Saturday 14th April

It was Saturday morning, the weekend after we’d returned from England and I was enjoying a quiet cup of coffee on our back decking. Jill was out, shopping with Gemma for food and drink for the eight-person dinner party we were hosting later that day. And I was enjoying the lull before the storm.

Since we came back, the last five days had been amazing. The transformation I’d seen in Jill was amazing. From passable impression of a love-lorn teenager on the ten days leading to our return to loving and affectionate wife. Jill had been home from work early every night, with dinner simmering away on my return. Always happy to see me, and as far as I could tell she was one-hundred percent sticking to the ‘Dave and Jill only’ plan, with no obvious signs of any untoward extra-curricular activities between her and boss during their working hours.

And despite her self-confessed admission that she was in love with Chris, she didn’t seem to be missing him. Happy to spend all evening with her ‘old toy’, her loving but less than shiny husband of twenty-three years.

We had a great week. Mixing up romantic meals at home with fine dining. Snuggled movies on the couch followed by tender and joyful love-making, followed by talking into the small hours about everything and anything under the sun. The only thing we didn’t talk about was Chris, or Chris and Jill, or Gemma. We’d made a pact that this week was a special time for Jill and me alone, with even the mention of anyone else banned.

So as I sat there drinking my coffee and enjoying the much warmer temperatures than we’d endured a week ago, I was a pretty happy camper. I’d had a great week and by my reckoning, apart from the dinner party tonight, I had another two days of time with Jill to look forward to. There was only one solitary negative thought in my mind, but try as I might I really struggled to ignore it.

What was troubling me was a conversation I’d overheard between Chris and Jill on their last night and morning together in England before we all returned to Miami and normal life. They were cuddled up together on the outside patio, enjoying a last romantic bottle of wine. Gemma and I had retired a couple of hours before so I guess they thought they had the place to themselves, and so were talking as if no one else was around. But we’d drunk so much wine earlier in the evening that I’d woken up to use the toilet.

They were laying along the length of one side of an L-shaped outdoor corner sofa, Chris behind Jill as she lay back on his chest, her legs and backside nestled between his long legs, with Chris’s arms wrapped around her body. As they drank the last bottle of red wine we’d bought earlier that evening, it was Chris who started the conversation.

“You know, Jill. I’m going to miss all this,” he said.

“What, the English countryside?” Jill teased him, gesturing with her free arm.

Chris laughed and squeezed his arms tighter around Jill. “Idiot! No, not this,” mimicking Jill’s gesture towards the countryside. “You. I’ll miss you. You know, being together as a couple, all the time.”

Even in the low lighting, I could see the wistful look on Chris’s face. “I’ve loved all this, being together all of the time, as a proper couple. It’s going to be hard for me, seeing you go back to Dave at the end of the day. Not seeing you at all at the weekend.”

Jill placed her hands on top of Chris’s, a small gesture designed to comfort him and then turned to look at him. Her face showing concern at the feelings of her boyfriend.

“I know, Chris. But at least we’ve still got our three nights a week. And all our time at work.”

But Chris wasn’t for cheering up. His face still looked sad, and he looked like he was trying to make his mind up about something. After a few moments of silence between the two of them, he asked Jill the question on his mind.

“What about you, Jill. Do you feel the same? Will you miss this? Being together all the time?”

What had taken me by surprise was the speed of Jill’s reply and the words she chose.

“Chris, honey. You know I will, I’ll miss this just as much as you. These last nine days have been wonderful. Better than I could ever have imagined. But I’ve got a man to go back to. A man who loves me and who I love.”

Jill’s face showed a strange mix of feelings as she said these words. Part regret, part resignation at the unfathomable dilemma she faced. No way to split herself in two so she could be with both men she loved all of the time.

Chris must have been encouraged by Jill’s response. Maybe sensing some chink of light. He suddenly sounded just a little belligerent. “Jill, honey. Tell me honestly, isn’t what we have better? Isn’t it more exciting? Doesn’t what we have set your heart raising in ways that Dave, however much you love him, can’t?”

