In this week’s story, a married woman has as much sex as she can with her ex-boyfriend while he’s in town: 39, married, New York.
DAY ONE
6 a.m. It’s Saturday and my alarm goes off. I hit snooze. Minutes later, the snooze sounds. I had four Aperol Spritzes with friends last night. At nearly 40, I should know better than to have that many.
7 a.m. Everyone is still asleep including my husband, who I peek at, in the guest room. We have been sleeping in separate bedrooms for months now. We’re like roommates, co-managing our kids. Throughout the ten years we’ve been together, I’ve pleaded with him to come together to work through our many issues, but nothing is getting better. I constantly feel unheard and dismissed. Having small kids has only exacerbated our differences. We haven’t enjoyed spending time with each other in a long time. He would say we are all good, but he’s totally checked out and he likes it that way, I guess.
11 a.m. We get up and take my son to his Little League game. A regular Saturday, the grandparents are here. But I can’t stop thinking about Christian and reread my sexts with him from last night. We met about 20 years ago through work in advertising. We dated for a while, but life has taken us both in different directions. Still, we’ve stayed in touch, texting a few times a year or even occasionally having an innocent lunch when he’s in the city for work.
He told me he’d be in town this week so I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I don’t know what’s different this time, but I need him now more than ever before. I need to feel seen by someone who understands me. And I need to fuck. My husband and I haven’t had thrilling sex since before having kids.
4 p.m. Work out at the gym before dinner.
6 p.m. We meet up with family friends for dinner at a dive bar with kid’s food.
8 p.m. Christian knows I live near the best doughnut shop in the city and suggests we get some in the morning, very early in the morning. Without hesitating, I say “Yes,” knowing very well it might not just be a pastry run. Ever since I got married, I’ve always been very firm that I would never consider anything more than friendship with him, despite our strong emotional and sexual connection. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined myself cheating …
10 p.m. He says, “Be prompt. I’d hate to have to spank your ass as a consequence of being late.” I am elated.
DAY TWO
6:11 a.m. My kids usually sleep until 7, and my husband even later, so I have a small window. I brush my teeth and throw my hair in a high pony. I remember how much he used to love pulling my hair. I don’t have time to shower or shave. I race down the street full of anticipation. I leave a note for my husband that I’m getting everyone doughnuts. It’s the weekend after all. It’s not unusual for me to wake up before everyone and go out for a coffee solo.
6:30 a.m. Part of me cannot believe he is actually here. We hug tight before I too eagerly jump into his car. He lives outside the city, in the suburbs where his main office is, but he has business here — he won a new client and is leading intensive onboarding meetings all week so he’s starting the preparation today even though it’s a Sunday. He asks how long I have. I tell him “Not long, but long enough.”
We park in a quiet spot in Chelsea, near the night clubs and art galleries where no one is around this early. We climb into the back seat and fuck. Hard. I tell him no marks. I am in love with kissing him. I’ve never loved kissing anyone more than him. He has perfect lips. But then he bites my lip, which is totally his signature move, and I instantly know it bruised ever so slightly. In the moment, I don’t care. I come quickly. It’s been years since I came that hard. It was over fast. Ten minutes or less. My head is spinning.
7:02 a.m. We drive back to the shop to get doughnuts, mischievously hug good-bye, and I walk home to my apartment.
10 a.m. After that, it’s a regular Sunday. Baseball game followed by lunch at a restaurant with friends.
4:30 p.m. I have a sound bath with my girlfriends at the gym.
10:14 p.m. As we get ready for bed, my husband says, “You’ve been so fun today.” If only he knew. I have zero regret. I wonder if I will eventually. Also, no one noticed my bruised lip all day.
DAY THREE
8:20 a.m. Headed to my office in midtown. When I get there, I share my location with Christian, just for fun. I now work in marketing and lead product launches for big tech companies. Typically, my days are incredibly intense and demanding, but we just wrapped up our latest project so I’m in a lull. I suggest he come find me later.
11 a.m. We decide to meet up this afternoon to take advantage of the limited time he’s in the city.
2:36 p.m. He picks me up outside my office. As always, he is impeccably dressed, since he’s in between meetings. We drive to the far west side, to an industrial area where he can park the car. While we chitchat, I can’t stop staring at his mouth. I just wanted him to stop talking and to fuck me.
3 p.m. Finally, we climb into his back seat. I fumble with his designer belt. He entertains the idea of using it, but I reminded him no marks. I peel off his clothes and climb on top. I slowly, teasingly, slide onto him, my body exploding with delight. We break from fucking and he does this fingering thing with two fingers inside me making that “come here” motion. All men do this, but no one knows how to do it quite like him. I tell him I’m ready to cum. We end tangled up in one another talking for over an hour before we have to return to work.
