of the video of you and your boss fucking."

The tears were freely flowing now. Good. I liked that.

"What's it going to be?" I asked.

"Ok," she said, grabbing a tissue out of the box on the end table and wiping her eyes. "I don't have much choice. I'll quit."

"Good. Then, we'll still meet with the lawyer and have him draw up the divorce papers. I won't file them right away. I'll hold onto them and file them if you don't do everything to make this up to me."

"I'll do anything," she said submissively.

"And, while we're at the lawyer, you will fill out the paperwork to sue your boss and your company for sexual harassment."

"What? Sexual harassment? But, I told you, I decided to sleep with him. He never pressured me into it!"

"Bullshit," I fired back. "That's your thought process now. The reality of it is that your boss is a powerful and influential person in your company. He pressured you for years to get in bed with him, harassing you relentlessly until he got his promotion. Then, he gave you an ultimatum, put out, or go back to the secretarial pool."

"We don't have a secretarial pool."

"You get my point. Hollister threatened to fire you or demote you."

"But, he didn't," she argued.

"I told you I don't give a shit. You will swear in court that he did. In reality, that's what happened; you're too close to it and too brainwashed to see it. That brings me to the next thing you're going to do. You're going to go to a psychologist and try to find out how much brainwashing this asshole did. Something happened to turn you from the girl I married into a slut. Did he hypnotize you? Drug you? We'll figure it out."

"I don't think he..." she started to defend him, but I raised my hand.

"Do you want to stay married?"

"Yes, more than anything," she replied.

"Then you will do this. We will sue them, and you will swear on a stack of Bibles it happened just the way I said."

Greta lowered her head and nodded.

"You are not to see him ever again. You will not speak to him. If he calls you, you don't answer, and you tell me. If you don't, I'll consider you're still cheating and file for divorce. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Tom. I understand."

"He is going to be pissed. He may come after you. If he does, you better fucking tell me."

"I will. I swear it."

"We're also going to have the lawyer prepare a post-nuptial agreement that will say that if you ever cheat on me again, you'll get nothing in the divorce."

She gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly."

"If we divorce now, you know I'd get at least half and the kids! If I get the kids, then I get the house too."

"Ok, then we're done here. I'll give you 15 minutes to pack a bag and get the fuck out."

"No, wait," she pleaded. "I didn't say I want to divorce. I was just explaining how a divorce now would favor me. I'll sign a postnup. It doesn't matter; I'll never cheat on you again."

"Then, in that case, you can stay. You'll sleep in the guest room. I can't stand to be around you. You'll continue to be the perfect wife you've always been, except this time, you'll be faithful, or your ass will be on the street."

"I understand."

"The last condition," I began, "is that I will get payback. You spent the last two years fucking someone else, hundreds of times. From now until I decide otherwise, I can fuck anybody I want, anytime I want. You have zero say in it."

"Only so that it doesn't take my time, right? Just like I did," Greta tried to insert her own rules into my plan. She failed.

"That was your fucked up sense of morality," I chided her. "This is payback. It's my rules. I can fuck anyone I want, any time, any place. Accept it or not? Tell me now."

She began to cry louder, "Alright! Alright! I accept."

"Good," I said, finishing my bourbon. "Finish your drink, then go take a shower and wash his stink off of you, but be down here and serve my dinner by 7:00. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Tom, I understand."

She drained what was left of her whiskey and ran upstairs to take a shower.

I picked up my cell phone and looked at the time. Perfect. Phase two should be fun.

Chapter 2

I decided to take one thing off Greta's plate for the evening. I ordered Chinese. It arrived at 6:55, and at precisely 7:00, I was seated at the dining table as Greta walked in, serving me the food like I was at a restaurant. She had put on a sexy, little black dress and heels; I assume to try to woo me.

"Your dinner, Tom," she said as she sat down, carrying a plate loaded with Moo Goo Gai Pan and Char Shu Ding. Next to that, she placed a bowl of Wonton Soup and an eggroll. After serving, she stepped back and waited expectantly.

"You're not dining?" I asked, without looking up from my food.

"I didn't think you would want me to," she replied, looking sad.

"I'm not a tyrant," I told her. "I'm just hurt and angry. Get a plate and join me. Bring your phone, though, just in case there's an issue with the girls."

She smiled and ran out of the room, feeling a trace of hope, returning a few minutes later with her food and phone. She sat down across from me and started to eat. I checked my watch. If things were going according to plan, she should be getting a call soon. I started the recording app on my phone and waited for the show to begin.

It didn't take long.

Two minutes after Greta sat down, her cell phone rang. I could tell by the look on her face that it was a call she didn't want to take. Before she could send the call to voicemail, I told her to answer it and put it on speaker.

