He thought about it. Sometimes. Contemplated it. Not constantly or even frequently, really. Just occasionally. Enough, really. Things didn't even have to terrible at home for him to do so. It was just part of life, he'd always figured. Thoughts were thoughts and actions were actions and he always kept the two very separate.
Well, other than that once.
Only once in the entirety of his over decade of marriage had he ever truly, honestly, though about…
It wasn't a pleasurable time, to say the least, when that happened. Or didn't happen. Because, honestly, nothing at all had happened other than him getting a bit fed up with things and deciding, for a very short period of time, that maybe he could entertain the idea of…
He felt like he was thinking in circles. But that was kind of how these sort of things sprout up with him. IN circles. He thinks about it, really thinks about it, realizes how fucked up it is to even contemplate, locks it away and ignores it, then repeat. He wasn't sure how normal it was (though he banked on very), but knew as long as he kept thoughts to himself then there was no harm, no foul at play.
It would just be so easy.
That was always the first thing that hit him, when he thought about it. Well, other than the self-gratification that went along with it. It was true, anyways. It would be far too easy for him to do- To cheat. that's what he was thinking about. There. It felt much better to just think it in full rather than halfway hide from himself exactly what he was thinking about.
He was thinking about sleeping with someone other than Steph.
Bleh.
When put so blatantly, it sounded terrible and ridiculous, really.
Didn't make it any less true though.
Because he did travel. Constantly. All over the place. Sometimes with her, fine, but not always. And even when she was around, she wasn't really. Because they were both very occupied with their own sides of their all encompassing business. His schedule was packed, fine, usually, when they were away from home, but he could find time to do something. Or at least someone.
At least he figured. Thought. He'd never actually gotten that far, really. The last person he picked up literally was Stephanie and that was almost twenty years ago. And that was all script until somehow it wasn't.
It couldn't be that hard though.
Could it? Felt like the other guys were always falling into shit when they were overseas. He'd have to be a lot more discreet, obviously, but if he could just get away...
And then Florida.
Oh, Florida.
That would be the most obvious choice. He spent a good chunk of time down there. He didn't know how easy it could be to find someone, one time there, but he figured that if he were anyone else, literally anyone, that would probably be where he started his affair.
Logistically, it wouldn't be difficult. He usually spent at least a day and a half down there, flying back late after tapings. If he cut those out and stayed somewhere else… And Steph wouldn't bitch at him about it, really. All he had to do was say that he was too tired. She was always on him about not sleeping enough. She'd probably support it, maybe.
And he could definitely meet someone there. Maybe. He was pretty sure. Not anyone he worked with, obviously, because that would just be messy and kind of gross and oh, wow, actually, he could probably pull this off if he managed to get someone who understood his situation. Who he didn't have to worry about...well…
That was another complication. With ever cheating on Stephanie. It always had been. Getting with Stephanie had fucked over his career in the same amount it had cemented it. Ending things, at any point with her, amicably might not have completely bombed it, but getting caught in messy cheating shit…
It would actually be interesting, now that he was so invested and tangled up in the business. What could Stephanie really do to him? Nothing, he was nearly certain. But he'd certainly tear the business apart. Or she would, if she let on. He often wondered what she'd do if he ever...and she found out.
Cry. Probably. A lot. He hated when she did that. No matter how mad he was at her, he hated when she got so upset. Especially if he was the one causing it. He'd never be the one to cause something like that. He couldn't allow himself to be.
But if he was discreet…
Affairs felt like a lot of work, really, and he wasn't too sure of the actual pay off. Well, he knew the technical pay off, sexually and all that, but the rest of it… He gave a lot to Stephanie, honestly, still, on an emotional level and he didn't think that he could keep that up while also giving it to someone else. And then the stress. The awful stress. On top of the high amount he already balanced for work. And then there was the lying. He was good at lying. He was great at it. But he'd never so blatantly done so to Stephanie. Not since they were married, at least. It felt like she'd see right through it.
And then the tears…
No. It would just be better, if he was going to do it, to, you know, not be so attached and just a one off thing.
But what if he couldn't do that? Anymore? It wasn't an issue when he thought he was hot shit when he was young and invisible and all that, but now…
He could definitely sleep with someone else. That wasn't an issue. Wouldn't be the issue. He was almost certain of that. It was just sex. That's all. Nothing too big. If he was just far enough from home…
It'd been so long though, since he was someone else. Anyone else. Nearly two decades, really. Soon. Other than Steph. It would probably be exhilerating and exciting and a reminder of some things he'd forgotten. But also never wracking and wow, the guilt he'd probably feel after, he knew it would come, and how could he happily sing Steph's praises to his kids when they were mad at her if, when he was mad at her, he went and did the biggest betrayal of all?
Why did he feel so slimy and sweaty palmed just from the thought?
