All confessions shared in Jeff’s Corner are fictional.
Here’s what one husband wrote to me:
Dear Jeff,
I’m writing because I think I need some guidance.
For years I’ve had a hotwife fantasy. My wife, Claire, has always known about it, but until recently, she’d pushed back against even the slightest suggestion of entertaining the idea, let alone acting on it.
Whenever I brought it up, she’d tell me I didn’t understand my own emotions. “You think it sounds exciting now,” she’d say, “but jealousy would eat you alive.”
She also worried that if she ever crossed that line, she might end up falling in love with someone else. “For me to do it, I’d have to be in love with the man.”
Other times she’d be more direct. “I don’t want to risk our marriage. What we have is too precious to test.”
That was how things stayed for years, but I never completely gave up hope. Every now and then I thought I could see her point of view shifting. Once in particular, I thought I’d come close.
A few years ago, just after the lockdowns, I suggested we book an adults-only cruise. To my surprise, she agreed, saying that if it meant that much to me, we should go. But when I was about to book the cruise, she changed her mind. She said she wouldn’t feel comfortable and worried about being pressured into something she didn’t genuinely want, and that was the end of it.
I accepted her decision and let the subject drop, although I made sure she knew the fantasy hadn’t gone away. I’d often bring up documentaries and films that touched on non-monogamy. I even showed her discussions I’d had on online forums and, at one point, bought a hotwife erotica novel. While I was away last year, she read it herself. When I got back, she admitted she’d enjoyed it, saying the characters felt believable and the story surprisingly arousing.
Even then, when I asked whether it had changed her mind, she still said no.
The only thing she added was that people sometimes surprise themselves, depending on the circumstances.
Then something happened earlier this week, on Monday. I’d spent almost a month back in the village where I’d grown up while she stayed in London, busy with work. We spoke every day, but it wasn’t until I got home that she told me one of her colleagues had asked her out.
“What did you say?” I asked immediately, my heart racing, my arousal unmistakable.
“I said no,” she replied.
Naturally, I wanted to know more. “Who is he?”
She didn’t really want to talk about him but eventually explained that he headed another department and that they’d recently been working together on a joint project. They’d got on well. He was about ten years younger than her.
“How did you know he was interested rather than just being friendly?” I asked.
She gave a small shrug. “A woman knows, Mark.”
She looked away, but I stepped in front of her, trying to catch her eye. “Knows? Come on… there’s more to it than that.”
She bit her lip, held my gaze for a moment and quietly said, “He put his hand on my leg.”
My stomach fluttered. I felt light-headed. I think I even reached for the kitchen counter to steady myself. For a moment everything seemed to blur.
I’d lived with this fantasy for so long, yet when there was the slightest chance my wife might actually entertain it, it wasn’t the arousal that overwhelmed me—although that was certainly there.
It was fear.
I can’t really describe it, Jeff. I still can’t explain it.
All I know is that, in that moment, fear completely overtook me.
“I pushed his hand away immediately,” she said.
My mouth had gone dry. “When… when did it happen?”
“We’d gone out for lunch together.” She rested a hand on my shoulder, her eyes meeting mine. “Nothing else happened. It was brief. Just a brush.” Her hand slipped from my shoulder, though she held my gaze.
Gradually, my heartbeat slowed, although the arousal lingered. I finally pulled myself together. “Why didn’t you tell me about him when we spoke on the phone?”
She shrugged. “It only happened last Tuesday.”
“But we spoke several times after that.”
She looked down. “I couldn’t answer him straight away.”
“You couldn’t?” My heart skipped a beat, the cold sensation of fear washing over me again.
She slowly shook her head. “I needed time.”
“So you thought about it? For days?”
She bit her lip, finally met my gaze, then nodded. “Yes.”
I swallowed hard. “Why did you turn him down? Because of me?”
Her answer caught me completely off guard. “Of course I care about you. But that’s not the main reason.” I must have looked puzzled because she continued. “I know our relationship is strong. I know about your fantasy. That’s not what worries me.”
“Then what does?”
She was quiet for a moment before she spoke. “People change.”
“You mean I’d become jealous?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean… I don’t know how I’d feel afterwards. I don’t know whether it would change me. Or us.”
“You find him attractive. You’re worried you might fall in love with him.”
“No,” she said almost in a whisper. She paused, biting her lip, then nodded. “All right, he’s attractive, but that’s not it. I barely know him. That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s afterwards. People change, Mark.”
