A Wife, A Secret Life and Discovery

Then there it was, as clear as day. "Yes, harder," she cried. "Yes, yes do it."

I dialled her number and heard the phone ring. "Oh fuck no." I heard the guy groan. "Please, Ava, let it go to message bank, shit I'm so close."

"I can't," she sighed. "It's Ian. Please just be quiet, and get off me." She answered breathlessly on the sixth ring. "Hello, Ian my love. What's wrong."

"Wow, you sound as if you've been working out. I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" she answered, her words faltering, uncertain.

"Yes, Honey. I'm standing outside your room. I decided to catch a late flight so we could spend the night together and celebrate your success."

"Outside the door..." She gasped in complete shock. I pictured her rushing around trying to decide what to do. There was a long pause.

"Honey, are you going to open the door?"

"Um... Ian... I'm..."

"Just open the bloody door, Ava, what the hell is the problem... Just let me in."

I could hear rustling and frantic movements. The door opened and she stood there guiltily, wrapped tightly in one of those fluffy terry towel robes staring at me. There were tears building in her eyes, and she looked like she was going to die of embarrassment.

She held the robe so tightly, there had to be a reason. I had to see. I reached out and pushed the robe off her shoulder. She tried to regather it, but I grabbed her arm, holding tightly whilst I pushed it off with the other.

It pooled at her feet, and she stood before me in a sexy red and black silk basque-style corset. There was so much lace I could see most of her body. The bust was fitted, and her nipples poked out from the half cup. Black seamed stockings, pegged to the hem of the basque. It was an image straight out of an old edition of Playboy magazine. The only thing missing were the stilettos, but when I looked at the floor. There they were. What a fucking cliche.

I stared over at the bed, and the smug bastard just sat there, naked, obviously, just a thin sheet covering his groin. He said nothing, just stared with the hint of a smirk. "Ian..." Ava stuttered hesitantly.

I dropped the bunch of flowers I was holding at her feet, and snarled, "Don't come home, Ava. I don't care where you go, but don't you dare set foot on my doorstep."

Right at that moment any semblance of self control evaporated. Filled with unbridled white hot fury. I felt my fists knotting and releasing over and over. Thoughts or words, were impossible, all I felt was fury, undiluted unmitigated hatred.

"Ian, let me explain."

"Fuck you, Ava," I roared, uncaring that the whole hotel must have heard., then stared at the arsehole still sitting naked in her bed, and snarled viciously, "Fuck you too, arsehole."

"Ian, please." She pleaded trying to gather my hand in hers. "Give me a moment to change and we can go somewhere and talk."

"No, Ava, there'll be no talking and as far as us, you and me goes. We are no more. There is no we. Have a good night."

I turned and walked out the door, pulling it closed behind me. I was almost at the elevators when the door opened and she cried out. "Ian, wait. Please give me a chance here."

I had to get away, even breathing became difficult. Never in my entire life had I been overwhelmed with such an uncontrollable fury. I ignored her supplicating pleas. Focused on staring the other way and stepped into the elevator the moment the doors slid open.

I walked directly to my hotel. I have never been a violent man. I'd read newspaper articles, watched news items on TV about crimes of passion disbelievingly. Right at that moment, though. I understood completely. If I hadn't walked away, god knows what would have happened.

Thank heavens I hadn't taken the option of flying out that night. There was no way I could interact with people. I needed to be alone, let my heart rate and blood pressure normalise.

Laying on the bed in my room, my phone buzzed. "Where are you, Ian? Please don't hang up. Tell me where you are, and I'll come to you so we can talk."

"Don't bother, Ava. I would hate to deprive your lover of finishing what you so obviously had already started."

"Ian, please, tell me where you are. I can be there in a few minutes."

I laughed sarcastically. "You'd get arrested for indecent exposure." I disconnected the phone, turned it off, and lay back on the bed.

Up until today, I had hoped it was nothing more than a bad dream, a nightmare. I had prayed that it was all a mistake. How could she be so cold and calculating? Lying to me so easily. He was in the damn room with her, they were making love and she pretended everything was normal.

It was a complete and utter mess. There was no sleep for me that night. In the morning, I got up early and made it to the airport with enough time to get breakfast, whilst awaiting my flight.