She looked terrified, and her hands were shaking. I repeated my previous instructions. She swallowed hard and tapped on the phone and answered it, then pushed the speaker icon.

"You fucking bitch!" shouted Hollister Avery. "You set me up! You fucking bitch!"

Greta looked at me, pleadingly. I merely raised my eyebrows and waited.

"What do you mean?" she asked nervously into the phone.

"I mean, you fucking told my wife! You're trying to break us up! You sent her a video of us fucking! You fucking, bitch! I'm going to kill you!"

"Hollister, I swear I didn't send her anything. I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Someone sent my wife a video of us fucking today at the hotel!" he explained. "Why did you do it? Did you think I'd leave my wife for a worthless whore like you? You're done! Do you hear me? You're finished!"

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything!"

"I mean, you're fired! Don't even come to the office to pack up your shit. I'll have it all thrown out! If you show up at the office, I'll have you arrested! Stay the fuck away from me and leave my wife alone!"

I stood up and leaned over the phone, then spoke in a clear, strong, and steady voice.

"Hello, Hollister," I said. "This is Tom, Greta's husband."

He suddenly became quiet. Before I could say anything, he hung up.

I shrugged and sat back down, stopping the recording. "Well, that changes things," I said with a grin. Greta looked like a train wreck.

"What does it change?" she asked.

"You won't have to quit your job tomorrow," I said with a laugh. "And our lawsuit just got even bigger."

"We're seriously going to sue them?" Greta asked.

"Oh Hell, yes," I said. "Now, Greta, I want you to do something for me that you have always hated to do."

She stared at me with fear in her eyes. "W-what's that?" she asked.

"Something that you didn't seem to mind doing for your boss," I said as I turned my chair and unzipped my pants.

"Get on your knees and crawl over here to me and suck my cock," I told her. "You better fucking give me the best blowjob you've ever given, and you better like doing it. If not, then get the fuck out, and I'll find someone else to suck my cock."

She looked utterly defeated as she wiped a stray tear from her cheek, then slipped out of her chair onto her knees and crawled across the dining room. By the time she reached me, I had my pants and underwear around my ankles and my cock in my fist. It wasn't hard.

"You're going to have to work for it," I explained as I showed her my flaccid state.

She reached for my cock, but I stopped her. "No hands," I scolded her. "Only use your mouth."

She proceeded to suck my cock as she had never done before. I swear at one point she came, her body shaking and convulsing, with my cock head in her throat. After several minutes, I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her head down as I pumped my cock in her mouth, shooting my load onto her tonsils. She gagged briefly, then swallowed it all.

"Clean up this mess," I said, indicating the dinner dishes, then stood, put my cock away and left the room.

Chapter 3

Some men are probably reading this right now and thinking, "What a fucking pussy!" or "No way I'm fucking that whore again!". What better way to get revenge on a woman than by fucking her how you want, when you want, with no concern about her pleasure or desire?

So, that's what I did. Greta would be in the kitchen cooking. I'd walk up behind her, pull her pants down, fuck her from behind, blow my load, and walk away. To me, once I found out she had been cheating on me, she stopped being my wife and became a cum receptacle. She wanted to be a whore for Hollister, well now she would be a whore for me. I never again made love to her. I used her for sex.

I would come in from mowing the lawn in 95-degree weather, drop my shorts, and point at my cock. Greta would come over, get on her knees, and suck me off, including a liberal amount of ball sucking.

Greta asked me once, "How long am I going to have to put up with this humiliation?"

I slapped her face with my cock and told her, "How long did I have to put up with you being a whore for another man?"

"Two years," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Then, another eighteen months sounds about right," I replied and shoved my cock back in her mouth. "Now, shut up and suck, you fucking whore."

Time passed. I did everything I had told her that I would do. First, I had the lawyer prepare the divorce papers, but we didn't file them. Second, I had him work up a postnup agreement. It said that if Greta ever cheated on me again, she would lose rights to almost all of our marital assets. She would walk away with her clothes and jewelry, her car, and about $73,000, which is the cost of a $100 whore, every day for two years. She signed it.

Next, Greta filed an enormous lawsuit against her boss and the company she had worked for until Hollister fired her. It included sexual harassment and wrongful termination. They balked at first. However, at our first group powwow, when our lawyer played the recording of Hollister admitting to fucking her and then firing her over it, they caved. The company settled for a hefty seven-figure check.

Hollister fought us. He had a hard time, though. First, Daniella, his wife, divorced him and took him to the cleaners. Then, the company fired him. We won our lawsuit, but the bastard didn't have much left. We took whatever he had, and would be able to recover more if and when he ever got more money. But, we had better luck.

