The Voice of Experience

"You're going to get caught."

Her voice startled me. I was at the bar getting a drink, doing the usual pre-game for Friday night out with the girls. There were five of us that night; there had been a sixth, but she had already found what she was looking for before we even got to the club, a tall blonde stud that oozed sex appeal. We all knew we wouldn't be seeing her again until Monday morning at the office.

Turning slightly to my left, I saw an attractive and well-dressed older woman. The word that immediately sprung to mind was "elegant." Her black dress was sexy without being sleazy, her jewelry expensive but not showy. The woman's blonde hair was done in a style that suited her face and age, an attractive pixie cut that made her look younger.

Truthfully, I found it hard to pinpoint her age. It didn't look like she'd had any work done, but the laugh lines on her face were one of the few indicators of a life lived. I hoped I looked half that good at her age, which I made a wild-ass guess at somewhere in her fifties. What I couldn't guess was what the hell she wanted with me.

"Excuse me?" I didn't bother to hide the annoyance in my voice.

"I said, 'you're going to get caught.' I've been watching your friends since they came in the door. Getting ready for a big night?"

"Yes, I- wait, what? Watching us? And caught at what? Who are you, anyways?"

She chuckled. "My name is Amanda, and you know exactly what I mean. You and your friends are going to go out to a club? Probably? And you're all here for a little liquid courage first. Am I right so far, ah... what is your name, dear?"

"Erin. And, yeah. What are you supposed to be, some kind of psychic?"

Amanda laughed, a pleasant, if slightly superior sound. "No, not at all. Just someone who... well, who's been in your place, or something like it, before."

The bartender put my drink down in front of me. I tipped him generously, as I usually did on these nights. He was going to have to put up with women like my friends all night long, and he deserved it. I eyed Amanda as I took a sip. While I was inclined to rejoin my friends, this was one of the most interesting conversations I'd had in some time. It sure as hell beat listening to Darlene and Cindy trying to one-up each other.

"Oh? And where is that?"

She smiled, but it felt more predatory than friendly. "You're planning to cheat on your husband."

I sputtered, "No, that's- How dare you! I love my husband!"

The smile changed to one just a little sadder, her tone to a placatory one. "I'm not judging you, Erin. I'm trying to help. And I didn't say that you don't love your husband; I believe you. I did, too. But I still cheated on him."

"Well, I'm not going to cheat on mine! I... Fuck you! You don't even know me! You don't know any of us!" I started to move, but Amanda laid a hand on my wrist. She didn't grab me, though, instead applying only the lightest touch.

"Please. Stop. Just listen. There were six of you when your group came in; one, wearing a ring, already left with a guy, to the catcalls and applause of the rest of your group. Two of the remaining girls, including you, are also wearing rings. Three are not. If I had to guess, one of them is married and put her ring away, and one or two of the others is divorced."

I stopped in my tracks. "Are you... What is this? Are you a detective? Following us? Who the fuck--"

"No, I'm just a woman, like I said, who's been where you are. I had friends like that once, and I've seen groups like yours dozens of times over the years. You may have not cheated yet. In fact, I'd give odds you haven't. There are..." She waved her free hand. "... tells. The way you keep looking at your ring. Your expression when your married friends speak; by how raucous the group becomes, I assume about how they're planning to get laid, or about how the hubby will never be the wiser?" I looked away, uncomfortable. "Like I said, dear, I'm not judging. Not really."

Without looking back, I said, "Not really? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone cheats for a reason. Some of them are good and some of them are bad, but it can be hard to tell which is which in the moment." She shuffled slightly so that she was fully in my view. "I'm trying to help you, Erin."

With a snort, I asked, "Help me how? Tell me not to cheat? Darlene said--"

"Your married friend? The profligate cheater?"

"... Yeah. She said that it hasn't hurt her marriage at all. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, and--"

A loud, condescending laugh from Amanda interrupted me. "Oh, no, my dear. That's definitely true. But I guarantee you, her husband's going to find out. Your divorced friend--what was her name?--found that out, didn't she?"

