An Innocent Question

[This is part two of a three-part story.]

INTERLUDE: CHRIS'S STORY

I can't honestly say I had a thing for Ellen. When I first met her, at my aunt's party, she was just one of many nice people I spoke to. I did notice her figure, though—she's carrying around a couple of extra pounds, but she has a curvy figure and great tits. Not just great for a woman in her 40s, they'd be great on anyone.

Running into her a few weeks later in Elgin's was a total accident. I wasn't sure at first that I wanted to eat with her, but she was so cordial and waved me over, and I didn't want to be rude.

It took me a while to catch on that she was flirting with me. If it had been a woman more my own age I might have picked up on it quicker. When I finally noticed, and watched for a few more minutes to make sure I was right, I felt kind of like a dork. Like, how could I have missed it, she was being so obvious?

Then of course I needed to figure out what I wanted to do about it. I've dated a few women since I've been at OSU, and gone to bed with three of them, but I don't have anything serious going on. And in fact the grad students I slept with were kind of a disappointment. A couple of them were very attractive, but none of them was particularly assertive or interesting in bed. Typical intellectuals, maybe—a lot more going on mind-wise than body-wise.

In any case, when I realized that Ellen was basically begging me to screw her, it didn't take me long to decide I liked the idea. Not only does she have a great body but she's a lot of fun, and I sensed we'd have a good time together. I'd never been to bed with a married woman before. I grappled with that for a minute, but since she was coming on so strong I decided that it wasn't up to me to be the protector of her marriage. That was her issue.

Once we got to her house, I could tell that she was both nervous and extremely turned-on. That was certainly flattering! So I took the lead, got her out of her clothes—she does have a fabulous body, never mind that she's not built like a model—and got things started.

It was the hottest sex of my life, without a doubt. Ellen was just desperate for it, and much more aggressive than my recent grad students had been. When I stroked and licked her, and then ate her out, she was just so responsive! She was really wild, like she was being given electric shocks or something.

And when we started to fuck it immediately got very physical and powerful, both of us slamming at each other. She's not the 'I'll lie here, you do it to me' type! After our first time I already knew it would be quite an afternoon, and it was.

We did it three more times, with lots of kissing, touching, and oral stuff mixed in. Sometimes we were gentle and slow, other times wild and forceful. I thought we'd be finished after the third time, but her husband wasn't due home until late. So we took a shower together, and before long we were hot for it again. It was amazing! Not only that we fucked four times, but that the intensity was so high. I've never seen a woman come so many times in my life.

Her pussy wasn't all that tight—she's 45, after all, and has two kids. But she was so desperate to have me, and she practically worshiped every part of my body. I've certainly never had treatment like that before! It was just an amazing afternoon.

I don't know whether we'll get together again. I am certainly up for it, but I'm going to let Ellen take the lead. She's the one who's married—and despite how much fun it was, I have no interest in breaking up someone's marriage. Maybe she and Dan are estranged, or maybe they have an open marriage, I have no idea. But I'm going to let the next step be Ellen's.

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DAN'S STORY

"Dan, I slept with Chris Doebe."

In the silence after she said it, almost my first thought was, 'there it is. I'm a cuckold. I was a happy, contented husband, and now I'm a cuckold.'

What a fucking cliché! The poor asshole who thinks he's happily married, except his sexy wife is getting banged behind his back by some younger guy. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that story....

Except this time it was me. It was me feeling the empty hole where my heart used to be, me wondering whether I still had a wife—and whether I wanted her.

If I were the kind of man who could hit his wife, I surely would have, at least once. But I'm not, it's unthinkable, and so I never even came close. But maybe that will tell you how angry I felt. It seemed like every muscle in my body was tensed and ready, like I could lift up a whole car all by myself.

I managed to keep my cool, pretty much, and I made Ellen tell me about it. She obviously wasn't eager to do so, and I had the feeling she was sparing my feelings about the worst of it—namely how incredible the sex was with Chris—but I certainly got the gist.

