Page 30 of The Affair
And also unlike before, this time Jared made love to her so slowly. He would not let her come. He teased her, tormented her, brought her close, then withdrew until she begged him. She thought she would literally die from pleasure. He was always in control and she found, to her surprise, that she liked it, enjoyed the agonizing way he was playing with her senses, caressing her body so that all her nerve endings were on fire. In the end she was gasping, half-conscious, the ripplingsurge through her body like nothing she had ever experienced before.
Afterwards he lay beside her in the darkness. The air in the room seemed to swirl and vibrate with their lovemaking. Her body tingled all over, her skin glowing from his touch. She closed her eyes, a wash of pleasure floating, like a fragrance, around her head. She felt his hand reach for hers and held it lazily, too dazed to move.
Jared had appeared out of nowhere, as always. Connie had spent the afternoon strolling past the colourful buildings and famous churches along the impressive Royal Way – sometimes referred to as ‘the Champs-Élysées of Poland’. She was with some of the group, poking into small shops and stopping for coffee and delicious pastries. It was hot again, the June sun a welcome relief from the previous two days of rain.
She had come out of a trinket shop, Audrey from Wisconsin hanging on her arm and bending her ear about her grandson’s extensive collection of snow-globes. Sitting at an outside table in the café next door, sipping iced tea from a tall glass, Ray-Bans and hair glinting in the sun, was Jared. He looked up as Connie and Audrey passed, raising his eyebrows just a touch in greeting. Connie jolted, held her breath, but was unable to stop a small smile in return. Audrey waffled on, oblivious.Tonight, she’d thought, her heart banging like a gong she thought the whole of the boulevard must hear.
For the rest of the day, Connie had fretted: sheknew they would make love again – just the thought of it made her stomach flip, her heartbeat thump out of rhythm. But without the blind, almost furtive haste of that Kraków night and the cover of the duvet, she was suddenly conscious of her age, her breasts, her belly, the not-so-firm skin of a woman over sixty. Jared was still young – younger than her by ten years, anyway. Dressed, she passed muster, perhaps, but it was a whole different thing to strip off in front of a man she barely knew. In her mind’s eye she ran through her underwear: bog-standard M&S, nothing frilly or even remotely enticing enough. How could he possibly still want her, her body revealed in all its nakedness?
But, in the end, nothing mattered. He had walked through the door – having texted first from the lobby this time – and that had been that. She forgot about her shortcomings. There was no self-consciousness between them, only desire.
Now she heard him turn and rolled to face him. His fingers brushed a strand of hair back, tucking it behind her ear. She took his hand and cupped it to her cheek. Then she said softly, ‘You made me laugh today, sitting like a spy at that café table, with your shades and your newspaper.’
‘It was in Polish,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I couldn’t read a word.’
They fell silent.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow … Well, it’s today now.’Her words sounded loud in the quiet room. They went unanswered: Jared was asleep.
Connie watched through half-open lids as Jared hauled his naked body from the bed. He was tanned and lean, the muscles of his back well defined. She had no recollection of falling asleep, but she must have done, because the summer light was poking through the blinds at the hotel window. The last thing she remembered was the feel of his breath, soft on her cheek.
He did not speak or look at her as he pulled on his jeans and buttoned his blue shirt, brushing his long hair back from his face with both hands as he padded to the bathroom. She heard him splashing in the sink but lay there, her body still tender and sensitive, in a blur of remembered pleasure.
12
Connie realized with a shock, as the Eurostar slid out of the tunnel on the English side, that she had barely thought about Devan in the days she’d been away. Now she felt the first stirrings of panic at the prospect of seeing her husband. He was the last person on the planet she felt able to face. He knew her like the back of his hand. Surely, surely, this time he must read something in her eyes.
Because she had changed. From being an unthinkingly faithful wife, she had morphed into a person who would willingly open her body to another man, lie naked with him, press her mouth to his in lust, and dream of him during her waking moments. Not just once, either. How could that not show in her eyes, in the way she spoke and breathed, even in the hue of her skin? She cringed at the thought.
Her next tour was in two weeks – five nights in the Scottish Highlands. Between now and then she needed somehow to remove herself firmly from Jared’s orbit and slot back into real life. Although her mind still burned with the possibility of seeing him again.Will he come to Scotland?It didn’t seem to matter to her brain that she despised herself for these perfidious thoughts. It ran on regardless, almost minute by minute,replaying those moments with Jared until she knew every one by heart.
The house was silent when Connie got home around three: no dog, no husband. Devan hadn’t answered her call about picking her up from the station – she’d had to take a taxi – or any of her subsequent texts asking where he was. She wasn’t even sure she’d told him when she was getting back, their communication having ground almost to a halt. Not that she minded his absence. It just put off the evil moment, gave her time to unpack and settle in, wash off the journey – and, hopefully, Jared – before she had to face him.
When she finally heard the front door open early in the evening, and the scuffing of Riley’s paws on the wood floor, she was showered and as composed as was possible in the circumstances. She steeled herself for the blank indifference that seemed currently to be Devan’s default position, her body tense as she put aside the local paper – merely a prop, her thoughts had been drifting elsewhere all afternoon – and took a sip from the mug of mint tea, long since gone cold.
Devan’s face appeared round the kitchen door. Even with all that had happened, Connie felt a momentary pleasure at the familiarity of his handsome face. But his expression as he said a soft ‘Hi,’ was hard to read. She eyed him cautiously as he came into the room and took a seat opposite her.
‘Sorry I missed the pick-up. Only just got your messages,’ he said.
Connie bent to greet Riley, burying her face in his furry brown neck and fighting off his eager tongue with a laugh. It gave her a moment to catch her breath. ‘Didn’t matter, I got a taxi OK.’
When she straightened up, Devan was gazing at her. ‘Can we talk?’ he said.
It was a strange question for a husband to ask a wife, and Connie felt a frisson of alarm.Is he going to say he doesn’t love me any more?Her heart was pounding. He seemed so serious, his hands on the table fiddling nervously as he rubbed hard at a spot on his index finger. She waited. He didn’t speak for what seemed a long time. She could almost see the words bunching on his tongue.
‘I know things have been shit between us for a while now,’ Devan began eventually, ‘and that’s partly my fault.’ He twitched his eyebrows in an apologetic half-smile.
Surprised by his opener and still nervous, Connie dithered in her response, wondering where this was leading. He was talking again.
‘It’s been weird … not sure how to explain … but I had a serious crisis after you left this time, Connie. I was so low, lower than I can remember being my whole life.’ His head, previously bowed, lifted, his eyes finding hers. He hesitated before going on. ‘I feel like we’ve been locked in separate rooms recently. Like I’ve lost you … and all sense of myself too.’ He took a long breath. Connie did not interrupt: she was too moved by his words, and the obvious bewilderment in his eyes. ‘It was bad. I barely got out of bed. I wasn’t even drinking,just lying there, doing nothing … crying a lot.’ He gave her a rueful grin. ‘Pathetic, I know.’
‘Devan …’
He held up his hand to stop her. ‘Please, let me finish. It’s been going round and round in my head, all this, and I want to get it out.’
This made her smile. Her husband wasn’t comfortable with confessional mode. ‘I’ve tried to analyse what happened to me when I stopped working.’ He paused. ‘It’s hard to articulate … but it was like being trapped in myself. I couldn’t see or feel or care about anyone or anything around me. On one level I knew I was pissing you off, I knew I was letting myself go, but it was all happening at a remove … It didn’t really touch me.’
Connie nodded. She didn’t totally understand, but it made sense.
