The Adulterer's Handbook Read online

  “Dave, mate, I need a massive favour.” We’re alone in the staff toilet.

  “Name it,” he says.

  “I accidentally sent a rather personal text message to my wife which was meant for someone else. Then I panicked and said you’d pinched my phone and sent the message as a prank.”

  “Oh cheers, mate! Why me?”

  “Well, you’re the biggest prat I know!” I wink. “So can you help me out? It’s quite possible my wife’s going to ask you about this at the Christmas party. All I need you to do is say that you did it.”

  He sighs. “I’m not going to come out of this well, am I? What about my reputation as a cool, suave, ladies’ man?”

  “I’m sorry, Dave. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t extremely important.”

  “Okay,” he says. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who the message was really meant for.”

  “Your mum!” I punch him lightly on the arm and head back to my office.

  ◆◆◆

  I love Tamsin more than anyone in the world, so why am I cheating on her? Could it be the excitement of an affair or the pleasure of passionate sex? So different from the routine, mechanical, functional sex we’ve been having for the last few years. We both end up satisfied because we know how to get each other off, but where’s the fun? Where’s the lust? Where’s the passion? It’s always the same. Nobody goes to their favourite restaurant and orders the same meal every time, month after month, year after year. After a while it becomes monotonous and you begin to crave variety. Perhaps I just fancy something novel. Something slightly different for a change.

  ◆◆◆

  When I pulled up behind Sophia’s car, she got out and pointed towards the problem tyre. It was pretty low, but not completely flat, and there was no sign of a blow-out or any obvious damage.

  “Thanks for helping, Lee. I really appreciate it,” she said.

  “Anything for you, Soph. Do you have a spare tyre?” I asked.

  “No idea. Where would it be?” Women!

  “Probably in the boot.”

  Together we walked around to the back of the vehicle, Sophia opened the boot and we peered inside. She stood very close to me and I couldn’t help noticing that she smelled great. Had she recently applied perfume? Surely that’s an unusual thing to do while you’re waiting for a wheel change.

  “There it is. Looks in good condition to me.” I lifted it out, found the jack and some tools underneath it, and got to work.

  It didn’t take long to jack up the car, take off the old wheel and replace it with the spare. I did my best to appear proficient and manly, while Sophia held her phone torch so I could see what I was doing.

  When I’d finished the job and tidied away the flat tyre and all the tools, Sophia said, “Lee, I’m so grateful. Is there any way I can thank you?” The coquettish twinkle in her eye was something to behold.

  “Well, I can probably come up with a few ways,” I mumbled.

  She looked around to make sure that we couldn’t be seen and there were no cars coming, then moved closer to me, put her arms around my neck, pressed her body against mine and kissed me. Not the soft kiss on the lips like on my birthday. This was a proper kiss. An open-mouthed, full-on snog which went on for minutes. And I reciprocated. My lips were getting heavily involved. My hands wanted to join in the fun too, but they were filthy from changing the wheel, so my arms just hung limply by my sides while she squeezed me tight.

  Eventually, it was Sophia who pulled away. Breathlessly she said, “Why don’t you have a long, hard think about how I can express my gratitude. Try to come up with a few ideas and tell me tomorrow.”

  ◆◆◆

  Tamsin walks down the stairs looking absolutely stunning. Her hair is up, showing off her graceful neck to full effect. She’s wearing a little black dress – which conceals only the top few inches of her long shapely bare legs – and high heels – which make her taller than all but a few men. The package is completed with some classy jewellery: diamond earrings hang from her lobes and a matching necklace draws the eye to her accentuated cleavage.

  Wow! I’m trying not to salivate. She looks so hot. It’s another reminder of just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful wife. I sigh contentedly until I realise that my lover and my wife are about to come face to face at the office Christmas party. This could be a disaster.

