Author's note: This is my contribution to the 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover stories. Hope you enjoy.
ALISHA
The timing has to be perfect. I cannot let my anxiety cause me to make a mistake at the last minute. It has taken almost six months to get this right. I can't blow it now.
I am Alisha Walker, just turned 45 and am about to make a major lifestyle change. I have been married to Bill Walker for just over 20 years. We dated and were later engaged for an additional five years. We have one daughter who is in college. Our 25
th
anniversary of our first date is this Friday night. He is sentimental about things like that. Bill has arranged for a special dinner for us at our favorite restaurant. Unfortunately, he is going to get the biggest, worst surprise of his life.
Even now, I love the big lug. Our first few years of marriage were ideal. I had no doubt that we would spend our lives together. Oh, we had to work hard and share chores especially after our daughter Elizabeth was born. Bill made me quit work until she was old enough to go to school. Once I went back to work, our primary goals were to pay college for Elizabeth and build towards our retirement. Our bank accounts have soared from increased income from work promotions and raises, Bill's wise investments, and inheritances from our deceased parents.
I completely supported Bill during this time. Although we would disagree at times, we never really fought. We made love on a regular basis and fucked a few times when one or both of us was particularly horny. I never, ever considered cheating on him even though I was hit on regularly by men at the office or even at neighborhood get togethers. It wasn't anything I wanted to do. I was satisfied with Bill. Now, I have to admit to being a hypocrite. I publicly professed condemnation of cheaters but loved to hear the illicit details of their affairs.
I had heard of women who were affected with Empty Nest Syndrome. Women are supposed to go emotionally haywire and become sluts or nuns. Personalities would supposedly change overnight. Personally, I thought that was nonsense. I assumed that having no children at home was a chance to enhance my and Bill's marriage. Elizabeth was mostly independent before she went off to college. It was rare for her to be home before bedtime. We were pretty much already used to it just being by ourselves. I saw no reason to prepare to change anything in my life. Maybe I should have.
With more time to think about myself, I had time to wonder if men still found me attractive. I finally decided to do something I hadn't done in a while. I looked in the full-length mirror without any clothes on. Where it used to be smooth, I was wrinkled. What used to stand out by themselves, now sagged. What used to be flat, acquired a muffin top. What used to be broad, deserved a wide load sign.
I started to take note of men's compliments and double entendres. Either I had not being paying attention or the interest of men other than my husband had dwindled. I started working out more, using more makeup, and dressing more to accentuate my finest qualities: my breasts. The admiration of men increased. I felt better about myself. Still, I felt I needed something more, something different, something exciting, something frisky and risky. I started reading cheating stories and watching porn on the internet. I began masturbating more and picturing my husband as my lover less.
When I reviewed what was going on at home, I could see no difference in how my husband was treating me than he had before Elizabeth left. That was the problem. It was the same old, same old. Oh, I got compliments from him and he never missed a birthday or anniversary. We still had our regular sex sessions. But they were the same old compliments and the same old sex -- nice but it felt like re-runs and not original episodes. I wanted a change, a boost of energy. I thought I was giving Bill the chance to give me the change.
I tried to interest Bill in different positions for sex or different techniques to liven things up. The poor dear did try, but there was no excitement for me. The sexual activities were different and okay, but it was the same old Bill with his same old dick that wasn't going to get any longer, bigger, or more talented. My only orgasms were fake. I don't think he had a clue. That's when I first began to consider finding someone to give me a thrill, maybe even become my lover.
My priority in finding someone new was first and foremost secrecy. Getting caught would kill me because it would devastate my husband and daughter. That meant no fake late nights working or overnight business trips. Hotels or times at his place or mine were seen as too dangerous for me. I began to think it would have to be an office romance during office hours. Even that would take careful planning.
As I looked at the possibilities from the office, I ruled out almost every man. There were a couple of nice single men, but I had heard them bragging about the sluts they were dating, including some married women. I could not take the chance they wouldn't brag about me.
Every day at home became more and more a drag. Our routine was stuck in a rut. Something had to change, or I would go crazy. Even new sex toys provided little more than a brief respite from dullsville. Then it, or rather, HE happened.
He was Darnell, Darn for short. Some other men would say, 'Damn' and then apologize they got his name wrong while laughing. Approximately six months ago, he came into a midlevel position at the office. The women all noticed his good looks and charm. I was afraid a couple of the women were going to try to rape him. They certainly did so with their eyes. Although he flirted a bit, he never seemed to pursue any relationship beyond cordial and professional. I noticed that he did seem to hold his gaze and smile a few seconds when he looked at me. My heart would flutter and I would get wet. Every few days he stopped by for small talk and ask me something about my husband or daughter. Very cautious and not alarming to anyone but my lust buds.
The first change in our relationship came when he asked to sit with me at lunch. I knew this might be the first step to what I thought I wanted, so I said yes. He immediately said, "I hope this does not mean the office gossip machine will have us as a 'couple' now."
I laughed and explained, "I'll take the risk. I could use a little excitement in my life right now." I don't think that I had meant, at least consciously, to let him know that my life was lacking something, but out it spilled. Too late to take it back even if I had wanted to.
Our contacts continued to be brief and random. I found out that his wife, Mary Alice, was from money and they had no kids. He talked kindly of her, but not lovingly. Her family did not want her to marry him. If they fought, she liked to use the fact in their arguments that she had married him despite what her family wanted, therefore, he should be grateful.
I told him about my daughter and how proud I was with her. I described being with my husband as comfortable, predictable, and unchanging. Gradually, I let him know that I was not happy with my home life. I eventually hinted at the lack of enjoyable sex with my husband. I didn't tell Darnell I thought I needed another man to have sex with. He figured out what I needed on his own.
Darnell made me aware he wanted us to be more than friendly colleagues. I shyly confessed I felt the same way being fully aware of the road I was starting down. We took precautions. We were careful not to 'look longingly' at each other. No touching and no overt flirting. We perceived everyone assumed we were friends who were happily married to other people. As a smoke screen, I even teased Ted, another man in our office, about him being my "office husband" and told him he needed to up his game to stay "married" to me. The diversion appeared to work.
Things finally escalated the day we just happened to find ourselves in the elevator by ourselves. Darn pushed the stop button. I guessed correctly why. He brazenly attacked me with a passionate kiss that I returned eagerly. Hands quickly explored all over each other's bodies. In the minutes that followed, everything was forgotten except pleasuring each other. I didn't want to break it off when he released the button and the elevator moved. All he said was, "We need to talk." I nodded my head and hoped my fluids were not running down my legs before I got to a restroom.
I got nothing done that afternoon except think of our time in the elevator. There was a tiny bit of guilt, but a lot of a 'I want more' feeling blocked my guilt. Darn called me and suggested I tell my husband I had to stay a few minutes late tonight. I wondered if he was wanting to go further in our sexual exploration that night. I hoped so.