7 Tales of Sex and Betrayal (4 page)

She knew she could never remotely resemble
the goddesses on the billboards and in the magazines. But she
persisted. It was narcissistic yet appealing. She looked at herself
often, sucking in her tummy, pushing back her shoulders, getting
the right line. To be sinewy, like a Masai warrior with ridges of
muscle outlined against the skin was the ultimate aim.

But Michael was right when he said, ‘Look –
it’s more dignified to grow old gracefully. Just accept the changes
and you won’t get depressed.’ Such homespun philosophy irritated
her. Yet the harsh fluorescent light above the change-room mirror
told her he might be right. She could see the fine mesh of lines
around her eyes and the slackening of the flesh around her
jaw-line.

In her twenties, she had paraded shamelessly
at countless parties, her slinky short dresses and skin-tight jeans
tempting eyes and libidos. She had been lovely, with deep blue eyes
and long honey-blonde hair. Lovers were treated capriciously, as
she juggled them to meet her needs. She recalled how she had
decided to hold out for something special. Did she have it? Was it
enough?

Fifteen years later, her options had
narrowed. One professional husband, one adorable child and living
in a beautiful home in the suburbs – well, wasn’t that everyone’s
dream?

As she pulled on her tights, she noticed the
broken veins on her legs. Her observation was noted by another
regular who commented, ‘Don’t worry about those small spider veins,
a beautician can give you treatment for that.’

Is that what she needed? Treatment for her
veins? She doubted it. Her friend Fiona, had told her that wrinkles
and veins were the insignia of age, but she wasn’t sure of that
theory. Fiona, the eternally youthful, athletic, lithe, elegant and
supportive friend. Next to Fiona, she felt Amazonian. It had been
Fiona who suggested she join a health club to ‘tone up’.

Most of the men at the club were attractive.
The one who looked like a Greek God was special. He had a powerful
build, broad shoulders, strong arms and a small bottom. His hair
was a dark curly mess. She told Fiona about him.

‘I think you fancy him Linda,’ Fiona had
replied.

‘He is the most divine man I’ve ever seen,
but I didn’t say I wanted to screw him,’ she retorted.

Her irritation alarmed her. She told herself
she never thought about having an affair or even a fling, not
seriously. But was her body language giving out subliminal
messages?

One day the Greek God flashed a wide smile
and greeted her. She admitted to herself that she was
flattered.

As she watched her reflection perform a leg
curl, she noticed he was watching. Big strides brought him to her
side and she was aware of his body standing over her.

‘Hi. I’m Brett. I’ve seen you here a
lot.’

As she nodded and smiled, she was aware he
was scrutinizing her.

‘You know, you’d get more out of that
exercise if you pressed the back of your knees into the bench.’

There was no doubting his earnestness. The
wide mirrors reflected their images and she thought what a handsome
couple they appeared.

She wondered what he would be like as a
lover. Although she thought it silly, she began to weave daydreams
around him. The Mrs. Robinson complex is how she humorously
described her reveries to Fiona.

One day he waited for her in the foyer.

`Look, I wondered if you had time for a
coffee?’

He took her by the arm and steered her
across to the coffee shop. Sitting opposite her he talked quickly,
mostly about himself.

`I’m in training, you know. It’s hard work
but what the hell – it’ll all be worth it in the end.’ He had
ordered a thick-shake, which he sucked on loudly.

‘I’ve noticed how far you’ve come along. It
takes a bit of effort but look at the results.’

She felt herself colouring, feeling
strangely victorious in the face of his compliment.

‘Maybe I can help you work on your program –
get you some quicker results.’

He seemed incapable of sitting still.
Massaging his arms and rotating his shoulders to loosen muscles, he
continued his non-stop talk.

Her fantasies of the shy, sensitive,
intuitive man he might have been receded. She couldn’t help smiling
at her folly.

He leaned across and looked her straight in
the eye.

‘I thought you might like some company now
and then. Know what I mean?’

She returned his direct gaze. Standing up,
she moved across to him and put a hand on his powerful bicep.

‘Thanks. But I’m on a tight schedule. I have
to pick up the twins.’

