Secret Lives of Cheating Wives

by Curtis Bunn

  “I’m taking a chance being out in public like this,” Stephanie said. “You live in L.A. You’re safe here. But I’m not.”

  “But you love the rush, being on the edge, don’t you?”

  Stephanie wanted to act offended, but she couldn’t help but smile.

  “I knew it,” Charles said.

  “You don’t know me. You only know my body.”

  “Well, I know you a little. I know your body a lot. But we still have to get better acquainted.”

  Stephanie shook her head in amusement.

  “But, seriously, if you see someone you know, give me a sign and I will play the role, move away, act like I’m a family friend, whatever I need to protect you.”

  Charles earned points with Stephanie for his willingness to deceive. She knew it was silly because she was cheating, but she felt protected with him, the way she wished she felt with her husband.

  “Thank you. And I believe you.”

  They made it through the line and onto the ferry to Sausalito without seeing anyone who knew them. The water was a little choppy, so Stephanie sat much of the twenty-five-minute ride across the Bay to the quaint town.

  She felt better the last ten minutes and joined Charles outside to soak up a gorgeous, partly cloudy day that offered flashes of sun, warm temperatures and picturesque clouds.

  “I don’t mean to talk about my husband, and especially to you, but this is crazy,” she started. “He has never, not once, taken me here, suggested we come. He never told me he even knew it existed.”

  “Let’s not worry about that. Actually, let’s count it as a blessing that we can be together now. I mean, if he had taken you here in the past, maybe you wouldn’t be here now. Or maybe you wouldn’t feel as you do now. We get to experience it together. We’re taking each other on a journey away from our home lives.”

  Stephanie pondered those words as Charles checked in at the front desk. He got the keys to their room overlooking the bay. He spared no expense, and Stephanie appreciated that he was willing to extend himself to help create the most comfortable environment for them.

  “This is beautiful,” she said, opening the drapes and looking out on the massive water that was highlighted by sailboats. “So beautiful. I’m almost sad.”

  “Sad? Why?”

  “Because I can’t stay. I have to leave at some point, and I really don’t want to. I’d love to spend the night here with you and enjoy the peace.”

  “Then stay.”

  Those three words convinced Stephanie to do that. But how? She was up to her earrings in lies as it was. What could she come up with that Willie would accept?

  “That’s easier said than done. I already said I’d be home tonight and he questioned me about that.”

  “I’m not putting any pressure on you.”

  “I know. I’m just saying. . . But maybe I will call my sister.”

  “The sister you said has been on your ass about us? The sister who obviously hates me? The sister who wants you to end it with me? That sister? Why would you call her?”

  “To cover for me. I already told him I’m with her today. I don’t need her to lie for me. I need her to not make herself available to my husband.”

  “She has a husband, right? Won’t he call him if he can’t reach either of you?”

  Stephanie’s shoulders dropped. “Yeah, he will. He wanted to call him today.”

  “So, it’s hard for me to say this, but don’t risk the drama. There will be other times. In fact, you should come to L.A. for a weekend.”

  “Let’s not talk about any of that right now. I want to enjoy all of this.”

  Charles nodded his head and pulled out a bottle of champagne, brie and crackers, two small plates and a knife. “This is perfect for a day like today,” he said.

  Stephanie set up the small table on the balcony and they enjoyed the snacks and bubbly, the view and each other, hardly saying a word for several minutes.

  “This peace right here, I love,” she said, looking out at the elements. “Gorgeous and relaxing.”

  “This is how life should be, really,” Charles said.

  “What are we going to do? I’m not trying to get heavy, but we’re having these wonderful experiences together, but you have someone at home and I have someone at home. I think all the time now: Am I brave enough to leave?”

  “Do you really want to leave? I’m trying to be pragmatic or play the devil’s advocate. Do you want to leave? Are you ready to leave?”

  “I don’t know—but I think about it. A lot of it would depend on you.”

  “Me?”

  “If you are strong enough to leave, I can be strong enough.”

  Charles was not ready to hear that from Stephanie. He poured more champagne in both glasses and took a sip of his.

  “You’re right: We’d have to be strong to leave,” he finally said. “Do we have that strength? Should we walk? It’s not cut and dried.”

  “It may not be, but, when all the bullshit is washed away Charles, it’s only me and you left. That’s how I see it.”

  “I see it differently. I see my wife and your husband and agony. I see us hurting people we actually love and have built a life with. That’s not something I want to envision.”

  “You think I want that? You think I don’t have a heart, that I don’t love my husband? I do. But, at the same time, I’m in a place now where I should be living. My daughter is gone and making her way. She’s happy. Willie is happy, apparently. Everyone’s happy but me. I want more. But you’re saying I should stay so I won’t hurt other people’s feelings?”

  “That’s not a small thing, Stephanie. Think about your daughter. I know she’s a young lady and doing things. But her parents are her rock. Her parents together. A divorce can be harder on older children than younger. You don’t want to do that to her.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re skirting the issue. I’ve heard you speak, remember? You’re good at being passive-aggressive and—”

  “What? Passive-aggressive?”

