A Night at the Theatre

As I did so the blood drained from my face. The initial rapture which normally engulfed me when meeting up with my best friend evaporated instantly as my mind struggled to comprehend what I was now confronting. The brain is an amazing organ which - in the normal course of events - absorbs, processes and rationalises millions of pieces of information enabling us to function. I was now in a situation where I couldn't function. My brain and body were paralysed. I couldn't breathe. I felt as though everybody in the restaurant was looking at me.

I was snapped out of my state by Jenny giving me a big hug which, in the need to start functioning, I returned. She broke away from me and gave Jeremy a kiss, smearing a hint of pink lip stick on his cheek.

"Sarah," Jenny beamed at me, "I want you to meet my boyfriend...."

"Oh God, please no," I thought, my brain failing to compute what was happening,"this has got to be some sort of sick joke!"

"Steve....these are my very good friends, Sarah and Jeremy."

In front of me, proffering me his hand, and with an impassive expression on his face, was the man with whom I had had unbridled sex the evening before. As I tentatively reached out my hand I desperately searched Steve's eyes for any glimmer of a clue as to whether either or both of us were the subject of some ambush from our respective partners. As my hand lightly clasped Steve's I looked round warily at the expressions on both Jeremy and Jenny's faces. I caught Jeremy looking at the passing figure of a beautiful Mediterranean looking waitress and Jenny was beaming at me expectantly, seeking my approval of her boyfriend.

I turned again towards Steve who had seemingly come to the same conclusion that this must be the mother of all coincidences as his characteristic gleam had returned to his eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you at long last, Sarah," Steve said with almost a reserved politeness, "I've heard so much about you from Jenny that I feel I know you so well already."

"This guy is taking the piss."

"Jenny speaks highly of you too," was all I could utter in response before the waiter with the unfeasibly tight trousers returned to escort us to our table. As my mind began to free itself of its paralysis Jenny whispered over my shoulder, "What do you think?"

"He seems lovely," I responded lamely as we took our seats.

"Lovely?" Jenny uttered in mock indignation, "he's a hunk!"

"Pull yourself together," I reprimanded myself inwardly, "and relax. Somebody get me a drink quickly!"

Without any prompting the seating arrangement fell into me sitting directly opposite Steve with Jenny next to him and across the table from Jeremy. Steve must have read my mind as he almost physically accosted a passing waiter to take our drinks order. As soon as a bottle of Chilean Merlot landed on our table Steve immediately poured the rich red liquid into our goldfish bowl-sized wine glasses. I greedily downed almost half the contents and it was not long before its flavour washed around my mouth and then the alcohol warmed by stomach and steadied my jangling nerves. After everybody had scrutinised the menu Jeremy leaned forward.

"So tell us...how did you two meet?"

Steve and Jenny briefly glanced at each other before, with great rapture, Jenny giggled like a love struck teenager.

"Well....Steve's a property developer and he came into our office a few months ago looking for us to market some of his apartments," Jenny looked at Steve for his reaction to what she was about to say next, "and I took one look at him and thought I'd like to handle his portfolio!"

"Oh very funny," I mused to myself, "little do you know, my dear, that I've more than handled his 'portfolio'!"

A momentary pang of jealously swept over me as Steve's hand rested on top of Jenny's as they both looked at us, smiling warmly. I couldn't help noticing the large ostentatious diamond ring glinting at me in the candlelight.

At that moment our waiter returned to take our order. The reverie which existed between the two love birds was broken as we all momentarily checked our chosen dishes before trying to pronounce their names. I was about to enquire about starters when I suddenly felt a sturdy foot slowly rub up the inside of my leg. I peered over my menu only to see Steve intently scanning his. I wanted to laugh.

"You are some piece of work, mister!"

I was now on my second glass of wine and I was now more in control of my surroundings. Steve withdrew his foot and after a few seconds – not to be phased by his overture - my stiletto shoe sought out his leg. With the outside of my foot I reciprocated his movements, observing a slight smile appearing on his very kissable lips.

"So you're into property?" enquired Jeremy, cutting across the sexual tension which was beginning to emerge under the table.

"Yeah, I've got about a hundred properties across London," replied Steve, "but I'm looking to get into the Manchester market."

"Really?" Jeremy replied, now animated at this information, "My law firm deals in conveyancing. I am a bit of a property expert myself."

"That's good to know. I need a good lawyer to look after my affairs."

"Oh come on boys," interjected Jenny, "let's not talk about work. We're here to enjoy ourselves!"

