Affair

My therapist told me writing this would help me heal, so I'm putting it into words and posting this on an anonymous site, even though many years have passed since it happened. I have no idea if anyone will read it, but then it's written for me, and not a general audience. If you do read it and learn something from it, then maybe it was worth it.

..........................................................................

I had an affair.

I cheated on my husband three times before my lover and I got careless and were caught. He didn't catch us, thank God. It would have destroyed him. Well, it would have destroyed him even more. It ended up destroying our marriage anyway, but at least he had no visual.

No, we got caught by a coworker. One who resented our success and didn't hesitate to knock us off our pedestals.

It wasn't like I went looking for it to happen. My therapist has finally gotten me to understand nothing 'just happens'. You make choices every day of your life and the consequences alter your life from that point on. She taught me one makes choices, whether or not one consciously recognizes them.

So I had an affair. I'd like to say I was drunk or drugged, but the first time I'd had three glasses of wine the whole evening. He was very nice looking, and we had flirted lightly back and forth for almost a year. It evolved that we were on the same team, often doing projects together. We even joked about being 'work spouses' to our significant others when we were all together and everyone laughed.

My husband grinned. "Good. As official work husband, I pass the expense of her shoe fetish on to you."

His wife got into the banter with us. "Yes, and I pass the training of learning to leave the toilet seat down to you. We expect regular progress reports."

We all laughed and hugged before we left the party. Hubby told me how much he liked them on the way home, and maybe we should invite them into our circle. They had just moved here and were eager to make friends, and we subsequently spent many pleasant evenings with them and our other friends, who accepted them without reservation.

I will not bore you with physical descriptions like how big my breasts are or how well hung he was. What does it really matter? We were young, in good shape, fairly attractive, and let it go at that. And I will absolutely not talk about the sex. My husband was the oldest at thirty, the rest of us in our late twenties.

I had a good job, getting it straight out of college and working my way up. Over the years, I'd had several promotions, and the old man (he was 70) who owned the company often told me I was the daughter he wished he'd had.

I became a team leader, something that required one night away on the average of every two months. I hated it, but hubby said it wasn't a big deal. I left on Thursday morning, spent the afternoon and the next morning in meetings, and was usually home by four. We used to make love like we'd been apart for weeks when I got home, but as it became routine, it cooled.

It wasn't like we were bored with each other. We were young and enjoyed making love three to four times a week, on average. Sometimes if we were really busy, it may go down to once a week, but as soon as we had the opportunity, we tried to catch up. We dated for eight months and lived together for almost a year before we married. We were together for three and a half years as a married couple.

The sex came about after a pretty intense round of meetings, and we were both keyed up. We had dinner together and split a bottle a wine. Oddly enough, the chief topic was about how much we missed our spouses and some of the future activities we had planned together as couples. A comment was made, and agreed with on how that when we were as keyed up as we were, sex with our spouses was the preferred means of decompression. I remember it being said, but I can't remember whether it was me or him that said it.

Then it turned to light flirting, innuendos, and small touches. He joked that as work spouses, we should take up the slack of our real spouses. I admit it; he was handsome and always had the right words, something which made him invaluable on my team. We ramped it up, but in the end we went to our rooms alone.

I was thinking about him as I lay in bed touching myself, using him for fantasy fodder, when there was a knock on my door. I put on my robe and opened it to find him standing there with a bottle of wine and two glasses. We never finished the first glass before we were all over each other. In short order, we were on my bed, coupling frantically. Neither of us lasted long, but we lay there and caressed and cuddled until it was time for round two. He left me at three in the morning. I collapsed back into bed and slept like a rock.

I woke up at seven feeling like I was suffocating, literally gasping for breath. I had cheated on my husband! Shoved my vows into a dark corner of my mind and rutted like an animal. I probably took the longest shower of my life, trying to wash what I'd done away.

He was subdued as well, barely meeting my eyes in our morning round of meetings. We were seriously ineffective that day. We didn't even sit together on the plane home.

