Distractions (2 page)

‘Besides, Em, haven’t you got homework to do?’

‘You’re not going to start sounding like my mother, are you?’

‘I might. I have to do something. I can’t have you wandering the streets looking for trouble. I know what you’re like.’

‘Bitch.’

‘Tart.’

‘Touché.’

Emma picked up the magazine and considered whether she should have another coffee.

‘Em?’

‘Yes?’

‘Why
are
we here?’

Emma had hoped she had escaped the question. She placed the magazine down and turned to look at Sally.

‘I had to get away. I suddenly felt …’ She couldn’t complete the sentence. ‘I just couldn’t stand it.’

‘What?’

‘My life, I suppose. It was as though I had shrunk overnight and nothing seemed to fit.’

‘Even David?’

‘Yes, even David. The whole life I had chosen seemed a mistake.’

‘How can that be?’

‘It doesn’t now. I feel better now. I can breathe again. Maybe I shouldn’t have neglected our friendship. Maybe I just needed more Sally in my life. I feel so much better today.’

‘Shall we go home then?’

‘No, no! Let’s never go home. Let’s live here together. Or let’s pretend we are going to. Please?’

‘OK, Em,’ said Sally, aware that there was more to the story. Something
had
happened that Emma was reluctant to share with her. She had always wondered at Emma’s choice to settle down with David. It seemed out of character. Indeed it seemed doomed to failure. She thought now that she was witnessing the end. But she wouldn’t push. Emma would tell her in her own time. It was the pattern of their friendship.

Emma smiled at Sally, thanking her for not pressing her further.

‘Is that your phone, Em?’

Emma listened. She could just make out the ring tone. She got up and walked inside. It was on the kitchen bench. She picked it up thinking it would be David or her mother, but it was Paul, her lover. She glanced around. Sally had stayed outside. She answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Guess where I am?’ asked Paul, without any preamble.

‘I have no idea? Peking?’

‘Peking? Jesus, Em, it doesn’t even exist any more!’

‘Constantinople?’

‘You’re just fucking with me.’

‘Yep.’

‘I’m in your lounge room.’

‘What the hell are you doing there? How did you get in?’

‘David let me in.’

‘Oh, shit.’

‘Oh, shit, indeed.’

Emma was keeping an eye on Sally, making sure she didn’t come in the house.

‘Why is he home? He’s supposed to be playing golf.’

‘He said he has a cold, but he doesn’t look sick. He was still in his pyjamas. He’s taking a shower now. I said I had come to take you to lunch but as you weren’t home I’d take him. He tried to decline the offer but I insisted.’

‘You and your impromptu visits! I knew this would happen one day.’

‘You love my impromptu visits!’

Silence.

‘Where are you?’

‘Up at Sally’s beach house.’

‘Shall I come up?’

‘No! Jesus, Paul, do you want me to get in trouble?’

‘Yes.’

Right, the bastard probably did want her to. But it was good to hear his voice. He was entirely immoral. It was cleansing.

‘Did David say anything?’

‘Like?’

‘Are you fucking my wife behind my back?’ said Emma, with a smile.

‘Yeah, and I was honest with him. I also told him about the night before your wedding.’

‘You’re a shit.’

‘As if he would say anything! Even if he suspected there is no way David would ever give me the satisfaction. He would just divorce you and move on. He’d probably never speak to you again.’

Emma was silent. She hated Paul for saying that. It was true, though. David would just move on. There would be no middle ground, she thought, and this had always frightened her.

‘Look, Em, don’t worry about any of this. Nothing is going to happen. I’ll take him to lunch, we’ll talk about the rugby or the cricket or I’ll tell him stories about the women I’ve been fucking and he’ll be fine. Hey, why are you up there?’

At that moment Sally stood up.

‘I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later,’ she said and ended the call.

‘Who was that?’ Sally asked as Emma returned to her seat.

‘David.’