Hearing this declaration of war from a man who just eight nights ago said he’d never want to split me and Jill set a million alarm bells ringing in my brain. I felt anger, betrayal, and panic mixing as his words sank in. So much for his intentions – changed through one-hundred and eighty degrees in the space of a little over a week.

I was tempted to storm out from my hiding place and confront this cuckoo in the nest, the only thing stopping me being my need to hear Jill’s reply. To get some comfort and reassurance from her words.

But Jill’s words left me hanging there. In the strangest and most frustrating of places. Half over the edge and half in safety on the cliff edge.

“I promised Dave I’d never leave him, and that nothing between you and me will ever change that. And however things are between us, Chris, I’m not planning on breaking my promise to Dave. I love him and I promised to never leave him.”

The curate’s egg. Jill’s slightly angry-sounding reply to Chris, that she’d never leave me, cheered me and reassured me. But at the same time the fact she’d failed to contradict Chris’s statement that what they had was better left all kinds of unraveling threads in my brain. Maybe she was so cross with Chris that she forgot to tell him what he said wasn’t true. Or maybe she was just avoiding answering the question because what Chris said was true.

Chris seemed to sense that he was on shaky ground, and backed away from this crude attempt at trying to encourage Jill in his direction. His parting comment on the subject, said in jest, was that maybe he’d have to come to an arrangement with Gemma so that Jill and he could spend more time together, but without Jill feeling guilty about it.

His closing words caused the strangest of all the looks I’d seen on Jill’s face during that vacation. “Who knows? She’s so into him, maybe she’ll solve all our problems.” Followed by an exaggerated pause and a hammed-up final word. “Oh, no. I seem to remember you threatening Dave with his head impaled on the spikes at Traitor’s Gate if he ever tried anything like that. Back to plan A then I guess.”

This earned Chris a playful elbow in the ribs. But at least Jill was now laughing and Chris knew he was off the hook, having slightly overplayed his hand. Having misread Jill’s honest answer that she would miss him for a willingness on her part to break her promise and abandon me.

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This little episode from our last night in England hadn’t played on my mind much during that first week back. The way that Jill had closed Chris down at the end of the conversation and then her subsequent loving attentiveness during the last five days had acted as a soothing anesthetic.

So I was a little surprised that my mind was thinking again about this conversation. But who knows, maybe I’m blessed with ESP because barely had I stopped thinking about it, then my phone lit up with an incoming call. ‘Jill Cell’ the little screen showed.

“Hi, honey. We’ll be home soon. But I had something I wanted to ask you before then.”

I could hear nervousness in her voice, and wondered what it was, even as my intuition told me that these days when Jill’s voice sounded like this it was normally something to do with Chris.

“Sure, what is it?” I asked trying to keep the nervous edge in my voice hidden.

“Well, I know this is meant to be a Chris free week, but as Gemma’s coming to dinner tonight, I wondered if it would be okay if I invited Chris around as well?”

I sighed deeply. Jill was right, this was indeed meant to be a Chris free week. Just me and Jill. That had been the deal, the only way I could get myself through the whole ten days of handing Jill over to Chris for all that time in the UK.

As with most couples together as long as us, Jill read my reaction even before I spoke one word.

“Gemma thinks it’s fair as well,” Jill said by way of making it all okay. “Please, honey. It’s only fair.”

Rather than give my response, I’ll hand over to Jill and let her tell the story of the rest of that Saturday and the dinner party.

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I’d loved the week that Dave and I had enjoyed together after our return from England. To me, the whole week had been so satisfying, re-connecting with my wonderful husband who I loved so much.

The week had started when we got back home with Dave playfully but semi-seriously taking the three rings he’d given me and looking tenderly into my face as one-by-one he slipped each of them down the length of my ring finger, giving me the softest of kisses each time. Having put the last one in place, he reached inside the neckline of my blouse and fingered Chris’s class ring which still hung there on the gold chain Chris had bought for me.

