Train to the City

AUTHOR'S NOTE: One morning my wife described the dream she'd had the night before, and this story was the result. There isn't a lot of sex in it.

As the train pulled into the station Daphne grabbed her overnight bag and her purse, just as she had done at the last three stops. She looked out the window at the platform, once again nervously fingering the straps of her bags. She waited in her seat until the train came to a complete stop, and the electronic sound signaled the doors were opening. She shuffled in her seat, glancing nervously around as a few passengers boarded, and moved to get up, but only managed to lean forward before stopping herself. She closed her eyes tightly, and forcing herself against the back of the seat, her body tense and rigid, teeth grinding in a moment of desperation. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, fearful that someone might see her and think something was wrong. A laugh formed inside her, imagining the conductor or a concerned passenger asking her if she was all right, if she was sick, or needed help. She would certainly explode, she thought. And it would all come out. She would confess it all, if someone would just ask. She would tell them everything, all of it, and they would nod their heads sadly, and at the next station she would get off, shamed and relieved, and go back home, and wait for David and the kids, and go back to her life.

She turned her head to see the open door, started, and stopped herself again, sitting back in the seat. Won't they ever close, she thought? At last, the tone sounded, and she turned away, hearing the doors slide close, muffling the sounds from the train station outside.

She exhaled, and eased her grip on the bags, but didn't release them. Mentally she counted her options: two more stops before Penn Station, then the taxi, the hotel. Five more opportunities to turn around, go back home, to give up and surrender. She felt the train lurch forward, and then they were moving, and she finally set her overnight bag aside on the seat next to her. She rested her head in the corner between the seat and the window, staring unseeing at the passing scenery, feeling the vibration of the wheels below her, feeling the tremendous power jostling her body. She closed her eyes, sighed, and remembered her morning.

*

She had executed her daily routine as she always did, but the entire time she had been distraught with fear that she would be found out, that David or the kids would see that something was different, that SHE was different. She took pains to mentally review her regular tasks, making sure that she did not do anything out of order, some small sign that would arouse their suspicions. No stray comments, no flippant remarks, and especially, nothing too obviously TRYING to appear normal. Everything, she'd reminded herself, must appear as it should be. She showered, and woke the kids, made their lunches. Alone in the kitchen she heard David in the shower, heard the kids fighting upstairs, and knowing she was alone for a few minutes, allowed herself to think of Todd. She stopped making sandwiches and stood still in her robe at the kitchen counter, thinking of her day, her plans, and her lies. She began trembling, nervous and fretting, convinced she could never go through with this. What a fool she had been to agree! She heard her breathing accelerate, unable to stop the shaking in her hands until she imagined Todd's arms around her, holding her, stilling her jitters, and the terror slipped away, and she regained control of herself. She finished the lunches and took out the cereal and milk and bowls, then stood for a minute more, collecting herself. She heard the shower stop, took a deep breath, and went back upstairs.

She stopped at the kid's rooms to check on them, told Savannah to hurry, and helped her make clothing decisions. She looked in on Colin; he was fine, and mostly dressed as usual. Then she went into her room, did her hair, and began dressing. She made small talk with David, telling him about Savannah's clothing choices, same as every other day, and listened to him talk about his planned day at work, but not really hearing.

*

Remembering now, she frowned. How their conversations had changed over ten years of marriage and children! When had she stopped listening to him? When did he stop asking about her? When did they stop talking, and start just chatting about nothing? How did it happen and she didn't notice? And how did she not care?

Oh, but she did care, now. Todd had changed her, opened her eyes. Todd asked about her, noticed her, let her know that she mattered; what she thought, what she felt. He asked, he listened to her answers, validated her concerns. She was important to Todd, and she felt important to herself because of it. And she loved him for allowing her to be a person, and her attraction to Todd excited and thrilled her, and terrified her beyond reason.

