One minute to go and Katherine was the highest bidder. She upped her limit by another £50 and repeatedly hit the refresh button on her keyboard.
‘I must get it’. This jacket had sold out in the shops. ‘EBay’ was her only hope.
‘Shit!’ It was the doorbell. It began to ring continuously and Katherine had to get it.
‘Alright! Alright, I’m coming’ She raced to the door and flung it open.
‘Oh God, Stefan. Have you lost your keys again? ’ Katherine irritated by her husband for interrupting her at such a crucial moment. She turned and fled back to her laptop in the dining room.
‘On the bloody computer again’ muttered Stefan left standing alone in the porch. He dropped his briefcase to the floor, hung up his coat and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the glass door of the oven and took the shrivelled remains of his dinner into the dining room. 
As soon as he sat down Katherine began to gather up her things. She blamed it on Stefan that she hadn’t won the jacket. She couldn’t bear to near him, the way he ate so fast, snorting with his mouth open. She had once been in awe of this and believed it exhibited his vast appetite for life; nowadays it was easier for her to prevent any nausea by leaving the room.
She flopped on to the sofa and picked up the TV and listings guide.  The twins were asleep in bed and she finally had some time to herself. There didn’t seem to be much on tonight that interested her so she decided to flick through the guide itself. Brighton Festival was coming up and she checked to see if there were any details.  She remembered just a few years ago when she had seen the ‘Afro Cuban All Stars’ with Stefan and what a great night they’d had as they had clumsily attempted to salsa dance. These days Stefan didn’t even bother to mention the festival and Katherine would much rather go out with one of her girlfriends. 
Deciding not to investigate further, she continued to flick through. An advert caught her eye - Illicit Liaisons - brief encounters for those who are otherwise attached. She smiled to herself intrigued by the idea that such an agency existed.
‘What are you smiling about?’ Stefan made her jump as he crept into the lounge.
‘Nothing’
‘Anything good on TV?’
‘Not really’
‘I must tell you about this bloke today at work then. Do you remember I said we were implementing phase two of the metaphonic project?’
‘No, not really’ Katherine annoyed that he had not given her an option but had decided to tell her about this anyway.
‘Well, this bloke, Tom, decided to change phase one without telling anyone or documenting it. So when we entered phase two on to the system..................................
Katherine felt her mind wandering; she had no interest in Stefan’s main interest –work, and was slowly tuning out. She picked up the remote control and averted her eyes to the television.
‘You’re not even listening are you?’ Stefan’s voice suddenly intruded.
‘Sorry Stefan. Look, I’ve just had one hell of a day and to be honest this is my only time to relax’
‘At least I’m making an effort, unlike you’
‘Mmmmm’ Katherine nodded; unconcerned. Then added ‘I’m off to bed, goodnight’
She made her way to the spare room, but as she slept there every night, she really considered it to be her bedroom. Originally she had slept there on the odd occasion when Stefan’s snoring had kept her awake. Then, when they had had the twins, she had gone in there so as not to disturb Stefan when she was getting up for the night feeds. Now, she felt it was her one and only sanctuary.
She put on her old BVI T shirt and climbed on the bed.  The T shirt she had bought when they had sailed in the Caribbean, a remnant from when there had once been exploration and adventure in her marriage. She hardly ever wore it but it held too many memories to throw it away.  Next to her bed lay a pile of papers, magazines and books, her essential aids to give her hope and peace of mind before sleeping.  She picked up a magazine and browsed through. It was then that she came across the article ‘Affairs with a difference’.  It showed various photos - one woman, bisexual, with a secret lesbian lover, a swinging couple in an open relationship and finally an ordinary looking woman who had affairs with married men but had no intention of leaving her own marriage. The common denominator among them being that they all stated how their lifestyle choices had made their marriages much stronger and even happier. To the side of the article were website links for further information and straight away she was led to www.illicitliaisons.co.uk
Katherine turned on her laptop and waited with anticipation for it to boot up.  As soon as she was connected she typed in the URL and was pleased to discover it was one of those websites where she didn’t have to register her details and could browse freely. There were very few photos attached to profiles and even though she understood why, she found it highly disappointing. Thankfully the profiles more than made up for it and as she devoured the details she realised she could have written each and every one of them.  Intrigued, time sped by and she found herself on page seventeen of the men aged 40-49 profiles when the bedroom door suddenly burst open. Immediately she closed the website and composed herself as if still casually reading the magazine.
‘Katherine, I can’t find my keys anywhere. Are you sure you didn’t move them?’
‘Stefan, when will you ever learn I never touch your stuff - OK.  Goodnight’ and pushed the door after he had left so it closed firmly behind him.
