NEW STORY TITLE: MY CRAZY AFFAIR
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I had an affair.
I cheated on my husband three times before my lover and I got careless and were caught. He didn’t catch us, thank God. It would have destroyed him. Well, it would have destroyed him even more. It ended up destroying our marriage anyway, but at least he had no visual.
No, we got caught by a coworker. One who resented our success and didn’t hesitate to knock us off our pedestals.
It wasn’t like I went looking for it to happen. My therapist has finally gotten me to understand nothing ‘just happens’. You make choices every day of your life and the consequences alter your life from that point on. She taught me one makes choices, whether or not one consciously recognizes them.
So I had an affair. I’d like to say I was drunk or drugged, but the first time I’d had three glasses of wine the whole evening. He was very nice looking, and we had flirted lightly back and forth for almost a year. It evolved that we were on the same team, often doing projects together. We even joked about being ‘work spouses’ to our significant others when we were all together and everyone laughed.
My husband grinned. “Good. As official work husband, I pass the expense of her shoe fetish on to you.”
His wife got into the banter with us. “Yes, and I pass the training of learning to leave the toilet seat down to you. We expect regular progress reports.”
We all laughed and hugged before we left the party. Hubby told me how much he liked them on the way home, and maybe we should invite them into our circle. They had just moved here and were eager to make friends, and we subsequently spent many pleasant evenings with them and our other friends, who accepted them without reservation.
I will not bore you with physical descriptions like how big my breasts are or how well hung he was. What does it really matter? We were young, in good shape, fairly attractive, and let it go at that. And I will absolutely not talk about the sex. My husband was the oldest at thirty, the rest of us in our late twenties.
I had a good job, getting it straight out of college and working my way up. Over the years, I’d had several promotions, and the old man (he was 70) who owned the company often told me I was the daughter he wished he’d had.
I became a team leader, something that required one night away on the average of every two months. I hated it, but hubby said it wasn’t a big deal. I left on Thursday morning, spent the afternoon and the next morning in meetings, and was usually home by four. We used to make love like we’d been apart for weeks when I got home, but as it became routine, it cooled.
It wasn’t like we were bored with each other. We were young and enjoyed making love three to four times a week, on average. Sometimes if we were really busy, it may go down to once a week, but as soon as we had the opportunity, we tried to catch up. We dated for eight months and lived together for almost a year before we married. We were together for three and a half years as a married couple.
The sex came about after a pretty intense round of meetings, and we were both keyed up. We had dinner together and split a bottle a wine. Oddly enough, the chief topic was about how much we missed our spouses and some of the future activities we had planned together as couples. A comment was made, and agreed with on how that when we were as keyed up as we were, sex with our spouses was the preferred means of decompression. I remember it being said, but I can’t remember whether it was me or him that said it.
Then it turned to light flirting, innuendos, and small touches. He joked that as work spouses, we should take up the slack of our real spouses. I admit it; he was handsome and always had the right words, something which made him invaluable on my team. We ramped it up, but in the end we went to our rooms alone.
I was thinking about him as I lay in bed touching myself, using him for fantasy fodder, when there was a knock on my door. I put on my robe and opened it to find him standing there with a bottle of wine and two glasses. We never finished the first glass before we were all over each other. In short order, we were on my bed, coupling frantically. Neither of us lasted long, but we lay there and caressed and cuddled until it was time for round two. He left me at three in the morning. I collapsed back into bed and slept like a rock.
I woke up at seven feeling like I was suffocating, literally gasping for breath. I had cheated on my husband! Shoved my vows into a dark corner of my mind and rutted like an animal. I probably took the longest shower of my life, trying to wash what I’d done away.
He was subdued as well, barely meeting my eyes in our morning round of meetings. We were seriously ineffective that day. We didn’t even sit together on the plane home.
We danced around each other for two weeks before he came into my office and shut the door. We talked for forty-five minutes. He apologised for coming on to me, and I apologised for taking him up on his offer. We agreed it was a one off and we would take the secret to our graves.
That lasted for six months. We had put the past behind us; I thought. I know I felt as low as humanly possible for about a month until hubby asked me point blank what was bothering me. Almost fainting, I recovered and told him it was work related (not technically a lie) but I had resolved it, and the problem was a thing of the past. He frowned and then almost broke my heart. “I’m going to call X and tell him to keep a closer eye on you. After all, if it was his wife and I could, I’d do the same.”
Six months later it was Christmas time, and we were stuck for two days in a Northern town because of one of their biggest blizzards in history. Hubby and I talked a couple times a day, and he told me to let my work husband keep me entertained. He told me he and Mrs. X were going to the theater together to see the show I had been waiting for all year. He could tell I was upset. “If it bothers you, we won’t go. I’ll give the tickets to her. Maybe her sister can go.”
I recovered enough to tell him it was fine, but he owed me a big surprise for next Christmas. He agreed and said he was already working on it. X and I commiserated, and he complained about how much his wife liked my husband. “It’s always ‘Look how considerate he is. It must be nice to be treated like a queen. Did I tell you about the delicate necklace he bought her just because he saw it and thought how good it looked on her?’ ”
I unconsciously rubbed the necklace, smiling at the joy it had given me. It was a total surprise, not my birthday, not Christmas, just because “A neck as sensuous as yours deserves this. It will highlight the smoothness and perfection of your skin.”
He was not perfect and had minor flaws that aggravated me to no end. Then I would see other couples in our group, how the women envied me and the men either admired him or were disgusted because he kept the bar so high. Then I’d just smile and hold his arm a little tighter.
The upshot was we got drunk and ended up screwing for two days. We were still at it when they called my room to tell us the airport was now open and we could go home. We showered together, sat together on the plane, and swore that while we enjoyed it immensely, it would absolutely never ever happen again. Four months later, we got caught.
I know you want to know about the sex. It was sex between two young, healthy adults. Yes, it was good. Was it worth the price? No.