Confession of an Abandoned Wife - Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Hartstein, Michal

  Through the years that we’d been together, we had crises and quarrels, but I’d always thought our relationship had gotten stronger. In the past, when we fought, I knew that, despite all the anger and pain, I could never leave Itay because I couldn't bear the thought that he could ultimately belong to someone else. Was it that thought that still hurt me? I thought about it a lot, trying to defuse the anger and loneliness, and I finally decided that I didn’t care! Go to someone else, I thought. That same moment, I felt that I wanted someone else for myself.

  I wanted to be excited again! I wanted to love again! I wanted to have sex, not because I had to or to make a baby. I wanted wild and sensual sex!

  However, I didn't want to dismantle the package. A family with two parents was ideal for me.

  The spring break passed, and I finished up with a very unconventional conclusion: I realized that I needed a lover. I felt that Itay had just brought it on himself. He already had a lover - his job. I now had no problem if he also took a real lover.

  I decided I was going to find someone on the side.

  Once I came to the conclusion that I had no moral or emotional problem with having an affair behind Itay's back, I started looking for the ideal candidate. Suddenly every male in the street became a potential partner. Every supermarket delivery boy, every cop on the street, every customer who came to a meeting was kind of a candidate. I became sort of a porn screenwriter of the lowest type: pizza arrives… “Oh, I don’t have a tip… maybe I can give you a different kind of tip?” I smiled at all the ridiculous scenarios that ran through my head.

  Two weeks after Passover, Itay went off for his reserves duty, and I reached the conclusion that it was time to go back to The Marker Café. Raping a pizza delivery boy sounded a bit too sleazy for me.

  This time I decided that I wouldn't build mountains of expectations. I would demand a recent photo at the outset. I built myself a profile of the ideal partner for infidelity: he must be about my age, he must be married with children and he must be handsome. If I was going for it, I would do it with style.

  I didn't want someone older, younger or with no children because I didn't want him to have too much free time, which sounded to me like a recipe for problems. I wanted someone who had pretty much an agenda like my own, so we could adapt ourselves to each other.

  Plans are one thing and reality another. Just when I really looked for it, I didn't find anything. Apparently, men really run from desperate women. After a few nights sitting bored in front of my computer screen, I decided to renew my page. I remembered that when I was pregnant with Yarden, I was interested in pregnancy photography. In the end, nothing came of it, but I had the number of a very nice photographer. I called her and told her I was interested in some studio time, a few photos and some light photo editing. I wanted to look perfect.

  We made an appointment for Friday morning. I wouldn't be at work, the girls were in school and Itay was still on his reserves deployment.

  I took Yarden to kindergarten and then went straight to the studio. I wanted the images to be as natural as possible, though allowing for airbrushing and other adjustments. I was wearing tight jeans and a black bra with a white button down shirt over it. Dalia, the photographer, set a stool in the center of the studio; she asked me to take off my shoes and began shooting. She suggested opening my shirt to reveal my bra, and I accepted willingly. I felt sexy. Dalia also felt it and asked, a little hesitantly, if I wanted to be photographed nude. "Without it being obvious,” she promised.

  I went for it. I dropped everything and left only my panties on as I still had some red lines. I covered my breasts with my hands and Dalia, with her camera, flashed in all directions. She gave me a white satin sheet. I covered myself and was exposed simultaneously. I was aroused.

  Two hours later, I had to leave to arrive on time at school and kindergarten. Dalia complimented me and said I was great and would send me the pictures on Sunday.

  I got home with the girls at noon. Itay was waiting for us.

  "Where were you?" he asked nervously.

  “I was out. How long have you been waiting for us?"

  “I got home two hours ago," he sighed and came over to give me a kiss. "Since when do you wear makeup like that?" He asked as he approached me and discovered my generous layer of makeup. I had layered it on myself, but not had time to remove it when I ran to get the girls.

  "A zealous cosmetics saleswoman at the mall did it." I’d gotten an excuse ready when I noticed the makeup in the elevator on the way up.

  "You’re telling me that you spent a full day at the mall and bought nothing?" Itay was looking for bags.

  "You see," I smiled, "Your lectures are finally working."

  Itay's nervousness was soon replaced with a slight laugh, and we all went to eat.

  Saturday was quite pleasant. I was still on a high from the photographs, and I demanded sex from Itay, who was totally exhausted. I felt so sexy and he was so unenthusiastic, at least in my eyes, that it just pushed me further away from him.

  On Sunday morning, I parted from Itay with a smile. I'm not saying I didn't miss him. When you live with someone for so many years, it's hard to be apart. But unlike his other deployments, particularly those before we had children, I wasn't anxious, and it wasn't hard to say goodbye. I asked him to call when he got to the base, and I sent him on his way.

  In the evening, after the girls had gone to bed, I opened the special email and was shocked to see the pictures Dalia had sent. They were amazing.

  In some of them, my face wasn't very clear, and I decided to use those. My profile in The Marker Café included all my details, including pictures of the girls and Itay. I didn't want to put these images where people who knew me, or Itay, could enter and see.