The next morning, with the twins in nursery, Katherine logged on straight away. Her mind was made up; she would sign up to Illicit Liaisons but would be careful to protect her identity.  She was 38 but thought she could pass as younger so decided to put herself down as 32, described her greying long hair as dark and her larger figure as voluptuous. She decided she would use the name Christel as she liked the exotic ring to it. After several attempts she composed an ad:
‘Dark haired voluptuous female, married, 32, seeks professional male for no strings fun.’
Fun being the key factor she required and missing from her marriage. Katherine and Stefan had both found themselves in stereotypical traditional roles, their individual identities swallowed up by the daily grind of commuting, work, child care and domestic issues. Not only that but it had become a competition of who was the most tired or who had been working the hardest. Unable to elicit any sympathy for the other, they were both caught up in their own self pity with no real reason for it. 
She could hardly eat all day, knowing that she was about to cross ‘that line’ and was filled with both dread and excitement. When she logged on again that afternoon she found she had one message and, with her right hand slightly shaking, she double clicked on it.
-Hi my name is Mark. I saw your profile and would like to get to know you better. I’ll tell you a bit about myself. I am 42 and work as a project manager in the City. I am in a non physical relationship with my wife of twelve years. I like running, tennis and skiing. Like you, I am looking for some discreet fun.

After several attempts, trying not to sound too corny or desperate, she emailed back.
-Hi Mark, I’ve been married for twelve years too. Maybe the seven year itch should be renamed the twelve year itch!! Our marriage is also non physical and we live mainly independent lives. We stay together mostly because of the children. I used to be quite sporty and still quite enjoy cycling, skiing and swimming.
-You sound pretty fit.
He had replied so quickly and when Katherine looked at the icon she could see he was on line right now.
-Well, I used to be. I would describe myself as curvy, a real woman! How about you?
-You sound gorgeous. I would have once described myself as tall, dark and handsome, now I would say I’m tall, grey and distinguished.
-Just my type
Katherine felt an excitement stir in her that she hadn’t felt for a long time. She like this fantasy, the freedom of being anyone she wanted to be. She soon found she was ‘chatting’ to Mark every day, him at work and her at home, each email getting more flirtatious. It added a brightness to her day. Stefan even noticed. ‘You’re not as moody as usual’ he had commented at the weekend as they had enjoyed rather than endured a family day out at ‘The Pier’.
The more she got to know Mark, she realised they had much in common. They both lived in Brighton, had travelled to many of the same places, liked similar music and had both studied at the University of Sussex.
-What year?
-1988-1991. What about you?
That was the same year as her and Stefan. She couldn’t think of any ‘Marks’ she had known back then but she’d have to be careful and decided to embellish the truth again.
-  1992-1995.
She found out about all the problems in his marriage, very similar to hers and she told him his wife sounded cold and wrapped up in herself.
After a few weeks it was inevitable that their ‘talk’ would lead to suggestions of meeting up. Both reluctant to exchange photos, Katherine didn’t want to spoil the fantasy, so neither pressured the other. Increasingly though, the fantasies became too distracting and Katherine knew she wanted to meet him for real. So it was her who organised the meeting-Tuesday, 11am at Starbucks, Churchill Square, an informal environment where they could feel both comfortable and inconspicuous.  He would put a green umbrella and a copy of The Guardian on his table and she would hold a red carrier bag so they would recognise each other.
Most of Monday night, Katherine lay awake, tormented by agonizing and rationalizing, recurring thoughts of ‘I shouldn’t meet him. I should. It could save my marriage. It could end my marriage.’ She was glad when Tuesday morning eventually arrived, if only just to get the meeting over with so she could sleep again. After seven outfit changes and a constant feeling of being unable to go through with it, she headed to Churchill Square. Her stomach churned as she entered Starbucks and her eyes scanned the tables as she stood in the queue. It was busy, mums and toddlers, school kids but over on the left, hidden under the stairs, there was a man sitting by himself.

The nausea which had been subtly waiting suddenly rose to her mouth with a violent thump as she immediately recognised the thinning patches of grey hair - Stefan. ‘What was he doing here?’The last person she wanted to see. ‘Why the hell wasn’t he at work?’  She wanted to run but stood frozen to the spot as if in a bad dream. Just at the same time, he spotted her and didn’t look pleased to see her either. He stood up and began to make his way towards her and it was then that she noticed the green umbrella and Guardian on his table.
 As he approached her his eyes shifted from her red plastic carrier bag to her face. Exhaling forcefully through a small gap between his lips and raising his eyebrows, he looked directly at her as if for the first time.
 ‘Coffee?’ 
‘Latte please’