"Cindy." I said it quietly, but then I rallied. "But she knows how she messed up. She said--"

"--That she knows what she did wrong, and she can keep any of you from getting caught, and anyways, things turned out fine for her, right?" I just stared. "Like I said, Erin, I've seen many groups like yours. And, while I haven't always seen the aftermath, I do know what they're doing--and what they intend to get you to do--is going to end up with one of your group caught, and then it's going to end up with all of you caught.

"'Three can keep a secret if two are dead,' and there are six of you. And that's before the possibility that one of them is hoping you'll fall so that your husband will fall with you; and then she can pick him up again afterwards. Or perhaps he's already cheating on you, and this is revenge?"

I growled, "Stan's not like that!"

With a placid voice, she asked, "Are you?"

"I- I don't--"

Her hand gently squeezed my wrist. "People cheat for many reasons, Erin. Boredom, or anger, or revenge, or unhappiness. Because they want out. Because they want to get caught. Because they think they need a thrill. Why are you planning to?"

"I'm not, I'm--"

Amanda shook her head. "How long until you're supposed to go with your friends to... dance, I assume?"

"Uh, maybe an hour?"

"And have you already cheated on your husband?"

I looked at my feet. "I... no. Danced a little too close, when I got drunk. Um, let one of them kiss me. Got groped, but stopped him. But... but nothing more than that."

Her finger went to my chin and tipped it up. "But tonight, you were going to?"

"... Maybe. It all... Darlene and Cindy made it sound so harmless, like it was just another... like it had nothing to do with him and me, just like going to the spa or the gym, except he wouldn't understand because of his ego. That if--"

Amanda finished the sentence with a sigh, "--'That if he really loved you, he'd let you do this.'" With a shake of her head, she said, "Idiots."

"Hey!"

"Not you, Erin. Well, maybe. But not as stupid as them, at least. You haven't done anything irrevocable yet. There's still time for you."

Laughing, I said, "Oh, so the repentant cheater is trying to keep me from breaking my vows? You got yours, and it ruined your marriage, so now you go around helping young women to not fall from grace like you did?"

The grin on Amanda's face seemed almost demonic in its glee. "Oh, no, not at all. I mean, perhaps; but I cheated on my husband hundreds of times over twenty-three years of marriage. I'd still probably be cheating on him now if my beloved Donald hadn't passed away. And I never, not once, got caught.

"That's how I'll help you, Erin. If you want to cheat, I'll teach you everything I can. And if you follow in my footsteps, you'll never get caught unless you're exceptionally unlucky."

"... What?"

Amanda took her purse from the stool next to her. "There's an all-night diner just across the street. I'm in the mood for some coffee and perhaps a light snack. If you'll join me--after telling your friends you'll be back in about an hour--I'll tell you my story. In it, you'll learn all you need to successfully prosecute as many affairs as you choose to have."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, quite serious. A magician never reveals her tricks, but perhaps it's time I took on an apprentice." She could tell I was still hesitant. "Look, I'm not asking you to get into a car with me; we're going to go to a public place, have coffee and share some fries--which I'll pay for--and talk. Then, when we're done, you can do whatever you want with what you learn. Worst case scenario, you get to tell your friends all about the crazy broad you met tonight." She said the last with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"I, ah, I- "

Amanda turned to leave. "I'm going over there either way. This place is dead this early, and your friend walked out with the only guy I had my eye on. If you come over? Great! If not, well, I guess I'll have to put some more time in on the stairclimber, because I'm sure as hell going to finish that basket of fries." And with that, she left.

What the hell had just happened?

On the one hand, she was right; everything the girls were doing was risky. Even I could see that. Maybe it took someone who really knew what they were doing to get me to listen to what I'd already been telling myself.

I wasn't even sure if I wanted to cheat, my behavior the last couple of weeks to the contrary. I really did love Stan a lot; my growing urge to fuck other guys didn't change that, at least to me. After all, I'm sure he fantasized about other women, and I hadn't gone all that much further than fantasy. That's what Darlene and Cindy and the others told me anyways, even if deep down I knew that I'd be pissed as hell if I caught Stan doing what I'd been doing with another woman.

But if I decided to pull the trigger, why wouldn't I want to be good at it? If Amanda was telling the truth, and she got away with it for two decades and hundreds of guys without her husband figuring it out, why wouldn't I want to hear what she had to say? And if she was lying, then, like she said, it would still make for a funny story later.

