As I stepped through the front door, anxiety washed over me like prickly heat. The assured confidence and empowerment I had felt earlier in the day began to fade around the edges. I had been so confident about my actions when it happened, but my moral compass flickered as I entered our marital home, suggesting that I had done something wrong.
My husband smiled warmly when he met me in the hallway, but I sensed something was off with him, too. There was an awkwardness between us, as if we had become strangers in the hours of my absence. His strained expression blended love, regret, and shame - not a delightful combination to boost my confidence.
Robert hugged me and held my hand almost desperately.
"Hi, Rebecca. How was Karl?"
"Hello, Robert. Let's go upstairs and talk, sweetheart."
"Okay."
In our bedroom, I kissed him softly and held his hand, wringing his trembling fingers, anxious, wondering if I'd done the right thing.
He wanted this, not me.
But it felt so right, and now it feels so fucking wrong.
I flipped off my stiletto heels while my husband stared thoughtfully at the floor. I waited for him to mull everything over and consider his position while rubbing the back of his hand with my thumb, trembling from head to toe.
Eventually, Robert summoned the courage to look at my face. He pursed his lips, and his eyes sparked like a lightning rod when struck - his manifestation of jealousy.
He looks uncertain and jealous.
Oh fuck! What have we done?
Robert's eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed as he prepared to ask a question, the answer of which I feared he may not like. When his voice croaked, my heart thumped loudly, so damn loud that I thought it might crack a rib or explode. My mouth was parched, as were my lips, until I licked them.
He coughed, wet his lips, and took a deep breath.
"Did you do it, Rebecca?"
"Yes, honey."
"May I see, please?"
"Of course."
With shaking fingers, I lifted my dress hem. Robert's eyes sparkled excitedly as he stared at my thighs. His cheeks burned, and his chest heaved as it fed a choking sound at the back of his throat.
My husband was suffering the most significant dilemma of his life.
Robert knew he'd lost his wife - at least partially. There was no going back from Karl for either of us, and I knew there would be other lovers, too, some already occurring to me. My husband stared at my panties for a whole minute, and I imagined the dark staining on my white cotton fronts that must reveal I had done as he asked - no, as he begged.
A desperate look flickered when Robert glanced at me; his eyes reflected my terror.
He doesn't know what to do.
I nodded down to my panties.
"You do it, sweetheart. We must create rituals and boundaries."
"Okay."
My husband's trembling fingers felt icy and stiff against my skin when he slipped them inside my underwear waistband. I panted, closed my eyes, praying for my salvation, then opened them and stared at my husband, terrified of his reaction once everything he had wished and begged for was confirmed.
Robert paused with his fingers holding steady between my skin waistband, my panties not fully eased open, at least not enough for him to glance down and inspect my shame inside them. He sniffed deeply and smiled.
My husband's demeanor suddenly changed, and he seemed confident.
"I'm not afraid of what I will see inside your panties, Rebecca."
"It's Karl."
