7 Tales of Sex and Betrayal (3 page)

She 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?)

Work has picked up again, as it always does
this time of year and I might be in with a chance of a promotion.
How about that? I hope you’re not working too hard, although with a
new baby, I suppose you must be, because from what I’ve heard, Lena
is a lazy bitch (this of course, is only rumour). Anyway, I must
sign off now. I thought it would be nice and civilised if we could
be friends even though we’re not together anymore.

lots of love

Tina

P.S. I’ll let you know if I get the
promotion and maybe we can have drinks to celebrate.

Dear Tina,

Thanks for your long and chatty letter. At
first, I wasn’t sure about the tone of the letter. It seemed
confused and angry, but on reading it a second time, I realised it
was giving you the opportunity to say things to me that you
couldn’t when we last saw one another. In that sense, I think you
did the right thing by writing me the letter, because you showed
insight and the process of putting pen to paper and getting things
off your chest was a form of therapy for you. I did think your
attempt at jokes was pathetic, but on reflection, you probably
needed to say those things.

I was heartened to hear that you have Anna
looking after you – she’s a really good sport. As for your work,
I’ve also heard a rumour that you’re destined for bigger things.
Why don’t you give me a call at work and we’ll organise something.
I’ll let my receptionist know that I’m expecting a call from you.
It would be great to see you again and have a chat. Like you said,
there’s no reason we can’t be friends. Maybe we can talk about how
I can help you with your future.

Yours

Ted

Reflections

She had become a regular. She reckoned there
were about twenty of them. Familiar faces and even more familiar
bodies.

In the beginning she had felt
self-conscious. Could that have been only three months ago? As she
contemplated her reflection she could barely believe how much
progress she had made. She rippled a bicep as she lifted the two
kilogram weight and smiled at her vanity.

She went four or five times a week. Lately,
she had begun to feel gulty when she missed a class or did not have
the time (or was it the discipline?) to do her weights program.

‘I don’t know why you bother,’ Michael said.
`You looked perfectly alright before – besides, I don’t like too
much muscle on a woman. It’s unnatural.’

‘I suppose you think fat and flabby is
natural?’ He had a lot of arguments against exercise. Perhaps that
was because he intended to remain complacent and slide comfortably
into middle-aged paunch.

‘Too much exercise is a massive assault on
the human skeleton.’

‘What’s wrong with normal everyday exercise?
I walk up and down stairs at work.’

‘Exercising is a bore, and it weakens the
ligaments and joints.’

He had a point. Keeping fit had become a
cultural obsession. Body sculpting had taken on near religious
proportions. Everywhere she looked, fit and fabulous bodies
surrounded her with their promise that everyone could look that
good.