Unfinished Business

I've very recently stopped believing in coincidence.

Everything happens for a reason, and every person comes into or out of your life for a reason.

Learn what you can. Speak your mind. Doing anything but only causes anxiety and regret.

I had filed the memories away in the bottom drawer of my mind, along with the lyrics to Blue Bayou and assorted other unfinished business in my life. Sometimes it's fun to pull out those memories that both make you smile and torture you with the "What might have beens".

He was my first college boyfriend. He was also my first glimpse of an actual adult relationship. I was no virgin, but I may as well have been for all the things he taught me. It started as just a crazy college night out with friends, and what I assumed at the time would be a one-time thing. Somehow it seemed like a great idea (I blame the rye shots) that we be Cuddle-Buddies, because cuddling is the best thing in the world (his words, not mine). I agreed, and so we cuddled until morning, but then he had other ideas and I was more than happy to go along - he was a lot more experienced and he gave me the first orgasm I'd ever had that wasn't self-induced. That he continued to pursue me after was hugely flattering, liberating, and all sorts of other feelings totally new to an introverted country girl.

He also taught me about avoidance - when he suddenly after a few months stopped talking to me. I always regretted never actually asking him "so, what's the problem?". He just ignored me until I went away. Step 1 in my journey to learn to speak up for myself.

I saw him in passing a few times over the years, and it never failed to be awkward. Things Done and Said, as well as things Undone and Unsaid, hung in the air even 15 years later when we ended up meeting again.

It was at a conference just far enough away from home that I had a hotel room - and a rare weekend away from home by myself. All the conference goers headed to the hotel bar that night to "Network".

His buying me a drink and asking me to dance brought back waves of nostalgia, and I thought it was just in my head how he leaned in real close as we talked (well, the music WAS loud), so close that our knees touched under the table. I could feel the space between us crackle and pop like static, and I had to avoid his eyes for fear of blushing. We joked about old times, "Ya, you kinda sucked as a boyfriend", "No, I really sucked as a boyfriend" (vindicating to hear him admit it), and how we started off back then as "Just Cuddle Buddies" (ya, that lasted about an hour).

I thought it would stop there - It had to stop there, because we were both married. We could only be 2 old friends catching up and herding some 15 year old elephants out of room. Based on the fact that we were both married, and I was so comfortable with him due to our past history, I decided to ask his advice on an issue. I didn't mean for it to be a come-on, but then my social skills lack polish and because of the wine my Brain-Mouth clutch did not engage.

Fact was, I had found out a few months before that my husband was cheating on me. I had not yet decided how to handle this information because my husband (of course) was acting like nothing had changed. We talked about it a little, and the party moved on. We got separated and I was ready to call it a night - said my goodbyes to the group I was with and headed back to my room to think about what to do.

When the elevator doors happened to open in the lobby, he was standing there.

Everything happens for a reason.

Either the reason was that the universe wanted to see how far my willpower would stretch, or something important was supposed to happen between us that night.

"Good Night," I said, "thanks for the dance and the talk. See you tomorrow?" I asked as I stepped off the elevator within an arms distance.

I looked up at him and felt that static crackle again.

"Are you sure you're ok?" he asked, "I mean, do you need to talk more? I can walk you to your room if you want."

Was it a Proposition? I couldn't tell. Did he Honestly want to hear this? I don't know. Was he thinking "wow, she's vulnerable and I can probably get her into bed?" Maybe.

Still, he let me vent and I completely unloaded the whole story.

Life was great, our marriage was amazing, and we were the best couple we knew. Other couples saw us as the standard they were judged against. That's what I thought too until the day I decided to do a little snooping on his phone to see what he had planned for my birthday. Curiosity mangled the cat in a grain auger that day when I saw the incredibly graphic text messages he was exchanging with some girl named Darlene. A quick search on Facebook (because really, what can't you find out on Facebook?) told me she's an old schoolmate of his who now lives in a town that he frequents for work.

A lot.

An Awful lot recently.

