A wife decides to divorce her husband because he had three affairs . To make things even and avoid divorce the husband offers the wife three consequence free encounters with other men. In one encounter the husband ends up in the house during his wifes escapade and he hides under the bed.

Chapter 1: Introduction

It all started with a knock on the door. A knock I didn't want to make, but I had agreed to come.

Two months of silence, two months of living with my mother and her endless supply of casseroles, and two months of no sex—the last one being the most difficult to endure. I hadn’t dated, hadn't looked at another man since I found out about Mark’s little… let's call them "extracurricular activities." Three of them to be exact. Three women who weren't me.

Can you believe that? My husband, the charming house painter, had managed to squeeze in more paint jobs on the side than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking contest. I had been living with this revelation for two months now, and yet, I was standing in front of our little starter house—with its white picket fence that was about as useful as a chocolate teapot—about to confront Mark.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the creaky gate, making a mental note to oil it. No use in letting Mark off the hook for all his maintenance failures.

I walked up to the front door, which was painted a cheery yellow—a shade that Mark had insisted would "brighten up the place." Brighten up the place? It was like painting over a pile of shit with a coat of sunshine. I knocked.

The sound echoed through the house, bouncing off the freshly painted walls like a ping-pong ball in a small room. I could hear Mark yelling, "Coming!" from the back, followed by the sound of rapid footsteps. The door swung open, and there he stood, my soon-to-be ex-husband, in all his glory. Mark was dressed in his painter's duds, a splash of white paint on his cheek like a misplaced beauty mark, and a grin that could melt ice cream—or at least, it used to.

"Sarah, It's great to see you, please come inside," Mark said warmly. His smile was as fake as a three-dollar bill.

I stepped into the house, refusing to return his smile. "Mark, we need to talk."

He gestured towards the cozy living room, where the scent of fresh flowers was doing its best to mask the smell of paint. I sat down on the worn-out couch, the wooden floor creaking under my weight. Mark chose the plump armchair across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I'll cut to the chase, Mark," I began, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

"I've come to finalize the divorce."

Mark's grin drooped like a deflating balloon. "Divorce? Sarah, we've been together since high school. We can work this out. I can paint the walls any color you want."

I raised an eyebrow. "The walls aren't the problem, Mark. It's the women you were painting on the side that's the issue."

He had the nerve to look offended. "Sarah, I told you, it was just a moment of weakness. Those women meant nothing."

"Nothing?" I scoffed.

"Oh, I see. You were just doing community service for the 'In Need of a Good Lay Foundation,' is that it?"

Mark's eyes widened in mock indignation. "Sarah, that's not fair.

I laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the small room. "And what would you call it, Mark? A 'paint party' gone wrong?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the grin now entirely absent. "Alright, alright. I messed up. If you ever want to know what I was going through let me know, otherwise, your sarcastic jarbs will do, I suppose." Mark said dryly.

I sighed, the weight of the last two months settling on my shoulders. "Look, Mark, I'm not here to rub your nose in it. I'm here to make this as painless as possible. I want a divorce."

Mark leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the room as if he was trying to find the right words on the freshly painted walls. "Sarah, I can't just let you go. We've got history. We've got... memories."

I snorted. "Oh, you mean like the time you 'forgot' our anniversary and took out ‘the girls’ for a night out instead?

Or the time you 'accidentally' left your phone unlocked and I saw the little heart emojis from 'Jessica, your sweet little painter’s assistant'? Those were some real keepers, Mark. Memories to last a lifetime." I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mark's cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously in his lap. "Okay, okay, I get it. I fucked up. But I'm not ready to give up on us just yet."

I leaned forward, my back stiffening. "And why is that, Mark?

"I've been thinking about why I did it. I don't expect you to understand. We were kids when we got together. I thought I wouldn't care about not having any wild experiences. no banging cheerleaders like other guys, no sleeping around in college. no variety." Mark said earnestly.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, so your midlife crisis manifested as a series of cheap booty calls? How original."

Mark ignored my sarcasm, his eyes pleading. "Sarah, I've been thinking. What if we could make things even? What if I gave you... an allowance, of sorts?"

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. "An allowance? Mark, I'm not five. And you can't buy me off with a weekly stipend."

Mark leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with what I could only hope was not desperation. "Not money, Sarah. Something else. Something...Look, I need to ask you something before I tell you," Mark said with a hint of hope.

I raised an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. "Alright, I'm listening.

"Before I can go into this I need to know if you've fallen out of love with me," he said looking directly into my eyes.