She'd had the hots for him for weeks, but thank God they'd only gone to bed together once. That was something, a small something. If it was true, and there was no real reason to believe it wasn't. She had confessed, after all, so why would she have confessed only to some of it if there was more? She'd just be risking my finding out the rest of it later.

In some ways what she told me, especially the immediate and overwhelming sexual attraction she had felt for Chris, seemed utterly unbelievable. Like something a creative writing major would dream up for her senior short story project. Except it was perfectly designed for this situation, tailor-made to excuse her adultery.

'I've never felt anything like this, I kind of lost my mind, he made me weak in the knees, I didn't know where I was or what I was thinking'—that sort of bullshit. Who would believe something as extreme, something as ridiculous as that? From my humorous, skeptical, feet-on-the-ground, eminently sane wife?

No, it seemed preposterous, except for one thing. I remembered what had happened to me with Bridget.

I considered staying with friends, but decided I'd rather be at the Marriott near the OSU campus. It was private, I could walk to work if I felt like it, and most of all I wouldn't have to tell my story to sympathetic friends—see their faces, full of sympathy and secret feelings of smug superiority ("Dan, that poor bastard—and he's such a nice guy").

I checked into my room, then had three quick beers downstairs in the bar, hoping they'd help me sleep. No luck.

You'd be amazed how long a night can be, especially between about 3 am and 7 am. And perhaps especially when you're contemplating your wife's adultery, and the possible end of your happy marriage after 23 years.

To have your peace of mind taken from you, suddenly, and by the person you love most in the world—it feels like being stabbed in the back. Or in the heart. Maybe like being stabbed in the heart from the back!

Anyway, it was a long night.

I dragged myself to work, determined to get through the day without talking to anyone about my problem or letting my misery show. I more or less made it, though a couple of people asked if something was bothering me. I said I was just tired, and that seemed to satisfy them.

After lunch I called a friend who works in the Counseling Center at OSU. I briefly explained my situation and asked for his help in finding a therapist I could talk to. He said he'd call me back. An hour later, he rang and said he'd gotten an appointment for me that day at 5 pm with Arthur George, a psychiatrist in private practice downtown. "He does a lot of marital counseling, Dan, so if the two of you decide at some point to bring Ellen into your sessions he'll be an excellent person to work with."

When I walked into Arthur George's office I liked him right away. He was older, probably mid-50s, but not at all stuffy. We were on a first-name basis from the beginning, and his warmth and kindness came through in a way that really made it easier for me to talk to him.

At his request, I briefly filled him in on my background, the earlier history of Ellen's and my marriage, our kids, and so on. Then we got to the reason for my wanting to see him.

I don't cry very often—and I was sitting with a complete stranger—but for about 20 minutes I cried my eyes out. I told him about the events leading up to Ellen's confession, the confession itself, and the aftermath.

I talked about how devastated I felt, how empty I was inside. How I couldn't imagine ever again feeling the way I used to feel about my wife.

"I used to trust her, Arthur, to feel safe with her. To know that she and I had an understanding that no one else would ever get in the middle of.

"And now—now I just keep thinking of her with him, I keep seeing them together. Lying on the bed with Chris, wild with excitement, begging him to fuck her. I see her lying back with her legs open, and him between them, pumping her. I see her squeezing her legs around him, bucking, humping at him, crying out as she comes again and again.

"My mind just won't stop showing me pictures. Her sucking his cock, and moaning as he comes in her mouth and she swallows it all. Him eating her, while she moans and shouts. Him pounding her from behind ...."

I stopped for a minute, overcome. He just waited for me to continue, sympathy in his eyes.

"Ellen tried to ... to downplay how great it was, the sex with Chris. But she was honest enough to make clear that it was very exciting. For all I know she can hardly wait to get into his pants again! Even if she never does, it won't be because she doesn't want to. It would be because she knows it will be the absolute end of our marriage.

"And that's hardly what I want, is it, Arthur? To be married to a woman desperate to fuck another guy, who's restraining herself only to keep me from throwing her out?"

I sat, breathing hard, trying to calm myself a little.