Dave looked at Chris’s class ring and then looked up at me, still holding Chris’s ring between his thumb and finger. His question obvious, did I want him to remove it or leave it there? I didn’t answer his question with words. Instead, I kissed my wonderful husband’s lips softly and reached behind my neck to undo the clasp and hand the ring and chain to Dave. After all, this week was to be a Chris-free week.

The week was full of romantic meals, slow and tender love-making and long meandering conversations, the like of which we’d not enjoyed in many a year, such are the pressures of family life.

Of course, I missed my nights of passion with Chris, especially as we still spent so much time together at work each day. Seeing him sat there at his desk head down working on something, I’d sometimes find myself staring at him and daydreaming about our time together in England. And when I’d snap out of m daydream, it was like a voice in my head shouted ‘look but don’t touch.’ Like looking at a particularly shiny, succulent fruit and having your hand slapped each time you reached for it.

And so when I was shopping with Gemma for supplies for our dinner party and she mentioned she thought it would be a good idea if Chris came, I was easy prey to her suggestion. I joked with her that she only thought this because it would give her a clear run at my husband, and she just smiled and laughed, not denying or refuting my suggestion.

As we continued shopping, I couldn’t put Gemma’s suggestion out of my head. I had no doubts that her idea was motivated by her own agenda rather than by a concern for my well-being. But even though I knew this, I couldn’t dislike her for it. Although I still sometimes struggled with jealousy where Gemma and Dave were concerned, I’d grown increasingly close to Gemma during our trip to England. It had been me who’d suggested she join us (not without my own agenda when I suggested it) and knowing the pain she was in at the state of her marriage my heart naturally went out to her.

And during the ten days, what started as sympathy and empathy slowly flowered into a deeper friendship. Before that trip, I’d not really spent much time with her, as whenever she was in our home I was normally with Chris. But during that vacation, we spent time together during some of the day trips and meals. And I found myself warming to her as an intelligent, generous and kind person, a personality she disguised well with all the jokes.

Well, she’d well and truly planted the seed in my brain. I’d been without Chris nearly a whole week, since our return the previous Sunday when we’d kissed and held each other at the airport and then headed in our separate directions. I’d loved my time back with Dave, but I’d grown used to being a ‘greedy girl’ – with two men to love and two men to be with. I’d just about managed to resist temptation for all of those hours together with Chris at work, but with Gemma’s mischievous and self-serving suggestion, I’d been given a nudge in a direction I was only too keen to pursue.

It was like that shiny apple I wasn’t allowed to touch was rolling down the table in my direction, surely a sign provided by the gods that I was meant to have the shiny apple.

I’m not going to go back over all the conversations and feelings from that trip to England, but I will say that resisting this temptation was much harder after England than it would have been before the trip. Dave has described at some length how he accidentally overheard me telling Chris that I shared the same feelings as he did, the difficult conversation that followed between Dave and me, and how we ultimately made things okay. The big promise I gave Dave that I loved him with all my heart and would never leave him for Chris being at the center of our ability to move past this difficult set of discussions.

And although Dave faithfully and accurately described these conversations, of course, he was telling things as he saw them from his viewpoint. I’m not criticizing, but of course he couldn’t see inside my heart and my head to fully realize the depth of the feelings and emotions I was going through.

Certainly, no criticism, because even I was being less than honest with myself about my feelings for Chris in the days and weeks that led up to those difficult Good Friday discussions. As someone who’d been brought up in a very conventional and conservative family, I’d crossed enough bridges and barriers to get to the place where, as society and my parents would see it, I was being serially unfaithful to my husband.

So it was no wonder my mind was rebelling at the prospect of being totally honest with myself. Not only was I sharing my body with another man, now I was also sharing my heart with another man. But until Good Friday (how ironic!) and Chris declared his feelings for me and demanded to know how I felt, I just couldn’t bring myself to admit even to myself how I felt about this new man in my life.

