The Saturday morning kitchen smelled of coffee and hot buttered toast, the same breakfast we'd been sharing on a Saturday morning for years. My wife sat across from me, scrolling through her phone while she ate, her attention somewhere else entirely. It was always somewhere else. She had been arranging a weekend trip with her sister for some time, going off to indulge in a couple of shared passions of stately homes and antiques. It had been a long three weeks since I had managed to meet up with Donna, but we had managed to keep in touch by text and discreet phone calls during that time. My wife was not the only one in this house that had made some plans for the weekend.

"So it looks like we will probably leave around ten," she said without looking up. "Sarah wants to get to Harrogate mid-afternoon, check out the National Trust house first and hit that antique market she's been going on about tomorrow morning when it opens."

"Sounds good," I replied, spreading some honey on my toast with careful precision. "You two will have a great time together hopefully. Been a long time since you have had a girl’s trip together."

"Yes I know. Three days away." She finally glanced up, but her eyes didn't quite meet mine. "You'll be alright on your own won’t you?"

"I'm sure I’ll manage," I said with a smile that felt practiced. "Might finally get the garage sorted out. Maybe watch some of those Clint Eastwood films you hate."

She laughed, a polite sound that held no real warmth. "Well, don't burn the house down with your cooking."

"I'll try my best. If in doubt. The takeaway menus will look after me if Mary Berry proves to be too big a challenge."

We finished breakfast in comfortable silence, the kind that came from years of having nothing left to say to each other. She rinsed her plate, kissed my cheek automatically, and disappeared upstairs to finish packing. I sat there for a moment, listening to her footsteps above me, feeling the weight of what I was about to do. It had been a lightning three months since I had first met Donna, but she had come to dominate my waking thoughts and had rejuvenated me beyond belief.

The guilt was thereof course, lurking in the bag of the mind, always ready to leap out and challenge my actions. But it was distant, easily pushed aside by the thought of Donna and the times we had spent together. Now it was being well and truly beaten into submission by our plans for a full night together for the first time. Of falling asleep in her arms and waking up beside her.

At ten-fifteen, I carried my wife’s bag to her car like a caring husband, then a hug and a kiss, and she got into the drivers seat. Her car started and with a wave she pulled out of the driveway. I watched from the end of the drive until she was out of sight. Then it was my turn to get. Shower. Shave. Pack an overnight bag with clothes that my wife wouldn't miss. I checked myself in the mirror. I looked nervous, excited, alive in a way I hadn't felt in years, but at least I looked presentable for my date.

The drive to the meeting point took twenty minutes. We'd agreed on a car park on the outskirts of the town, near a small shopping street pub, about five miles from both of our homes. Neutral territory. It was one thing driving in to Donna’s driveway and slipping into her house, putting her suitcase in my boot and then driving away with her might be a little too much for any curtain twitchers to ignore. As I pulled in to find a space, I saw her car already there, and my heart rate started to climb. This was finally happening after the weeks of planning. Then I saw Donna, leaning against the driver's door, and my breathing decided to take a momentary break.

Donna wore a simple summer dress, pale blue with small white flowers, that fell to just above her knees. Her short hair caught the sunlight, and when she saw me, her face lit up with a smile that made everything else fade away. There was a space next to her and I pulled in and parked beside her and got out. For a moment we just stood there, looking at each other, the weight of what we were about to do hanging between us.

"Well aren’t you pleased to see me?" she said softly.

She knew that I was, my smile was almost splitting my face in two.

"Hello stranger, what are you doing for the rest of the weekend?" I said, continuing to smile. I stepped closer, and suddenly we were in each other's arms, kissing with an urgency that surprised us both. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathless.

"Thank goodness this is a quiet car park,” I said

“I couldn’t wait to see you today. I've been thinking about this all week," Donna whispered against my neck.

"Me too." I held her close, breathing in her perfume. "Are you sure about this?"

She pulled back to look at me, her warm eyes serious. "I've never been more certain of anything."

