Caught in the Act and Craved More

I’m forty-five and a college professor. My department had its annual retreat at a secluded resort last week. The place was so isolated, it felt like anything could happen there without consequence. Well, one evening, after the group dinner, I found myself alone with my closest colleague, Marcus. We’ve been friends for years but never crossed any lines until that night. Over drinks, we shared more than just wine; our mutual attraction became undeniable. As the room dimmed around us, we didn’t just kiss, we dove into each other’s mouths and hands, exploring every inch of skin exposed by our casual resort wear. I felt his fingers press against me, teasing my body in ways that made it impossible to wait another moment before we undressed completely. We moved onto the bed, where things became intensely intimate yet surprisingly tender. There was a point when Marcus whispered how much he’d wanted this for years but never found the courage. I confessed back that my defenses had been up until now because of my age and status as an unmarried woman in academia. But once we started, there was no looking back. I felt every thrust, each groan matching mine, our bodies connecting deeply, skin slick with sweat. We made love for hours before reality set in, the professional life we’d disrupt if it became known. I haven’t told anyone about this night yet, but I feel a strange pull to seek out that feeling again, even risking it all. Is what we did normal? Or am I crossing some invisible line here?