Minna

So why, why, why is my husband now having sex with men, I asked myself. We were so normal, so fucking normal.

Was his desire for men something that had happened recently?

Five years ago Jon fucked up his knee at work. Like so many others on construction sites, he was not an employee but an 'independent contractor'. There was no worker's compensation during the six month rehabilitation period. No pay. We struggled along on our savings and my wage until he was ready to look for work again.

Nobody had wanted to touch him. A labourer whose body was already fucked by his mid thirties? No thanks. Jon had started applying for sales representative jobs, and after months of being told 'oh, another tradie who wants to get out of the sun, huh?', he eventually secured a position. He'd been out of work for eleven months by that stage. We were near broke.

Against all odds, his career had blossomed. He'd worked his way up the corporate latter in record time. For the first time in our lives we were no longer worrying about money, and making ends meet.

Did the financial peace of mind give him a sense of restlessness? Had he been lining up his ducks, and getting himself into a good position, so he could leave me for a man? I wished I could talk to him, but I knew even if he did come home – and I was starting to think he wouldn't – he wouldn't give me honest answers.

Jon has never entirely come clean with me when we've fought. His biggest goal is always to keep the peace, to smooth things over.

I won't bore you with the details of my private misery. For hours I stressed and stewed, loathed and loved, until I eventually went to bed and tried to sleep, but no sooner had I laid my head on the pillow than I heard Jon park his car in the garage. My heart rate immediately picked up, and I gripped the sheets with sweaty hands. Any fatigue I had felt vanished. I was ready to fight.

Jon came upstairs, took off his clothes, slipped into bed, and leant over to kiss me.

'Don't,' I ordered coldly.

He flinched. 'Sorry. I thought you were asleep.'

'I don't know why you came home.'

'Because my wife and kids are here,' he said. 'I bought you flowers.'

I can't imagine what part of the male psyche believes that a bunch of gerberas is going to amend for sucking a man's cock. I'm pretty confident that if I'd cheated on Jon and walked in with a fifty dollar SuperCheap Auto gift card, he'd have laughed in my face.

'Sadie's not yours,' I hissed.

'I love her like she's mine.' He stroked my hair. 'Min, please don't walk out.'

'Sure, I'd love to stay,' I said snidely. 'What have I got to lose, right? We use condoms as birth control, after all. I avoided getting chlamydia this week. Who know what I might miss out on getting next week. God you're lucky it wasn't HIV. I would have left you, no questions asked, if it had been that.'

'I don't know how anyone got a STD. That wasn't part of the deal. There was an arrangement.' His voice was becoming desperate.

I snorted. 'A man having an affair didn't stick to his word? Shock me.'

Jon fell silent.

'I want a divorce,' I said quietly. 'I can't forgive you.'

That's when he started crying.

'Get the fuck out of here if you're going to cry,' I said. 'Go and sleep on the couch.'

He went and slept on the couch. I stayed in bed.