"Better grab your things then,” I said. "Your car will be fine here until tomorrow. The joys of living in a quiet part of the world."

She nodded, opened her boot grabbed her overnight bag before closing it again and locking her car. I popped the bag into my boot alongside mine, then opened the passenger door for her, and Donna slid into my passenger seat. I too jumped into my seat, started the car again, and reversed out of the space. A quick discrete transfer, and no one was any the wiser. As we pulled out of the car park, she reached over and took my hand, lacing her fingers through mine. The gesture felt significant, intimate in a way that went beyond the physical and a sign of our growing closeness.

The drive to the hotel took around ninety minutes. Added to that we had stopped off at a small country tea room to get a bite to eat together. There was no rush and the leisurely drive suited our moods as we headed to our destination. We'd chosen a place far enough from both our homes that we wouldn't run into anyone we knew. We had chosen a medium size boutique hotel in the countryside, the kind of place that catered to romantic weekends away. As we drove, we talked about nothing and everything, the conversation flowing easily, punctuated by comfortable silences and stolen glances.

"Nervous?" I asked as we turned into the hotel's tree-lined drive.

"Terrified," Donna admitted with a laugh. "But in a good way."

The hotel looked picturesque as we pulled into the parking area. Formerly a large manor house. It had been recently converted into a boutique hotel making the most of the ivy-covered walls and manicured gardens. I parked near the entrance, and we sat there for a moment, looking at the building.

"Its living up to the brochure so far. Last chance to change your mind," I said quietly.

Donna turned to me, her expression serious. "I don't want to change my mind. I want this. I want you. I want one night where we don't have to rush, where we can be a relaxed loving couple and find out more about each other."

I leaned over and kissed her, soft and lingering. "Then let's go and explore the possibilities."

We pulled our bags out of the boot, and I being the gentleman carried them both up the entrance steps and then we walked into the reception together. There was definitely something thrilling about it. The appearance of a married couple on a break away from the pressures of the world, even though it was built on a fabrication. The receptionist smiled warmly as we approached.

"Good afternoon. Checking in?"

"Yes, you should have a room for us tonight, under the name of Anderson," I said, using my real name. It seemed perfectly safe doing that. No one here knew me, and it was the name on the credit card I’d given when booking.

She tapped at her computer. "Ah yes, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. One night in our deluxe room with garden view, and dinner in the restaurant at 7pm. If I could just see some identification?"

I handed over my driving license, my heart pounding, and thanking my lucky stars I had not used a false name on the booking. But the receptionist barely glanced at it before handing it back with two key cards.

"You're in room 214, second floor. Breakfast is served from seven to ten in the conservatory. Your dinner reservation is confirmed, and the restaurant menu is in your room if you want to pre-order. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that's perfect. Thank you."

We took the stairs, both of us too keyed up to wait for the lift. Room 214 was at the end of a quiet corridor. I slid the key card into the lock, and the door clicked open.

The room was lovely. Very spacious and elegantly decorated in soft creams and blues that matched the dress Donna had chosen. A large king size bed dominated the space, crisp white linens sheets covering it and practically glowing in the afternoon light streaming through the windows. There was a sitting area with two comfortable chairs around a coffee table, a writing desk, and through an open door I could see a large marble bathroom.

But I wasn't really looking at the room. I was looking at Donna.

I set both bags down at the end of the bed and turned to face Donna, and the air between us thickened with anticipation. It wasn’t the first bedroom that we had been in together, but this felt very different. More deliberate. More significant.

"We have all the time until tomorrow morning," she said softly, stepping closer. "No rushing. No watching the clock."

"All night," I echoed, reaching for her.

Our kiss started gentle but quickly deepened. My hands found her waist, feeling the soft fabric of her dress, the warmth of her body beneath. Donna's fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me closer, and I could feel her heart racing against my chest.

I broke the kiss to look at her, my hands moving to the buttons of her dress. "May I Mrs “Anderson”?"

"Please do Mr Anderson."

