The Adulterer's Handbook

by Sam Anthony

  Unfortunately, five minutes before the allocated time, Sophia pre-empts me and sends a text message of her own.

  “Thank you, sweetie. That was heavenly. I’m so glad we’re back together. I’ve already started planning some fun activities for next Friday!!! Xxxxx”

  Ah!

  This just got a lot harder.

  My first instinct is to accept the status quo. It was an exceptionally enjoyable way to spend a Friday lunchtime, and the prospect of a repeat performance in a week’s time is very tempting indeed. Also, I wouldn’t have to deal with the histrionics that would inevitably follow if I was to tell Sophia that our affair definitely is over, and that today was simply a mistake on my part. However, I know it can’t continue. The sex is lovely, but the price is too high. Sophia is becoming emotionally dependent on me and the likelihood of being found out is rising as she ceases to fully adhere to the rules of our affair. This isn’t what we agreed, and I feel justified in calling a halt to the whole business. It’s regrettable that I slipped up today, but Sophia was naked for goodness’ sake.

  I carefully edit my response.

  “I’m so sorry, Soph. I was weak today. That should never have happened. It was my fault for coming to your house. It’s obviously not safe for us to be alone together. Our affair has to stop. That was the last time. It was indeed heavenly. Let’s leave it at that, with one last wonderful time together. Still friends?”

  I wait anxiously for a reply, half expecting to hear a scream of anguish coming from Sophia’s office.

  When the reply arrives, it’s not what I’m expecting.

  “You’re wrong, I’m afraid. I won’t rest until I’ve convinced you of what I already know: WE BELONG TOGETHER!!!”

  This is new. I compose a quick reply; I want to go home.

  “I fear you’ll be wasting your time and energy. As far as I’m concerned, our affair has ended amicably and we’re now just good friends.”

  “And as far as I’m concerned, we are still in a sexual relationship and we’re very much in love with each other. I simply need to convince you of that fact. Xxx”

  “I think we might have to agree to disagree then, but I won’t be coming round to your house anymore or sending you inappropriate messages.”

  “We’ll see! Have a good weekend. I’ll be in touch, sweetie. Xxx”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Final Straw

  “Oh my God! What’s happened to your back?”

  It’s the morning after my relapse and I’ve just stepped out of the shower.

  “Nothing.” I try to inspect myself over my shoulder in the bathroom mirror, but the steam and the uncomfortable angle make it impossible to see anything on my back.

  I grab a shaving mirror and go into the bedroom to look at a reflection of my reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

  Now I see what Tamsin has already spotted. There are several red, raised weals on my back. To me, it looks exactly like the marks that would be left after someone with sharp fingernails scratched someone else’s back during unrestrained, no holds barred fornication. I have no recollection of Sophia being quite so aggressive, but in the heat of unbridled rough sex, I probably just didn’t notice it happening.

  “Crikey! That looks nasty,” I say.

  “I agree. How did you do it?”

  “Er ... When I was out running after work yesterday I tripped and fell over. It didn’t seem too bad at the time.”

  “You fell over while running and landed on your back?” Tamsin says, incredulous.

  “Yeah. I guess I must have stumbled over a tree root or something and I sort of twisted in midair and came down heavily on my back.”

  “That must have really hurt.”

  “Not that much actually. My pace was pretty good, and I thought I might be close to a record run, so I just rolled up onto my feet and kept going. I’d completely forgotten about it until now.”

  “You need to be more careful, Lee. You’re no spring chicken anymore.”

  “You’re right. I’ll definitely be more careful in future.”

  I will. No more adultery. That was the last time I’m ever going to be unfaithful to my wife. There’ll be no more suspicious scratch marks, text messages or phone calls from now on.

  ◆◆◆

  Tamsin takes the dirty washing out of the laundry basket and sniffs the shirt I was wearing yesterday.

  “Mmm! Your shirt smells nice. Are you wearing new aftershave?”

  “No. Just my usual stuff,” I say.

  “I like it. It’s quite a feminine smell. Vanilla possibly?” She sniffs it again and hands it to me for confirmation. She’s right. Tamsin is something of an expert when it comes to vanilla.

  “How strange. Perhaps all the ice-cream I’ve been eating has affected my sweat glands.”

  “Yeah. Two things, genius: it doesn’t work like that and you don’t even like ice-cream.”

  “Good point.”

  It’s puzzling that my shirt smells like it does, because that’s undeniably the fragrance of Sophia’s body lotion. She was wearing it yesterday, presumably ignoring rule seven as she wasn’t expecting to be getting quite so intimate and physical with me. However, when I showered afterwards, all trace of the smell should have been eliminated, and yet there’s a noticeable vanilla aroma emanating from my shirt.

  “I reckon you’ve been sampling ladies perfume at the shopping centre. If you want me to buy you a less manly aftershave, you only need to ask.” She smiles, unable to resist teasing me at every opportunity.

  “Thanks, Tam. I’ll think about it.”

  ◆◆◆

  In the evening, I’m watching television with Tamsin when she pauses the movie and turns to me.

  “I saw one of your colleagues in town today.”