We heard the children calling for us, and we made our way into the living room.
Our conversation lingered in my mind.
Part of me found her honesty reassuring. Another couldn’t stop thinking that she’d spent several days considering his invitation before deciding against it.
And then things moved a step further. On Wednesday, Claire came home late from work. She’d called earlier to say she was staying behind to finish some work on an important account.
When she finally got home, I asked as casually as I could, “Was Ricardo there?”
I’d begun to suspect Ricardo was the colleague who’d asked her out.
She looked momentarily caught off guard. I’d guessed correctly.
A faint blush coloured her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, then quickly added, “But there were other people around.”
I smiled. “Perhaps. But were the two of you the last to leave the office?”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
I pictured them sitting side by side at her desk, looking at the same computer screen. “He was sitting next to you?”
She nodded.
“And?”
She swallowed as her cheeks deepened to an even darker shade of red. “He put his hand on my thigh,” she said quietly.
I forced a chuckle, although my heart was pounding and I was intensely aroused. “You pushed his hand away immediately… didn’t you?”
She slowly shook her head. “No.”
I hadn’t expected that answer. Nor had I expected her honesty, or the calm, unapologetic way she said it.
For a long moment neither of us spoke. Her gaze remained fixed on mine, gentle but unwavering.
The bulge in my trousers was unmistakable, yet my heart was hammering so loudly I was convinced she could hear it.
“So… his hand stayed there?” I finally managed.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
She gave a small shrug. “For a while.”
I couldn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. For years I’d fantasised about something like this, so part of me found it unbelievably exciting.
At the same time, another emotion swept over me. The same one I’d felt a few days earlier.
Only stronger.
Fear.
Not jealousy. At least I don’t think it was jealousy.
Just…
fear.
Fear that the fantasy I’d kept safely locked inside my head for so many years might actually be becoming real.
“Did his hand just stay there?” I asked.
“It moved,” she said.
I don’t know what she meant.
Perhaps I don’t really want to know. All I know is that I found myself very aroused and strangely frightened at exactly the same time.
As though my mind wasn’t already in enough turmoil, she said something else. “Next Wednesday I’m being sent to Paris…” She paused. “With him.” She held my gaze without wavering.
I reached for the edge of the kitchen table and gripped it tightly. I needed something to steady myself. “For how long?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
She looked down at my hand, placed hers gently over it and slowly rubbed her thumb across my knuckles before looking back into my eyes. “We’ll be staying overnight.”
“I see.”
“In separate hotel rooms.”
“Yes.”
“There’ll be other colleagues there as well.” She let go of my hand and gently cupped my cheek for a moment, her eyes fixed on mine.
Neither of us wanted to break the silence. Finally, I did. “Do you think anything might happen?”
She looked away for a moment, then met my eyes again. “Do you want something to happen?”
Without thinking, I said, “Yes.”
I gripped the edge of the table even more tightly, my head spinning, my erection impossible to ignore.
She stood there quietly, her eyes full of love and understanding.
“Love,” I said, “you’ve always told me our relationship is strong. That we love each other deeply.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
“Then why hold back? Why not simply enjoy the experience?”
She looked at me for several seconds before replying, “Because people change.”
“You mean I might become jealous?”
She shook her head. “No. I know you think you want this.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I don’t know how I’d feel afterwards, Mark. People change after something like this. I just don’t know.”
She turned and walked into the living room to join the children.
Now I keep wondering whether I should’ve said no when she asked whether I wanted something to happen.
My mind has been full of questions.
Is she genuinely attracted to him, or is she simply flattered by the attention?
Is she avoiding intimacy with me this week because she’s exhausted after work, or because something has already changed inside her? We’ve been apart for nearly a month, yet she keeps saying she’s too tired and would rather wait until the weekend. That’s unusual for her.
So, Jeff, what do you make of all this?
Am I reading too much into her hesitation, or does it sound as though she’s genuinely wrestling with feelings she never expected to have?
Why do I feel both excitement and fear at exactly the same time? For years this has been my fantasy. Now that it feels closer to reality than ever before, I’m no longer sure how I want the story to end. Should I tell her I’ve changed my mind, or should I trust her and let whatever happens happen?
I’d appreciate your thoughts.
🔖 Want to know what happened next?
Mark has more questions than answers.
In the next confession, he’ll meet Ricardo face to face in an attempt to understand what really happened—and why Claire warned him that people change.
Part II of People Change will be published here next month.