  “Yes. You address stuff without taking it head-on. You’re trying that with me right now.”

  “I’m trying to stay patient here. Tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re giving me all the reasons to stay, but no reasons to leave. You’re not saying what you really want to say.”

  “Which is what, since you know how my brain works?”

  “You don’t want me to leave because you want to stay.”

  Charles finished off his champagne and took a deep breath.

  “You’re right, Stephanie. You’re right. You’re right because I don’t have a reason to leave. And I have said you shouldn’t leave because you don’t have one, either. Listen, what we’re creating, it’s great. I look forward to seeing you and sharing thoughts on what’s going on in the world, with public education, you name it. I enjoy our passion. A lot.

  “But we’re just getting started at this. Do we turn our worlds—and our spouses’ worlds—upside down when we don’t know what this will turn into? I say we don’t. I say we continue to spend time together when we can, communicate every day as we have, and build on this. But to talk about it now, after less than two months, that’s too fast.

  “Think about it this way: If we both were single, would we be talking about moving in together or getting married? After two months?”

  “People do it all the time after less time than that.”

  “So, you’re telling me you’re ready to leave your husband to be with me?”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  “See, it would be stronger if you said you were ready to leave for a better life, for peace, to regain your sense of self. Almost anything would be better than leaving for me . . . or any man. I’m flattered that you feel so strongly about me. But I’m a little sad that you aren’t looking for more. You can’t look for a man to solve your problems or to save you from your life.”

  Charles’ logic embarrassed Stephanie, who was s
mart and rational on most days. But her emotions ruled.

  “You’ve got me all twisted up,” she said. Charles looked at her and she smiled.

  “You’re right. I’m getting carried away.” She took a deep breath and recalibrated her emotions and expectations. “See, this is why I like you so much. You give me the balanced, honest view. I need that sometimes, especially when emotions are involved.”

  “Here,” he said, pouring more champagne and then raising his glass. “Let’s have a toast and then take a nap.”

  “Oh, yeah. A nap sounds great,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt. “All of a sudden I’m getting so sleepy.”

  Charles feigned a big yawn. “Me, too.”

  They then took a final gulp of the bubbly and went inside to the room, taking off their clothes in the process.

  “All that talk made me horny,” Stephanie said.

  “Don’t even try it—you were horny when you woke up.”

  “That’s true. See, you’re getting to know me.”

  They kissed and helped each other finish undressing. They did not bother to pull back the sheets. Stephanie lay on her back and Charles ravaged her body with kisses and passion. And when they were done, about a half-hour later, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, a deep sleep that took them far from their real lives.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CLOSING IN

  JUANITA

  Maurice grew increasingly concerned about Juanita’s behavior. She kept her cell phone closer to her and regularly used it for texting purposes. She seldom was available during the day when he called her at work. And she had stopped taking the occasional ride into the office with her husband.

  He had a golf trip scheduled for a weekend at Pinehurst in North Carolina, but was reluctant to go. He was suspicious of his wife’s fidelity, and it left him feeling sick to his stomach.

  He was not sure how to deal with his turmoil. If he addressed it with Juanita and was wrong, she would be aghast. If he were right, he’d be crestfallen. Either option made him more convinced to say nothing and to observe more closely than ever.

  It ate him up that he had no one to share his uncertainty. His family adored Juanita and would think he was paranoid. . . or worse. Her family praised her existence in every way. He could not tell his friends—it would be humiliating to tell them he thought his wife was cheating on him.

  Finally, though, after three vodka and tonics and two beers, he woke up Juanita one Saturday night. He surmised that the element of surprise would catch her off guard and reveal something. He could not go on any longer feeling so uneasy.

  “You sleep?” he said as he shook her out of her slumber.

  “Huh? What’s wrong?”

  She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

  “Are you cheating on me?”

  Juanita was prepared for that question. She had rehearsed her answer to the inevitable question more than a dozen times.

  “Yes,” she said. “I have two boyfriends. I see one as you’re eating dinner that I cooked after I leave work and come straight home. The other one I see in the church basement, during Sunday School.”

  Maurice did not expect that answer. He expected her to be outraged at the accusation.

  “Now can I go back to sleep? I’m meeting my boyfriend at the playground with the kids tomorrow. I need my rest.”

  She plopped her head back down on her pillow and turned her back to Maurice, who felt so silly that he got up and left the bedroom.

  Juanita lay there with her heart pumping. She expected him to question her at some point, but the reality of it frightened her. She also knew that the questioning was not over. Maurice, when sober, would explain his question.

  She decided then to take the lead, to bring up the subject in the morning, to put Maurice on the defensive. She thought of many ways to protect her secret. She did not consider leaving Brandon alone.

  So after breakfast, she got the kids settled in their room in front of their Xbox, and addressed her husband.

  “Can you explain why you insulted me last night?” Juanita asked. She felt like an actress. “I mean, really Maurice.”

  “Well, first off, I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I was trying to get some answers.”

  “You question my faithfulness?”

  “I don’t. I had questions because you don’t seem to be yourself. I call you at work and you’re never available. Even after our last session with Dr. Fields, I tried to surprise you by taking you to lunch, but when I went to your office, you weren’t there. And no one knew where you were.”

