My Husband Had This Idea

My husband asked me once if I ever thought about other men. I laughed.Of course.Just that morning I'd let my eyes linger on that image of a certain celebrity caught paddle boarding in the nude.

"That's not quite what I meant," Timothy said.

I listened as he talked and listened to myself.

Fear. Fear that he wanted to justify sleeping with other women.

Dread. That our sex life wasn't good enough for him.

Curiosity.What if he truly meant this?

That was eight months ago. And while it took me a few months to realize that he was genuinely turned on it. By me. He wanted me to explore my sexuality and desire, and that was something, over the following months, I knew I needed to do. Yet, I loved Timothy. I did not want to put our relationship at risk.

There was a lot of turning things over in my head. Thinking of the places each decision could lead us to.

But I got there.

And then I got here--uploading my profile picture to a dating website.

I'd never done this before. We had gotten married just as smartphones became a thing, before swiping right was a verb.

When there's this pressure to choose the right photo, that someone will judge my desirability based on a moment, I find that I'm so harsh on myself. A crooked smile in one. Hips at an unflattering angle in another. I didn't want to use anything too old, when I still had youthful skin. There are a few wrinkles now.

Overpromise. Sell myself short. I did not want to misrepresent myself either way.

I think I look good for thirty nine. I'm not twenty nine anymore and that's okay.

I went with the one from Timothy's cousin's wedding in April. Laughing at something off-camera. Genuine and, I think, flattering.

Choosing my status was complicated, but surprisingly, there were a lot of options. I wasn't having an affair. I wasn't unhappy. I wasn't separated. I was in an open relationship.

Felt weird to select that one because technically, our marriage wasn't open. Not fully.

A month ago, I had decided to try this. At my pace. At my leisure. I got back into running just in case someone else saw my body, and because I regretted stopping last year. I made no promises to Timothy besides one. I'd tell him if it happened. No secrets. He told me, that's all he asked.

"I just want to know that you're happy."

I was happy.

But as a mom, a colleague, a chauffeur, a scheduler, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a member of society and a neighborhood with standards for their gardens, and a million other things, I knew what he meant.

"I want to know that you're alive."

Breathing.

Wanting.

Needing.

---

I didn't turn on notifications.

The last thing I needed was our kids, or worse, friends or family glancing at my phone and seeing an alert from this app. Their first thought would be that I was betraying Timothy.

And so, it wasn't until later that evening as we lay in bed, and Timothy opened his book, that I opened the app. I choked on my spit as the shock hit me.

"Are you okay?"

I coughed and nodded. When I could breathe again I said, "Yeah, just swallowed weird."

Dozens of matches. Messages from men with handsome profile pictures and elevator pitches.

Some of it was flattering. Some of it was not.

I was out of my element. Quiet, busy mom. Not someone sorting through seventy three men, and yet, my heart pumped quicker, my palms were sweating, and I found myself blushing through messages.

Three caught my eye because they all used the same word--respect.

Of the three, I chose Trent. The best looking one. I'd like to say it was his thoughtfulness, the way he made me laugh, how he'd constructed his sentences. And those things mattered because I wouldn't sleep with a moron. But I'm not going to lie to myself--I'd been doing enough of that for years. He was attractive. Really attractive. I wasn't going to take a step down from Timothy. Why? Just to prove a point about my righteousness?

Dana -- I'll be honest, I almost didn't message you. That smile? You're out of my league. I'm newly single after a long relationship and mostly just looking for someone smart and fun to remind me what life can feel like. I've been on here three weeks and I think I've learned more about myself than ten years of therapy. I read everything you shared about you unique situation, and I want you to know that whatever this could be, I have zero interest in complicating your life. I applaud you for putting yourself out there like this. You deserve the highest respect and you have it. Hope you see this,

Trent

I replied.

Trent, You have kind eyes. I look forward to hearing your horror stories from this app. I have a feeling we could compare notes. I'll be honest, I wasn't sure I'd actually message anyone. I almost talked myself out of the whole thing twice before I hit save on my profile. I am, sadly, not surprised about how many dick pics I've gotten. Oy vey. But your message was different. So. Here I am. --Dana

And then I replied to the other two.

Just in case.

