Darting between two men’s fluttering guppy tails assured my desirability. While empowering, shifting back and forth to reciprocate their attention was stressful. The anomaly of segregating my faithful wife persona from cheating adulteress caused exposure paranoia.
Hiding the good wife from Edward was easy. He knew I was married, wasn’t interested in my family life and only demanded devotion the brief times when with him. I obediently wore attire, cosmetics, and jewelry he selected as proof of my loyalty. Only my wedding ring vexed him.
Hubby’s betrayal was the arduous concealment. Unlike Edward, he couldn’t know there was another. Perpetually I fretted some detail of concealment was overlooked that would lead to exposure. While our time together was truncated by our varied work shifts, exposure potential time remained extensive due to family needs. When with hubby, only family was allowed into my mind and Edward was blocked as if a nonentity. Edward leaped into life only when we were together but was allowed to creep into swing shift musing.
To keep them segregated and avoid overlap mishaps, I internalized separate endearment tags for myself and them. I nixed Edward’s attempted naming me Sunshine, a term hubby occasionally used. He settled on Sweetie Pie. Hubby had his Sunshine but typically kept it short and referred to me as Hon. I used Honey for him and Sweetie for Edward.
On the bed, after sex, Edward asked, “Sweetie Pie, what’s your love box?
“Yeah, your vagina, she got a name?”
Edward wanted my vagina’s name which was Vixen but that was hubby’s. I needed an alternate name to avoid betraying hubby and to retain my separate life’s modus operandi. Knowing a few words in Tagalog from Mom I said, "She’s Puki.”
“Puki, eh, sounds sexy. Maybe a little too vulgar. Where’d that come from?”
"It’s Tagalog for vagina.”
“Hmmm... okay, Miss Puki, sounds better.”
Now christened, Miss Puki was Edward’s and Vixen hubby’s, a bit of faithfulness for both. I told neither my Cobra nickname.
Squirt was hubby’s penis, tagged when I first stroked him during our engagement and jumped back in awe as he spewed out. Edward's needed its own logo.
So, I replied, “Sweetie, what’d you name your penis?”
“What makes you think he’s got a name?”
“Just a guess.”
“Well, you’re right. Had to name him, cause he’s always telling me what to do. Did you see the Disney movie, Lady and the Tramp?”
“Movie, I thought it was a cartoon?”
“Yeah, it was but also a movie. You like it?”
“Well, when little, where are we going with this?"
“I liked Tramp, thought he was cool and debonair. Tramp didn’t sound quite right, so I made it Scamp, like a little devil. No Mr., just Scamp.”
I didn’t want his penis logo to be one that other women used or heard. I wanted one of my own.
“I don’t like it. Did you see the movie Camelot?”
“Musical, yeah, long time ago.”
"Well, your Scamp is now Sir Lancelot, okay?”
“Hey, I like it, better than Scamp; how about Lance for short?”
So, it was, it was Sir Lancelot or Lance for short. During sex, separated private tags helped avoid overlap slip-ups.
Despite my stealth, after my confession, “We screwed!” hubby remained suspicious and played detective. He would suddenly accuse me of seeing another, then seek hysterical bonding, which I agreed to. Due to time stress, he assumed, if there was someone else, it was someone at work. To encourage this dead-end suspicion, I told stories about engineers at work, then emphatically denied there was anyone else. To off-balance him I accused him of being irrationally jealous as if it was a flaw he needed to correct.
Workweek "nooner" trysts with Edward were easy to hide. Hubby was safely at work and their duration time was short. If he called or showed up at home, a shopping explanation would suffice for cover. My hounding him to shop with me, which he didn’t like to do, would make a shopping excuse a relief for him.
The best “nooner” cover, however, was a lack of suspicion due to the incongruity of "nooner" sex. With my swing shift hours, the early morning sendoff of hubby and the kids, greeting the kids' return from school, cooking dinner and my needed sleep negated affair suspicion. Ever circumspect, I first drove through the Stanford Mall parking lot then onto a quiet residential street to see if I was followed. Assured unfollowed, I scurried to Edward’s and returned in time for the kid’s school bus arrival. Whatever interesting happened in the couple of hours with Edward was old news by the weekend and easy to remember, or not to remember.
Edward evening dates in contrast were fraught with exposure danger. They required stealth planning, and strong backup cover. After Edward changed his one night a week off to Friday, I called in sick an hour before hubby got home. On his arrival, in my work clothes, I set dinner out, munched something down quick, kissed him goodbye and “left for work”. I drove through the security gate, waited fifteen minutes then left to see Edward. Ever paranoid, I took a last-minute Bayshore Freeway exit meandered a bit aimlessly to affirm there was no one following and freed went to Edward’s.
To return home, showered, air-dried my hair, dabbed on perfume to cover any Edward lingering scent, put back on work clothes and got home between 3 to 6 AM to an asleep husband. If he awoke and wanted me, I encouraged him. While doing so, I co-mingled his image with the security of our home and family and blocked out any thought of Edward.
The hard part was never mentioning anything associated with either guppy to the other. If something occurred with one, no matter how exciting, it could never be mentioned when with the other. With hubby, I concentrated on talking about the house, kids, neighbors, work and mutual friends. With Edward it was where we went, current events, movies and whatever book I was reading. If something too exciting occurred, to suppress, I twisted it into a girl at work story.
I also kept any hangout place with either separate to avoid unintended verbal overlap exposure and provide a tad of faithfulness to hubby.
Edward loved Palo alto’s Rickey’s Inn and Restaurant. That was where hubby and I went for special occasions which nixed it for Edward.
When suggested by Edward, I’d replied I’d eaten there too often and needed to see new places.
My biggest fear was pregnancy which would unravel my life. Having given birth twice, I could never have an abortion. While hubby had his vasectomy, Edward could get me pregnant. Once our affair developed, I told Edward I was going to take the pill. To my surprise, he said no, it would upset my hormone balance. He assured me he didn’t mind condoms.
I thought he might be wary of what I might contract from another. Over time, by mind rationalization, I twisted his condom use into marriage faithfulness. Only hubby spewed in me.
Later as AIDS vanquished the sexual revolution, condom use became a stroke of luck.
I suspected hubby’s hysterical bonding was his vicarious excitement of me as a hot-wife, part of his waylaid swinging agenda. He may have initially suggested swinging, not to have sex with other women but to have a hot-wife. He took a keen interest in the things Edward branded me with, all of which fed his suspicions there was someone else. My answer to his questions of where my attire, perfume, jewelry, and cosmetic changes originated, were they reflected our affluent second income.
He no longer took me for granted, was obsessed with the fear of losing me, paid attention exclusively to me and lost interest in pornography. To help him, I praised him, tried to please him, stroked his ego when I could and let him win arguments. I acted the perfect wife; one he could be proud of. His friends told him how lucky he was to be married to me. My best subterfuge was keeping the good and wanton wife roles separate.
Author Notes: The wanton wife learns to keep lover and husband in separate worlds.