My childhood was good, although I was the only child of rather peculiar parents. They always had people over, with whom they stayed up late drinking and I don't know what else. In primary school my 'true love' emigrated and in secondary school I was too insecure and invisible to experience anything, although I got deflowered on a school ski trip in my final year. When I arrived in Leiden, everything changed for the better. I felt great, went out and joined a student union. Sadly, my father passed away when I was 20, after which my mother set off to a monastery in Tibet. I was on my own, but I would make it, and I did. My mother sends me a card every year on my birthday, I am practically an orphan.

Before I fell in love with Steven, I had two long relationships and a tempestuous time as a bachelor. There have been one-night stands I can't remember, and numerous brief but enervating affairs with men of various kinds. During my internship at a museum in Milan I enjoyed la dolce vita to the fullest and had an Italian admirer on every finger.
On my return I had to finish my thesis and soon met my future husband at the graduation party of a mutual friend, Tessa's husband. I asked Tessa who this blonde god was, she introduced us, and we spent the rest of the evening together on the dance floor. We immediately had a special bond because Steven is also an only child and an orphan. His parents died in a car accident when he was eight, after which he was taken in by his grandmother. We became inseparable and started a new life.

In the beginning Steven and I sexed the plaster off the walls, as we should. Nowadays our sex repertoire is wearing thin, we never use toys or our imagination and we only know three positions. Every now and then I buy lingerie, mostly for my own pleasure. If we have to go on like this for another thirty years, that is a frightening thought. Steven is not going to appreciate me looking for a lover, to put it mildly. Although he is the one who has made the occasional misstep, like 'accidentally' ending up with a prostitute after a drunken night out with friends, or in the toilet with a blonde slut at a veterans' hockey tournament. I forgave him and it is almost forgotten.

The best sex I have is with myself. I started masturbating at an early age and have been doing it faithfully ever since, by hand and on lazy days with a vibrator. I know exactly how to give myself a slow or fast orgasm and regard my intimate sessions as gifts. With my extensive mental porn library I create the most wonderful imaginings, unhindered by guilt, shame or impossibilities. Rape, group sex, women with dildos, everything is acceptable.

My cheating is limited to a very naughty kiss from a neighbour on Queen's Day and my old flame Victor. We had a tumultuous relationship, me the budding academic and him the lead singer of a punk band. My only problem was that Victor also shared his self-made bed with other women and was completely open about it. A monogamous relationship with him was out of the question and seemed to be the only option for me. Five years ago, I met him by chance in a pub in Amsterdam, where I had ended up with my girlfriends after a performance in the Delamar Theatre. He still was ferociously attractive and managed to get me all nostalgic. He said I had become a right-winger by marrying a banker, and we laughed about it. Like teenagers we dove into the alley behind the pub where we made out. With his arms around me, greedy but gentle. His hands had slid over my breasts, and he said they were as firm as they had been then. We exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet again to relive old times. Neither of us got in touch. 

I open an incognito tab, just like when I watch porn, and find my way to the lobby of the biggest cheaters' club in the Netherlands. Flirting is not just for singles! Sign up now for free. More than 600,000 people have joined! A good-looking man and a woman sit at a table, casting each other a puckish glance. It looks as innocent as a romantic film, and I click through to create a profile.
My name? I can't log in as myself, but who am I? Who do I want to be?
Julie? She was my flamboyant grandmother, the subject of many wild family stories.
Sabine? The prettiest girl at school.
Or Marise? A sultry corruption of my own name that I used in Italy.
Yes, it'll be 'Marise'. I say it out loud a few times and it fits me like a glove again. I also need a surname and choose 'van der Boom'. I like trees because they are so soothingly sturdy. Marise needs her own e-mail address, but that too is easily arranged.

A list appears with tick-box questions about my own and desired body characteristics, traits, hobbies and, without embarrassment, the intended sex. Once or more often? Dominant? Bisexual? Role-playing? The list is endless, I am not sure what to choose, so tick 'all'. There's also some space for my own text, I just don't have the patience to think of anything. I want to feel tingling between my thighs, so I put that down. I cut off a pretty photo in a black cocktail dress above the knee, and add my lower legs with to my profile. I am pleased with the result and lean back to enjoy the moment. A shiver runs down my spine and gives me goosebumps.
I let out a deep sigh and hit 'send'.
'Welcome to Secret Love, your profile is online!'
I am in.

The homepage features a number of men.
'Nice, charming man looking for more excitement', 'Young, sporty guy looking for titillating woman', 'Connoisseur hoping to find his match' and other variations on 'romantic and a bit naughty'. Almost all pictures are blurry, especially those with faces. Clicking through I get the profile text, sexual preferences checkboxes and the option to send a message or befriend them, so we can see each other's photos. I ask the search engine for men aged between 25 and 50 in my own province, the only filters available. Hundreds pop up and their profiles offer as little guidance as mine. I smile at men who clearly have a sense of humour and good linguistic skills. Words full of promise of being pampered, cherished and loved. Sadly, there are also men with texts full of spelling mistakes and toe-curling descriptions of what they miss in their marriage or life. Hidden behind Marise I am allowed to browse this candy store, searching for the tastiest sweets. The beeping of the washing machine distracts me and in the laundry room I take a good look in the mirror. I am over forty and it shows, without make-up I look a bit pale and a visit to the hairdresser is urgently needed.