We danced around each other for two weeks before he came into my office and shut the door. We talked for forty-five minutes. He apologised for coming on to me, and I apologised for taking him up on his offer. We agreed it was a one off and we would take the secret to our graves.

That lasted for six months. We had put the past behind us; I thought. I know I felt as low as humanly possible for about a month until hubby asked me point blank what was bothering me. Almost fainting, I recovered and told him it was work related (not technically a lie) but I had resolved it, and the problem was a thing of the past. He frowned and then almost broke my heart. "I'm going to call X and tell him to keep a closer eye on you. After all, if it was his wife and I could, I'd do the same."

Six months later it was Christmas time, and we were stuck for two days in a Northern town because of one of their biggest blizzards in history. Hubby and I talked a couple times a day, and he told me to let my work husband keep me entertained. He told me he and Mrs. X were going to the theater together to see the show I had been waiting for all year. He could tell I was upset. "If it bothers you, we won't go. I'll give the tickets to her. Maybe her sister can go."

I recovered enough to tell him it was fine, but he owed me a big surprise for next Christmas. He agreed and said he was already working on it. X and I commiserated, and he complained about how much his wife liked my husband. "It's always 'Look how considerate he is. It must be nice to be treated like a queen. Did I tell you about the delicate necklace he bought her just because he saw it and thought how good it looked on her?' "

I unconsciously rubbed the necklace, smiling at the joy it had given me. It was a total surprise, not my birthday, not Christmas, just because "A neck as sensuous as yours deserves this. It will highlight the smoothness and perfection of your skin."

He was not perfect and had minor flaws that aggravated me to no end. Then I would see other couples in our group, how the women envied me and the men either admired him or were disgusted because he kept the bar so high. Then I'd just smile and hold his arm a little tighter.

The upshot was we got drunk and ended up screwing for two days. We were still at it when they called my room to tell us the airport was now open and we could go home. We showered together, sat together on the plane, and swore that while we enjoyed it immensely, it would absolutely never ever happen again. Four months later, we got caught.

I know you want to know about the sex. It was sex between two young, healthy adults. Yes, it was good. Was it worth the price? No.

....................................................

Without going into detail, the fallout was tremendous. My boss called us both in separately. He was almost in tears when he saw me. "I can't tell you how disappointed I am in you. You were the best of the best. I always admired your marriage. I thought it looked a lot like mine when the wife and I first started our journey together. Do you still have a husband?"

I nodded, not bothering to hide my tears. Yes, I was still married, even if I hadn't seen my husband in two weeks.

"Good. He was a fine man. I hope he has in his heart to forgive you. I have to protect my business, and cannot be as forgiving. You still have your job, but your days as team leader are over. You will never travel representing this company again, or represent it publicly. Do you understand?"

I nodded, grateful I still had a job. I knew, though, that my days were numbered at his company. My star would never rise higher than I was right now. Somewhere down the road, I would have to dust off my resume, and hope he gave me a reasonable recommendation.

X didn't fare so well. He left quietly in return for a reasonable recommendation. I was sure it was carefully written, "Mr. X has excellent communication skills, works well with others, blah, blah, blah." I knew, though, that if any of my boss's friends considered hiring him, a quiet word would pass and the old boy network would kick in. I sincerely believed that if we'd spoke, we would both have apologised for ruining each other's lives. We didn't, though, our boss and spouses made sure of that. My husband, who I never heard raise his voice, told X in no uncertain terms that when he finally found him, he would wish he had killed him, because it would be a miserable, painful life from then on. X believed him and left for parts unknown as soon as his divorce was final.

He left behind a devastated wife and five-year-old son. I think it took her years to recover. Eight years went by before she married again, to an older man who dotes on her and her son. He asked the son what kind of car he would like for his sixteenth birthday and broke down when the boy told him that what he would value more than a car would be the use of his last name. So with a stroke of a pen X was removed from his life forever, and his new dad got him a top of the line sports car, despite his mother's objections. X never saw his son again after he left, even though his wife tried to find him to remind him she had divorced him, but their son hadn't.

