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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1643448-The-Challenges-Men-Bring
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Drama · #1643448
A short story about a wife's reaction when she catches her husband cheating.
I wrote this story in college, which is why it isn't longer because we had a required min/max on page amount. Enjoy!





The Challenges Men Bring

         There was hair everywhere. Black, white, red, and grey strands of light, wispy hair were molded, stuck or drifting across the house in masses. The plump, cheery woman across from me gestured for me to sit down on what I figured to be the couch after critical examination. My hand collected a patch of hair and disposed of it on the floor, blessing my eyes with the first sight of a cushion the color of stale caramel. For a brief instant I pictured myself ripping my highlighted blonde hair from my head and distributing it around the house in order to add it to the collection but after recognizing the idea as an insane one, I quickly refused. Three hours ago I would’ve never had the urge to tear my hair out, but, of course, three hours ago I hadn’t witnessed my husband screwing his boss’s wife in our bed.

         “What gender do you prefer?” the woman said politely. I recalled her telling me her name was Jeanie or Jennifer or something like that and that she didn’t resemble her name at all. I thought she looked more like a Catherine with a C, myself. Her longer steel, grey hair and lack of glasses had me convinced, although maybe I was confusing Catherine with someone who owned many cats or that could have something to do with the fact that Catherine begins with c-a-t.

         “We have four healthy boys and two very sweet girls,” Catherine said when I failed to answer her. “Would you like to see them?”

         I nodded knowing that as much as I despised men right now, I couldn’t stand the thought of having another bitch in the house. Catherine disappeared for a moment and before she returned, six rambunctious Alaskan Malamute puppies stormed the living room. They lapped at my feet and wagged their tails with vigorous intent on cheering me up. I adored puppies, especially this breed, but I couldn’t smile for their bright faces.

         Catherine entered the room with a plate of sugar cookies dusted with dog hair and offered me one. “No thanks,” I murmured while my hands automatically petted the delightful pups. Scott had never liked the breed. About a year ago I’d shown him a picture of a proud Malamute male standing outside in a show ring waiting to be judged. Scott had spared the picture a mere glance before waving it off and muttering, “too big” and “look at all that hair; it’ll never stop shedding!”. His idea of the perfect dog was a Miniature Pinscher because its shedding capabilities were limited, and it looked like the bigger version, although they were completely unrelated. The day Scott brought Rex home she ripped into my hand with her diminutive razor-like teeth, initiating our dislike for one another. My hate toward her only escalated when I spotted her sleeping on the floor at the end of the bed that Scott’s boss’s wife had been clawing at in pleasure. It was as if Rex had given Daddy permission to fuck outside the pack because any alpha female was better than me.

         My research on Malamutes told me that they often went after small dogs or cats because of their strong prey instincts. Imagining Rex’s flailing body sandwiched between my Malamute’s jaws impelled me to ask, “Do you have any dogs for sale? I’m looking for an adult so I don’t have to train it.” A lie, of course.

         Catherine’s lips puckered in contemplation. “Well, the parents are for sale seeing how this is Minnie’s last litter and I am going to start breeding Yorkshire Terriers.”

         “May I see the male?”



         Forty-five minutes later my SUV was licking up the pavement as I headed back home to reclaim my territory with a one-hundred-and-ten-pound Malamute male named Diesel in the backseat ready to assault the enemy with his tongue. An unusual sense of cold serenity settled over me that I speculated to be a mixture of shock and denial. Gut-wrenching pictures of Scott and his lover grinding their hips in ecstasy failed to boil the blood in my veins. Instead, every flash of their pale, naked flesh only added to my calmness until I had goose bumps running up and down my arms. Contemplation of their punishment fed from those images and I suddenly couldn’t wait to get home. Especially, with the remaining picture of his boss’s wife’s face contorting into terror when she spotted me standing in the doorframe of the bedroom. At the time, I was too shocked to be angry. Now, I was so angry it rendered me calm.  Every muscle in my body cramped, tense, alert, poised for battle as their guilty expressions continuously smothered my mind. Scott’s haunted me the most with his look of utter disdain as if he’d been annoyed that I had spoiled everything, yet at the same time seized with fear of what was to follow since he clearly hadn’t thought that far ahead.