I undid the first button slowly, deliberately, my fingers brushing against her skin. Then the second. The third. Donna watched my face as I worked, her breathing quickening with each button that came undone. When I reached the last one, I pushed the dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Underneath, she wore matching lingerie, a pale pink lace that brought out the tone of her skin and made it glow, A bra that lifted and displayed her breasts beautifully,  allowing a glimpse of her nipples through the fabric. Completing the set were matching knickers that sat low on her hips. She was stunning, and I told her so.

"Your turn," she said, her voice husky.

Donna's hands moved to my shirt, unbuttoning it with the same deliberate slowness I'd shown her. She pushed it off my shoulders, her fingers trailing across my chest, making me shiver. Then she moved to my belt, her eyes locked on mine as she unbuckled it, unzipped my trousers, and pushed them down. I stepped carefully out of them, standing before her in just my boxers.

We both stood there in our underwear, just looking at each other, the anticipation almost unbearable. Then Donna reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let it fall away, and I couldn't help but stare at her breasts, perfect and full, her nipples already hard with arousal.

I stepped forward and cupped them gently, feeling their weight, their softness. Donna's breath quickened, and she arched forward into my touch. I lowered my head and took one nipple into my mouth, circling it with my tongue, and she moaned, her hands gripping my shoulders.

"Bed," she gasped. "Now."

We moved to the bed together, shedding the last of our underwear as we did. I laid her down gently, covering her body with mine, and we kissed deeply as my hands roamed over her curves. There was no urgency this time, after all we had hours. No partners to dash home to before they realise we had been away all day. I could take my time, could explore every inch of her, could learn what made her gasp and moan and cry out my name.

I kissed down her neck, across her collarbone, down to her breasts. I lavished attention on each one, sucking and licking until Donna was writhing beneath me. Then I moved lower, kissing down her stomach, feeling her muscles flutter under my lips, teasing her belly button as I continued my journey south.

"Yes, Andy," she breathed, her fingers threading through my hair.

I settled between her thighs, and the sight of her, her long legs spread open for me, already glistening with arousal, made my cock throb. I leaned forward and tasted her, my tongue sliding into her moist opening, and she cried out.

I took my time, exploring her with my mouth, learning what she liked. I found her clit and circled it with my tongue, and her hips bucked against my face. I slid two fingers inside her, feeling how tight and wet she was, and I curved them to stroke that special spot inside her that made her legs start to tremble.

"Oh god," Donna moaned, her grip in my hair tightening. "Oh god, that's so good."

I worked her steadily, my tongue on her clit, my fingers inside her, and I could feel her getting closer. Her thighs began to shake, her breathing became ragged, and then she was coming, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her back arching off the bed, and her mouth letting out a strangled cry as the frustration was flowing out of her.

I didn't stop until she pushed my head away, too sensitive to continue. Then I kissed my way back up her body, and when I reached her mouth, she kissed me deeply, tasting herself on my lips.

"I need you inside me," she whispered. "Please."

I  was ready and positioned my cock at her entrance, and paused there for a moment, staring into her eyes which were imploring me to move into her feminine void. I pushed forward slowly, feeling her body open for me, accept me. We both groaned at the sensation and the intimacy shared. She was so tight, so hot, and so perfect around my masculinity.

I started to move, establishing a slow, deep rhythm. There was no rush, no time constraint. I could savour every thrust, every gasp, every flutter of her inner muscles around my cock. Donna wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, and we moved together in perfect synchronization.

"You feel amazing," I murmured against her neck. "Absoluely fucking amazing."

"Don't stop," she gasped. "Please don't stop."

I didn't. I made love to her slowly, thoroughly, watching her face as pleasure built across her features. When I felt my own orgasm approaching, I reached between us and found her clit, rubbing it in time with my thrusts.

Donna came first, her pussy clenching around me, her nails digging into my back. The sensation pushed me over the edge, and I thrust deep and held there as my orgasm crashed through me, pulsing inside her in waves of intense pleasure.

We collapsed together, both gasping for air, our bodies slick with sweat. I was still inside her, softening now, but neither of us wanted to move. We lay there, holding each other, feeling the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through us.

