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, even when with Edward, I fretted some detail of concealment was overlooked that would lead to exposure. While our time together was truncated by our varied work shifts, time together remained extensive due to family. 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.
I also kept any place visited separate, to avoid experience overlap and also provided a tad of faithfulness for hubby. Distance when dining out with Edward aided exposure security. Hubby's only distant restaurants were Chinese ones in San Francisco which Edward knew nothing about.
Edward loved upscale restaurants. In Palo Alto, that included Rickey’s Inn and Restaurant, a vast local landmark. This is where hubby and I went for special occasions which nixed it for Edward. It was also too close and too popular with locals for exposure by someone I knew, so too dangerous.
When suggested by Edward, I’d replied I’d eaten there too often and needed to see new places.
Despite my stealth, after my confession, “We screwed! ”Hubby remained insecure, 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.
During the workweek, our interaction was a kiss as he left for work and a kiss when he returned home and I left for work. Conversations were hurried exchanges about the food I’d prepared, children’s school issues, house repairs and bills to be paid.
The best subterfuge was to keep the good and wanton wife roles simple and separate.
Workweek "nooner" trysts with Edward were easy to hide. Hubby was at work and their duration was short. A shopping explanation, to make myself look good for him, would cover if he called home. My hounding him to shop with me, which he didn’t like to do, made the shopping excuse a relief for him. He didn't have to go if he did ask where I was.
The best “nooner” cover, however, was a lack of suspicion due to the incongruity of "nooner" sex. With the morning sendoff of hubby and the kids to school, greeting the kids' return from school, cooking dinner before leaving for work 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 return, to cook dinner, and handle family life with a meal and a kiss to hubby as I scampered off to swing shift.
While it’s amazing what can happen in a couple of hours. Anything interesting which occurred was old news by the weekend and easy to remember, or not to remember. The only “nooner” difficulty was sleep deprivation.
Evening dates with Edward were fraught with danger, required stealth planning, and strong backup cover. When Edward’s one night a week off changed to Friday, I called in sick an hour before hubby got home. In front of him, I dressed for work, explained what was for dinner in the oven, kissed him goodbye, drove through the work security gate, waited fifteen minutes then left. I drove to the Bayshore Freeway, took a last-minute exit, meandered a bit aimlessly to affirm there was no one following and went to Edward’s.
To return home, I undressed, 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. With my husband, 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.
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, I twisted his condom use into marriage faithfulness in my mind. In this way, Edward was not “really” in me, only hubby. Later as AIDS vanquished the sexual revolution, it 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, was they reflected our affluent second income. They were undertaken to enhance his pleasure of having me as his wife.
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.
Author Notes: The wanton wife learns to keep lover and husband in separate worlds.