The Smirk

Just a quick short story about a guy trying to keep it together in the face of adversity. Not much sex in this one.

*****

I probably would have left it alone and carried on with my life without her, but it was his smirk that did it; he forced my hand with that smirk and whether she saw it or not, their total disrespect tore into my soul.

It was obvious that Samantha, my wife of six years, wouldn't be my wife very much longer.

Part of the problem in our marriage was I had been working too hard for the past six months. I was in line for a big promotion; with it would come a very large bump in salary. That meant Sam could quit her job and we could start our family.

Another problem was Samantha is a beautiful woman; one of those drop-dead babes that never learned to be a bitch when men flirt with her. She didn't exactly flirt back, but she has a wonderful smile that sends the wrong message. Since Sam bears a close resemblance to Scarlett Johansson, the same beautiful face and great body only taller, men naturally gravitate to her.

I had my suspicions for a while; she was working too many late nights and there was more travel out of town. But the smirk on his face at their company holiday party - that was the smoking gun; I almost had to force Sam to invite me to this party and now I knew why.

Respect is a big thing in my family, my name is John Simoncelli by the way. If you'll indulge me for a few minutes I'll give you just one example. Back in high school I was the all-star shortstop for the varsity squad. It was early in the season and we were facing the team that had the best chance at keeping us from a conference championship. The opposing pitcher threw a fast ball right at my head; the ball missed my face but hit me in the helmet. I got up and started jogging to first. I looked over at the pitcher and he gives me a smirk, then quietly mouths, "pussy".

I charged the mound and surprised the shit out of him; instead of playing patty cakes like most baseball fights, I whack him with my fist right in the nose, breaking it and sending blood gushing all over his pretty white uniform.

All hell broke loose after that. I was suspended awaiting a hearing on whether I'd be permanently banned. My coach was fairly disgusted with me; but my old man agreed with me when he took me home. "I saw what that asshole did and said to you. You can't let these clowns disrespect, it all goes downhill after they know they have your balls."

The coach's disapproval bothered me though. He'd been my coach for the last three years and I wanted his respect. When I showed up in his office the next day he gave me a lecture I never forgot - until now.

"What do you care what some lowlife says to you? You know where I grew up; down at State and 75th where some gang banger was always trying to get me riled up. I was lucky, neither my mother or father would tolerate any fighting. That kept me on the straight path to college and out of the slum. Now I live where I want doing a job I love and those stupid gangbangers are either dead, in jail or living in a room with a needle in their arm.

"So, here's the thing; if you get to play for me again there will be no more fighting, no matter what the circumstance."

I ended up serving a three-game suspension. Somebody was looking out for me because at the hearing Ron Mueller, the opposing catcher, shows up. It seems he was disgusted with the way in which his coach was trying to win. Their coach had ordered the pitcher to throw that beanball with the intent of getting me banned permanently. Ron didn't want to win the title that way and saved my ass. Ron ended up being the catcher on my college team and eventually the best man at my wedding to Sam.

Back to the present. I could have handled it if Samantha had shown some respect and just said, "it's over and I'm leaving." I've been dumped before; granted not since college and not by a woman who stood before one hundred of our friends and family vowing to love me forever. But I could have handled it, believe me. Since Sam chose her path, obviously fucking her co-worker Jacob Harris and coming home to give me seconds, I found myself like one of those cartoon characters; my coach on one shoulder whispering in my left ear, "Take the high road and walk away.", my father on the other shoulder shouting in the right ear, "Crush them both, son!"

It didn't take a long time or any secret spy tricks to get the concrete proof I needed. Monday morning after her company party I took off work and hired a divorce lawyer and retained a private detective. The first night that same week when Sam called to tell me she was "working late" I called the ex-police detective and he followed them to the asshole's townhouse. No photos of them actually fucking, but I'm certain they didn't spend two hours in his townhouse analyzing spreadsheets.

Everything was ready for Sam's next visit to his place. Friday night she called to let me know she and a couple of the women from the office were having drinks and dinner. "Don't wait up John, it's been a while since I had a girls' night out."

