“Oh, that’s a good idea.” Cecile was not particularly interested in her husband’s business affairs. It was his favorite, if not his only, topic of conversation, and the years of listening had left her tired of hearing of it. Still, she was happy to have him occupied with this and not suspicious of the faint smell of sex or the marks leftover from Cesar’s affections that remained on her body.
“Next Saturday I’m going attend the market with you and see if that would be a good place to expand.”
Cecile was awash in trepidation. She tried not to let her face betray it. Auguste was nearly expressionless. For a moment she thought she detected a smirk, but it could’ve been in her head. Her mind raced. Was he getting wise to her and now toying with her or was this a genuine business decision?
She tried to smile instead of wincing. “The Saturday market? Auguste what could you want there? Surely it is below you.”
“I think it’s worth looking into. You seem to do alright there, and I could even give you a hand”
“Yes, but I just make some extra money and stay busy. You are a true craftsman. Going there would be a waste of your time. Besides I need no help.”
“You must think I’m a fool. Even if you sell out, you take so long. No, I go for my own interests, but with me there to supervise, you will be home an hour sooner, if not more.”
Cecile heard no contempt in what he said. “Maybe his wish to go is genuine”, she thought, though her heart still pounded at the thought that this was part of some ploy to expose her affair. It was true that Auguste had been aloof in their marriage, but if he found out she was making a fool of him behind his back, he would be furious.
Their son Guy walked into the house and shouted about wanting dinner. Normally Cecile would reprimand his poor manners, but she was happy for the interruption.
“I’ll have it ready soon,” she called back. Then she turned to her husband and said sweetly, “Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself at the market. I usually do” before walking off into the kitchen.
In the week that followed, Cecile tried to scour her husband’s face for any sign that he suspected her. When she was alone, she found herself parsing his tone, his words, even small gestures he had made earlier, for any indication that he intended to sniff around and find out about Cesar. Other than his eagerness to attend the market, he left few clues. Upon bringing up the subject for the fourth time during the week he raised his eyebrow at her.
“You have such concerns about my attendance?” he asked.
She chalked it up to mere curiosity and then did not bring it up again until Saturday out of fear of arousing suspicion where before there may have been none.
Regardless, she would not be visiting Cesar again for at least a week. Despite this, her desire had only grown. The thought her husband may know of her affair, that even to him, she was marked, filled her simultaneously with stress and lust. Her muscles would tighten, and she found herself daydreaming about how Cesar’s touch could relieve that tension, only to catch herself fantasizing.
She no longer merely imagined that passerby knew about the things they did together. Now she would lie in bed with her eyes closed, barely awake, imagining standing in front of a small group of marketgoers wearing a thin blue dress with nothing beneath, Cesar standing behind her, displaying her to them. He would lift the hem up to her thighs and tell them why her knees were red. He would tell them how good she tasted and how good it felt when she tasted him. Then he would turn her around. She would hold her hands against his chest and nuzzle her face into his neck while he lifted her dress further and she felt the air and the eyes on her backside. He would rub his hand over her rump while they looked on with envy, giving her a firm pat so they could see how it jiggled. Then she would rouse herself from her trance, and the loud breathing of her sleeping husband would remind her that if she were going to feel Cesar’s touch again, she was going to have to wait.
When Saturday finally came, Cecile awoke before her husband, unusual for her. Although she was still a bit apprehensive, having to wait through the week had eroded some of her fears. Even if Auguste was suspicious, she reasoned, he would make no word of it in public for fear of making himself look foolish. Besides, as long as she herself gave no indication of the affair, what could he do? Tell her he had smelled another man on her a week ago?
While at the market, they barely spoke to one another. Auguste paced around the area a bit, speaking to others little and mostly eyeing transactions from a distance and scowling. It was clear to Cecile that he indeed found that the place was below him.
During a lull, she found her friend Demetria standing alone and staring intently toward the horizon. Demetria was a very earnest woman, twenty-seven years old, and though Cecile did not know her particularly well, she knew she could confide in her. She did not notice Cecile approaching until she was standing right next to her at which point, she smiled at the surprise.
“Cecile! How have you been? It feels like a long time since we spoke last.” She embraced Cecile and kissed her cheek. Cecile noticed the woman’s strength. Demetria’s father had died when she was a fifteen, and she had lived with her mother her entire life, taking on much of the labor after her father’s death, and her physique reflected it.
“It’s been too long Demetria. My mind is a mess these days, but it’s a joy to see you.” She had always found the younger woman’s sunny disposition infectious. Even when she sat at the market waiting for customers, she would often gaze off and admire Demetria. The woman had to work hard to help her mother and had given up a great deal of her own future to do so. She had a full chest and shiny raven hair that bounced as she bounded across the market, getting provisions for the week. Her clothes were simple, but they laid softly over her, and one more than one occasion Cecile had noticed men at the market admiring the firm body whose shape they revealed. She could have married into wealth like Cecile had and avoided much of the work she took on for herself and her mother, but she walked a more difficult path instead. Her smile remained sweet and genuine, nonetheless.
“Ah, your son is growing up. I can only imagine what a headache he must be.”
“No, Guy is a good boy. I’m afraid my troubles are of my own making.”
Cecile had not intended to confess what had been plaguing her mind lately, but her thoughts and feelings seemed to just spill from her mouth as Demetria nodded along, doing her best to comfort her friend. It was Cecile’s first time telling her about the affair with Cesar, and as she looked into Demetria’s sympathetic eyes, she gave more and more details. First, she simply told her that they met in the woods on Saturdays and shared in carnal pleasures, but as her friend became enrapt in her story, she felt compelled to offer more and more details, speaking softer and softer so that no one else could hear her until she was nearly whispering.