Just three months before our Silver wedding anniversary, completely out of the blue, my wife Anne calmly told me that she was going to sleep with another man. We married when she was eighteen with me two years older and after five glorious years she gave birth to our only child Chloe. Chloe is now at university studying law. I teach and am currently the head of a small middle school while Anne is employed as a PA and administrator.
The local university offered the best course for our daughter's studies so it seemed logical for her to remain at home rather than run up a huge student loan paying unnecessary accommodation costs. We did not want to deprive her of deserved independence so I had a huge dormer window put in and the attic made into a flat that was completely self-contained, except for the need to access through the main house.
Both her mother and I stressed that she was free to behave as if no longer under our scrutiny and Chloe was quick to take advantage of this licence. Unfortunately her first paramour looked like a flower power hippy left over from the sixties. He lasted little more than six weeks but our relief was short lived because the next young man she led upstairs had skin colour that fell well into the black category.
Actually he was very nice. He had short hair, a pleasant open face and an infectious sense of humour. Most importantly Andrew had the intelligence to be on the same course as Chloe. At first they split their nights together between his flat and hers but by the end of six months they were spending virtually every night in her bed. I would not have minded except the he took a long shower every day and they regularly came down to raid the deep freeze and pantry for their food, so I was only half joking when I told Chloe that I might have to start charging him rent.
Next day Andrew came to me to say eagerly that he would pay rent if he could move in officially. I charged him only a nominal amount. It would have been more had he had not sensibly said that he intended to keep his flat on for a while in case things did not work out between them
On the Saturday morning, Anne took my old estate and drove Chloe and Andrew round to his flat to collect his bits and pieces. I can't remember why I didn't do it and wish to hell that I had. They returned mid afternoon, and I did help carry his stuff upstairs while Anne started preparing the evening meal. After eating, as usual my wife and I retired in front of the TV.
Anne poured out our glasses of wine unexpectedly early but when I had taken barely a sip, she turned the TV off again and unemotionally announced, "You need to know that I intend to have sex with a man other than you."
It was as if I had been struck a surprise blow on the back of the head. My brain was in total confusion and of all the questions whirling around; the one that I illogically blurted out was, "When?"
"Tomorrow night, I'll cook the Sunday dinner as usual and leave when Chloe and Andrew go back upstairs."
I couldn't believe this. "Who is the bastard?" I snarled.
"He's called Jerome and he's Andrew's cousin but they don't look alike, in fact Jerome is totally different in every way."
"Then why?"
I could see that Anne struggled for an honest answer before she spoke. "For something different, something exciting. When I think of the future it frightens me. Looking back I can remember many excitements but what is there in the future except perhaps becoming a grandmother and there are worries about that. Andrew is a lovely boy and I don't see race when I look at him but I'm still not happy at the thought of Chloe having a mixed race baby because there's still a lot of prejudice in both communities"
She paused. "Also I feel that it doesn't matter what I do anymore. I mean it's not as if you really want me, Saturday nights are just a routine without any passion and you need porn to build up any real desire. It's not just you, I think we both do."
I knew what she was talking about. In the early years we couldn't keep our hands off each other but a combination of parenthood, careers, hobbies, tiredness and sheer familiarity had reduced our lovemaking to the one night a week except for rare occasions when an erotic theme to a TV film or drama inspired something more. For our Saturday nights, when there was nothing on TV we sometimes hired a film from a door to door vendor and when we knew Chloe was away for the night we made the film one of his under the counter porn ones. On those rare nights the passion occasionally approached the kind of level that was once the norm.
Anne was still speaking, "To tell the truth, I think I've been looking for something for quite a while."
"So when did you first meet this Jerome?"
"This morning."
"This morning," I echoed incredulously. "You only met him this morning and now you are going to let him fuck you. That is if you haven't already."
"We didn't go that far," Anne said looking straight in my eyes. When I didn't respond she explained, "When I got to Andrews flat, I didn't expect anyone else to be there but a very tall black man came out of the bedroom. He was naked to the waist wearing just pyjama bottoms. He was very black and very muscular but with scars all over his body. There was also a lot of gold, rings, bracelets, an earring and a chain round his neck that looked heavy enough to anchor a battleship. He also had a rather unpleasant face and I was a bit frightened of him. He didn't speak, just flopped down on the couch and lit what was obviously a joint. Andrew said that he was his cousin and Chloe whispered to me that he was hiding from something."
It seemed unreal. How could my gentle refined wife of twenty-five years possibly intend to open her legs for this thug?"