An hour after her call I drove over to the address the detective had given me and there was Sam's car parked in the drive. I knocked on the door and was surprised when he answered the door standing in his bathrobe with that same smirk. "Don't get any ideas John, I'm a black belt in Karate."

"I'm not here to start anything Jacob; she's yours now and the last thing I need is a lying, cheating bitch for a wife. Tell Sam to come to the door so I can deliver these papers." I showed him the manila envelope. I called out, "Sam, come down stairs, no need to hide."

Sam came down the stairs wearing a robe that matched asshole's; I almost smiled. "Sam, here are the divorce papers. Get yourself a lawyer and have him or her contact mine to work out the settlement. Do NOT come home tonight or any time before tomorrow evening. By then I'll have my stuff out of our apartment and you can come back."

Sam took the envelope as if it were radioactive. "John, my folks and my brother's family were supposed to come for brunch tomorrow. What am I supposed to tell them if I'm not there?"

"Not a problem Sam. Just before I came over here I emailed your brother and gave him this address. I told him you and Jacob would be hosting your family here instead of at our apartment. I'm assuming he'll get the message in time. If not, I'll let them know about the change in venue when they arrive tomorrow. Bye"

I looked at Sam, she was starting to break down and cry, but then I saw it on her left hand and almost lost my cool. "Sam, you didn't even have the decency to take off my grandmother's wedding ring when you fuck this bastard? Give it to me now, the ring you gave me is in the envelope with the divorce papers."

Sam broke down completely but did get the ring off her finger. I left without saying another word.

I wasn't completely surprised when the doorbell rang Saturday morning at 11:00 AM; maybe her brother didn't get my email in time after all. "This will be awkward," I thought when I looked out the window to see Sam's family on the porch. I didn't have a clue how awkward until I opened the door.

"John, we're sorry. I got your email and I talked to Sam; can we come in and talk?"

For the next hour her brother, mother and father did their best to convince me I should let Sam back home and drop the divorce. It seems Sam went to her brother's house after I left her and Jacob, confessed everything and asked for their help. Sam knew I loved her mom and dad, especially since my folks moved to the Sunshine State after my dad's retirement. The three of them talked about counseling, forgiveness, pity, etc.

I spent the next full hour trying to convince them it wasn't going to happen. No one was happy, there were no smiles when they left. It took every bit of my willpower to not hug my mother-in-law when she walked out onto the front porch. She was crying and I wanted to tell her it was OK, but it wasn't and I didn't give her that hug.

We did the usual dance for the next few months until the divorce was final. She wanted to talk, I didn't. Her attorney asked for counseling, mine said it would be a waste of time and money; the marriage was irrevocably broken by my wife's infidelity.

The week before the divorce I was invited over to Ron's house for dinner. He knew more of the pissy details of why Sam and I broke up than I did because his wife Gerald and Samantha still talked occasionally. I was sitting in his kitchen watching his wife Jelly cook dinner. Jelly, that's what we all call her, was seven months pregnant and she just glowed. Ron saw me staring at her tummy and knew what I was thinking. "John, let's go out on the porch and chat."

"I'll meet you out there, my beer's gone." I headed over to the fridge and on the way out put my arm around Jelly's waist. "He adores you Jelly, don't ever cheat on him."

"Why would I do that John? I love that man and we're going to have a little boy soon. I'm not crazy."

"That's what I would have said about Samantha a year ago. Look at us now, six days from a divorce."

"Sam got stupid John. I'm not near that dumb."

"Ron's not gonna try to talk me out of this, is he?"

"Go on out there and listen to what he has to say. I'll tell you what I tell Sam every time she calls. I'll support the two of you any way I can except to give either of you my opinion on what you two should do."

I gave Jelly a kiss on the cheek and went outside. I handed Ron one of the beers and waited.

"John, Sam wants to meet with you and talk before the divorce is final. She called me and asked me to ask you."

"No surprise there; I've given it some thought because this isn't the first time she's asked. Why should I give her the satisfaction of her contrition? All it will do is ease her mind and I'm not going to give her that."