"How can you give me so much pleasure every time you…" Donna trailed off, unable to find the words.

"I could say exactly the same to you," I said, kissing her softly.

The exertions had taken their toll, and we lay together, occasionally dozing, but just taking pleasure in each other’s company, knowing that time was not our enemy today. There was so much happiness just lying there wrapped in each other's arms. The afternoon light eventually started to fade, and we both stirred.

"Shower?" Donna suggested, stretching languidly.

"Together?"

She smiled. "Definitely together."

The bathroom was spacious, with a large walk-in shower. Donna turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, and we stepped under the spray together. The hot water felt incredible on my skin, washing away the sweat and evidence of our lovemaking. I reached for the shower gel and poured some into my hands, then began to wash Donna's body. I started with her shoulders, massaging gently, then moved down her back, her sides, her hips. She leaned into my touch, sighing contentedly.

"I could get used to having a shower mate like you," she murmured.

I washed her breasts, cupping them gently, my thumbs brushing over her nipples. They hardened under my touch, and Donna's breath caught. I continued down her stomach, then knelt to wash her legs, working my way from her ankles up to her thighs.

When I reached the apex of her thighs, I couldn't resist. I leaned forward and kissed her there, tasting her mixed with the water. Donna gasped, her hands moving to my hair.

"Naughty boy Andy."

But I pulled back, standing and turning her around to wash her back. She laughed, understanding that I was teasing her, drawing it out. When I was finished, she took the shower gel and returned the favour, her hands exploring my body with the same deliberate care.

We rinsed off together, and then we were kissing again, the water cascading over us. My cock was hardening again, pressing against her stomach, and Donna reached down to stroke it.

"Already?" she teased.

"You have that effect on me. Don’t want to waste a moment of the weekend do we. But we have a booking this evening don’t we.  Eating you will have to wait." We finished our shower reluctantly, both of us aware that we needed to get ready for dinner. We dried off and returned to the bedroom, where our bags waited.

I watched Donna as she dressed, and there was something incredibly intimate about it. She pulled on fresh underwear, black lace this time, the set that had been in the parcel that had set us on this route, and then a simple black dress that hugged her curves. She applied minimal makeup, just enough to enhance her natural beauty, and ran her fingers through her damp hair.

"You're staring," she said with a smile.

"Can you blame me?"

I dressed in dark trousers and a casual shirt, adding a blazer to give the right feeling of formality for the restaurant. When we were both ready, we looked at each other and laughed.

"We look like a proper couple," Donna said.

"We do," I agreed, and there was something bittersweet about it.

We left the room and headed downstairs, past reception, and through the main building to the conservatory restaurant. The restaurant was elegant but not stuffy, with soft lighting in the conservatory to complement the moon and starlight through the glass. Added to the scene were well-spaced tables that offered privacy, and soft background music that would not challenge the ability to hold a muted conversation. We were shown to a corner table with a view of the gardens, now bathed in the soft light of early evening.

We ordered a glass each of white wine to get the evening rolling, and studied the menus, but I found myself watching Donna more than reading. She caught me looking and smiled, reaching across the table to take my hand.

"This is nice," she said softly. "Being able to do this. To sit across from you in public, to hold your hand, to just be together without any worries."

"It is," I agreed, squeezing her fingers. "Even if it is not real life, but just our own hidden story."

"Let’s not think of it that way," she said gently. "Not tonight. Tonight, let's just pretend this is real. That we're just a normal couple having dinner together."

So we did. We ordered our meals and talked about everything and nothing. The conversation flowed easily, moving from light topics to deeper ones.

"When did you know your marriage was changing?" Donna asked as we waited for our main courses.

I considered the question, swirling the wine in my glass. "I'm not sure there was a single moment. It was gradual. Like watching something fade so slowly you don't notice until one day you realize the colour is completely gone."

"That's exactly how it was for me too," Donna said, her eyes sad. "David and I used to talk for hours. About our dreams, our plans, what we wanted from life. Now we barely speak. When he's home, which isn't often, we exist in the same space but we're not really together."