I scoffed and threw my hands up in the air, "Look around, Mark. You think I'm here because I miss the sound of your snoring? Or the way you leave your smelly socks all over the place? No, I'm here because I thought we could end this cleanly.

"Sarah do you remember telling me that you dwell on what I did with these girls? that you picture it and can't let it go?" Mark inquired gently.

I paused, taken aback by the sudden change in tone. "What? No, I don't... I mean, yes, of course, I do. Every time I close my eyes, I see those bitches with your paintbrush—and I don't mean the ones hanging in your toolbox." My face flushed at the mental image, and I quickly pushed it aside.

Mark nodded, as if he had expected that answer. "Alright, then. Here's my proposal." Mark shifted and spoke carefully, "This only works if you still love me, If you don't this is pointless." I huffed, "I don't know what kind of love you're expecting after what you did, Mark. But I'll bite, what's your proposal?"

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I want to give you...three free passes."

I blinked, sure I must have misunderstood. "Three free passes? Mark, what are you talking about?"

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "Three consequence-free encounters, Sarah. With anyone you want. No questions asked, no judgments made. Consider it...a way to even the score."

I stared at him, taken aback.

"Are you serious? You're suggesting that I sleep with three other men to make us even? Mark, that's...that's insane."

Mark didn't flinch "I'm giving you another option, one that doesn't end in divorce. I propose that you move back into the house. I'll sleep on the couch for now if you prefer. We stay married. Are you following so far because there's more.." He leaned in further, like a salesman about to close the deal on the greatest invention since sliced bread. "You get to choose three men—any three men—and do whatever you want with them. No judgment, no guilt, no paperwork. And then, we move on. We go to counseling, we work on us, and we try to salvage what we have."

I stared at him, my mouth agape. "Are you for real right now, Mark? You're essentially giving me a hall pass? Like some kind of twisted version of 'The Game'?"

Mark nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Exactly. I become the one that has to endure the mental images. Every damn thing that I made you suffer, now I suffer it too. And maybe, just maybe, I win back your love." I stared at him, my brain struggling to process his absurd proposal. "So let me get this straight," I said slowly, "you're suggesting that I sleep with three other men to 'even the score'?"

Mark nodded, his expression earnest. "Yes, exactly. Don't you see, Sarah? It's a chance for you to have some fun, to explore, and to maybe even understand what I was feeling."

I laughed, a harsh, disbelieving sound. "Oh, so now you're saying that you want me to understand what it's like to be unfaithful?

Mark, are you sure you're not still on some sort of high from all those paint fumes?" I shook my head, still struggling to process his audacity.

Mark, however, seemed undeterred by my skepticism. "Come on, Sarah. You're always the one telling me to 'walk a mile in someone else's shoes.' Well, here's your chance. And who knows? Maybe you'll enjoy it. Sarah reach into yourself, you were so young when we got together. You never wonder? You never want to be someone else, even for a night?" Mark continued, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that was as disconcerting as it was unexpected.

I folded my arms across my chest, my mind racing as I tried to make sense of his ludicrous proposal. "Mark, this isn't some kind of game. You don't just get to propose some...some hall pass for me to go out and play with other men. That's not how this works."

Mark shrugged, a nonchalant gesture that belied the intensity of his gaze. "Who says? We make our own rules, Sarah. You want a divorce, fine. But before you sign the papers, give this a shot.

Three passes, Sarah. Three chances to scratch that itch you never let yourself scratch because you were so busy being the perfect wife. And then, we can try to fix this. Together."

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. "You're giving me a 'get out of jail free' card, Mark? Really? You think that's going to make this all better?"

Mark leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. "I don't think it'll make it all better, Sarah. But it's a start.

And hey, who knows? Maybe you'll have some fun. Maybe you'll realize that you don't want to be with me anymore. Either way, it's a win-win."

I stared at him, my mind racing. The audacity of his proposal was almost hilarious. Almost. If it wasn't so ridiculous, it might have been offensive. Then again, it was Mark we were talking about. The man who thought a fresh coat of paint could fix anything.

"You're serious, aren't you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mark nodded, his smile never wavering. "As a heart attack, Sarah.

I can't tell if you're insane or brilliant," I said, leaning back against the couch cushions and studying Mark's earnest expression. He looked like a puppy that had just brought me a dead bird as a peace offering. "You do realize that this is the most batshit crazy proposal I've ever heard, right?"

Mark shrugged, that annoying grin still plastered on his face. "Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. And besides, it's not like I'm asking you to marry one of your conquests afterward. Just...a little fun, a little exploration.