I found my life suddenly divided into segments; eras, if you will. There was my life BTA (Before The Affair) and ATA (After The Affair). I remember BTA being full of light and happiness, and ATA being filled with grayness and despair. Mercifully, ATA didn't span near the time BTA did.

Then it became time to choose sides. Other couples had broken up in our normally tight little circle, and the remaining couples didn't know how to handle it. Who do we invite to the BBQ, the nights out, and the nights in? Gone were the casual flirtations and innuendoes, afraid it would trigger terrible memories for the ones who were still around. I was kind of glad when we sold the house and went in different directions. I'm sure the other couples gave a sigh of relief, just not in front of us.

The women in the circle were sympathetic to my plight, offering me support while making sure I didn't get close to their husbands. After all, I had already broken up one marriage that was happy, and there was no need to tempt fate. X fared even worse, the men were supportive while making damn sure he never ever came close to an intimate setting with their wives.

There was a lot more support for hubby and Mrs. X. After all, they were the wronged ones, right? It wasn't their fault they found themselves in the mess their lives had become.

Then I had to move to the TTP/FF phase. Tell The Parents, Friends, and Family. I disappointed both sets, but both forgave me even though my marriage didn't survive. I still send his parents' Christmas cards and a gift on their birthdays. They always send cards back to me, and after a few years, his parents would ask me to visit them if I came into town. I never went, but thanked them warmly for their kindness.

The first casualty in the ATA era was our love life. We used to tease, tantalize, make slow languid love or rut like animals as the mood took us. It took three weeks for hubby to move back in, and another six before we attempted any intimacy. It was a total disaster. We were both afraid, him of being compared to X and be found lacking, me of doing the wrong thing and triggering terrible memories.

As the months passed, it got better, mostly. We would try to pleasure each other when I would feel his body just shut down. I understood at first but grew to resent it towards the end. Couldn't he see how hard I was trying? How much I loved him?

We went through counseling, and it helped. It helped us to realize we were over. I'd broken his trust, and no matter how hard I tried, how much I worked to mend his heart, the wound was just too great.

So in the year 1.5 ATA, we were no more. The divorce wasn't contentious, just a straight split right down the middle. I didn't even cry when I got the final papers. We would see each other from time to time because our town wasn't very large. We would always greet each other and be civil, but that was it. I remember how heartbroken I was in the year 4 ATA when I glanced through a cafe window downtown and saw him with a woman. She was smiling, sitting close, giving him intimate touches that every woman recognizes as ones reserved for a lover. I went home and cried my eyes out for the last time.

I cast resumes far and wide and got an offer from a firm two states away. It was a good sized step up and just what I needed. I told the friends I had left goodbye, kissed my parents, and moved on.

Chapter 3

Now I moved into the ATD (After The Divorce) era.

I thought about the counselor I'd seen for a few months after the divorce. She really helped me. Not by being sympathetic or casting blame, mostly just listening. On our next-to-last session, she surprised me by lifting her blouse out of her skirt and pulling it down a little. There was a pretty big scar on the side of her hip. She straightened her clothes and sighed.

"We were young, sixteen and seventeen thereabouts, and my friend had gotten her older brother to get us some booze. It was mostly liquor, so it wasted us pretty fast. We had gone deep into the woods to keep out of sight and started a fire when it got dark. Not that big, and one thing led to another and then to dares, so one boy jumped the fire. Soon we were egging each other on and we were all doing it. I was on my fifth jump when I stumbled and landed on the embers on my side. I was in the hospital for three weeks and this scar will never go away."

"I realized after I got my degree that it was a conscious decision I made to jump the fire. The more I did it, the easier it got until I got careless. This scar is my price. The point I'm trying to make here is that you made a conscious decision to have sex with a man outside your marriage, and when nothing happened, when you realized you could get away with it, you did it again and again until you got caught."