"I wouldn't either John. But let me ask you. Do you have any unresolved questions that she can answer for you? If so, turn this around on her. Get the answers to your questions first, then do whatever. Walk out, stay and listen, whatever."

What he said made sense. "So, you didn't get me out here to give her another chance?"

"No John, I only want what's best for you. If that's going through with the divorce, then I'm with you on it."

I met Sam the night before our court date at a little café. We asked for a quiet corner table.

"Thanks for meeting with me John." Sam looked like she was about to burst out in tears. It took every bit of my willpower not to take her small hands in mind.

I didn't give her the chance to start the discussion. "Sam, I know you have things you need or want to say to me, but first I have a couple questions." The waiter chose that moment to take our drink orders and start the spiel about the chef's specials. I interrupted him as politely as I could, ordered a bottle of wine and the chef's salad to split and asked the waiter to please give us as much privacy as possible. He understood.

"Sam, my first question is 'why'? I thought we had something special."

"We did John, but the reasons for my actions are all old clichés. We'd been together and exclusive for seven years. I was seduced by a good looking guy in the workplace who complimented me on anything and everything. You were spending more and more time thinking about or being at work."

"Not fair Sam. You know I only put in the hours to get the promotion. You wanted to be a stay at home mom and I was trying to make that possible."

"I know that John, I knew it then, too. But at the time I was being a selfish bitch, wanting it all. Right now I can't believe I screwed it up so bad, we were less than a year from having our babies; I even had names." Tears were falling from her eyes and I still resisted holding her hands.

"OK, I promised myself I wouldn't ask, but I have to know. Was he that much better in bed than me?"

Sam surprised me; she started to laugh through her tears. "NO, NO, NO. He couldn't hold a candle to your love making. I never had to fake it with you, every time you shoved that fat salami in me I orgasmed. I shouldn't tell you this, it may only piss you off more, but the only times he filled me up were the couple times he put it in my rear. He asked me so many times for anal sex I was starting to think he may be gay. But really it was only because that's when it had any friction. Sorry, I know I never let you back there and here I am confessing that I did it with him."

"Don't worry; never has been my thing."

"Well, that's a good thing John because your dick doesn't belong in a woman's ass."

Sam hadn't seen the waiter coming up behind her when she said this and when he dropped off the wine he took a moment to look at my lap and was smiling when he left. Sam turned beet red and we laughed together for the first time in six months.

We finished our salads and the wine. Sam spent the time trying to get me to accept her apology, but I did hold out; telling her I might one day but that it was too raw and too soon.

When we got up to leave Sam dropped the last bomb on me. "This is another reason for my actions. John, you can be like ice some times. Our marriage will end tomorrow and you're like a statue. No tears, no shouting. I cry myself to sleep every night. Did you really love me?"

"Sam, I loved you more than you'll ever know. But first let's get a couple things straight. A few times tonight you referred to your 'actions', let's call it what it was - you cheated on me Sam, you fucked another man when you were supposed to be faithful, forsaking all others. Second, whether I go home tonight and get drunk or cry is my business. Chances are after our divorce tomorrow you and shithead will be a couple. He's already shown what he thinks of me by fucking my wife, ending my marriage and laughing at me the whole time. If I cry right now or if I told you about my bad nights, you're bound to tell him one day. Then that arrogant prick will have one more laugh at my expense. Don't push it Sam, you don't want to see the demon that lurks just below the surface."

I didn't go to court the next day, my attorney handled it. It was a modern 'no-fault' divorce with an equitable division of property; that day the marriage just ended.

Months passed since the divorce, I used the time to plan. I did get that promotion at work and the great bump in pay, but didn't have anyone or anything to spend it on. I probably spent too much time on the Literotica website after Ron told me about it over drinks one night.

Ron gave me the lowdown on the "Loving Wives" category and said there were hundreds of stories in which the jilted husband got revenge on the ex and her lover. I read the stories, taking notes and ranking my favorite methods for revenge. Ideas that would land me in jail ranked pretty low; psychological terror ranked pretty high. The rankings changed after I had the misfortune of bumping into Jacob one afternoon.

