That One Secret You Take to the Grave

Although you devilishly acknowledge its existence

One aspect of life that really sucks is keeping secrets. It’s not the secrets that suck though, it’s the fact that you can’t share them with anyone. I mean, you could but they may ruin lives so they’re best left never spoken of.

Up until the other day, when I doubled down and became a married man’s reason to cheat, there’s been one other sexual secret I’ve managed to hang onto for a very long time. As with the married man, this one will go to the grave with me.

Jamie was a former coworker of mine. In fact, I replaced her when she went on maternity leave for a year, but after that year she’d decided she was never coming back to work. She and her husband decided she would be a stay at home mom while he worked to support their new little family.

Jamie and I had a great friendship inside of work and I didn’t see her for a long time after she’d left. We missed working together.

One Friday afternoon while sitting at my desk I received an email from her asking if I wanted to meet for lunch. She would come downtown to meet so I’d have time to fit her in on my lunch break.

Her email came with perfect timing because I had felt a bit of a cold coming on so I’d already told my boss I was going home for the afternoon to get some rest. It was Friday and I would have the weekend to take care of myself.

Jamie and I now had no time limit on our lunch date, which enabled us to imbibe more freely than if I’d had to return to work. We ended up getting tipsy over lunch.

The alcohol either masked my cold symptoms or just made me care less, because we quickly decided, hell it was Friday! Why stop at lunch? Rather than call it a day, we rode the train back to my place and I called up a guy from my softball team to see what the group was up to that night.

Pool party was the answer. He invited the two of us to a barbecue in the back yard of the teammate who had a pool. So off we went — without swimsuits, because why plan ahead?

The barbecue was just an excuse for the pool party, really. I don’t even remember eating but I do remember drinking more. And I do remember the evening cooled off to a point where I thought swimming seemed like a bad idea. But alcohol always makes way for poor judgement and the pool suddenly looked more inviting than it should have.

Jamie and I stripped down to nothing and cannon-balled our way into the water. After watching us in amusement, the guys all decided to join us.

This was the innocent part of the night. How Jamie and I arrived at the not so innocent part is still a mystery.

The pool party was way in the south end of the city and I lived in the north. After some consideration about how we’d get home, Jamie called a friend of hers to see if he would be willing to come pick us up and take us back to our end of the city. He agreed.

The man was a lawyer. I’m unclear on how Jamie knew him but they seemed close and somehow we ended up at his house for a nightcap. He lived in a huge, beautiful home in our end of the city.

It was obvious by family photos displayed on his walls, that he was a husband and family man. Jamie was a wife and mother. I was just me.

At one point, shortly after arriving at his house all the family, husband, and wife lines became obscurely blurred as the three of us ended up entangled in something I’ve never been a part of before.

Although much of it was a haze, I remember not being attracted to nor interested in the lawyer at all. I didn’t kiss him, touch him, nor engage in any contact with him. I just wanted it from her, which was a strange feeling because I’d never considered sexual contact with another woman before.

While Jamie was being mauled by him, I was being mauled by her and we were a twisted triangle of naked bodies on the floor of his living room.

I was the only one not giving anything to either of them. Instead, I was on the receiving end of oral stimulation from Jamie, and I didn’t stop it. It felt strangely sexy being desired by another woman.

While she eagerly pleasured me I listened to her moans of delight from being pleasured by him. I watched him fuck her while she made it her mission to get me off.

I distinctly remember wondering if this was something Jamie had done before — giving oral pleasure to another woman. She certainly knew what she was doing and I selfishly laid back and took it.

Almost simultaneously, the entire three-way storm came to a head all at once. I was thoroughly satisfied and beyond confused over what had just happened.

How did we even arrive at that point?

And how did we get home?

I didn’t ask any questions and didn’t want any answers.

Jamie and I made a pact to take that entire night to the grave with us. We swore never to tell another soul what we had done. I was the only one of the three who had nothing to lose, they were both married with children.

Now, more than fifteen years later, Jamie and I are still Facebook friends. She’s still married, with four children now and appears to be living a happy and fulfilled family life.

Every once in awhile a meme about drunken behavior or bad decision making will float through our Facebook timelines and we’ll tag each other, adding devilish grinning or winking emojis.

Only we will ever know the story behind those Facebook tags.