Driving back home, I still didn't have a clue. Mentally, I started building a list. Top of that list was our home... The words caused the acid in my stomach to boil. Ours, my arse. I designed it, I helped build it. There was no way she was getting it. Money, god, she made almost five times as much as me. I hoped that if I agreed not to ask for anything from her, she would leave my little business alone. The kids were off at Uni, no problems there. Cars: hers was a late model Audi, mine a five-year-old pickup."

She was going to come out better than me.

I was barely in the door when my phone buzzed. "What do you want, Ava?"

"I'm just getting ready to cancel my meetings and catch a flight home. We need to talk."

"Don't bother. I don't want to talk to you. I was serious yesterday. Don't come home, Ava. Go anywhere you want, with whoever you want, but do not come here."

"It's my home, as well, Ian," she said with a hint of sorrow. "And we do need to talk." Her voice becoming firmer, determined.

"Ava, don't come home. Finish your bloody meetings, enjoy your fuckathon with whatever his name is. I will not be responsible for my actions if you come home. At the moment, all I want to do is strangle you."

She must have picked up on my anger, because she sighed deeply, and said, "Very well, have it your way. I have my own room now. Do you want the number?"

"No."

"We need to talk, sweetheart. Please."

"No. Give me a week or so to try and let some of this anger abate, then I'll call you when I'm ready to talk. Right now, I think I might actually kill you."

She obviously wasn't happy, but muttered, "Very well. Call me when you're ready."

The next week went so slowly. My life revolved around work, eating and sleeping. My only physical release being my nightly run. Nothing made sense, it just bloody didn't.

Saturday, it all caught up with me, when Cal phoned to see how I was going, I needed to vent, and it all came pouring out.

"Shit, mate. I'm sorry to hear that. I think you need to get out of the house, pal. I suggest we meet up at Fiddlers on Victoria street."

"Yeah, righto mate. You're right. Sitting here staring at the walls is killing me."

Yep, we started at The Irish pub Fiddlers, but then it was onto Pitt street, then the Occidental. My last memory was the Empire tavern. It was a mess. We met up with a couple of friends and did a good old fashioned pub crawl.

*****

I woke up the next morning, my head aching. Shit, it was worse than an ache. It pounded. If I slept with my head in a bass drum it would be quieter.

My head hurt so bad I didn't want to open my eyes. The snoring right beside my face made me groan. "Ava, no."

Her body moved beside me. "Shush, baby. Let me sleep."

My arm ached; she must have slept on it. I had to move. I didn't want to because it felt so good, her body all hot and cuddly. Her arm lazily flopped over my chest.

It wasn't just my arm though, my bladder was bursting; I needed a pee.

As I slipped out from her arms, and swung my legs out of bed, my eyes cracked open and the light burned. "Where the fuck am I?" I mumbled through a yawn. Looking around, I remembered nothing. In the bed was a sensationally gorgeous young girl. That's what she was, a girl. "Holy fuck."

I stood up and walked naked into the bathroom. The relief was instantaneous. It didn't help my head or my memory, though.

Walking back into the bedroom, the girl was sitting up, her weight supported on her elbows. "Hey, Ian."

"Sorry, this is going to sound awful, but. Who are you and where are we?" I said guiltily.

She giggled. "Wow, you really were smashed, aye?"

"Yeah, I guess so. This is embarrassing. I don't even know your name."

"It's Leeza." She said with a giggly titter.

"I'm sorry Leeza. I feel bad for asking this, but what happened last night?"

"We had some drinks, a lot of drinks, actually. We danced, we laughed, and we made love. Fuck dude, I feel bad, that you don't remember. It was a pretty amazing night. You have got one hell of a tongue."

I flopped in the bed. Embarrassment flooding my senses and I let my head fall into my hands.

"I'm sorry, Leeza."

"Don't be. It was a wild night, and it was fun. At least I had a blast."

Staring at the floor, there were three used condoms. That was one blessing, I guess.

"Ian, it's okay, babe You told me your whole story last night. I know what happened and why you were out on the loose. I don't have any expectations, although breakfast would be nice."

I chuckled softly. "Yeah, breakfast would be nice. So would a plate full of panadol."

"There's a packet by the microwave," she said as she walked past me, naked, her cute little boobies bouncing joyously as she sauntered past.

"How old are you, Leeza?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Twenty," she said with a cute giggle.

Oh Jesus Christ. She's the same age as my daughter. "You must have been really drunk. Surely you could do better than a forty-seven-year-old loser."