  “Oh yeah.” My heart speeds up in anticipation of another potential crisis. “Who was it?”

  “Sophie? Sophia? Something like that. I met her at your Christmas party. The chubby one.”

  “Ah. Did you chat?” I’m beginning to sweat.

  “We did actually. She came over and said hello and then started asking about our holiday. She spoke to me as if we were lifelong friends. It was bizarre.”

  “I didn’t realise you knew each other that well.”

  “We don’t. It made me rather uncomfortable, to be honest.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing really. She said you’d told her all about our summer holiday, and she was thinking of going to the same region with her husband. I can’t remember his name. John is it?”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s Joe,” I say.

  “That’s it. She was mostly trying to get my advice about the local restaurants, as far as I could tell.”

  “I see.”

  “Maybe I’ve made a new friend.” Tamsin looks at me wryly.

  “Maybe you have. Shall we carry on with the movie?”

  “Yeah.” She presses play and we say no more about it.

  I’m struggling to concentrate on the plot, however, as deafening alarm bells are ringing regarding Sophia’s recent erratic behaviour.

  Did she deliberately cause those marks on my back in order to make Tamsin suspicious? Did she tamper with my shirt while I was in the shower to make it smell questionable? Did she approach Tamsin in town as some sort of warning to me?

  I’m worried that Sophia is no longer trying to conceal our affair. On the contrary, she seems to be trying to point Tamsin towards it by giving her obvious clues. Perhaps she’s decided that if I won’t leave Tamsin to be with her, then she’ll force Tamsin to leave me.

  ◆◆◆

  After an anxious night, with little sleep, I was too stressed to even try to initiate sex with Tamsin this morning, but she didn’t appear to notice. There have been no more Sophia incidents and I’m beginning to relax as we all sit down for Sunday lunch. Tamsin and John have cooked us a delicious looking roast dinner, but I can’t say I’m particularly hungry.

  Five minute
s into the meal my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  I ignore it. I hate it when people use their cell phone during mealtimes. We should be conversing with each other, not looking at our gadgets.

  It vibrates again twice more in quick succession.

  I ignore it and ask Charlie to pass me the roast potatoes.

  During a lull in the conversation, we all hear my phone buzz three more times.

  “Someone’s very popular today,” Tamsin says, looking annoyed.

  “Sorry. It’s probably just notifications about the goals in a football match.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s playing at the moment, Dad,” John contributes, helpfully.

  Four more evenly spaced vibrations. They’re coming roughly every thirty seconds now.

  “I’ll turn it off,” I say.

  I take the phone out of my pocket and have a sly glance at the screen below the level of the table, so nobody else can see it.

  “It’s only Jake. I’ll give him a call after lunch.”

  I switch off my phone and replace it in my pocket.

  Tamsin looks suspicious.

  I wonder what she’d say if she’d seen the message that I’d just glanced at.

  It contained a photo of something I recognised immediately.

  Sophia had decided that Sunday lunchtime was the appropriate moment to send me a photo of her vagina.

  ◆◆◆

  It’s not until evening, while Tamsin is having her Sunday night bath, that I switch on my phone again and look at the messages.

  The first few are graphic photos of body parts: vagina, breasts, legs, anus, lips, ear, fingers, buttocks. None of the snapshots enable the viewer to identify the owner of these erogenous zones, but I’m well acquainted with all of them. Together they make up a deconstructed collage of my favourite parts of Sophia.

  Then the messages begin.

  “Hi!!!!!!!!!!! Xxx”

  “I hope you like my photos, sweetie. Xxx.”

  “They’re all parts of my body that you know intimately! X”

  “I had a lovely time on Friday. I hope you did too. Xxx”

  “I can’t wait to do it again next Friday. Xxx”

  “And the following Friday! Xxx”

  “Soon we’ll be able to do it every day!!! X”

  “I hope you realise how much I’m in love with you. Xxx”

  “This ………..”

  Twelve minutes elapsed until the subsequent message arrived.

  “........... much! Xxx”

  “I had a lovely chat with Tamsin yesterday.”

  “How strange that I should just happen to bump into her in town!”

  “I really don’t understand what you see in that shrew. She’s so scrawny!”

  “I bet she doesn’t make you come as hard as I do!!! Xxx”

  “I’d better go. Things to do. Plans are afoot! X”

  “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow, sweetie! Xxx”

  “No need to reply. I know you’re probably busy having your lunch! Xxx”

  I’m going to have to have serious words with Sophia tomorrow. She’s completely out of order.

  ◆◆◆

  While I remember, I quickly send a text message to Jake.

  “Hi, mate. If Tamsin asks, you sent me a load of messages today at about 13:15.”

  “WTF???” came his speedy reply.

  “It’s not my fault. I did the right thing and split up with the woman from work, but she’s having trouble accepting it’s over. She sent me a bunch of messages today during Sunday lunch! I told Tamsin they were from you, so if she asks, you know what to say.”

  “All right, mate. I’ve got your back. But let’s make this the last time, yeah?”

  “Agreed. Thanks again for taking John to the football. He had a great time.”