"Sorry, Jenny," Jeremy apologised, "I must say you're looking even more gorgeous than usual. Clearly Steve is bringing out the best in you!"

"For goodness sake, Jeremy, give it a rest. We both know you would love to get inside her knickers!"

"Aaaaawww....thanks Jeremy, you're not looking so bad yourself. How's the painting going....?"

For the last few years Jeremy had been learning to paint from an eccentric Spanish woman with a house full of cats. Maybe I should be more of a doting wife but I was never able to share my husband's passion for this particular hobby. Steve must have seen me involuntarily roll my eyes heavenwards as Jenny indulged Jeremy's description of his latest oil on canvass.

"I take it you're not into all this arty farty crap?" Steve joked, just out of earshot of the other two.

"I wouldn't go that far," I said somewhat indignantly before suddenly realising what he was alluding to, "I have been known to enjoy the occasional trip to the theatre."

"I see. And what was the last play you saw?" Steve queried Steve matter-of-factly.

"It was last night actually."

"Really? Any good?"

"It was okay but I kept getting...distracted."

"Distracted?" Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and raising an enquiring eyebrow. I leaned back slightly in my chair and discretely eased off my right shoe with the toe of the other. I took a long sip of the fruity Rioja while holding Steve's stare. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell that Jenny was absorbed in Jeremy's very animated description of a French châteaux he had been trying to capture on canvass that summer.

"Yes, I'd had....er....a meeting earlier which was on my mind."

I placed my foot again on the inside of Steve's leg again but this time I slowly rubbed it further up, easing back further in my chair so that I could slide it along the inside of his thigh.

"Nothin' too unpleasant, I hope?"

I managed to straighten my leg now so that the sole of my foot was lodged against Steve's crotch. Without altering his facial expression Steve parted his knees more allowing me to feel his hardness through his nicely tailored trousers.

"No....quite the opposite."

There was a pause as we looked at each other. I was getting turned on and could feel my pussy starting to throb.

"Excuse me," I announced to everyone, "I need to visit the bathroom."

"I'll join you," Jenny said, and we both pushed our chairs away, reached for our handbags. As we moved towards the rest rooms Jenny hooked her arm through mine.

"You seemed to be getting on well with Steve," she smiled. "You're looking great too...I've never seen you with such a glow," she added.

"Thanks," I blushed guiltily. "Steve clearly makes you happy," I said deflecting the attention away from me.

As we entered the empty rest room Jenny giggled. "He does indeed. He's sooooo hot in bed!"

"Don't I know," I reflected.

As we both stood in front of the mirror, applying our lipstick, primping our hair and engaging in idle chitchat I heard my mobile signal that a text message had arrived. I fished out my Blackberry and absently accessed the inbox.

Take your knickers off and bring them to me. XXX

Immediately my heart started beating and the adrenalin was pumping through my body.

"Is everything okay, hun?" Jenny asked, her voice full of concern.

"Yeah, I won't be a sec...."

I darted into one of the empty cubicles and hastily locked the door behind me. Pulling up the hem of my dress I slipped out of the fuchsia and black satin panties which formed part of an expensive lingerie ensemble which Jeremy had bought from Agent Provocateur for our anniversary that week. Stepping out of the skimpy material I hastily placed them into my handbag while simultaneously pushing away the onset of guilt which threatened my decision-making. I flushed the toilet to disguise my clandestine act and emerged to wash my hands while Jenny waited smiling to accompany her back to our table.

I took my place back at the table, attempting to maintain a stoic demeanour even though the cool air caressing my bare loins made me only to aware that I was sans culottes. Composing myself I stole a glance towards Steve who was now engrossed in a three way conversation about the palatial apartment he and Jenny now shared. His eyes momentarily met mine before continuing his narrative of the Claudio Celiberti kitchen he and Jenny had commissioned.

While the attention of the table was away from me I deliberately dropped my napkin over my open handbag and in a deft manoeuvre I managed to clutch my skimpy panties over the fine linen fabric. As I straightened up I unobtrusively leaned towards Steve.

"Excuse me, Steve, you seemed to have dropped your napkin."

A momentary look of confusion passed over his face before a dawning realisation softened his features and he courteously took the napkin from me and placed it on his lap. Our expressions remained unmoved as we both leaned over to squint at returned to Jeremy and Jenny who were both now poring over pictures of their sparkly chic designer kitchen stored on her iPhone.

"Had they fucked on that marble work top?" I mused with a hint of envy.

"You both should come down and stay with us one weekend," Jenny implored with much gusto.