         It was about two o’clock when I steered the vehicle into the driveway. Scott was outside on the front stoop arguing as passionately with his lover as he had had sex with her. The woman’s back was to me but I saw that she was shoeless, clothed in a crooked black pencil skirt and wore a clashing blue t-shirt of Scott’s that had been messily tucked in. Her rounded shoulders and heaving back told me she was sobbing as hard as she was quarreling, and as I watched her fall apart all I could think was why her? I’d met the woman just once at a dinner party that Scott’s boss had set up for his favored employees and not had viewed her as a threat. She was at least ten years older than me, weighed considerably more and had bored me with a description of her garden at her vacation home in Florida when we’d chatted briefly at dinner. This was a lesson learned: for some men all it took was the sport of capturing the prize. Screwing the boss’s wife was a prize, no matter who she was or what she looked like. I hadn’t figured Scott to stoop so low. He never did stop surprising me.

         I noticed her black pumps were held tight in her arms as she stepped aside for Scott to amble down the sidewalk and approach me. I hoped he did it in utter shame. I rolled down my window and the window behind mine so that the new man in my life could meet the old one. Scott leapt back as Diesel thrust his head out the window and released an eager bark.

         “Jesus, Chloe! What is that thing?” he said.

         Now I smiled. “My guard dog.” If Scott had done his research, which I knew for a fact that he didn’t, he would know that Malamutes would rather show a stranger your treasures than guard them. They do, however, make great intimidators.

         “Is that where you’ve been all morning?” he asked. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back. We need to talk. Please. I need to explain myself.”

         “It looks like you’ve been having enough of that without me, Scott,” I said. Scott wrung his hands together where he stood a safe distance from the car without turning back to look at his mistress. “We’ve been fighting since you left. I told her it’s over. I’m telling you it’s over. It was just a once time mistake. Please, understand I never meant to hurt you. We were drun-”

         “How nice.” I climbed out of the SUV and for a moment had an inclination to kick my husband in the balls, but then if I did that I would miss the expression on his face when I let all one-hundred-and-ten-pounds of dog out of the backseat.

         “You’re not letting that thing out of the car are you? Just wait a minute. I need you to listen to me.”

         I swung open the door, freeing Diesel who leapt down and trotted toward Scott with interest. Scott ducked behind the rhododendron bushes, which wasn’t an easy feat, before I grabbed the leash and steered the dog away from him. After all, licking Scott to death would not only reveal his lack of aggression but would hardly be the proper punishment for a cheater.

         Scott’s mistress didn’t dare make eye contact as I blew past her, entered the house and slammed the front door shut. As soon as I let my Malamute off his leash, Rex came tearing around the corner in an effort to ward me off with her tremendously irritating bark. The last time I ever saw Rex as when her overweight rump was squeezing through the doggy door to escape Diesel’s hot pursuit.

         I didn’t know if it was witnessing my dog drive off another, or the fact that my husband, who today had slept with another woman, was reentering the house but it suddenly struck me: nothing was ever going to be the same. My Malamute wrestled with him in the door for a few minutes before he got bored of what he thought was a game and trotted off to investigate his new territory.

         Scott leaned against the door, his ruffled brown locks plastered to his forehead from perspiration. Part of the reason I fell in love with Scott was because he had hair I could run my fingers through. Now that hair brought images of another woman gripping the strands the way I use to and spoiled it. Everything about Scott, his lengthy, muscular thighs to his washboard stomach was spoiled from the touch of another woman. Every precious word from his mouth had been uttered to another woman and would never mean the same to me.

         “She’s gone. Her cab showed up,” he said, then after a moments pause, “Chloe, can we please talk about this?”

         I shook my head. “I can’t believe you had sex with that woman in our bed. You had sex with your boss’s wife in our bed!”

         Scott brushed parts of his hair from his pleading eyes. Gone was the look of disdain, replaced by utter desperation. He knew what he’d done and what that meant to him. Too bad he hadn’t thought about that before he fucked her. “I know what I did was wrong. It was the worst. We had too much to drink and it just happened. It was only one time, and I’m telling you I feel nothing for her. I’m so sorry, Chloe. I know I messed up, but I love you. Please-”

         “Shut up,” I interrupted. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to listen to you. You’re disgusting and I want you to leave. Now.”