"Babe," she gushed walking back into the bedroom. "Stop apologising. Last night was a blast. I loved every moment of it."

"That's something I guess," I mumbled.

She laughed loudly before dragging me into the shower, where she unashamedly kissed and soaped me up using her body as a sponge. God, who could resist that, especially with my emotions in turmoil. It was torrid, passionate, with her breasts crushed against the tiled wall, my cock buried into her boiling hot vagina. She moaned passionately as I fucked her that hard I lifted her off her feet. Afterwards, I felt the embarrassment flood me once more.

She was intuitive, though, and as she helped me towel dry, she said, "C'mon, let's go out for breakfast."

As we ate, she talked. She told me she was studying business management and accounting at Uni. When I told her about Rhian, she giggled, telling me I already told her all that the previous night.

We talked about my circumstance, and she said, "Ian, I know you're mad right now, and that's probably why you went home with me last night. You obviously still love your wife. The way you talked last night, I believe you do. However, if you decide you feel like company, I would enjoy a repeat performance."

She programmed her number in my phone and kissed me. As we went our separate ways, she called out, "Call me, and don't wait to long."

That afternoon as I dozed off and on. My phone buzzed. "What do you want, Ava? I thought we agreed you'd wait for my call."

"Ian, this is ridiculous. We both know you would never hurt a fly. We need to talk. I know you are mad, and you have every right to be. But we have to work through a solution, you have to let me apologise and explain. I'm sick of this blasted hotel. I want to come home."

"That's the problem, Ava. This doesn't feel like your home any more. There is no us. I've been to see a solicitor and he's advised me on how to proceed."

"Oh for heaven's sake, Ian. At least give me a chance... We have had such a wonderful marriage. Can we not at least discuss this?"

"What's to talk about, Ava? Were you having sex with that bloke when I knocked on your door?"

The phone went silent. I sensed her fumbling for words. "Be honest with me, Ava. No more lies. Were you having sex?"

"Yes, all right. We were."

"I got the impression that wasn't the first time. Is that also true?"

"Yes, look. Can I please come home. I do not want to have this conversation over the phone. We should do this face to face."

Resigned to the fact there was no escape, I muttered. "Yeah, okay. I'm about to go for a run. Come out in an hour or so."

The run was painful. Even after a handful of panadol, my head still pounded. When I got back home, Ava's car was in the driveway.

Walking in was like old times. I smelt the Parmigiana as soon as I walked in. Say what you would about Ava, she was a fabulous cook. It was one of the many skills she developed when she became a mother.

When the kids were born, she gave up her job, which she loved, to become a full-time stay-at-home Mum. Up until then, cooking had not been on her list, but she grew into it. She was as good as, or maybe better than, most of the chefs you see on TV.

Actually, Ava had stunned me when the kids were born. She threw herself into the role of Mum. She worked hard, cared for and nurtured them. They went everywhere together. Kindergarten, preschool, she was there. The kids idolised her as I focused on my business and tried to keep food on the table.

All of her friends were in awe of her. She never missed anything.

"Hello, Ian." she said, smiling, her arms opening for a hug. I pushed her aside, not hard but firmly. "What are you doing, Ava?"

She pouted irritated at being pushed aside. "I thought since you were going for a run, you obviously hadn't eaten, so I cooked us dinner. I know this is one of your favourites."

With a deep sigh, I said, "I'm going to have a shower."

When I got back out, she had the table set and it smelled absolutely delicious.

We sat down opposite each other the way we always had. Now, all I wanted to do was reach across the table and throttle her, watch the last vestiges of life drain from her eyes.

As we ate, she asked, "Can we please have an adult discussion about what happened?"

"Don't we always?"

"No, not recently," she grumbled.

After a brief silence, she said, "I'm so terribly sorry you found out in that manner. It must have been horrid for you." When I didn't respond, she added, "I'm sorry I hurt you, Ian. It was never my intention. I hate that you're in this much pain."

"What the hell did you expect? What about the affair, Ava, are you sorry for that?"

Surprisingly, she shook her head as she played with her food. "No, this will sound harsh, but I'm not sorry for my relationship with Reed. I know that sounds cruel; however, I think it has been good for me, and good for us, you and me. So no. In that regard, I'm not sorry. I am, however, very sorry for not being honest with you right from the start. That is what I am truly sorry for."