Chat bars appear at the bottom of the screen and something flashes in my inbox. The men have spotted me and are jumping into action. I open a chat bar where an XLlover kindly greets me with 'Hi, Marisa'. John80 then? I click on his name and his profile opens in split screen. He is 34 years old and looking for a woman who likes oral sex.
J: Hello there ... lovely lady. Did you just look at my profile?
M: Absolutely.
J: I like your pumps.
M: Thanks.
J: Have you been on SL for a long time?
M: No, first day. Really.
J: A warm welcome to you, my dear!
M: Haha.
J: Promise to watch out for the creeps.
M: I will.
J: I am a sweetheart. And a bit naughty.
M: Does this work?
J: Buckle up, the game is on. Join the fun!
M: Exciting.
J: Have you got wet panties yet?
M: I think so.
J: I want to make sure, feel it.
I feel the sex animal in me awakening. I sink down and slide my left hand inside my panties, moaning as I circle my clit.
J: Well? Hurry up!
M: Yes!
J: Are you sticking a finger in?
M: Mmm.
J: You are a horny chick.
That is true, but I quickly remove my hand from my trousers, somewhat startled by this sexy scene in my neat living room. I close the curtains, take another sip of my coffee and rise to the challenge.
J: ??
M: Are you having fun?
J: You bet, I want to fuck you.
M: You're going to get me, aren't you?
J: I can't wait any longer, I am going to push myself inside.
M: Mmm ... yes ... fuck me ... deeper.
J: I fuck you hard.
M: How big you are!
J: Oh yes, my salacious little slut.
M: You're going to come ... give it to me!
J: Aaaahhhhh.
It is tingling between my thighs and with a few firm taps on my clit I bring myself to a climax. He sends some more messages telling me how much he enjoyed it and that I am a horny bitch. I reply with a blushing emoticon and tap 'gotta go' underneath. I have four new messages, and I don't feel like chatting with John. A warm glow ripples through my body, like a vortex around my pussy where all the muscles are still contracting longingly.

The first is from Rob: 'Dear Marise, your pumps are so gorgeous! And those lovely calves above them. I'd love to bite them and then also take care of those tingles between your thighs. Will you send me a message? Love, Rob'.
I click through to the next one: 'Dear Marisa, I can make you tingle, you know. Just say where and when. x Evan'.
Next: 'Mmm... who's got those yummy legs? Are you a naughty girl? Probably ... with your tingles. Do you know this place is teeming with lustful men? You go for it, just watch out. x Mark'.
And the last one: 'Dear Marise, I really like your profile. I am looking for a mistress in her forties who is not too fat. Judging from your photo, you are in great shape. Perhaps we could meet? Regards, Henri'.

Within ten minutes of being online, I received more indecent proposals than in the previous ten years. 'Just say where and when'. Yeah, right, bye Evan.
Above his post, next to the 'reply' button, I see one that says, 'No thanks'.
I click on it and see a standard message: 'Dear Evan, thanks for your message. We are not a match, but I am sure you will find someone on Secret Love. Best wishes, Marise'
I send the direct refusal to both Evan and Henri.

Rob's profile says: '46 years old, 1.81-1.90 m and 91-100 kg, North Brabant, married. Interested in skiing, football, bondage and threesomes.'
I am dealing with a slightly overweight and ordinary Brabander, looking for an adventure with a woman who likes oral sex and is good with her hands. Committed to hygiene and discretion. His own text adds little: 'Happily married, but still looking for some excitement and variety. I'd like to have dinner with you to see if there's a spark.'
Not an immediate contender, especially given the 'committed to hygiene' part, which I find a downright turn-off. As if I would appear unwashed in front of my potential lover. Rob also gets a 'no thanks'.

Mark's profile is more interesting. He posted a picture of his mouth with beautiful lips, smiling mischievously. '50 years old, 1.91-2.00 m, 81-90 kg, South Holland, LAT'.
I read that he is divorced and now in an open relationship. He is looking for a charming woman with a strong spirit. A threesome with his partner Sarah is among the possibilities. My interest is piqued, so I reply: 'Green as grass, but not afraid of men. I'd love some advice from an expert. x Marise'.

New messages keep pouring in and four chat bars are flashing, but I really need to take William for a walk. Hours have gone by, and I could use some fresh air. The dachshund is already at the door, in the mirror I see a lovely blush on my cheeks. I smile to myself and straighten my shoulders, as Marise would do.
On autopilot I walk our lap through the woods. At the dog's playground I contemplate my sins and try to understand what I have started.