I told the girls that I wanted to get some fresh air before we headed out, and that I'd be back soon. They were already inebriated, so Darlene just yelled, "Better get back before we go without you and take all the good ones!" Then they returned to the group's game of marry/fuck/kill, this time about the guys in the office. Yeah, I definitely needed to get a different point of view before one of these idiots got me fired as well as divorced.

The diner was one of those places that only had DINER in big neon letters over the entrance, without an actual name. It could have been built any time from the 40s onwards, and its decor reflected that. It had a weirdly timeless quality. All the stuff--the tables, chairs, bar, and so on-- seemed cheap, but sturdy as hell, too. After a night out dancing, the girls and I had found ourselves here more than once; the ones that hadn't hooked up, that is. The food was nothing to write home about, but it was cheap, greasy, and abundant.

Amanda was staring off into the middle distance when I came in, hands around a mug. As I approached the table, she shook off her reverie and smiled broadly. "Hey! I wasn't sure if you were going to come or not. I'm glad you did."

I slid into the booth opposite her. "Maybe I should have my head examined, but I figure this has to be more interesting than listening to Darlene and the girls hype themselves up for the rest of the night."

She laughed, "That doesn't seem like a very high bar to clear."

I shrugged. "It's not. But if you can tell me what you say you can..."

The older woman nodded, maybe a little wistful. "I can. But... I'm sorry, would you mind telling me about yourself first? Not your whole life story, but what you do for a living, how long you've been married, that kind of stuff? I want to be sure that what I can tell you... well, I think it's all interesting, but I want to make sure it's useful for you, too. I don't want to waste your time or mine."

"Okay. Um, I'm twenty-seven. Met my husband near the end of our junior year in college; I majored in history, but decided later I didn't want to teach, so now I'm an administrative assistant. Stan and I started dating exclusively around the beginning of senior year; we've been married a little over five years now."

"Is it a happy marriage? On balance, I mean?"

I slowly nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd say so. I've got no real complaints. He makes me happy, for the most part. I mean, I'd like him to pick up his socks instead of dropping them off the side of the bed at night, but he'd like me to stop watching so much reality TV."

Amanda chuckled. "Fair enough. What about your sex life?"

I felt myself blush slightly. "I, ah, it's good."

"Good?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Great, a lot of the time, although not as great as it was at the beginning. You know how it is. That rush early on. We're kind of settling into married life now. Talking about kids. But he still, um..." I chuckled. "He still more than gets the job done. And he tells me I'm the best he's ever had, which is nice."

"Is he? The best you've ever had, I mean."

"Ah... sort of? Now, yeah. Or, I guess, even two or three years ago he was. I had more experience than him, and I kind of had to teach him what I liked, but he picked it up well. Once he got to that point, yeah. But, like I said, well, things lately have gotten a little..."

"Stale?" That damned raised eyebrow again.

"That's... no, I wouldn't go that far." I searched for the right word for a moment, then found, "Comfortable, I guess? I love him, and it's still good, but I can't remember the last time we did something new in bed."

Amanda sagely nodded. "Okay. No real complaints, happy marriage, better sex would be good. So, why are you thinking about cheating on Stan?"

Before I could answer, thankfully, the waitress dropped off the fries and poured me a cup of coffee. I used the time to think about how to phrase my answer; I didn't come here to get grilled by her, I came here for her story.

"I'm not. I mean... Yes, I'm putting myself in the way of temptation. But I've never... I don't want to cheat on him. I'm not going out with them thinking, 'I'm going to find a guy and get laid tonight,' I just... I miss the excitement." A fry went into my mouth, followed by some hastily chugged water when I realized it was way too hot.

"Of single life?" She took a sip of her coffee, lipstick leaving a pale outline on the rim of the cup.

"Ow. Ow." I fanned my mouth. "Yeah, of... I guess of being free? And desired? It's not that I want to cheat on Stan, but when we started talking about kids and buying a house and..." I sighed. "I just wonder if I got married too young. If I should have played the field longer."

"To see if there was someone better out there?"

"No!" I smartly dragged the next french fry through some ketchup and let it cool this time. "No, I love him. I really do. He's such a nice guy, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And I sure as hell don't want to hurt him. But... I dunno, I just feel like..." I chewed on the ketchup-soaked spud while I thought.