I went through several stages of grief, betrayal, anger, depression, some stages were revisited more than once. Do I admit I snooped and confront him? Do I chalk it up to 7 year itch and, as long as he's still a loving and attentive husband and dad, let it slide? What if he leaves me? Should I leave him? I'm so dependent on him as a stay-at-home mom, how will I manage? No, I'm strong and independant, I can do this on my own!? My confusion only grew.

I agonized over it. I prepared for it. Would it be a Fight, or a Discussion? I was fairly certain he would be more mad about me snooping than I was mad about the affair. It actually developed into a game of "Cheater, Not-A-Cheater, or Depends-on-the-Situation". I had an extensive list of scenarios and we went through them and would discuss which term fit the situation. We agreed to tell each other if any of the situations had happened since we had been together, and there would be a one-time amnesty for such actions (because we'd never actually discussed what constituted cheating in our marriage). Did just text messaging count? Did it have to be touching? Did Fantasizing about someone else count (if so, I was guilty a thousand times over)? So many questions came up that I'd never even considered in our 10 years together. How long has this been going on? Have there been others? Was he with someone else while I was pregnant with his children? He'd always been (and still was) so attentive, loving, encouraging and supportive; A Great Dad and an amazing Family provider.

I wasn't trying to "trap" him into any specific answer - ANY answer would have been something. I was trying to give him an opportunity to fess up in a supportive conversation instead of a confrontational one. That he pretended to be so open and honest while saying "Nothing has ever happened with any other woman but you honey" was, in itself, an answer of sorts.

I'm now married to a cheating rat-bastard and a masterful liar all wrapped up in a handsome, muscular package that I know loves me, doesn't want to leave me, and doesn't want our lives to change. So, if the latter half of that statement is true (and I believe it is), and whatever happened has only made him MORE attentive and MORE loving and MORE appreciative than ever - do I really still need to know the details? I think I did.

Being rather analytical about the situation, I figured I needed to do more research. I can't say I was wholly prepared for the rabbit hole I fell down while chasing my feelings on this, but here's what happened.

I discovered there are actual dating sites only for married people looking to have affairs. Reading some of the profiles on the site, a trend emerged. A lot of men truly love their wives. They don't want their home lives to change at all, but you can't always get everything you need from one person. A lot of them weren't looking for sex (although most of them were).

They were looking for a connection.

A spark.

Even if it would never go beyond winks and chat messages. Was that really cheating? I'd always thought it was. Was it the same as reading/viewing porn? I didn't think so. But now? I'm not so sure.

If you can have fun and make a real connection with someone, and it makes you more appreciative of everything else in your life, makes you love your spouse even more because you got to take a little vacation, can it really be that bad?

If you are both secure and committed enough in your relationship, and the attention from this other person was just a huge ego boost - why should you have to feel guilty about it?

So after analysing all these new and interesting notions, I was still undecided what to do. I did finally admit to myself that I wasn't so mad about the affair - I was madder that he didn't tell me when I served him up the opportunity to confess - with amnesty - on a silver platter.

I was even madder that, in the past, I had purposefully avoided friends or even removed good people from my life because I felt a spark and was afraid my husband would be mad for me even thinking of having any kind of feelings for someone else.

I thought we were very much on the same page - and then he does this.

Revenge was not on my mind at all, but my feelings about what is considered cheating in a marriage were now definitely up for debate.

So my old college boyfriend was more than willing to be a shoulder to lean on that night. He asked pointed questions. He let me vent. I unloaded the entire story and all my feelings of (at first) Insecurity, then newfound Perspective, and now (new to me) Empowerment about my control of the situation.

He vented his unhappiness with his family situation as well - he loved his son so much, but he and his wife basically hated each other. If it weren't for their son, they wouldn't be together. His wife had even told him "not to bother coming back to their room tonight because she didn't want to see his face anymore". Hindsight, we were moving closer and closer together - bonding in a way that I think should be allowed outside of a marriage, but until now had been considered off limits.

At this point I still honestly thought nothing else was going to happen. It was very late (or early depending on how you look at it), so I suggested a slumber party in my room - PJs required. There were 2 beds after all, what could possibly happen?

