Secrets in Suburbia

by Melody Calder

  I’m surprised to see he got all my favorites. Shrimp egg foo young, sweet and sour pork, dumplings, fried wontons, and egg drop soup. It’s more than enough food to feed an army. I ask him why he got so much.

  “I know we didn’t get to go grocery shopping like we planned, so I wanted to make sure you had some leftovers for lunch tomorrow. A little something more than cake and muffins to tide you over until we can go shopping tomorrow.”

  “That was sweet of you.” More like a guilt gift. All that was missing was the obligatory scheming husband box of chocolates.

  He continues to tell me about his day. The boss’s son had shown the clients the wrong presentation, one they had scrapped in the beginning because it wasn’t what the clients needed. He had to call in his secretary, interrupting her weekend, to run over to his office and grab the correct presentation materials. Then he did a perfect presentation right in the middle of the club dining room.

  The clients were still a bit hesitant. They believed that there was no excuse for incompetence. But after a few of the club members came up to ask for his business card, the clients started warming up to him. “I had to put it in the contract that the louse wouldn’t touch their account. The boss man is not going to be happy about that. I’m not sure that I’m going to get the partnership even with this contract.”

  “Maybe with all the new clients, your boss will overlook it,” I try comforting him. “Or maybe just don’t mention that part until after he makes you partner.” I want to ask him so much more. I want to ask him details about where he went just so that I can put him on the spot. But a part of me is enjoying this normalcy and I can’t bring myself to do it.

  “So how was your day?” he asks, chuckling.

  “Well, I went over to return the dish and basket to the neighbors, got the kitchen set up, and got our clothes all unpacked.”

  He opens his eyes wide, dropping his jaw in mock astonishment, “Don’t tell me you willingly went to Veronica’s!”

  “It’s Victoria,” I correct, “And no, I decided to go to Elena’s first. You remember the one in the blue skirt that seems nicer than the others?” When he nods in response I continued, “She offered to take Victoria’s basket back for me after giving me all the juicy gossip about those three.”

  “Do tell,” He urges.

  I fill him in as we eat our food. It all seems so normal, us chatting and laughing like there’s no big secret hanging over us, threatening to destroy everything we built together. I hate myself a little bit for cherishing this time.

  “Oh, by the way,” I warn him, “Elena informed me that we are required to attend the neighborhood potluck on Saturday.”

  He rolls his eyes, “Required? Just what kind of place did you move us to?”

  “Seriously, they should require all neighbors of homes for sale to fill out applications so that the buyers know what they are getting themselves into,” I laugh. “Besides, I seem to remember someone drooling over the deck talking about how perfect it would be to grill on while you watch me skinny dip, so you can’t put all the blame on me.”

  “Touché.” He chuckles, “I suppose we should show up. I wouldn’t want to make a bad impression. You never know when we might need to borrow tools from the neighbors. I’d hate to be blacklisted from the borrowing list.”

  I giggle and then stifle a yawn. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. We have a really comfy bed waiting for us, and someone owes me something more than Chinese food.” It’s been such an emotional day. Right now, it doesn’t matter that my husband has probably betrayed me. I just want one night to feel some sort of connection before everything falls apart.

  As I gather up the leftovers, I feel Rich’s eyes on me. Wearing only a thin white tank top and black lace boy shorts, I make my way to the fridge. Bending low, making sure my tight ass is on full display, I put the leftovers on the bottom shelf and look over my shoulder. Rich is staring at me with heat in his eyes. I take my time, knowing the cool air of the fridge will make my nipples hard and show through my top, something I know he loves.

  I saunter over to Rich, swaying my hips. His eyes sharpen on my hard nipples. Drawing nearer, I slowly slide my shirt up, showing my toned abs and giving him a peek of the bottom of my breasts. When I’m just out of his reach, I pull my top over my head and drop it on the floor. His breath hitches as I rub my breasts and pinch my nipples, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from myself.