"You know what's so great about sex with your wife? I don't know that I ever realized this before. There's nothing to prove. I try to please her, because I want to please her—because I love her. And I know she tries to excite and please me.

"But I was never competing with anyone before, never felt that my 'talents' were being measured and judged, let alone compared to those of another man. I never felt I had to prove myself worthy of being her husband or her lover.

"And now . . . she's got this irrational, intense attraction, out of nowhere, for a younger guy. And she dragged him into bed, and he fucked her four times in one afternoon. And he clearly knocked her socks off. So of course she wants him again! And where the hell does that leave me?"

I was crying again and I didn't even care. I let the tears stream down my face, and I went on.

"I have loved Ellen since our third date, 25 years ago. She has my whole heart—she and the children have been my whole life. And now, now it feels as though it's all turned to dust."

Arthur waited a minute, then quietly asked, "do you know how Ellen feels now, and what she wants?"

"She says she loves me," I said. "I guess I believe her. And I think she's feeling very guilty and very ashamed of what she did. And afraid—afraid I'll throw her out, or divorce her. She doesn't seem to want that."

"Forgive me for asking this, Dan. What about Chris? What do you think she is feeling about him, and their ... afternoon together?"

I thought for a moment. "To be honest I think she's all mixed-up about that, Arthur. First, she had this crazy desire for him the first time they met, more than a month ago. Then, they must have absolutely fucked the hell out of each other last Friday. She tried to tone it down a bit in the telling, to spare my feelings, but I think he turned her inside-out.

"If I had to guess, I'd guess that she's dying to fuck him again. As I said before, the only thing that might stop her is the fear of losing me."

"And is she going to lose you, Dan?"

I looked at him bleakly. "I don't know. I love her, I know that. And the prospect of living alone in some small apartment, trying to rebuild my life from scratch, certainly doesn't appeal to me.

"But how do I go back home again? What am I supposed to do, say 'Hi honey, I'm home, all is forgiven'? How can I make love to her—when every time I close my eyes I see her with Chris, gasping as she comes again and again?

"And how do I trust her? How do I deal with every time she's ten minutes late coming home from work, or she says she's going out for a couple of hours to do some errands?"

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. I could feel Arthur's sympathetic eyes resting on me.

"We'll have to stop for today in a couple of minutes, Dan. But I want to ask you about something. The pain you've talked about is certainly understandable, for a man in what he feels is a strong, loving marriage who suddenly learns of his wife's adultery.

"But you don't seem as angry as a husband normally would in this situation. Why do you suppose that is?"

"Well, I certainly do feel anger, Arthur. When I think about what Ellen has done to our marriage—the damage she's done to it, damage that cannot be undone, because of her own selfishness—I get pretty damn angry!

"But you're probably right, I'm probably a lot less angry than another husband might be, and I'm pretty sure I know the reason why. I need to tell you about a woman I used to know, named Bridget."

"All right, Dan. We need to stop for now. Can we meet again the day after tomorrow, at this same time?"

I thanked him—genuinely feeling a little bit better—and left the office.

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INTERLUDE: ARTHUR'S STORY

I liked Dan right away. Now, therapists don't by any means like all their patients. Some of the people we try to help are very unpleasant, though we do our best for them nonetheless.

But Dan is a man who knows himself, and who's pretty comfortable with himself. He has a kind of dignity, without being the least bit pompous or taking himself too seriously. On the contrary, his sense of humor came through even in what was a very painful session for him, talking about the shock and pain of learning that his wife has cheated on him.

Two things were clear to me even before the end of my first session with Dan. The first is that he is not a man with significant psychological problems. Rather, he's a pretty happy and well-adjusted guy who just got hit by a bus (figuratively speaking). He needs to work through his injuries and decide how to go on with his life, but there aren't fundamental problems within his own character that need to be resolved.

The second is that he has, or at least had, a strong and loving marriage. By far the majority of cheating spouses are acting out their pain or disappointment in a troubled marriage—a relationship where there are serious issues between the spouses and where, almost always, communication and a sense of loving rapport have broken down.

