Chapter 2: The Trophy Wife

It all started quite innocently. Last Saturday night a gathering was arranged in our home for a group of physicians from the university to watch the USA men’s soccer team play in a World Cup match. I didn’t really care about the game, but I was excited about the party. Since I’m somewhat isolated taking care of the kids, I was really looking forward to spending some time with actual adults for a change. Unfortunately none of the men’s wives came to the party, but I was still happy to mingle and chat with Eric’s fellow doctors. Thankfully, my husband’s parents agreed to take care of our two kids for the evening. Out of respect for the privacy of my children I’d prefer not use their names. My kids don’t know anything about all of this and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can, if possible.

My husband did invite one woman to the party however, a cute blonde sales representative from a pharmaceutical company. She had come to give some sort of presentation about a new drug her company was trying to promote to the hematologists in my husband’s practice. In addition to his position as an Attending Physician at the University, my husband works as a medical consultant to various pharmaceutical companies, organizing presentations of this kind. I didn’t give it a second thought when he told me she was coming. I remember kissing her on the cheek in a friendly manner when I welcomed her into my home. Her name was Phyllis or Lois, something like that. I don’t remember.

Before the game started the charming young woman spoke enthusiastically to the group of physicians. The drug was going to revolutionize the treatment of blood disorders and change the industry, she said. She was a very good saleswoman, I’ll give her that. It was clear she had some work done, which is pretty common for women around here. From the ogling looks in the eyes of the men at the party, the fake boobs only made her appear more attractive to them. You could tell by her flat stomach she never had any babies. I was quite jealous of her slender physique, as I was still trying to lose the baby weight I had gained. I’m ashamed to admit how much I secretly envied little Miss Bouncy Breasts. She looked happy and free, unburdened by the responsibilities of being a parent. Her curvy body, revealing cleavage and radiant smile made her the center of attention. She was not only pretty and sexy, but interesting and intelligent as well. It got on my nerves that the doctors wanted to know her opinion on a wide range of important issues. To be fair, some of my husband’s associates complimented me too, telling me how attractive I was and how pretty the house looked, but I know no one really respects the fact that I’m a stay-at-home Mom without a career or a job. Say what you like, I know it’s true. Everyone in our circle of friends secretly looks down upon me, despite the difficult and thankless task of raising children. I love my kids but it is exhausting being a mother, organizing birthdays and playdates, constantly buying food and clothes and toys, cooking and feeding them, cleaning up after them, keeping them happy and entertained, dressing and undressing them, driving them to school and day care through LA traffic, running them from one appointment to the next, helping them with their homework, washing them, getting them ready for bed, day after day after day. No wonder I feel listless most of the day. I hardly sleep at night, tossing and turning in bed and eventually getting up to wander around the house, looking in at the girls sleeping peacefully in their rooms. I wake up more exhausted each day with dark circles under my eyes. Being a housewife is not the ideal life it appears to be, even from within the gilded gates of Bel Air, California.

When my husband started noticing my skin growing paler with each passing day he began to suspect I was not only depressed but suffering from a physical illness as well. After a blood test revealed borderline anemia Eric prescribed iron supplements, but after a few weeks on the medication I still looked as white as a ghost. In Eric’s eyes, the sales rep must be bursting with life, health and sexual energy compared to me. She had the clear eyes and bubbly personality of a woman free from the responsibilities of married life. I had to face the fact that the younger, rosy-cheeked woman was more attractive than me.

After her presentation, the game began. Even though I was the one in their circle of friends and knew their wives and children, the group of doctors completely ignored me. I didn’t seem to exist apart from my role as the host of the party, the wife of the physician, Dr. Lancaster. The men took turns talking to the skinny bitch as she scarfed down one appetizer after another without gaining a single ounce of weight, of course, while I faded into the background with appetizer tray in hand. She watched the first half of the big game along with the men, jumping up and down like a cheerleader rooting for Team USA, her breasts jiggling up and down each time she got excited by a kick toward the goal. Even though the game comes around only once every four years, I could tell that most of the doctors were paying more attention to how they could score with the young woman than the score of the actual game. At least my husband appeared to be discreet and wasn’t staring at her boobs like all the other men.