But having finally admitted first to Chris and then to Dave how I felt, it was like a giant sluice gate in one of those huge dams had been opened. I found that without the need for half my brain to hold the other half in check and deny some home truths, my sense of love for Chris and sense of being in love with him grew at a rapid pace during the rest of our time in England.

Dave has described some of the outward signs of this, but I think what he saw and described wasn’t even the half of it. My emotions were in free flow. I’d meant every word I’d said when I told Dave that I’d never leave him for Chris, but another thing I barely dared admit to myself was how quickly my feelings for Chris were developing. With Dave, there was that deep sense of love you feel for the people who are central to your life. Your parents, your children.

That love was deep and well-rooted. The kind that gives you a warm feeling throughout your whole body, making you feel secure and contented. But with Chris, it was something different. It was something that was more basic and, I hate to admit it, more exciting. A tingling excitement and anticipation compared to deep-rooted contentment. A breathless exhilaration and feeling of being totally alive, compared to the safe feeling that ‘all is well in the world.’

During our time in England, I’d been too happy at just ‘being with Chris’ to engage in much reflection or self-contemplation. But once back in Miami, things were slow at work and I found myself with plenty of time to think and contemplate. Several times I found myself thinking a strange thought. That the last time I’d felt like this about any man was in those first days and weeks that Callan and I dated, way back more than twenty-five years ago when we’d become boyfriend and girlfriend at the start of our freshman year at college. It was the same giddy excitement, the same rush as I looked at his muscular and masculine body.

This sounds terrible that I’d not felt the same way with Dave. But love and lust come in all shapes and sizes, and what Dave and I had was different. Deeper, more substantial. The kind of solid foundation that a woman needs to build her life upon. The man with which to have and raise children with, before enjoying the quieter times together before starting the whole thing again with grandchildren. A life satisfying and well-lived, different from the rush that a Callan or a Chris might offer. Men who would naturally play the field and who might easily break your heart.

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Too much philosophy. Too much thinking. Sorry, the perils of reading too much literature over the years. Just what you’d expect from a literature major who’s still in love with all the great poets and writers that had fired my imagination over so many years.

My last thought to share before moving on is that as well as how I was feeling about Chris, the other thing to mention is that I did occasionally have flashes in my brain along the lines of ‘Jill, just what the hell are you doing? This is all going to end in tears? There’s a reason marriage is one man for one woman, and you’re playing fast and loose with that ancient wisdom.’

This thought did occur to me several times, both in England and back in Miami. But I was so intoxicated with my love and lust for Chris that each time this thought came up, I successfully pushed it right to the most remote and dusty cupboard at the back of my brain. Still there, but successfully ignored, an inconvenience that I wasn’t going to allow to interfere with all the fun and excitement I was enjoying. A mature mid-forties wife and mother, giddy with the excitement of re-living carefree college years I’d never really allowed myself, too restrained by my upbringing.

Whenever these thoughts did come up, I’d reassure myself by telling myself how deep and secure Dave and my love for each other was. And besides which, he was on board and enjoying our new three-way or four-way relationship just as much as I was. (Well, maybe not quite ‘as much’ as I was, but certainly enjoying it a hell of a lot.)

All of which brings us back to that Saturday morning when Gemma had suggested I ask Dave if it was okay to invite Chris to our little dinner party. As soon as I asked the question, I could feel the tension in Dave at the other end of the phone, even though he’d not yet said a thing. Quickly telling him that Gemma thought it was only fair seemed a wise move, tempting him by reminding him that if Chris was there maybe Dave could have some fun with Gemma. Plus also there was more than a gem of truth in Gemma’s argument. What’s sauce for the goose, and all that.

Well, after a little discussion, Dave agreed, although there did seem to be a slightly reluctant tone in his voice. But I put this down to tiredness after a long week of work and making love to his newly energized and demanding wife!

