If you're looking for sex, then this is not the story for you.
It is also self edited, consequently will be full of errors. If that irritates you, again. This story is not for you.
If you do read it, I hope you find a modicum of pleasure in doing so.
*****
"I'm having an affair."
I have to be honest, at first the words didn't register. I heard them, they were clear and concise, but my mind wouldn't, or couldn't process them.
She looked at me, as I placed another forkful of the delicious pickled pork in my mouth. "Did you hear what I said, Sal?"
I nodded, my mind unscrambling the words.
She repeated it, just for my benefit, "I said, I'm having an affair."
"I heard you Aria, you don't have to keep repeating yourself."
She had another bite of her dinner as she waited for my reaction. "The pork is delicious by the way." I mumbled.
"Is that all you have to say? I tell you I'm having a bloody affair, and you comment on dinner, good lord."
"Aria, can you please stop saying that god damned word." My tightly clenched teeth turning it into a hiss.
As the situation became a lucid thought, the questions started to appear, who, when, where, and of course, why. Trying to organise them into something, I asked. "How long?"
She grimaced a little, at least that was a positive sign, she felt at least some embarrassment. "A couple of months."
"A couple of months. I suppose, that explains the lovely dinner. I take it, this is it. Our last supper."
She looked momentarily uncertain, and nervous. "Last supper, I hope not?"
"Well, lets see if I got this right? You've been having an affair that's been going on for months. Here we are tonight, and you decided it was confession time. I assumed, that this little revelation would be followed by. You're leaving me."
She sighed heavily, her breath coming in a long soft exhale. "I see... No Selwyn, I'm not leaving you."
"Then why the confession? You're having so much fun, you just couldn't wait to tell me all about it and rub my nose in it."
My words had clearly agitated her, and she hesitated before replying with a waver in her voice.. "No actually. I've been plagued with guilt, and didn't want to carry on lying to you. It kills me. I hate it."
"You hate it, and it's killing you, not enough to make you want to stop, though."
"Sal, I had to tell you. It's been eating me up inside."
"So who is this Lothario?"
"Nobody you know, he's not from around here."
"That doesn't answer my question really, does it. Who is he?" I hissed gratingly.
Again she brought out the wince. "We work together, he is the produce manager in Teesdale."
"I'll ask again, who is he?"
"His names, Phil."
"So, Phil, the produce manager from Teesdale and you obviously get together on your weekly visits?"
"Yes."
"And, it's been going on for two months. What exactly were you trying to achieve here tonight Aria?"
"I have no expectations." She murmured softly, almost a purr.
She looked scared, and the tears were close, as she added. "I have heard people say how sexy and how much fun affairs are. All the sneaking around, the subterfuge, the lies. It's supposed to make it more exciting. All it's given me, is sleepless nights, and indigestion."
I could see the relief, on her face. A little colour coming back into her cheeks. "All right then, let's try a different angle. What did you think was going to happen after I heard your confession?"
"I don't know Sal, as I said, I had no expectations."
"That's not true and we both know it. Nobody drops a bomb like that, without having run it through their mind a hundred times or more. With seventeen years of what I thought were a happy marriage behind us. You know me well enough, to have some expectations."
She nodded slowly, a long resigned sigh escaping her tightly drawn lips. "Yes, all right. I expected you to explode, I expected you to yell and tell me what you thought of me."
"And then?"
"Honestly, that bit I don't know."
"All right, if you had no expectations, let's talk about, what were you hoping would happen? Were you expecting, forgiveness? Were you expecting to get kicked out? Me walking out? What exactly were you hoping for?"
"Forgiveness... No, not really. Acceptance, no that isn't right either. Maybe understanding. I hoped you might see this as a starting point."
"Starting point..." I barked, my fist slamming down on the table. "How in gods name could this be a starting point? Bloody hell Aria, it's the end, not the start. You have lived with me for seventeen years, and you honestly thought I was going to say, don't worry dear, we can get past this."
"No, I expected nothing, you asked me, what I was hoping for, I hoped you would listen, then see what I'm trying to explain. This tiny little dot, a point in time, could be the start of something wonderful."
The anger boiled away inside my churning guts, the food waiting to escape. "I guess the last question, is why?"
She shrugged, god that annoyed me. Such a blasΓ© response. "Why Aria?"
"I didn't go looking for it Sal, it just happened. It can be lonely, on those trips. When Phil suggested we go out for dinner, I was just happy not to be spending the night alone. Eating alone is lonely. He was pleasant, and over time it became apparent, we shared a lot in common, we had lots to talk about. He was complimentary, warm and funny."
"You thought you would repay his flattery with a quick shag then?"
"No, it wasn't like that. One night he came back to my hotel room, brought a bottle of wine, and, well, it just happened."
"I see, so, it filled you with so much guilt. Your words, not mine. Lets not forget how much you hated it. It didn't stop you going back for two months, why Aria, if it was so painfully bad, why?"
Her face twitched, as she grimaced. "I never said I hated it. I said, I hated the guilt, and the self loathing that always followed it. The way it made me feel afterwards."
"The sex was good then?"
She nodded, sighing resignedly. "Yes, the sex was good."
"At least we got to the bottom of why."
"I'm sorry Selwyn, I wanted to be honest."
"No, that's fine, I asked for it."
"Honey, you know things haven't been right with us for a while now. Things have been slow. We have grown so distant, more like friends than lovers. You must feel the same way. Our marriage as wonderful as it is, has lost something, the sparkle, the intimacy."
"Rather than talk to me, you decided, I don't know, oh, yes, I'll have an affair?"
"No, I took the cowards way out. I know that. I wanted to talk to you, I wanted to, I simply didn't know how to start. I mean, we don't go out any more. It's work, housework. Occasional parties at friends places, but you and me, we don't do anything any more. At night we watch TV, you work on your lap top. Even when you're sitting right beside me, we never talk."
Her words rang true. She was right, I had been feeling the same way. There was an element of truth in what she said.
"Sal, we hardly make love any more. God, we're lucky if we do it once a week. When we do get around to it, it's all over in a few minutes, and you're asleep five minutes afterwards. Snoring your bloody head off. It's wham bam, but I don't even get a thank you."
That hurt, it might be the truth, but it still hurt. "So, the sex is better with old Phil, from Teesdale?"
I could see she didn't want to answer. But with me staring back at her she nodded. "Yes, the sex with Phil is good. It's not as good as the way we used to make love. Nothing could beat that. Lately though, yes. It's better, and he does say thank you."
When I didn't answer, she added. "There's no intimacy any more Sal, In bed, you read, or answer texts, or emails. We don't cuddle, we don't talk. I don't know what happened, but we went off the boil. I know most married couples go through this at some point, but this seemed terminal. And, I'm not laying all the blame at your feet. I am just as responsible."
"So it was just easier to start an affair? What does that say about me Aria? Am I that unreasonable?"
"No, that's not it at all, I just didn't know how to approach you. How do you tell the person who means the most to you in the whole world that they're not doing it for you any more?"
"Am I that bad a lover?" I bit back caustically. If I was getting thrown on the scrap heap, then I wasn't going without a fight.