We're laying in separate beds and still talking. He says "So, we never did get that Cuddle Buddies thing down pat. Should we try again?" and he crawled into bed with me. Again, I honestly though nothing was going to happen (yes, I know, I'm so naive), and then he kissed me. Part Nostalgia, part Hormones, part OhMyGod ThisManIsSexy AsHelland HEwantsME (of all people). We made out like teenagers in the back of a pickup truck at a bush party.

I couldn't breathe - I was so overwhelmed. I had to push him back, make him stop, just for a second to catch my breath. Thinking back to 7th grade English, the literary term is dilemma. A decision must be made and fast - and I'm anything BUT quick on my feet. I thought I'd feel ashamed, worried, wrong. But I didn't. I felt good, I felt in control, I felt empowered. For once I didn't feel anxious at all. Everything happens for a reason.

I looked him in the eye and my throat constricted so that my voice was high and squeaky when I said "I really want to do this, but I need to know you won't tell. Promise me you won't tell".

He said "I have just as much at stake as you do, but we have a lot of unfinished business you and I, and I think we need to see where this goes. I promise I won't tell."

That permission sang across my eardrums like the voice of an angel, or maybe a siren. Time will tell.

I didn't care.

I'd be ok.

I felt ok; More than ok.

I had a hand on each side of his face as he leaned in to kiss me again, his hand on my hip pulled us closer together in the bed. My one hand ran up and through his hair as his other hand snaked behind my back, completing the embrace and pressing my chest to his as we kissed. My hands went to his waist and up his shirt - I needed to feel more skin. They settled with my palms against his chest, my fingertips tracing his collarbone as he moved his head to kiss down the side of my neck. His one hand kneading my hip was so strong; he lifted me effortlessly into a sitting position, partly curled in his lap so I could lift his shirt over his head.

He took the opportunity while my arms were up to curl those long fingers around the sides of my ribcage and lay me back down on the bed. One hand touched my cheek, then my neck and ran lower, down between my still clothed breasts, while the other travelled from my knee to my thigh, pushing my black nightgown up and out of the way. I caught a wicked corner of a grin when he realized there were no panties to remove. My eyes closed and my back arched because it felt so good when both hands rubbed my stomach. I raised my hips up off the bed slightly so I could feel more pressure from his hands. They ran from my stomach to my hips and down the front of my thighs, then gently spread my knees so he could lean down in between.

Time slowed down, at least in my head. It seemed like it took hours for his mouth to move the last 4 inches between where I could feel his hot breath and when he actually touched me.

I jumped like I'd been shocked - it really did feel like electricity. Warmth spread out in waves, and I've never felt so open and willing. So un-self conscious. So Present. His hands on my thighs tried to hold me close to his face, but I could not stop moving my hips. His tongue felt so alive and everywhere all at once and then one hand left my thigh and moved lower.

I tensed for a delicious moment as I felt fingers enter me, adding an extra wave of electricity to my already over stimulated pelvis. My hips lifted and my knees froze, my legs started to shake and I realized there was a constant moan coming from deep in my throat. My hands rubbed back and forth across my stomach involuntarily.

So close, so fast, I could hardly believe it. A few more strokes of his fingers with his lips softly pinching my clit and I was consumed. Done. Over the edge. He stayed with me as my hips bucked I don't know how many times (thank goodness for cowboys knowing how to hold on), until my shaking legs gave out and I was spread eagle on the bed - still in my nightgown.

He kissed my one hip as his fingers traced back and forth over the other, seeming to know that I needed a minute. I reached down and brushed his hair back off his forehead so I could see his face. Blue eyes rolled up to meet mine for just a second before he turned his attention back to my skin. He kissed his way from my hip up and across my stomach - lifting my nightgown with him as he went. My legs were still useless, but I managed to sit up and reach back to unclasp my bra. He took advantage of my position - arms stretched behind me - to grasp the front of my bra and pull it down.

I heard his breath catch in his throat - oh no, suddenly insecure as I tried to bring my arms forward. He managed to move quicker than my insecurity and caught my shoulders, firmly but gently holding me at his arm's length with my bra and my nightgown all bunched around my waist.