She loved David, loved being married, loved her children. It was her love that drove her every day to do for them, to live for them, getting them ready for school, making sure they dressed well, ate well, and had a clean house. Despite being a working Mom she devoted herself to her family. David worked long hours in the marketing firm, and Daphne worked full-time as the office manager in an insurance office. Mornings, evenings and weekends were devoted to her family, keeping the house, raising the kids, making sure the life she had built with David stayed intact, stayed right; not out of some misguided image of normalcy, but because the loved them, wanted the best for them.

*

It was that love for them that created the feeling of betrayal in her this morning, as she performed her long-practiced ordered routine, talking to the children, smiling at them, watching David dress as she did her hair. All the while her secret screamed to get out, tearing her insides apart. I am not going to work, she wanted to announce; I took the day off, I didn't tell you, I am going to the city to meet a man, and make love to him in a hotel room. I have been seeing him for months, I'm sorry; it was an accident, I never intended to love him, please understand, please, stop me from doing this thing.

Eating breakfast with the children, she kept her face expressionless, hiding her fear and excitement by showing nothing; lying to them by pretending nothing was different, hoping that she wasn't acting too ordinary as to be detected. As Savannah and Colin argued at the table she wanted to blurt out that she loved their Dad, would always love him, had never wanted to cheat on him, never planned this, and could they please forgive her? At nine and seven they were innocent, and would know nothing but her betrayal. I love you both, she'd thought, so much it hurts. I love your Daddy. But now I love Todd, too, and he loves me, and today I will go to him, to consummate our affair, and I am sorry. Sorry that my secret may change me, may change us. The temptation of confession raged through her, but she struggled it down, and silenced it.

Kissing David goodbye, telling him she loved him, she had wondered if he saw something different in her. She resisted the urge to hug him too long, kiss him too deeply, as if she was kissing him goodbye, kissing her old life goodbye. Don't be too stiff, she warned herself, or too needy, or too desperate. In the end she kissed him as she always did, and he gave no sign that he noticed her sorrow or her tension, but instead of relief she felt only further dismay at her silent betrayal. He was a good man, a good husband and father, and he was all she had ever wanted, until now. Until Todd.

*

The train pulled into a station, this one the last stop before Manhattan, before her last stop. Again she gripped her bags, ready to exit, to run home in shame and guilt if her desire allowed her. Again the doors closed, and the train moved on to her final destination, one stop closer to Todd, to meeting her lover. To a hotel room for the afternoon where they would culminate their love affair, where she would give her body to him, and she would enjoy his. The prior evening she had lied to David, said she was tired and her back hurt, and needed to soak in the tub. She had prepared her body in secret then, shaving her legs and under her arms, and trimming her pubic hair, shaving around her vagina for her lover.

She had done this only occasionally for David, and knew she could cover her deceit with another lie, telling him she had done it for him this weekend, but she had done it for Todd, only for Todd and her, for their first time together. She wanted to be special for him, to be desirable and hot and sexy, and the act of preparing herself had excited her. She had resisted the urge to pleasure herself afterwards, touching her lips to check for stray stubble, feeling the smooth skin of her labia, feeling her wetness coming, unbidden, thinking of the first time Todd would see her, touch her, and slip inside her. Despite wanting sex then, more than she could imagine, she had spurned her husband's advances, wanting to save her arousal for Todd, and making her feel wonderful and awful as she tossed fitfully into an uneasy sleep next to David.

"It's wrong," she whispered to her faint reflection in the window. You are a selfish person to do this, to lie to your family like this. You are a bad person, she told herself. If you do this thing, you will be a liar, forever; there will be no going back, no undoing what you have done. You will live your life as a sham, she warned herself, living your false life with your husband and your family, pretending that nothing is different.

But you will know.

Yes, she thought, she would know the deceit and the guilt, just as she knew the feelings she had for Todd, and the wonderful emotions he brought out in her, feelings she had not experienced in years; feelings that had caught her by surprise, sneaking up on her and settling slowly into her heart, taking hold before she recognized the danger. By the time she acknowledged them it was too late, and she could do nothing but surrender to them.

