Author's notes.
If you don't like a cheating wife enjoying life with a husband who adores her, then don't read further. Go out in the garden, take in the sun or shovel snow depending on the time of year.
The events themselves all happened, although I may have embellished my recollection of them somewhat. I will confess I happily use poetic license and perhaps wishful thinking when it comes to remembering our conversations and what was said - rose tinted glasses and all that and maybe a bit of ''I wish'.
***
Chapter Eight.
In the immediate months after Clive's departure to pastures new in London; Sandy didn't go out looking for other dates, and as far as I knew at the time didn't 'go' with any other man. Our own relationship seemed to carry on, we had an energetic love life, we went out together, did all the things couples do, but still, sometimes Sandy seemed distant. I know Sandy will disagree with me, but it was as if she was lamenting a lost love, a lost relationship, perhaps feeling regret. In the back of my mind I had this nagging question, 'Was Sandy sorry she'd stayed, was she wishing she'd gone with him to the bright lights?' Inside I didn't really think she was, even so, we can be our own worst enemies, and I was.
Sandy and I had arguments as any two people in a relationship do, only now they were sometimes used by me as an opportunity to point the finger, to accuse Sandy of 'her' regret at not having gone with him. Sandy says she knew at the time, whether I did or not, that I was trying to unconsciously sabotaging our relationship on my terms so as to take some kind of control over what I saw as our eventual breakup. In hindsight her 'mental mumbo jumbo' courtesy of her training was probably kept us together because she didn't make it easy for me. Me making my accusations never helped resolve an argument but it did deflect from what we had been arguing about, with a furious and exasperated Sandy insisting her feelings towards Clive weren't anything deeper than one would have for a friend and mentor 'and fuck buddy' - and that was it.
I was well aware Sandy was still in contact with Clive, I suspected they spoke over the phone, after all she was travelling to London to visit him every other month - even so, I was relieved he wasn't around. Sometimes when we argued Sandy would openly express her regret that Clive was the first man we had introduced into our marriage. Citing my 'irrational discomfort' which she said had clearly coloured my opinion. Sandy even suggested we put a stop to my 'fantasies' as 'they' hadn't worked out.
I'll be honest, having opened up to Sandy as I had, and then to have that said to me - it stung a little.
To this day Sandy believes my dislike and our experience of Clive set us back a good two to four years.
years later, looking back, I came to realise my less than favourable take on Clive didn't necessarily stem from a personal dislike, but more from my own insecurity. My problems weren't with Clive but with my fears that Sandy wasn't as committed to us, to me, as I thought she was. Basically, the sight of seeing them being so close outside of their sexual trysts, and the thought of the two of them sharing an intimacy that excluded me had been too much too soon, it brought into question the trust I had in Sandy. I guess I began to feel, and please excuse the mixed metaphors, like a dead man walking, and that I was treading water waiting to lose Sandy to him.
With Clive's absence as it was, there was a reset of sorts between us, I admit I was happier. I still hated it when she would leave to go see him, hated watching her pack her travel case, after the first time, seeing the sexy underwear she packed, I would make myself scarce. It helped that when she did go, upon arrival she would phone to check in. I guess the calls made me feel that Sandy was coming back, that she intended to come back, and that nagging unwanted feeling that I was 'out of sight, out of mind' didn't weigh so heavy.
While Sandy was still visiting Clive we would talk, there were still unresolved issues. Sandy was especially wanting to know why I thought Clive hadn't been right for us as she genuinely liked him. She said she was confused, saying I'd told her I wanted her to be more open, that I'd wanted to be more involved. She wanted to know why it hadn't worked out as she had hoped. She was also keen there shouldn't be a repetition. Sandy confessed that when she and Clive decided to bring an end to their relationship, the main factor was the elephant that was always in the room, me...
Eventually Sandy did start to venture out again. She took a liking to eighteen to twenty something university types. I never met any of them, we didn't go out 'hunting' together, she'd called a halt to me being around and I missed the feeling of embarrassed humiliation that came from 'being introduced' before being discarded. Sandy was, as he saying goes, happy to 'love em, use em, and leave em'. It was like everything we'd said we'd try she now rejected and she'd gone back to her old ways. There was one big change though, and that was her use of condoms.
Around this time there was an increased awareness around what had been almost universally thought to be gay virus, it was now seen as something more and more, for want of a better word, mainstream. There was an increased worldwide emphasis on the need for safe sex regardless of orientation. So, no cream pies being brought home as they used to be.
But there was still dirty talk between us, we really liked erotic talk. It wasn't until I more or less forced myself onto her by fingering Sandy's wet pussy after her dates and Sandy wanking of my erection that she again began to tell me what she'd been up to, sometimes accompanied by an assertive request for me to go down on her.
When I did dive between her thighs, it was to her shrieks of laughter and joy as the aroma of sex and even latex was so heady and overpowering to my palette, I couldn't get enough. Sandy had clearly remembered how to press my buttons in a way I loved and she increasing enjoyed doing so. Sandy assured me many times over the years that she genuinely gets a real good to honest spine-tingling thrill from having our impromptu 'welcome home; sex,' and says it makes the extended sex that inevitably follows all the better.
For the following two years Sandy seemed happy to make do with those occasional one-night stands, and the occasional tryst at a party, without me of course - but there was no outrageous fucking spree. To the best of my recollection, the most dates she had with any one beau was three. My involvement was basically Sandy telling me about her dates as we made out, she'd be extolling and exaggerating their prowess as a sop to my 'wanting to watch' fantasies.
With Clive now a distant memory, and with Sandy and I better than ever and with us having been living together for a good few years I formally proposed. I did the lot, romantic setting, candlelight dinner, got down on my knee to hold out the most expensive ring I could afford and that I thought she would like. To my delight there was no hesitation on Sandy's part when she said 'Yes', plus there was no mention of caveats or any if's or but's. We set a date for twelve months' time. We also made the big decision to try and get a mortgage so we could buy a place of our own.
By this time, I was doing quite a bit of electrical/electronic contracting work under my own auspices and I was beginning to bring in quite a bit more, especially from 'cash in hand' work. The increasing use of programmable controllers in factory automation and the growing use of computers were also opening up even more opportunities, and with the skills base I had I was able to take advantage of them. Not only was I able to find work off my own bat, but other businesses were either pushing work my way or wanting to 'hire' me to do work for them.
While we were house hunting we came across a large rundown Edwardian era house, well more like an old parsonage. We both fell in love with it but I think for different reasons. Sandy was talking about the garden parties we could host on what was a pretty large (then overgrown) lawn to the rear of the house, as well as soirées and dinners in what would be a large dining room, she even hinted it would be perfect to raise a family. I loved it because I saw potential, it had small orchard, a paddock, two outbuildings, one of which I immediately earmarked for a workshop... The house was what is known as a 'Do it Upper' and getting a mortgage was relatively easy, Sandy's profession ticked a lot of boxes, surprisingly, me being self-employed and cash rich didn't.
***
Once the sale was completed, we knew with the basic work to the plumbing and electrics that needed to be done it would be a few weeks before we could move in to some rooms. The priorities were a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom and if possible, a 'lockable' home office/study for Sandy and the case files she had to bring home.
