I married Jack after a whirlwind romance, just over fifteen years ago, now in my forties, he has abandoned me, I saw it coming, neither of us to blame really, we both fucked up, literally. Being abandoned felt good.

                  When we met Jack was a Project Manager, he built those big luxury apartment blocks in and around London. Not the real high-end stuff, more for your higher middle-class punters. He was good, confident, the company he worked for loved him. Then came the recession. Baltimore Estates decided not to break ground on any new sites, but they didn’t want Jack to leave, so they offered him a temporary assignment selling units on the site he had nearly completed.

                  It was like a new beginning for Jack, because he knew how the buildings went together, he could offer advice, tailor the finishes and build confidence with the buyers. He upsold wardrobes, extra intelligent sound and vision. Making the company good money and himself great commission he was never going back to the muck and bullets of actual building.

                  A few years on and he got promotion, my own small business selling online fashion was doing reasonably well, then disaster struck, at least for me. Both my parents were killed in a helicopter crash, my father a pilot was ferrying a footballer to the continent, and my mother along for a joyride. They left me a good sum in trust, which was a surprise, and a substantial house on Dartmoor in the village of Widecombe in the Moor. I got depressed and wanted out of London, hoping the peace of the country and returning to my roots would make me feel better.

                  We finally agreed I would make the move permanently, and Jack would work in London part of the week  and spend a few days working and at leisure over the weekend in our country home.  It worked for a few years, but Jack didn’t come home much during the week, he felt he needed to be visible. In a way he was right, they promoted him to sales director, and he was tasked with building a sales team. He had a few smart girls working under him, in more ways than one I found out.

                  On occasions I could smell the scent on his clothes, then at one evening soirée I sat next to a girl called Jennifer, caught a whiff of her perfume, then I knew, it was the same perfume. Of course he denied it, but we drifted into separate lives. He didn’t always come home at weekends anymore.

Isla the land lady at the Black Dog Inn asked me if I wanted to do a bit of waiting in the Pub, it was just what I needed, it got me out. If it was good enough for Jack, why not me. It began with one of a stag parties, this man made a pass at me. I thought what the fuck, I could nearly be his mother, then I smiled inwardly and thought again. He came home with me when the shift was over, he was fit, a bit rough, but not too much. He didn’t satisfy me, even after the second attempt, and while he was sleeping, I fondled his hardening cock and rubbed my own clit, a bit of self service never hurt.

From then on, I got a bit more selective, and varied. I tried being discrete, never again walking home with the guy. I gave my number, then when back home texted directions. I lived not far from the pub, I had no direct neighbours and a long secluded drive, so I was confident I wasn’t being too precocious with my peccadilloes. Any way I had nobody close by to upset. When I got fed up with them, I just blocked their numbers, but mostly the guys (and once or twice a woman) were just in it for a shag. Just like me they wanted no romance.

Then Jack came home and announced he was being made redundant. At that moment I realised I really didn’t want him anymore, he had to serve a month in his job to hand over, then two months garden leave. I was in turmoil, contemplating engaging a solicitor. I didn’t want to start divorce proceedings, we were both guilty of adultery, and I knew it would be a hard costly fight. Luck shone on me though he landed a job in Dubai, selling high rise luxury apartments. Even better he would be away for months on end.

At the time my best friend was Jason from the pub, he was the chef. Jason had observed me and the succession of lovers and pulled me aside for a chat. Nothing judgemental, more concern for my safety than anything else. He was kind, gave me his number and put it as an emergency speed dial on my phone, promising me he could be with me in minutes if I had a problem. He also taught me a few basic self defence tricks as well. He wasn’t the kind of man you would imagine to be helpful in a fight, more cuddly than ferocious. So, I unburdened myself to him. Not looking for advice, just some one to talk to. Jason was a good listener, he offered nothing more than an ear. It helped me to decide what to do, basically nothing, wait it out, maybe Jack would find a new soul mate and file for divorce himself one day. Then I would have the upper hand.

He came home from time to time, we had separate rooms and lived lives apart, but we didn’t flaunt our conquests to each other, we actually became better friends.

Then one day everything changed, we had a newcomer to the village, a tall fit looking man, fair haired, a bit mysterious, but what a lover, I just couldn’t get enough of Mark Kingdom. Months later we were still at it, I wasn’t sure how or where this was going, then out of the blue Jack told me he wasn’t coming home, he was living with a girl in Dubai and wanted a divorce. In that moment I felt liberated.

Mark was coming around tonight, I wondered how he would take the news and what he would think, we had both affirmed our ideas that our sex was nothing more than that. The trouble was, I was beginning to hope for more. Tonight, would be eventful, but I had no idea how eventful it would turn out to be.