*

It had begun innocently enough. The met at work, on a project that involved her department with his, and they had discussed the details over a group lunch. She found him likeable and easy to work with, easy to talk to, despite being five years junior to her thirty-seven. The attraction wasn't physical, at first; she defended herself against that with practiced ease, although he was a treat to look at. He was tall, almost six-two feet to her five-four, and slim but not skinny. His business suits draped his frame elegantly, but his easy nature betrayed a boyish awkwardness in him that added to his attraction. He had a good face, not classically handsome, but his expressions played his features to make his appearance more than the sum of its parts.

She had met with him, in groups and in private, several times over the first months of the project, maintaining a strictly professional relationship, although in retrospect their conversations had a smarter, friendlier, more personal feel, and were evidence of a deep and welcome connection. Eventually their lunches and meetings became commonplace and more frequent, and slowly drifted into friendship, with work subjects occupying less and less of their time together. It had all seemed so innocuous, even as they became more familiar, discussing their lives, their likes and dislikes, exposing secrets to each other the way she had only confessed to her girl friends. The lighter, surface conversations became deeper, more intimate in a non-sexual way, and it was weeks before she realized how much she liked him; she had begun looking forward to their meetings and lunches, hoping he would stop by her office unannounced.

By the time she realized that she was developing feelings for him it was too late to separate herself. The project continued, forcing them together, and her attraction grew. She remembered the first time she caught herself imagining sex with him, what he would be like, how he would make love to her. Her shame and guilt overwhelmed her almost to the point of making her physically ill, and she had quashed those thoughts for weeks.

But they returned. And the second time she did not become ill, and later, as their relationship developed and grew, began to enjoy her musings; daydreaming about Todd kissing her, loving her, feeling him inside her. And then she caught herself withholding discussions of Todd from David, dropping him from their talks of work, and the pattern of her lies of omission began. She felt the guilt every time, but it did not stop her, and she hated herself for her weakness, her human failing, of liking a man other than her husband, and the guilt forced her to edit her discussions with David.

And then, just weeks before, was the cocktail party, celebrating a milestone on the project. She had told David, invited him, but he was busy at work and she had gone alone. Todd was not married, and they took separate cars, but she secretly hoped to spend more time with him, looking forward to being with him in a social situation. There was no danger of gossip; everyone in the office knew they were working on this project, had seen them in endless meetings and conferences. But this was different, and she almost felt it was a date, and her giddy girlish hopes elated her. Did he feel the same way? Did he think of her, look forward to seeing her? Did his heart leap in his chest when she stopped by his office, the way hers did? Did he lie in bed at night, as she did, dreaming of sharing his body with her, fantasizing about making slow, luxurious love to her, only to have it turn to hot, voracious sex?

That was the night he had kissed her, and she trembled in her seat now, remembering. He had walked her to her car early, when only the partiers were staying out, and as they reached her vehicle he had taken her hand and her heart stopped for a second. He looked at her under the streetlight, and their eyes did all the talking; his asking her for a kiss, hers telling him yes, it was okay, she wanted him to. And he leaned in, his lips touching hers lightly, his one hand gripping her fingers and the other touching her face as she turned her head up to his. Her arms went to his sides, and as the kiss deepened, slipped behind him, stepping into him, and he stopped kissing her for a moment. She panicked, thinking she had gone too fast, been too eager, but he looked into her eyes and she swooned as he released her hand and took her shoulders, pressing himself to her, and their lips met, mouths slightly open and she first tasted his tongue.

He did not grope her, or try to feel her up; no, he was a perfect gentleman, and they stayed locked in the kiss for what felt like hours, but was likely only minutes. And then the realization that she was kissing another man struck her, that David would be at home, waiting for her, and that he would kiss her, kiss the lips that had been on another man, and she pulled back, suddenly swept by fear and self-loathing, even as she swooned in her realization that her attraction to him was mirrored and matched.

She pulled back from him, tried to slip from his grasp but he held her, grasping her upper arms even as she squirmed from him, his eyes pleading with hers. "Please," she squeaked, wracked with guilt and fear.

