Sally Edmonds
Before the “incident”, I was pretty satisfied with my sex life. My husband Todd and I had been together since university, and while we hadn’t always been “hot and heavy” I was looking forward to entering a golden age in our golden years.
Now, historically, Todd wasn’t exactly a wild man in the bedroom. But two years ago something shifted when he started a new job.
They say a change is as good as a holiday, and in this case they were right. Who needs a second honeymoon when your man becomes a consulting actuary! I don’t know what part of advising clients on pension-related decisions sparked him up, but he was reborn. He started exercising, watching his diet and dousing in Cristiano Ronaldo eau de toilette.
The biggest change wasn’t on the outside though…Almost every night he’d come home jumping out of his skin (or at least his khakis). The sex was as enthusiastic as it was creative. We tried blindfolds (on him), ball gags (on me), costumes (he loved covering my face), various positions (behind was a favourite) and always with the lights off – he said it felt more intimate.
But his favourite was role playing. He had a real imagination for it and was endlessly coming up with original and exciting situations: I was Michelle from work and I needed help with the printer, I was Michelle from work and I needed to pencil in a meeting, I was Michelle from work and I was going to leave my husband and he was going to leave his wife so we could finally be together. We’d never been closer.
Which is why when he brought up the threesome, I was intrigued. A few years ago I wouldn’t have dreamed of it. But in this exhilarating stage of our relationship, I felt ready. We were in our prime, the kids were out of the house and living in our investment properties, the dog’s knee replacements had been a success, it was time to put ourselves first.
Initially I suggested we go on one of those sites for couples looking to connect with a third, but Todd was dead set against it. He said it wasn’t safe and he didn’t feel comfortable having a stranger around since we just redid the lawn. Instead, he’d be responsible for finding the perfect person.
I was moved by how seriously he took the task. Having never organised a group sex event before, I was shocked by the amount of work it involved. He was constantly receiving texts, checking emails and taking calls. Thoughtfully he did most of this in the bathroom with the tap running so as not to disrupt the Block.
That dedication paid off, within a week he had someone. In a nice twist of fate, her name was Michelle. Well, I thought, that should be easy to remember!
The following Friday Michelle came over. She seemed nice, although very shy. Hardly saying a word and not even glancing at the charcuterie I’d driven to the good Aldi for. Hoping to relax everyone, I excused myself to organise drinks. When I returned, bottle of Brown Brothers in hand, I got my first sense that something was off.
Todd and Michelle had already moved to the bedroom. When I scrambled after them, dropping my new Peter Alexander robe on the way, I found they’d locked the door.
Knowing Todd’s instinct for safety I assumed it was an accident. But when no one responded to my increasingly hard knocks I realised that there might be more going on here than a few 50-somethings enjoying a bottle of moscato and each other’s bodies.
Eventually I condeeded that this was probably not a misunderstanding and returned to the living room to unwrap the triple brie alone. That would be the closest I’d get to a threeway that night.
