I don't know but I think every man wants his wife to be desired. He's proud of her. Other men's envy reminds him how lucky he is. He's proud of himself for having her. More to the point, a man needs reassurance that his wife likes sex. It's easy to begin wondering whether a woman really enjoys sex or only pretends to because she likes what sex brings -- children, financial security, a compliant husband, a relaxing aid to sleep. He's reassured therefore to discover that sex for her can also be a compulsion. Not all the time, but on occasions when it suits her.
My wife Penny is very attractive but not at all flirtatious. There's no cheeky hint of sexual adventure in how she dresses or in how she behaves when she's out and about. Her image fits the person she is -- a respectable businesswoman, sensible and busy with her own plans. Woe betide the callow shop assistant who wastes her time with flirtatious chat. Quite often I'll catch a man giving her a second appreciative glance, but if I mention it, Penny laughs at me and tells me I have a dirty mind.
We make love twice a week, on Wednesday and Saturday, so regular that we don't have to discuss the arrangement. We'll shower and make sure we go to bed at the same time and that's enough. And although she seemed to enjoy herself, there's nothing expressive or performative about her lovemaking. It's nothing special. She lies there and I organise things. And let's be honest, I go through the same limited set of moves every time. It guarantees success and what's the point of upsetting her by demanding something new?
So what happened is inexplicable unless you agree that we were both in the grip of a holiday enchantment. Last year I had a larger than usual bonus from work and we were thrilled to book a holiday chalet at a pretty beach resort in the sun. It was more luxurious and costly than we usually allowed ourselves and we were looking forward to making the most of it. Maybe we were both a little overstressed by work and more eager that usual to get away.
It was late afternoon, the sun scorching and I was exhausted after an early drive to the airport and a tiring flight. We had to wait at passport control, for our baggage and for the transport bus. The heat was at its peak when we finally arrived at the resort. I got our bags inside the chalet and was eager for a rest out of the sun. Penny had paused to chat to someone. I sat down on the bed and began to pull off my sweaty clothes, searching out shorts and a singlet from my bag. Penny had still not appeared after I was dressed and I went out again to see what had happened to her. She was chatting to the man in the next-door chalet.
He wasn't anything special -- a large man, balding straw-coloured hair, older than me. They seemed to be standing close and he loomed over my compact wife who was laughing at something he said. Her hand was on her hip, head tilted back and she was watching his eyes as if mesmerised. As I watched, she turned her head to show off the turn of her cheek and her pretty ear. She knew I was watching but it was as if she was spellbound. Now she was so close that her breasts were almost against the man's forearm. My god, I thought, she's flirting with him.
"I'm putting on some coffee," I called out but neither seemed to hear.
Back into the chalet, I began to sort out the baggage convinced I'd been lied to by my own eyes. My sexy wife! Couldn't she have bumped into someone she knew? No. She was flirting. I laughed out loud and had finished the luggage and was fiddling with the coffee machine when she came in.
"What was that about?"
"What was what?"
"I saw you talking to that guy."
"Just getting to know our neighbour. He's called Leonard and is a businessman -- a successful one, I should think."
"You know what I saw? You were flirting."
She laughed easily, refusing to be embarrassed or to contradict me. "Is that what you think? He's good-looking and makes me laugh. I guess I made you jealous."
"No, but you were flirting. What did he say that was so amusing?"
"Are you're sure you want to know, lover boy? Maybe some things are best kept secret. I don't want to upset you."
"Come on. Don't be coy."
"Then you mustn't laugh. He said that I'd look good in a bikini and he was sure I spend a lot of time on the dance floor working off the calories. I told him I didn't dance."
"You fell for a bit of lazy flattery."
"Don't mock. I said I'm fit from gardening. He laughed at me and said that even hardworking people go on holiday to have a good time and I should try new things. Then he invited me for a drink and said we could dance. What do you think of that?"
I laughed, enjoying the awkwardness of the situation and my wife's predicament. "Maybe he glimpsed your inner slut. What did you say?"
"Idiot. I said not without my husband. You know what? The irritating man shook his head as if it was his decision, not mine. And he said you must neglect me and he'd make sure I had a chance to show off my sexy ankles. You don't believe me, but he said that!"
"I believe you. He's hardly original. And you said what? You turned him down."
"Wait till you hear what he said next. I'm on my own till my wife arrives and I like someone to keep me amused on holiday, he says, and I bet your husband would be grateful if I take you off his hands for the duration. I'm sorry, but that's what made me laugh. He said it with such matter-of-fact charm, as if he was asking for the loan of a beach lounger."
"So he's a joker. And you said ..."
"I told him off and said it was an insulting suggestion and he laughed at me and said he liked my attitude. He told me to repeat to you what he said. He says you'll feel honoured."
"So you've done what he wanted. Of course he admires you and wants you. Any man would. You're sexy and should show it more. But you have to admit you were flirting like a teenager."
I was teasing her, confident that she was as shaken by the offer as I was. She'd let tiredness and boredom get the better of her and shown the man that he amused her. Now she was stuck with his attention. I was struck by an astonishing vision of my wife as a courtesan, the woman of a powerful man kept only for his sexual pleasure. The image made me laugh out loud.
"Let me guess. After you stopped panicking did you flutter your eyelashes and tell him to try his luck?"
She slapped me. "In your dreams, but I like him and I admit I was flirting a little. He's fun and there's no harm in letting him pretend he's chasing me. I'm sorry if that makes you feel uncomfortable but I did tell him I wasn't going to let anyone seduce me. Of course that is except you."
"You think that'll stop him?"
She patted my arm affectionately. "I can look after myself. I'm glad you've not lost your cool and I think I may practise a little flirting as a holiday pastime. It can't do any harm. Most likely he's one of those men who's full of himself and likes to make indecent suggestions to a woman but runs away if she responds. It would be amusing to make him buy me a drink. We'll both flirt like mad and that will be it. No seduction. Haha." She giggled and shivered delightedly. "No way."
"You never know, you might enjoy it so much you want more."
"Maybe. Haha. But you mean you might enjoy it -- cheap amusement at my expense. I think he'll run the other way as soon as I show him that he doesn't frighten me."
"He already knows you're interested. And you're curious to know what it's like to be dated by a handsome stranger."
"Maybe. Why not?"
"You'll have that drink, then you'll want to see what happens next. A kiss, a bit of groping, trying to assess the size of his equipment."
She slapped my arm again. "Pervert. That's what men think. I don't think like that. He amuses me, nothing more. Does it make me a loose woman if I enjoy flirting with him?"
"You tell me. And to think we came on holiday to do all the usual things -- eat and drink too much, sunbathe, fall asleep over a novel. And within minutes of arriving you're dating a stranger."
"Idiot. I'm not dating him. But so what if I did? Is a holiday romance so unusual?"
