Somebody had sent Gavin Graham a picture, from an email address that he didn't recognize, of what appeared to be his wife lying naked on her back with her head hanging upside down off of the side of a made bed while a muscular looking black man stood over her, his erect penis shoved deep into her mouth and his face buried in her crotch. The person who had taken the picture was standing behind them when the shot was captured and he could see his wife's bright blue eyes open wide and looking directly into the camera, her long, curly auburn hair hanging down against the side of the bed, the black man's testicles hanging flopped across her nose and his bare ass sticking straight up in the air. He knew the picture was recent, as his wife had put on a considerable amount of weight over the last six months, and in the photo she is the fattest she has ever been.
Gavin went through all the usual reactions, trying to convince himself it wasn't his wife, that it was some look-a-like, that a friend was playing a joke on him and the photo was somehow a fake. Though as he stared at it more and more, looking at her eyes, her hair, her pale, chubby arms wrapped around the waist of the man, her dark red painted toenails, blurry but visible in the background, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that it was her. He began to think about the person who may have sent him this, how they obtained it, what their motive was, what benefit they might gain from him seeing this. And then he thought about his wife. Where the hell was she when this photo was taken? He didn't recognize the comforter on the bed, and it looked like a cheap generic hotel blanket if he had to guess. The picture was taken close up enough so that there wasn't anything else really visible for him to see, save for the ugly, bland looking carpet the man was standing on.
Gavin wondered how this could happen without him knowing it. Was it during the day while he was at work? His wife was a receptionist at a hospital and worked almost the same hours as him, taking the weekends off. He supposed she could easily pull off an affair without him knowing it. Though was this even an affair he was witnessing? Looking at the photo again Gavin remembered that somebody had to have taken the picture, some sort of camera man. He considered the idea that the camera was maybe positioned on a stand and captured using a timer, but it did look very professional, not as though it was taken with somebody's digital camera. He didn't know much about photography, but Gavin could tell this wasn't some amateur job. Was it some sort of porn?
He googled the email address but nothing came up. He scanned the body of the email again but there was no message at all, only the photo as an attachment file. Staring at the picture still, Gavin began to get angry. What the fuck was his wife thinking? Hadn't he been good to her over the years, and she him? Sure their sex life has been a bit latent recently but nothing he felt was unusual. After all, they've been dating each other since they were in their early twenties, a good ten plus years. It's normal to have lulls in the relationship like that. It isn't as though he didn't love her anymore. Not to mention her constant neglect for her health and good looks hadn't exactly been a turn on for him. Gavin tried hard to not make any judgements, but how hard was it for her to really put down the chocolate cake and join a fucking gym? On top of it all they had actually been talking lately about having kids. How could she let herself go before she even becomes a mother?
Gavin stared at the crack in the black guys ass and then looked at the back of his head, his face nonexistent, buried between his wife's legs, licking the only vagina he had spent the last decade of his life making love to and he thought about the irony of his wife cheating on him now that she was fat. Though maybe this wasn't the first time. How long has this been going on for? He sat at his desk through his lunch break, not even aware of the time, and repeatedly minimized the picture on his desktop so he couldn't see it and then maximized it again to it's full size, staring at it in disbelief, wishing for the whole situation to go away.
"You fucking whore," Gavin said to himself, under his breath, looking into her eyes still and then immediately felt an overwhelming sadness for thinking such a thing about his wife, the woman he's loved his entire adult life. Beginning to feel emotional, he stifled the urge to say anything else, lest somebody in the office hear him talking to himself like some sort of crazy person. Just sitting there, staring, trying to calm himself down, it didn't take long before Gavin felt certain he was going to explode. He considered taking his laptop and throwing it across the room. He wanted to flip his whole desk over and scream like a madman. He pictured his belongings, his papers, pens, telephone, wires, desk lamp scattering all over the floor and imagined everybody in the office gathering around the mess, around him as he collapsed on the floor in a fit of tears, sobbing like a schoolboy. He saw them comforting him, standing him up as he cried into their shoulders, asking him what's wrong, what happened, telling him it's going to be alright.
"It's going to be alright," Gavin said to himself, looking down at his keyboard and taking a deep breath. His eyes drifted over to the famed photo he had forgotten was even there of himself and his wife the beautiful, sunny day they were married, standing outside of the church and embracing each other, kissing, happy.
"It's going to be alright," he said again. He thought about when they were first dating, how smitten she was of him, how happy he used to feel, how much hope he had for the future. Gavin remembered how they used to go to the movies together and share a joint on the car ride there, share another one on the car ride home, then go back to his apartment and fuck until the sun came up, make breakfast together and then pass out in each other's arms and sleep through the day. He looked back and forth between the picture of his younger, slimmer, smiling wife in her wedding dress and the picture of his older, fatter wife sixty-nine-ing with some faceless black guy with more muscles on his legs than Gavin had in his entire body. He considered the idea that the photo was taken against her will, that the whole act occurred without her consent. Maybe she had been kidnapped, the camera man holding a gun in his free hand. He looked into her eyes again and tried to interpret what was going through her mind. Was it a look of desperation and fear or one of ecstasy and enjoyment?
Gavin got up from his desk to remove himself from it all, to interrupt his thought process, give himself a break from the mess and got a drink of water from the communal bubbler on the other side of the floor. He avoided eye contact with anybody in the office as he just didn't feel like talking to anyone about anything right now. He felt nauseas, emotional, slightly psychotic, and he didn't trust himself to keep it all together. Gavin had dealt with his own emotional outbursts of rage when he was younger, and as he matured had learned to get control of his anger and frustration but at the moment he was dealing with something inside of himself that he had never felt before and somewhere in his mind he was concerned for his own sanity.
the Lounge and those people are not the trash of the Internet. They are some funny people who turn my sadness into laughter. Go-go Lounge!