One night, Hollister was at a dive bar, drinking heavily. He got in his car to drive home. He didn't notice that I'd been in his car while he was inside getting plastered. When he came out and started driving home, I sat in my home office, playing a driving game I'd created.

I activated the forward-facing camera on Hollister's car, and a clear view of the road appeared on my screen. I then stepped on the plastic accelerator of my X-box driving system, and his car sped up. I listened in via his On Star microphone as he started freaking out. I pushed the accelerator more, and my heads-up display showed his speed approaching 50 miles per hour.

I turned the wheel with a jerk, and the car careened down an off-ramp, running the red light and sliding into a hard right-hand turn. I had complete control of his car, driving it faster and faster. Hollister was screaming. I relished the sound.

Two turns later, and I was heading down on a dark, narrow, tree-shrouded two-lane road. "What the fuck is going on?" Hollister screamed. I saw a sign and a gravel road off to the right. I slammed on the brakes and turned, sliding into the gravel and bringing the car to a stop.

I activated the in-cabin camera so that I could see his reaction. Hollister tried to open the door and get out, but the doors were locked and wouldn't open. He frantically tried the windows, to no avail.

I lowered my headset microphone into position and spoke. My voice came out through the fancy, twelve-speaker car audio system.

"Hello, Hollister," I said.

He froze then looked around wildly. "Who is that? What are you doing to me?"

"Hollister," I began, "I know we only met a few times at formal occasions, but I'm disappointed you don't recognize the voice of the man whose wife you fucked for two years behind his back."

"Tom?" he shouted. "What the fuck are you doing? How are you controlling my car? Let me out!"

I laughed. "Hollister, I'm afraid you're not getting out any time soon."

"What do you want? You took almost everything I have! You have to let me go."

"Actually, I don't have to. I just wanted you to hear my voice and know that I'm the one doing this to you. I want you to think about what you did, how you ruined my marriage. I want you to think about that for the rest of your life."

"I'm sorry! I regret it all! Please, let me out of here. I just want to go home."

"No, sorry. Not happening. Oh, and by the way, I don't know why you ever wanted to fuck Greta in the first place. Daniella is a far hotter woman and much better in bed."

"What? You're not fucking my wife! You son of a bitch!"

"Oh, yes, as often as possible," I told him. "We're trying to catch up to the number of times you and my whore fucked. In fact, she's so good, once this is all over, she and I are getting married."

"You bastard!" he shouted, savagely trying to open the door. "I'm going to kill you."

I laughed. "No, Hollister," I told him calmly. "I'm going to kill you."

I switched the camera back to the front and gunned the motor. The car spat gravel as it rapidly accelerated. I could see a tall chain-link gate at the end of the road. I floored it and headed straight to the junction of the two gates.

"What are you doing?" Hollister screamed. "Stop! Stop! Please! Please, stop!" He was crying like a baby.

The car struck hard, breaking the gates open wide, and continued.

"Tom! I'm sorry! Please, stop!"

The car sped past warning signs, and through barricades, all the while, Hollister became increasingly desperate. Then, I saw it. It first appeared like a broad, dark smudge on the ground, but as the car barreled toward it, it became clear.

"What's that?" Hollister shouted. "Wait! Stop! No! I have money! More money! I can pay you!"

"Oh, I know all about the offshore account," I told him. "And, I know what happens to it when you die." I laughed harder.

"No! Please!" Hollister screamed. The engine of his car roared louder as the wheels no longer met resistance from the ground as it flew out over the open maw of the rock quarry.

The car seemed to hang in the air for a split second, then nosed down and fell three-hundred feet. I could see the ground below getting closer and closer on the screen. Hollister screamed the entire way down. Then, suddenly, the screen went black, and the sound cut off.

I smiled.

It was 2:43 AM on the second anniversary of the day I found out my wife had been cheating on me. I couldn't wait to celebrate with my wife.

Chapter 4

I woke Greta up with breakfast in bed. I made her favorite Eggs Benedict, with a side of fresh fruit and a toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese on top. I included a glass of hand-squeezed orange juice and a cup of steaming hot coffee. To top it off, I added a single red rose in a narrow vase.

"Honey," I said, using the epithet for the first time in 730 days. "Wake up."

Her eyes shot open, and she sat up with a start. "I'm sorry, Tom," she said instinctively. "I'll get your coffee made!" She started to get out of bed but noticed me standing with the tray and a big smile.

To say she was surprised was an understatement.

"W-what are you doing?" she asked.

I smiled and set the tray down over her lap. "Don't you know what today is?" I asked. She shook her head.

"It's the second anniversary of the day I learned about you and Hollister. That means it has been two years. My revenge ends today."

Her mouth fell open, and she started to speak, her voice broken with sobs.