by Bren Gosling
My girlfriends never got over how I settled for Peter at nineteen. He is what you would call ‘steady.’ They said with my curves in all the right places I could’ve bagged anyone. Thirty years on and I’m still ample. The thing is, now, so is Peter. I do love him, except... Maybe if we’d had kids. We tried, but no-can-do. Didn’t fancy adopting. So we comforted ourselves with a nice house in the suburbs and exotic holidays. The mortgage was paid off last year. Only, when he gets in from work all he’s after is dinner in front of the Channel Four News. And he’s away a lot. At the weekends he likes to play golf and talk about Futures and Forex, mostly...
I’ve taken a risk, I know, not like me at all. But after my little health scare, I thought, no point in holding off, is there? As long as I’m not hurting anyone. Peter and I get on after our own fashion: I wouldn’t want for us to separate. This way it’s no questions asked. And who knows what he gets up to on the quiet? I limit myself to once a fortnight when I’m certain he’s not coming home, always after eleven because then I know the neighbours are settled in for the night. I’ve been very discrete. Of course, I don’t use my real name. And it’s not as if I’m posting selfies all over the place. Just the one website, one picture that hints rather than being full -on. Better to make the imagination work a bit, tease a little. You’d be amazed how many fit young blokes there are out there, looking for anonymous excitement with the more mature woman.