Betrayal - Gerri's Story

One week we had a half day at work. The management team were going for some training or other about staff morale, something we agreed they needed, and they decided to make a start by giving us that time off. I think it was the afternoon they were receiving the consultancy's feedback. I didn't tell Alexander. Was that the moment I knew that I was going to move closer to Ken?

I offered Ken a lift to, and from, work that day. He smiled. That morning, while dressing, I found myself looking for my sexiest knickers. I didn't have anything risqué as Alexander and I hadn't gone much for dressing up in recent years - and the old ones at the back of the drawer no longer fitted. I had nothing like the flimsy ones, for younger women, I saw in the stores but I did have a couple of pairs with a bit more lace. I realised that my body was trying to tell me what my mind hadn't realised. That I wanted to be prepared for what might happen with Ken.

That afternoon, Ken offered tea and Rich Tea biscuits as expected. Before he put the kettle on, we were sitting on the sofa and he put his arm round me. I leant into him. He held me a bit tighter and started to sob gently, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. I put my arms round him and we kissed. I'm not sure who made that first move but what followed was mutual. He sat back a little and said something about how nice my blouse was. He reached forwards and gently undid the top button. I didn't move so he undid the second. Then it was hands over clothes. Buttons undone. Hands under clothes. Hooks released. Zips unzipped. It all flowed slowly and very naturally. It was unplanned but we were both ready. Ken asked me if I would be more comfortable in the bedroom. I nodded; I was too involved to speak. I'd like to say that he carried me there, but he wasn't strong enough so we walked there, hand in hand, after he nearly tripped on his trousers.

Afterwards I didn't feel guilty. It hadn't seemed anything strange or unnatural. We gathered our clothes, re-dressed, and I tidied up my hair. We smiled at one another and Ken asked me if I would like that cup of tea now. As there was no rush, I agreed, and he made a fresh pot. When I arrived home, it all felt the same as always, unchanged. Alexander didn't ask me how my day went. I didn't want to prompt him, or lie to him, so I didn't ask about his either.

Nothing really changed. There no girls' nights out, my fellow workers didn't associate out of work. There were no sudden evening classes to be attended. I didn't join a gym. Ken and I met now and again for sex over the next few months. It was soon just another routine, back to his flat, tea and biscuits and then to the bedroom. Despite that, I suppose that I saw it as my bit of excitement. Alexander and I went on much as before, communicating superficially and having routine sex once every week or two. Nothing changed in bed, I didn't pick up any new tips from Ken. Ken is not better looking, not bigger, not better endowed, not fitter, and, objectively, "not as good" in bed. He didn't know his way round my body. He was different and he wasn't Alexander.

I didn't feel guilty for having sex with both Ken and Alexander. Nor did I feel guilty for undermining my marriage because I didn't think that I was. With hindsight, I suppose that I was compartmentalising them. Ken was "work", Alexander was "home" and "never the twain shall meet". I didn't even think that I could have it all, I just went with the flow. One day I realised that Ken had removed a few more of the pictures of his dead wife and that we had stopped talking about how he was managing as a widower. He was leaving her behind and getting more serious about me. We both knew.

I didn't want to upset the stable life that I had built for myself with both men. I wasn't desperate for frequent sex so I was satisfied. Alexander was happy, in his own way, as life continued a s normal. I think that Ken would have liked to see me more often but he didn't want to rock the boat. He was very aware of my need for stability and predictably. I certainly didn't want my life to turn into my parents' one.

On that day when the wall between my compartments was breached, we were meeting at my home for the first time. We did this because there were builders and decorators at Ken's block of flats and the smell and noise would have spoilt our cuppa and our time together. I don't think that it was a step forward in our relationship. It was just handier. Alexander's work patterns were set in stone so I didn't even consider there might be a risk. Ken had suggested it and it did seem to make sense. A cheap hotel would have felt too seedy, and too deliberate. A different time of day was impossible because of work. Evenings would have felt like a betrayal of Alexander as that was when we were home together or when we went out for a meal or a gig; plenty of '80s tribute bands after all. I was still in denial. So, my house it was.

We had our usual cuppa when we arrived. I washed it up. Alexander was systematic, but even he didn't count the biscuits (as far as I knew). It wouldn't have felt right using our bedroom so I led Ken to Matthew's. Both children had decent sized rooms and they both had queen size beds. We had made ourselves comfortable and started having sex. I hadn't realised until then that Matthew's bed creaked.

We didn't hear the door. The first hint of a problem was when I heard Alexander shout "I'm home". I immediately stopped Ken, tricky, as he was close to his orgasm, and I hushed him and told him to hide behind the bed. I went quickly, but quietly to my bedroom and grabbed some woolly pyjamas. I shouted down that I was resting and would be down in a moment. I pulled back the duvet on my side of the bed and went down, trying to look groggy. I stepped into the living room and told him that I had come home early as I felt unwell. Alexander was sitting at the table and I sat down opposite. We looked at one another and he said something stupid, like "Why don't you introduce us?" as if he was talking about a casual acquaintance we had run into in a shop. I just looked at him in confusion and burst into tears. I went partway up the stairs and shouted at Ken to leave now. He had already got dressed so he came down as quietly as he could and slipped out of the front door. I didn't introduce him.

I was far more upset by Alexander's calm disinterest than I would have been if he had shouted at me. After all, he had just discovered me committing adultery and in our bed. I wondered if he already knew. Rather lamely, I told him that we had actually been in Matthew's room, not ours.

"What now", I said. I couldn't meet his gaze and he didn't answer. He just stood up, went into the kitchen, and asked me if I wanted a cup of tea. I didn't tell him that I had just had one.

It was weird, we just sort of carried on. I ran the house and did all the usual things, cooking, cleaning, laundry. He did the odd jobs around the place, washed the cars and kept the garden tidy, as always. We both went to work as usual. Having established that I had betrayed him in Matthew's room he went to bed, as usual, in the main room. I decided I would simply join him. We didn't have sex; in fact we didn't even touch one another except by accident. I did wonder if he might attempt to reconnect but he didn't. I didn't know how to make the first move and I didn't know if I wanted to.

Ken and I chatted at work as if nothing had happened and I still went to his flat, the building work was all done, when we could manage it before Alexander would be home. The first time I stripped off as soon as I arrived, but it felt all wrong and I, awkwardly, got dressed again. We settled, self-consciously, for our usual routine: cuppa, Rich Tea and then sex. Maybe that ritual was our foreplay?

I didn't see Ken any more than usual. On most of the days when I was on the early turn and Ken wasn't, Alexander would come home to find me in tears. That gap between my return and his was the hardest as I anticipated seeing him again. I never told him who or why or when and he never asked. I was still deeply hurt by his total lack of interest. Just once, he did ask a question. He wanted to know if Rachael and Matthew were his. I started to ask him how he could even doubt it and then stopped. I was shocked as I understood he now had every reason to wonder. I don't know if he had a DNA test done, it would have been like him to do that to make sure. If he did, he never mentioned it to me.

I wondered and wondered why I ever risked using my place but I was not sure if I cared. Would my relationship with Ken grow or die? Was it just a break in the monotony, the stable routine that Alexander and I had had for so long? The security I had sought? These were things I asked myself in that space before Alexander came home from work.

After a couple of months of uneasy truce, we started to talk about divorce . . .

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