I woke in a cold sweat, my husband's light, steady breathing beside me. "Breathe," I coached myself mentally. My eyes fixed on the ceiling as I struggled to get my emotions under control. It seemed to get closer, to press down upon me. Then it blurred, disappeared before I realized my eyes had flooded with tears.
"Get it under control!" I chastised. "Peter can't see you like this. How would you explain? Could you explain?!" My chest refused to move though I desperately tried sucking air in. My torso had been replaced with what felt like an empty pit that left me feeling sick. I continued to sob silently as the pain traveled to the back of my throat.
Peter stirred, and I froze, terrified of him waking to find me in this state. My body was rigid. My breathing stopped until I could sense that he was still asleep. I forced my legs over the side of the mattress, sliding as inaudibly from our bed as possible, like a ghost, creating no movement to rouse him.
Inside the bathroom, I placed my hands on the cool marble counter, locking my elbows to brace myself as my full weight fell on my arms. My head dropped to my chest. "Breathe," I reminded myself. Shaky breaths filled and then deflated my lungs. I studied the teardrops I saw form tiny puddles on the countertop.
"You've broken your marriage vows," my mind reeled. "What are you doing? Are you really in love with Steven?" Images of his face floated through my mind. His smile. His warm, chestnut eyes. I could hear his voice, feel the softness of his hair, taste his kiss. The bliss from the hours before filled my head, and my breathing slowed, becoming more normal. I couldn't regret making love to him. I couldn't deny the pleasure we had shared, the awakening that had occurred within me. Peter had never stirred those feelings, even when we had dated.
"I love him," I murmured. Calm seized my body when the confession slid from my lips. "I do, I love him," I repeated in my head.
I splashed water on my face, looked at my face in the mirror, and smiled. "I love him!" echoed again.
I stalked back to our bed and slipped timidly under the covers. Peter stirred again, waking this time. I rolled to put my back to him, but his arm swung around me, his hand fondling my breast. I could feel his stiffness as he pressed against me, moved my hair, and started kissing my neck and back. I tensed before reminding myself to act normal.
Peter's arm pulled me to face him, and we kissed. "Breathe," my mind said. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing into him, and imagined Steven. Peter climbed on top of me, pushing my nightgown up and sliding my underwear down my legs. I can feel the wetness of my cunt oozing into the hairs surrounding it as Steven's face loomed above me. The roughness of a thumb brushed my clit, and I opened my eyes, startled to see the reality of Peter ready to enter me. I clamp my eyes shut again when I felt his hardness pushing inside of me. It hurt a little because I was so tense. I forced myself to relax.
It doesn't take long for Peter to finish. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, then my mouth. "Good morning," he trilled. "Wow! That was great, honey. Morning sex, can't beat it!"
"Mmm," I respond wordlessly as Peter gets up. I watched his bare, naked butt walk to the restroom and close the door. Then I buried my face in the pillow for a moment to compose myself before I faced my day, work without Steven, and then dinner at home with Peter.
Hastily, I retreated to the shower once Peter was done. I know this will afford me time to compartmentalize things in my head before truly having to face him.
"You should have jumped in with me," he smirked.
I smiled and kissed him on the tip of the nose. "Then you would be late. Better get a move on as it is!"
Each time I went into the office at work, I couldn't help but reminisce about Steven and me making love on the desk. I swear I can still smell him. Like a spirit in the room, I can feel his touch, his kiss. I spend more time in the office today!
Steven and I both had the next day off. He called me to invite me to lunch like he has done so many times before, and I couldn't wait to see him. However, I'm jolted by his somewhat haggard appearance when I arrive.
"Hi. Are you okay?" I inquired.
"I haven't slept very well since the other night. You know...when we...," he trails off.
"Oh, I understand."
"We shouldn't have done that."
My face must have fallen at that point because Steven continued, "Oh, not that it wasn't great or that I didn't
want
to, because I did. It's just, you know, we're both...married."
"No, I understand. I've been feeling guilty too."
"Yes! Exactly!"
My eyes roved his stricken face searching for evidence of the same emotions I was feeling, desperate to find some shred of commonality, so I don't feel like a fool. Was this just sex to Steven? I couldn't bring myself to believe that. Was that because it isn't true or because I don't want it to be true? Steven recognized the struggle behind my eyes and gripped my arms, pulling me into an embrace.
"I love you," I hear him say over the sound of his heartbeat. Then we break the embrace. After all, we are standing outside in public.
"I love you too," I declared. Our eyes spoke volumes to each other in those few moments. They spoke of love, tenderness, want, desire, pain, and struggle. Both of us feeling the same things, grappling with the same demons, succumbing to the same emotions.
"We can't do that again," Steven stated. I nodded in agreement.
One afternoon Steven and I met at a secluded park in town with spectacular views of the river. We had the park to ourselves, and it seemed we were in a world all our own, no one to uncover our secret. Free to cuddle together, warming each other against the cooling autumn breeze. As we sat on the bench, Steven's arms around me protectively, me sitting in front of him leaning back against him, he tells me about growing up-playing tennis, attending college but not using the degree in History he earned as he strokes my arm.
