We get punished by the fulfillment of our wishes.
It was about 11 pm when Greg stopped by. I gave him a hug feeling his fatigue through the ugly scrubs, hospital smells, and dispassionate demeanor.
– Emy left, it is over now.
– She will be back.
– We are divorcing Vixen.
– Get some rest
I heard him walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower.
I imagined him leaving Emy so many times, that it got old. First, I dreamed that he would be on his own, and we would spend more than 2 nights a week, then I was hopeful that he lived with her just for their kids, and they would divorce once the boys get older. Then I got jealous and helpless watching him go after our lunch quickies. It took me over 3 years to accept that he loves her, and they will always be together. I learned to be happy for him. And now he is telling me his marriage is over, and instead of going home, he is using my shower. He was violating my boundaries; it was annoying.
They were married for 15 years; 7 years of which Greg and I were together. Emy cleaned, cooked, raised the boys, and diligently took sleeping pills after family sex. “Benzos help her fall asleep, Vixen, she gets so anxious with the kids, and the bills”, – I kept nodding faking interest and compassion.
Having Greg in my life once or twice a week was magical. When he disappeared for a month or two, I felt down. Every time he came back, we fucked our brains out, which added emotional fireworks to our lives. I quietly smiled at his “you are saving my marriage, Vixen”. Somehow, he got from me what he was unable to get from Emy; and Emy kept giving him something I was unable to give. His work stressed him out all the time, Emy and I gave him a relief; our triangle seemed to work fine, just fine.
I heard his “Where is shampoo, luv” and went into the bathroom. Our shower sex was terribly uncomfortable, I was gripping the walls trying to maintain my balance in the slippery shampoo and soap.
I needed intimacy and privacy; Greg gave me both. He loved me with his hard cock: quietly and aggressively. It was perfect: no words and no drama.
I had trouble falling asleep that night. “It has always been Emy’s job to cope with his shitty attitudes, mood swings, and endless hookups during night shifts. I have fun, she has the rest. If she lives, I may end up doing the routine bullshit…” – the thought was even more awkward than our sex in the shower.
Greg texted me the next morning “no divorce, she is back, last night was amazing”. The wish to be with him 24/7 did not come true. I felt relieved and ready to make breakfast.