4:30 p.m. He drops me back at my office. As soon as he departs, he texts, “I yet again enjoyed the conversation, as much as the backseat.” I am riding high on life.
5:45 p.m. I arrive home and my dog immediately wonders whose scent is all over me. I shower and change ASAP. My husband is still at work and my kids aren’t done with their after-school programs until 6. I run to get them.
8 p.m. Another perfectly normal night with my husband and family; no one notices I’m different.
9 p.m. I order new ceiling fans. My husband promises he’ll hang them, but I know they’ll sit there for weeks until I have to call our handyman. Who, by the way, is super hot.
DAY FOUR
6:24 a.m. I send Christian a quick morning nude. He replies, “Good god, woman.”
8 a.m. He sends a photo of an empty floor he’s discovered in the building he’s working in. High risk, his favorite. I’m not sure how this will possibly work, with me getting into the office building and the security guards of it all, but I trust him. I need to see him again. I tell him I’ll meet him there before work.
8:56 a.m. I walk right into his building and take the elevator to the floor he’s directed me to. It’s the longest elevator ride up. Everywhere I look in this building, there are cameras. The doors open to an entirely quiet, dark and empty floor, just as he described. He leads the way to a corner office with no windows and a door that locks.
9 a.m. We go on to fuck for an hour. On the desk, in the swivel chair, on the wall and finish on the floor. I yet again effortlessly come for him.
10:04 a.m. I get on the subway to go to midtown.
8:12 p.m. Our texts are constant … about the meaning of happiness, memories, movies, songs. We share selfies. We share memes. We share ideas about places to have sex.
My husband and I are in our respective rooms doing our own thing. I myself find my husband’s ineptitude shocking. Or maybe we are just so far disconnected he doesn’t care? Although I have zero suspicion, I wish he was doing this too — having his own fun on the side and prioritizing any sort of happiness.
I’ve been processing the idea of divorce slowly over the past year but especially tonight. I don’t think it’s crossed my husband’s mind.
DAY FIVE
7:09 a.m. Christian texts me a nude from his car. I am immediately wet.
11:26 a.m. I’m at the office again, but I can’t do anything today except think about this dick.
5:22 p.m. I meet my best friend for happy hour, during which Chistian texts. She asks, “Why so much grinning at your phone as of late?” I play it off like the babysitter said something funny about my kids. I do have a childish grin plastered all over my face. I think it’s nearing time for me to tell her — I just don’t want to ever put her in a situation where she might have to lie on my behalf.
7 p.m. I meet my husband and the kids for dinner at my dad’s, who also lives in the city. My dad has always cooked with love. He makes maybe the best chicken dish I’ve never had tonight.
10 p.m. I share the chicken recipe with my besties and with Christian, who I know from our younger years is also an incredible cook.
DAY SIX
5:44 a.m. I wake up to find a video from Christian coming in his shower.
8 a.m. We decide we need to meet up at a hotel this afternoon. After all, he’s done with his work in the city tomorrow.
10 a.m. I do some mental gymnastics on how I can arrange my workday to make this hotel outing happen. I decide to just fake sick and take the whole day off.
12:55 p.m. I arrive at the hotel and slip into new lingerie that I pick out at Fleur du Mal on the walk over.
1:16 p.m. I check into the room first, then Christian arrives and we kiss deeply. He tosses me onto the bed. Missionary this time.
3 p.m. I remember that I got him a gift. It’s a Burberry tie I picked up with the lingerie. I tell him I want him to tie me up. We do that, then fuck again.
5:20 p.m. On the subway home, all I can think about is how I love being in a relationship with a man who is both a gentleman and a savage in bed.
9 p.m. We text about desperately needing to get a secret apartment together.
DAY SEVEN
7 a.m. I wake up feeling strange and sad. I know he’s going back to his real life and real work schedule today and beyond that, he’s traveling out of the country for a vacation with his family for two weeks.
9 a.m. While I settle in at work, I’m preparing myself for the fact that we won’t talk much during those two weeks. I’m already aching to see him again.
1 p.m. He texts to ask what kind of souvenir I’d like from his travels and tells me he doesn’t plan to be out of touch — that he and his own wife are so distant she is unlikely to notice any extra time on his phone.
6 p.m. I go through our scheduling for the upcoming few days, trying to get organized and back on track. I take a minute to think about my husband’s and my upcoming therapy appointment. I’m not sure it’s going to do any good, especially since I can’t talk about how this week with Christian reminded me of the old me, and how I miss her, and how I’m not sure she can exist in this marriage with my husband.
9 p.m. I text Christian, “the best days always start at the doughnut shop.”
10 p.m. I rarely cry, but as soon as I try to fall asleep, I can’t stop the tears. I miss him, devastatingly so, already. I know, without question, that I will always love him.
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