  ◆◆◆

  I consider myself to be an affectionate guy. I like to manifest my feelings for Tamsin physically; by holding her hand and cuddling her as much as she’ll allow. For me, when we’re intimate, we’re not simply having sex, we’re making love. I like the lights on, so I can make eye contact whenever possible. Gazing into my wife’s eyes during the throes of passion can provide a deep connection between us; but Tamsin prefers the lights off, and even when they’re on, she usually has her eyes tightly shut. Perhaps she’s concentrating on the pleasure that she’s experiencing, or possibly she’s pretending it’s not me that she’s with. Maybe her way to attain optimum enjoyment is to fantasise that she’s making love with someone else. I simply don’t know.

  With Sophia, it’s just sex. Definitely hot sex, but I’m not expressing my feelings for her, I’m simply enjoying the mutual pleasure. I’m certainly not in love with Sophia; not the deep, overwhelming love I have for Tamsin.

  ◆◆◆

  I spent a restless night, tossing and turning, and considering different ways that Sophia could thank me. Suffice it to say, they were all very, very rude and, by the morning, I was lying in bed feeling particularly horny. I reached out to Tamsin and tentatively put my hand on her thigh.

  “We’ve got an early morning staff meeting today.” She yawned, stretched, leapt out of bed and began to get dressed.

  ◆◆◆

  We arrive at the party fashionably late. Most people are there already.

  Heads turn as Tamsin enters the room. There’s no doubt that she looks stunning when she’s dressed up in her finery. She exudes class and style, and her cleavage looks amazing in that outfit. We find chairs and sit down. How can she not realise that every red-blooded male in the room is slyly watching as she crosses those long legs?

  ◆◆◆

  It doesn’t seem fair that all attractive women have the power to tantalise men merely by casually crossing and uncrossing their legs, or by surreptitiously leaning forward, just a little more than is absolutely necessary, to provide a fleeting glimpse down their top. Do they realise the effect that they’re having? They certainly hide it well if they do. In this situation, the gentlemanly thing to do would be to avert the eyes, but it’s not that easy, especially if your wife is as sexy is mine.

  Tamsin is the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, but also my best friend. This is a problem. How can you treat someone you respect – the mother of your children, the ironer of your shirts – as a sex object? I’d love to treat her like a whore; to make sexual demands: “Here’s some money. Now, these are the depraved things I want you to do to me, bitch. Sorry! I don’t know what got into me then. What I actually meant was ... darling, it would be really nice if you could …” It’s never going to happen. I respect Tamsin too much to even ask.

  ◆◆◆

  “Did you come up with some ideas?”

  Sophia approached my desk early the next day, a spring in her step and a twinkle in her eye.

  “You’re funny,” I replied.

  “No. I’m serious. I really want to thank you properly.”

  “It was no problem, Soph. I’m always happy to help. Buy me a nice bottle of wine if you like.”

  “I was hoping you’d prefer something a bit more personal.” She catches and holds my eye.

  “What did you have in mind?” I enquired.

  It felt like we were dancing around the subject, but neither of us was brave enough to verbalise what we both apparently wanted.

  Then, out of the blue, Sophia took a deep breath, started to blush and blurted out, “You can shag me if you want!”

&nb
sp; She looked away, obviously deeply embarrassed.

  I didn’t know what to say.

  ◆◆◆

  The early part of the evening is spent mingling, drinking and shouting to be heard above the noise of the disco. Nobody is dancing yet, but that hasn’t stopped the DJ from blaring his music at full volume and thereby stifling conversation.

  Sophia’s husband, Joe, chose not to come after she told him that most attendees weren’t bringing their partners, so at least that’s one less complication.

  I’ve spotted Sophia. She’s at the bar, surrounded by a group of five young men who are currently at the strutting-around-showing-off-their-plumage phase of their seduction technique. I expect the field will gradually get whittled down during the dance-off round of the competition, and will culminate with the last two standing locking antlers for a while before she gives them both the brush off.

  Sophia keeps glancing across the room at me and smiling seductively. She’s not being too subtle about it either. I hope Tamsin hasn’t noticed.