"Do you still love him?" I asked quietly.

She was silent for a long moment. "I don't know anymore. I love the man I married, the man he used to be. But that man doesn't seem to exist anymore. Or maybe he does, and he just saves that version of himself for his work, his colleagues, his clients. Just not for me. Maybe I am just an accessory now to the lifestyle that he likes to lead"

"I understand that," I said. "My wife and I are roommates who share a mortgage. We're polite, considerate even. But there's little passion or romance any more. He shared passions that used to be our connection have faded, and the connection seems to have become a disconnect. I can't remember the last time she really looked at me. Really saw me."

"I see you," Donna said, her eyes locked on mine. "I see you, Andy."

The weight of those words settled over us. Our food arrived, breaking the moment, but the intimacy remained. We ate and talked, and with each glass of wine, we relaxed further into this fantasy of being a normal couple.

"What would you do?" Donna asked as we finished our meals. "If you could do anything. If money and obligations weren't a factor."

"Photography," I answered without hesitation. "I'd go back to it full-time. Travel, maybe. Capture moments, people, beauty. Create something meaningful instead of selling other people's visions for products that they didn’t know that they needed."

"You should do that," she said firmly. "Life's too short to spend it doing something that doesn't fulfil you."

"What about you?"

"I'd design spaces that matter," Donna said, her eyes lighting up. "Not just wealthy clients' second homes or corporate offices. I'd work with charities, design spaces for people who really need them. Shelters, community centres, places that could make a real difference."

"Why don't you?"

She shrugged. "Same reasons as you, I suppose. Bills to pay. A lifestyle to maintain. A husband who expects a certain standard of living. I always end up working for the people who have the big money, can afford the designs that I create for them. The community centres may happen, but at the moment it is Lady wannabe and a kitchen to outshine her neighbours."

"We're both trapped," I observed.

"Perhaps we are now,” Donna agreed. "Or maybe we're just waiting for the right time to break free, when fear of the change does not hold us back and we can take that leap. Never say never Mr Anderson"

The rest of the dinner flowed gently, the main course disappeared, the desserts replaced them and were consumed, and the conversation flowed through the evening like a gentle stream. After dinner, we moved to the hotel bar. It was quieter here, with soft jazz playing and dim lighting that created an intimate atmosphere. Most couples had either left to go home or had gone to their rooms to sleep off the alcohol and the chef’s best efforts. We found a corner booth and ordered drinks. A brandy for me, gin and tonic for her.

Donna slid close to me in the booth, her thigh pressing against mine. It was so nice  that for these stolen hours away we could relax togetherIn public, we could touch like this, casually, the way any couple would. Her hand rested on my leg, and I draped my arm across the back of the seat, my fingers playing with her hair.

"I could get used to this," she murmured.

"So could I."

We sat there for an hour, talking and touching, existing in our bubble. A small number of other patrons finishes their meals and came and went, but we barely noticed them. To anyone watching, we were just another couple enjoying a romantic evening away.

But beneath the surface, there was an undercurrent of tension combined with excitement. The knowledge that this was temporary, stolen, but at the same time a taste of that oh so sweet forbidden fruit. That tomorrow we'd return to our separate lives, our separate marriages. There was perhaps a bittersweet awareness that this intimacy, this openness, could only exist in these hidden moments, but for me the sweetness of the moments far exceeded the bitterness of being apart after the weekend.

"Ready for bed?" Donna asked eventually, her voice low and suggestive.

"I thought you’d never ask."

We finished our drinks and made our way back to our room. The moment the door closed behind us, we paused, letting the romance of the evening flow over us still, but then the tension broke, and we fell on each other with a very different hunger from the one that we had just put behind us. This kiss was different from earlier, more urgent, more desperate, as if we were both aware of time slipping away.

Donna's hands worked at my shirt buttons once again, while I found the zipper of her dress and tugged it down in an assault on her dressmaker’s finest work. We undressed each other with deliberate care, taking our time despite the urgency we felt.  And then we were both naked, and in need of each other’s bodies, and we moved to the bed.

