7 Tales of Sex and Betrayal Page 2

  I turned around and headed back in their direction, but they were so absorbed in one another that neither of them felt me moving in on them. Walking with purpose, I came within striking range and with as much force as I could muster, I slapped my husband’s face. Before either of them had time to react, I turned and slapped hers as well. Then I turned on my heel and walked to the ladies’ room.

  Once alone behind the door, I stood over the sink and looked at my reflection in the big mirror. A calm-looking woman peered back at me. My image was much calmer than I felt, although I did feel good. I laughed at my image and got a kick out of seeing myself laugh so loudly. The slaps must have released all that pent-up energy.

  She walked through the door and joined me at the sink. Dabbing her face with powder from a slim black compact, she was leaning into the mirror under the mellow light. We regarded each other’s reflections for a moment. The glass was tinted, making us both appear unnaturally tanned, like we’d just returned from a holiday.

  ‘He’s all yours,’ she said simply before dropping her compact in her purse, tidying her hair and leaving the room.

  Sure he is, I thought. But the question was: Did I want him?

  He was waiting for me outside. He grabbed me and pressed me to his chest. I knew the routine. He’d look closely into my eyes and smile that charming smile of his. Then he’d kiss me tenderly, holding me tight. Giving me that sense of security that I so loved.

  Then he released me a little and looked earnestly at me saying, ‘But you know I love you.’

  Chloe

  He considered himself to be a happily married man. A man who had no intention of, nor need for, amorous adventures. Leading a busy life, he had little time to speculate about such matters. Besides, he had Chloe. She was sensual as well a sexual, a truly beautiful creature. With Chloe as his wife, he had all he ever needed. She was all he would ever need.

  Being in a strange Asian city was not a new experience. How often had he rejected his host’s offer of lithe, almond-eyed young women who had acted as dinner escorts, but who placed inviting hands on his thighs under the table? Had he not been surprised by their seeming innocence, their winning smiles, soft voices yet bold hints of desire and passion?

  But he had rejected their advances with the self-confidence of a man truly secure in his virility. With his strong sense of integrity, he had also dismissed any connotations of prudery. His host had suggested a spa and massage before dinner. Since the long flight had tired him, he accepted without hesitation. He would enjoy the spa and massage, which would relax him, but it would go no further. To ward of his host’s hints and winks, he spoke deliberately about Chloe, his loyal and loving wife in the most tender manner

  In the limousine on the way to their destination, which was a little way out of town, he relaxed by accepting a bourbon. The drink was relaxing and he began to unwind from the strain of the long flight. He was impressed by the large house which was surrounded by extensive gardens and set back from the road. This establishment was private, elegant, expensive and new to him. As he commented on this, his host told him it had only recently opened and was exclusive, more like a ‘gentlemen’s club’.

  As they entered, they were greeted by an attractive woman who introduced herself as Michelle, their hostess. She was warm and engaging, offering them comfortable seats and more drinks. When they were settled, Michelle excused herself and returned with six smiling, cleverly half-dressed young women. They were all beautiful and their names were labelled on heart-shaped broaches: Melissa, Candy, Suzie.

  Michelle teased the men and coaxed them to choose, if they could, from the excellent selection lined before them. His host chose quickly and the young woman came forward, taking him by the hand and leading him away. Left alone with Michelle and five young women waiting for his decision, a matter of moments passed before he chose a young woman who seemed to hang back at the end of the line. Her long straight hair fell heavily, hiding her breasts, and making her seem shier than the others.

  As she led him away by the hand, he saw how petite she was, and so slim. Chloe was a beautiful woman, but in a totally different way. No-one would have described Chloe as dark and petite, for she was the exact opposite, a blue-eyed statuesque and curvaceous blonde. He quickly dismissed these thoughts, the comparison seeming unnecessary to him.