         He opened his mouth as if to ague but then thought better of it. “Are you sure?”

         “You can get your things tomorrow.”

         Scott left reluctantly with Rex as his only possession. I figured he was probably heading to his brother’s loft but in all actuality I didn’t care. When I entered the family room Diesel had positioned himself on his back with all four legs straight in the air and his head titled to one side with his tongue hanging out. His brown eyes seemed to say, “This is a nice place. They deserved to go.” I agreed except for the small detail of the bedroom. I craned my neck so I could peer up the staircase and after one flash of inappropriate play crossed my mind I decided I needed a drink, a bag of pretzels and my best friend, Anna.



         “That prick!” she said over the phone after I had given her the update on the day’s drama. I held the receiver with my shoulder as I sought another handful of pretzels in one hand and with the other downed the fourth glass of Merlot.

         “I’ve decided I’m going to burn the sheets,” I declared.

         “What?”

         “I’m going to burn the sheets. And the mattress. All of it.”

         Anna’s voice lowered. “Chloe, how much have you drank?”

         “Enough to believe that lighting the furniture on fire is an absolutely great idea,” I said. Diesel stood wagging his tail as his eyes settled on my hands that cupped the pretzels. I made a face at him, which he responded to by bumping the bag with his muzzle and snatching the pieces that fell to the floor.

         I could hear Anna’s laughter in the background. “I don’t blame you,” she said, “but I think you’d be better off with a man than trying to burn your house down.”

         “Men are jerks.”

         “Not all men,” Anna argued. “It’s just when you want to keep them, now that’s a problem. That’s when they always disappoint.” Anna was twenty-eight years old and happily unmarried.  When we met at college, she was swearing off men as much as she was sleeping with them. The first time I saw her was late one morning at Ian McNeil’s house. I had gone over to retrieve class notes from his roommate and while I was waiting, Anna was dressed in a low skirt, high boots and revealing top from the previous night poking at her scrambled eggs as it unsure of whether or not they would bite her. I’d never once had a meal cooked for me by a significant other but Anna was the type of woman who sparked the interest in any man. I wished I could be so lucky while Anna sat there with a sour face as Ian proudly served sausage links off the skillet. It was the first time Anna had stayed until morning after a night in a man’s bed and it would be the last. “Aren’t you in my history class?” she’d asked me with a bright smile. I’d been caught off guard by her sudden remark and it took me a moment to reply.

         “Yes.” I lied as Ian’s roommate offered me his notes. I wasn’t normally a liar because I never took to it well, but Anna’s pleading face willed me to do it, which would happen more and more in the future.

         Ian was instantly pushed aside as Anna hooked her arm in mine. “Let’s get out of here then. I’m starving.”

         We’d been close ever since although I never had to rescue her from an awkward one-night stand again. I didn’t idolize Anna for her sleeping habits, but I did for her lack of feelings for men. She could pick them up and leave them without ever getting caught up in love. The one time I brought up her relationship habits with men, Anna muttered something about a four-year relationship in high school that changed her mind about the opposite sex, but I can’t say I believed her.

         I offered a handful of pretzels to Diesel and slid onto the floor next to him in despair. “You never liked Scott did you?”

         “Don’t be silly, Chloe. I adored the man. It was the only time I was jealous of any of the relationships you had.” Although I never became a great liar, Anna had perfected it to the point that it was like a second language to her.

         “Thank you,” I said. “Boy were we wrong about him.”

         “Yes, this is precisely why you should forget about burning those sheets and get yourself a man. Come on, I know you. I know you can’t face going upstairs right now let alone get close enough to the bed with a match,” Anna chided. “Come out with me tonight.”

         I swooshed the scarlet liquid in my glass and licked the rim. “I can’t.”

         “Why not?”

         “I bought a dog.”

         “I’m pretty sure dogs can be left alone for a couple of hours.”

         “Not this one. This one needs me.”

         Anna clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I can’t leave you alone after you said that. I’m coming over and I’m bringing dates. Put your wine away and go take a shower.”

         “How did you know I was drinking wine?” I said.

         “Chloe, you’re so predictable,” she answered with a laugh and hung up. I tossed the phone on the closest chair and contemplated being predictable all the way down into the finished basement until I was in the shower.