Later on, Emma sat with a novel under the shade of the umbrella. She hadn’t noticed Sally had left her side till she passed by the top of her page. She was down by the pool in her bikini. Emma watched her for a moment then fell back into the novel. Some time later she heard a splash and looked up to see the blurred figure of her friend swimming the length of the pool underwater. Sally emerged by the wall of the shallow end. As she stood up and pushed her hair back, Emma saw she was naked. And, like many other admirers of Sally in the past, she was startled by a sudden new impression of her friend’s beauty.

Emma liked Sally’s decision to drop the bikini and break the norm. Though with no neighbours to spy on her, and a low sand dune screening views from the beach, it was hardly a brave break with convention.

Sally began to swim again and Emma could not take her eyes from her.

After ten or so laps, Sally gripped the side of the
pool and pushed herself up. Emma saw her rise out of the water, lifting herself with an easy strength. The dynamic bend of her body accentuated the muscles in her back and thighs, revealing how fit and strong she was. But as she stood the muscles retreated and the soft, lean figure returned. Sally moved gracefully towards her towel and the outdoor lounge. She stretched the towel out over the lounge seat, bending this way and that before, briefly, kneeling on all fours and then lying flat on her stomach. Emma realised she had been holding her breath. She exhaled.

Some time later the sound of a car door slamming and the laughter of children interrupted Emma’s voyeurism. She hadn’t been able to read. She rose to warn Sally of the arrival of her neighbours but saw that Sally had already wrapped the towel around her and was walking back to the house, out of view.

THREE

‘David must be rough,’ said Sally.

‘Huh?’

The women were sunbathing on the balcony on Sunday afternoon. Emma was putting on sun cream and had lowered her bikini top slightly.

‘I didn’t notice yesterday, but you’ve got battle scars, honey!’ Sally said, pointing at a faded bite mark on her friend’s breast. Emma had completely forgotten about the marks. She was momentarily embarrassed, but quickly covered her tracks.

‘Well, he’s a big man, with a big man’s strength and appetite.’

‘Yes?’ Sally prompted, hoping for more information.

‘He can be a little rough.’

‘Truly? I can only imagine.’

Emma smiled and let it drop.

But Sally wanted more. ‘Do you two get into that … stuff?’

‘What stuff?’ asked Emma, looking up at her friend while she slathered suncream over her legs, examining the bruises as she did so. There weren’t that many, she thought to herself. Besides, with her pale skin bruises looked worse than they were.

‘I don’t know … the rough stuff,’ persisted Sally.

‘Do David and I get dressed up in leather and whip and beat each other for kicks?’ asked Emma, smiling.

‘Yeah.’

‘I thought only librarians and accountants got into that.’

‘Then those marks are David just being David?’

‘Yes,’ said Emma, remembering how Jason had knocked her down onto her knees, gripping her tightly by the neck, completely overpowering her, as he’d taken her from behind.

‘I always wondered about that. He is so big.’

‘If you’d like I could let you take him for a test drive.’

‘Emma! That’s not what I meant. I’m afraid of big men.’

‘Liar.’

‘It’s true,’ said Sally, reddening. She had often fantasised about having David’s bulk on her. But such fantasies were allowable, she had reasoned, because acting on them was impossible.

‘Have you forgotten Simon Crowe? He was huge.’

‘He was different.’

‘How so?’

‘He was a sweetie.’

‘And David is …?’

‘Scary,’ said Sally and laughed.

Emma smiled. She knew what her friend meant, but also knew that behind the forbidding facade was a man capable of great tenderness.

Sally was in a talkative mood.

‘I remember the first time I saw him naked.’

‘Who?’

‘Simon. I remember we were just going to go skinny-dipping in my parents’ pool. He stepped out of his jeans and pulled down his boxers and I
froze. I hadn’t seen anything like it. I still haven’t. Have you?’

Emma shook her head.