  When his eyes darken, I move closer. Straddling his lap, I grind on him slowly, soaking my panties. “You play dirty,” his voice husky as he moves to pull me into a kiss.

  Passionately, our mouths lock. He pulls back and sucks my bottom lip, lightly scraping his teeth against it. Desperate for more, I push our mouths back together, tongues entangling, becoming one. I moan into his mouth as his hands roughly squeeze my ass, pulling me to rock harder against his shaft.

  Rich breaks the kiss again and I mewl in protest, only to suck in a breath as he lightly bites my taut nipple. His tongue circles it lightly before he nips at it again, harder this time. “Mmm Rich, yes!” I exclaim as he moves to suck my other nipple.

  Without warning, Rich lifts me up, spinning me around, and sets me firmly on top of the island. “I do owe you a gift,” he winks as he gently pushes me back so that I am leaning on my elbows, my legs dangling from the counter.

  He kisses my stomach, using his tongue to lick and kiss my body, following the path of my panties that he is now gliding down my legs. Rich reaches my core, but blows a hot breath, not giving me the touch I crave. Instead, he moves his mouth to my inner thigh. Trailing kisses down the sensitive part of my leg, so tortuously close to my mound where I really want his mouth. He finishes sliding my panties down, inch by agonizing inch, until they flutter to the floor. Placing my foot on his shoulder, he moves to my other leg, making me whimper in pleasure and frustration. Starting at the ankle, he licks up my inner leg, laying it to rest on his other shoulder as he moves up further and further.

  I let out a deep moan as his mouth connects with my clit. He swirls his tongue up and down my folds, moving back to my clit and then down again. When he moves back up, my body thrums with the excitement of the sensation of his teeth lightly nipping my nub. He plays my pussy like a master, licking hard and biting lightly in just the right way.

  Tremors pass through my body as he slides his finger into my soaked entrance. “Oh fuck,” I moan, “that feels so good baby.” He slides another finger in, curling it up to reach the spot that gives me intense pleasure.

  “More baby, give me more,” My body starts to thrash as I get close to release. “Fuck me harder with those fingers.” My body shakes as I scream out my orgasm, my core pulsating with pleasure.

  Rich yanks off his pants and pulls my still pulsing core to his waiting cock. He glides in smoothly. We both cry out in pleasure. I lift my hips slightly matching his strokes as he pounds into me.

  “Let me ride you,” I demand, nudging his hips.

  He pulls out of me and climbs up on the counter. I straddle him, ignoring the discomfort of the hard counter pressing into my knees. I sink down on his cock. Fuck, it feels so good. I find my rhythm, gliding up and down. He thrusts his hip upwards so that I feel the friction from his pelvic bone slapping against my clit. My breasts are bouncing as I increase my pace, slamming down on his cock over and over.

  “Fuck baby, I can’t hold on much longer,”

  “I want you to cum in my pussy,” I demand, feeling my control slipping.

  He roars as I feel his cum spurting into me. I let go, crying out as a second orgasm rips through my body. I collapse on his chest, breathing hard. “I love you Rich,” I whisper, holding back the tears that threaten to spill.

  Chapter 7

  Monday afternoon, I finally finish up my work. I grab a beer to relax, which is sorely needed after the last collection call of the day. I really hate making the collection calls. It’s actually very rare that I do. I’m in charge of information collection a
nd typically pass the information on to my assigned collection caller. She had to leave the office early for an appointment and begged me to help her reach her call quota. “It’s just one easy call,” she said.

  We get along well enough, so I agreed to help her out. That ‘one easy call’ certainly was not easy. It was a medical collection for an elderly gentleman who is still very ill. The poor man was confused, thinking I was from the hospital and could help him. He listed off his every ache and pain, making me feel absolutely horrible. I tried several times to interrupt him, to no avail. I figured out after a while that he is very hard of hearing. Needless to say, I didn’t get any payment agreement. I did advise him, shouting very loudly, that he needs to call his doctor to discuss his pain management. He got angry asking what kind of nurse was I that I couldn’t just tell the doctor myself. I remembered quickly why I don’t do collection calls; I hate getting yelled at.