  She showed him into an enormous room resplendent with mirrors on the walls and ceiling, which had the effect of reflecting and doubling the whole scene before him. At one end of the room was a large bed draped with red satin sheets, and at the other end, a spacious round red-tiled spa, steaming faintly. The lighting was low, casting deep shadows and highlighting the vases holding sprays of cream, pink and purple orchids. There was a welcoming, warm red glow which suffused the room. As he sank into the spa bath, he breathed in deeply the mingling fragrances of the room.

  The young woman began to chat casually. She was easy to talk to, but he reflected on how she was trained for this scene. Where was he from? Had his flight been tiring? What business was he in? Would he like a drink? Champagne perhaps? Yes, why not? After all, he deserved it after such a tiring day. She handed him a tall, fine glass of bubbly and joined him in a toast. Did his host hope to clinch the deal by first having him yield to such temptations?

  All thoughts left his mind as he felt the invigorating jets of water run over his body. The young woman seemed to be enjoying the experience and she pulled him gently towards her and with expert hands massaged his temples. You worry too much, she said, you must relax, she admonished him with a soft look and a wide smile. He let his head fall back as she moved closer with her body and began to give him a facial massage. He closed his eyes and the tension began to melt away. She had such expert hands, so soft yet so therapeutic. Almost as if in a trance, he allowed himself to be led to the bed where she had placed a towel for him to lie on.

  The oil she was using on his back and thighs was aromatic and heady. Her hands were sliding and pummelling his buttocks and thighs and the sensation was arousing. When she asked him to turn onto his back, he was surprised and excited by the whole scene being reflected from the mirrored ceiling. As she continued to work on him, first his shoulders and chest, he felt caressed and looking closely at her, realised how beautiful she was. Pulling himself up, he remembered how beautiful Chloe was, perhaps more beautiful than this young enchantress. But his feelings were stirring and the wonderful sensations continued.

  He recalled how he and Chloe had discussed infidelity. But he now realised it had always been an intellectual discussion. Had she really meant it when she had said, ‘I don’t own you, I don’t mind what you do – you’re a free man.’ These discussions had always seemed so liberated, but had there been an implicit, unspoken message of ‘I wouldn’t like you to do it – maybe you’ll be tempted, but I’d like you to be faithful’? He was puzzled, he didn’t know. Was Chloe really giving him his freedom, or just the illusion of freedom? But, he was only human, and yes, he had been tempted before. Something had always stopped him. Maybe it had been the suspicion that Chloe would find out and the betrayal would harm their relationship. It was a relationship he valued and one he would not jeopardize for a cheap thrill. This encounter would lead to nothing. He shook off her silky hands and demanded another glass of champagne.

  Why couldn’t he just relax and enjoy the moment? Nothing need happen. After all he had just had a spa and a massage. He needn’t tell Chloe, who would never know of this innocent encounter. There was no doubt in his mind that he could resist this young woman’s advances. But there was no doubting the fact that she was sensual, and young, very young. He looked at her more closely and saw the firm body encased in little more than brief panties and a lace bra under a georgette wrap that was designed to drape in such a way that it fell open to reveal. Her breasts sat rounded and high above the tiny waist, and her skin was a lovely dusky colour, crying out to be touched, to be caressed. He looked away trying to block out the image of her.

  Sh
e began to massage his stomach and thighs in a slow gentle, even rhythm. His body tensed to the sensation and he willed himself the strength to push her hands from his body. The aromatic oil and the woman’s sweet perfume filled his nostrils, and what a sweet, seductive smell it was.

  More quickly now she rubbed the oil down each leg, one after the other, up and down, up and down. It was no use fighting the feeling anymore. He gave himself up to her hands completely. Expertly, she stroked and rubbed until he became acutely aware of every muscle. She made his skin tingle and compelled his whole body to respond to her.

  Softly she began to whisper in his ear all manner of things which her child-like appearance now belied. Her breath was sweet as she leant closer and bit gently his ear, his neck and his shoulder. The intensity of the pleasure was so great he shivered. Her breasts brushed against his chest as she used her lips to stimulate, excite and dissolve his resistance.