Maybe because it was one of those late nights, as he flew back into Connecticut without Steph, where he could have gone anywhere from the plane. Anywhere. Done anything. Anything.
He didn't. Of course. He went home the second he landed.
But he could have.
Maybe it was the power of choice that made it such a visceral reaction. He had the power to completely change his life. In one moment. In many moments, over the years. He went out, obviously, without Steph at times. He did work with other guys. Guys who went out. He wasn't just some stick in the mud. There were women, he knew, that would have no problem with…
But he had a problem with it.
Right?
The house was dead when he got to it, as it should be. His youngest dog didn't even wake up to bark at him. His other one did. Andre. But only because he wanted the man to give him a treat before retreating back to his cage, where he liked to sleep the past few weeks. It used to be in one of the girl's bedrooms, but he'd recently developed a hankering to rip up toys and such while they slept which got him expelled.
"Women," Paul had griped along with Andre that first night he got banished to, well, in Steph's mind, his and her bedroom, but he quickly put a halt to that idea. "Don't appreciate nothing, buddy."
That felt true a lot of the time, whether it was or not. As he slipped into his own bed that night, with is wife, Paul felt this exactly as, immediately, he took to nuzzling his head against her shoulder. When he tired to press a kiss there though, he only got shoved away.
"No," was what she muttered sleepily. "Not tonight."
And that was just bullshit, for some reason, to him, and he huffed a bit as he fell back into his side of the bed. He was too wired for sleep, yet too tired for much else. Other than that. That had been the key to wiring him down.
But no. Because Stephanie didn't want to. He hadn't even done anything, really, but try and kiss her. Only to be rejected.
Of course, she was sleeping, so that made sense. And he wasn't entitled to anything. Also made sense.
Still, with all the things he was thinking about that night, it felt like a cruel punishment for some reason.
He could have stayed in Florida. Or been anywhere, really. He liked to think of himself as being smooth enough to transcend languages, even. His love. But not really love. Love in the moment, maybe. Loving. Yes. That was it.
They'd probably go back to a hotel room. To be alone. He'd be sober, because he was always sober, and that would make it better somehow because he'd know what he was doing. He couldn't blame it on other things then. After it was over. When he started feeling-
Bleh.
Why was he even thinking of that? He didn't have to think about that.
So he decided not to.
He bet her skin would be soft. Tight. Nice. She'd smell night. And he'd gotten in such better shape in the past few years. He'd always been in fine shape, but recently, Steph really seemed to think-
But it didn't matter what Steph thought.
See, this was the problem. Because he could think about fucking other women. Could fantasize about it. Just in simple ways. When he started to get too descriptive, started to really plot it all out, things got all tangled and he ended up fucking up his own fantasy more than anything.
So he should just keep it basic. Just think about the more base things. Like...like…
He wondered what it would feel like" When another woman ran her hand along his head now. Now that he was mostly bald. Different than Steph, he thought. Yeah. But how?
Too descriptive.
He had to think about other things.
Like…
What would it be like, anyways, now? To kiss someone else. Really kiss someone else. After all these years. Probably kind of awkward. He was so used to how he and Steph-
Basic. Basic. Like how much he liked...just the feeling of a woman. Any woman. When they breathed on his skin. That was hot. The idea of it. Breath. HE liked the feeling of another's breath. It felt so intimate and…
Fuck.
Fuck.
He had to calm himself down. Just enough to sleep. But he was in a weird state where he was kind of working himself up, maybe, but also seemed to be doing nothing than torturing himself. It was just hard when Steph was right there, next to him, sleeping.
Just as he was about to rise though, go into the bathroom, shower or something, anything, just to get away again for a few minutes, that his wife finally seemed to wake up some. Truly wake up. With a slight sigh, she didn't open her eyes at all. Only shifted closer to him.
"Missed you," she yawned some even though they'd only just seen one another, before he'd gone to Florida. But it was true. He didn't doubt him. She probably did miss him. "Sweetheart."
And he smiled at her, even though she didn't see, as Stephanie pressed a hand to his chest and rested her head over his heart. Mmmm.
It felt so much better. He already knew that. Being with Stephanie did. No contest. He hadn't played or ventured out, but he was certain of it. They weren't even doing anything, in that moment, but he felt himself relaxing some as he only let out a long sigh of his own.
He couldn't lay in bed with another woman. Ever. Not again. It wouldn't feel right. Something about the exact weight that Steph applied and her breath was more than just intimate. Her leg bumped his then, beneath their sheets and he felt bad for even thinking things that weren't even that bad, were they, really?
No.
Steph probably even thought about those sorts of things too, sometimes.
For some reason, though thought made him open his eyes that had finally been drifting shut. Glancing down at where the woman rested her head, he frowned some and began to wrap her up then, in his arms. Tightly. This disturbed Stephanie some and she complained, but he didn't wanna let go. Not yet.