"I can't," he whispered to her, and she melted, and her resistance fled and his lips were on hers again; pleasure and longing filled her from head to toe. She felt light-headed, her chest crushed against his, his arms around her, feeling suddenly safe and vulnerable and belonging, and she returned his kiss with a passion that shocked her even as she surrendered to her confession of love.

They stayed there, kissing and holding each other, until each was satisfied knowing the other had felt their relief in their admission, enjoying the release of emotion. She broke the kiss, settled her head against his chest. "I have to go," she whispered, and this time he released her, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I'm sorry," he returned, "but I'm not." He paused. "I love you, Daph."

"Me, too," she replied, and turned her face up to see him. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," he said. "But for tonight, you go home, and I go back to the party."

She agreed, and he opened her door, settling her into the car, and kissed her once again before closing the door. She didn't look back at him as she pulled away, but as soon as she reached the road she felt herself trembling and pulled over. He hands were shaking too much to drive, and she threw the car in park as the tears came and sobbed silently, feeling the guilt and shame overwhelm her, even as she felt the yearning in her chest swell and spread; between her legs she felt herself wet with desire, wanting him completely. Her nipples were stiff and hard, pushing out against her bra, and she cried through her conflicting emotions. How had she let this happen? How could she be so weak, so awful? Why did she kiss him? She felt terrible for allowing it, for enjoying it, and then was swept with an uncontrollable terror that he might never kiss her again; she wanted him, she knew he wanted her. She was in love with another man, and was crushed by the contrasting guilt of her betrayal and fear that she would lose him.

After a few minutes she collected herself, and checked her face in the mirror, fixing her makeup, hoping her eyes were not red and swollen. She had to face her husband, her wonderful David, whom she loved, who did not deserve this, and she had to lie to him, to hide herself from him. Could she deny her desires to his face, even as she acknowledged the feeling between her legs, enjoying the wetness and swelling Todd had aroused in her? Steeling her nerves, she pulled away from the curb and headed home.

*

The train slowed then, and she caught herself smiling, thinking of that wonderful night, that wonderful first kiss. There had been others, after; many times in the weeks that followed, each one a repeat of the first, each surpassing the first in anticipation and excitement. Even now, sitting here on the train, she could relive the feeling, and once again feel the dampness between her legs. But as she looked up, she saw the passengers preparing to disembark; the train had arrived at Penn Station, and once again her trepidation and the feeling of finality gripped her. She had to get off the train. But her hesitance struggled with her memories and desires as she made her way upstairs.

*

There had been times, after the first kiss, when passion had taken hold, and hands had drifted from arms and backs and waist, when breathing became heavy and hot, and whispered words changed from professions of love to expressions of desire and longing. She remembered the first time he had touched her breast, his hand over her blouse, cupping her, and the illicit thrill she felt. Nothing lewd or grabby, just a sensitive fondle, and soft words in her ear, telling her how good she felt to him, how it made him want her more, and a hint of what might happen in the future. And the next time, feeling his hands at her butt, pressing her into him, Feeling his hardness through their clothes, pressing into her belly, her pussy wet in response, calling for him, speaking to his hard cock through her pants, leaving her wet, and smelling her arousal on the ride home. She had masturbated in the car on the way home that night, without removing her pants, rubbing herself furiously, calling out his name in the car, alone, shaking with her orgasm, and then crying, begging herself to find a way to forget him, and knowing she could not.

That night she couldn't meet David's eyes as they made love, and she pretended he was Todd; above her, inside her, pushing into her, grunting, kissing her ear and neck the way David did. She remained silent throughout, hoping David wouldn't notice, afraid to utter a sound for the terror of releasing Todd's name as her husband pleasured her. She had wondered later if David had noticed her silence and thought something was wrong. She had lain awake, tossing and turning, and the next day set her mind to tell Todd it was over; she couldn't see him anymore, she couldn't live with the lies and the deceit, and she had steeled her nerves until she saw him, and knew instantly she couldn't live without him, and she went into the ladies room and cried.