“Baby,” she said, in a girlish voice that he usually found almost unbearably sexy, “maybe I can help you … forget your problems for a few minutes.” She crept onto the bed and started sliding her hands up and down his body, stroking his legs and chest through his clothes.
Nick had thought about this—and he’d decided that making love to her, but badly, would shake her up even more than just refusing sex. So he played along, kissed Emily back and let her strip his clothes off, joined her in their typical foreplay, but made sure to show less than his usual enthusiasm.
When she was more than ready for the actual fucking and pulled him up between her legs, Nick hesitated. He let Emily guide his cock into her, but once there he began to hump her listlessly, without energy. He made himself think about her with that bastard Pritzker, imagining them together: him with his hands on Emily’s beautiful breasts, her sucking his dick, him lying between her legs with his hairy ass going up and down.
That did it! As Nick anticipated, his erection softened perceptibly. Concentrating on the mental images of her betrayal, he continued to thrust into her, but with diminishing success. He let himself slow down, like a wind-up toy running out of energy; then he withdrew his half-hard cock and rolled to one side.
Emily looked at him in shock and dismay. “Baby! What’s wrong? Are you …” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
Making himself look past her, towards the far wall, Nick mumbled, “Sorry, Em, I just … I guess I have a lot on my mind. I, uh … sorry.”
He got up and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, grinning fiercely to himself. When he returned, he avoided her eyes as he turned off the light and got into bed on his side, rolling to put his back to her. Emily spooned up close behind him, stroking his back and murmuring to him.
“It’s okay baby, we’ll try again tomorrow.” Nick grimaced to himself. Wife, you have no idea what’s coming your way!
**********************
All weekend Nick played the distracted, worried husband, and Emily became more and more concerned. He tried not to overdo it—but he sighed, looked away from her a lot, and once or twice shrank away from her attempts to embrace him. He didn’t breathe a word about her dalliance with Pritzker, and he couldn’t tell whether it had occurred to her that he might have discovered it. But he could see that she was seriously worried.
When it was time for Charlie’s tee-ball game, Nick begged off. “You take the boys, Em—I’m going to uh, do a little work here. I’ve got some stuff to think about.”
She looked stricken. The two of them hadn’t missed any of Charlie’s Saturday games, and usually Nick could hardly wait to get there. But she just smiled and said, “okay, baby,” and came over to rub his shoulders for a minute.
As soon as they were out of the house Nick retrieved his laptop and went into the study. He downloaded the keylogger program that Brian had sent him onto a flash drive, inserted it into Emily’s computer and installed it. Within ten minutes he had it working perfectly: at Nick’s command it would reproduce all activity from Emily’s computer onto Nick’s laptop.