         After thirty minutes of convincing, still wrapped up in a towel, I managed to not only climb the staircase but made it to the bedroom where I stood gazing in and biting my lower lip in skepticism. In order to get to my closet and the bathroom I needed to move around the bed, a feat I wasn’t willing to accomplish just yet.

         Diesel nudged me aside and trotted into the bedroom with a negligence that I envied. He plopped down on the bed, wrestled with a mouthful of sheets and smiled at me. Here I was letting the bedroom get to me when earlier today I’d waltzed right by the woman responsible for my ruined marriage. That didn’t make sense, but lately my life didn’t either. I took a deep breath, marched straight into the bathroom and vomited in the sink. I guess I wasn’t as strong as I thought.

         

         The doorbell rang while I was deciding whether or not to wear shoes. Most of the alcohol had worn off but I didn’t underestimate myself when I was tipsy so I gathered my dress and headed downstairs in my bare feet.

         For a moment I reflected on what it was I was doing when I neared the bottom of the stairs. Anna and I were very different when it came to relationships with men so what made me believe her solution would work best for me? I steadied my gaze on my hand as it smoothed out my dress. I wanted tonight to ease the pain. I wanted Anna to bring me a release from the nightmare that occurred earlier and, although I would probably ignore the man she brought for me, I’d at least be surrounded by people whose day had been somewhat normal. Maybe delightful even. When the doorbell rang again, I didn’t hesitate, and opened the door.

         “Hello, you must be Chloe.” A single man stood on the porch with a timid smile, one hand cocked efficiently in his pocket while the other was poised in midair away from his body to initiate a handshake. I ignored his hand as my eyes danced from his ebony, spiked hair to his green eyes that flickered in subtle annoyance due to my lack of friendly exchange. Again, I ignored his reaction partly because I was tipsy but mostly because I was getting to the good stuff. Although this man was handsome, his body outdid his facial features with it oozing sexuality through every inch of solid, ripped strength. He had a narrow waist but everything else was pure muscle from his thick arms, wide back, and, I guessed because they were hidden beneath his jeans, rugged thighs. The wind toyed with the man’s t-shirt; thrusting it every few seconds against his chest so hard that the definition of his abs were abundantly clear and my mouth went dry. Anna had sent me a man that could swallow me whole if he enveloped me in an embrace unlike the tall leanness of Scott who matched this guy’s height but not his yummy width.

         I forced myself to blink a couple of times and bit my lip hard enough to stop me from staring at the stranger. “I’m sorry,” I said and took his hand that had been sinking back to his side. “I’ve been drinking.”

         Did I just say that?

         The man laughed. “That’s fine by me. I’m Adam by the way.”

         I inwardly cursed myself for blurting such a stupid thing and thought, oh great, Anna’s sent me a drunk. “Nice to meet you, Adam. Where are Anna and her date?”

         “She said she was going to be late. That’s not a problem is it?” Adam smiled, expecting a no, which is exactly what he heard. I shut the door behind him imagining horrible curse words to throw at Anna as he strolled into the foyer. “You look great,” he said when I faced him.

         “Thank you, same to you.” I meant it too, although I did feel slightly overdressed in a radiant short pink dress that complimented my blonde hair. “Would you like a drink?”

         “I’d love one.”

         I led the way into the kitchen, Adam trailing behind me as he soaked up the innards of the house with his eyes. I poured us two drinks, which he thanked me for as I handed him his and swirled it once before sipping. I found it odd that such a small act could look so natural on a large man and while I was pondering how his body worked elsewhere, Adam said, “I hope you don’t mind that you’re friends aren’t here.”

         I shook my head. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be us that’s all.”

         “I understand.”

         This was bad. This wasn’t what the night was supposed to be like. I was supposed to be bustling about the kitchen serving drinks to the three guests while instantaneously ignoring my date so that the uncomfortable feeling of being with another man subsided. After all, I was still a married woman, and this morning I had been happily married and glad to sacrifice the urge to check out other men, let alone sleep with them. It didn’t matter to my subconscious that Scott had not just checked out other woman, but had checked in as well. His lack of dignity should have given my subconscious permission to allow me to do whatever the hell I wanted with men. The fact that it didn’t just proved how screwed up I was.