And so from six onwards, our guests arrived. My best friend Charlotte and her husband Callan, my college ex from way back when. Gemma, bearing two expensive bottles of red wine. Our black neighbor Byron and his new girlfriend Riley, invited at Callan’s suggestion as we were all keen to meet the new woman in Byron’s life, like him a teacher. And last but not least, the person to sit at the eighth place in our little dinner party – my boyfriend Chris.

I won’t bore you with all the details of the evening, the art of good writing being precis and motion, as my old professor would say, just describing the edited highlights instead. Dave and I soon set aside any lingering awkwardness there might have been from my call about inviting Chris, both of us happy to forget this, enjoying working as a team to put the final preparations together.

As we finished the preparation, Dave asked me to set the table. Maybe a little old-fashioned, but over the years we’d always used name tags to denote where each guest should sit at any events like this. It was just part of our ritual and enjoyment, working out who to place next to whom to make the conversation and evening flow successfully.

As I wrote out the name tags, I came at it like the type of puzzle that I loved to solve in my Sudoku books. ‘Let’s see, Byron and Riley obviously need to be together, but apart from that …I could put Charlotte and Callan either together or apart ..’.

Of course, I thought of playing mischievous games to tease and excite Dave, involving some combination of seating me next to either Chris or Callan or possibly both. But in the end, feeling I’d pushed things enough by inviting Chris, I decided to play the good little wife and seated myself next to my husband. Our dining table was an oak rectangle, seating two people at the heads of the table on the short sides, and three people each on the two long sides of the rectangle.

As I inspected my handiwork, I’d placed my loving husband at the left-hand head of the table position, with myself, Riley and then Byron seated to his left on the top side of the table. On Dave’s right along the bottom side of the table were Charlotte, Callan and then Gemma. If I wasn’t allowing myself to sit next to my beau, then I got some naughty pleasure in keeping Dave away from his girlfriend, sitting her next to my hunky boss who was at the right-hand head of the table.

The guests started to arrive and we handed out the drinks and made sure to welcome Riley and make her feel right at home. She was a sweet little thing, very pretty and standing just over five-feet-tall, with Byron’s six-foot-six frame dwarfing her as he stood next to her, the new couple holding hands in a way that I think all of us oldsters found sweet. Turns out she’d met Byron at a teaching event, and that she taught elementary classes in a nearby school. Physically she was the total opposite of Byron. Petite to his towering bulk, blonde to his dark-shaded Afro-American color. But they seemed very happy with each other, and I think all of us were happy for them. Although I think Charlotte, Gemma and myself were also a little jealous of Riley.

With the final food ready, I ushered everyone from the lounge into the dining room. Everyone looked for their place names, and I was more than a little surprised to see Gemma take the place next to Dave was about to sit. I obviously said nothing as I saw everyone else take up the places that I’d assigned them, leaving the only empty place the one where I’d intended Gemma to sit. Next to Chris.

As I put the final dish down and sat in the only remaining vacant spot, I looked at Dave and saw a slightly annoyed look on his face. Evidently, he thought this was my idea, rather than the idea of one of our guests, identity unknown. From the look on his face I was totally sure this hadn’t been Dave’s idea. I felt my face blush as I took the only remaining seat, next to the man Dave had been less than keen to invite, keen to enjoy the last two days of our Chris-free time.

As innocently as I could, I quickly scanned the faces to spot the guilty party, scanning right to left. Not Chris, I was pretty sure. And certainly not Byron or his new girlfriend Riley. Gemma, soon to be free and now sat next to my husband had to be a possibility, although her face gave nothing away. My gaze scanning past Dave and too embarrassed to hold his stare, I looked at the last two. Charlotte or Callan. Charlotte, my best friend, could be mischievous but surely she’d not do this, knowing the trouble it might cause with Dave, knowing as she did all about my special week with Dave. And Callan was like Dave, a total outsider, unlikely in the extreme.

Feeling resigned and defeated, I gave up trying to guess the identity of my enemy and tried to forget it and join in the evening’s conversations.