She laughed loudly as she walked across the
car park. His inoffensive comment implied his body was something
special, something for which she might be grateful.

‘What a pity he’s just a pretty face,’ she
said out loudly to herself.

She would have given her eyeteeth to see
that expression on his face again.

Suspicion: 1978 style

Sally thanked the operator and looked at the
number she had jotted down on the pad next to the phone. It had
been easy. Why hadn’t she thought of it before? The idea had come
to her in the shower that morning. She had read somewhere that
creative thoughts come to you when you least expect them. How true
this had been in her case.

Kevin had only referred to his personal
assistant by her first name and Sally had been cautious about
appearing too curious, or worse still, suspicious. But she now knew
the name of the other woman in Kevin’s life. `The other woman’ she
repeated out loud to herself and gave a mirthless laugh.

With mixed feelings she had dialed Kevin’s
work number knowing she would hear his receptionist’s voice. Her
plan had worked beautifully. Muffling her voice, she mumbled
uncharacteristically, asking for his personal assistant. On cue,
the receptionist replied cheerfully, ‘Oh, you must be after Judy
Spring’, and Sally hung up. What a name! It sounded too young and
joyful, probably just the way Judy was, thought Sally bitterly.

The day had dragged terribly, but it was now
7 p.m. and Sally was psyching herself up. She paced the living
room, too excited to sit down. She stood by the window for a
moment, staring down at the street below. The people walking along
the pavement looked tiny, insignificant, almost like ants from
where she was standing. They were people she didn’t know, whose
lives would never touch hers, people who lived and laughed, ate,
drank and made love. But they weren’t suffering as she now suffered
at the thought of her husband in another’s woman’s arms.

‘Settle down Sally!’ she told herself. She
recognised the hysteria which lay just below the surface of her
mind. She suddenly felt the pain of her tapered red fingernails
digging into the palm of her hands. But the pain was nothing
compared with her jealousy. It confused her, tormented her, and
consumed her. Jealousy now made the blood pump furiously in her
forehead. She would take aspirins later. Right now, she needed a
drink and then she would ring.

She downed the cocktail too quickly, but
felt a rush of confidence with the act. She was ready. There was no
need to refer to the message pad. She knew the number. With
trembling fingers she dialed and got a wrong number. She laughed
nervously as someone from Chan’s Restaurant answered. This time
with meticulous care she dialed again.

‘568-000. Hello?’ said a female voice at the
other end. It was a husky, educated voice. Sally caught her
breath.

‘Can Kevin Wilson take a personal call from
London?’ Sally was pleased with her accent, which could well belong
to a London telephone operator. She had chosen London because
Kevin’s sister lived there.

‘Please hold on,’ came the reply.

Sally could hear her breath coming faster as
she heard the other woman’s voice, `Kevin – call for you from
London.’

There was no need for her to hear his voice.
She knew he was there, and with her. But Sally hung on to hear his
calm voice identifying himself, `Kevin Wilson speaking.’

Momentarily she was lost for words. Then she
heard herself speaking in a cool voice, a voice which didn’t betray
the intense emotional reaction his voice evoked.

‘Hello Kevin. I’m ringing to make sure
you’re there.’

‘What the hell ... Sally! It is you isn’t
it?’ He sounded surprised – and guilty.

‘Yes, it’s me. Goodbye Kevin,’ and she hung
up before he could say any more. Sinking into the couch, Sally
became aware of sweat breaking out all over her skin. She had taken
the fatal step. But what lay ahead?

The shrill ring of the telephone jolted her
back to reality. She knew it was Kevin and let it ring itself into
silence. He would want to ‘talk about it’ and she was not ready,
not just yet.

Her mind took her back over the weeks of
torment, of doubt, of watching Kevin, observing his behaviour and
judging his words. Becoming more and more certain, she was never
quite sure. Until now.

Sally had seen a pattern emerging over the
course of Kevin’s present affair. Yes, it had happened before, but
Kevin had denied it and on that occasion, she had no concrete
evidence. But Sally had lived through Kevin coming home late from
the office, Kevin needing to go away for week-end conferences, and
Kevin keeping to his side of the bed, finding stupid excuses to
avoid touching her until their sex life was virtually non-existent.
This time she strongly suspected ‘another woman’ and now it had
been confirmed.