  Juanita’s heart rate climbed and her mind raced. “I went and got a massage that day, in Bethesda,” she said. “I called in after the session and my meeting was cancelled, so I tried to get some tension relieved with a massage. Does that make you think I’m cheating on you?”

  “I didn’t know where you were. And then there’s this talk with the doctor about sex. It makes me feel like you’re not satisfied.”

  “And I’m the type who would go and get satisfied somewhere else? Maurice, I’m so insulted. We have a family. I’ve lived my life doing the right thing. And that’s what you think of me?”

  “Baby, I’m sorry. I want you and us to be happy. When things aren’t right, my mind goes crazy places. Please forgive me. I won’t do any of this again.”

  “Any of what?”

  Maurice looked away briefly and took a deep breath. “I won’t accuse you anymore and I won’t go through your things.”

  “What things? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m only admitting this because I want you to know how concerned I was. . . I looked through your cell phone.”

  “You what?”

  “I was trying to figure some things out. And. . . I’m sorry.”

  Juanita walked to the kids’ room, checked on them and closed the door. Then she stormed back to Maurice, who was in the family room.

  “That’s unacceptable, Maurice. You have no right to go through my phone, through my anything. What’s wrong with you? That’s a violation I cannot accept. Keep your fucking hands off my phone.”

  It was rare that Juanita used profanity. In fact, Maurice had not heard her curse since before they got married, when she was upset over a grade she’d received in business school.

  “I’m sorry. I was panicked and I. . . I just did it.”

  “I don’t have a lock on my phone because I don’t have anything to hide. At the same time, it’s my phone. I don’t go through your things, Maurice. Never have. You’re entitled to your own space and what’s yours is yours. I’m so angry right now. Shit.”

  “I sincerely apologize, ’Nita. I do. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Juanita was mad, but she put extra on it to make her point. She realized that if she had not deleted her exchanges to and from Brandon, there would have been chaos and her family would be in jeopardy.

  “I hope you found something that made you feel better.”

  “I found nothing, and that made me feel better. Well, there was this one phone number I didn’t recognize. You called it a couple of times.”

  “And you want me to answer questions about numbers I dialed from my phone? Are you serious?”

  “No, I don’t. I already called the number.” Juanita held her breath. “It was the massage place you said you went to.”

  “Maurice, do not go through my things again. I can’t believe you.”

  She was relieved. And to avoid showing it, she turned her back to her husband and left him standing there, feeling foolish. And while he felt somewhat embarrassed in exposing himself, Maurice also was relieved. He had successfully investigated if Juanita had any questions about his infidelity. By raising his questions, he knew she would raise hers as a counter if she had any. She did not do that, so the cheating Maurice was engaged in was not under scrutiny.

  Months before Juanita called Brandon, Maurice had met Gloria Wright, a Capitol Hill attorney who was
walking to the parking lot toward her car as Maurice headed the same way. He’d offered to help her with a box she carried; she was moving from one job to another.

  He’d asked her if she had celebrated the new job, and she told him that her closest friend who would normally celebrate with her was out of town. Gloria also had shared that she was going through a divorce and was not in a celebratory mood anyway. But Maurice had offered to treat her to a cocktail, and she had accepted.

  After two drinks, they’d moved from the bar to a small booth and had wound up kissing and groping each other. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he’d said to her.

  “Why? Because you’re married?”

  “No. Well, yes, that too. But because you’re beautiful. I didn’t expect this.”

  “I didn’t, either. We kind of hit it off, I guess. But I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disrespect your marriage.”

  “By all means, disrespect it,” he’d said, laughing. “I’m not going to lie to you: I love my wife. But you’re like . . . not even a breath of fresh air. You’re a tsunami of fresh air.”

  Gloria had laughed and blushed at the same time. “Well, I’d like to see you again, if you’d like that,” she’d said.

  “I sure would.”

  So, every other Saturday, when he dressed for golf, Maurice would take a trip to Annapolis with Gloria. Or he’d go to her Capitol Hill home and they’d make each other cocktails, cook together and make love. The sex did not happen until his third visit, but once they got started, it was a consistent part of their relationship.

  Often, since she lived so close to where they worked, they would rendezvous at her house for lunch. They’d eat whatever leftovers she had made for dinner the previous night and then delight on each other. And then go back to work, thoroughly satisfied.

  Maurice was almost overwhelmed with the situation. “Please don’t think I’m crazy to ask this—and if it’s the wrong question that might mess up what we have, please ignore it—but why would you be interested in me? I’m not that handsome. I’m married with two kids. I’m comfortable but not rich. What’s the deal?”

  “You’re a gentleman. You were a gentleman to me when I needed a gentleman in my life. That allowed me to look at you and eventually to open up to you. Let’s face it: My life isn’t the greatest right now. I left my job because one of the partners wanted sex with me—and didn’t even have the decency to offer me a promotion. I wouldn’t have had sex with him under any circumstances, but he thought I should want to sleep with him or would sleep with him because of his position. So I finally took a job making less, but I’m not in fear of getting raped at any moment.