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Aided by liberal helpings of beer and wine, the conversation was soon flowing easily. As the newcomer to the group, Riley was being peppered with questions, albeit in a friendly effort to make her feel welcome and at home in the group. We learned she’d only recently moved to Miami, having been in Wisconsin before. She and Byron had only been dating around six weeks, and he’d tried to keep it quiet but when she heard about the dinner party she insisted he went and that he wangle her an invite, which we’d been happy to offer.

Mostly we were all having a great time as starters gave way to mains, dessert and then cheese and biscuits. I’d pretty much forgotten the dirty look Dave had given me at the start of the evening, although every so often I caught the hint of a frustrated look in my direction. More obviously, it seemed he’d decided to wreak his revenge for my imagined sin by spending most of the evening very obviously talking to and flirting with Gemma, conveniently positioned directly to his left, where I should have been sat.

I got the distinct impression my husband had two aims. His own personal pleasure, and just as important, annoying and embarrassing me. At first, I felt a little uncomfortable, with all this happening in front of Riley who must have been wondering what the set up was between the four of us. But as Dave continued his games, I thought ‘screw you’, if you want to play that game, two can play. And I retaliated in kind, making a point of making Chris the center of my conversations, flirting with him just as Dave was flirting with Gemma.

The meal finally finished, we told everyone to move through to the lounge. As everyone trooped through to the lounge, Dave and I were left as the last two and he suddenly looked a little sheepish and apologetic. “Sorry, hun. If I overreacted a little. I was a little wound up, you know. About Chris being here during our special time. Sorry if I over-reacted a little.”

“That’s okay,” I smiled, half meaning it, but also more than a little mad at Dave that he ‘d thought the worst of me and not trusted me. Embarrassing me in front of Byron’s new girlfriend who was no doubt wondering why my husband had spent all evening ignoring me and flirting with another woman.

As we all relaxed in the lounge, after a while I had to go upstairs to change my blouse as I’d managed to spill brandy on it. I couldn’t make up my mind which top to wear and so was up there a little longer than I’d expected. I finally made my choice and checked my appearance, and I was just coming out of the bedroom when I felt a strong pair of hands grasp my hips from behind.

“Hello, stranger. I thought you’d never come out from there.” As those strong hands spun me around, I saw Chris’s smiling face. Instantly I felt a warmth of joy and happiness flood through me, a welcome change to the stress and worry of Dave’s simmering anger with me throughout the meal.

Chris’s handsome smile made me feel so good as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to him, gazing into my face. He pausing, sensing the moment and reacting to my own instinctive smile he leaned in and kissed me softly. I responded with the same softness, but as the heat and need of our week-long separation built up softness soon gave way to hungry and urgent kissing.

Temporarily satisfied, he broke the kiss and I felt his warm breath in my left ear. “I want you so much, baby. I’m not sure I can wait till Monday. I want to take you into one of these bedrooms, and while everyone makes nicey-nicey downstairs, I want to push you down on one of these beds and fuck you within an inch of your life.” I could almost hear myself audibly moan with anticipation from Chris’s coarse words. My eyes were shut and in my mind’s eye I was picturing myself bent over one of our beds, moaning and sobbing as Chris forced his big cock deep inside me. Crying out time and time again as the six dinner guests enjoyed their after-dinner small talk, a delicious feeling of wanton naughtiness and need making me suddenly wet between the legs.

Chris’s hands were now cupping the two full orbs of my ass, pulling me close so I could feel the shape and hardness of his very erect cock, swollen with desire for me after nearly a week without each other. Shit, I wanted him so bad, but I just about had a small shred of self-control left, whispering a quiet ‘no’ into his ear, reminding him that this wasn’t part of my deal with Dave.

“Come on, honey. What does two days matter? I need you, Jill. And I know you want me just as bad. I’m sure Dave won’t mind.”

I was just about to reply, my resistance tank now running nearly on empty, but before I could speak I heard Dave’s voice from halfway up the stairs. And understandably he wasn’t a happy camper.