I don't think either of us got much sleep that night.

~~~~~~~~~~

That's where this story should end, isn't it? Husband cheats, women gets divorce, both parties move on with their lives.

The presence of men in this tale only makes this so much worse. A woman can forgive an affair with a woman, because she can compete with another of her own gender. She can't compete with a man. She's lost before she's even started the race.

We stayed together not because I loved Jon, or because I wanted to make it work, but because the very next morning we got a call from a local hospital advising us that Jon's father had been admitted and wasn't expected to make it. I've always liked Reg, and he's always liked me. I wanted to spend time with him during his final days on earth, and I certainly didn't want to disappoint him by telling him what Jon had been up to.

When I visited Reg in hospital he gripped my left hand and rubbed my wedding and engagement rings. They were the rings he gave his wife, Joan. Joan died three years after Jon and I met, and it was my husband and in-laws' greatest wish that I wed Jon and we use these treasured white gold and emerald affairs to seal our union.

The white gold doesn't suit my skin. Yellow, or even rose, would have been better options. But the rings were priceless, because they were a sign that I was fully accepted into the Marsden family. It would devastate Reg if I were to give them back.

Reg didn't die that week. My father-in-law ended up hanging on for another three months. Those last months were filled with multiple trips to the hospital, much medication, and much reminiscing. Maybe being so close to death gave him a sixth sense, because he told me stories about he and his wife that I never would have believed had I not heard it from the horse's mouth, and two weeks before he died he told me he sensed there was something going on between Jon and I, and he begged me to give his son another chance.

Do you break a promise made to a dying man? And do you walk away from his son when he's grieving the loss of his father, thus creating a scenario in which a man loses not only his sole living parent, but his wife, son and step-daughter? It's so easy to say 'yes, Jon deserved everything that came his way', but time had put a dampener on my emotions. I still loathed my husband, but I couldn't deny that I also still loved him.

As for Jon... he never talked to me about the men. I asked him, I begged him for details, but he never told me. He'd just say it would only hurt me more, and I took that to mean that the affairs had been more frequent and sordid than I'd care to believe.

Our sex life just about ground to a halt. Every now and then we'd make love, but it was always boring, missionary position sex and always, always with a condom. My STD test had come back clear. His hadn't, and I didn't miss an opportunity to rub his face in it.

A strange kind of bitterness transcended. I loved Jon, and I knew he loved me, but I was angry. My world as I knew it had been swept away. I was struggling to find traction but I didn't quite know where to step. I'd read stories of bisexual men online and end up wanting to scream with rage. I had so many questions, all of them bitter and angry. Why marry women if you want a fuck a man so badly? Why have children with her? Why treat her as though she is nothing more than some drone, some robot, some vehicle for you to have children and a nice, clean home?

Everything culminated in a screaming argument not with Jon, but with a courier at work. He told me I'd packaged something incorrectly, I'd sneeringly told he I hadn't, and words were exchanged. He wasn't very nice, but me? I was a fucking bitch. I've never been a bitch at work. I've always taken the tack that none of us are there for a good time, so why make someone else's life a misery?

My explosion was so out of character that my boss intervened, called the courier company's head office, and made a complaint about their staffer. It didn't even occur to my boss that I might be the one in the wrong.

Worse still, it was only after Trevor had finished making a formal complaint that I remembered I had been told to package the parcel a certain way. My stomach sunk. Some poor fool contractor had copped a mouthful from an angry middle aged woman because she was so incapable of dealing with what was going on in her home life, she was taking it out on any nearby target.

That was when I knew I had to do something. But what? See a counsellor? I had no interest in sharing the sordid details of my husband's affairs with a stranger. Nor did I want a divorce. What I really wanted – what I really, really, truly wanted – was to stop feeling like a doormat. I was tired of being the annoying mother, the housekeeper, the reliable employee, the fooled wife. I wanted something for me, something private and special. I was sad and angry and tired, and that night, when I got home, I called the courier company and apologised to them. I explained everything that had gone on.

Then I emailed my boss with a letter of resignation. God fucking knows what I was thinking. I obviously wasn't. Maybe I just wanted to run away. I wanted a new beginning, but didn't know how to achieve it. I wanted to be something other than a betrayed forty-one year old wife.

Trevor called me into his office the next morning. Red-faced and humiliated, I mumbled through an explanation about how I'd been at fault yesterday with the courier company. In obtuse terms, I told him I was going through a bit of a tough time, and I obviously needed to take some time out.

'Minna, I don't want to lose you over this,' he said, clearly flummoxed. 'I can tell something's up. You've been upset for months. I know you were close to your father-in-law, and sometimes it's harder to grieve an in-law than a natural parent, because you feel you shouldn't have loved them the way you do.

Look, Anna, Geoff's assistant, is going to return from maternity leave in two weeks. That means Geoff's temporary personal assistant will be back to job hunting. How about you take a month off to clear your head? I'll get Anna's replacement to look after me while you're gone.'

It was an offer so generous that even though I didn't want to accept it, I did.

~~~~~~~~

'You're going on holidays without me?' Jon asked.

I nodded. 'Yep.'

I'd made my decision on the way home from work. I was due to have a month off work. I thought that for the first fortnight I'd go on a little road trip throughout Queensland, New South Wales and Victoria, all by myself. It would give me some time to clear my head, away from my family.

'But holidays have always been about us,' he said softly.

I knew what he was saying. He loved holidays. It didn't matter where we were going, just so long as we were together. From theme parks and farm stays when the kids were younger, to resorts and adventure holidays when they were older, trips away have always been something that was special to us, and more so Jon than myself. I loved holidaying with him, but I didn't feel the same level of emotion towards them.