By halftime the saleswoman was no longer in the living room with the other guests. I thought perhaps she had slipped away now that her presentation was over. Then I noticed my husband was missing from the living room as well. I thought nothing of it at first. Since we were getting a little low on wine I put the appetizer tray down and went in search of my husband so he could pick out the particular year and bottle he wished to serve his associates for the second half of the game. Eric was a collector of fine wines from around the world and had a walk in wine cellar built in to our basement which was his pride and joy. He was very particular about which vintage complimented the various cheeses. I could never keep them straight. One wine tasted as bitter to me as the next. The only kind that didn’t give me a headache was the dark burgundy, for some reason.

Sipping on a glass of wine I walked through the main section of our home looking for Eric and then checked upstairs to see if he was in our master bedroom, but all was quiet. I went back downstairs to the far end of the home and noticed the door to the guest bedroom was closed. Listening in the hallway, I heard faint noises coming from within. I thought it was probably the sound of our cats scurrying around. I put my hand on the doorknob and attempted to turn it, but realized it was locked from inside. I didn’t remember ever locking the door to the guest room before. I thought perhaps one of the kids had accidently locked it while playing and then shut the door behind them. Now a locksmith would need to be called, another annoying detail I’d have to take care of.

Walking out the side exit of our house, I thought I might be able to climb in through the ground floor window if it was open a crack. As soon as I got there I saw them going at it through the blinds of the window. I had a perfectly clear view of my husband sitting on the edge of the bed, sliding his penis in and out of the kneeling women’s mouth. I stood frozen in our back yard for a moment, numb, hurt, not knowing how to react. My first thought was to ruin his reputation and take the kids away from him in a divorce, so I took a few pictures with my I-Phone to document my husband’s betrayal. After nine years of marriage I should’ve caused a scene, throwing a rock through the window, shattering the glass, and shouting in anger at my husband and the whore whose painted lips were sliding up and down his erect penis. Rather, I stood outside the window in the bright California sunshine, calmly taking several pictures of his infidelity. It was strange. Of course I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, but outwardly I was surprisingly calm.

What was Eric thinking? Not only was he breaking our marriage vows, but right under my nose and in our own house. My husband was one of the most respected researchers and clinicians at the University. Why would he risk it all, his family, our marriage and his reputation, just to have his penis sucked on by some pretty sales rep? All I had to do was share one picture with the University or the press and his whole career and the life we built together would come crashing down on us. Since he was receiving payments to conduct trials of different medications offered by the woman’s employer, there was a good chance his license to practice medicine in California would at the very least be suspended or most likely revoked.

As I watched him thrust his penis in and out of the woman’s mouth, I began to question all the late nights coming home from the clinic and all the weekly Monday night meetings, the weekend conferences, and the luncheons provided by the various pharmaceutical companies he advocated for over the years. He must have done this before, I could only assume.

Had I not been a good wife to him? I knew I was younger and prettier than any of his colleagues’ wives and in fairly good shape, despite bearing two of his children. Why did he feel the need to go outside our relationship for intimacy? Had I not always been there for him through the years of his training? He always told me what a good Mother I was and how much he valued me. Was it all just an act? How dare he disrespect me like that? Who the hell does he think he is? The more I thought about it, the angrier I became.

When had he lost his love and respect for me? Around our friends and family he would often grasp me around the waist, pulling me close to his side while I was washing the dishes or cleaning up after a dinner party, and call me his “trophy wife”. I remember everyone having a good laugh at my expense over that joke, time and time again. I would always smile good-naturedly and play along, pretending I was too stupid to understand I wasn’t being made fun of and belittled by my own husband. There I was… the pretty, dim-witted wife of a brilliant physician, my only sense of self coming from the fact I was married to a successful man. All this time I thought I was so lucky. How could I be so stupid and naïve? Trophy wife? Fuck him. Fuck you, Eric…

As I stood at the window like a sad, lonely voyeur, watching my husband’s penis penetrate the young woman’s mouth over and over, it occurred to me what might be going on. Like most men, I knew my husband enjoyed fellatio and I occasionally allowed him to have an orgasm with me in that manner, but only while he was wearing a condom. I didn’t mind pleasing him with my mouth; I just was opposed to swallowing. Obviously it wasn’t enough that I allowed him to come inside my mouth while wearing a condom. He wanted a woman to swallow every last drop of his semen, the selfish bastard.