  Is this what was meant by existentialism? He forgot about tomorrow, only now counted, there was only now. As she continued to stroke and rub, he opened his arms to her. She came to him smiling with smouldering eyes. There was the promise of much more. He allowed himself to sink fully into the unbearably wonderful sensations that now possessed his body. The only thoughts he had now were of total fulfilment, of exquisite pleasure. His breathing came faster as he anticipated the ultimate satisfaction.

  Roughly he grabbed her and turned her to lie beneath him. As he bent down towards her, his mouth about to taste her sweet breath, he suddenly stopped. The breath caught in his throat and he rolled away from her body. The young woman’s long black hair had fallen back across the red satin sheet to reveal her delicate neck and superb breasts. Pinned to her sheer georgette wrap just above one of her deliciously firm breasts, now forever forbidden, was the name Chloe.

  Dear Ted, Dear Tina

  Dear Ted,

  First of all, I have to apologise for writing you this letter, but I’m doing so to excuse my behaviour of last week. I promise I won’t do that again. Your receptionist is a bit of a guard dog isn’t she? She was nice to me at first (I suspect because I disguised my voice by putting a tissue over the mouthpiece) but then she started to tell me you were busy whenever I rang. She seemed to have cottoned on to who I was and then after that I was told you were in meetings and conferences all day. I can only conclude that you instructed her to say this to me and besides, I can’t believe you were busy every moment of the day. Part of me hoped you would return my call (but then part of me knew you to be the bastard you are and knew you wouldn’t) but I wasn’t going to be humiliated by leaving a message to which I doubted you would respond. Well, I feel better for having said all that, but don’t stop reading now, because I’ve got some interesting things to say to you.

  By the way, don’t you think my strategy a stroke of genius? I thought maybe you wouldn’t open the letter if you suspected it was from me (or worse still, you’d tear it up immediately). So I struck on the idea of using a formal business envelope and marking it ‘private and confidential’ (then your receptionist couldn’t get her grubby little hands on it!) I hope you appreciate the effort I had to go to. Getting an envelope from a rival firm was no mean feat (but luckily for me I have some contacts and I called on a favour that was owed). How did you feel when you saw the company logo? Did you expect good or bad news? (I know you’ve had some ambivalent dealings with them). Were you pleased or did you start trembling at the knees (I hope you were scared witless – sorry, just a joke!)

  How inconsiderate of me prattling on like this! I haven’t asked how you are. How are you? You know, there was a time when I wished you were dead, but I’m over that now, I’m being very mature about us. Anyway, I want to assure you that you don’t have to worry as I’m not going to cause you any trouble. We’ve both seen Fatal Attraction (in fact, if I recall correctly, we saw it together, I wonder if you appreciate the irony?) and let me tell you I’m not that creative! Besides, you don’t have a pet rabbit, do you? No, as I said I’m being strong and mature about our relationship. It’s definitely the next chapter now.

  Just to close off the last chapter though, I went to one of the bars you frequent with your colleagues last week. I thought if I bumped into you we’d sort of chat and decide to let bygones be bygones. But alas! You didn’t show up (though I was dying to know which young thing you’re dallying with now – sorry – that just slipped out). No, I’m sure that you’re being true to Lena (though your track record isn’t good, is it?) By the way, doesn’t it strike you as funny that you were attracted to a woman with the same-sounding name as mine? You know, Tina sounds a bit like Lena. I think it’s very significant and I sincerely hope she doesn’t have to suffer by your side as I did (boy, who am I kidding? I hope she does suffer and how!)

  But getting back to the bar scene, there I was, on two occasions last week (if the truth be known) on the off chance you might turn up. Of course you didn’t, but I spotted that rather boring Phil from advertising. He didn’t seem to see me fortunately for me. Anna chided me about my behaviour, but you know her! She said that it was undignified turning up in bars alone and she said she would have died of embarrassment if she’d been me and met you (but you know she’s a drama queen). I must say though, I did feel conspicuous, especially after I’d had a few drinks and a guy became very pushy about taking me home. But don’t worry, I got home safely, because the bartender called me a cab after he called Anna and she said I should stay with her the night. By the way, did you get a strange call? You see, I accidentally (really, I swear!) gave him your number instead of Anna’s but then I realised the mistake. I’m truly sorry, because it was late, about 2 a.m., I think, but don’t hold me to it because I’d had a few bourbon and cokes. I suppose a psychologist would be able to unravel why I unconsciously had the bartender phone you (anyway, it’s you who needs the psychologist – no offence). Maybe I wanted you to know how much I was suffering, but don’t feel guilty now, because as I told you, I’m over it all.

