The Married Woman Who Sleeps With a Musician in Miami
This week’s sex diary.
In this week’s story, a woman who’s been happily married for 20 years has her first affair: 50, married, Miami.
DAY ONE
11:30 a.m. Touch down in Miami. I get to fly first class since work pays for my flight, so I land feeling like a million bucks. The flight from New York was short and I finished the audiobook for The Idea of You while in the air — I can’t wait for the movie to come out.
2 p.m. Unpacking at my hotel, I realize that I’m still horny from that book. When I was listening to it while driving recently, I literally masturbated in my car. I register my horniness but have to keep unpacking and answering work calls.
6 p.m. Quick chat with my husband about kid stuff. We have two teenagers in Brooklyn. We’re a happy, healthy family. My husband and I still like and love each other. Money is stressful as we prepare to send two kids off to college, and I’m the sole breadwinner, but I try to remind myself that it will all work out. There are plenty of people who have it way worse than us.
7 p.m. On my way out the door, I text my husband that I want to see The Idea of You when it comes out, and that I’m super-horny and wish he was here.
9 p.m. There’s a lot of Champagne at this dinner. I work in the music industry, and I’m here with an artist I know well — let’s call him Tommy. Tommy is married, but open, and exactly the heartthrob and sexy, artsy scumbag you might imagine him to be. He smokes, he drinks whiskey, he’s a singer-songwriter with a small cult following. There has always been sexual tension between us, but I am a professional, and though he’s flirted with me, I’ve never given him any hope. But I feel looser about my rules tonight. As the Champagne flows and Tommy charms the table (mostly people from our label), something lusty washes over me.
11 p.m. Back at the hotel, a few of us decide to take a midnight swim. Tommy and I are the last to stay up.
12 a.m. In the hot tub now. We’re both drunk. He says something like, “Should we do something about this sexual energy once and for all?” He doesn’t touch me and isn’t aggressive. The ball is entirely in my court. I respond with something cheesy, like, “Your place or mine?” The next thing I know, we’re stumbling into his room.
DAY TWO
9 a.m. I wake in my own bed, shaky from last night. I feel overwhelmed. Jittery. Like I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s not a good feeling or a bad feeling. It’s just intense.
10 a.m. No one can know exactly what happened last night, so I carefully text my husband and my teenage sons about how my first night in Miami was. I am here for a work event and some work meetings. I’m on the events side of things, like music festivals and fundraisers, so I travel frequently. In my texts I try to sound just like I do when I travel anywhere else.
2 p.m. After two Zooms from my hotel room, I lie down to try and rest. I didn’t get much sleep last night. I cheated on my husband for the first time ever. We’ve been together for 20 years, and I’ve never crossed this line before. In Tommy’s hotel room, we basically stripped our wet bathing suits off right away, he put on a condom, and we fucked like rabbits. His dick was as big and strong as I thought it would be, and the sex felt incredibly good. I’m a 50-year-old woman who’s been with the same man (a good man who is a “decently okay” lover, I’d say) for 20 years. So yeah, the night was pretty mind-blowing.
6 p.m. I have to spend the rest of the night with Tommy. I am hoping we can both play it cool. Last night, I just had one of those YOLO moments. I decided a night of rock-star sex in Miami would not be a big deal. And maybe it’s not.
9 p.m. Tommy is now performing at this mansion, and I’m backstage thinking about everything but also desperate for my bed. I’m so tired. I assure myself that I have no romantic feelings toward him. Nothing needs to change here. It’s all good.
11 p.m. I duck out of the event a bit early, because I have an assistant who can cover the rest. I hug Tommy good-bye, and it’s a very warm and normal moment. It’s kind of amazing how nothing about this is weird at all. I go home to sleep.
DAY THREE
7 a.m. We have early meetings today with Tommy and some collaborators. I don’t know how rock stars party all night and wake up fresh as daisies. I’ve seen it with so many of them. Superhumans. I’m well-rested today, at least.
9 a.m. At our second breakfast, Tommy and I are sitting next to each other and our knees are touching. I’m extremely turned on by this. And I honestly don’t feel that guilty about the other night. The only crazy thing for me is knowing that I’ve slept with another man. Like, I’m that woman. I don’t judge myself negatively for it, but there’s just a shift in my interior life. Now, I have a secret.
1 p.m. A few of us are having mimosas by the pool. We don’t have any obligations until much later tonight. After two drinks and way too much sun, I allow myself to think about having afternoon sex with Tommy. He’s laying out right next to me, and I think it would be as easy as saying, “I’m going up for a nap.” And he’d probably follow. No one is really around us, and the people who are around us are younger, and on their phones, and are probably secretly fucking each other as well.
1:30 p.m. I drink one more mimosa and then I say, “I’m going upstairs to chill for a bit.” And I give Tommy a look. We both smirk. No one notices a thing. No one gives a shit about what the 50-year-old married boss is doing.
2 p.m. Tommy knocks. I let him in. We’ve spent hours and hours in hotel rooms together talking about work, doing Zooms, being friends. I try to stay in that place, to not make it weird, but the minute he enters the room we start kissing. We both taste like orange juice.
