I had a boyfriend who caught me cheating once. He didn’t catch me in the act: They missed each other by less than 10 minutes, like something out of a British bedroom farce. Only in those stories, the damning evidence is an errant silk stocking or an overlooked handkerchief.
In my less classy story, boyfriend walked into bedroom, then walked back out, looked me in the eye and said, “Tell me why it smells like sex in there.”
Any hope I had of an elaborate cover-up was ruined by the look on my face.