`Sally, you’re being silly’, Diane, her best
friend had admonished her. ‘He’s a great guy and just because he
can’t include you in every little thing in his life, you’re
jealous. You can’t possess a man – and you’ll lose him one of these
days if you keep up your suspicion of him. Look, stop imagining
things!’ Diane had said sternly.

Sally bit her lip as she recalled how Diane
had allayed her anxieties, yet her suspicion had built steadily
over the weeks. If she hadn’t taken Diane’s advice, the affair
might have been nipped in the bud. Yes, she should have spoken to
Kevin much earlier. But would that have provided the proof of what
she knew in her heart? Sally somehow doubted it.

‘Look, you know Kevin has to have a personal
assistant and you know she has to be reasonably good-looking,
because she often has to deal with the clients in the first
instance. Sally, you must stop doubting him – just because he likes
her and gets on well with her doesn’t mean he’s screwing her – he
has to maintain a good relationship with her because they have to
work closely. This isn’t the first time, remember how embarrassed
you were when you made that scene over the Swedish woman on
vacation last summer? And what about your suspicion that Kevin was
having it off with his receptionist? Admit you were wrong, and
don’t make a fool of yourself or him over these petty jealousies.
Forget it all Sally, it’s nonsense,’ Diane had lectured her at
length.

‘Huh,’ Sally uttered out loudly to herself,
‘How wrong Diane can be – but I knew it all along,’ she added
bitterly. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing telephone.
This time she lifted the receiver.

‘Sally? Look, honey, I’m almost out of my
mind. I rang five minutes ago, but there was no answer. Are you
alright?’

‘Of course, what do you think I was doing?
Slashing my wrists?’

‘Don’t talk like that Sally. I know things
look bad, but it’s not as it appears, really. Trust me. I’m coming
home right now to explain – Sally, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here, more fool me.’

‘Well, I thought we’d been cut off...’, his
voice trailed and he sounded tired and was it unsure of himself?
And most definitely guilty. Yes, she was listening to the voice of
a guilty man.

‘Honey, let’s just get one thing straight. I
love you and only you, right?’

‘I bet that’s what you tell all the girls,’
Sally said bitterly and hung up on him.

Her head was spinning and it still throbbed.
Instead of taking aspirin, she poured herself a very generous
measure of brandy. The warmth of the drink stimulated not only her
body but also her thoughts. How could Kevin be so charming and
caring with her one minute, then hurtful the other? He had always
been a flowers-and-chocolates man – maybe that was his way of
worming himself further into her affections, while he cast around
looking for another, newer liaison. What did it say about her? She
tried desperately to remember what all the women’s magazines say
about infidelity and why some men stray. Was she too worn and tired
looking? Was she unadventurous in bed? Only days earlier she had
read an article on affairs, which gave the silly advice that the
woman should keep quiet about her suspicion, and then forgive and
forget. What a lot of nonsense! How could any self-respecting woman
stand idly by when the man she loves holds another woman in his
arms?

‘Sally, honey,’ came Kevin’s smooth voice
from the doorway.

She was so immersed in thought she hadn’t
heard his key in the lock. He stood in the doorway, looking at her,
searching her face, trying to judge her mood? He moved to the bar
and made himself a drink. She watched him move and marvelled at how
he seemed so calm, so unaltered.

‘Sally, you’re being silly again. There’s
nothing between Judy and me. We’re not lovers as you seem to think,
and that’s the truth!’

Sally looked into his eyes, but it was hard
for her to make out what she saw there. She sighed deeply and
resigned herself to more denials and yes, more lies.

‘Don’t treat me like a fool,’ she shot an
angry look in his direction. ‘You’ve been screwing the pants off
Judy for weeks. You thought I wouldn’t suspect, but I did. You were
spending far too many nights working late at the office.’

‘I know it’s hard for you to believe me, but
I was working on an important deal. Judy is my assistant, as you
know, and tonight I called by her apartment to collect a file she’d
taken home with her. Look, I was going to ring you from her place
and tell you I was there and would be a little late.’