Cheating Fest – Just fine

The desire, that one which once burned in my soul for Cecilia, has been gone for
so long that I can barely remember the strength it once had. I should be past
this stage in my life; I shouldn’t be able to fall in love again, not now, in my
late forties, not again, not for someone like Eloise, so young. And Eloise
shouldn’t be able to fall in love with me, she shouldn’t be able to even look at
my face and consider me someone of the opposite sex; no, we should have met and
not be interested in each other, we should have just spent the time together
that life asked us to, not stealing glances and giggling too much, or telling
stories to make ourselves more interesting, not telling each other that we both
love best sellers about lawyers and that we both watch the same TV shows. And
life, so horrible all the time, shouldn’t have been benevolent and given us so
many opportunities to be alone, to talk so much, to know each other, to play
daring word games that had only one meaning.

Cecilia is waiting for me, right now, having heard my car enter the garage. She
has made yet another dinner, one that neither of us is really looking forward
to. I’ll walk in, I’ll say hello, she will ask me how was my day. I always say,
“fine”. Today, it was not fine. It was the most horrible day of my life, and it
was the best day I had in twenty years.

Eloise’s body was so wonderful. So inviting, so new and fresh, so lustful and
eager. She wanted me, she really wanted me, the dampness and the heat and the
glassy eyes proved it to me. She didn’t fake anything, she didn’t rush to get to
the end–but she didn’t linger either, she licked and sucked me with pleasure.
It was not evening in a dark room, I didn’t know how she would move, what words
she would mumble, I didn’t know she would grab my neck as if her life depended
on it: it was fresh. Her breasts were small but firm, ripe, pointy like I always
wanted and never had. She smiled afterwards, she kissed me and lay her head over
my body, her hand gently and slowly carressing my chest. Almost two hours of
pure bliss, the weariness and the guilt.

Cecilia won’t know what happened. She can never tell when something bad has
happened. That time I was about to lose my job, the time that moron
eighteen-year-old crashed into my car, the time I ran over a dog. She won’t say
anything. I’ll go upstairs, have a bath and then come down. We’ll watch TV and
have dinner. Then we’ll go to the bedroom and we’ll fall asleep.

I had never cheated, never, ever before. I had two chances to cheat in my life,
two good chances. The first was at a party, before I met Cecilia, back when I
had my first real girlfriend. I wouldn’t have cheated her for anything. I just
wouldn’t, even if she and I were sleeping with each other. I never slept with
Selene. Then, four years into my marriage, there was Paula. Paula, who was a
mild slut. She couldn’t get me into bed–I thought about it, I did, I know, it
fueled some fantasies, I even pretended Cecilia was her once–but I didn’t
relent to the idea. I told her no. Actually, I just didn’t let it happen. She
didn’t mind. Other men in the office were ready to give her what she wanted.

Eloise wanted it. I could tell from the way she moved and shook, from the sudden
changes of her breathing, from the words that came out of her mouth. That was
what struck me the most. That she wanted it, that she desired sex, that she
chose to do it even if it was wrong; she wanted me, of all men, she wanted to be
mine, to have me in her bed just for the sake of it, not for gaining some
advantage, not because she wants a new pair of shoes or a new bathroom sink.

I spent the rest of the afternoon thinking, what will happen later? Will this
keep going on, for months, as it seems that it is going to? Will Cecilia find
out, someday? Will I fall in love with Eloise? With the way she touches me, the
way she speaks, quietly, when she wants to say something important? I had such
an easy life, everything settled…

“How was your day?” Cecilia asks, just after I enter through the kitchen door.

“Fine,” I answer, with a whole new meaning, and I discover I like it. “Just
fine,” I repeat, savoring the word.