I’m not sure what is going on in my head. Perhaps it has been this flu, a slight temperature causing an imbalance in my normal thought processes. Or perhaps it is watching the entire series of BBC’s “Mistresses” from my sickbed. I don’t know. All I know, is that I am waiting for my husband to return from a brief business trip and I am trying to decide whether to fuck him sans-condom in two hours time. Am I going mad?
I’ve never wanted children and even now I don’t think I do. But something is niggling away inside. Is it just boredom? Curiosity? I suppose at the same time I just have this feeling that I probably can’t get pregnant. Not that I’ve ever tried. There have been some reckless near misses with some of my lovers. It would spell an end to my current life, cut short all the plans I have been forging – going back to studying, starting up a business…
It would also mean a change to my marriage, making it a more permanent thing I suppose. And of course, it would put an end to my double life as a serial adulterer, at least for a little while. I am wracked by fear, repulsion and grief for the life I would lose if I did get pregnant. My mood on this subject swings from one extreme to the other. It is a decision that cannot be reversed once made.
It must be the fever.
I’ve just spent the weekend with the gardener and his former girlfriend (the one I set him up with all those years ago, but now married to someone else)…
We stayed in a remote house in the Tuscan countryside, eating outside, watching the sun set over the hills and talking late into the night, drinking too much and snatching kisses and touches when she went indoors, or we were alone in the kitchen. It was not going to be possible to sleep together, the walls were too thin. Waking up hung over on Sunday, we spent the day lounging around,the three of us lying on the sofa together, snoozing and watching crap TV. She went to her bedroom to lie down, leaving us lying next to one another. He gently traced my curves with his fingers, from neck to thighs. Again, something thawed inside.
We drove back to the city in the evening and said goodbye. I could see he wanted to spend the night with me, my last evening before the husband joins me again. But she hijacked my evening, inviting herself for dinner. I wondered as we talked about marriage and relationships, how much she had picked up on the looks and touches of the previous night. I also wondered whether she too had been kissed and touched when I wasn’t looking. Two married women, a gardener and unsaid secrets. A most surreal weekend.
Filed under General, lovers
Strangely, the last few months have been a libidinal void. I’m not sure what happened. I suppose I was busy working, the husband was around all the time, geographically distanced from all my lovers and no time to meet new ones. Perhaps my London lover odyssey exhausted me. Perhaps I just needed to recharge. But I’ve been searching for that elusive tingle, that excitement, that feeling of standing on the edge. And so, returning to the scene of many crimes, I find myself in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. A city I left over a year ago, still tingling and raw from my first threesome with the American and Frenchman. A city full of memories – the gardener, the Italian, Eton boy and other late night fumblings.
Last night I saw the gardener again and I felt something begin to thaw behind my eyes. It was a dinner, another friend was there, so no chance to be alone. Looking at his tanned skin and lean muscles I could sense a distant, yet familiar sensation, a sort of light-heartedness. We chatted and laughed over wonderful food, hands brushing occasionally as we both reached for our glasses, knees touching under the table. Then, walking home again, we lagged a few paces behind my friend and I felt his hand reach for mine. It sent a little jolt through me. Perhaps it is the shock I need to wake me from my numbness, to pull me out of this void. I want to feel alive again.