---

Trent and I messaged back and forth for a few days before I was reasonably sure he was real. We sent each other pics with a handwritten note, just to give the warm and fuzzies.

Mine was post-run. Mismatched sports bra and shorts in the mirror. Cheeks red, forehead damp, holding my note so he could see:This outfit is my running joke.

His was at the air compressor at a convenience store. He was kneeling by his flat tire in his chinos, polo tucked in, nice shoes. In one hand, he held the air hose, and in the other a napkin with his message:That picture really pumped me up.

Your joke makes no sense. Mine at least worked.

Can I blame you? Brain no have enough oxygen after me see you in sports bra.

OMFG!

And then--So. Are we ever actually going to meet, or are we just going to exchange decreasingly impressive puns forever?

Dinner, Friday?

Yes.

---

I peeked at Timothy. He had been reading Master and Commander for over a month and he was on the final page. I couldn't interrupt then. But I was about to burst. I needed to get it out. I knew how it was at the end of a book so I waited. As he closed it, I wasted no time.

"How was it?"

"Movie was better. I don't think I'll read the second one."

"No?"

He shook his head. I kept looking at him.

"Yes?" he said.

"Can you put the kids to bed Friday?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Are you going out with Rachel again?" Rachel was an old friend and we tried to meet up once a month.

I shook my head.

"I have a date."

Timothy's eyes went wide. His chin dropped. I reached for his hand and it was clammy. He wasn't the only one whose body was reacting. My stomach was in knots at having to tell him.

"I am not saying anything will happen. In fact, it probably won't. But I found a guy."

Timothy was quiet.

"Is that okay?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yea-yeah. I am sure."

"Are you happy? I'm at least trying it out?"

He nodded.

I shifted closer. He turned to me. I slipped my hands into his shorts. He leaned in and he kissed me.

---

I dropped the kids off at school Friday morning and then went for a run. It was my off day and I try to stick to those so I can recover, but I was wound too tightly.

Timothy texted me from work nearly every hour. I could tell he was being overtly attentive. I didn't mind.

After a small salad, I turned on the shower. I shaved and trimmed and maybe went a little overboard, using a straight edge to make sure my pubic hair was an even landing strip, just in case. Timothy never cared if it wobbled, but that day, I did.

I lathered my rosewater body wash and scrubbed. Breathing in deep, the smell calmed me. I lucked out that my favorite soap was Timothy's favorite scent.

I toweled off and went to the bed where my outfits were laid out. Yeah, I said "outfits", plural. If anyone had seen the pile I started with: sweaters and jackets and jeans and skirts and tanks and... At least I narrowed the options down to dresses.

Two dresses.

A black one that totally worked for me. It could be worn to work or a date. No one would ask questions at either.

The green one though... the green one had no back, until just above the hips. It felt a bit more sexy, a bit more committed.

I reached for the black one first. Safe. Appropriate. And then I thought--appropriate for what, exactly? A board meeting? I tossed it aside.

I grabbed the green one.

A regular bra wouldn't work but I had stopped at a pharmacy and bought the stick-on cups.

The instructions had four pictures all in shades of grey. I couldn't tell what went where, so I just held the cups in my hands and figured it out. I got one to stay. The other fought me. After the third attempt it wrinkled. Wrinkled real bad.

I checked the time. I had to decide right then.

I could use it and Trent would think one of my nipples was eerily similar to the San Andreas fault, or I could skip the bra completely. Didn't have time to stop for another pair. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at myself in the mirror--one cup on, one cup off, green dress pooled in my lap--and started laughing.

"Well," I said, "what the hell. As they say, 'Free the Nipple.'"

With that, I removed the good cup.

I slipped on a pair of lacy black panties.

Lifted the dress over my head and let the satin material flow down my body.

This is going to sound hyperbolic but at that moment as it slipped over me, I felt like a goddess being born. The dress kissed my body all the way down.

I looked in the mirror just as I heard the kids drop their backpacks and Timothy's voice reminding them to wash their hands. Yeah, I could have used some support, but my breasts looked alright.

"Wow," Timothy said. He had moved fast, up those stairs faster than usual.

"It's good?"

"Definitely."

"I need to leave in a few," I said.

"Are you wearing a bra?"

I shook my head. He groaned.