I keep replaying in my mind the moment when little Miss Bouncy Breasts cupped my husband’s scrotum in the palm of her hand. She was quite skilled at giving pleasure with her mouth, I assumed. She continued sucking on him until his hips bucked frenetically, his head tilted back and he ejaculated. I had the presence of mind to take a few choice pictures at the climactic, which I thought my divorce lawyer would appreciate. The whole exchange took less than five minutes. I decided never again to allow my husband to touch my body. Never again.

After the woman finished sucking out the last drops of my husband’s semen and wiping the corner of her mouth with a tissue, Eric made the tiny incision above his heart. A one inch long red slit appeared as thin as a paper cut and dripped with blood. My stomach turned sour as the woman’s lips latched onto the open flesh and sucked ravenously upon it. They were conjoined in this even more intimate act, her lips directly over my husband’s heart. Like a baby on her mother’s teat, the woman suckled with a passionate hunger upon my husband’s flesh. Eric checked his watch and then they split up and quickly dressed. The image of seeing the woman ingest my husband’s blood was even more disturbing than his act of adultery. I could kill him, I thought. It would be simple. I could take the sharpest of our steak knives, press firmly down and slice his throat from end to end while he was sleeping. It would be so easy and take less than a minute. Of course, I immediately put the horrible thought out of my mind. I never had murderous thoughts like that before.

I turned away from the window, slipped in the back entrance to the house and went straight upstairs to our bedroom, skipping the rest of the party. A few minutes later my husband knocked on the door and called out to me in his most considerate voice.

“Honey? Are you in there? The second half of the game just started. Aren’t you coming down? Honey? Are you in there?”

He knocked again but I told him through the door I wasn’t feeling well.

“Oh. I’m sorry Lilith. Are you getting those dizzy spells again, darling? Is there something I can get you?”

Darling? What a bastard! I told him no and he left me alone for the rest of the evening, thank God. I lay in bed stewing in my anger and trying to decide what my best course of action would be. I certainly didn’t want to break up my family and put the girls through all that, but I felt there were few other options available to me.

When he came to bed after the party I was still wide awake, lying in the dark fully clothed. I heard him undress and felt his naked body cuddle up next to me in bed. I felt the pressure of his body pushing against my back side.

“Are you sleeping honey?” he asked.

I shook my head no. He reached out in his usual way to fondle my breasts.

“Why didn’t you get undressed for bed, Lilith? Are you cold? Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

I didn’t answer and moved my body away from his grasp. He kept talking.

“The party was a big success. USA tied the game in the last minute. They still have a chance to go on to Stage 2 if they win their next match. I wish you were there for the second half. I told everyone you weren’t feeling well.”

I turned slightly and glanced over my shoulder at his chest.

“Where did you get it?” I asked.

“Where did I get what, Lilith?”

“The cut on your skin.”

“Which cut?”

“Which cut do you think I’m referring to, Eric? The one with the fresh band aid on it. Directly on your chest. Over your heart.”

“Oh… I’m not sure. Maybe I brushed up against something in the garage earlier today.”

The lying sack of shit moved closer and I felt his hand reach around the side of my body to fondle my breast again. I moved further away to the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong, Lilith?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Honey, we haven’t been together in a while and the kids are with my parents, so I thought it would be the perfect time to -”

“I’m not in the mood,” I said.

“Oh. OK. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Goodnight. I’m sure you’ll feel better tomorrow. I love you, Lilith…”

As I said, the perfect husband. Eric turned over on his side and was sleeping like a baby within minutes, without a care in the world. After a few hours of tossing and turning, the lining of my throat felt like it was on fire. I got out of bed to drink several cups of cold water, but was unable to quench my thirst.