In those cases, it's not uncommon that the marriage is beyond saving, or not worth saving. Alternatively, it happens that the shock of the adultery and its discovery open a door that can lead to better communication and the saving of the relationship.

But Ellen's adultery occurred within what seems to be a very strong married relationship. Although it's far too soon for me to say it to Dan, I am hopeful that that their marriage can be re-built. I haven't met Ellen, but from what Dan tells me I can guess that a divorce would devastate her. And it would also be a tremendous blow to Dan himself. He loves Ellen, and their relationship has given him a great deal of happiness.

The difficulty, of course, in both the short- and the long-term, is how the two of them can get past the pain of what Ellen has done to Dan. And I say "to Dan", because even though she didn't go to bed with Chris to punish Dan in any way (so far as I can tell from what Dan has told me), the effect of her actions has still been to cause Dan terrible suffering.

It appears that Ellen already recognizes, at least a little, what she has done to her husband. But there is much more that has to happen before he will feel he can return to her. In some fashion, even if only symbolic, she has to "make up to Dan" for what she has done. And the two of them must also work to create an environment in which Dan can once again trust Ellen—a hard task.

It may be even more difficult in this case because, if Dan is right, Ellen still desires Chris, and might be tempted to continue her affair with him. If she restrains herself from that step only out of love for Dan, her continued desire may be poisonous to her marriage even if she doesn't act on it again.

A final consideration is that Dan has his own story to tell, about Bridget. The fact of her existence seems to be mitigating his own anger at Ellen. Yet the absence of any signs of guilt when he mentions Bridget suggests that she is not a woman he had an affair with. Any further speculation about her role in Dan's life would be premature until I learn more.

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ELLEN'S STORY

"No—I don't want to spend another night in that bed—probably ever!"

That's how Dan ended it—the horrible conversation that began when I confessed that I'd had sex with Chris. He went inside, packed a suitcase, and left.

I did about what you'd expect—I cried half the night, then tried to pull myself together the next morning and get through the day. Thank goodness work was entirely routine, because I certainly couldn't concentrate. Just as the day before—was it really only the day before?—I had to fight myself not to keep calling Chris, that Tuesday I had to restrain myself from calling Dan.

I knew that, as angry and hurt as he was, he wouldn't do anything crazy. And I felt sure that he'd get in touch at some point, just to let me know where he was and that he was all right. It just felt to me like I needed to wait to let him do that, rather than calling him first.

Coming home to an empty house, and making a little dinner just for myself, brought home to me all over again the consequences of my stupidity. Is this what my life would be like from now on? Divorced, living alone, facing many nights of dinners by myself in the kitchen or in front of the TV? Was the man I loved more than anyone in the world except my children really gone from my life for good?

I couldn't believe that he was, and yet I knew that husbands and wives divorced their spouses for adultery all the time. No one hearing the story would blame Dan. "You mean his wife brought home a young guy and spent the afternoon fucking him in their bed? Jesus, poor Dan! What a bitch! And she seemed so nice when we met her ...."

After dinner I called my sister Diane. Five years older than I, she was my best friend, and had been since we were kids. She had advised me, protected me from our middle brother Jason (two years older than I was) when he was on the rampage, taught me about boys and clothes and make-up, and inspired my undying adoration.

Now that we were both grown-ups, with jobs and families and responsibilities, we were a little closer to equals. But I still looked to her for advice and support when there was trouble, and this situation certainly qualified.

Diane and her husband lived outside Pittsburgh, and we didn't see each other as much as we liked. But we spoke on the phone all the time, so she wasn't surprised to hear from me.

No sooner had I reached her than I was telling the story: my initial attraction to Chris, our day in bed together, my guilt, the hot night with Dan, my confession, and his angry departure. And no sooner had I started telling the story than I was crying, sometimes so hard I could barely speak.

It took poor Diane a long time even to get the whole story out of me, but she patiently let me tell it, offering sympathetic words and sighs where appropriate.

"My dear Ellen," she finally said. "This IS a bit of a mess, isn't yet?"