I did something I said I’d never do. I broke a rule and slept with someone I shouldn’t have. I’m married for God’s sakes — and supposed to be monogamous. I feel so much guilt, so much shame. I don’t know what to do.
Monogamy. What a laugh. How can my marriage be a monogamous one if I’m spending time with someone else? What a joke. I’m a fool.
What isn’t funny is the sex. It’s passionate. The taste of my lover is still on my tongue. That craving stays with me. I can’t get it out of my mind. Does that make me a bad person?
I’m not evil. I mean, I never planned to do that. It’s not like I wanted to slip into bed with someone other than my spouse. I’ve never done anything like that before! I’ve never even thought about it. Believe me, I’m not a bad individual, just a weak one — and, so terribly lonely.
Christ! I’m so confused!
Perhaps I needed this to make me realise what I’ve been missing all this time. Yes. That’s it. It started with an innocent kiss but I needed it — and no one’s innocent in this game anyway. We’re all guilty. I know I’m guilty of being in a loveless marriage.
That doesn’t help. I still hate myself.
Instead, I won’t talk about it. If I don’t speak about it, then it can be as if it didn’t happen at all. I can get on living my life. I can leave the guilt behind and concentrate on not doing it ever again.
But I don’t want that either.
No!
That taste! That crave! Those kisses!
Secret affairs happen, and one of the steamiest ones is written in my novel SEETHINGS.
The challenge in writing a novel about adults who have secret affairs is developing good, strong characters and providing quality backstories that support their actions. Internal conflict helps too, so we know how it feels for them to experience adultery. The other part is for them to enjoy delicious steam when they finally make a naughty connection with their alternate lover.
There is one other side I like to include.
Legitimate reasons for adults to engage in extramarital relationships. This matters. I feel each character I write into a story has to give readers an understanding of how difficult it can be for well-intended individuals to break their rules. I don’t want promiscuous horn-bags who are well-skilled at bed-hopping. I want real people struggling with mixed, tumultuous emotions in my stories.
If what happens between the sheets is to be a true accident, then every emotional breakage that supports it must be justifiable. That doesn’t make what they do right, just understandable. The higher their standards, the greater their fall.
Good people make mistakes — to cover what they really feel, and to get what they desperately need.
Five women’s bodies are discovered after the nights of thunderstorms. Their spouses are suspected of the crimes, but it becomes clear that someone else is responsible. There’s no blood and few clues. A storm photographer specialising in taking lightning pictures may be the only witness.
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