  I opened a new account with a new nickname: Galit. I rounded my age down six months and gave no identifying details regarding my living area or work status. I stated explicitly that I was married. I knew that my marital status was most attractive for married men who were looking for a novel, non-binding fling.

  I spent a lot of time designing the profile, selecting images and downloading everything to the website. After I’d finished, I was tired and went to sleep.

  The next day I was busy, so it was more than twenty-four hours later, on Tuesday, that I logged into the site to find my inbox overloaded. I’d received dozens of requests for friendship, a significant number of invitations from all kinds of guys and even a message from a girl. I was very intrigued, but decided not to lead anyone on. I decided that this time I would be very calculating, so I carefully reexamined all the profiles of the men who approached me. After hours of research, I concluded that no one was worthy of me and went to sleep. I realized I was ‘excellent goods’ in The Marker Café, and I knew I could catch someone more appealing.

  The next day, I was curious to know who else I’d attracted, so I left the site open all day. Once again, I received a large number of messages, but I made sure to be in ‘unavailable to chat’ mode. At noon, I went out and closed the computer. When I returned, I forgot to check that I was unavailable. A few minutes later, I received a chat invitation.

  Even though I was quite busy, I decided to confirm the chat. I quickly perused the chat applicant's account. I wanted to see who it was.

  It was Guy: thirty-six, entrepreneur, married with three kids, lived in Ramat Hasharon, very handsome, at least in pictures. In one of his pictures, he was practicing judo. It turned me on; all these martial art, physical types were well-built with a solid body and broad physique.

  "Hey," he said. A standard start.

  "Good afternoon," I replied.

  "Good afternoon to you too. Where am I disturbing you?"

  "I'm at work. Truth is, I forgot to check the ‘unavailable’ box.”

  "So why did you approve?"

  "Curiosity."

  "I was intriguing to you?"

  "A little."

  "Like what? "

  "What is an entrepreneur?"


  "I'm kind of a businessman."

  "Which is?"

  "I see all kinds of business opportunities. In some, I stay on as a partner and in others I only charge a commission for assistance in developing businesses.”

  “Sounds great. In which faculty did you learn this?"

  "The faculty of life."

  "Good faculty."

  "I understand that if there’s no degree, it doesn’t count."

  "Actually, no. I'm just skeptical about all kinds of such vague definitions of entrepreneurs and business people."

  "So was my wife's mother, but when she saw the house and the car I bought for her daughter, her skepticism disappeared."

  "Wow. Sounds like it's going pretty good for you."

  "I can’t complain."

  "I saw in your pictures that you do judo."

  "Yes."

  "What belt are you?"

  "Black."

  "Wow."

  "I’ve been practicing for years."

  "I also practiced for years."

  "At what?"

  "Tennis."

  "Why did you stop?"

  "When I got pregnant, I was afraid that the balls would hit me in the stomach, and I never went back."

  "How many children do you have?"

  "Two girls. I understand from your profile that you have three children?"

  "Two boys and a girl."

  "Nice."

  "Tell me something - those profile images are yours?" He was a direct guy.

  "Yes."

  "So sexy."

  "Thank you."

  "I’m sure you get a lot of offers."

  "Not a bit. Listen, Guy, I have to go… I have to go pick up the girls."

  "So maybe I'll call you?"

  I remembered all the long chats with Hanoch, the anticipation, the tension and, finally, the big disappointment of the meeting and decided that this time I'd cut quickly to the chase.

  "OK." I amazed myself.

  "Give me a number."

  "No, give me yours. I'll call you from the car."

  I ran to the car. I didn't want to procrastinate too much. I started the car and immediately dialed Guy.

  "Galit?"

  "My name’s Sharon," I confessed immediately.

  "Better." He had a nice voice.

  "So how do you have the time during the day to chat online?"

  "I'm on a laptop at a coffee house, waiting for a meeting in half an hour."

  "Guy - it's your real name?"

  "Yes.

  "Can I be direct with you?"

  "Sure."

  "What are you looking for?"

  Guy was silent for a moment and then said almost in a whisper, "Thrills."

  "So why did you turn to me?"

  "Because I think that's what you're looking for also."

  "I want to confess."

  "Come on."

  "I've never done it."

  "What?"

  "Had an affair."

  "There’s always a first time."

  "You don't realize how green I am."

  "Surprise me."

  "I've never slept with any man other than my husband."

  "Really?"

  "Want to hear something even more crazy?”

  "What?"

  "I’ve never even kissed another guy." Of course, I didn't count the forced kiss with Hanoch.

  Guy fell silent for too long.

  "Hello?" I checked to see if he had hung up.

  "Sharon, you amaze me."

  "Thank you."

  "You have no idea how much I want to meet you." My heart began to knock violently.

  "Why?"

  "Because you’re sexy as hell and sound like a completely different girl."

  "What do you mean, different?"

  "I don't know any girl who only has sexual experience with one man."

  "That's the way it is with orthodox girls."

  "You’re religious?" He sounded even more excited.

  "Ex-religious."

  "You must meet me," he said decisively.