"Unbelievable." I snarled angrily. "That is your apology? Before she could speak, I hissed. "Slut"

Her face darkened, her scowl a picture of grim determination. "Ian, I am no slut. I have never had sex with random people. I might have deceived you, cheated. That I will accept, but I am no slut. I know you were merely trying to hurt me, but don't you dare ever... Call me that again."

After letting that sink in, she continued. "I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry for deceiving you, for not being honest. I was a coward, I was so scared of losing you. I made a conscious decision to make sure you never found out."

"So you would have just kept fucking him? Taking your dirty little secret to the grave?"

"Yes, that was my plan." She didn't even flinch, her eyes staying focused on mine.

"What about the lies, are you at least sorry for those?" I hissed sarcastically.

"I never lied to you, Ian. Not once. I may have been deceitful, but I never lied."

"Fucking bullshit," I snarled so loudly she jumped, startled. "You lied by omission. By not telling me, you lied."

She grimaced, but said nothing. "How long has it been going on?" I hissed.

Her eyes met mine and the determination was plainly visible. "I met Reed about two years ago, although we only started the sexual element of our relationship six months ago."

"Two years, god all bloody mighty. What a trusting bloody fool I was."

"Ian, listen too me. We have only been having sex for six months."

"You said two years, make up your mind Ava."

"I met Reed, two years ago, we have met many times just to talk. We flirted, but that's all."

"Whatever... It was more than once. After that nothing matters."

"When you think about it logically Ian, up until you found out. The affair did not harm our marriage. I never disrespected you. I never neglected you, I have been nothing but supportive and loving."

"What... How the hell can you say that? Jesus, Ava. You were fucking another bloke for two years behind my back."

"Six months, actually," she replied calmly.

I just shook my head in disbelief. I just wished the damn food wasn't so nice. My plate was almost empty.

"How many others have there been?"

"Since our engagement, Reed, is the only man I have been with sexually apart from you."

"How often did you see him?"

"Once a month at best, although usually it was every other month. We were only able to meet when our travel requirements coincided, and our arrangements allowed."

"He's not married then?"

"Oh yes. He is married to a lovely woman. They have an open marriage."

"Oh, for Pete's sake. You didn't fall for that old line did you? Good god, woman. That's what all players say. My wife doesn't understand me, or we have an open marriage."

"You're wrong, my love. I met Jodi, his wife, several times."

"You met her? Oh Jesus. Don't tell me?"

"No, you damned fool. Of course not, although if I was going to, she would be my first choice. She is startlingly lovely."

"Well, I'm not sure what to say. Thanks at least for being honest... Finally."

"Ian, this affair. It wasn't bad for us, you and I. In many ways it improved our marriage."

"Bloody hell, you did not just say that did you? For the love of god Ava."

She nodded her head, as she sipped her Merlot. "Think about it, Ian my love. The last year has been absolutely fabulous. I have heard you bragging to all of our friends. You have said to me on many occasions that our sex life has gotten better and better. Be honest, tell me that isn't so."

I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to say otherwise, refute her statement... Unfortunately I had been analysing our marriage a lot over the last week, it was the one thing I didn't understand. "Yes, okay, I freely admit, our sex life has been very good. Which makes me ask, why start fucking around with him... Why?"

She gulped down the last of her wine, holding the empty glass out for a refill. "Actually, you have it back to front. The affair, is the reason our sex life improved, became reinvigorated. It awakened me, stimulated me and that flowed into our marriage."

Seeing my disbelief, she carried on. "As for why did it start? I asked myself the same question. I suppose vanity, really. He was young, handsome. He smothered me with compliments and flattery, took me out for dinner, for lunches. He was attracted to me in the most animalistic way. I fought him off at first. I convinced myself I would just enjoy all of the benefits, the meals and compliments. Then I would send him on his way."

"Then what happened?"

She sighed, took a deep breath and replied. "I became attracted to him. I found myself daydreaming about him. When he told me about his open marriage, I didn't believe him. The next time we went for dinner, he brought along his wife Jodi, and she confirmed their marital status."

"And what, you just fell into his bed?"

"Yes, I suppose that sums it up. He was a breath of fresh air, Ian. I was feeling old and frumpy. There was a wonderfully charming handsome man busting my door down. It was the shot in the arm I needed. It woke me up in so many ways."