How I got revenge on my cheating wife…part 2
The next weekend, after dropping me off, she drove home first and then to one of the hotels/motels in Bwari. She was there all weekend. I called the lover’s home. His wife picked. I asked her about safety precautions on oil rigs. She got excited and pressed me for details. I told her there was an explosion somewhere towards the end. Temporarily sated, she explained a few things to me. Just before I dropped I sent the lover my regards, she mentioned that he had to travel for business. I just smiled.
Every time I ‘went to Lagos’ after that, she went to Bwari. Sometimes, she went straight from the airport. I let it continue uninterrupted, occasionally making early returns so they never got comfortable with using the house for their weekend trysts. Sometimes I would go to their hotel and get the room next to theirs. They always got the same room. They were loud, always. She would scream obscenities and he would grunt like a beast. I would sit in my room with the lights off, listening to them and periodically send her pictures of Lagos.
Then 6 months ago, I told her I wanted us to move to Ghana for a year. She was completely against it but I explained that the second part of the book was set in Ghana and flying back and forth to Lagos was tedious enough. There was nothing tying us to Abuja, nothing she could mention.
I asked her not to worry. I would take care of everything. For the next month, I stayed home every day, and didn’t go to Lagos. I could sense her desperation. I let it grow as the date we set for our relocation drew closer. She sighed audibly when I told her I would be going to Lagos one last time, to return the morning of our trip. We had sold the cars already so I took a taxi straight to Sheraton.
She was in Bwari in under an hour after I left. I made a few phone calls, confirmed the flight booking, cab booking and room booking and faxed over the final documents and awaited the signed copies. Then I called the lover’s wife. I told her I was in a bit of a rut on that explosion and I needed her expertise. I offered to let her read my drafts so she could get a feel of the plot. She offered to come over to the house. I told her I was in Lagos. She was sad, so sad. I told her it was all handwritten so I couldn’t mail it. She apologized for not being able to help, I told her I appreciated her willingness.
The next morning I called her again. I was coming back to Abuja so she could read my manuscript. I really needed her help. She was flattered. I told her I wasn’t going home just yet, I can’t work at home. I was going to check into a small hotel on the outskirts of town, I asked her to hand the phone to her husband so I could explain. He had travelled on business, of course. I asked her to come anyway. I would get her an adjoining room but since her husband wasn’t home, he didn’t need to know, he would tell my wife and she’d be hurt that I came to Abuja and didn’t sleep at home. But I had to work, I needed to get past this explosion. She understood.
She wanted to drive over but I was already in a cab. I picked her up. We checked into our rooms. They were separated only by thin walls, all three rooms. She had the one in the middle. We stepped in her room and I handed her the handwritten manuscript of my unpublished first novel. I wrote it when I was 17 and it showed. Every chapter had a sex scene. She was barely through with the first chapter when the lovers started. They were loud and she blushed. I pretended not to notice.
Between the obscene manuscript and what sounded like honeymooners next door she got aroused in a few minutes. She paused periodically to ask questions and make recommendations. Sometimes just to lick her lips. I lay on the bed, waiting for her to get to my little alteration, the noise of lovemaking next door had subsided.
I knew when she found it. She started breathing hard, she licked her lips a few times. I half expected her to put the manuscript down out of embarrassment but she kept on reading. When I leaned down to whisper in her ear, the words ‘kiss me’ weren’t out of my mouth before she had me pinned to the bed. I put in everything I had, every trick I knew but she wasn’t a squealer. She purred. …
I had her skirt hiked up around her waist, her panties, bra and shirt flung to the far corners of the room, as the head slipped past her lower lips she clutched me. Hard. Harder even than when she had climaxed earlier. I pulled back a bit and repeated the partial entry. Her face was contorted. She said her first words; ‘Fuck Me’ I didn’t. I could hear telltale sounds of fresh lovemaking from the next room. I buried my lips next to her ear.
‘What did you say?’ She repeated herself. I slid an inch forward. Then out again. Who? I asked. Who? When she said my name it sounded better than I could have ever hoped. I slid all the way in and said ‘Louder’. With each thrust her voice rose and every time I pulled back, I repeated myself. It had become a battle of sounds now, they had gotten louder, and I knew they had heard us, I was satisfied. As she came, she gave an extra treat, she screamed my name and surname this time, at the top of her lungs.
Instantly, the lovemaking in the next room ceased, I smiled as she fell asleep with her head on my chest. My wife called. I told her how lonely it was in Lagos and sent a picture of myself in an empty hotel room. There were no sounds from the other room all night.
In the morning, the lover’s wife was distraught. He didn’t deserve her. I had us packed and ready to go then I sent my wife a message, I had just landed and I was in a taxi on the way home and that I hoped she had packed, the flight for Ghana was scheduled to leave at noon. I listened hard. When their door opened, I opened ours and stepped out. He saw me first, and then his wife. I could see all three of them go through the emotions. Self-righteous rage, confusion and then slowly, understanding.
He knew now that it was his wife who had screamed my name and that we had heard them as well. She knew now that I had lied to her and slept with her best friend’s wife and that I had caught her cheating. The lover’s wife only knew that she had been unfaithful and that her husband had been as well. His business trips suddenly made sense.
The one thing none of them knew was that I was not as shocked or outraged as they were. I smiled and pulled the envelope with the divorce papers out of my bag. I handed them to her and walked out. When her lawyer tried to apply for settlement, I told the Court I had nothing. I had donated all our property to a Ghanaian charity. All bank accounts had been cleared out leaving barely enough to survive for 2 weeks. There was nothing to be done, the property wasn’t mine anymore.
When the divorce became final, I raised some money from my friends and found the next flight to Ghana. She was broke and so was her lover. His wife had kicked him out. They could have been broke together but even that was not on the cards. It turned out he preferred his wife, mine was just a good lay. She wouldn’t have him back but he dumped my wife to show her he had changed.
When I arrived at the office of the charity I had set up for this purpose, I presented the second document to its manager. He signed.
I was free and with all of my wealth, minus a cheating wife and 10% of the net worth which went to the Charity. My lawyer had said they could only touch property acquired during our marriage, I sold it all. He said funds in my name would be subject, I gave it all away. When I got it back the marriage had been dissolved, she was not entitled. It was perfectly legal.
I know what you are thinking. I lied to my wife, I stalked her, I involved another innocent woman, led her on for months. Well, not exactly, I did write the book. I documented the discovery, the stalking, the plan and its execution. It hit the shelves a week ago in all my distribution zones and was an instant bestseller in all of them.
I didn’t stab my wife and her lover when I saw them in my pool, that would have been foolish. I waited over a year but I ruined their lives. I bought myself a new home in Maitama, a few cars as well, the success of the new book covered my tracks.
My new home is large and luxurious, I had the pool cemented over the day I moved in, on rough nights I walk out onto my balcony and look at the solid grey slab that used to be filled with clear blue water and then I go back to bed and sleep like a baby
Author, Car enthusiast, President Ice Cream Mile High Club. Bestselling Novel to his credit titled MONITORED.
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