Happily Ever After_ - Benison Anne O'Reilly [73]
And when he unbuttoned my jacket and took off my bra and buried his head in my naked breasts still I didn’t say those words.
And, finally, when he hesitated above me, I didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘no’. Instead I reached up to softly kiss his mouth and beckoned him in, sighing as I felt the glorious release of tension and desire that seemed to have been building for so long.
The thing is I was never going to say ‘stop’ or ‘no’. I knew exactly what I was doing when I walked up the stairs to his apartment that night.
13
Stepping over
So, on the night of 27 July 2006, when most Sydneysiders were settling into their beds in the ’burbs after a normal workaday Thursday and an evening in front of the box, I broke my wedding vows and began an adulterous relationship with my co-worker and boss, Alex Andersen.
Sex - it should really be the most intimate exchange that occurs between two people but so often there is no emotional connection of any kind: the prostitute and her client; the gay man cruising toilet blocks for some quick satisfaction; even the loss of my virginity in the back seat of an old Nissan Skyline all those years ago. But for Alex and me, our first act of physical intimacy opened up a treasure trove of personal intimacies and I learnt more about him in that one night than I had in the previous six months of our acquaintance.
All night I tried to prise myself out of his bed. All night I failed. I was conscious that I did not have a functioning mobile phone and if Issy got sick and Mum wanted to contact me she wouldn’t be able to. I imagined lurid tabloid headlines - ‘Bad mother off bonking boss while daughter dies in fiery blaze’ - but still I couldn’t drag myself away. Alex’s bedroom had become my oasis from the troubled and confusing world outside, a world where I would have to face the consequences of my actions and acknowledge my new status as a faithless wife.
A very messy oasis as it transpired. When he’d led me to his bedroom Alex had tactfully turned on his bedside lamps, which spared me any worries of unflattering overhead lighting. Now that my eyes were no longer blinded by passion I noticed the untidiness. Not a horrid, fetid, stinky mess; just a normal guy mess - clothes on the floor, newspapers and empty coffee cups on his desk. This fitted better with the image I had from his work office.
‘Alex, your bedroom is a mess.’
‘I know. I would have tidied up if I’d known I’d be having company, but I didn’t. I certainly wasn’t expecting this. The good news is I washed my sheets on the weekend so you’re not likely to catch anything.’
‘I’m not really worried by it. It just doesn’t fit with the rest of your apartment, which is unbelievably neat. I can only presume your flat mate is the tidy one.’
‘Is he ever - he insists that I keep my bedroom door shut all the time. I tell him it’s unnatural.’
Well, he was certainly different to Tony in that regard. However, they did turn out to have a few things in common.
***
To know: of all the verbs used to describe the sexual act it’s that Old Testament one I most associate with this night. It was as though Alex wanted to know me entirely: exploring my body with his eyes, his hands and his mouth. I, in turn, began to know him: this dark-skinned, dark-haired, man-youth, so different from my husband, the only man I’d known intimately for over ten long years.
But there was an additional quality - a feverishness, a greediness - to Alex’s desire for me that night. He literally couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was as though he believed that this might be his only chance to experience these gifts and they would be snatched away again without warning. I’d had no thoughts on whether this was to be a one-off occasion or the start of something longer lasting. I couldn’t bring myself to think past the four walls of his room that night.
‘Tell me if I’m bugging you,’ he said as he ran his hands over my breasts for the umpteenth time that evening. ‘Part of me still can’t believe you’re here. And you’re just as lovely as I ever