  "I don't know…" I tried to get away. I was still a little afraid.

  "We don't have to do anything you don't want."

  "I have no idea what I want."

  "Great." I could actually hear him smiling, "Let's meet in a café in a public place. So you can just get up and leave whenever you want."

  I thought for a moment and replied, "OK."

  This was what I was looking for.

  CHAPTER 9

  I met Guy that same evening. I knew that if I waited a few days, I’d get cold feet. We were set to meet in a bustling Tel Aviv bar at nine.

  Itay was still away, so I didn't have to make too many explanations to anyone. I just booked a babysitter and went out. On the other hand, it was strange that it was so easy for Guy to make an appointment for nine.

  I wore a sexy blue dress and high-heel shoes that I never wore when I was with Itay because we’re the same height and, with heels, I'm half a head taller. I was lightly perfumed and had put on some makeup. When I want to, I can look good.

  When I went into the bar, I didn't recognize Guy. I called him from my mobile and told him I was there. He emerged from a corner, and, I admit, my heart missed a beat. He was all I’d seen in the pictures and more: very tall, well over 6 feet, with broad and muscular shoulders and short black hair, which was graying around the temples. His eyes were similar to mine, a deep green. I felt so out of place. How could such an idol want someone like me, I thought. This guy could get anyone he wanted, really, anyone. I remembered my meeting with Hanoch, and I realized that now I knew how Hanoch had felt. I’d just met with someone from another league altogether.

  Guy approached me. I carefully examined his glances. I was looking for a glimmer of recoil, but couldn't find one. He came closer to me, kissed me on the cheek, whispered, "Beautiful," in my ear, confidently placed his left hand on my waist and pulled me toward a discreet table he’d kept for us. It was an area with two parallel sofas. He sat opposite me.

  "You found the place easily?" he asked after settling in front of me.

  "Yes," I smiled. "I went online to look at the website.”

  "I love this place." He signaled one of the waitresses to come over. "I'm kind of at home here."

  The waitress came to our table, and it was clear that she did know him. I knew it might not be sexy to eat at such a meeting, but I was hungry and ordered toast. I wanted to have a salmon sandwich, but I didn't want to mess up my breath; I didn't know where my mouth would be later in the evening.

  The waitress went away and I immediately asked, "Your wife doesn't care about you disappearing off into the evening?"

  "No. She’s used to my business meetings and dinners with clients and partners. Sometimes, she even joins me."

  "I guess not all your meetings are with clients and business partners?"

  He smiled. "Not all." Guy grinned, showing his perfect white teeth. "What about your husband?"

  "My husband’s on reserves duty."

  The waitress arrived with our drinks and I stopped. I felt like I’d been caught in the act. I remained silent even after the waitress walked away, and Guy picked up the conversation from the same point.

  "So - your husband’s in the reserves and you’re celebrating."

  "I'm not celebrating." I looked down at my glass of juice. "I told you I'm new to the world of exciting encounters."

  "From the experience I had on reserve duty, I can tell you there’s a reasonable chance your husband is doing, right now, exactly what you're doing."

  "What do you mean?"

  “When I used to go on reserves duty, almost all guys in my battalion celebrated." I looked at him, puzzled, and he continued. "For reservists, reserve duty means freedom. It's logout time: logout from home, work, wife and children. Suddenly, you're back to being nineteen, carefree, a bachelor."

  The truth is that Itay told me that many guys from his regiment cheated on their wiv
es whenever they were on reserve duty. There were even some that extended their time on duty and said they were staying on base on the weekends while they actually went out with their mistresses. And some even delayed returning home after a reserve tour ended. But I believed in Itay; he didn't play games like this when he was in the reserves or when he was home.

  "My husband told me stories like that, but I believe he’s faithful."

  "How do you know?"

  "I’ve lived with this man for almost twelve years. I think I can tell when he’s lying to me and when he’s not."

  "If you say so." He clearly didn't want to get into a confrontation.

  "Does your wife know that you’re not faithful to her?"

  "I guess so."

  "Really? And she doesn't mind?"

  "Look, she doesn't know for sure, but my feeling is that she’s in such a convenient place in life - beautiful home, new cars, trips abroad every month and credit cards that always work - that she doesn't bother to confront her fears."

  "And does she have concerns?"

  "I don't know if the correct term is ‘concerns,’ but we've been married for nine years. She’s known me long enough to know that I’m not a one-woman man."

  "Why’s that?"

  "I get bored easily, I love the excitement, I look good and women are attracted to me."

  "Modest..."

  "No, I'm not modest, but I'm not a hypocrite. I'm a very forward person. I’ll tell you, for example, right now, despite everything I do, I would never divorce my wife. Not that I love her… love was over long ago, but I respect her and the family structure is important to me."

  "I think you get confused between love, lust and infatuation."

  "Maybe."

  "So you don't love your wife?"

  "You love your husband?"

  "Sometimes yes and sometimes no, depending on how annoying he is."

  "So maybe I love my wife. I don't know. To me, love’s an emotion that really means passion and butterflies in the stomach."

  "It sounds to me like falling in love."