She paused a little before continuing, repeating herself. "You did it again and again until you got careless and got caught. Understand? You can't rationalize it away as a spur-of-the-moment situation. You choice to continue meant that even though you had jumped the fire a few times and felt safe, eventually you stumbled and fell. The scars you carry are on the inside, and they will never go away, but they will fade as time goes by. The next time you have to make a choice, remember to scratch your scars."

I thought about that a lot over the next week before realizing she was right. I could have blamed it on X. He showed up at my door, but he didn't force his way in and everything that happened once the door closed behind him was a mutual decision. Just as the subsequent times were a simple decision on my part.

So here I was. Divorced for four years now. I heard through family that hubby had found someone new. They had been married for a year and have a brand new son.

I started dating about six months after the divorce, but there was no spark with any of them. I admit I did occasionally take one to bed, just to get my needs met. Right after the last one left, I lay in my bed looking back on my life and realized I had to let the past go if I was ever going to be happy again. I got out of the bars and the meat markets, joined a gym, got involved in community activities. As soon as I was fit enough, I did 5 and 10k races. I never once finished in the top ten, but I made a lot of friends.

One fellow runner and I got along so well we trained together. Training led to coffee afterwards, then lunches, then dinners. We had dated four months before he let me into his bed. He was so attentive and caring that I cried after the first time. We were going strong four months later, and he was hinting about going up a level when I told him why I was single.

I wanted him to see me as I had been, and how I was now. I assured him I had been faithful to him from the first date, that the mistakes I'd made in my past were just that, mistakes. Mistakes I had had no intention of repeating. I didn't know it, but he had been married before, and divorced when he caught her having multiple affairs. In his head 'once a cheater always a cheater' was written in stone, and the relationship died. I mourned for a while but moved on.

I found out the next year that God did indeed forgive us for our sins. More importantly, I found a man who could forgive mine. He was older by seven years, but was lean and fit. We met at a race, both crossing the finish line at the same time. I was so happy I had finished I did a little victory dance, lost my footing on the uneven pavement, plowed into him, and we both went down.

Instead of being upset, he laughed! I landed on top of him, and we were nose to nose for a minute. I tried to apologise, and he grinned. "You know, if you wanted my attention, you could have smiled, maybe flirted a little. Tackling was a bit much. However, I will forgive you over dinner tomorrow night. I hope you like French food. "

He handed me a card out of his gym bag. "Call me and tell what time works best for you. It's a bit of an upper end establishment, so wear a nice dress." I was still trying to form coherent words when he cupped my face in his hands and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. Then he was gone.

My running buddies were laughing hysterically. "That didn't take long, did it? If I knew tackling a man would get him interested, I'd have given that hunky vendor a beat-down the first time he stopped by. Good going, girl. Did you know he's ranked the fourth highest desirable bachelor in the city? No? Well, good luck."

The restaurant lived up to its billing. He was casually but sharply dressed in what had to be very expensive clothes, and the tie had to be pure silk. I had on my best dress, one that I had gotten at a tremendous discount because they ripped the hem. One of my hobbies was sewing, so I removed the tear by cutting it out and raising the hemline by a little better than an inch. I thought it enhanced my legs and I must have been right the way my date was looking at them.

The date went well, and so did the next ones spanning an eight-month period. He was fit, attractive, and I had lustful thoughts I hadn't felt in years. It was more than lust; it was turning into love. I hadn't felt so happy after making love since before BTA. It broke my heart, but I was truthful. He heard me out, handing me tissues and rubbing my shoulders as I cried. I tried to gauge his expression, and he seemed...amused a bit.

"I'll understand if you don't want to see me. I'm not above telling you I've developed powerful feelings for you, and that if you continue to see me and it goes farther, I will sign any document, accept any prenuptial agreement you offer, if it means being with you."