An Island Restaurant on the Beach

I, Jenny Todd, have been married to Ben Todd for five years. I would like to say I am a proud feminist and like Eleanor my maiden name was the same as my husband's, but I traditionally took his name. We missed our State University graduation ceremony for our honeymoon. The honeymoon was great, but after attending Ben's Masters Degree graduation in 93 degree weather and 100% humidity, I realized that any excuse not to attend a graduation is a good one. We both have good jobs. I am an accountant for a nationally recognized company, and Ben is a sales executive. With two good incomes and no kids, we have enjoyed nice hotels on both weekend and vacation trips. Our idyllic marriage is going to change; we are going to try to get me pregnant within the next few months.

I have never traveled for my job. Four times a year, once each season, Ben spends a 4 day weekend away at a conference. He attends meetings to keep current in his field, but most of the time he is on the exhibit floor trying to impress clients.

There are mostly women on the floor I work on. The few men are generally married and faithful. There's Harry Hooper, however. Dirty Harry has bedded most of our single women, and more than a few of the married ones. Harry never bragged, not a word. But single women talk, and even a few of the married. His equipment is supposedly above average but not outlandish. Harry gets top grades for a one time experience. No one believes that he will ever commit.

Unfortunately on Monday, I whispered to a friend that this was Ben's conference weekend. I could have shouted because I swear it was around the room faster than the speed of sound. By 10 AM, Harry asked me to dinner on Friday.

"I am married. I don't date."

"Not a date; just dinner between friends."

"Agree to disagree."

On Thursday morning Ben left for his conference. It was so quiet when I got home after work that evening, I was taken aback and surprisingly sad. Friday at work:

"Harry, I will accept your definition of not a date, and if the offer is still on, I will have dinner with you, Dutch."

"For you I will change my schedule, but I get to pick the restaurant."

"Okay, but call when you reach my house. I'll meet you at your car."

"Don't trust me in your house? I'm shocked, shocked. Wear something you can dance in, the restaurant has a band. I will pick you up at six. Be ready, we need to be on time for our reservation. The restaurant is in high demand."

On Fridays we get to leave work at 4 PM. So I had time to shower and dress for dinner. I was surprised how careful I was in selecting my outfit. Was I deluding myself in believing it was not a date.

Harry leaped out of his car and was half way to my front door when I locked the door. He opened the car door for me and we were off. Ten minutes later when we were on the expressway, he said, "The restaurant is on an island; we have to catch the ferry."

I could have complained that he should have told me about such a complicated arrangement in advance, but I was intrigued and said nothing. We caught the seven o'clock ferry and I had been enjoying the ride on the water for about a quarter of an hour before I thought to ask about the return. "We have reservations on the midnight ferry." Our "just dinner" was going to last more than seven hours. For the first time I wondered if I could really handle Harry.

When we arrived at the dock, we were greeted by a large bank of lockers. Harry informed me, "It is all on the beach; no shoes allowed. You might be more comfortable losing the stockings as well. The sand won't do them any good."

I was wearing pantyhose. Fortunately, I had panties under them. I stowed my heels and pantyhose in the locker, hopefully not revealing too much in the process. The restaurant was a large tent on the beach with the sides open in the lovely weather. The sides could be closed in the rain. There was no floor, the tables were in the sand. Luxuriating with my bare toes in the sand was so much better than contending with heels all night that I could appreciate the no shoes policy. Harry brought a knapsack to the table. "Sweaters, it can get cold by the ocean at night."

The band was not in the restaurant at all, but just outside it on the beach. A few couples were dancing on the beach. Inside the tent was reserved for tables. Harry had pre-ordered the wine, so there was a bottle of Sancerre on the table. We each had a glass to start, and after ordering Harry asked for a dance until the appetizers arrived. It was a moderately fast tune so I couldn't think of a reason not to comply. It was an unique experience dancing on the beach in my bare feet, so even though the next song was slow, we continued dancing. You dance close to a slow tune, and even though Harry did nothing that a gentleman wouldn't, I was surprised to the extent that I was stimulated. After all this was just dinner, not a date.

We split the appetizers, oysters Rockefeller and escargot. While waiting for the main course, we returned to dancing on the beach. The band was now playing exclusively romantic songs, so the dancing was close. After the third dance, before returning to our table, he kissed me. It wasn't a French kiss, but more than just friends. I didn't return the kiss, but I didn't push Harry away either.

We also split our entrees, sautéed scallops and prime rib, medium well. It was as delicious as any meal I ever had. Of course, Sancerre before and after. I wasn't drunk, but was feeling no pain. We would have to wait for our dessert soufflés.

