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“You look great,” Alice said. “Did you get your hair done? And I love your make up. You must have been up early this morning.”
Oh sure Alice, that will be me doing my hair and make up last night before I lied to my husband and went out. Then I had hot illicit lesbo sex all night with a woman I have just met, absolutely no sleep, no shower and I am still wearing last nights clothes. In fact, I am surprised you can’t smell sex on me. Because I can, and I vary from kind of liking it and thinking about her, to being horrified at myself and my actions.
“er… thanks. Anyway,” I pulled myself together and decided to keep the madness of last night to myself. It felt like a dream. It felt crazy. The more and more I thought about it in the cold harsh light of day, the more and more mad it felt. What did I think was going to happen? Lyra and I were going to run away together and live happily ever after? She was the kind of woman who could have anyone she wanted, anytime she wanted. And what about Simon and life as I knew it? He might find out or he might not. Or I might confess. I wasn’t really sure on the finer points of infidelity as it was not something I had ever practiced or even considered. Yet there I was, deep in infidelity territory.
It had to stop.
The Lyra thing.
Lyra.
It had to end. Seriously, there was no future there. What was I going to do? Just come screaming out of a closet I had never been in and be all super-gay all of a sudden? Get a divorce? Everything is so serious when you are a married grown up with a house. It isn’t as simple as just saying I don’t think I want us to be together anymore. It’s not you, it’s me, I think I might be gay. Maybe not totally, maybe just a bit gay or a bit bisexual. I’m not sure yet. Sounds like the ravings of a madwoman. I needed to end the affair with Lyra before it started. Surely once was more than enough.
Text to Lyra:
‘Hey, I just wanted to say thank you for last night. I had a great time and I am so sorry to do this, but I’m married and I’m not gay and I need to focus on my career. I think it is just better that we leave it where it is- at one amazing night that I hope you enjoyed too. J x’
I put my phone down and got back to work. Alice and I set off for the surveillance job. As we had finished handover with the previous team and got settled in position with a good view of Daniel Lorenzo’s house my phone beeped.
Text from Lyra:
‘It was perfect. You are perfect. But I understand. I won’t push things. You know where to contact me if you change your mind. L x’
I stared at the phone screen. ‘You are perfect.’ A complement unlike any other. Perfect. I smiled to myself. I had never felt the way that reading this made me feel. Warm inside. Special, I guess. As though I was maybe more than I had thought that I was.
The remainder of the surveillance dragged. Lorenzo didn’t leave his house. We watched him in the golden glow through his windows. Watched his lovely wife putting his beautiful children to bed. We watched them move around their big family home as though watching a doll house with live occupants.
11pm came and we handed over to the next surveillance team. I have never been happier to make it home to my home. I let myself in quietly and crept straight into the shower to scrub off the days work, the scent of her and the stench of my infidelity. Water as hot as it would go, hoping it would somehow purify me and absolve me from my sins. A warm clean towel on the heated towel rail that Simon had left for me. I let myself into our bedroom where he was asleep and folded myself into the depths of the duvet. My skin smelt of strawberries.
I sat up in bed under the safe cloak of silence and darkness listening to the ticking of the clock and the regular rhythm of his breathing. Time ticking away towards a conclusion. Would he find out? What would happen if he found out? What was happening to our marriage?
6
I chose to forget Lyra. To forget this ‘phase’. I worked hard over the following couple of weeks to push her from my mind, to move
on with my life. I deleted her number from my phone. She is one of those rare people in the modern world who doesn’t use social media, so my facebook stalking was in vain. It became easy enough to immerse myself in work. There was so much to do. Yet, I felt a nagging emptiness inside. As though the life that she had breathed into me was slowly being exhaled. I did the things I should have done with Simon and tried to improve our marriage. I tried to be home from work in reasonable time where possible. I booked us a table in our favourite restaurant for our wedding anniversary. I remembered our special couple things, trying to integrate them back into our life. A lazy day off together watching a box set on Netflix under a duvet. A long walk in the lazy autumnal sun in the Peak district. Sex.
The sex made me sad. The familiarity of his hard muscular body on top of me and inside me was no comfort as I felt distant and detached. I faked interest; I faked excitement; I faked orgasm. And I hated myself for it. I cried to myself quietly in bed after he fell asleep, satiated by my body and my acting skills. It was the moment that said to me dismally: This is it forever. This is your life. This is the bed you have made for yourself and now you must lie in it. This is your marriage.
Nevertheless, I persisted. I spoke to him honestly (well honestly apart from the Lyra part) one evening. I said I wasn’t happy and I felt distance between us. He sighed loudly and looked baffled. Confusion crossing his handsome face and dark eyes and I felt guilt at the core of me. He explained to me that this was married life. This was what happens. That the energy a relationship has at the start becomes replaced by an abiding love. A love that lasts through the ages. He spoke of how normal it was for levels of desire to wax and wane. That we were lucky because we had this happiness and comfort with each other. That we lived harmoniously together. That he honestly thought we were an ideal match.
His intellect and calm demeanour were qualities that had attracted me so much in the first place. I wondered if he was right and thought that perhaps he was. That what we had was indeed a healthy marriage. Two people who could be together unitedly and long term. We never argued. He had these fatherly qualities that sometimes made me feel like I was an errant child. Although he was only a couple of years older than me, he somehow had all this wisdom that he would impart to me when I needed to hear it. That was how I felt then, like a naughty child hiding secrets. I should be able to be happy with him. I owed it to us both to try.
The following day at work I had to investigate a car wash that we thought Lorenzo’s crew were using as a front for drug money. At this stage, all I could do was go in and have a look around and ask questions to the Polish guys who were running it. We didn’t have enough intel to be able to get a warrant to search the property. Our intentions were to push them and rattle them to try and force Lorenzo’s gang into making errors. It went much as predicted. Pawel Ryszkowski, a good looking blonde gym buff who was in charge was abrasive, defensive and confrontational. He had absolutely no desire to answer my questions or help me in any way. His snakey eyes darted around as we spoke and his broken english got significantly more broken as he realised I was Police. I sighed as I walked out, frustrated, yet hopeful that my visit would have the desired affect and shake things up.
I headed back to my car whilst checking emails on my phone and literally bumped into Lyra. It was a second before I realised it was her, cool as ever, her bewitching eyes hidden under sunglasses, her dark hair falling around her face. It was as though I had been hit with ten thousand volts of electricity. I was so flustered.
“Lyra,” I stammered.
“Jen. Hey. I was just heading home. I’ve been in town for a meeting with a new client. What are you doing here?” said Lyra.
“Oh, you know. Just work. Just following up on some leads,” I tried to put my phone away and fumbled with my bag and dropped my phone. “Shit.”
Lyra gracefully retrieved my phone from the pavement. I couldn’t stop watching her. Her hands. Her elegant long fingers. She pushed her sunglasses casually back on her head and her blue eyes dazzled in the sunshine. She passed the phone to me and as her fingers touched mine I jolted.
“Thanks.” I said.
“Do you want to come back to mine?” she asked.
