“Salud!” Oscar and I concurred.
Glasses clinked, and the alcohol was downed.
Across the table, Oscar eyed me curiously. Our daughters were again visiting their cousins, so it was just Oscar, myself, and Marco at dinner. Oscar was abnormally quiet, just observing the interactions between Marco and myself. His relative silence left me feeling like I had to fill the void and be a good host, so I went out of my way to keep a conversation with Marco.
“Do your parents plan to come and visit?” I asked him as I passed the serving dish to Marco.
“I doubt it,” Marco answered. “We are well off, but that just enabled them to pawn me off to the nursemaids and tutors for my childhood. That way my father can focus on his business and my mother on her social engagements.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. That sounds quite lonely,” I said.
“Don’t be,” Marco answered with a slight laugh. “I had a lovely childhood. It’s just my childhood nurses and tutors are more likely to visit than my parents are, I’m afraid.
“It seems you turned out alright at least. Polite and upstanding. At least you did not turn out bitter or ill-behaved while seeking their attention,” I pointed out.
“They had manners instilled to me. Those instructions were made abundantly clear to my tutors and nursemaids. I know I’ve been a bit sheltered. Not allowed to go out with friends a lot like everyone else in school. You know, this meal is really quite lovely. You’ve no idea, really. Having a nice warm meal and surrounded by good people. It’s a special privilege.”
“Well, the honor is all ours. You’re welcome here any time.”
My husband shot me a glance after I uttered that line.
I tried to steer the conversation into something that would draw my husband in.
“So, Marco, do you follow La Liga?” I asked, knowing my husband could not stay silent if the topic turned to futbol.
“I do. I am a fan of Real.”
“Real Madrid?” Oscar groaned. I was right, although I knew Marco’s allegiance to his precious Barca’s archrival would annoy him to no end. “Is your family from Madrid area?”
“Aragon, actually, but my father’s family is from Madrid, so it is what I grew up with.”
“I feel bad for you, rooting for such an insipid and talentless team,” Oscar rudely stated. I was happy, however, to at least see my husband finally join the conversation.
Soon thereafter, the hour was getting late, and Marco had to head back to his apartment.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Marco gushed. “I don’t have much to offer, but really, if there’s anything I can ever do for you, please, just ask.”
“Oh, stop it. Friends take care of friends. It’s no bother at all.”
As I closed the door behind him, I turned around, and Oscar looked at me with a curious grin.
******
Later that evening, Oscar looked at me again with that same curious grin as I prepared myself for bed.
“Stop it. I already know what you’re going to say,” I flatly stated, knowing exactly what Oscar was thinking.
“Guilty conscience?” he asked.
“No, you’re just that predictable.”
“As are you. Like the pot calling the kettle black,” he slyly replied.
“You know, you keep talking about this, you may just push me to him,” I threatened.
“Already rationalized it will be my fault then?”
“Not at all. He has no interest in me, anyway,” I surmised.
“So, you would be interested if he showed an attraction to you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Maybe you should test him. See if there really is an attraction there,” Oscar suggested.
“What? How can you say such a thing?” I pushed back.
“Obviously, you enjoy each other’s company. I am pleased to see you so happy and enjoying yourself. I am not a jealous husband.”
“You cannot be serious,” I said, incredulous.
“All I know is what I see. And I know what I see.”
We went to bed after that exchange, but I hardly slept that night. I tossed and turned, the thoughts tumbling in my head like clothes in a dryer. I should be offended that my husband carelessly suggested I should test if Marco is attracted to me. How could he say such a thing? Doesn’t he care about me?
And yet, I cannot deny that I enjoy Marco’s company. I had assumed I was like a surrogate mother for him, however, our conversations tonight had a flirty undertone at times. It’s all so silly, though. Just harmless fun. I didn’t want to read anything more into it, and yet, my husband’s suspicions caused me doubt. Did Marco regard me differently than I assumed? Is it possible he was attracted to me? Even if he was, was I attracted to him in the same way? I am a happily married woman. That thought should not even enter my mind, I scolded myself. And yet, the thought is there, and it feels as if my husband is almost pushing me into his arms. All night I wrestled with these thoughts, coming to no clear conclusion, just mired in the sudden murkiness of my relationships with Oscar and Marco.
******
The next night, my husband came on to me as he does almost every night. Maybe I was feeling pity for him or maybe I just felt more amorous tonight, but I readily accepted his advances. I was on the bed with my legs spread while Oscar was on top in a missionary position as he ground his cock into me. He kissed my neck and then whispered something into my ear that shook me to my core.
“You imagine I am him, don’t you?”
Seven simple words. A straightforward question. I knew exactly whom he accused me of imagining, and I knew I should strongly refute it, yet I couldn’t. I instantly realized it was true. Was that the reason I accepted my husband’s advances tonight? Had he been correct that there is a romantic attraction between Marco and myself? Does that make me an adulteress? If not physical adultery, was it emotional? I didn’t know, and yet, I wanted my husband to continue making love to me. Or was it Marco I wanted to continue making love to me?
“It is ok. The heart wants what the heart wants. Imagine me as your young lover as I cum inside you,” Oscar whispered in my ear.
I closed my eyes and let myself fall into a fantasy, imagining our young neighbor on top of me, imagining that it is Marco making love to me. With my eyes closed, I kissed my husband in the longest, deepest, most passionate kiss we had shared in many years. I am sure he knows the reason for the extra emotion embedded in the kiss, although he returned the passion equally.
With my eyes still closed, I kissed Oscar’s neck, and pleaded him to make love to me. For the first time, I am enjoying sex with my husband. And yet, I know my husband is not the reason the sex feels good, but I don’t care in the moment.
A minute later, but too quick as always, Oscar ejaculated inside me, my vagina becoming filled with his warm cum. At last I opened my eyes, and my heart sank in guilt and disappointment as I looked up into my husband’s face. I had been imagining Marco, and seeing Oscar’s face shattered the illusory dream world I had inhabited. Again, Oscar’s face looked at me with the same curious, knowing grin.
I tried to hide my dismay as he reassured me, “It is alright, Irene. The heart wants what the heart wants.”
******
I spent the next week with conflicted emotions. I am a married woman with kids. I cannot be chasing after a young 18-year-old student. Am I to throw away 15 years of marriage? Abandon my husband? Abandon my daughters? It is all so absurd, yet my mind is filled with such thoughts. What would my elderly parents think? I could not face them. The shame and indignity would be unbearable. And yet, I am enamored with Marco. At first, I thought my relationship with him was as a surrogate mother, but now I am not sure. I feel a closeness to him. An attraction. I admit, when I see Marco, I feel an excitement.