He chuckled, took off his shoes and put them next to mine by the door. “What’s this all about?” he asked.
“Well, you wanted to know what married life is like. Yesterday, we were still in the honeymoon phase. We’ve been married for 10 years now, and we’ve settled into a comfortable domesticity. We love each other but don’t throw ourselves at each other anymore. We also accommodate each other, which is why you agreed not to wear shoes in the house. So get comfortable and help me set the table.”
“Yes, dear,” he chuckled, and went to the bedroom. He came out dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and got the silverware. “What’s for dinner?”
“Beef Stroganoff. I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will. I have the perfect wine for it.”
“That would be lovely. There’s garlic bread in the oven. Just store-bought, I’m afraid.”
He helped carry the food to the table, poured the wine and we sat down. We clinked glasses and took sips. “Ooh, I love the wine,” I gushed.
“Nothing but the best for you, my dear. Your Stroganoff is excellent. You’re spoiling me!”
“Thank you, honey. So how was your day?”
He laughed, and we had a pleasant chat as we ate our dinners. After we finished, he helped me clear the table, put away the leftovers and load the dishwasher. We took our glasses of wine to the living room. I sat a few feet away from him with my feet tucked under me and we watched TV and chatted.
When he turned the set off, I took his hand and said, “Alex, you’ve been wonderful, but I must go home. I’m getting too fond of you. Bill has been a wonderful husband and doesn’t deserve a wife that can’t commit to him fully. I don’t know if he’ll forgive me, but I want to give my marriage my best shot.”
“I was afraid this was coming,” he said sadly. “Beth, you’re too good a woman to turn your back on your husband. Let me just say that you opened my eyes to a world that could be mine, and I loved it – even the ‘comfortable domesticity’ part. If you and Bill do separate, give me a call. No promises – you can’t save your marriage if you feel you have someone waiting in the wings, and we’ve only known each other a few days.”
Even with tears in my eyes, I had to laugh. “Yeah, we haven’t even had our first fight yet! Thank you for everything. I should go.”
“You’ve had quite a bit of wine, and you’re very emotional. Spend the night. You can use the guest room, if you want.”
“Alright, but if I’m going to stay, I’ll share your bed. I want to feel your warmth one last time.”
We undressed and got into his bed. After he turned off the lights, he turned to me and kissed me. The kiss was intense – passionate, loving, tender. Our tongues caressed each other. He fondled my ass and pushed his hard cock against my thigh. I moaned as my pussy gushed, and I knew that he could take me, and I wouldn’t object.
Instead, he pulled back. “Good night, dear,” he said, smirking, and turned away.
“You bastard,” I whispered. I put my arm around him and kissed his shoulder. Eventually, I fell asleep.
Alex was still sleeping when I got up in the morning. I quietly got dressed, found my suitcase, which I had already packed, and walked out the door. I didn’t feel I was leaving without saying goodbye. After all, that kiss last night had been spectacular. I also understood that in his womanizing days, he would have had no qualms about fucking me all night. He was telling me that he cared enough about me to let me go.
I drove home and took a shower. I unpacked my suitcase, stripped our bed, and threw everything in the laundry. I took inventory in the kitchen and went out grocery shopping. I came home and thoroughly cleaned the house. I was nesting, trying to reclaim my home. I was exhausted when I went to bed. I hugged Bill’s pillow to my chest as I tried to sleep alone for the first time in many years. It took me a long time.
Friday, I went shopping. I bought some sexy underwear and the most daring little black dress I had ever even tried on. I went to the liquor store and selected a nice bottle of champagne. I remembered Alex had served me Johnny Walker Gold Label (It’s not the most expensive, but he mentioned he just liked it better). Still, I bought a bottle of the Platinum Label. I didn’t want to serve him what I drank at Alex’s. Then I bought flowers.
As I went to bed, I thought, “Well, this is it. Bill will be back tomorrow.” But as I’m about to fall asleep, I find myself wondering what Alex is doing. Is he thinking of me? Does he imagine me in his bed? Is he hoping I’ll come back to him? Am I? Then I cursed myself for my stupidity, and finally fell asleep.
Saturday morning, I was a nervous wreck. I got up early and mowed the lawn. I made sure the house was perfect. I had lunch, took a long shower, put on my new dress, and carefully put on makeup.
Bill should be home soon. I sat on the couch, our favorite drinks in front of me. I heard his car pull in and I rushed to the door, my heart pounding.
In my previous stories, there has always been a villainous seducer and a foolish woman who momentarily misplaces her vows. But in this one, there’s neither; it’s just a comedy, or rather a tragedy, of errors. Although her behavior after she learned the truth was not her wisest move.
So, gentle reader, where does it go from here? Can Bill forgive her? Does she even want to be forgiven? Maybe she’s hoping for a future with Alex. Alex says he’s ready to settle down, and he does seem to have a lot of affection for Beth. But can a leopard change his spots?
Well, I don’t really know. As I do from time to time, I just let the characters loose. So, with Hemingway’s immortal words in mind (Write drunk, edit sober), the story continues.
Just as Bill stepped out of the car, I ran out and threw myself at him in a big hug. I felt him stiffen, but I just hugged him tighter. “Please hug me, honey,” I sobbed. “Please! I’m so sorry!”
He sighed and gave me a small hug. “Let’s go inside,” he whispered. “We’re giving the neighbors a big show. Here, take this.” He went to the trunk and pulled out my suitcase and handed it to me. He took his suitcase and another bag and carried them into the house.
We set our bags down by the door. He smiled as he looked at the drinks and snacks prepared on the coffee table, the dining table laid out in our fine china and the ice bucket by the side. He looked at me and said, “I see you went all out. But our problems go beyond a mere apology, no matter how sincere. But thank you for trying, anyway.” He sat on the sofa and picked up his drink.
I asked, “Are you hungry, honey? I know your body is in a different time zone now. Can I get you anything?”
“This is fine,” he said as he bit into the cheese and crackers I had laid out. “So, I gather you ran out because you thought I was leaving you. Then you spent the weekend fucking another man. How did you manage that? Did you have a lover waiting in the wings?”
“NO,” I cried. “I had never met him before! He was going to have dinner with a client when I ran right into him. He caught me before I could fall. I told him I had to get out of there, so he led me to his car and we drove off. Honey, I went crazy. I asked him to drop me off at a motel, but instead he took me to his house. If he had done what I asked, I would have probably gone to a bar and gotten drunk, and maybe found myself chained up in a basement or working in a Mexican whorehouse. Instead, he gave me one drink and let me talk and cry it out.”