I had married young, but I was still in love with my husband, Roger.
However, some sort of marital panic was starting to set in. So I put out a call to Carla, who’d been my best friend forever. She’d wed at the same age as me. I needed to find out if she was having similar feelings.
We met at an outdoor café and had afternoon tea, all very civilized and grownup. Carla is a gorgeous woman, with a model’s features and a swimmer’s body. Bob, her husband, was lucky to have married her.
I started cautiously feeling her out about her marriage. But Carla was too sharp and knew me too well.
“Baby,” she said, reaching across the table to take my hand, “What’s wrong? Is it you and Roger?”
The smile felt strained on my face. “It’s more me and me. Roger’s great. He’s attentive, kind, honest. But lately…” I shrugged. “He’s the last man I’m ever going to have sex with. I wonder if I should’ve, y’know, done more guys before I married him. Do you ever feel that way?”
There it was. I’d said it. I wouldn’t have confided in anyone else, but Carla was special. We’d seen each other through lots of highs and lows.
She was still holding my hand. A wistful look came over her lovely face. “Do I wish I’d sown more wild oats before becoming a bride? Or even just one more oat?” Her words trailed off.
She looked down into her teacup and said, “I’m in the mood for something stronger than this. Let’s go back to my place and have some wine. Bob’s away on business.”
Wine sounded good. She poured it for us in her living room. She and Bob had a nice place, just like me and Roger. On paper, we had both married smart. So, what was wrong?
Thoughtfully, Carla said, “I was thinking about all the men I know you slept with before even meeting Roger. It’s a perfectly respectable number. I got around, too, before Bob. Remember that one guy we traded back and forth during the summer after our sophomore year in college?”
How could I have forgotten! We both laughed about our adventures. There had been other wild times, and Carla had always been around for them. We were sitting together on the plush couch. This time, I took her hand and squeezed it softly.
Then, in a rush, an old memory returned to me. I recalled being in Carla’s dorm, talking into the wee hours. We’d been relaxing together on her bed, best buds snuggling up. But I had felt a stirring. I’d pressed against her, intrigued by her taut body in a way that titillated my senses. We giggled and talked about all sorts of things, but it felt for a while like we were circling toward a more sensual event. I remembered vividly how I’d thought about kissing her. Not some playful kiss, either, but one on the mouth, full of passion. I hadn’t been able to imagine what might have happened after that.
But the moment had passed. Had I repressed that erotic memory all these years?
When I blinked back to the present, I found Carla gazing deeply at me. She’d set down her glass. She reached up and trailed her fingertips delicately over my cheek. In a trembling voice she said, “Let me tell you the total truth, baby. I love Bob. But there is one thing, and one thing only, that man can’t be for me.”