  Anna has been wonderful, as you’d expect. She said that you probably weren’t taking my calls because you wanted to protect me, you know from the hurt of hearing your voice and dredging up the past? Isn’t that sweet of you? You know, you have some very nice traits and can be a wonderful man, and that Lena doesn’t deserve you (sorry, that just slipped off my pen!) Maybe you were far too sweet accepting the fact (alleged) that you were the father of her baby. How do you know? Did you have a blood test, or were you DNA printed or whatever it is to prove you are the father? Has it ever occurred to you that she wanted a meal ticket and you were a sucker for a sob story? Let’s face it, your salary and position (not to mention that lovely apartment you own) is a far better proposition than welfare! Oh, you poor sweet fool! What I’m saying is that you’re not a bad catch, and if I weren’t the lady I am, then I’d call her all the names that women who lure men using the oldest trick in the book are called. But, like I said, I want to demonstrate to you that I’m level-headed and adult about everything.

  Just tell me one small thing – for the record. I wouldn’t ask, except for historical reasons. All those nights you were ‘working’ were you really fucking her? Well, all I can say is you have stamina! I was reading in a women’s magazine that a woman should suspect her man is straying if their sex life drops off dramatically. I can’t recall ours doing so, which means you were busy fucking her and then coming home for seconds. What a glutton you are! I always knew you had a strong sex drive, but your abilities should go down in the book.

  How’s your sex life now? Is she too tired with looking after the baby to give you any? I’ve heard all about it – normal women become frigid after they’ve had a baby. Well, you know where to find me (another joke – I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of fucking me). I’m sure that you’re supplementing any deficiency on the home front with your rather casual office flings. I’d be careful if I were you though. Maybe some other young thing might decide you’re a man of principle and tell you her bun-in-the
-oven belongs to you. Now that would stretch even your newly acquired sense of responsibility!

  Although Anna and Kinberley (remember her? I think you rather fancied her) have tried to fix me up with blind dates, I haven’t co-operated. It’s not that I’m pining after you, mind you, but have you ever known a blind date to be even half-way reasonable? No, don’t get me wrong, I’m well and truly ready for a relationship and with all this talk about toy-boys, I figure why not? I’ve always had a fantasy of corrupting a young man into the ways of the world so why not act on it? At least it’d be a change from a geriatric fuck like you (another joke!)/ Don’t think I’m desperate because I’m not, it’s just that I’m more selective than some people I know.

  Did I mention that my dad’s not well? He’d been off work for weeks and when he asked after you I couldn’t bring myself to tell him about us. So I lied and said things were going well. You know how he and poor mother hated the idea of us living together, it’d break his heart to find out how unceremoniously you dumped me! I’m just glad mother isn’t around anymore, she’d be heartbroken – you know she loved you dearly, and I’ m pleased she’s been spared your betrayal. But don’t worry, when dad’s better, I’ll let him know you’re not part of my life anymore. I supposed you’ve told that interfering old mother of yours about us? No doubt she gloated (because she could never stand me and the feeling was mutual, I can assure you) but did her face fall when you gave her the good news about becoming a grandmother? She’s so vain did she rush out to have cosmetic surgery? I must be candid with you – I can’t imagine your mother as a doting, caring grandmother (which probably means you’re in the bad books, any chance of being disinherited? I hope!) How does Lena get on with her? I hope your mother is still her same old charming poisonous self! Let someone else put up with her snide comments and implications that no woman is good enough for her son I say! Please give the old rattlesnake my love when you next see her (see how my sense of humour has recovered from the blow you gave it?)