He was from Amsterdam. He crossed the pond to have an affair with me, we met in a chat room on the Internet. It was 1999.
I resented my husband for so many reasons; he worked constantly so he didn't have to spend time with the kids and I. When he was home it was my job to keep the kids quiet and out of his way so he could sleep or watch TV. I did everything, he helped with nothing, the kids were a burden to him.
After 7 years of bottled up resentment, and 2 years of meticulously debating leaving him … I finally realized I would never leave, and began flirting with disaster. Suddenly my world was filled with temptation and opportunity. There was my water boy, my butcher, my neighbor the firefighter, and my husband's co-worker buddy. My loins were driving me crazy obsessed with fantasies of falling in lust. Conniving thoughts raced through my head, searching for excuses to see these guys. The flirting with my neighbor became so intense that I made the wise decision to stop cold turkey. I had come to terms with the fact that I could never do this to his wife, who was also my friend. Always looking my best for the water boy, my eyes begging him to touch me, he would stay and talk with me for at least an hour each delivery. He was my easiest target. Single, sexy - he was so into me. He lived alone. I just couldn't do it. We never talked of having an affair but he always told me how hot I was. He loved spending time with me, it's crazy nothing ever happened, thank God he went to Australia for a 3-month vacation. That was close! The reality was, I could never take it to the next level with any of these guys, I was too scared.
Then I discovered chat rooms and became completely addicted. Little did I know, I was on a mission to find him - the man I would have my affair with.
'Hotguy' meets 'naturalgrl'... OMG how ridiculous this now seems.
"If u r, we need to talk". I hit send.
The tapping of the keys took hours to slow. Our banter was quick and witty, intelligent and intriguing. It was a meeting of the minds, he led me through his thoughts and I led him through mine. It was as though this was meant to be and now complete, like the last few pieces of a puzzle finally being fitted together. I felt entangled and surrounded by his words. Our conversations were always very stimulating, he was fun and interesting. I fell. I fell for his intellect. I fell for his poor English grammar. I fell for his looks and his European flare. When we spoke I fell for his accent, and finally I fell for the challenge - the distance that separated us.
I waited nervously at his arrival gate curiously looking at each man, searching for his features in one of them. They filed off in a neat line and dispersed in different directions, my heart was racing. Six months ago began this whirlwind connection. Will I like him? This could be a disaster. What if he's ugly... "OMG, don't panic just remember who he is, no matter what." He spotted me and smiled nervously. He looked slightly different than the pics I saw. He wore his hair short around the ears and neck, and long on top, it was thick with long sweeping bangs that would flop down over his eyes. His features were fine and chiseled. He wasn't a big man, but rather slight. He had a pack slung over his shoulder and a newspaper in his hand. He wore a haggard leather jacket, black slim fitting jeans, and loafers. He wasn't at all what I expected. At first a little shocked, so I remembered who he was, intelligent, worldly and fun. We hustled toward each other... cause that's how we were suppose to act, my stomach twisting with apprehension. Our greeting was a kind hello and an awkward embrace, he kissed my cheek. I continued to coach myself, "Give him a chance, remember the man you fell for." We recovered his luggage and happily made our way to my family mini van. My guard slipped away unnoticed as his familiar wit mended the disconnect, my once twisted stomach now unraveling. I begin to warm with excitement as he tossed his luggage in the rear.
The April shower sprinkled glitter in the streets, and the evening sparkled, as we made our way downtown to his high-rise hotel. Our conversation unstrained, an intermittent pause feels safe. "Marie...You are a very beautiful woman", he speaks to his own surprise. Abruptly I turn to look at him and find him captured in a moment, studying my profile he seemed truly taken back. As I absorbed the sincerity of his words I thanked him and smiled.
In my jeans and T-shirt I lay back on his bed. Finally having him next to me. His real face, real arms, his body, I was at last touching him. His fully clothed body lay on top of mine, with his chin at my chest I hold his face in my hands while he stares into my eyes. I have to study his features, we are suspended in marvel, not wanting to miss a detail, the stare never broken, the thought never occurs. His eyes are drawing me deep, his nose, his mouth, his chin, I leave nothing out. I can hardly believe his real face is here in my hands. We are completely fixated on each other. I swipe his bang away from his eye and allow it to slide through my fingers. I hold his face while his mouth meets mine and he devours me. Our tongues relieved to finally embrace. My body and soul slip away into pure ecstasy. All boundaries vanish as our encounter passionately transforms like art on a canvas. He buries his tongue inside my mouth I am completely swept by his style, instinctively I accept and respond to this new and unfamiliar dance. My heart is pounding through my chest and he kisses my nose, my eyes, my face. He licks my ear then forces his tongue deep inside, the thrill sends shivers down my spine and my body releases all inhibition. We pause again to stare and touch the others face as if to affirm this reality. He is so beautiful. Our lips meet again attracted like magnets, his kiss is amazing. He lifts my shirt to expose my tummy, I watch him while he enjoys my stomach, kissing and licking my belly button and my butterfly tattoo. He makes me feel so sexy, we are so emotionally connected he seems to know exactly how to touch me. At last, his lips and hands on my body, they sizzle like water droplets being soaked up by a thirsty desert.