"You are so sexy."

I kissed his cheek.

"You'll be safe, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "It's a nice place."

The day before, I had texted him the restaurant website. Fine dining. 4.9 stars.

I knew that's not what he meant by being safe.

"Dana," he said.

"Yes. I promise."

I could have explained everything I worked out with Trent. Monogamous and then single. No partners since. Tested a week ago. I saw results. I found his socials. Knew he was a respected person in his field. I had my phone's GPS active so I could be tracked by family.

But I didn't get time.

"Mommy, why do you look so pretty?"

I smiled, suddenly sad as the littlest one came in.

I wanted to ask for a moment for Daddy and Mommy, and make Timothy promise me that he would still love me. Still treasure me. Still protect me.

Instead, I trusted him.

"I'm going out to dinner with a friend, dearest," I said, and kissed her on the top of her head.

"You look so fancy. Is he the President?"

I laughed.

Timothy took my hand and we went downstairs. His pulse was quick and hot in his tight grasp. I picked up my clutch and slipped my phone inside, then kissed Timothy.

It was a long kiss. A kiss we both needed.

Then I was in the car, merging onto the highway. I turned up the radio and sang along because it was the only way to fend off my nerves.

It barely worked.

---

I parked in a garage off Cherry Street. It cost more than some others I passed, but it had good lighting and a clean cut attendant. The elevator told me I had parked on the Freedom Floor, and passed through the Arts and Commerce Floors on my way down.

The Center City street was full of activity in a way that my suburban street was not. Ever.

I looked at my phone's GPS and the little arrow that was me and found the place was closer to my car than I had expected. I let out a breath. Then another when I found the right door. Embarrassingly I had tried opening one that had no handle and was clearly labeled as a fire exit.

Yeah, I'm real cool.

I took a deep breath and stepped inside and there he was. Tall, dressed smartly, and wearing a smile of relief.

"Dana," he said. "You look amazing." I smiled. "Can I hug you?"

I nodded.

He wrapped me in his arms, and I placed my head against his chest. I heard his heartbeat, felt his warmth bleed through his neatly pressed shirt. He smelled good, like cedar and something sweet. When he pulled back, I wanted to move in.

Good sign.

The hostess led us to our table. I sat and as he slid the chair in, I counted seven tables in the entire restaurant. I'm not the savviest with business stuff but even I knew that fewer tables meant the meal would be expensive. Very expensive.

A waitress with a nice smile introduced herself. There was no menu. The chef would be choosing our courses. Could she recommend a bottle?

I told Trent he could pick. She poured water and went to fetch our wine.

"Wow," I said. "You didn't have to go all out like this. Usually Friday night is McDonald's for the kids, and my husban-"

I stopped.

"It's okay," Trent said.

I felt my lips curl into a slight smile. Nodded.

"My husband and I usually get Chinese. It's right next to McDonald's. Well, my life is truly boring."

I have to give him credit. I was a bad date.

Awkward and spiraling.

I couldn't do this. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't this sort of woman.

Trent leaned in, resting a hand on the table, palm up. He gestured to it and I slipped my hand into his.

A moment passed.

"I haven't dated since...well, it's been a while. I'm just as nervous," he said. "Let's just own that and have fun."

"You're sweet," I said. "Nurturing. Very reassuring. I didn't expect that."

"Didn't expect that from a guy you met on the internet who wants to have sex with another man's wife?"

Of course the waitress returned just then, out of thin air, and filled our glasses. Both of us just eyed one another, wondering how much she had heard. She left.

"Uh, yeah, that," I said, as we both laughed.

Two hours passed like twenty minutes. The wine helped. So did he. He felt...easy to be with.

When he slid his credit card to the waitress, I considered checking my phone. Maybe let Timothy know I was still at dinner.

I didn't.

Trent stood and helped me up. We walked to the exit, my arm in his, as we stepped into the city evening.

He had asked where I parked, and he knew the place. Lawyers used it mostly.

When we reached the garage, we didn't stop. We just walked slower. My heart started racing.

I wanted him to ask me. I wanted to go home. My stomach was tightening into a jumble of knots.

I questioned whether I even knew how to have sex. Felt like I forgot.

Should I shake his hand and say goodnight?

