Obesssion (5 page)

Obsession27
: Eighteen. He was the first man I fell in love with.

B.Brunheim:
You still had a lot of growing up to do. You are a different person now, but do you think he’s grown alongside you?

Obsession27:
I’m not sure. He’s changed, but maybe that’s just me noticing more. Things that I never used to mind about him are annoying now.

B.Brunheim
: What sort of things?

Obsession27
: His possessiveness. It used to make me feel wanted, but now I feel trapped.

B.Brunheim
: Interesting word choice. In what way?

Obsession27
: I guess… He has our life together all mapped out, but I don’t know if that’s the life I want. He’s given me everything. I feel guilty for not being satisfied, but… it feels as though something is missing.

B.Brunheim
: Have you discussed this? Marriage should be a partnership.

Obsession27
: No. I’m scared to, because I’ll have to tell him about Mum. I want to pretend everything is fine.

2.8 Gabe

Before I thought about it any further, I made a photocopy of Suki’s notes, and replaced them in the teetering stack of paper. Retreating to my den, I read the rest of the article, my eyes returning again and again to the sub-heading.

20 or more ticks—she is almost definitely having an affair

10—19 ticks—she is preparing for / planning an affair

Less than 10—nothing to worry about

This was ridiculous. The hot wave of anxiety assailing me had been swept away by a cold sense of determination. I would go through each one, and see how many applied to Suki. The single-minded focus that made me so lethal on the racetrack was equally useful in other areas.

Several leapt off the page at me.

2. She does not answer her cell phone often and she tells you it was turned on all the time. She doesn’t know how she missed your calls.

Tick

5. She disappears for hours and she says she was shopping or went to pick up some groceries.

Tick. She was almost never at home with me these days.

7. Reluctance to have sex

Big tick. This had been niggling at me for months. She rarely refused me, we were trying for a baby after all, but it felt as though she was going through the motions. She’d never been very adventurous, but I’d given up trying to encourage her in that direction. That’s what my porn collection was for.

11. She gets nervous when you step into the room when she is using the computer—changes windows, closes programs or shuts down the computer among other actions.

She did this routinely. Should I be worried about it?

15. Reduced intimacy. Women usually equate intimacy with their emotional relationship with a person.

A chill ran down my spine. This was
it
exactly. When was the last time we snuggled on the sofa to watch a movie? Now she was more inclined to sit on the opposite side of the room, if she stayed in the same room at all.

22. Restlessness—A happy and content wife would love spending time with her spouse at home.  However, when a wife becomes restless, finding it difficult simply to sit back to enjoy the family, then you should be questioning why.

Another chill. Restless was a good way to describe her attitude of late. Always jumping up to check her email or her phone. More forgetful, too. How many times did I have to remind her about joint appointments before she finally added them to her schedule?

Several more would be easy to check. Whether her car mileage matched her supposed whereabouts, buying new lingerie, leaving her wedding ring behind when she went out and using a private email account.

I totalled up the scores:
Yes
—nine;
no
—eight. This left a staggering thirteen that could go either way. There was the potential that Suki could score as high as twenty-two.

Fuck.

The jury was out.

2.9 Josh

Two days after meeting with Alan Houghton, he called me.

“I know you’re normally hired by the spouse, but I have a job you may be interested in. The client says he’s prepared to pay double your usual rates.”

I had to admit, I was intrigued.
“What kind of job?”

“
The same as you did with Savannah, finding out how easily she could be tempted, but my client says it’s for his best friend. He’s worried his friend’s marriage is shaky and wants something concrete before saying anything to him.”

I thought about it. Felt a little uncomfortable.
“How well do you know this client?”

“
Very well.” I heard him draw on a cigarette, exhale softly. His voice sounded smooth and confident. “He’s actually an old school friend of mine, I can guarantee his discretion.”

I flicked through my email calendar as he spoke.
“I’ve got a couple of days free. How soon does he want to meet?”

“
Ah, that’s the thing.” My senses immediately went on alert. “He wants to conduct this through myself, as a third party. Celebrities, you know. He’s worried about exposure.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me. This had to be one of Alan’s footballers. I’d find out soon enough.
“Go on then, what
can
you tell me?”

“
There’s another stipulation. Due to this person’s schedule, you’ll need to move quickly, otherwise the lady in question will be out of the country most of the time. Are you in a position to start work on this immediately?”

Was I? For double my usual rate, I could be.
“Okay. Do I need to come back to Manchester?”

“
You can, or I can email all the background I have. Your target actually lives in North Wales, a remote village on the coast. It’s Anita Craigowan. She’s married to that racing driver.”

CHAPTER 3

3.1 Suki

I remember vividly the day I met Gabe.

My father was being presented with another business award. His engineering company made obscure components for weapons systems, and as he joked, guns would never go out of fashion. My mother was in fairly good shape, one of her better periods, and we drifted around the sunny garden party held on some banker’s private estate.

My mother tucked her arm through mine, and took the opportunity to smooth my hair as she did so.
“Here they come now,” she hissed. “That’s Gabriel Bridgewater, the son and heir.”