I didn't want this night to end. I had to go soon my husband was working tonight but tomorrow he would leave for his spa weekend in Fairmont. I had booked it for him some time ago. If he were gone the entire weekend, I would have less to worry about. A conniving scheme, it's difficult to believe I had it in me to do such a thing. I would return around noon I had a fun day planned, lots to see and do in our city.
We didn't make love our first night, I think it made it all the more exciting. Leaving that to unfold in it's time. Just holding him, kissing him, touching him was completely perfect, it left us both wanting more. I knew from our first intimate encounter that when we finally made love it would be amazing. I trust him, he has an unusual way about him, he is different. He is a gentleman who is confident and in control, he is respectful and extremely sexy.
We would chat online almost everyday. He told me about his wife and two young daughters. He worked in the insurance industry, in an office building. We talked about music and his travels, he loved New York. He was going there this trip too. He had a feeling his wife was sleeping with the neighbor. He wore his wedding band on a chain around his neck, I kept mine on my finger, it was my way of saying fuck-you to my marriage. We had cyber sex on a few occasions, I had never done it before, it was exhilarating. Tapping out words on a keyboard and hitting "send", for some reason – nothing is off limits. It's like it's not really happening. Like it's not real. You are able to stay focused while your thoughts pour out uncensored, it is very empowering. My favorite fantasy was one he created. We made love on a fur on the floor in front of a huge fireplace in an old castle. We once made love on a cold rainy day on a bed full of pillows and a warm fluffy duvet. It would stir such passion in me creating these places in our mind. Describing the rain on the window, the smells the scenery and each other, what I'm wearing and how I take it off. It was artistic. Our daily chat rescued me from my life. It stirred a part of me I had long ago abandoned, my ability to create and connect, to have intellectually stimulating conversation. I felt alive, sexy, desirable and interesting. The happy chemicals being released in my brain kept me buzzing all day long.
I returned eagerly the next day. I had planned my outfits for him for the whole weekend. Today I was wearing my mini skirt with a jean jacket, and my favorite black clunky ankle high boots. I had prepared for this weekend with great detail, making sure my body was at it finest. I was a buff 115 lbs, being a fitness instructor helped tremendously. My nails manicured with a plain French paint and my body perfectly shaven and slightly tanned so to appease the eye and touch. My tummy was my best asset, even after 3 kids it was flat and taught, without any stretchmarks.
I found a parking spot in the parkade below, then made my way up the elevator to the 22nd floor of his hotel. I knock - nervous with excitement! The door swings in, our eyes meet and he wraps his arms around me and we kiss. We are so excited to be back together, the daylight somehow confirms we are real. He stands back... Not afraid to embarrass me or himself, he examines me slowly up and down, round and round then in his unrestrained, carefree manner - enthusiastically compliments me. I adore his candor. He brings me back in and holds me while we kiss, he smells so good...
He once created a fantasy where he would massage me with hot scented oils. Now he asks me, "Would I like that massage?" Without hesitation, I accept. I untie my boots and remove my socks. I lift my shirt over my head elated to reveal my torso. With my hair gathered to one side I relax down into the bed anticipating his warm hands on my back and he asks me to take off my bra. I am so taken with his boldness, he wastes no time - I want him so desperately.
My loins have been begging me to find a man for over a year. My emotions, my pheromones, my sexuality and spirituality fermenting - ready to explode like bottled champagne. This man from Amsterdam was sent to me to satisfy my deepest fantasies and my mind can hardly comprehend how perfect he is. For six months we've lived in each other’s heads, discussed love and tragedy, marriage and family, beautiful places and beautiful people, music and hobbies. Our communication always to delight the intellect. Feeling him touch me only in my mind has made me crazy. He already knows every inch of my body and at last he is touching it.