He stopped walking. He let go of my arm. I turned to him as he opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke.

"I really like you, Dana. I want to ask you to come back to my place but I want you to know, I'll still consider this a beautiful night, even if you give me one last hug and go home to your family tonight. Truly."

I stood there for what felt like an hour as thoughts steamrolled by. Some moved so fast, I didn't get to even hear them. Some were clear. Some were fear. Fear that Timothy didn't mean what he said. Some told me to grab life by the balls. It wasn't just an angel and a demon on each shoulder, it seemed more like a few hundred of drunk guys just yelling things that came to their mind.

And then I heard a quieter voice.

A calmer voice.

What do I want?

My voice.

"Where is your place?"

---

His place was just a few blocks away. He lived in a high rise. A doorman. An elevator with mirrors.

When he closed the door behind us, I was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city spread out below. Then across the river, in distance I could see a building that I saw every morning from our front yard. I wasn't that far away from home.

I heard him cross the room. Felt him before he touched me. Rested his hand on my hip. Gentle and patient.

"This is a very nice dress," he said quietly.

I turned my head to look up at him. He wasn't looking at the dress.

His eyes were on mine and I watched his pupils expand in the soft light. My chest tightened in response.

And then my lips were on his, or his were on mine. Don't know which. Don't care. Then his hands were on my hips, not roughly but firmly, fixing me against him so I could feel exactly what I was doing to him.

He was doing something to me too. I felt myself soak through my panties. My nipples tightened against my silky dress.

His hands found my zipper before I could offer it up to him. The dress went slack, no longer hugging my hips. I slid one strap from my shoulder, then the other, making sure he was paying attention before I let go completely.

He was.

When my top fluttered down and my breasts were exposed, I felt his cock twitch, straining against his clothes, against my belly.

I shimmied out of the dress, letting it pool at my feet.

He stepped back.

Just slightly. Just enough to look at me.

I fought the instinct to cover my body, hide my stretch marks, stand so things looked more flattering.

He didn't seem to be so critical.

"Dana." Just my name. The way he said it made the word feel like a complete paragraph and all of it was adoration. "God, look at you."

And I melted.

He reached out. Touching my face, he traced my jaw with his thumb like he was drawing me. I closed my eyes and let myself feel.

Then he kissed me again, slower and more deliberate. He tasted different than Timothy. Warmer. The only way I can describe it is a memory--stepping into a lake midsummer, and the water wasn't quite what I was expecting.

It made every nerve ending in my body wake up and pay attention.

He led me by the hand to his bedroom. Then he knelt in front of me. He started above my knee--kissing, moving up slowly only to kiss me again, then he was between my thighs. I dropped my hands to his shoulders, brushing his back with my fingertips. He hooked his fingers into my panties. His eyes locked on to the spot where they peeled away from my wet body.

The sound they made should have embarrassed me.

It didn't.

He kissed me there softly. Then again.

"I love how you taste," he said, with another slow kiss.

"Can you do that all night?"

I felt him laugh against my skin. He stopped.

"Are you sure that's all you want me to do?"

He brushed his tongue along my clit, circling before gently sucked some of me into his mouth. I ran my fingers through his hair. Pressed into him.

I looked down at him. He was broader in the shoulders than Timothy.

Shook my head.

Closed my eyes.

Different.

Just different.

He slipped a finger into me and I shivered, biting my lip at the welcome intrusion.

"More," I said.

I felt a second finger. It felt good but...

I nudged his head away and he stood up.

"Are you okay?" he said, searching my face.

"I want something else."

Naked, I fumbled with his belt. The buckle clattering as I undid it. Then prying his button apart, dragging his zipper down, I gripped his boxers and yanked it all down.

The time for slow teasing was not now.

His cock sprang free. For the first time, I understood what all the fuss was about.

I was done thinking.

Done entirely.

I just dropped to my knees.

Bowing before him, I wrapped both hands around his cock. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it behind him. My eyes moved up his body and I let it slip. "It's unfair how beautiful you are."

Then I took him in my mouth. I discovered the shape of him with my lips, the weight and taste of him on my tongue. And by watching his face, I learned what he liked.

Running my tongue along his length. Tasting the salt on his skin.

Sucking on his tip only while stroking slowly and deeply.