Have you ever been so bored with your life that you invite trouble into it?  

Towards the end of my marriage when I knew things were over I found myself making choices that probably weren’t great for me.  But because I’d already mentally given up, I was sucked into that exhilarating feeling of freedom. Of choices, of possibility. It was intoxicating and I started to seek it out. 

I ended up online looking for places where I could talk to people about sex, or fantasies, where people were more open about desire. Naturally, places like that end up being fairly gross with some very questionable people but I feel like as it quite often happens, I end up attracting the right sort of people to me. And that’s how it happened.  Where I met him.

This man was pure sex. And sex appeal.  He had plenty of interesting things to talk about, he was really engaging and charming. Funny.  But the sexiest thing about him was how he saw me. He paid attention and nothing turns me on more.  He was also just so clear about his intentions towards me.  I lean towards needing reassurance but it was never needed with him. He told me all the time what he thought about me, what he wanted to do together. He was so open about sex that it had me exploring different sexual interests with him and he was so accepting of me as a person. All of me.

I’d say things like I had a dream in which I was having sex with a man. And when I thought about the dream afterward I’d think about the dream as me, as a woman, feeling the pleasure of having sex. Sometimes, I’d think about the dream but would pull away and watch as though out of my body and it was sexy to watch this couple.  And then, sometimes I was the man.  And at this time I wasn’t that comfortable with my own sexuality, with my own pleasure, with watching, with the idea of playing with sexual norms. But his acceptance of it, the way he found it sexy that I was exploring this made me accept it too. 

He was also just really honest with me. It wasn’t a natural thing for him to open up and answer my endless questions about things he would have never considered or given any thought to normally but he did. For me.  We talked about infidelity, what it felt like when he met someone new, the rush of new person energy.  The way his job made him feel and how meeting women helped ease something in him that was created by his stressful, uncertain job. The way he opened up to me was such an aphrodisiac. I love the closeness it brings, the intimacy of sharing yourself with another person. 

At the time all this was going on, I was working as a retail manager in a busy shop in a new shopping centre. He lived maybe 30 minutes away from me and on his off days he’d message me all the time, even during work. I’d be busy unpacking a big delivery, check my phone and find 11 messages from his describing a fantasy he’d just had about me. Or he’d follow up with more thoughts on something I’d asked him previously. And all of the messaging while at work would get into my brain and I ended up having all of these racing thoughts. 

I’d start to imagine what it would be like if he decided to go further afield to a shopping centre to pick up some things and maybe it would be the shopping centre I worked in. Maybe he’d walk into my shop. Maybe he’d pass me as I went out on my lunch break, maybe we’d be in the same queue line in Boots. Whenever I went out on my breaks at work I’d have this thought in my head. Any one of these people could be him. And I’d feel this almost constant tension, this need for him. 

I also can’t stress enough how much this man was into me. He would tell me all the time how much he thought how my brain worked was incredibly sexy or how he loved seeing me grow in sexual confidence. And he’d follow it up by saying let’s meet. It can be us talking about anything or everything but let it also be me straddling his cock. His sexual energy was in everything he said but not in a creepy way.  It felt like us having sex was just a natural extension of our connection in other ways. 

But I’d always say to him, I don’t know, I don’t if I can meet him.

Because I was still married. Even though I was already preparing my exit strategy, even though I knew in my heart that it was over but I still felt something about my marriage. About loyalty and commitment to my (now) ex. I felt like I was okay at that time about things happening online. Flirting online wasn’t cheating, was it? Completely ignoring that sharing so much with this man about sex, fantasies and desires was so much more than ‘flirting’. But once it got into meeting people face to face that’s when I started to think, how can that ever be justified? So he kept asking and I kept saying no. (I didn’t always say ‘no’ but that’s a story for another time.)

And that’s how this fantasy built. It started off as a dream but when I woke up I added to it, filled it in more.

I’m at a wedding reception and it’s in one of those fancy estate houses, with a really large house and massive beautiful gardens that are well maintained.  I’m in a pretty dress and heels, I’ve come to this wedding on my own and I’m talking to a group of people I know reasonably well but aren’t particularly close with. We’re in the gardens and it’s a gorgeous summer day with the sun out. I remember the feel of the fabric of my dress, that I feel good in this dress, I like the shape of it, the colour of it.

I am laughing and smiling with the group I’m with and over the shoulder of the person I’m talking to, I see him. I’m with the bride’s group of friends, but I can see that he’s clustered with a group of friends that know the groom, all wearing suits, ties having been abandoned, their shirts unbuttoned and more relaxed. But he’s not paying attention to the people he’s with, he’s looking at me. Only me. And with this intensity in his gaze. 

I stop laughing abruptly when I see him from the shock of it. How can he be here? But I quickly go back to the conversation I’m having, afraid that someone else will notice and ask how I know this man who keeps staring at me, why he has such an effect on me.

I do my best to engage in conversation but I turn slightly so I can keep him in my sights, even now as my heartbeat is racing I don’t want to turn away from him. When he starts moving towards me with purpose in his steps, I catch his eye and sort of shake my head like don’t do this. And I hope he can see the panic in my eyes. 

But he’s still walking towards me, so I make my excuses to my friends and say I need another drink and move away. And I can see him sometimes as I move from place to place. He stops when others call his name but he’s still making his way towards me. So I decide to leave. I go into the fancy building and make like I’ve gone out the front door but I actually circle back round and come back in from a side door. And I race up one of the sets of stairs to this room that’s been turned into a coat room with racks along one side of the room and piles of coats on the bed, a few suitcases in the corner from wedding guests. And I quickly find my coat and I turn to the door to leave but he’s standing just inside the room. 

And he just says my name really quietly. Just my name. 

And that’s when I launch into my rambling, all the words are coming out of me and I’m saying we can’t do this, I’m married and he’s married and it would be wrong and it’s our friend’s wedding anyway and that should be the focus which is why I should just leave, I have everything to just go right now anyway and as I’m talking he’s been moving more towards the centre of the room, closer to me. And I try to just dart past him and through the open door but he reaches out and he touches my arm very lightly. 

And as soon as he touches me my words stop and I just stand there looking at his hand on my arm and I feel like until that moment I haven’t really looked at him, not properly. His height makes me tremble but so does he in his shirt, looking like he looked really put together once but now his hair falls over his beautiful blue eyes and he’s rolled his sleeves up with bare forearms and I look up and he’s even closer than I imagined, the heat of him. That fucking intense look of his. His hand on me is light but I feel like I can’t move anyway. He’s pinned me with that look. 

And I start to say something else halfheartedly and he says something like shhh and at once he’s pulling me closer to him and also does something with the door like he’s kicked it shut with his leg. And he spins us both and I’m pressed against the door and he’s now got both my wrists held together in his hand and they’re over my head and he leans in and everything fades to black.