It felt as though I’d been struck in the chest. Hard. I literally struggled for breath. I thought she said
the sun and air
. It was more appropriate.

He radiated sunshine, almost glowing with good health. And his smile… I felt it like a blast of heat. I had never seen a man so beautiful before. His strong jawline, smoke grey eyes and dark, almost black hair, the colour of wet coal, he looked like a fallen angel. Gabriel was well named.

When he smiled—at me—and suggested we go check out the band hired for the event, I could barely string two words together. Dazzled by his charisma, I followed him to the bar, and then to the dance floor.

I’d been in thrall ever since.

I dragged my mind back to the task at hand. The magazine column would not write itself. I’d been asked to answer a questionnaire on ‘The One’. The subtext was ‘the joy of being married to Gabriel Bridgewater’ and I’d done this so many times already, and from slightly different angles, that I should be able to do it in my sleep.

Question one:
How did you meet?
That was easy.

Question two:
How did you know he was The One
? That was easy, too. He made me feel like the most important person in the world, as though there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me. He gave me confidence.

Question three:
What are the big things that you love about him?
His confidence and his physical presence. His supreme fitness. The knowledge that he still loves me after ten years together and wants us to have a future together.

Question four:
What are the little things that you love about him?
The way he brings me a cup of tea in bed. He remembers birthdays and anniversaries. He’ll surprise me with flowers or a gift when I least expect it, or buy my favourite wine without being asked. He spent ages once tracking down an obscure foreign movie because I said I wanted to watch it.

Question five:
What tips would you give other couples?
I knew the
right
answer to this one. Honest and regular communication. Your partner is not a mind reader, so if you’ve got a problem, tell him. If you want something different in bed, tell him. If you want to make changes, tell him. He might want to make changes, too.

If only it was that easy in real life.

3.2 Gabe

I waited impatiently for Suki’s laptop to boot up. She’d disappeared on yet another shopping trip. I may have an hour before she returned. As I stared at her wall calendar—classic cars—I recalled my earlier meeting with Alan Houghton.

I’d felt amused when Alan told me he was divorcing Savannah. She was such a slapper that part of me was surprised they’d stayed together so long. I’d met Alan for a game of squash and we were reclining on leather banquettes in the bar afterwards as we quenched our thirst. I had to say, he didn’t look too upset. Perhaps he had his eye on someone else already? He’d always played his cards close to his chest.

His pet investigator was too good an opportunity to pass up.

Alan stared at me over his obscure bottled ale. “Not Suki. She adores you.”

“
No, of course not.” I made an impatient gesture with my hand. “Suki and I are amazing. I’m thinking of a friend of mine. I’m worried for his marriage.”

Alan seemed to buy the lie. As he chattered on about business, my mind drifted and I hid a smile. Finding out if Craigowan had a secret love child would be good, but evidence of his wife straying would be even better. It was common knowledge that his first wife had done the dirty on him. How satisfying would it be if he found his second wife doing exactly the same? I could hardly wait.

I knew from the dinner party that the Craigowan’s would be in their Wales home for the next week or so. After that, it was back to the intensive training and testing we did in preparation for the next race. Chances were, Anita would be following him like a lovesick puppy. She looked at her husband the way Suki used to look at me.

And now, having set things in motion, I turned my mind back to my own marriage.
Come on
,
why did this machine take so long?

It finally connected to the Internet. I clicked on Outlook, assuming it was her main email account. Plenty of emails there to go through—hundreds. I needed more time to check those. How about the remote email providers...? I scanned through her browsing history for the past month, finding a frequently used Hotmail account in her maiden name—S_Hubbard. She’d kept
that
account quiet and I had to ask myself why?

I was by no means proficient with computer systems, considering myself an average user. Anything complicated was better left to the specialists. One site name leapt out—PrivateChat. Was that a chat room?

My heart thudded in my chest.  Who would she be chatting with? And why didn’t I know about it?

I glanced at my watch and calculated how much time I had before she was due back. Not enough. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this, but on the surface, it stunk. I’d have to arrange some time alone with the laptop, when I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed.

3.3 Suki

We had another week at home together before Gabe flew out to Belgium in preparation for his next race. This time I’d join him for the race itself, on the dreaded Spa-Francorchamps road circuit. Jon Craigowan had been involved in a terrible accident there, just two years ago. Although he’d escaped with relatively minor injuries, his then teammate had been in a coma for weeks and had never returned to the sport. I knew Anita hated watching that circuit and I’d already planned to stick with her, once we were there. I’d defy Gabe this once. If he grumbled, I’d point out how it was good publicity for us to be seen together.

I needed another session with Babs, and soon. Tendrils of worry were taking hold, creeping across my life, tainting everything. I hated the chasm that seemed to be opening between Gabe and myself, and if I wanted us to try and reconnect again, maybe it was time I took the lead.

I knew he liked me to look pretty, so I headed for my favourite lingerie shop.