What if Stephanie did think those things? What if she had her moment too? Already? Or soon? Her almost. Like he had? She traveled often too. Not as much as him, it felt like, but her trips were usually around more unfamiliar people than his were.
People that wouldn't be 'messy'.
He wasn't stupid, of course. Or immature. He was almost fifty. She was over forty. They'd been together far too long, really, in a certain sense. He'd gotten all of his, uh, wildness out before marriage, having been into his thirties. But Steph was so younger than him. Had she not gotten all out?
She had to have fantasies too. And he was fine with those. Those were fine. Just like his were fine. He didn't wanna hear about hers (gross), but he knew that she probably felt the same.
But the idea that she carefully considered her ability to...to cheat. Like he had just been doing. Like he did sometimes. Not often. Nowhere close. But the idea that she did at all was...uncomfortable to him.
It made him feel inadequate, just the idea. He didn't even know how closely she'd ever thought about it, but already, he was forming insecurities over it. He should have never cut his hair. Obviously. She was into that. And he shaved it all of. She'd definitely go for someone with great hair. High attraction. He wasn't as slim as he used to be. He was always a bulky type of muscular, but people were super into that slim short of muscular now. It was all they pushed up at-
Work.
Was she attracted to men at work?
Well, duh, but did she think about…
He didn't want Steph doing that. Doing anything, really. Other than what she was doing at the moment, which was stroke at his chest as she drifted off again.
Would he cry, he wondered, if Steph ever…
Well, he'd be angry, at first, but cry? Maybe.
What if Steph left him? For someone else? Or at all? Ever? Not because he'd cheated or whatever, but just because she didn't want him anymore? The thought was terrifying to the man. Stephanie always acted like she wanted him. Always. And loved him. Needed him.
But what if she was getting restless and tired and man, why did he ever cut hi hair?
He was really hung up on that one.
They didn't have it, he hoped she knew. He knew she knew. The amount of deep connections the two of them had together. It's one of the things that always kept him faithful. Moments like the one they were in right then. Just laying in bed together, not saying anything. Not doing anything. Just relaxing. Well, she was relaxing. His heart felt like it was racing. He wondered if she could feel it beating beneath her head.
He let out a strong breath that time, through his nose, and finally, Stephanie opened her eyes, tilting her head back to frown up at the man.
"Hey, baby," she whispered as they only stared at one another. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, but he felt like it came out wrong.
Stephanie only smiled at him tiredly though before leaning up to press a kiss against his cheek, her lips no doubt getting scratched a bit by his beard. Against it, she muttered, "Go to sleep then. Paul. WE gotta get up soon."
She tried to slink away again, off to her side of the bed, but he wouldn't let her. And, relenting, she settled out in his arms while he only watched, silent in the dark, his mind not so willing to drift away from the woman anymore.
It was right. Before. His mind was. There was no way that anyone else could ever come close to this. Come between the two of them. Like how her hand felt, on him, before. Another woman could do that, fine, but that hand could only belong to his wife. Only did belong to his wife. Only felt right when belonging to his wife. Any other wouldn't carry the same weight behind it. Even Steph's back when they were young didn't carry the same weight that it did now.
He remembered her fingers swelling, when she got pregnant, and being unable to wear her wedding ring. He remembered all the nights, when she was pregnant, laying his hand over hers over her stomach, knowing that their baby was in there and safe. He remembered stroking her hand, at their wedding, as they were being married. He didn't quite remember, but he knew that he had to have held her hand at least a billion times over the years and he knew exactly how it felt when she drug him along, at Christmas time, when she'd make him go to the mall with her to pick out toys and gifts and things even though he hated it because they could do that online now (she was great at online shopping…) and he hated getting recognized out like that, it was annoying, and he was busy, but she always tugged him along. Or she used to. They hadn't done that in a few years.
Why did they stop doing that?
He liked when Stephanie dragged him places. Literally. It was absurd to think that the woman could even move him an inch if he refused to budge, but somehow, she moved him miles. With the lightest of tugs.
He hoped she thought of things like that, when she was finished thinking about how things could be different, if she just wasn't so dang loyal. Which he chose to believe she was. A curse he also found himself to be afflicted with. But only when it came to her. Always her.
Paul let her go eventually, as he finally found it. The sleep he wanted. It never worked out well, trying to sleep all tangled up in these days (they both just felt more comfortable on their own sides of the bed and got much better sleep that way) and as he released her, Steph only muttered something that sounded like love to him as she curled up with her back to him, already gone, it felt like.
He hoped she didn't remember in the morning how he woke her up. Then she'd wanna talk to him, make sure he was okay. He'd just tell her that he missed her, was all. And that wasn't too far from the truth.
Turning, he buried his head in his pillow and breathed deeply, all the thoughts vanquished. It was good. To fall asleep in your own bed.
Nothing felt better.
Nothing.