  I can finally start on what I’m now calling Operation Swetty Dick. I think it has a better ring to it. And let’s be honest, I’m in a state of denial at the moment. Last night was amazing. I struggle to accept that the man from last night would have any reason to be with another woman. Or that he could be with another woman and then come home and fuck me. It just doesn’t make sense. But the logical part of me knows that I must do my due diligence in finding out the truth.

  I pull up the file and start to do a search for the addresses in the radius of his phone location. I use a real estate website to pull up a nearby address to narrow down my search. Using that as a base, I’m able to figure out the house numbers. I type them all out in order, then move on to the phone number list that I pulled from Rich’s phone.

  My plan is to get the names of each person on the phone number list first. Then I can cross out any names that I recognize and am sure would not be involved, like old college buddies or Japanese businessmen. That will narrow down my search a little bit. Then I will look up the owners of the homes in the target area and see if any names match. I also need to do a property record search to see if any of the homes are occupied by renters. If that happens, I’m not positive that I will be able to get the names of any renters. I hope that luck is on my side on that one.

  Since I’m sure that he deleted at least the one phone call in the middle of the night, I log onto our cell phone account and copy his call log onto a spreadsheet. Unfortunately, their system is behind a few days and I can’t pull up the log list from the other night. It’s going to be a long process anyway, so I can wait the few days it takes for their computer system to update the call log.

  My alarm beeps, alerting me to the fact that Rich will be home soon. I’m glad I did because I was so engrossed in my work that I didn’t realize how many hours had passed. That’s pretty typical for me; hence the alarms. I save all my work and clear out my browser history. Rich doesn’t usually touch my work computer, but I don’t know what to expect from him anymore. I’ve put everything away just as Rich pulls up in his car.

  ∞∞∞

  Thursday is my day off. I start Operation Swetty Dick as soon as I hear Rich’s car leave. I’ve finally narrowed my search down to one number. The updated call log is finally live and I verify that it is the same phone number that he called at one forty-five AM on Sunday morning. I transfer the call log to my spreadsheet and open up a search for the number.

  “Fuck!” I scream as the search shows months of calls to this number multiple times a week. Some of the calls are in the middle of the night, which is bothersome enough, but one date in particular breaks my heart.

  Call Log: June 5th, eleven fifty-seven PM

  Unable to hold it in any longer, my body is wracked with sobs. Tears stream down my face as memories of that day come to the surface.

  “Rich, can you get away early today?” I ask excitedly.

  “Of course. I planned on it anyway since this is a special day,” he agrees, questioning clear in his voice. “Isn’t the man supposed to do the anniversary planning?” he teases.

  “No it’s not that. I mean, yes, I figured you would be planning dinner or something spectacular, but I got a call from the realtor and he wants to show us a house.” Barely containing my excitement, “He sent me an email of the listing and it is the house I’ve been dreaming of! It’s in the perfect neighborhood. It’s only forty-five minutes from your office and the price is phenomenal!”

  He remains quiet on the phone, so I try another plea, “What better way to start our anniversary celebration than looking at what could be the perfect home to start our family in?”

  Rich snorts, “For someone whose job it is to get detailed information, you certainly missed an important piece. The realtor sent us both the email. I already called him and set up the showing for 2:30 this afternoon.”

  “Oh my god! Really?” I whooped in happiness. “Wait. You made me practically beg when you already set it up? You ass!”

  “Ah, but I’m an extremely lovable ass,” he teased before hanging up.

  The house was gorgeous. We both fell in love with every detail. We planned out where my office would be, what rooms would be for our future children, and even talked about the furniture we would buy to make the place our sanctuary. We put in an offer before we left to go out to dinner.