I’d already bought several new bra and panty sets, and I’d been there again today. This time I came away with a ludicrously expensive set in dove grey silk: bra, panties, suspender belt and sheer black silk stockings. Tonight would be the first step towards fixing my marriage.

Gabe had been offhand with me since I came home, but really, that was nothing new these days. He’d been out on one of his bikes again and that normally lifted his bleak moods, but not tonight. I made a start on dinner and then locked myself in the bathroom for a long, luxurious bath. An hour later, feeling pampered and fragrant, I slipped into my gorgeous new underwear and picked out a close fitting jersey wrap dress, along with a pair of high heels. With my hair gleaming and my makeup done, I looked about as good as I get. I smiled at my reflection. If this didn’t work, God help me.

He looked at me, a puzzled expression on his face, when he came into the kitchen.
“You going out tonight?”

“
No,” I smiled at him over my shoulder as I laid the table.

His frown deepened.
“It’s not our anniversary. And we’re not expecting the photographer back.”

My confidence was ebbing.
“I just thought I’d make an effort, for a change.” Open suspicion on his face now, he slipped into a chair and poured two glasses of wine from the bottle I’d already opened. This was not going as I’d planned.

Conversation was stilted over dinner. I tried to introduce a light-hearted feel, but Gabe just grunted or muttered in response. I began to feel desperate. As I served up a ripe and squishy wedge of Brie, I took the bull by the horns.

“I was hoping you’d help me, give me a male perspective on something.” Grey eyes flashed up to mine, a flicker of interest. To calm my nerves, I cut a small piece of cheese and pressed it onto a cracker, buying myself a few moments. “I’m preparing this feature on long-term married couples reconnecting with each other.” I forced a smile. “You know, bringing the magic back into their relationship.” I paused, the cracker hovering mid-way to my mouth. “I had a few ideas I wanted to run past you.”

Appealing to his experience and flattering his ego—usually those tactics worked. I waited. Watched as he nabbed a lump of cheese and ate it with his fingers.
“What kinds of ideas?”

“
Making time to spend together. Talking. Trying new things.”

One eyebrow lifted a fraction.
“New things?”

“
Well, yes. When people have been together a long time, they can get stuck in patterns of behaviour. It can be exciting to do something different.” I swallowed, and then produced what I hoped was a sexy smile. “In bed.”

His face was impassive. He smoothed his tidy goatee with one finger.
“You could argue that when a couple have been together a long time, they already know what works for them.”

In the TV studio, I sounded confident and knowledgeable. I quizzed my guests and experts alike, challenged their preconceptions and captured their interest. Why in God’s name could I not do the same with my husband? The only man I’d ever loved, ever been intimate with. Gabe liked to think he’d taught me everything I know about sex, but then, he had no idea how women talked when we got together.

“So, on a hypothetical basis,” —I peeped at him over the top of my wineglass, one finger delicately stroking the stem—”if I asked you what could be improved about our love life, what would you say?”

“
Do
you
think it needs to be improved?” His voice was silky. I couldn’t tell yet if he was curious or offended.

“
I asked you first.” I took a quick sip of wine. “I’m going to propose that my guests elect to change one thing in their love lives, just one. And then see if it makes a difference overall.” I paused again, and watched him carefully. He seemed to be listening, intently. “On that basis, let’s try it for ourselves. Are you okay with being a guinea pig and helping me out on this one?”

This wasn’t the first time I’d asked him for a male perspective. I did it on a regular basis, but usually with such mundane topics as choosing cars, size of TV screens, and other trivia. I had no way to gauge how he’d react to a more personal issue.

His gaze dropped to take in my cleavage, enhanced by the cleverly-wrapped dress. “One thing, you say?”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
And would it be a one-time change, or something to be done on a regular basis?”

Well, I’d captured his interest, and that was good. But Gabe being Gabe, wanted to check all the restrictions before taking part. He’d have made a good lawyer. I considered his question as he topped up my wine glass. His own drink lay untouched.
“Let’s say, a one-time change. The chance to do something different—just the once.”

“
I choose.” The challenge was clear. If I wanted to play this game, it would have to be by Gabe’s rules.

3.4 Gabe

Having looked through Suki’s programme plans for the next twelve months, I felt confident there was no such feature. Rather more worrying, I hadn’t found mention of the Cheating Husbands / Cheating Wives idea either. I had to conclude that her ability to lie to my face was impressive. Gazing at her across the kitchen table, the debris of our dinner between us, I couldn’t help wondering what else? How many times
did
she lie to me? What was she working so hard to cover up?

I’d find out. No matter how long it took.

This little game she wanted to play could be interesting. It might give me some insight into her current state of mind. Little Suki, my repressed and fearful wife wanting to know what could be changed about our love life… Some desire on her part would be a good starting point. As I poured her another glass of wine—she’d be far more relaxed with a few drinks inside her—I contemplated what to do. Oh, the possibilities were endless. The opportunity to push her far beyond her comfort zone was tempting. No, it was irresistible. Maybe tonight I’d be able to show her what was missing in our sex life. Show her how exciting it could be, if she’d give it a chance.