My confusion is easing. I’d never had all four together. Sure, when I first got together with Dave, we had the loving connection and the tension, but because of our relative inexperience, neither knew exactly how to please the other. I now think that in John, I saw the possibility of having everything. I knew he had deep feelings for me. I could not only see it in his eyes, but knew he would never contemplate risking his marriage and family without it. The tension would be there in triplicate. How quickly would we be compatible sexually? I was much more experienced now and knew exactly what I wanted. John just oozed sexual confidence and must have had loads of previous partners. If we discussed what we both liked beforehand, then we’d hit the ground running. Not only that, but the discussions would, and, in fact, did, build up the tension. I’m getting wet just at the memory of the month that followed that first trip. No, concentrate, Lisa. You’re writing this bloody thing to remind yourself that in the long run it’s just not bloody worth it.
The next day, I wasn’t introduced as ‘my beautiful new assistant’. Nor did John touch me in any way. I think he was worried I was misinterpreting him and deliberately backed off. I admired him for that. The drive home was neutral. I was waiting for Dave when he got home, dragged him to bed and gave him a night to remember, I can tell you.
The admiration I felt for John, turned to frustration over the next few weeks. I missed the flirting, the compliments, and the subliminal sexual tension. By three weeks, I’d pretty much resolved to seduce him. I’d held something in my hands and now it was gone. I had to get it back.
The two girl’s nights in those three weeks, I used to gather information. Two of my former colleagues, I knew, were having affairs. I subtly pumped them for information, which they both unashamedly provided. One even confirmed she only hung on to lovers for a few months until the tension and the newness wore off. I pretended to be concerned they’d get caught. That way I learned much about how to successfully hide things. At work, I ceased researching predators and moved on to how wives having extramarital romances (to this day I still can’t call it cheating) are discovered.
At the office, John didn’t object to my complimenting him on his sharp suits and touching him at every opportunity. I knew I was on track, when one day I was standing behind his chair, explaining something on his computer screen, when I brushed his neck with my breast. He must have felt my erect nipple because he half turned and kissed my shirt bump lightly. He apologised profusely and we returned to work. I knew then that I’d have to take it slow.
As we drove away on our next two-day trip, I felt in control. I wasn’t fully committed to having an affair, but was lining John up so the decision on whether we did or not was mine. I managed to turn the conversation to sex several times. Telling John of the memorable encounters I’d had over the years. John questioned me for details enthusiastically. That trip, I was back to being introduced as ‘my beautiful assistant’. I know now that was when I began to forget where I fell in the beauty spectrum. After all, if a virile man tells you how attractive you are five times a day, who are you to deny it?