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"Now ask yourself what will happen to your lovely life if your family discover that your charity work involves a naked Spaniard and Waitrose canapés? "
"Now ask yourself what will happen to your lovely life if your family discover that your charity work involves a naked Spaniard and Waitrose canapés? "
"Now ask yourself what will happen to your lovely life if your family discover that your charity work involves a naked Spaniard and Waitrose canapés? "
I am unsure if this is a confession or a plea for help. Earlier this year a tennis friend asked me to a girls’ lunch at a large house on the edge of town. I recognised some “yummy mummies” and other women I had seen in Waitrose, but not the men. There was lovely food and lots of wine. We began with games, which were good fun, involving clothes as forfeits. However, there was no pressure when I kept on my undies, although later I felt happy to conform. I then spent the afternoon on a sofa, talking to an art dealer, a very nice man, before leaving to pick up my youngest, and later my husband.
I was invited again. It was the same routine and when my art dealer friend appeared we embraced warmly. With not a stitch between us it led to sex, which I must confess I thoroughly enjoyed. I have since been to half a dozen lunches, and my new friends include a rather older but thoroughly charming Spaniard whose company gives me a lot of pleasure. Of course I meet some of the girls elsewhere but we use a code when our husbands are present. But now I am wondering about my life. I do some charity work, my watercolour classes and care for my husband, while our lovemaking has new depth. Nor do my children suffer. Is what I am doing so very wrong?
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