"You have a great walk," I told her. She looked at me like I was crazy. "No, really," I said. "You can tell a lot about a woman by the way she walks and her body language as a whole. Is she looking at the ground, unconfident, or is she standing tall, greeting the world? And, you have a swing when you walk," I added playfully. She was taken aback—as I knew she would be. A clever man might talk about a woman's intelligence being a turn-on, but most men don't usually talk about confidence in this fashion. I moved the conversation from confidence-building to sex, and she followed along, clearly digging where I was guiding things. She was very interested in how I saw her, hungry for the compliments and clearly longing for the passion I started putting out. She reversed the question on herself and then told me what she liked about me, and the conversation tumbled into her passionate thoughts, how I was making her feel: relaxed, free, feminine. At this point, I was in a dicey situation. I didn't want to sleep with her, but the challenge of having her commit to giving herself over was intoxicating. So, I kept pushing the limits and pouring it on, all the while hoping that my wife would understand the true motivations for my actions.
Fifteen minutes later—an hour-and-a-half after we arrived at the restaurant—I made The Ask: was she interested in heading down the street to a nice hotel and experiencing what I have been describing? I told her I haven't prepared for this, but connections like this are rare, and that I'm having a hard time controlling myself. I didn't want to be so forward, but… and I stopped talking, letting my look fall to the floor. This gave her the illusion of being in control of the situation with a choice. A short pause and a coy smile from her told me instantly that she is absolutely hooked, and mine for the taking. She agreed to go to the hotel with a whisper, and leaned across the table to kiss me to seal the deal. And… I froze. My body language changed instantly, and I sat back from the table and put my hand up to stop her advance.
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"What?" she laughed.
"No, really. I can't do this."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, with genuine confusion. With a sigh—and for the first time realizing that I didn't have an exit from this situation—I explained: "I'm working on a research project on adultery. This is a part of it. I'm sorry, but I can't cheat on my wife." Can Cheating Ever Be Good For A Relationship?
I paused and she stared at me in disbelief. I had effectively brought her to the apex of her wanting, and now I was pulling the rug out from under her.
"So, this was all bullshit?" she asked through her teeth, not wanting to cause a scene in the restaurant. I sat motionless, unsure of what to do when she made the decision for me. With a look that would level an army, she seethed out, "Fuck you, Cameron," and threw what was left of her martini at me. She turned and stormed out of the restaurant.
My heart went out to her. It wasn't her fault. I'd be a liar if I said I wasn't tempted, but my wife, my honor, my word and my humanity are not worth it, no matter how attractive she might have been. After patting myself dry amidst slack-jawed looks from other diners, I left the restaurant and headed home. I was emotionally spent.
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As I pulled into my little suburb-of-a-town, I arrived at a local coffee shop down the street from my house, and I called my wife to see if she would join me. She agreed, but when she arrived I knew something was wrong. My thoughts were confirmed when I greeted her. With a smile on my face and my arms out to embrace her, I was greeted with, "Don't even touch me, I can smell you from here. You smell like liquor and whores."