A few adventures definitely wouldn’t go amiss.
As I make my way home a few hours later, arms loaded with presents and artwork from Annabel, I feel awash with contentment and fuzzy from the wine.
I spent my birthday playing pass the parcel and pin the horn on the unicorn, which might not be everyone’s idea of a party, but I’m coming home with a smile on my face. Annabel was chief party planner and even made party bags for us all. Mine has a sticker book and some colouring pencils in it, along with a little orange ball that’s weirdly satisfying to squish.
I suspect I’ll be on a sugar high for the rest of the week based on the amount of birthday cake I’ve eaten. And the two bottles of wine that Chloe, Josh, and I polished off.
I’d been planning to stay over tonight but I’ve got a busy week coming up at work, so I said my goodbyes after supper. The jaunt back from suburbia has sobered me up a bit and I’m looking forward to climbing into bed with my book when I get in.
I’m almost back when I spot Colin’s car in the driveway. It’s a big white BMW, a tad ostentatious for my taste. Colin must bethe only man left in London who drives himself into the office every day.
I’m amazed he’s home early and get a flutter of excitement – maybe he’s planned a surprise for me after all?
He’s not really into birthdays but perhaps he’s made an exception this year. Maybe it will be the spark that ignites some passion back into our marriage. We’ve been running on autopilot so long I barely remember the last time we properly connected. Colin’s hardly a romantic but there was a time when we couldn’t get enough of each other.
Some hot birthday sex could be just what we need. God knows it’s been a while.
I open the door and drop my bags and gifts on the kitchen table, looking around for signs of him. His shoes aren’t in the shoe rack and the house is weirdly quiet. The living room is empty too, though there’s an open bottle of red on the coffee table. Curious. I picture him waiting for me with a glass of red in hand, running me a bubble bath and sigh at the thought.
It would be so nice to feel looked after for a night.
I open the fridge out of habit. We desperately need to do a grocery shop. Colin doesn’t cook and if he had his way, he’d only eat protein-filled ready meals from some bougie website for sporty people. I’m much more interested in cooking from scratch – give me a rich carbonara over a grilled chicken and rice bowl any day.
Failing to find inspiration in the fridge, I decide to look for Colin.
I kick off my shoes and pad up the stairs. Normally I’d call out to say I’m back but something tells me to keep quiet.
If he’s planned a surprise then it will be way more fun to sneak up on him. And if he’s not, I can throw myself into bed with my favourite vibrator.
I hear a few muffled noises and deduce that he is in fact home. I can hear my own heart beating as I get to the landing. What’s he got planned? The thrill of walking in on my own surprise sends butterflies careening around my stomach. I’m suddenly excited to see my husband for the first time in ages.
Who needs a big birthday gift? I’d be thrilled with just an orgasm that wasn’t delivered by yours truly at this point.
I’m nearly at our bedroom door when I hear a muffled thump. I pause, cocking my head as I try and work out what I just heard. Then I hear a breathy gasp and a loud moan. My heart stops in my chest. There’s another gasp and a muffled groan, followed by a loud slap and a squeal.
I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing.
He is in our room.
He isn’t alone.
A buzzing sound fills my ears as I push open our bedroom door.
The scene before me is so cliched, I actually laugh out loud. Colin, my husband of 10 years, is buried balls-deep in a redhead I’ve met a few times before. He’s fucking her from behind so he sees me instantly and freezes, mouth open, as I stand there staring. The redhead squeals and tries to cover herself with my goddamn pyjamas, which are next to the pillow she’s had her face pressed into.Mypillow.
Well, at least I was right about one thing.
Hehassurprised me with birthday sex. It’s just not with me.
“Em! What are you doing here?!” he yells, pulling his cock out of Stacey, whose name has just come back to me.
Stacey is a junior on his team at work. She’s probably about 23 and has mermaid hair, always tousled in soft ringlets. She’s got a smattering of freckles across her nose and honestly, I get the appeal, because she looks like a slutty Disney princess. She squeaks and pulls the whole duvet over herself as Colin grabshis boxers from the floor and yanks them on. I can still hear her whimpering from under the covers.
Come on Stacey, have some self-respect.
“Are you kidding me?! It’s my fucking birthday and you’re screwing someone else in our bed?!”
I’m not even shouting as he strides over to me, face like thunder. I can feel my heart cracking, the feeling of betrayal splintering through my body like broken glass. I might be sick.