We have another round of incredible sex. He wears a condom. There is only so much I can do because I don’t really want him to see my body … so riding him on top is not an option, and that’s my favorite position. But instead we do it doggy style, and even though I don’t come, it’s super-enjoyable.
4 p.m. After a little nap, for real this time, I wake up to Tommy kissing me and then he starts going down on me. I’m slightly self-conscious since I’m a bit sweaty down there (thank you, hot flashes!), but I let it all go.
9 p.m. We all head to Tommy’s second and last private show for this trip. He goes off to do sound check while I catch up on work and life emails and texts.
11 p.m. As I hear him perform, I smile to myself, knowing — at least for this week — he’s my lover.
DAY FOUR
9 a.m. Another restful night alone in my hotel room. I left early again. No need to stay up until three when I have a staff to do that.
3 p.m. It’s our last full day here, so my team and I are all getting massages at the hotel spa. While lying there, I ask if I can add an extra hour on. She says an hour is impossible, but she’ll do another 20 minutes. I’ll take what I can get.
6 p.m. Group dinner, Tommy included, at a nice restaurant. Tommy gets noticed by a few people, and I feel this extra sense of pride, considering his dick was inside me just yesterday.
9 p.m. At dinner we all talk about our love lives. My shit is boring to everyone, which is fine. Tommy talks about his wife in L.A., who is of course a model, and how they fight a lot and fuck a lot, and it’s all very stupid and clichéd sounding. I’m glad I’m not the wife. None of that lifestyle interests me. I love being a Brooklyn mom with a sweet husband. I feel slightly guilty in this moment of contemplation, but not really.
10 p.m. Everyone is spent. We all go home to our own beds and call it a night.
DAY FIVE
10 a.m. A good-bye text from Tommy, who heads to the airport earlier than me. It’s a cute text. Something like, “This was fun. You’re sexy as hell. See ya in Austin.” We’re going there in a few months for another round of private shows.
12 p.m. I’m in a car to the airport. I really like how it played out with Tommy. I like his style. Nothing was heavy, and yet it all felt meaningful. I have no worries about getting caught at home, and I feel zero romantic attachment to Tommy. Nothing is holding me back from returning to my real life.
5 p.m. When I get back to my apartment, it’s very clean and there’s a “Welcome Home Mom” sign on the front door. I can’t believe my teenage sons are still so sweet to their mother. I’m very blessed.
7 p.m. The boys all roll in, husband included, and I have a home-cooked dinner on the table. We hug and talk about our week. It’s not hard to sound normal for me. I tell them everything that happened besides the sex stuff. No one suspects anything, and my husband is just happy I’m home.
10 p.m. In bed, my husband wants to have sex, but I feel a little strange doing it so close to the Tommy stuff. It feels dirty and unfair to my husband. Yes, Tommy and I used protection, but I feel I should give it a few days. So instead I blame it on sheer exhaustion, and we go to sleep without any issues.
DAY SIX
10 a.m. It’s the weekend. I’ve already run to the bagel store and bought fresh fruit, and I’m waiting for the boys to wake up. My husband is playing basketball with his friends as he does every Saturday morning.
1 p.m. I am thinking about getting tested for STIs, but I’m so old I don’t even know where to go for that, or how to do it. Is there an app for this shit now? I think my husband will want to have sex tonight, and I’m not sure I can come up with another excuse without hurting his feelings or seeming off.
5 p.m. The day flies by with soccer games and birthday parties, and ultimately I never test for anything. We did use protection. I’m sure it’s okay.
10 p.m. My husband and I are in bed, and I tell him I want to blow him. I go down on him for about five minutes, and he says he wants to fuck. So we do. It’s nice to be with him. We fall asleep in each other’s arms.
DAY SEVEN
9 a.m. My in-laws are coming here today from Ohio. The boys and I blast some music and prepare to clean the house together. The artist they’re playing is someone I’ve worked with before, which my boys are totally unimpressed by, but my husband starts to ask me about.
10 a.m. The conversation eventually shifts to Tommy. He asks me if he’s still married to the model and what’s going on with them. It’s just basic small talk. My husband and Tommy have met a few times, and they could not be more different. My husband is a sweet intellectual who never figured out the career stuff but has been “working on a novel” for 20 years, and Tommy is, well … you saw what Tommy is like.
3 p.m. My in-laws are arriving around dinnertime, and I could really use some “me time.” It’s been a big week. I decide to take a long walk and listen to music.
5 p.m. When I get back from my walk, I am slightly reinvigorated. If I was from another generation, maybe I’d give in to these feelings of unease — maybe I’d call myself dysregulated — but instead, I decide to completely move on from whatever happened in Miami and keep on trucking in my regular life with my regular people.
8 p.m. My in-laws look older than the last time we saw them around Thanksgiving. We’re all getting older. My kids will be off to college soon. As I sit at dinner, I kind of want to cry, but instead, I heat up some pie and ask, “Who’s ready for dessert?”
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