So I lunched with S today. Actually, I have lunched with S quite a few days recently. I dont know why I go. The very act of it feels like a betrayal to my wife. Feels like a betrayal to S. Of course I havent done anything with her, we are just friends, platonic, but part of me feels as though I am just being friends with her so that people will see us together. Part of me is hoping reports will get back to my wife and make her wonder, take stock of things, get her shit sorted and try and win me back. Will she bollox. I dont know why I torture myself with the possibilities. I feel bad for S because I genuinely enjoy her company, truly, but this shit is always in the back of my mind and why dont I ever learn that others dont look as closely as I do? Others dont watch people in the way that I do, professionally. Others dont give a shit whose eating with who, where and why. its only me that yearns to know what is going on.
So I lunch with her and no one sees us and no one cares if they do. She tells me things about her husband. She hates him, he is overweight he has 'fat sausage fingers' she feels nauseous when he tries to touch her or kisses her. She offers her cheek instead aware that this fuels the fire but unable to help herself, like a gut reaction, like a protective instinct and honestly, the way she recounts their sexual endeavors, she makes it sound like rape. Consentual rape, if that is possible. She is giving me pearls but fuelling my worries all at once. Now she gives my anxiety words and sentences to form into. Now when my wife looks at me before bed I am worried about my fingers, my breath, my body my eyes my torso and if she feels like I have raped her when she has 'allowed' me to make love to her? The trouble is that I am far too aware of the way her skin shrinks back towards the bone when I touch her or cuddle her. I can see it before we have even made contact and I refuse to push myself on a person in that way. I wont force myself in order to release to useless god-given desire to breed. No fucking way will I be reduced to that in the face of a woman that would rather eat pussy, I wouldn't dignify it.
I try and convince S to talk to her husband (how could I not take the poor bastards side...after all, I know how it feels). I try and convince her to see behind his actions and his worry and his mistrust and what am I now Oprah fucking Winfrey come Marriage Councilor? I amaze myself. I try all the same even though I know she is just thinking 'shut up and agree with me. My husband is an arse and you dont agree because your a man'. I can see it in her sighs and roll of the eyes, she is just too kind to turn her honest attacks on me.
She gives me pearls, the real heart of her real life and feelings and I give her bad advice. I dont mention my wife and her indiscretions. I dont mention my daughter and her boyfriend who is 3 times her age. I dont tell her these things because I like to think I have integrity. Even though they dont know that I know the things I know about them, it doesn't mean I can gloat to friends, poor little me, feel bad for me isnt my life a bag of fucking shit? I wont do it and besides, she has her own shit to deal with, namely Carl. Carl is the bloke she is seeing behind her husbands back. Carl is the guy she wanks on MSN to when her husband is in bed.
She eats and talks and eats and talks and sometimes I like to imagine (when going over the conversation in my head) that she is my wife and we arent married and we are just friends. I am my wifes best friend and not her annoying husband. I imagine she confides and opens up to me, saving me the bother of finding out for myself. I imagine that she has respect for me even if she isnt in love with me. Sitting in my office, assistant gone home, this is what I masturbate over. And there is something so lonely that blankets you as the feeling of ecstasy slowly throbs out of your body.