We strayed. From our spouses. From our lives. We let ourselves go and we let ourselves get wrapped up in a moment that wasn’t real. I fell into your lap for what felt like a millennia. In reality, it was ungraceful and clumsy and took less than two seconds. I more plopped than sat down. You and I both grunted with the force of my impact. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t like what you see in movies. Regardless, there I was, half in the sand, half on your lap, your hand in mine, my other hand hovering in the air like Ricky Bobby when he doesn’t know what to do with hands. You let go of my hand, and with both hands brushed my tangled hair away and embraced my face. I felt so small. Your hands spanned the length of my face, my cheeks, onto my temples, onto my neck, holding me. I met your gaze. Your eyes were grey that day, not the blue I had registered on the boat, still brooding and turning, still dangerous, but no longer blue. You leaned in, the tip of your nose grazed mine, “Lana West, you consume me” and with that you kissed me. I let it happen. My hands, once frozen in midair fell to my sides, I felt the soft sand on my knuckles. I felt the breath leave my body. I sighed. “Should I stop?” I answered you by kissing you back, leaning in deeply, wrapping my hands around your waist and pulling at your shirt. Grabbing handfuls of it into a tight fist and pulling it toward me. As your tongue brushed across mine, casually gracing my lips, I knew I was lost. I knew that whatever this was, I was in it. I should have felt ashamed. I should have felt regret. I should have stopped. I pulled you in closer.

We only had moments on that beach. The lunch was scheduled to last an hour. We wasted half of that on the walk to and from the cove. It was moments that live in my memory as years. I think of that beach and that kiss and that moment as a lifetime rather than a fleeting incident. We walked back to the cove, hand in hand, leaning on each other. As we parted the woods you let go of my hand and walked away from me to the boat. We rode back together, but not touching, not speaking. We were just two lonely travelers on the same excursion, nothing to see here folks. Nothing to see at all.

As the cat docked, I turned and asked, “will I see you again?” “Of course you will Lana, the boat isn’t that big.” You grinned; you had this devilish grin. Completely noncommittal. Completely aloof. Completely unreadable. Already panic had set in, what had I done? Who was I? What was I doing? What did this mean? I returned to my cabin. Robert was asleep in the bed, still in his swimming trunks. He was snoring. I didn’t know what to do. I decided to take a shower and prepare for dinner. It was late, almost six, almost dinner time. When I got out of the shower Robert was awake. “You ready for dinner? I’m starving.” “I will be, you need to shower.”

Robert and I dressed and went to the Italian themed restaurant on the boat. They seated us at a table in the middle, crammed in between all the other diners. I had a view of the entrance. I watched as you walked in twenty minutes later with Madison on your arm. My heart stopped. You looked dashing, pressed shorts, an aqua collared shirt, I think it was Lacoste. Your hair was tousled and over one eye again, I was always struck by how blonde it was. I was a swimmer in my youth, I remember that “swimmer hair”, you had it. Straw like, but soft, full of body, sexy. You took my breath away. Madison, however, was not what I had imagined. She was short, shorter than me by several inches and I’m only 5’5, and she was stocky, at least twenty pounds heavier than me, but not muscular. I had spent years in boot camp and CrossFit and yoga, I was thick but built, she looked…plain…I hate myself for thinking that, but that was the first word that came to my mind, plain, she was completely, normal. I was shocked at just how normal she looked. I was right about the big boobs though, but otherwise, I was way off. Her hair was dark brown, maybe black and pulled back in a severe ponytail. No bangs. She looked tired. Her dress was ill-fitted, floral design, spaghetti straps, and wrinkled. She was wearing flats, maybe Toms, I couldn’t tell. I was dressed in a black strapless number, fitted, I was still ready to show off my newly lost weight. My shoes were strappy and pink with little flowers on the toes and they showed off my pedicure. I resisted the urge to stand up and wave to get your attention. I didn’t need to, you saw me and headed straight to our table. We had been seated at a four-top, there were two open seats, “mind if we join you?” Before I could answer Robert said, “sure, have a seat.” You pulled out Madison’s chair and then sat beside me. I could feel you beside me, the heat radiating off your body, or maybe it was mine, I felt myself flush. “I’m Thomas, this is my wife Madison”, you held out your hand to Robert across the table. He took your hand, “I’m Robert, this is my wife Lana, we’re from Boston.” “Georgia by way of Ohio for us.” The dinner continued in this fashion, small talk between all parties. Where we were from, what we did for a living, the fact that neither of us had children, where we went to school, favorite sports teams, favorite places, and on and on. It was easy conversation, I was shocked at how easily we could sit there and lie, sit there and pretend. Madison was nice, polite, smiled easily, laughed quietly. I liked her. It was such a bizarre feeling, but I thought to myself at one point, “she’s someone I would be friends with.” When dinner ended you and Robert stood and shook hands again. You took my hand in yours and said “Lana West, it was a pleasure to meet you.” With that, you walked away, holding Madison’s hand.