I didn't know it at the time, but following our divorce Jacob and Sam did start dating again and were now engaged. Jacob let me know that: he won, I lost; Sam was a fantastic fuck that he couldn't get enough of; and I must have something wrong with my equipment since Sam was so easy to get in his sack when we were married.

Was I a coward because I turned and walked away? I wasn't afraid of Mr. Blackbelt, but I had just spent two years busting my butt to get that promotion and any physical altercation would flush that half of my life down the drain. The guy had already fucked up my love life, would he get the satisfaction of wrecking my work life, too? I walked away.

My method for payback came to me out of the blue.

It's a funny thing about some guys; they can't help but dip their pen in the company inkwell. Jacob was no exception. Sam wasn't the first woman he dated from their company. One day I received a call from Helen Smith, a woman I had met at one of the company parties. She wanted to meet me for dinner, her treat.

Jacob and Helen were getting serious (she thought) when suddenly he treated her like a disease. Jacob dumped Helen when he decided to pursue my wife. Things heated back up between Jacob and Helen while Sam was fighting our divorce, but immediately turned frosty when the divorce went through and Jacob and Sam became a couple again.

Helen was pissed and hell has no fury like a woman scorned. "How could you let Jacob steal your wife without so much as a whimper? I was at that Holiday party last December and saw the way Jacob acted; I was still in love with Jacob and was hoping you would fight for your wife. You didn't do a thing. Are you clueless or just a wimp?" This dinner invitation was Helen's attempt at giving me some backbone.

I sat back, took a drink of my Wild Turkey and thought how I would answer her challenge.

"Helen, sorry - I don't know you and don't know how much you can be trusted. Trust is in limited quantity at the moment. But I can tell you I am not a wimp and that some day there will be repercussions. Ever hear the saying, Revenge is a dish best served cold?"

Helen looked at me. "Damn, I didn't think; you're Sicilian?"

"That's right. And if you're really interested in some revenge then just sit tight for a while and one day I'll call you and ask for a favor. Nothing illegal, but very important."

I went home that night and my ideas started to gel. But could I trust Helen to keep her mouth shut? I discretely made an inquiry to someone I could trust and he confirmed Helen's story; Helen and Jacob had dated and their breakup coincided with Sam and Jacob's now open relationship. While we talked, my source apologized for having missed the first affair and not giving me a head's up. He graciously offered that the company's senior management was tired of the romantic trauma surrounding Jacob's affairs, were in the process of rewriting the corporate policies regarding work-place romances and that Jacob was rumored to be 'skating on very thin ice'.

During my separation and the two months since the divorce I'd been hiring an escort for my sexual and social release. Sindy Foxx (her professional name I assume) and I would go to dinner or a show every two to three weeks and would end up in bed for a couple hours of sex before she went home. It cost me a bundle, but like I said, I had nowhere else to spend my increased paycheck since my promotion. It was my first time paying for sex, at least directly, but I didn't want to tempt myself with a rebound relationship. So Sindy became my go-to lady whenever the urge hit me. She also became an integral part in my plans.

I called Helen and told her if she was on board she only had two tasks. First, give me Samantha's schedule for when she would be out of town on business. Second, at the right time, approach Jacob and ask him to meet her in a public place to 'get closure'.

Helen called me the next day; Sam was scheduled to be out of town in two weeks for three days and nights. Helen contacted Jacob and arranged to meet him the first night of Sam's trip at the downtown Hyatt lounge, "just for drinks and conversation", but I'm certain Jacob was thinking he might end up with Helen one last time.

Sindy was laughing when I explained the first part of my plan, but I really shocked her when I laid out part two.

"Sindy, do any of the ladies that do what you do ever get a social disease? I'm not talking about any deadly stuff like AIDs, I'm talking about the curable things like the clap."

"Sure, it happens, but it's rare. Most of the girls insist on condoms. There are a couple I know that will bareback, but they try to be careful and they charge double for the privilege. There have been a couple of those girls that had to get the cure."

"Do me a favor, please? Let me know when one of the girls has something to 'contribute'. I'll pay her for the bareback rate and I'll pay you the same as a finder's fee."