  There’s definitely something exciting and terrifying about being in the same room as your wife and your lover, and I can’t say I’m enjoying the experience.

  ◆◆◆

  What’s the correct response when a woman you really fancy offers to have sex with you?

  “Hell, yeah!” if you’re both single.

  “Do you think we can get away with it without your husband finding out?” if you’re single, but she’s not.

  “Do you think we can get away with it without my wife finding out?” if she’s single, but you’re not.

  But what if you’re both married? “Absolutely not! We’re both in relationships. That would be completely wrong!” or “Yeah! Let’s go for it. But we need a really good plan to avoid getting caught in the act.”

  I can imagine what it could be like if we were caught:

  Sophia and I are in flagrante delicto in her bedroom when Tamsin bursts in. Her face passes through a range of distinct emotions: shock, disgust, anger, grief. As the tears begin to flow down her face, my children walk into the room looking distraught and ashamed of their once much-loved father. My mum and Greg enter from the en-suite bathroom and start tutting and shaking their heads, appalled. I see my old primary school teacher peering in the window, looking so disappointed in me. My old pet dog is there, tail motionless, she can’t even look at me. With a sigh of infinite weariness, Tamsin gets a huge gun out of her handbag and shoots off my wedding tackle, with three precisely aimed shots. I writhe on the bed in agony, blood everywhere, as they all traipse out of the room without a backward glance, even Sophia.

  Studying my shoes, I replied, “I’d really enjoy that, Soph, but I just can’t be unfaithful to Tamsin. It wouldn’t be right.”

  I saw tears well up in Sophia’s eyes and she turned and walked disconsolately away.

  She didn’t talk to me again for two whole weeks.

  ◆◆◆

  I’m starting to relax. This is okay. Tamsin is on one side of the room, Sophia on the other. Tamsin doesn’t even know who Dave is, and Sophia’s husband isn’t present. My complicated love life is under control.

  Tamsin leans in closer and shouts into my ear.

  “Can I borrow your phone? I want to get Charlie to check I turned the iron off.”

  “Sure.” I hand it to her. “Where’s yours?”

  “Can you see any pockets in this dress?” She gives me a twirl. It’s clear that a few drinks have loosened her up already.

  “Good point. Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” I ask.

  She smiles and kisses me on the lips. “Only about a million times.”

  Behind her, I can see Sophia staring daggers at the two of us. She gulps down half a glass of white wine and picks up another from the bar.

  ◆◆◆

  Women rarely find me attractive these days. I don’t remember anyone fancying me since I hit thirty. In my youth, on a night out, when I was feeling particularly handsome and well dressed, I’d look around to see who was checking me out. I’d quickly glance behind me to see who was admiring my butt. I never caught anyone. But then, along came Sophia. She made it perfectly clear, not only did she think I was attractive, she actually lusted after me. It’s a pleasant experience; very flattering. Perhaps I’m not over the hill after all.

  ◆◆◆

  I was weak.

  After fourteen days of feeling virtuous for rejecting Sophia’s offer, I was back in her office.

  “I’m so sorry, Soph,” I began. “I really hate this. I miss you so much. Please, can we go back to how it was before?”

  She looked up at me dejectedly. “I don’t think I can, Lee. Since we kissed, I can’t get you out of my head. Being just friends isn’t enough for me any longer. I want more.”

  I couldn’t come up with an appropriate reply and, after an uncomfortable silence, she continued.

  “You’re the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last one I think about before I go to sleep at night,” she said. “Please let me show you how much you mean to me. I truly believe we could make each other happy.”

  She paused and looked at me for a long time before saying, “I want us to have an affair.”

  ◆◆◆

  I’ve just managed to get Sophia on her own in order to apologise for kissing Tamsin in front of her. It must be hard enough for her to see me with my wife, without me rubbing her nose in it. She’s quick to calm down, but is now being much too flirty for a public place. She keeps resting her hand on my arm and standing really close to me, to make herself heard over the din of the disco. Surely Tamsin must be suspicious of the smouldering looks Sophia keeps firing in my direction. How many drinks has she had?