“No wonder you’ve been gone so long. And at least now I know who switched the place tags.” I was about to say something, but Dave didn’t give me a chance. “Well, if that’s how bad you want lover boy, and that’s how much our week together means to you, why don’t the pair of you just fuck off and leave the rest of us to enjoy the evening.”

I was stung and shocked. Dave’s normally the most mild-mannered and calm of people I know. But catching me and Chris making out like that, even after all he’d encouraged and allowed in the last months, had really set him off.

Before I had a chance to speak he’d stormed down the stairs, opened the front door and then turned back towards Chris and me. “Go on, you know where the door is. I’ll see you next week. That is if you can be bothered to still come home!”

And with that he went back into the lounge, giving me a look of daggers, then pulling the door shut behind him to give the clearest of signals that as far as Dave was concerned Chris and I were no longer welcome for the rest of the evening. Dave was booting me out of my own house, in front of six of my friends and guests.

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I had little choice but to go with Chris to his place. But there was no romance or sex, I was really upset by what Dave had done, and it took Chris some time to calm me down and talk me through it. Chris was the first to apologize, saying that it was no excuse but his feelings and love for me had got the better of him after a week apart. He felt very guilty and said he owed Dave a huge apology, which he’d give when Dave had calmed down a little.

With Chris’s help, I slowly gathered myself, and we both agreed that I’d better head home. Chris called me an Uber, both agreeing that him giving me a lift wouldn’t be smart, a possible red flag to Dave if he saw me getting out of Chris’s car.

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It was just before midnight when the Uber dropped me off at home, and I was glad to see that all the guests’ cars were gone. That is, all except one.

As I turned my key in the lock, I was glad it turned and that Dave in his temper hadn’t dead-locked the door. As I quietly shut the door behind me, I felt an intense feeling of panic and heart-break wash over me as I heard the unmistakable sounds of love-making coming from upstairs. The moaning and sighing, the sounds of a bed moving rhythmically as a man pumped his hips up and down for his woman.

The car outside belonged to Gemma so as with tears in my eyes I slowly climbed the stairs I knew what I was about to find. Ever the optimist I hoped there was some other explanation, but of course, my tears and fears were well-founded. Through the slightly ajar door to our bedroom I saw the unmistakable and heart-breaking image of Dave’s torso thrashing around above Gemma’s body. Her thighs parted wide to welcome my man deep inside her, as she moaned and sighed with every thrust of his cock into her body. Her hands and nails deep in his hair as their mouths stayed locked together throughout the whole time they made love.

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I think it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Forcing myself to stay in that house, that night. Staying in the bedroom furthest from our bedroom, but even this distance and the closed-door preventing me from hearing the sounds of their love-making.

A huge part of me wanted to run and run fast and far. But another part of me said I’d be damned if I was going to be run out of my own home by another woman. I had nothing personally against Gemma, but Dave and I had scrimped and saved to buy this house and build our family home. And however much I might be crying and hurting inside, it was my home and I wasn’t about to run off and leave her alone with my husband in our house.

You might think this was stupid and illogical, after all, that Dave and I had done with other people over the last few months. But this was different. Very different. This was the first time we’d done something without the agreement of the other. It felt like a huge watershed moment for us.

I might have started the ball rolling with my moment of weakness with Chris, but Dave had taken my small mistake and magnified it a thousand times over by what he was now doing with Gemma. I’d hoped that like me, he might have reflected. After all, even though I’d gone to Chris’s place, it was to think and talk when I’d no other choice as he’d virtually kicked me out. But not for a minute did I think of jumping into the sack with Chris.

And I’d hoped that Dave might be equally as upset as me and that when I returned home we could have talked it through. But instead I found him pounding away between Gemma’s outstretched legs. Enjoying himself like a horny teenager, rather than a mature and thoughtful husband.

I knew that the next day was going to be one of the most important days in our twenty-four years together.