"So that you can show me just how wonderful and perfect you life is..." I jealously thought before imagining with a certain relish the sexual frisson that was bound to arise. "I guess I could cope with your smug exuberance whilst imagining where within your love nest your partner had secreted the knickers I have just handed him," I mused.

"That would be delightful," I responded with all the cordiality I could muster. "Let's put something in the diary. How about next Bank Holiday weekend?"

The rest of the meal passed with a great deal of joviality, with Jenny and reminiscing about our university which would have been tedious for most people who have to suffer from such interchanges. However, Steve coloured the remainder of the meal by resuming the game of footsy we had previously started. One's ability as a woman to multi-task came into its own as I balanced a stoic expression and an anodyne conversation whilst engaging a sexual overture under a dinner table.

As the meal progressed towards coffee the dynamics of the conversation developed to Jenny and I idly chatting about work and family. Jeremy and Steve were having their own discussion although despite my occasional attempts to listen in could not clarify. Whatever the subject it was enough to capture Steve's attention as the foot play had ceased and now he seemed positively enthralled with whatever it was he was discussing with Jeremy.

My caht with jenny was suddenly interrupted when Jeremy leaned over and said

You boys seem to be hitting it off really well. What ''s so interesting to distract you from us lovely girls

We're feeling neglected

It looks likely we'll be seeing a good deal more of Steve. We've agreed that I'll manage his property portfolio in Manchester.

Yes I'll be coming up every couple of months or so just to make sure your husband is looking after my interests

And I've said that he must come and stay with us

That's if the lady of the house doesn't mind

Er...no....not at all. That would be great

I couldn't help feel my cheeks burn, thankfully the dimly lit restaurant hid the reddening face.

Steve gave me a cheeky smile and almost imperceptible wink.

"Listen, it's getting late, guys. We'll do this all again next month. In the meantime I did need to get this magnificent specimen of manhood back to our hotel room."

"Yeah, honey, the same hotel room in which your 'oh so perfect boyfriend' fucked me senseless in last night!" I thought bitchily.

Steve requested the bill from a passing waiter by the ubiquitous gesture of scribbling an invisible pen across the other palm. Despite Jeremy's offer to split the bill Steve insisted on paying. Two waiters brought our coats and exiting into the warm summers evening we made our farewells. A hug and a kiss between Jenny and I and as Steve and I fronted each other a feigned cordiality before we both leaned in and Steve kissing me on the cheek, whispering in my ear, "I want you."

As our bodies moved apart I said, "I look forward to seeing you again very soon."

With that we headed our respective ways home into the night.

Epilogue

The events I have just recounted took place a couple of weeks ago. Since then I have had time to reflect on what took place and sought to reappraise myself of what the future holds in store.

I have tried to make sense of the uncanny coincidences which took place over that 24 hour period. It was meant to be. Compared with the modern day conventions what I was doing was immoral. Such was the way in which we as a couple had now forged a relationship it was inevitable that we would be seeing a good deal more of each other. There is without doubt a sense of highly charged frisson when I think of it. But it makes me think about the role of sex in a relationship. I have many friends who are married who have extra –marital affairs. Women are better at covering their tracks. Men are useless. They want sex. Women want attention and that is the nature of the contract between the two parties.

But then is it an English thing. Are we not hypocritical about sex?

It is said that there is unspoken acknowledgement in France between a couple that husbands are permitted to have their mistresses. The wife accepts this as it maintains the family equilibrium and, in some cases, is piqued if her husband doesn't have a mistress. A woman, in turn, if her own needs are not being met, will herself take a lover.

There is something pragmatic about the way the French deal with relationships. How realistic is it for a couple to meet, marry, settle down, have kids and still maintain that intensity occurred at outset. Certainly from my experience, and those of my friends, it hardly ever happens. And yet, we recall with delicious savouring the passion, desire and raw sexual chemistry which is a hallmark of that initial coupling. However, I have found to my amazement that the encounter with Steve not only had the sexual urgency of, say, my my earlier relationships but the inhibitions of my youth have gone. The intervening years with Jeremy had not only left my libido undimmed but that I have developed my deepest, darkest fantasies have the opportunity to be fulfilled.

Is there ever such as consequence-free sex? I think I'm about to find out. Do I run the risk of ruining my marriage? I don't think so and I don't want it do. I guess the same can be said for Steve. I doubt either of us want to give up our respective life styles in return for a life with someone who just doesn't share much of my world. But somehow he has tapped into my alter ego, Sarah the Slut. I challenge any woman who has not at some time or other ever fantasised about behaving the way I did.

As for the future? Who knows. Maybe I'll let you know in another future instalment.