  I glance around in time to see Tamsin coming towards us. Something’s up.

  “Why have you changed the passcode on your phone? It always used to be my birthday,” she says, ignoring my companion.

  “Hi, darling. Have you met Sophia?” I sound calm, but inside I’m panicking.

  They shake hands loosely and look each other up and down, the way women do when they’re trying to decide which of them is the prettiest.

  “Nice to meet you,” they say at the same time, smiling insincere smiles which suggest that they both consider themselves victorious.

  In my head Sophia is thinking: “She may be skinnier than me, but she’s so old!” while Tamsin is thinking: “She’s quite pretty, I guess, but she could lose a few pounds.”

  “I changed it!” I blurt out.

  They both turn to face me, bemused by my non sequitur.

  “My passcode. I changed it after Dave got hold of my phone the other day. It seemed sensible to make it more secure.”

  “Oh, yeah. That reminds me. I need to speak to him.” Tamsin looks around the room. “Which one’s Dave?”

  This is it!

  ◆◆◆

  I’d never been unfaithful to my wife. I wasn’t that guy. The guy who respects his wife so little that he cheats on her. When I made my marriage vows, I meant them sincerely. I genuinely believed that I would forsake all others. I’d obviously contemplated having sex with somebody else; show me a man who hasn’t. But it was merely random thoughts which popped into my head before I promptly dismissed them. My relationship with Tamsin meant everything to me. It still does. We both trust each other to be honest, loving and faithful, as long as we both shall live. Unfortunately, in Tamsin’s case, her trust is misplaced.

  ◆◆◆

  “You do realise what that would mean?” I said. “If we had an affair, we’d be risking everything. If anyone ever found out, it would almost certainly destroy both of our marriages. We’d probably end up suffering through acrimonious divorces. We could lose our homes, our kids, our family and friends. We’d both take a big financial hit. Do you really think it would be worth the risk?”

  “No one will ever find out,” Sophia replied, pleadingly. “We’ll be careful. We won’t take any r
isks. We’ll plan a foolproof strategy; so secure that we’ll never be caught. Please, Lee. At least think about it for a few days before you make up your mind.”

  ◆◆◆

  Watching from the opposite side of the room, I see Tamsin weaving her way through a knot of ladies gyrating around their handbags on the tiny dance floor. I see her walk up to Dave and shake his hand. That’s promising. They start to converse. Her back stiffens at one point, but it’s hard to read their body language from this distance. Tamsin gestures over her shoulder, pointing her thumb in my direction, and Dave says something in response and shakes his head, looking serious.

  Their conversation seems to go on forever. I wish I could lip-read, but I haven’t got a clue what they’re saying to each other.

  Eventually, they finish talking and Tamsin makes her way back to me.

  “What did Dave say?” I enquire, as casually as possible.

  “I’ll tell you later.” I’m unable to interpret Tamsin’s expression as she takes some money out of my wallet and heads back to the bar.

  The rest of the night could go either way. Either I’m busted – she’s seen through my charade and when we get home my happy life, as I’ve known it up to now, will come to an abrupt and messy end – or she’s believed my feeble explanation, is still madly in love with me and, who knows, I might even get lucky later.

  ◆◆◆

  I wouldn’t say that Tamsin never initiates sex, but it’s highly infrequent and she has to have several strong drinks first. On those rare occasions, when the stars align, her legs are recently shaved, she’s wearing her finest underwear, she’s having a good-hair day, she’s done all the ironing, I’ve loaded the dishwasher and put the bins out, work is going well, she’s at the right time of her cycle, the kids are asleep, several men have flirted with her, and she’s had the optimum amount of alcohol then maybe, just maybe, she might initiate sex. Obviously, I play my part too: I bite my tongue; knowing the smallest inappropriate comment might have a disastrous effect.