Irene and the New Young Neighbor by Oldbroad76,Oldbroad76

Oscar sat up, an amused look on his face. “You’re not thinking of leaving me and the girls, are you?”

“No, I don’t think I am, anyway,” I replied, not at all certain in my answer.

“But you want to sleep with him, don’t you?” Oscar persisted.

“Oscar, how can you say that? You’re the only man I’ve ever been with.”

“I know. But I’ve been with many other women prior to you. Maybe you are curious what it is like to be intimate with another man,” he pointed out.

I sighed deeply. I couldn’t believe I was openly talking about cheating against my marital vows with my husband.

“How are you so calm to talk of me possibly cheating?” I asked him. “Are you not enraged? At Marco? At me?”

“There is an old saying,” Oscar answered. “You can try to hold on to something so tight and fight so hard so you will never lose it. But sometimes it is better to let go, so you can know if there’s even something still left to hold on to.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.

“Just be honest with me, Irene. Don’t hide your relationship with him from me. Our daughters, yes, spare them. But, me, I’d rather not be blind.”

I was practically in tears. My husband was giving me permission to sleep with Marco, and I was confused by his reaction. My husband should fight for me, I thought, and yet, he seemed to stand aside so I can be with Marco. Suddenly, Oscar looked very small in my eyes.

With that, my husband turned out the lights in our room, and we were draped in a cloak of darkness. Soon he was snoring next to me, but I hardly slept a wink that night. I had expected that maybe Oscar would talk me out of having an affair with Marco, but it seemed to be quite the opposite, and now it seemed like a foregone conclusion what action I would take tomorrow. The implications of my infidelity started to weigh on my mind. The thrill of being intimate with Marco played in my head, but I was also filled with fear. To be intimate with Marco meant putting my 47-year-old body on display for him. He says I am beautiful, but my clothes hide so many flaws. Surely Marco will be disappointed if he sees the real me. And then the fear hit me of facing my husband afterward. Oscar has seemingly blessed my infidelity, yet I should feel shame. I made a marital vow to only love my husband, and now I am on the verge of breaking my vow. I still could not comprehend how my husband will not be disgusted by me cheating on him. How he will not look upon me with contempt. And yet, my mind always circled back to Marco. I remembered the way he comforted me in the café earlier. How he made me feel beautiful and appreciated. I knew what I would do. I knew I would enter Marco’s apartment tomorrow night and make love to him.

******

It was 5 pm the next day, and I stood in the hallway of our apartment building in front of Marco’s door, apartment 316. I was dressed in yoga pants and a tee shirt. My gym clothes didn’t constitute dressing up, but my daughters are home, and I didn’t want them suspecting anything untoward. It was bad enough that Oscar knew where I was going, and I felt guilty as I waved goodbye to him just moments earlier. As I stood outside Marco’s apartment, I took one last deep breath, and then I knocked on the door.

Within a few seconds, Marco answered the door, his eyes gazing expectantly. I had not spoken a word to him since we left the café last night, so he had been held in suspense since we parted, wondering what decision I would make.

“May I come in?” I timidly asked. I smiled meekly, hopefully at Marco, my eyes pleading him to invite me in, wishing he has not changed his mind and would reject me.

Marco breathed a huge sigh of relief and his face broke into a huge grin. “I am so relieved to hear you say that. Please, come in, come in,” he said, motioning me to following him into his home.

I came here to be a seductress, and I felt anything but. I have been married for 15 years. I have not dated in even longer than that. I don’t know how to be alluring, mysterious, or sexy. I felt awkward and clumsy as I stumbled into his apartment.

It was actually my first time in his home, and I surveyed the location where I shortly planned to commit adultery. His place was spartan with minimal furniture and no decorations.

“I am sorry. It is very basic,” Marco apologetically explained. “My family has money, but I do not want more than I need. It is suitable for me, but maybe not for impressing visitors, such as yourself.”

“No, it is perfect. Charming even,” I tried to reassure him.

“Here, let me get you a drink. Perhaps you can have a seat on the sofa. Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Marco walked over to the kitchen and grabbed a wine bottle. I sat down on the sofa. It looked brand new, the cushions hardly even broken in. It is funny how sex complicates things. When he came to my apartment for dinner or we walked to the gym, our conversations were easy and free flowing, but now I struggled to come up with anything to say. Our idle chit chat seemed pointless and paled against my reason for being in his apartment. That reason hung over us, unspoken, but unmistakably palpable.

Marco returned in less than a minute with two wine glasses and sat down next to me.

“A toast, perhaps,” Marco suggested as he handed me a glass. “To love and romance, in all it’s strange and mysterious ways.”

“To love,” I toasted as our glasses clinked.

“You seem nervous. Perhaps this will help you to relax,” he said, pointing to my glass.

I smiled demurely. I felt the wine coating my throat as I swallowed it down. It was slightly bitter. I can’t imagine it took effect so quickly, but I instantly felt more comfortable. Maybe it was all in my mind. Maybe comfortable wasn’t quite the right word, but I was prepared for what was to come. Marco lifted his hand to the side of my neck, his fingers running through the edge of my reddish-brown hair, fingering the strands while his palm caressed my cheek. Slowly, he turned my head until my eyes met his. Then he leaned in, and we kissed. A long, slow, deep, smoldering kiss. His lips were soft, and I tasted the wine on his tongue. I let my empty wine glass fall onto the sofa cushion next to me as I wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed me; I kissed him back. I turned to lie down on the couch, and Marco followed me down, his body now on top of mine. I felt as if in a dream. It was all so surreal.

I ran my hands over his body. Up and down his strong arms. Over his firm chest. Across the muscles in his back. I lifted his shirt, raising it over his head and throwing it behind us. Then my hands touched his skin. I ran them over his chest and back again, only now I felt the smooth contours of his skin on my fingertips and palms.

Marco was kissing me on the neck, nibbling at my ear. I spread my legs and wrapped them around his waist. His bulge was noticeably grinding my crotch. Between his kisses and how his body felt to my touch, my panties were wet.

Marco looked into my eyes and asked, “You are sure?”

One last confirmation that I wanted this. One last chance to change my mind and back out.

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