The oil slips down the small of my back when his hands come to settle upon my slippery skin. I immediately embrace the sensation. Once again I find myself so completely immersed in every moment, that I become aware of the pause between seconds. And time slows... I can hear his breath, I can sense his intoxication. His massaging hands annihilate any shred of reservation. He comes close and kisses my jaw next to my ear and his wet lips send electricity across my skin like pixy dust. He has a way of devouring me, like a giant wave imposing on a surfer only to take them somewhere they've never been. My emotions are swimming inside me. My head is spinning. The cells of my body diffuse to encapsulate his and I passively devour him. Innocently we are unaware that our souls have begun to fuse - forever. We make love, and it feels so right. I enjoy his naked body next to mine, holding me, and caring for me, while he learns what I need.
He was anticipating his visit to the world's biggest mall this afternoon, a tremendous playground for shopping and amusements. The mighty Santa Maria, submarine rides and dolphins. A two-story arcade, a wave pool and water slides. An ice palace, a roller coaster and rides. He dressed up as an out-law to have an antique photo for a souvenir. We raced our cars and played air hockey at the arcade. Down at Bourbon Street we ate, had drinks and talked. The day was unfolding like it was written for a storybook. And then it was time to take our sore feet and full bellies back to the hotel. We made love again. He made me orgasm. We held each other while he continued kissing my face and shoulders as we reminisced about this undreamt experience; it was exciting to him that my orgasm was so long.
And it was time for me to go. I had a hemp bracelet with wooden beads made special for him, I tied it to his wrist before I kissed him goodbye. I had taken up knitting wool socks with the accented heal and toe; I knitted him a pair and gave them to him the night before. These were expressions suspended in limbo left for interpretation. On my third and final night I would leave him a message in a bottle. I found a tiny glass bottle decorated with wire and jewels it was so pretty I had to have it. My message turned into a poem I composed about our encounter. I wrote it on a tiny piece of paper, rolled it up and forced it inside the bottle.
My neighbor could hardly wait to hear the news, gitty with excitement she demanded the details. I just could not wipe the smile from my face as I flopped back on my bed.
"Did you do it? Did you do it?" She meddled. This was another neighbor, she herself was in the middle of an ongoing affair with a married co-worker.
"Yes," I smiled while staring at the ceiling in a dreamy state.
"Oh my God Marie! How was it?"
The question triggered the memories and I was suddenly back making love to him. I squirmed with excitement as I told how amazing it was - completely out of this world. I felt a sense of relief. Somehow and in some strange way I felt a sense of accomplishment, almost surprised that I had finally done it. I have officially cheated on my husband I was out of the closet. It felt like it was meant to be. I was so done with my marriage I did not care in the least, I felt no guilt and had no regret. All I could think about was being next to him again the following night.
I wouldn't be able to go to him until late afternoon the next day. It was best that I spend time with my kids. I had picked the perfect dress and the perfect restaurant for our final evening together and I would be spending the night. My neighbor reluctantly agreed to keep my kids for the night. I planned to be home early the following morning to see them off to school, and arrange a sitter for my youngest while I then would return to take him to the airport and say my final goodbyes.
He met me downstairs, our dinner reservation was for 6, we were just a few blocks away. I had never been to this place, I was told the food was delicious and it had a very romantic ambiance. I was pleasantly surprised, it was the perfect setting. I didn't look around at the people, frankly I didn't care if I knew anyone, highly unlikely I would though. We ordered our food, he ordered the wine. The dim intimate lighting seemed to perfectly support our mood. The flickering candle on the table added just the right amount of glow to his face. Like a fuzzy dream the patrons around us slipped into a blur and disappeared, occasionally a gentleman would step in from behind the haze to tend to our needs. Spending time... Literally and in it's purest form we are beautifully and literally spending time... With my bare foot snuggled underneath his pant leg I connect our energy to enhance the already powerful charge we share.
Dinner was exquisite, the company magnificent. He introduced me to Port his favorite drink. Its full-bodied aroma saturated my nostrils and I knew instantly I would love it. Most Port comes from Portugal. My favorite is Taylor's Port, 20 year. It's his favorite past time - Port and cigars with his pals. He likes to collect Port.
The big city lights bring company to the evening. The view from the 22nd floor calms my senses like a lullaby. And I feel his hands on my shoulders then his lips on my neck. He unzips my dress and lifts it over my head. He kisses my bare shoulders my neck and... "mmmm"... I love it when he buries his tongue in my ear it's so erotic it makes me shutter! I turn to face him and we kiss furiously.