I froze, not quite sure what I was waiting for.

Approval? Disgust? Outright laughter? My brain flipped through the possibilities faster than I could comprehend. I know my body is not the same at 33 as it was at 18 - was he expecting it to be? I couldn't look at him until he finally let out his breath in a soft moan.

"I've been waiting a long time to see that again" he said quietly, then looked up at me and leaned in for another strong kiss. He seemed to wait for me to proceed - he still held my shoulders and my body was still stiff from the sudden halt and distraction of insecurity.

His reaction was so flattering, so perfect.

I reached up and stroked his forearms, traced my fingers up his hands to his fingertips where they rested on my shoulders, and then moved his hands slowly down my chest until they covered my breasts.

I felt his grin widen against my lips and he pulled back enough to look down at my hands on his hands, and what they now covered. He continued to explore my chest gently as I reached down to grasp my bunched up clothes. I heard another small moan of protest from him as I made him break contact to lift the nightgown and bra up over my head.

Again he took advantage of my raised arms to pull me closer and reach for my nipple with his lips. I had to wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling. His mouth on my breast tightened muscles low in my stomach almost painfully and I moaned my pleasure into his hair as he lowered me back onto the bed again.

Suddenly his weight was on me - firm and hot, but not heavy. Our upper bodies pressed together and so did our hips as his legs moved over and in between mine. I touched his face again, ran a finger across his lips. This was really happening, he really wanted me, no matter how much I had changed - or maybe because of how much I had changed.

But my thought was interrupted when he moved to find the right angle, and the head of his erection rubbed across my clit. Electricity jolted me again and I had to bite my lip not to scream. I was already so wet that he was sliding everywhere but my center where I needed him to be - or maybe that was his plan. I counted two thrusts that raked across my swollen clit before I couldn't stand it and reached down to help him aim.

My mind went blank. I was all feeling, no thought. Feeling full, feeling wanted, feeling pinned to the bed with my face pressed up to his chest and my arms around his ribcage.

My hands were grasping desperately for purchase on his back through I don't know how many thrusts.

I remember hearing a frail NO escape my mouth when he suddenly lifted off and out of me. I remember being confused as he moved - what was wrong? But as quickly as his hips had left the space between my legs, his face once again replaced it. I was happy that stimulation had returned to my swollen skin, but was still confused until he maneuvered a knee to each side of my head.

I don't know how he could think so clearly, while I was such a puddle of sensation on the mattress, but somehow I managed to understand what he was hoping for. I reached up beside my head and felt his thighs, then ran my hands up to feel his muscles - so round and hard. I opened my mouth and lifted my head just slightly - he was right there. He momentarily froze and then shuddered as my lips moved further up and I took more of him in my mouth.

He stayed still - I think savouring - until I felt his tip touch the back of my tongue, which was as far down as I could get at this angle. I moved back down, lapping with my tongue as I went, until I could plant a kiss on his head before lifting back up off the pillow and taking him in my mouth again. I was beginning to enjoy teasing him with my tongue while he dangled heavily just above me when he resumed his tongue swirling on my clit and added his fingers gently rubbing the inner edges of my labia. A moan from me resulted in a reciprocating moan from him, and he moved his knees slightly closer to the headboard - stretching out. My head was now effectively pinned down with him in my mouth.

He had complete control from above me and could thrust as fast or deep as he wanted. I had a millisecond of panic, and he noticed. He held still, but did not remove himself from my mouth. "Are you ok with this?" I heard from between my legs.

That he was asking permission - that I was actually the one in control, made all my muscles relax at once. Most of all I felt my throat relax and knew I could take more; wanted to take more. I nodded as well as I could and, with my hands on his hips, pulled him down as far as I could. He moaned and arched his back, and I didn't mind that I was forgotten for now. My hands stayed on his hips so that I could push back if he went too deep. The angle was still not perfect - I couldn't take him all - but he seemed to be enjoying the attempt. I was so into it that I actually cried out more when he suddenly pulled himself from my mouth than I did when he pulled out of my pussy.