This time, our lovemaking was slower, more tender. I entered her gently, and we moved together in a rhythm that felt ancient and new all at once. We made love face to face, maintaining eye contact, and there was something profound about it, a connection that went beyond the physical.

"I don't want this to end," Donna whispered, her legs wrapped around me.

"Neither do I."

We moved together, building slowly toward our release. When Donna came, I felt it in every fibre of my being, the way her body tensed, the way she cried out my name, the way her inner muscles pulsed around me. I followed moments later, burying myself as deep inside her as I could possibly reach as my orgasm washed over me.

Afterward, we didn't separate. We lay there, still joined, holding each other close. Eventually, I slipped out of her and rolled onto my side, pulling her against me. She fit perfectly in my arms, her back to my chest, our bodies curved together like puzzle pieces. Minutes past like that, and the exertions of the day were finally taking their toll, along with a splendid meal and a healthy intake of wine.

"Goodnight, Andy," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Donna."

We fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms. It was the first time we'd slept together, and it felt significant. more intimate, somehow, than the sex. To sleep beside someone, to be vulnerable in that way, to trust them with your unconscious self.

The next thing I knew was when I woke to the sound of running water. For a moment, I was disoriented, unsure where I was. Then I remembered. the hotel, Donna, our night together. I glanced at the clock: 7:30 AM. Through the open bathroom door, I could see steam rising from the shower.

I got out of bed and padded naked to the bathroom. Through the glass shower door, I could see Donna's silhouette, her hands in her hair as she rinsed out shampoo. I opened the door and stepped inside.

"Morning lover," I said, wrapping my arms around her from behind. “Room for one more again?”

She jumped slightly, then relaxed against me. "Morning. Sleep well?"

"Better than I have for a long time”

“Me too, fancy doing my back again?”

I reached for the shower gel and once again poured some into my hands, then began to wash her. I started with her shoulders, working my way down her back on a by now familiar journey, massaging gently. My hands gently cupped her buttocks, and then reached around the front of Donna as she leaned back against me, sighing contentedly.

I cupped her breasts again, both together,  washing them thoroughly, and taking the opportunity to gently pull on her nipples. They hardened immediately, and Donna's breathing deepened as she felt the electricity flow from my hands into her erogenous zones.

"Careful," she warned playfully. "We need to check out soon."

"We have time this time," I murmured, continuing my exploration.

I washed her stomach, then turned her round and knelt before her, my mouth moving towards her groin. I couldn't resist. I leaned forward and kissed her there, tasting her.

"Andy," she gasped, her hands moving to my hair and twisting my locks as I nuzzled further into her. Her legs opened to let me explore, and so I explored her with my tongue, finding her clit and circling it. Donna's legs began to tremble, and she braced herself against the shower wall. I slid two fingers inside her, curving them to stroke that spot inside her that made her cry out.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Oh god, don't stop."

I didn't. I worked her with my mouth and fingers, feeling her getting closer. Her grip in my hair tightened to the point it was painful, her hips moving against my face. Then she was coming, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her cries echoing off the tile walls.

As I stood, Donna reached for my cock, which was fully hard now. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking slowly.

"Your turn now," she said, her voice trembling with what she had just experienced.

She stroked me with practiced ease, her grip firm, her pace perfect. I braced myself against the wall, one hand on her hip, the other on the tile, as she worked me. The combination of her hand on my cock and the memory of her taste on my tongue pushed me quickly toward the edge, as her other hand cupped and squeezed my balls.

"Donna," I groaned. "I'm close and I want to come inside you again."

I was not going to let this go to waste. I hooked both hands under her knees and thighs and lifted her into the air. Trapping her between me and the tiled walls, I felt her hand guide my cock into her as I lifted her further and took her weight. Her arms went over my shoulders and her legs wrapped tight around me. She left enough freedom for me to gently lift and lower her, my cock acting as a guide to keep her impaled in space and trapped against the wall. We both worked at it, lifting and lowering, giving every inch of effort so I could thrust deeply into her again and again, as the shower continued its cascade over us.

