The Tidal Line

My husband initiated a discussion on adultery last night. Discussion—not lecture—being the key. The night before my two closest female friends visited for hot tub based conversation and mass alcohol consumption. Being drunk, giddy and topless, things ran amuck very quickly. A blond, brunette and redhead—drunk and topless in a hot tub—horny and enjoying a level of comfort that only comes from a fifteen year friendship. I would not say it is every man’s fantasy—most men prefer more action, attention and access to crotch kittens. But as far as opening scenes go, he had a terrific trio to smile and watch.

My husband was not there the whole time—he has self-preservation skills. Blond needed to talk about Rick—in that “he broke my heart and now I must talk smack about him to make him less special to me” sort of way. It was an interesting bit of enlightenment. Some of the things he did with Blond—specifically after the breakup—surprised me initially. Upon reflection, it made perfect sense. Rick is a fellow survivor of Roman Catholic Education—paying penance is an ingrained part of us. Perfect penance involves both pain and repayment of debt--what they did could qualify. Pleasure is as much a trick of the mind as the sensation of the flesh….

We drank far too much, and by “we” I mean Blond & Brunette. I drank merely "too much" and had to keep my eyes open during intercourse with my husband. Lest you think I can’t stand the sight of the man, I can. But there are times when a woman wants to close her eyes and revel in the sensations of the flesh. (Spinning on multiple axes is not a sensation I tend to revel in while my mind is partially pickled.) And after the tantalizing, titillating talk I gave him, he was very interested in gratifying me. He was already aroused after the nipple nuzzling I did in the hot tub—vivid descriptions of what I might do with Blond under his watching eyes sent him skyrocketing. It was hot, sweaty, screamy sex, and when it was done my head was still spinning--sleep was a poor choice. So I left to talk to Brunette and Blond.

I found Brunette first. Her head was also spinning—not surprising when I discovered the empty 350 ml bottle of green stuff. While I had helped her with her consumption efforts, I did not put my liver on the line. There are limits—I try to adhere to them as best I can. Laughter, love, conversation in excellent company are sufficiently intoxicating: typically I stop before I get to a state of head-spinning. Brunette and I sat on my kitchen floor and ate toast and talked. Her place on my sofa gave was sufficient for her to hear at least some of what went on in my room, and we discussed my newfound privileges. Girl on girl gratification was a go. We were a bit surprised by my husband, but… I’m sure his surprise about us was equal. Blond, Brunette and Red are frighteningly heterosexual—playing with each others nipples and talking of nuzzling nether regions is slightly out of character. What can I say: It’s been that sort of year.

After our talk, I went downstairs to check on Blond. Previous events of the evening and a champagne-swilling weekend with Rick already behind us, I was curious about what might happen. My curiosity was fulfilled—confirming some suspicions I had about our friendship and the level of love we have for each other. Blond is Rick’s former live-in—despite my feelings for Rick and her feelings for Rick, she and I remain secure in each other—mutual trust. A trust that was tried by my secret keeping at Rick’s behest, but… she accepts the actions and my apology.

Which is why she and I did what we did in the small hours of Sunday morning. That and the presumption that I had permission to play from my husband. Presumption was proved by his post-coital question last night—“now that we’re sober: how serious were you about Blond?” Said in such a way that a potential for betrayal to be seen in my actions. It was a nervous moment—exhausted from sleep deprivation and recent coital activity, I paused before responding with a deeper snuggle into his arms and thought before replying. I answered the question without confessing what I’d done in the wee hours of the morning.

My answer prompted the revelation of two questions that had been plaguing him all day: “did I miss my chance to see hot girl-on-girl action?” and “What is adultery, anyway?” This made way for a conversation I had been longing to have with him on a topic I feared broaching. For I had been afraid to have an openhearted discussion with my husband since January.

In January, my husband said something to me that caused me to question my entire knowledge of him as well as our marriage. Six hours later, I found myself enjoying an embrace, comfortable in the warmth of trust and mutual affection with Rick. Proof that God has a sense of humor that is ironic at best….

“What is adultery?” he asked. The land of safe is easy to see—the deep sea of sin is also obvious. The tricky part is knowing your way down the beach. I’ve been stumbling for several months now—one would think I could provide an answer. The answer du jour being: it is like the tide—it varies from relationship to relationship, from instance to instance, based on the people involved, the timing, the trusts, the sense of insecurity. Going behind someone’s back is a dangerous place—sometimes the dangerous places need to be traversed.

I told my husband some of what I’d done with Rick—the hugs, the kisses, the entwined embraces. The hugs were of no issue. The kisses were downplayed by me and further reduced to “a kiss now and then” by my husband. The entwined embraces qualified as hugs—so long as everyone keeps clothed. I am not fool enough to think our discussion has been resolved. There are more issues to be revealed and discussed, when the tide is right….