Chapter Eight

I lay in bed, wide awake. Three o'clock in the morning. Gary slept like the dead, and had been snoring for hours. I jealously kept tossing and turning, replaying the past few afternoons over and over in my head.

Fighting sleep wasn't getting me any closer to dreamland and I figured I might as well get up and do something productive. I donned my slippers and bathrobe and went downstairs.

I tried to tackle some stuff for work but couldn't concentrate, so I finally decided to catch up on some laundry. It was my most hated household chore, but it was a mindless task that kept me busy.

I thought back to earlier this evening. I had a wonderful time with Gary, but it was certainly overshadowed with feelings of guilt over what had transpired in our bedroom without him the last few days. I hadn't had an orgasm since masturbating on Tuesday night, but I was so distracted that I felt even more out of sync with him than normal, and our roll in the hay was only remotely satisfactory – right on par with our usual lovemaking, I suppose.

I chastised myself for not seeing the signs that it wasn't him. Maybe I wanted so badly for it to be him that I didn't think things through. And in my defence, who entertains the possibility that a stranger has entered their home to fulfill their deep, dark fantasies?

Gary and I have a surprisingly wonderful relationship, but we were never able to mesh well in the bedroom. For some reason or another, he was never that horny, and his lack of enthusiasm for the deed often led to lacklustre sex on a somewhat rare occasion. We were always able to make it work, but as I got older, I wanted more than what I was getting. I never entertained cheating on him to get what I wanted, though. I just accepted that it's the way it was – for better or worse. Having my afternoon alone time really helped me with my pent up sexual frustration, although I often crave the intimacy only he can offer just as much as I craved the sexually charged solo play.

He initiated things tonight, and I had to give him credit for putting forth the effort for my sake. And it's not like he doesn't enjoy it, I think he just finds it more effort than it's worth most of the time. Thank goodness I'm secure in our relationship – that one could be a tough pill to swallow if I didn't trust entirely that Gary loved me more than anything in the world. I have never felt undesirable or unwanted with him, and I truly believe he thinks the world of me.

Tonight helped somewhat to relieve my bottled up sexual tension, but it made it even more glaringly apparent that sex with Gary will always be dull and marginally fulfilling. And coming to this conclusion made me realize that, no matter how guilty I felt over what transpired this week, I would do it again in a heartbeat if my mystery master made another appearance. But chances are, he or she is long gone, and I will have to rely on my memories and myself to get what I truly need sexually.

I finished the laundry and finally fell into a restless slumber. Gary let me sleep in and I awoke late the next more, feeling anything but refreshed.

“Morning, Love!” Ugh. I have never been a morning person, but that doesn't stop Gary from being far too chipper.

“Hey,” I yawned sleepily.

“So what's on the agenda today?” he asked as I poured my coffee and stirred in some cream.

I came down to sit next to him. “Well, I’d love to go for a jog. We should also finish up the backyard work, and then I was thinking that it would be nice to hit the flea market uptown this afternoon.” I figured my best course of action was to keep busy.

“Sounds good, but I think I'm going to have to go into the office for a bit today. Maybe we can do yard work, then I can head in while you jog, and then we can hit the market before eating at L'Italienne for supper. Sound like a plan?”

Other than the few hours that I will be alone with my thoughts, yeah. “It sounds great. Let me fix myself an egg and I'll be outside shortly.”