It was not long before this had the desired effect, three final thrusts and I cam into her deep and in great volume. A few remaining thrusts andmy juice was flowing back out of her as I pushed back in, the shower washing it away and down the drain. Fulfilled, I slowly lowered her back to stand on the shower floor, both of us barely believing what we had just managed to achieve. We stood there for a moment, both breathing hard, the water cascading over us. Then we finished our shower properly, washing each other with gentle care, and stepped out to dry off.

Reality began to intrude as we dressed and packed our bags. The fantasy of being a normal couple faded as we prepared to return to our separate lives. We were quiet as we gathered our things, both of us feeling the weight of what came next.

But there was still breakfast. In the conservatory again. A proper breakfast. Bacon and scrambled eggs, hot black coffee, and croissants with Jam. Fresh fruit and freshly squeezed orange juice by the glassful. How a breakfast should be, and in wonderful company with flowing conversation and jokes and laughter. Yesterday’s breakfast just paled into insignificance.

But all breakfasts must come to and end, and so did this one. Back to the room to pick up our bags, and then back down to reception. We checked out at reception, and the same woman from yesterday smiled warmly at us.

"I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson."

"Very much," I said, returning her smile. "Thank you."

“I hope we will see you again soon.”

“So do we.” I rejoindered with a smile

The drive back was charged with emotion. Donna sat close to me, her hand in mine, and we were both quiet. There was so much to say and nothing to say all at once.

"Thank you," Donna said finally as we neared the car park where we'd left her car. "For last night. For everything."

"I should thank you," I replied. "It was everything I could have hoped for, and more besides."

"It was," she agreed. "But now we have to go back."

"I know."

I pulled into the car park and stopped beside her car. We sat there for a moment, neither of us wanting to move, to break this final connection.

"When can I see you again?" Donna asked quietly.

"Soon," I promised. "I'll text you."

She nodded, then leaned over and kissed me. It was soft and lingering, full of everything we couldn't say. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes.

"I should go," she whispered.

"I know."

She got out of the car, and I got out and retrieved her bag from the boot. I watched as she unlocked her car and tossed the bag inside,  and got into the drivers seat. Then she turned back to me, and we looked at each other through the windscreen. She raised her hand in a small wave, and I returned it, my heart heavy, but light at the same time

Then she started her car, reversed out, and drove away, with me watching until she disappeared around  the turn in the road. I got back into my own car and sat there for several long minutes, watching her disappear, feeling the emptiness settle over me. Finally, I started my car and drove home.

The house was silent when I arrived. Empty. The contrast to the intimacy of the past twenty-four hours was stark and painful. I dropped my bag in the hallway and headed upstairs to shower, washing away the last traces of Donna's perfume, the last evidence of our night together.

I dressed in clean clothes and went downstairs to make some lunch. As I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee and a sandwich, I could hear the echo of yesterday’s morning's conversation with my wife. The same table, the same husband, but I was a different person now.

My phone buzzed with a text. It was from Donna.

Thank you for last night. For making me feel alive. For seeing me. I miss you so much already. x

I stared at the message, my chest tight with emotion. I should delete it. I should end this before it went too far, before someone got hurt.

Instead, I typed back: I miss you too. Last night was incredible. You're incredible. When can we do it again? x

Her response came immediately: Soon. Please, soon. x

I set my phone down and finished my sandwich, the silence of the house pressing in around me. Tomorrow my wife would be home, and I'd slip back into my role. The dutiful husband. The reliable partner. The man who existed in the margins of someone else's life.

But for one night, I was something else. I was seen. I was wanted. I was alive.

And I knew, with absolute certainty, that I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Three miles. That was all that separated my two lives. Three miles and a world of difference.

And I was no longer sure which life was the real one. All I knew for now was that there was a garage I had to tidy, and some Clint Eastwood films to watch.