Abigail could not believe what she had found in Dave’s husband’s drawer. She was not looking for anything, just trying to sort and clean up some of the hundreds of socks that he kept stuffed inside the small drawer. When she first found the papers, she thought they were just receipts or old napkins. However, it was obvious from the words on the napkins that Dave was or had an affair with someone named “Vicky.”

The scrawl on each of the three napkins was in a woman’s hand, and each was signed with “I love you, Vicky.” Abigail noted the logo on the napkins, “The Boar’s Head.” She knew the place. A “dive” on the outskirts of town that she and Dave had never visited.

“Well, at least Dave has been there, several times,” she thought.

Abigail and Dave married eighteen years ago and had two wonderful children. At 38, and after two children, Abigail was still a very attractive woman. Her 5-foot-8-inch frame and 130-pound weight made her look much younger. She worked hard after the birth of their second child to get back into shape.

She was most proud of her big, 38D breasts that even after breastfeeding both children did not have a single sag mark or imperfection except that her nipples ended up being about an inch long. Dave found that to be very sexy, so Abigail did not mind. Although she dressed modestly in public, she and Dave always had a robust sex life, and Dave seemed very happy.

This is why the notes found in the drawer were so unbelievable to Abigail. But there, on the three napkins, was proof that Dave was unfaithful.

“I want your hard cock buried inside me,” were the only words on the first napkin, with the exception of the “I love you, Vicky.”

Abigail’s eyes were stinging with tears as she looked down at the words. She carefully replaced the notes in the drawer, closed the drawer, and slumped to the floor, weeping.

“I won’t give him up without a fight,” Abigail said to herself, although she had no clue what to do.

When Dave came home later that evening, she tried to act as if everything was alright. Abigail cooked supper as usual, helped the kids with their homework, and listened as Dave talked about his day.

“And I will have to work late on Friday,” Dave finished.

Abigail took the words in carefully and asked for clarification.

“How late will you be, Honey?” Abigail asked, trying hard to hide the hurt.

Dave explained that it was a new client, and he and his partner were going to take him out to dinner and discuss business.

“Probably pretty late,” Dave said, “I would not wait up.”

“Friday,” Abigail thought as she watched her husband climb the stairs to the bedroom, “this will be my chance to catch him and this Vicky.”

This was Wednesday night, more than enough time for Abigail to ask her mother to take the kids and go to the bar where she was sure she would find her husband with Vicky. Abigail was not sure what she was going to do when she found them, but she was determined to catch her husband with this other woman.

In bed that night, Dave rolled over and began to stroke Abigail’s breast. Abigail knew this was his way of initiating sex. She had no desire to have sex with this cheating man.

“I’m tired,” she said and moved out of his reach.

Abigail did well hiding her feelings for the remainder of the week. When Friday evening arrived, she was ready. She had tried on several outfits, from jeans and a sweater to evening wear. She wanted to look good, but not overly dressed for the confrontation. Abigail did not want this “Vicky” to have any opportunity to criticize her. She finally settled on a black skirt that was about two inches above her knee and a white sweater that made her 38C breast look that much bigger. She wanted to avoid panty lines under the skirt, so she had slipped on a string thong. She felt disgusted when she first pulled it over her hips. She pulled her shoulder-length auburn hair into a pigtail.

“The only time she wore a thong was for Dave, and that would not be happening again,” she thought.

Abigail chose a plain white bra that would not show through the sweater. Her breasts were so firm and large that padding or push-up was not needed. A pair of black panty hose and some medium-heeled pumps were the finishing touches to her “just a little more than business attire.” Abigail glanced in the mirror as her mother rang the doorbell.

“Good,” she said to herself, “I look good enough for ‘Vicky’ to be jealous, but not like I am desperate.”

Abigail’s mother was excited to have the kids and even suggested that they sleep over.

“You can pick them up Saturday,” her mother had said.

“This was perfect,” thought Abigail.

Not knowing her plans for sure, Abigail knew when she found Dave that the remainder of the evening might not be too pleasant. This way, the kids would not be at home in case things turned ugly.

Abigail watched her kids leave with her mother, grabbed her purse, and went to her car to head out of town to where the “Boar’s Head” was located. Her stomach was full of butterflies, and she tried hard to keep her anger at bay as she left the city limits and headed toward the bar.

Just as she thought, it was about two – three miles out of town. It was about seven o’clock in the evening, and Abigail noticed that the parking lot was nearly full. There were several motorcycles, pick-up trucks, but no sign of Dave’s car. Abigail thought perhaps she was early and decided she would just go inside the bar and wait.

Abigail opened the door, and the smell of cigarettes came rushing at her. The Boar’s Head was dimly lit, but she could see mostly men sitting at tables drinking and some playing pool. There were several that appeared to belong to a motorcycle club. Abigail saw the patches for “Satan’s Servants” on the back of their jackets. She could not believe Dave would be in a place like this, not to mention being with a woman like her. She saw a few heads turned toward her and felt their eyes on her body, but they turned away, and she walked to a bar stool about halfway down the bar and sat down, tugging at her skirt to make sure it had not ridden up too high.