At 10:30 PM I pulled into the driveway. There was a note on the refrigerator door: "Honey, I made the kids' lunches and went to bed early." Thank God.

I crawled into bed, not touching Dan's back. What would I say to him in the morning? Between the bacon and eggs, would he be able to read my thoughts? Would the glow on my face give me away? How would I 'deglow' myself? Could I act like a loving wife? I guess I'll figure it out, I said to myself. I've been acting that role for years. I thought of T.S. Eliot's Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,

There will be time, there will be time,
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet....

I spent the better part of the night imagining all kinds of morning scenarios with Dan. It was a lot more fun writing haiku's at Waban Lake than obsessing in bed next to my husband. The whole thing gave me a headache.

I stayed in bed, my eyes closed. Dan got up, kissed me on the forehead and sent the kids off to school. After he had left for work I called the office. I told them that I had a doctor's appointment and would be late.

I went downstairs. There was a note on the dining room table from Dan: "Sorry I missed you last night. Have a good day." Great, just what I needed - a nice husband the morning after I made love to another man!

I felt a sudden urge to write again. I pulled out my journal.

September 25

Okay, so he's a sweet guy. I need more than sweet. I need what I had yesterday - poetry and passion. I didn't know until I had it how desperately I needed it. It may have been the most incredible day of my entire life. I made love to a man who made me feel myself. I was me, I discovered myself - I was full of fire and love and excitement. Why shouldn't I have that? Don't I deserve that? What did I do to deserve deadness and dullness? Why do I have to live with that the rest of my life?

So Dan's a good father. He's an okay husband. I need a lover, not just a good husband and father. Is it a crime to want to feel my deepest self? Maybe this will be better for Dan, too. He just can't do it for me. It's not his fault. That's all he has to offer. It's warm, it's comfortable. I need depth and sensitivity. I need fire. I need soul. I'm not really cheating on Dan. Until now I've been cheating myself.

Maybe it will be better for the marriage. The problem with our marriage has been me. Dan thinks that things are just fine. I've been the one wanting more. Well, maybe I've wanted something from Dan that he just can't give. If he doesn't have it in him to satisfy me, why demand it from him? As long as I have what I need with Eric I don't have to expect Dan to give me what he can't. I can appreciate Dan for who he is - a good father and a nice guy. Dan will feel less pressure and I'll feel less critical.

I'm not about to run off with Eric. I know it sounds crazy but this may be the perfect solution to our marriage and my sanity. I can keep my marriage. Maybe it will even get better. I'll be a good wife at home and get what I really need from someone else. I'll be happy and satisfied and it will rub off on Dan and the kids.

There is no way I am giving up this man.

The day was rough. I cleaned the house for a while (symbolically, like Lady Macbeth?) before I finally left for work. But as soon as I was out of the driveway, at every traffic light along the way, the face that I saw in my mind's eye was not Dan's glaring at me in guilt, but Eric's. I imagined his smile, his laugh, I felt his hand on mine. I relived the sensations of the day before, over and over again. I could taste his lips on mine, his legs pressing against my thighs. I almost caused a traffic accident as I relived one particular moment. "Hey, Stupid!" the guy in the other car shouted at me.

I arrived at the office, two hours late and a nervous wreck. I felt as if a scarlet letter was embroidered on my breast. Would I blush as I walked through the reception area? I met a few colleagues in the elevator who were having a heated discussion about an account that had just walked away from us. They were looking for a scapegoat. Listening to them at least got my mind off Eric for a while.

But not for long. There it was, on top of my pile of messages. Just "Eric" and his number. What did my secretary, Julie, think when she took that message, I thought. Usually it comes with more information. Just "Eric" this time. Stop obsessing, I told myself.

I made myself a cup of coffee and closed my office door, a sign to all that I wanted some peace and quiet. I made the phone call. Eric answered immediately. He sounded a little rushed but I heard him say to someone, "Let me look this over. Come back in about an hour." A door shut somewhere in the background. "Carmen?" His voice was so soft. I drifted back to the hotel. "How are you?"

The words choked in my throat. "Fine. How are you?"

"Carmen," Eric continued, "what happened last night was no one-night stand. When can we see each other again?"

What should I respond? My mind raced. Floundered, actually, is a better word. Stuttered? "Uh, I don't know."

"I might be in town again next week. I miss you."

"I miss you too," I whispered. "Call me when you know your plans. I have a meeting now. Bye."

I hung up. My hands shook. Focus, I said. And guess what we'll be discussing at the meeting - the deal I signed yesterday with Eric. How will I get through that?

Julie popped her head in the door. "Meeting in five," she said. I checked my papers, grabbed my coffee, and walked down the hall. One thing I didn't want to do this morning was make an entrance. Be calm. Don't flutter. Don't stammer. And for God's sake, don't blush! Visualize a cold stream, snow, ice. Just get through this without anyone suspecting.

I sat down next to the chair at the head of the table and the room began to fill up. We made small talk about someone's renovated boat and about a new advertising trade magazine. I'm doing okay, I thought. I'm natural. Just let it hold.

The deal with Eric's company was fourth on the agenda. We breezed through topics one and two, got bogged down on the third for a while and moved on to the fourth. I pulled out the papers, handed out copies of some small last minute changes I had approved and gave a concise summation. My boss smiled, said, "Good work. Okay, next..." I gave an inward sigh of relief.

Until Cal caught my eye. "Hey, Carmen, good work. We've been trying to close that deal for two months. Was there the hint of a question in Cal's eyes? If so, it wasn't pronounced enough to react to. I prayed inside, "God, don't let me blush."

Three more topics, announcements, an invitation to Patrick's Sunday brunch and the meeting concluded. I managed to smile and chat my way out of the room and down the hall into the ladies room. I enclosed myself in a stall and stood there, leaning against the door and breathing deeply, feeling the blood rush to my head. The outside door opened. Two of the women who had been in the meeting walked in. I waited till they left and then came out.

I managed to walk down the hall, get through the rest of the day, drive home and whip up a light supper. Fortunately the kids were home - no scout cookouts or parties tonight - so I didn't have to face Dan alone across the table.

We turned in early. I felt Dan's hand on my shoulder. He had been so sweet at dinner. I'm sure he couldn't comprehend my reticence. But I couldn't do it. I claimed exhaustion.

Shades of T.S. Eliot again, I thought. I guess I was just tired of measuring out my life in coffee spoons.