Yet again our sexual tension released. He lay on top of me kissing my face and neck while I enjoy the fitting words to Faith Hill's video "Breath". He'll be leaving tomorrow forever, I stop myself. "Don't go there." I quickly dismiss the thought and everything is back to perfect, he's kissing me while Faith Hill sings in the background. We make love one last time before falling asleep. I wake at 5am, change into my comfy clothes, leave his gift on the sink in the bathroom, kiss him goodbye and slip out the door, I'll be returning in a couple hours to take him to the airport.
I am forced to lie to another neighbor who babysits, she is a Christian lady and we once had a conversation about infidelity, she detests it. I make up a lie and she takes my youngest while I return to the city. This is the one time I actually feel any guilt. It bothered me a lot to lie to her with a straight face. I was fully aware of all my lies and betrayal but I didn't care. Whatever it takes, I was willing to sacrifice it all.
I find him in his room eating eggs. Aside from his socks and shoes, he appears ready to go. We pile his things into the van and make our way to the airport. That high-rise hotel about to become a huge nemesis in my not so distant future.
I turn one exit too soon and we are tempted to continue our road trip to Banff. I tell him about the mountains and the skiing, he loves to ski. He's always wanted to visit Banff. He'll be flying over the mountains today, his flight is short, he's off to Vancouver to visit a buddy who moved there and from there he's going to New York.
We get him checked in with plenty of time to spare, so we wander about the airport hand in hand. In the duty free liquor store we find a bottle of well aged Port he found interesting. It was $75, I had never seen a price tag like that on wine before. He didn't buy it, he probably wanted to keep his luggage to a minimum this was after all just the beginning of his trip.
Touching him felt so good we both needed more. Our urge to kiss and cuddle sent us on a search for a nice quiet spot. There were a couple people sitting up in the observatory watching the planes, but there was also an attached hallway with a big bright window at the end that offered more privacy. He lifted me up to sit in the niche next to the window while he stood in front of me holding me. All we could do was kiss and philander like teenagers. He had a way of making me smile. Once the people left we took over the bench. He sat down and I straddled him, he made fun of our pathetic "observatory" it made me laugh. He had a way of stating the obvious to lighten the mood, I enjoyed that he didn't take himself too serious, it made him even sexier. Our lips just fit. I loved my face so close to his. Our eyes use a language all their own that would precede then succeed our repartee. We didn't discuss the future because we both knew what it held. I couldn't bare the reality so it wasn't allowed in to ruin these brief moments. Each of these last seconds with him were brightly and vibrantly painted in the gallery of my life's most joyful moments. I can still see his face. I can still smell him. I can still see the amount of sunlight in the room, the bench we sat on and the light purple shirt I wore. My heart remembers him too.
The time is drawing close he suggests we get a drink, a flawless transition... The lounge is cold and quiet. He orders 2 gin & tonic yet another drink I had never entertained yet found rather pleasing. We talk about saying goodbye, I think he was concerned for me even though I wasn't letting on. "Let's pretend I'm only leaving for a little while," he says. Without realizing it, I immediately grab hold of that idea and wouldn't let it out of my sight. I played the game.
We make our way to his departure gate. A kiss goodbye, my hand slips out of his, our eyes fixed until he disappears through the door never to be seen again. The End. Like the curtain falls after the play - it's complete. My fantasy fulfilled from beginning to end, it was to exceed all imagined fantasies. I would hold this treasure forever, I wasn't going to feel lonely and abandoned, I was going to savor the experience over and over. And who knows, maybe one day we would meet again.
Driving away from the airport felt a little awkward. I did feel a bit sad, my hands felt empty. Three days ago he existed only in my imagination and now he had to return there. Maybe he didn't really exist. After all, the weekend was a masterpiece.
He was married and had a family, so did I. He was returning to his family, so was I. He lived in the Netherlands, I lived in Canada. His responsibilities and obligations were there, mine were here. We had no future, this was no secret. Maybe 10 years from now our kids would be grown and the possibility of being together not so obscure. But for now, I had to rejoin my life.
I knew he would be in touch. He called me from Vancouver to tell me he missed me and that his time with me was special. He got a tattoo, the Japanese symbol for "passion", on the same spot that I have my butterfly. He sent me a pic of himself from Stanley Park, the ocean in the background, I notice my bracelet still on his wrist. And all I know for sure is. I don't want to be married.
Coming Soon, Chapter 2 - THE FALLOUT