Flip for Infidelity

TW: Sex. “We could hurt a lot of people. People we love,” she said. “How about we leave it up to the coin?” She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a shiny silver coin. His eyes lingered on her body. “What do you think? Heads, this is the end. Tails, we keep going?”

He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he didn’t want to stop either. As much as he loved his wife, there had been nothing between them in bed for a long time. At first he had tried to conjure up the old sparks. Every rejection hurt more than the one before. Eventually he’d stopped trying.

The coin twinkled beneath bright fluorescent light as it spun in the air. She caught it. Her eyes scoured his for protest, to tell her to stop. She wanted him to make the decision either way. She couldn’t. Neither could he.

Her palm opened. Tails.

Both exhaled relief and guilt. The coin fell to the floor as he pulled her into a kiss that he’d been saving up for days. Sweet lust was a balm for rejection. Their hands wandered to familiar holds. Kissing her neck, his eyes drifted over a photo of her and her husband. The lustful addict's mind tried to block out the image of their new love, her and her husband. He had those photos on his walls at home. Reminders of what had been, of what should be.

Her hips pressed to him as they tangled together. He tasted the white wine on her lips. She tasted cider on his. Hands slipped beneath the unwanted layers of clothing. “Come to bed.”

“You’re sure he won’t come back?” he asked, holding her face to be eye to eye. They were prone to lusty distractions. It wasn’t a risk he could take.

“He’s gone for the week. Back on Friday. I told you that,” she said with a flicker of anger. He was cautious, like her, but she wanted to throw that aside. Living in the moment was the only way for the affair to survive.

“Good.” He began unbuttoning her shirt.

“Happy to see me?” she asked, with her hand down his trousers.

“Happy to have you in my arms again. I’ll be even better when we’re in bed,” his smile devilish, was the mirror of hers. Her hand held something that was not his and led him to her bed.

She paused before the sheets. “Just a second.” She let go of him and lifted photos off the wall, turning them around. As if the image of her husband would see their crime through the glass of the frames, she hid them away. He was happy not to see them either, not to be reminded of a good man their trist would destroy. A good man who left her wanting, he reminded himself. It wasn’t fair, but he needed to tell himself that.

“Eyes on me,” she said. She kissed him, his neck and began pulling his shirt over his head. “It’s just us. You and me. Make me scream.” She threw back red dyed hair and focused her blue eyes upon him. An eager hand ripped away his belt and threw it to the ground.

Twelve condoms waited on the bedside table. Seven remained when they collapsed in a pile of sweat and satisfaction.

“First time I’ve had sex in this bed,” she said, smiling with a drunken grin. Sweat stuck her neon red hair to her head. Black showed through at the roots. “You should go soon,” she said, eyeing her clock. Glowing white digits flickered through minutes and hours casually.

“Yeah. But I don’t want to,” he said, running a hand over her thigh.

“One more hour, then I’m kicking you out.” Her smile said it was a hollow threat.

“I’d better make the most of it then,” he said. His eyes feasted upon her curves.

An hour later their throats screamed for water. They drank from plastic bottles. She was water for his parched ego. They were islands of company in a lonely sea.

“Why can’t marriage be like this?” she asked.

“It was at first, wasn’t it?” He ran fingers through her hair. They were flushed from the exercise. “Life together chips away at romance. Everything becomes routine. Everything you did out of love becomes a habit. You forget to thank each other for the little things.”

“And then they have better places to be than with you,” she finished for him. Grief for something dying filled her chest with a sigh that would not come.

“And now the first one I want to tell something when I’m excited is you. I want to see the smile when you laugh. I want to feel the warmth of it.” He groped her. She held the hand there.

“You really need to go now,” she said, nodding to the unrelenting clock.

“I need a shower,” he said, body glistening with sweat.

“Then I’ll have to join you.” She took his hand and led him through her home. Their muscles ached. Neither cared. Hot water soothed damage done by carnal indulgence. Hands denied the constant drag of time.

He was late as he slipped on his shoes at her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” He sniffed them to be sure he didn’t smell of her.

“See you tomorrow. You’d better run, naughty boy.” She closed the door behind him. Reality wrapped an arm around his shoulder as he looked at the city beyond her home.

Rush hour on the train had him shoulder to shoulder with people who’d been working while he’d been playing. Tired eyes were glued to phones. Headphones kept them in worlds of their own.

Are you almost home? I bought dinner, said a message from his wife.

Nearly there, running a little late today.

Tough day at work?

A bit, he lied. I won’t be long.

Thanks, sexy. I had a great time. I hope we can do it again before my husband gets back. Should I keep the condoms? asked his mistress.

No. You might forget. Make sure it’s all gone without a trace. You washed the sheets?

They’re washing. Shame to waste so many innocent condoms before they could do anything wrong. ;) I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I wish you didn’t have to leave. Me too. Sometime I’ll have to stay the night. His smile at the thought almost hurt.

Don’t tease me. When would that be possible?

I don’t know, he texted.

At least the coin toss went the right way.

Yeah. Realising he was thinking about her body surrounded by people, he tried to wind down his excitement. Stop. I’m on a busy train. I can’t think about you right now.

Of course you can. You can think about me in the shower, on the bed. Any position you like.

Stop. I need to go. See you tomorrow.

Kiss.

He slipped through men and women in heavy coats, off the train, onto the windy station platform. Closing the messages from his lover, he shook himself. Five minutes of walking had him at his door.

A loving wife opened the door with a smile on her face. “You’re back. Ouch. You look tired.”

“I am,” he admitted. His nose ate up the smell of his favourite cottage pie. Guilt tied a knot in his stomach. Washing his hands in the sink, he looked at dirty dishes he’d only washed the night before. “How was your day,” he asked, as he always did.

“Usual stuff. Some guy crashed his sports car and needed stitches around his eye. Might take his foot off the accelerator next time.

One woman cut off a finger making soup. I told her to use scissors for cutting meat next time. She thought I was joking.

A guy broke his back falling off a ladder. He’ll be lucky to walk again. That was a half shift,” she said, slumping into her chair heavily.

“Want a drink?” he asked, reaching for beer in the fridge.

“No.” She flipped through TikTok on her phone, smirking at something that was gone a moment later.

Sitting across from her he popped the lid off his beer and held it up. “To you.” His eyes waited for hers to look up from the screen.

“To me,” she sighed. Putting down the phone without looking at him, she tucked into the food on her plate. Her shoulders sagged.

“I’ve got a holiday coming up. So do you.” He looked up from a forkful of steaming mince. “Want to do something?”

She shrugged. Her phone buzzed. The black screen flashed white. She checked and put the plastic block back on the Ikea table.

In the shower they talked about television as always. The main actor from the vampire show they liked was being recast. He kissed her shoulder as they stood side by his side beneath the water. Her body shrank away.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. Just tired.” In bed, he wrapped an arm around her. She took his hand off and pushed it away. “Not tonight,” she said. The glow of her phone lit the dark room.

He turned over, wishing he had never left the other house. A smiling photo of his wife looked down upon him as he cried silent tears.