Harry took my hand and grabbed the knapsack. "Let me show you the best part of this place."About a quarter mile away from the restaurant, he pulled a blanket from the knapsack and sat me down behind a dune. "Look up, with the city lights gone, you can see the view that fascinated the ancients to create the understanding of the measurement of time and science in general. The night sky is gorgeous, and lost to the lights of city dwellers." I lay back on the blanket and was mesmerized by the sky show.

It took longer than it should for me to realize Harry was kissing me. If I had pushed him off, or even said no, he would have stopped. Instead I returned the kiss. Normally I close my eyes when I kiss. I read in a dentist office that you should keep your eyes open during a dental procedure. Eyesight takes up 75% of your brain, and opening your eyes, leaves less for feeling. You don't want to feel your dentist's work. Contrarily, closing your eyes during sex will increase your sense of touch. This was the exception. The sky was providing natural fireworks for his kiss. When he lightly touched my nipples, my mouth said nothing, but my breasts stiffened. His hand caressed my femininity through my panties. No means no with a push or minimally when said firmly. My no was more of a question.

"Your panties are wet, you'll get chafed." When he started to remove them, I actually raised my hips. He knew what to do with his fingers, and I was soon open to him. He had already entered me when he asked, "What kind of birth control do you use?"

"A diaphragm, I don't want to deal with hormones. It is not in, I'm unprotected."

"Have you had unprotected sex with your husband, anyone? When did you have your last period?"

"No one, a week ago. We have to stop."

"No, love is best when you offer everything."

I still didn't push him off. I was lost in the feelings, and joined in the motion. When he exploded into me, I held on tight. By time I felt I had any self-control, he had hardened again, started a second session, I was allowing anything. I came off my third orgasm and started crying, "You bastard, I've cheated on my husband, my marriage is over. You may have inseminated me. You have ruined my life."

When he spoke, I just listened. "On the first part, I have never actually seen my parent's wedding license, so maybe. I don't look hugely different from your husband. If you're pregnant, he should not suspect anything. Your life will not change. We will discuss the specifics later."

He put his arm around my shoulder and by the time we returned to the restaurant, I was more composed. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed the chocolate soufflé with of course more Sancerre.

It was now time for the ferry return trip. I dozed on his shoulder, maybe it was the emotion, maybe the wine. When we arrived at my home, he parked and walked me to the door. As I took out my keys, he took them from me, and guided me into the living room. It seemed that the time for complaining was long passed. I didn't even know if I wanted to complain. He stripped me and took me on my marriage bed. I was still unprotected. He awoke me in the morning with another coupling.

He told me, "We will have breakfast, you will make the coffee and I'll make the eggs. After breakfast, we will discuss how we go from here. It will be better than you think."

I made my special coffee, half and half, a small scoop of ice cream, and two ingredients that I will never disclose. He found things in my fridge that I didn't know I had. His scrambled eggs included bacon, cheese and both fruit and vegetables. "I find omelets too dry, I much prefer scrambled."

After breakfast, Harry was all business.

"You will have unprotected sex with Ben when he returns from the conference. If you are pregnant, you will have the baby. You give me a couple of the baby's hairs, and if it is mine, I'll take part in its support, though you and your husband will raise it. For the support, we'll set up a fund at Schwab. I will contribute monthly to a municipal bond fund. I much prefer investing in stocks, but your husband would find out at tax time. Triple tax free is the way we have to go. We will have Schwab send the monthly reports to me. You can review them at my apartment whenever you want. I suggest you do it at least quarterly when your husband has his conference."

I said nothing. I really don't know if it was because I had become so submissive to him, or I simply didn't have a better idea. He kissed me on the cheek, and left. I'm now an unfaithful wife, and I will continue to deceive my husband. It will be harder to like what I see in the mirror, but it's the best way I can see to go forward. My only victory, I got Harry to commit to something.

Epilogue:

Lash2718r here, I believe as an author that the above is a complete story. As a reader however I am in the finish the damn story camp. I want the author to finish it for me. So for those who agree with the reader, Jenny will continue:

I missed my next period. The three sticks I peed on all said, "yes." Ben was ecstatic. Me, not so much, and it wasn't just the morning sickness. I gave Harry my son's hairs. A week later, he set up a generous municipal bond fund in my name. I didn't visit Harry every month to check on my fund, only about six times per year. Ben and I raised 4 kids. Harry set up another bond fund for my youngest daughter. Somehow I found anonymous scholarship funds for my oldest son and youngest daughter to prestigious private colleges. The others did just fine at the state university. They are 2 lawyers, an accountant, and an engineer.

I am now approaching 65. With my colleagues, I have just returned from Harry's funeral. I hope to spend more than the next thirty years in a loving exclusive relationship with Ben. Was the angst and guilt worth the forbidden fruit? I would say it is about even, with an edge to the forbidden fruit. Cheaters are not always caught.