'This one's about me,' I said bravely. 'I need to go away.'

'Oh fuck,' he swore. He buried his head in his hands. 'You're going to organise a divorce, aren't you? You're still not over what happened, are you?'

'No and no,' I replied honestly. 'I just need to... not be a wife, and not be a mother. Sadie's graduated from high school, so really, it's just you and Aaron.'

'I have no problems looking after the kids, Min,' he reminded me. He paced restlessly. 'Why don't you just stay at home and relax for a month? We can go away later, whenever you want, and have a nice holiday together.'

His words infuriated me. It was perfectly okay for him to have sex with strangers, but me going on a driving holiday for two weeks was unacceptable? What did he think I was going to do?

'You think I'm going to cheat,' I said flatly.

'No. That's not it at all. I think you're going to take something that I've always thought was a very special bond between us and do it on your own.'

I nearly choked. 'The irony, it kills me.'

'Minna, please,' he said. 'Just leave this until Christmas. I'll take you wherever you want.'

He could – and did – beg and plead, but having made up my mind to go on a two week driving holiday all by myself, I wasn't going to budge. Perhaps there was even a deep, sadistic side to me that was pleased to see him upset.

The kids were no happier to hear that I was going away. I told them the news the following evening and to say they were unimpressed is an understatement.

Sadie wanted to know who was going to drive her to her make-up gigs.

'You're now eighteen and you should have had your license a year ago,' I told her. 'You'll need to call a taxi or uber if Jon can't take you.'

'Mum!' she demanded. 'You don't understand. Jon works too much to be able to take me. Why are you being so selfish?'

'Because I think it's high time that you get a license and a proper job,' I snapped. 'Two make-up gigs a month does not maketh a career.'

'I'm earning money from my Youtube channel, too.'

'Excellent. You can start paying board,' I replied shortly. I was annoyed. Both Jon and I had started working within weeks of graduating high school. Sadie, for some reason, was virtually unemployed and despite my continual offers of assistance, told me she could find a job on her own. I was losing patience.

'You are such a bitch,' Sadie exclaimed, turning around and stalking up the stairs. 'You don't even care about anyone but yourself.'

I watched her leave.

'Mum?' Aaron asked.

'What is it?' I asked.

'Who's going to buy food and clean the house if you're not here?'

'Your father,' I replied.

Aaron groaned. 'Muuuuum. You've got to be kidding me. He doesn't know what to buy.'

'I'll do the weekly shopping before I leave, and he'll manage to do the second week's while I'm gone,' I argued.

'He can't cook. Everything he cooks comes from a box in the freezer.'

'I thought you preferred that?' I inquired.

'For two nights! After that, it's just shit. Why are you leaving us? Are you and Dad getting a divorce?'

Jon had been out in the courtyard on a phone call, and walked in at the exact moment his son asked the question about our relationship.

'Nobody's getting a divorce,' Jon said. He turned to Aaron. 'I'm sorry she's going away without us, too, but we should try and be happy for your Mum. She looks after us every other day of her life. Why shouldn't she have some time to herself?'

My jaw dropped. That was an about turn, wasn't it?

'You can't look after us!' Aaron exclaimed, glaring at his father. 'Don't let her go. She won't come back, I just know it.'

'She's coming back,' Jon said, a touch of irritation in her voice. 'Why wouldn't she come back?'

'Because something's up between you two,' Aaron said. 'If you two get a divorce, Sadie and I are living with Mum. We've already discussed it. So, you better come back, Mum.'

'I promise I'm coming back,' I said. 'I'm not divorcing your father, either.'

'If you do, I want to live with you,' Aaron warned.

'That's okay. If I ever decide to get a divorce, you can live with me,' I said, faking a bright and cheerful tone. 'Seriously, though Aaron, don't worry about a thing. We're not getting a divorce. We've both just been stressed about Grandpa dying. That's why I want to get away. I've been feeling a bit down.'

No child wants to believe their parents are fallible, and Aaron was no exception. He didn't want the finer details. My brief explanation seemed to have soothed him, and he looked noticeably more at ease.

'You're really not getting a divorce?' he asked.

