Take me Home

I’m feeling more than slightly bewildered.  I view the events of the past 90 minutes as like walking through a door.  No, opening one.  Regardless of whether or not I stepped through the mere opening of this door meant that a new part of my life had begun and a new part of my personality had been revealed.  It has resulted in my reclassification.  I am now a philanderer.  Or is it adulterer?  Probably the latter. Or a cheat or rat. 

It began with flirtation.  Not on my part but on hers.  My flirtation muscles, if I ever had any, had dwindled and withered over the decades and it took me some time to recognise that this girl or woman....I suppose I should call her a woman...Well, anyway I think it took some time for me to recognise that this girl of only twenty four was flirting with me.  Actually, that may not be the case.  I began this new job on the first day of February and today is May 29^th so I guess it didn’t take me that long to realise.  That makes me realise that I am not only an adulterer and a cheat but am also a cliché.  I’m a married man of fifty two and within the last hour I’ve fucked my twenty four year old secretary.  It was definitely fucking also and not making love.  Janice and I make love.  There’s no wild shagging like in the movies with Janice but I’ve always been wonderfully happy with our lovemaking.  Sorry, I’ve misled you a bit there.  She’s an administrative assistant not a secretary.  She appears to see the title as important although she didn’t mention it when my penis was between her breasts about forty five minutes ago.  Her name is Norda.      

I may have confused you.  I just said that I was always happy with Janice and our lovemaking.  I was.  I am.  ‘How was this happiness evident when your secretary was licking your balls thirty nine minutes ago?’ you ask.  I don’t know is my answer.  Since she left, all of three minutes ago, with a wink and a lick of her lips and the words “I’ll be able to taste you all the way home” I seem to have sobered up after being increasingly intoxicated with her and by her over recent weeks.  Is this the empty nest syndrome?  Could I blame the departure of the children from the family home?  Six years ago there were five of us at home and now they’ve all gone.  The stages in their lives; walking, talking, nursery, changes of school, options choices, exams, graduations and other events marked out my present and future.  Life has seemed a little less structured, purposeful and ultimately colourful lately.  ‘Here comes another grey morning’ is my waking thought...‘What am I to do today?’.  Maybe some small part of my brain was looking for a new reason for my existence.  But no, I can’t explain how that leads to my penis being in the mouth of someone half my age within seven minutes of opening a hotel door to them.  Just as I was moving my head between her buttocks like a child bobbing for apples 23 minutes ago I wondered how on earth it was that the questions I was asking about life generated ‘Sex with someone who isn’t your wife’ as the answer.  Surely it should have been some scuba diving lessons, a bungee jump or buying rollerblades.    

Yes, anyway, her name is Norda.  I know, I’d never heard of that name previously either.  Of course I noticed how beautiful she was on my first day at the company but gave no......little...thought to her that was of a sexual nature.  I think we began with friendly and then flirtatious and then some less than subtle comments about whether I liked her new skirt.  I said I did and she turned and asked “And from behind?”.  I did.  Her behaviour towards me was bemusing.  My collusive behaviour after years of marriage and fidelity was even more so. 

It was only four days ago that she said she’d be in London this evening, meeting a friend.  “I’ll be there too”.  I told her.  “Staying over.  Meetings on Monday and Tuesday”. 

“I know”, she said.  “I arranged it all”.

“We could meet up”, she said.

“Yes”

“I know where to find you”

When I opened the hotel room door earlier this evening she stepped forward and kissed me.  She used a lot more saliva and biting than my previous experience has given me to believe that kissing should involve.  “I’ve been waiting for you” she said.  She took hold of my right hand with her left as she lifted her skirt with her right and brought my finger tips onto and into her knickers.  “Touch me” she commanded.  I did.  She appeared to be disproportionately excited by the touch of a middle aged accountant.  She stepped back and put her hands to the buttons on her blouse.  “Do you want to see them?” she asked as if the moments after her breasts were revealed would be like Mardi Gras or a childhood Christmas and life would never be the same again.  The last bit is very much the case though.  “I knew you’d be beautiful” I said when she’d removed her blouse and bra and stood topless before me.  However, erm.....   

Janice, when clothed, gives no hint of the body that lies beneath.  Although aged fifty two she has the body of a much, much younger woman.  Admittedly her untethered breasts increasingly seem to be beyond her control like errant shopping trolley wheels but she is still in great shape.  Should there ever be reason for there to be a police line-up of women naked from the neck down no one would ever guess that Janice was a mother of three adult children.  Norda, when clothed promised a body of absolute perfection but naked she wasn’t living up to this promise.  It all seemed a little wobbly and sad.  Her breasts, as pleasant as they were, appeared to be focused on the floor rather than the horizon as Janice’s always were.

We quickly stripped, fell to the bed and began to make lo......to have sex.  Frantic sex.  Her pubic hair had been waxed to a central strip.  This took me by surprise a little and the presence of so much visible flesh in an area normally covered by hair made me think of the pre-packed uncooked chickens we often buy from the supermarket.  Her technique for fellatio was rather like a Labrador drinking water from its bowl and involved her twisting my penis with a movement she must have learned from watching waiters in Italian restaurants administering pepper.  It was a little curious and, although I remained tumescent, distracting.  We just didn’t seem to fit together properly.  Janice and I have been sexual partners since we were fifteen.  We know each other (intimately) and what the other person likes (perfectly).  The adrenaline and excitement carried me through the experience this evening and concerns remained at the back of my mind.  It’s strange though to realise that I have damaged my view of myself and risked my marriage for some very average sex.  I feel quite ill with panic.  This door has been opened though.

It cannot be closed.

These things cannot become unknown.