The Phone Number on the Napkin
I’ve been lurking in this group for a while reading all the stories about guys watching their husbands hook up with other guys. As hot as those stories are, I never thought I would be the one making a post like this and asking for advice.
I did something bad tonight, and I need to get it off my chest. I am hoping at least a few of you can be sympathetic because I really need someone to talk to.
Several days ago I was doing laundry. I always check my husband’s clothes before putting them in the washing machine because he is notorious about leaving things in his pockets. From one pair of pants I pulled out several crumpled up pieces of paper, receipts and whatnot. Nothing unusual. I didn’t think anything about it and just tossed the papers in the garbage and loaded the clothes into the washer, but something caught my eye. There was a flash of gold foil. It was the design on a bar napkin. When I pulled the napkin from the garbage and flattened it, the design looked familiar but I couldn’t place it. Written on the back of the napkin was a phone number. (244)437-4446. No name. Just the 10-digit phone number.
Shawn, my husband, is always jotting down notes on whatever piece of paper is closest and stuffing them in his pockets, so finding a random phone number isn’t the weirdest thing ever, but this didn’t look like my husband’s handwriting and the familiarity of the logo bothered me. I tried to remember when my husband had worn those pants.
I fished around in the garbage for the other scraps of paper I had pulled from his pants. They were credit card receipts. One was for a restaurant downtown and another was from The Griffin, a local gay bar. That was where I recognized the napkin design from! I hadn't been to The Griffin in years, but the gold design on the napkin was a stylized minimalist winged lion-like creature. I did a quick Google search on my phone to confirm it matched the logo on their website. When had my husband been to a gay bar? According to the date on the receipt, it was the previous Thursday. I tried to remember what had happened that night.
Thursday Shawn had told me he was meeting clients for dinner downtown. The first receipt seemed to confirm that much of the story. It was time-stamped at 8 PM. But then he must have gone to The Griffin afterward because it was time-stamped a little after 10 PM. Even though it was not the itemized receipt, the total Shawn had charged at The Griffin added up to more than a few drinks bought during that two-hour time span.
Shawn had come home that night stumbling and smelling like whiskey. I was already in bed and nearly asleep. When I reached over to turn on the bedside lamp so he could see better Shawn had slurred as he told me to leave it off. I watched him, silhouetted by light from the hallway, clumsily pull off his clothes and step out of his boxers. There was enough light to see that he was erect.
Shawn crawled into bed with me and was more affectionate than usual, especially for a week night. He had been adamant that we have sex. I tried to rally, but Shawn was more demanding than usual and was saying things that were out of character. “Oh yeah, stud, fuck me with that huge cock. Stretch me out. Make me your bitch.” It was hot, but we had never had sex like that. Our love-making was always more sedate. I wound up shooting my load in minutes. When I pulled out Shawn had jerked himself off even though I offered to help. He was panting as he sprayed his own chest with cum and was asleep before I returned from the bathroom with a damp rag to wipe him clean. I wondered what had gotten Shawn so worked up that night, but we were both running late for work on Friday morning and I had forgotten to bring it up later.
Now, with this phone number and receipt from a gay bar I found myself wondering again why Shawn had been so horny? Had Shawn been flirting with someone at The Griffin who hastily wrote his number on a napkin in hopes of meeting my husband later? Had Shawn been imagining hooking up with this other guy when he demanded that I fuck him harder and deeper? Had Shawn and this mystery guy only flirted or had something else happened at the bar?
My mind was racing with possibilities and my dick was rock hard and leaking. Was my husband cheating on me? And who did this number belong to? I jerked myself off frantically while reciting the number over and over and clutching the crumpled papers in my sweaty fist. What did all this mean?
I’m not sure why I saved them, but when I was finished, I smoothed out the receipt and napkin again and tucked them under some clothes in my dresser drawer. I tried to forget about the whole thing. I promise I tried, but for the last four days, whenever Shawn comes home and tosses his phone aside, I desperately want to search the phone to see if he has called the guy.
Look, I know what you’re thinking. I should just ask my husband about it and have an emotionally-mature, adult conversation with him, but what am I going to say now? Maybe if I had asked him about it when I first found the number that would have been cool, but it’s been days! Waiting this long to ask about it has just made it weird. Am I supposed to tell him that I found a phone number four days ago and instead of asking my husband about it I’ve been jerking off to it all this time? Plus, Shawn is behaving normally. Is there any way I could ask him about this without it sounding like I’m accusing him of cheating? I decided to just keep it to myself.
However, tonight curiosity got the better of me.
Shawn came home sweaty. He had stopped by the gym after work. He peeled off his clothes in the laundry room and then gave me a quick peck on the cheek before telling me that he was going to go get a shower. I watched his perky butt muscles flexing as he climbed the stairs and couldn’t wait any longer.
As soon as I heard the water running, I climbed the stairs and found Shawn’s phone carelessly tossed aside on the bed. I unlocked the phone, checking over my shoulder to confirm the shower was still running. My hands were trembling. I opened up his call log first and swiped through days and days of business calls with all of the numbers coded to contacts that I recognized. Then I switched over to his text messages. Again, there were no unusual text threads and I scrolled back weeks just to be sure. I know I should have been relieved, but I had been expecting to find some damning evidence for so long that I felt myself deflating in disappointment as well.
I could only think of one other thing to check. I decided to search his contacts. I opened the app and started typing in the number I had unconsciously memorized. 2-4-4. The list of possible matches shrank as the phone searched. 4-3-7. There it was! The whole number–(244)437-4446. It was not saved to a contact, but the phone had auto-completed the remaining numbers. I tapped on the number and selected more information. There was no history showing incoming or outgoing calls to this number. I tapped text messages and nothing. There was no evidence that my husband had ever communicated with this number. I wondered what I should do next, but I heard the shower turn off and quickly exited out of everything, locked the phone, and tried to place it back on the bed exactly where I had found it.
Shawn is upstairs asleep right now as I type this. I know that I broke a trust in searching through my husband’s phone. I already feel guilty enough about that. You don’t need to lecture me.
I keep telling myself that I am being ridiculous. There is no evidence that my husband is cheating except that a phone number I found stuffed in his pants pocket had auto-completed when I tried searching for it on his phone. What does this mean? Is there any possible way for the number to have auto-completed without having any history? Would it still auto-complete if my husband had deleted the text thread and call history for that number?
If you have any advice, I'd love to hear it.
***Author’s Note: This story is completely fictional about characters who are all over the age of 21. I am experimenting with a different writing style. Let me know if you prefer this to standard prose. I hope you enjoy it and hopefully there will be more installments of this story in the future.