         “Do you have a dog?” Adam asked. I followed his finger pointing to the cereal bowls that held water in one and Rex’s dog food in the other.

         “Yes,” I said matter-of-factly. “He’s outside right now.”

         Adam gave me his glass so I could refill it. “What breed is he? I love dogs. I have a boxer, myself.”

         I poured more liquor into my glass before handing his back and taking a swig of mine. “I’ve heard great things about boxers. He’s an Alaskan Malamute.”

         “Sled dog, right?”

         “Yes.”

         “Those are good-looking dogs. What’s his name?”

         I almost choked on the liquid sliding past my tongue at the thought of my escalating desires. My eyes swiveled back and forth for a second or two then without pause I said, “Do you wanna have sex?”

         Adam’s face fell and it was the first time I witnessed him lose composure. His chest tightened and his gaze willed mine to betray my statement as being humorous. I simply met his stare and appeared innocent like I’d just asked him what kind of car he drove. He finally had to ask, “Are you serious?”

         My glass kissed the counter with a loud rattle as I set it down. I must’ve been drunker than I thought. It didn’t matter. My subconscious had been beaten into submission by alcohol and I wanted nothing more than to experience what it felt to be in that man’s arms. “I know Anna and she’s not coming over. We’re alone. You look amazing, and you told me I do too.”

         Adam’s lips widened into a devilish grin. “You do look great. I didn’t lie about that, but are you sure you want to do this?”

         “Stop asking stupid questions and take that damn shirt off before I rip it off myself.”

         He chuckled at that and slid his beverage across the granite top. On the way upstairs his shirt was nowhere to be seen and my dress was quickly losing its grip on my body. By the time we reached the guest bedroom, Adam had regained his composure and his cockiness had enveloped me twice on the stairs and once against the bathroom sink. I was having doubts about Adam when we tumbled on the guest bed at last but he continued to impress me twice more before we ended up passing out at four a.m.



         Someone was calling me.

         My eyelids peeled back slowly and the feeling of being crushed intensified as my stiff limbs succumbed to pain. I settled my gaze on a tan, brawny arm that was resting across my chest before refocusing past the arm to the muscular thigh draped over my lower half, the remainder of my body hidden beneath a narrow torso, rotated just enough that I could see his outlining abs and allow me room to breathe. A steady rhythm of air was being inhaled and exhaled against my hair through the lips of a stranger above me.

         “Chloe.”

          I turned my head to see the person who had been saying my name. “Scott?” The nearness of sleep had stifled my senses but now everything about yesterday came back to me in one foul swoop, bolting me upright and knocking Adam from his possessive position, and waking him in the process. “Scott! What are you doing here?” I clawed at the comforter in an effort to conceal my nudity but I’d been so exhausted after sex last night I’d passed out on top of the sheets instead of underneath.

         “Imagine my surprise when I come back to the house to talk to you and I find you in bed with him. A fucking stranger,” he seethed. “Did you have fun last night?”

         I’d given up trying to hide my body and lifted my chin in defiance. “Actually I had a great time last night considering he was the best I’ve ever been with.” By now Adam had roused himself enough out of sleep to be aware of what was going on. I guessed Adam would react nervously to Scott’s presence but instead it was the other way around. I suppose the fact that Adam could send Scott to the hospital with one punch persuaded Scott to avoid confronting the other man. Adam flaunted his dominant status to my husband by jerking my body against his with his talented hands and plating scorching kisses along my throat and collarbone. I didn’t feel the need to stop him.

         “Is that so, Chloe? Well, I’m happy for you. Really.” His tone ended on a sardonic note, his eyes never wavering from Adam’s keen attention towards me. “I’m leaving. I’ll send you the divorce papers once I talk to my lawyer.”

         I grinned. “I can’t wait.”

         I never really thought Anna’s lifestyle could work so well for me. We had always been different when it came to men and yet her view on the matter of my marriage helped shut it down faster than anything else could’ve done. Watching my ex-husband leave after witnessing his disgraceful act with another woman only reiterated that fact. That’s not to say I didn’t cry over the loss of my husband, but it helped doing it in the arms of an extremely good-looking man.

© Copyright 2010 kimberlyelizabeth (kimberlymu23 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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