Amanda stared at me expectantly until I finished. "I wish there was some way I could put a pin in my marriage and come back to it, you know? Not hurt Stan, and not... if there was a way I could do it without cheating, that would be ideal. That's kind of what I've been doing, at least a little. But..." I shrugged.

Her stare cut through all of my bullshit. "But the temptation to cheat is getting stronger, especially given the company you keep?"

"... Yeah. I hate to say it, but yeah. I don't want to, but knowing... I know I'm still desirable. There have been plenty of opportunities to go further with guys at the club, and I haven't." My gaze shifted to my hands. "And I like that feeling of being desired, so I go back, but I'm worried that eventually... eventually being desired won't be enough."

She smiled kindly and put her hand on mine. "I understand. Believe me, I understand. And I think I can help you."

My head snapped back up. "To cheat? I don't know if--"

Amanda patted my hand and withdrew hers again, leaning back in her booth. "Not necessarily. I'll tell you my story. I'll tell you why I did it and how I got away with it. And if you want more detail, I'll stay here and talk with you as long as you want. It's so rare I get to tell anyone my secrets, and you seem an ideal candidate."

She laughed at the look on my face. "I'm not saying you will cheat, or that you've got the Mark of the Beast on you, or whatever you're afraid of." She took a nibble of one of the fries and spoke around it; how the hell did she make talking with her mouth full look elegant? "You're young, beautiful, and smart enough to know that what you're doing right now isn't working.

"By that I mean whatever's going on in your marriage, and your friendship with... Darlene, was it? And Cindy?" I nodded. "You've got a yearning you can't quite define, and it's leading you in a direction you may or may not want to go. And..."

Amanda sighed a little sadly. "Frankly, you don't have kids, and your marriage hasn't gone on that long. You have more room to change course than you might think. I don't mean to sound grim, but leaving your marriage is a possibility, one that... Well, that I wasn't brave enough to do." Another bite and a brighter disposition. "But let's not worry about that just yet. Still want to hear my story?"

I nodded. Listening couldn't hurt, right? "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

The distinguished older woman flashed me a brilliant smile. I had no doubt I was in for a tale. "Then I'll begin at the beginning. Well, perhaps a little later than that; you don't need to hear about my earliest days, except that my home life was very... normal. Average, in just about every way. Middle class, middle America, middling happiness. If my parents could have actually had 2.5 children, they probably would have.

"But I wasn't an average girl; I grew from a goofy, big-headed child to a gawky ugly duckling. Always smart, though; probably too smart for my own good. I was a bookish and sharp-tongued little thing. Then, in my senior year, I changed. The ugly duckling became a swan; it wasn't just my appearance, although puberty did finally bestow bounteous gifts on me.

"No, it was my intellect that truly allowed me to flourish. An expensive gift is merely a pleasant thing without proper packaging. But wrapped correctly? Presented only in teasing and tempting glimpses to hint at what's inside? Now that's where desire manifests.

"Think about it: on Christmas Day a child opens their gifts, plays with the toys for a few hours, maybe a day or two, then puts them aside. But in the month they're under the tree? How often do they shake them, poke at them, try to guess based on size and shape and weight what lies within? A month of delicious anticipation, followed by a few hours of rhapsodic pleasure. Which is more fun, looking back?"

Another nod from me, although I'll admit I was a little disappointed so far. "So, you figured out how to present yourself. You got pretty, and then you learned makeup and fashion. Okay?"

She laughed. "I know, it doesn't sound like much, but you have to understand. I... Let me ask you, have you always been the gorgeous young woman sitting across from me?"

I blushed. "Uh, I don't know if I'd go that far, but I'm... I've never been 'ugly.' I had a little bit of an awkward phase, I guess."

"But you don't know what it's like to be invisible or even repulsive to your peers, then suddenly be the object of desire for one half and scorn for the other."

"Uh, no. Not really."

Amanda popped a fry into her mouth, apparently relishing the flavor as much as the storytelling. "I did. And that's when I found my first and longest love: being desired. For me, that's what it's always been about, that rush of being pursued. Sex is fun, but it's like opening the present on Christmas: a culmination of an experience. The burst of joy that justifies the longing."