Never Have an Affair (Fiction, But a Warning That Everyone Should Read)

"Phew, we got away with that" was the last text I sent Matt, my work colleague before our lives turned upside down.

By the following evening, I had confessed what had happened and both our lives were in the balance.

I had previously told Matt that my husband had been in the army and was one of the best marksmen in the regiment and had been specially selected for higher purposes.

And I had reminded him just two weeks beforehand about the type of man my husband was. My husband and I had had a brick thrown through the front door window and the perpetrator was known.

My husband's solution?

Go to Brighton, talk to some people, £500 and that perpetrator won't be doing it again to anyone.

So I confessed. My husband didn't believe the cock and bull story about just sitting in a room and talking and he used some of his 'advanced' interrogation methods on me and I confessed everything...

It wasn't just the other night.

It had been going on 6 months, since the business trip.

Every day, secret sex texts.

I saw his heart break in front of my eyes. All his visions of me being a decent person evaporated, never to return. The spark in his eyes petered out and was replaced by a cold hard hateful glint.

I had lost me, the person I was would never ever do something like this.

I had become quite the expert liar and I had refused to ponder for more than a minuscule of a moment the consequences of my actions. I had got tired of doing all the giving and this was my selfish indulgence.

At this point, I would have let my husband kill me if he wanted. After all, I had committed the ultimate love crime.

But if I left him, he would hurt Matt and that was more than my conscience could bear. So I stayed.

I stayed even though he now constantly called me a bitch, whore, cunt until I believed it and that I was worth nothing. I was the one who fucked up. And I was.

It wasn't all bad, just sometimes.

But love, it doesn't come back when it is gone.

The worst bit?

Listening to the calls he made to Matt, well the messages he left on his phone because Matt would not talk to him.

I'm not sure I want to listen in person to someone saying that they were to electrocute certain parts of their anatomy over and over either and being strung upside down and tortured.

Multiple times.

Every day.

For six months.

Until one day, my husband asked for money and then he would stop the threats.

Money was received. It paid off a lot of debts. I had become a very expensive prostitute.

That didn't stop my husband. He went to visit Matt who lived a few hundred miles away.

He 'talked' with Matt and then arranged for him to have a good hiding, as he had got some of his army mates to come with him.

Was that enough?

No.

Matt's missus didn't know about the affair, so I was 'forced' to write a nasty letter informing her of our misdemeanors.

I think that was it then.

However, I made the chilling discovery of Matt's phone number, amongst my husband's possessions 10 years later.

But according to the website of the place where we worked, he still works there.

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