  “No problem. It was good fun.”

  “See you soon.”

  “Will do. And be careful, mate. This Sophia sounds a bit unstable.”

  “No worries, mate. It’s all under control.”

  My memory must be deteriorating as I get older. Jake and I have only communicated a couple of times regarding Sophia, and I’ve absolutely no recollection of telling him her name.

  ◆◆◆

  I spend another uncomfortable night thinking about what to say to Sophia when I see her next. What’s the best way to convince her that our affair is over and that we both have to get over it and move on with our lives?

  ◆◆◆

  The following morning, I start my car engine and begin to reverse down the drive. The back windscreen is filthy, so I switch on the rear wiper to clear away the worst of the grime. That’s when I spot it.

  Stuck under the wiper, there’s another envelope. It looks identical to the one I found the other day at work. Not wishing to draw attention to it, in case anyone is watching me from the house, I drive along the road and out of sight before stopping the car and retrieving the letter.

  I tear it open to find another type-written message on a single piece of paper.

  “If you don’t tell your wife, then I will.”

  That’s all.

  It’s got to be from Sophia. But this time she left it at my house. At my house! How dare she? What if Tamsin or one of the kids had found it? It had no name on the front so anyone might have opened it. I would have struggled to explain it away if anyone else had found the letter and asked me about its meaning.

  This has got to stop.

  Now!

  ◆◆◆

  I drive to work, getting angrier by the minute. The stress is starting to get to me. I want to go back to my nice, easy, relaxed life, when all I had to worry about was my expanding waistline, hair loss and the kids taking drugs or getting pregnant.

  On my arrival at work, I march straight into Sophia’s office and have a go at her.

  “What do you think you’re playing at? Your behaviour is completely out of order!”

  She can tell that I’m furious and she tries to placate me.

  “Calm down, Lee. This isn’t the time or the place for this conversation.”

  “I don’t care! I want to resolve it now. Once and for all.”

  “Not here. Keep your voice down. People are starting to stare at us.”

  “Where and when, then?”

  “My house? Lunchtime?”

  “Oh, no! I’m not falling for that one again. As soon as you get me there, you’ll probably try to seduce me.”

  “You didn’t seem particularly unwilling last time.”

  “You lured me there and lead me astray in a moment of weakness.”

  “Are you saying you didn’t want to have sex with me last Friday, because you seemed to be really enjoying it?”

  “No. I honestly didn’t.”

  “So you had sex against your will?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Lee, are you accusing me of rape?” she says, raising her voice slightly.

  “Shhh! No. Of course not. Look, perhaps this isn’t the best place for this conversation.”

  “I agree.”

  “What about in the car park at lunchtime?” I say.

  “Don’t you think it’ll seem suspicious if we start having a heated conversation in the car park?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I really think my house is the best and the safest place to meet. I promise I won’t rape you this time.”

  “Or cry on me? Or take off any of your clothes?”

  “Agreed,” she says, believing that she’s convinced me.

  She hasn’t. I begin to decline her invitation. “I’m not sure …”

  “For goodness’ sake, Lee! We need to talk in private. There’s something important I have to tell you. I think it’ll make you extremely happy.”

  “I doubt that very much. Unless you’re going to tell me you’ve come to your senses and you want to apologise for your nutty behaviour.”

  “You’ll find out at lunchtime.”

  “Okay.” Withou
t another word, I head back to my desk, resolving to behave flawlessly this time.

  ◆◆◆

  When I arrive at Sophia’s house, I barge through the back door without knocking. I want this over with as soon as possible, and I’m single-minded in my resolution to behave exactly as a married man should.

  Sophia looks radiant and greets me warmly; a contented smile on her face.

  “Your coffee, sweetie.” She starts to hand me a mug, but I wave it away.

  “Forget the coffee. Let’s just have our conversation, resolve this mess and get back to work.”

  “If that’s what you want. But if you fancy making love to me, upstairs or in the garden, then I’m also up for that.” She actually winks at me.

  “That’ll never happen again, Soph.”

  “Oh, I think it will. I’ve been…”

  I interrupt. “Listen! Have you been leaving clues for Tamsin, so she’ll start figuring out we had an affair?”

  “What do you mean?” Sophia looks a picture of innocence.

  “You must realise how badly you scratched me on Friday. I had big red gouges all over my back from your fingernails digging into me. When Tamsin noticed she was suspicious straight away. Luckily, I made up a convincing story, but it was a close shave.”

  “Lee, you can’t blame me for my behaviour in the heat of passion. Sometimes you get me so turned on I lose control. You should see those scratches as a compliment to your superb lovemaking skills.”

  She isn’t taking this seriously at all.

  “I can’t help suspecting you did it deliberately.” I scrutinise her face, looking for signs of culpability.

  “That’s crazy!” she says.

  I need to maintain my momentum before she changes the subject or starts removing items of her clothing.

  “And what about my shirt? Did you put body lotion on it when I was in the shower?”

  “What! Why would I do that?”

  “So Tamsin would smell it and think I was having an affair.”

  “Of course not. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Then why did my shirt stink of your body lotion the next morning?”