Marge was sitting at the small table, looking out the window and wringing her hands together. Her eyes were moist; not full of tears, not yet, but right on the verge. When she heard me enter, though, the first one slid down her cheek. “Charlie, baby. We need to talk.” That phrase never presaged a happy conversation. Everyone, man or woman, married or single, knows that. I knew it better than most. Sitting down in the chai...

“You could have stayed.” “You were fucking another guy!” Kelly regarded me coolly. “No, I fucked another guy. I shouldn’t have. I confessed, and I apologized. I begged you to stay and go to counseling so our family could stay together. What I did was wrong, unequivocally, and I was sorry I ever did it. Am sorry.” She looked away. “Will never stop being sorry.” “Yeah, you were so sorry that you did it for months, and then...

Tae laughed. “Come on, Cora. That’s not true. You’re a decent business manager. And you’ve made a fine nanny for our son.” Then she tilted Cora’s head up to look at her. “But there is something else that I do need from you, bitch.” Cora’s brows furrowed; what else could she take? Tae had her husband. She had her child. She had her devotion and her submission. My wife was broken; but just because something’s broken doesn’t...

As I opened the door to my office, the couple inside were still wiping tears away. The tears were happy ones, thankfully; their fertility problems hadn’t been insurmountable. They were going to be proud parents in eight months, if everything went according to plan. The outcomes weren’t always so joyous, but these were the moments that I loved, the ones that made all my time in medical school worthwhile. My wife was sittin...

As a rule, I didn’t mess with married women. Well, the ones wearing their rings, that is, the ones that were obviously married and didn’t even try to hide it. If a woman is in a hotel bar with her ring on, one of four things is probably going on: she wants to have a drink in peace; she’s waiting for her husband, either to go somewhere else or as part of some weird sex game I don’t want to be involved in; she’s too dumb to...

To His Wife: You came very close to losing your husband last weekend. He could have been mine—no, he was mine. Mine for the taking. And the only reason that he’s still yours is because I chose to love him more than I loved myself. My love saved your marriage. He’s so handsome, your husband. I noticed as soon as I started working with him. Older than me, but not so much older that people would do more than whisper. There’s...

I woke to the sound of water running. A shower. Mid-morning sunlight shone through the window and onto the empty spot in my bed. Bonnie had woken before me; odd for a Saturday, but not entirely unexpected. She crashed almost as soon as we got home, while I lay awake thinking about her immediate slumber. That, and a slew of other indicators that made me wonder how solid my marriage was. It’s not that I suspected Bonnie of...

While our lips were otherwise engaged, Jess’s fingers had begun to tug at my clothes. I awkwardly stood, still locked at the lips, and helped her hands along. As my shorts and underwear slid down, she finally broke away with a gasp, then a giggle; not exactly the reaction a guy is hoping for. I gave her a look, but she wasn’t paying attention to my face anymore. Another little giggle slipped from her lips; she finally rea...

The last Friday of the last summer break of my undergraduate degree and where was I? Backpacking through Europe? Hanging out with friends? Earning a little extra cash? No. I was running wind sprints in an almost empty recreation center. And why? Because my dad is an asshole, and I’m an idiot. “Gabe! You should come visit this summer! We’ll finally get to spend some time together.” I should have known better. From the day...

Dee and I showered separately after she finished crying, then ate. Dinner was quiet; not an uncomfortable silence exactly, but a sort of mournful one. My wife knew now how much she’d hurt me, and I knew--or maybe just could finally admit to myself--that she’d have to keep on hurting me for a while. I hated it. I wanted it, in a strange way, but I hated it. Most of all, though, I loved her, and I knew that the only way for...

How much did I really need to dust? Ugh, I knew already. I needed to dust enough so that Dee would be happy. That’s what this was all for, after all. So that Dee would be happy. She was out shopping, buying a new outfit for our guest. No, for her guest. For my nemesis. Rod. An apt name for a bull with a nearly ten-inch cock. She’d been seeing Rod for a couple of months now. He was her first bull, the first guy that she’d...

Sharon cries, “Please, Mike! I don’t want a divorce!” I shake my head in disbelief. “You fucked three other guys!” She reaches for me, but I flinch away. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. But money’s been really tight since I lost my job, and the kids were starving! I did what I had to do to make sure they could eat.” My eyes narrow. An accusing finger jabs the air. “Bullshit. That explains the butcher and the baker, but th...

“I’m sorry, Craig, but it’s Ferdinand that I love.” My wife’s hand was inside the Eurotrash’s shirt, one of those open, rippling blouses the guys on her romance novel covers wear. He had long black hair, dark eyes, and a smoldering look that reminded me of nothing so much as Derek Zoolander’s Blue Steel. “I understand, Jess.” What? No, I didn’t. My wife’s pretty green eyes showed so much relief at this. “You’ve been a goo...

At baggage claim. Home in about an hour. The empty carousel spun as I jockeyed for position; the sooner I could get my bag and be home, the better. I was tired and frustrated. The trip itself was too long at two weeks, and I slept poorly during it. I always did when I was away from home, but especially this time. My phone dinged. See you soon. Well, that was faster than Linh had responded in a while. When I was out of tow...

The bull fucks Ellen like an artist. He’s a consummate performer, dominating her and humiliating me, but always with a knowing wink. This is a game. A show. A fun time for all of us. I’m a performer, too–a comedian–and I can appreciate someone who’s honed their craft: the time spent on his muscular physique, his sexual technique, his showmanship. He can give her something that I can’t. Except that I can; I’ve given him to...