Robert and I left the restaurant and headed to a disco bar on the boat. You weren’t there. We only had two more nights on the boat. There were no more excursions. We were at sea, heading back to Florida and port. I couldn’t be alone with you, hell I couldn’t even fathom how to find you. There was no excuse for us to be together. I started thinking I’d never see you again. I cried myself to sleep that night. It was the first time in a long time I had cried into my pillow over a guy, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the last.

Our last day on the boat I got up early, ran on the track around the boat and settled into a comfy lounge chair by one of the pools. I didn’t have to find you, you found me. You came to me at the pool bar, “give me your phone”, I did. You put your number in it, “call me”. Call me. Like I’m some teenage girl. Call me. The ball was clearly in my court. You ordered two drinks, I knew then Madison was with you, and disappeared. I stood there, staring at my phone, at the number, contemplating not hitting save. Instead, I hit the message button. “This is Lana. Now you have my number too.” I hit send, but not save. I spent the day on my chair, constantly checking my phone. No response. No message. Robert came and sat with me for a bit, he was drinking beer that afternoon, a sign that maybe tonight wouldn’t be a disaster. He and I swam and laughed and for a moment had the time on the boat I had hoped we’d have. At six Robert suggested we get showered and head to dinner. The sushi restaurant this time. You weren’t there. After dinner I wanted to go back to the cabin to pack, Robert wanted to head to the casino. He and I parted ways. My watch buzzed at 9:27, it was an unknown number, “are you alone, can you get away?” It was you. “Yes”, no hesitation, “meet me at the Solarium Bar in ten minutes.” I found the bar twenty minutes later, I saw you standing at the bar, back turned to the room, chatting up the bartender. I wound my way through the crowd and to your side. There were two drinks in front of you, martinis of some sort, something I don’t drink, you handed me one, “follow me.” The Harmony of the Seas is gigantic. There are nooks and crannies, and seating in all sorts of hidden and out of the way places. You led me to a settee under a canopy looking out over a railing. It was private and it was only for those who had reserved it. I felt a rush, had you planned this ahead of time? Had you arranged this for us? Or had you arranged this for you and Madison, and it fell through, so I was second choice? These were the types of questions I eventually learned to live with. The questions I eventually stopped asking. Truth be told, these were the types of questions I didn’t want to know the answer to.

We sat, side by side, drinks on the table in front of us, a gentle breeze in our hair, the dark waters stretching for miles in front of us. “I’m sorry Lana, I’m sorry for all of this.” “Sorry for what? You didn’t do anything.” “I dragged you into something you don’t deserve. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never cheated on my wife.” The statement hung there; I didn’t know what to say. My mind immediately screamed, “that’s what they all say I bet!” Instead, I said “I haven’t either, all these years, this is a first for me too.” You interlocked your fingers with mine, “I need you to know that I want us to be together. I don’t want this to end. I have never met anyone like you. I need you in my life.” I sighed, you leaned in and kissed me. We made out on that settee like high school seniors on prom night in the back of our parents Buick. I’ll never forget the way your hands felt on my skin, under my blouse, touching my stomach, my sides, my back. Your fingers playing at my spine, massaging my ribs. You mouth and your tongue on my lips, my neck, my chest. I was lost. Completely enamored and begging for more. I needed you.

At midnight I came up for air and made a bad joke about turning into a pumpkin and needing to return to my cabin. You laughed, whispered, “a few more minutes.” At two in the morning we parted ways. I kissed you for what I thought would be the last time. Deep, lasting, rocking my body. I returned to my cabin, you to yours, us to our lives. At six a.m. I departed the boat with Robert, bound for the airport, bound for Boston, bound for eternity, by you.