Both Jon and I shook our heads.

'Okay then, whatever,' Aaron said. 'Don't forget to leave my pocket money for me before you leave. Dad never remembers.'

Aaron trundled off to game, leaving Jon and I in the living room.

It was a Wednesday night, the same day of the week that Heather had knocked on the door. How long ago had that been? Four, five months? It seemed incredible that I'd once genuinely believed my husband had been faithful to me.

I stared at Jon and tried to imagine him interacting with men. Did he kiss them? Love them? Did he tell them about his overweight, angry wife, who no longer wanted to have sex with him? Did he talk to them about how she was running away and leaving him to look after two kids, one of whom wasn't even his, on his own?

Jon caught me staring.

'I'm sorry for being such a prick yesterday,' he said. 'You deserve this trip away. I'll make sure the kids and house are taken care of. Probably not to your standards, but I'll make sure nobody dies.'

'Will you be here when I get back?' I asked curiously.

'I've told you a million times that I don't want a divorce.'

I walked over to the kitchen and inspected the contents of the pantry. I do our shopping Friday night. By Wednesday the cupboard is noticeably bare. The kids are like a fucking plague of rabbits. No matter how much food I buy, it's always gone by shopping day.

'Do you want me to go out and buy you some chocolate?' Jon asked. 'I can do a Maccas run if you prefer.'

I shut the pantry door. Stared at my husband.

Then, very slowly, I removed first my shirt and then my bra. Jon was confused, which wasn't surprising, because I hadn't initiated sex since I learned what he'd been up to. I had no idea why I was doing it then. Maybe it was because I was going away, and I was scared of what I might or might not come back to? Maybe it was because I felt like I had nothing to lose, so I might as well offer Jon a little extra, decent sex, so I had some positive, fun, memories of our time together?

I fondled my nipples until they were hard, then held a tit in Jon's direction.

'Want to suck on this?' I asked.

His eyes lit up. 'Fuck yeah, Min.'

He all but dragged me to our bedroom. One of our walls adjoined the stairs, the other adjoined Sadie's bedroom, so we had to be quiet. Jon carefully locked the door but left the light on. I usually preferred it off, but I wanted to see his facial expressions. I wanted to watch the way he reacted to me.

We hurriedly pulled off our clothes. For the first time in a long time I was aroused, and not only mildly. Oh no, I wasn't slightly eager, I was gagging for his cock. I wanted to see it, touch it, kiss it, fuck it.

I sat Jon on the edge of our bed, gave him a mouthful of boob, and started to stroke his prick. He put one hand over mine, so I could wank him the way he wanted, and attacked my breasts with his mouth with gusto.

In no time at all we were ready for more. We clambered onto the bed and Jon reached between my legs. He traced his fingers along my labia teasingly, before parting them and finding my clit. I let out a groan and spread my legs. Jon grinned wickedly and slid his fingers down, so they were over my opening, before sliding them in. A little groan escaped my lips.

'Mmm, I love that noise,' he said, kissing me. 'I'm going to fuck you soon, but not until I've had my fun with you.'

He expertly finger fucked me until I was both soaking with and pleading for more. He ignored my urgent requests, so I pushed him off me and onto his back, and went to his bedside drawer for a condom.

I didn't put the condom on straightway. I sucked him for a bit, breathing in the way he smelt and fondling his balls. When I'd had my fill, I rolled on the condom, straddled him, and speared myself.

We let out simultaneous gasps. God it felt good to have him inside me.

Jon met my gaze and gave me a knowing, private smile. I grinned back. Yeah, this was good. We both liked it, both knew we could give each other the orgasm we craved.

I fucked him until I was clutching at him and whimpering through my near-silent climax, at which point he grabbed my arse and pumped me up and down. He came not long after me, his face strained and his head tilted back.

When we were both quite done, I reluctantly held onto the base of the condom and wriggled off. I handed Jon a box of tissues and watched as he cleaned himself up.

'Fuck, that was good,' he said, pulling me close. 'I've missed doing that with you.'

He was attracted to me, wasn't he? He wanted to fuck me. That aspect of our lives hadn't changed. He still liked tits, he still liked pussy. It seemed so odd that this man who I'd assumed was straight, who acted so straight, was actually not.