  For dinner, Rich brought me to the restaurant at the Brookhaven Country Club, where he had a membership as a perk of his job. It was one of my favorite places to dine. Rich told the waiter to keep the wine flowing for me. Halfway through the dinner, his cell phone rang. He excused himself to answer it, something I was used to due to his position at work.

  His mouth was upturned in a wide smile when he came back to the table a few minutes later. “They accepted our offer!” he exclaimed.

  Forgetting decorum, I jumped up into his arms and planted a kiss on his mouth. Happy tears leaked from my eyes. “This is the best anniversary gift ever!”

  We celebrated with a few more drinks. Well, quite a few more drinks. By the time he was ready to leave, I was unable to walk straight. He drove us home, gave me an aspirin, and put me to bed.

  Rich called this number on our anniversary while I was passed out from celebrating our big moment. How could he? Anger thrummed through my body. Replacing the tears with determination, I opened up my browser and ran a search on the number.

  After what seemed like hours, the name finally popped up.

  Ding Dong

  “Seriously?” I groaned, “Could the timing be any worse?” I check myself in the mirror before opening the door. My eyes were a little red and puffy, but not too bad.

  “Rachel?”

  “Good afternoon, Samantha.” Rachel greeted. “I know Elena told you about the potluck I’m hosting on Saturday. Since this is your first time, I brought over a list of acceptable dishes that you may choose from. ”

  “Um, thanks?”

  “I wouldn’t want your debut to be embarrassing.” Taking my appearance in, she couldn’t hide the patronizing lilt to her voice. “I assume you can cook a simple dish.”

  I take the list and look it over. I’m a bit offended that all the suggested dishes are simple and bland. I would assume that bringing something off this list would be cause me a great deal of embarrassment. Was that her plan? “I do cook very well. It’s actually a hobby of mine. Especially desserts.”

  “Oh? Do you have a signature dish? Everyone is this community has at least one signature dish that is brought to every function. We found that it saves us the trouble of having too much of one taste palate,” she explains.

  I admit to myself, that is actually a good idea. If it weren’t for the uppity attitude, I would give her a lot more credit for being great at organizing events.

  “I do make a delicious summer dessert I call a fruit pizza. It has a graham cracker crust, strawberry glaze, and a mixture of summer fruits on top,” I answer. “It is the perfect mix of healthy and delicious.”

  Rachel smirks, “That sounds perfect. Set up begins at four-thirty PM. Don’t be tardy.” an
d with that she turns and leaves without another word.

  Chapter 8

  Lydia Gilbertson. Her face looks back at me from the computer screen. After I found her name, I stalked her social media all morning. She’s not ugly, but certainly not a supermodel. I know it’s catty, but I convince myself that it would make me feel a little bit better if she were drop dead gorgeous. In reality, I don’t think anything would make me feel better.

  Her profile says she’s married to a man named Todd. I flip through her recent pictures and see plenty of the two of them together smiling adoringly at one another. I click to his page and find the same. Todd and I have something in common; our spouses are lying cheats.

  I wonder if he knows yet. Or if he’s suspicious at all. I think about calling him, but quickly put that idea out of my head when I imagine the conversation. I can’t ruin another marriage based on a partially overheard conversation and a location ping. I need to get more proof.

  I go back to Lydia’s profile and continue clicking through her likes, groups, and check-ins. I’m searching for something that will show me how they know each other. In another window, I open up the new location mapping app that I had put on Rich’s phone earlier in the week. It’s one made for parents to track their children’s movements, perfect for what I need.

  Comparing the two, I find a match. Lydia had checked into a hotel restaurant in Atlanta on Tuesday. The same day, Rich’s cell phone was in the same general location. I wonder if they were eating lunch together or visiting the hotel rooms.

  A series of emotions overwhelm me as I take in this new information. I’m livid! Angry tears fall and I throw my coffee cup across the room, bellowing “Dick!” The cup hits the wall and shatters into pieces, taking my resolve with it. I crumple to the floor. Curling myself into a ball, I weep, despair overtaking the anger.