‘I hadn’t even decided whether I liked him or not. I hadn’t even taken all of my clothes off and had no idea he was married. I walked towards him to take a closer look. I was shameless. He stood there while I reached out my hand to touch it. It was the craziest thing. He was such a big man, tall and broad and I felt so small beside him. Then the thing started to grow in my hand. It was enormous.’

‘I remember,’ said Emma.

‘I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want him to fuck me with it. I liked holding it though. Is that what David is like?’

‘What? No! Ha! I have never seen another cock like Simon’s. I wouldn’t want to.’

‘I grew to love it. I’ve never told you before, but I went back to him a few times later, as well, after everything had happened. The sex wasn’t that good but …’

‘What?’

‘I just loved that thing!’ Sally said, and let out a screeching laugh. She brought her knees up and wrapped her arms around them and hid her
face in her lap, rocking backwards and forwards. Emma laughed with her.

‘I want a big man again, Emma. A big, big man!’

‘Darling, you can borrow mine. Seriously!’

‘Stop saying that!’ Sally covered her ears.

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Who wouldn’t want to fuck you? You’re sublime. I’d fuck you again, given the chance.’

Sally raised her head.

‘We can’t do things like that any more, Em. Besides, he’s your husband.’

‘Come on, you’d share your husband with me.’

‘No I wouldn’t. Not a chance. When they have you they’re never quite the same.’

‘Do I ruin them?’

‘For others.’

‘Well, that doesn’t stop you from fucking David.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Sally and David sitting in a tree – f – u – c – k – i – n – geeee.’

‘Stop it!’

‘He’s good.’

‘Stop it, Em.’

‘He could do us both.’

‘I’m not listening.’

‘I think you are. I could call him. Come up and fuck Sally while I watch.’

‘La la la la la.’

‘Maybe we could tie you up and make you watch us.’

‘Emma! My god! You are the devil!’

‘You know you want to. Admit it.’

‘I don’t want to fuck David.’

‘Sorry, all I heard was “I want to fuck David.”’

‘Please.’

Emma stood up. She thought the moment called for champagne.

‘OK. You don’t want to fuck David. You’ve convinced me. Let’s never speak of it again.’

‘Thank you.’

Emma stepped inside the house, knowing Sally was watching her. She turned back suddenly and said, ‘But I bet you do!’

Sally started laughing.

Moments later Emma returned with two glasses and a bottle of champagne.

‘You’d never cheat on Mark, would you?’ asked Emma, unwrapping the bottle.

‘No. Never.’

‘Never ever?’

‘Never. I couldn’t do it. I love Mark too much.’

‘What about with a girl?’

‘You?’ asked Sally, picking up a glass.

‘Me.’

‘You don’t count, do you?’

Emma popped the cork and Sally held out her glass. Emma filled both glasses.

‘Cheers to me not counting.’

‘Cheers.’

‘You won’t cheat but you want a big man?’

‘Yes, but that is different. I want one. I want lots of things I can’t have. It doesn’t mean I will take one. Sometimes at the gym when I’m working out I’ll notice someone noticing me. If he’s hot it sends a shiver down my body. I always think of you in those moments. I say to myself, Emma would. Sometimes I flirt. Sometimes I let them help me work a machine, to adjust a seat for me, to set the weight. It would be so easy to take it the next step. But then I think of Mark. I think of you. I think of how hard it can be to break off these flings. It all seems too difficult.’

‘But you like the attention?’

‘I
love
the attention. Sometimes it’s the most exciting thing that happens to me in a month.’

‘Poor Sally!’

‘Don’t poor Sally me! When I think of the things we’ve done together, of the men we’ve had, the nights we’ve shared. I sometimes can’t believe it was me. It seems like something I watched or read. Mark has no idea what his wife is capable of. And now it’s in the past. It belongs to another life. Married life must be different. And that difference isn’t bad. Married life is wonderful.’

‘But if you could step outside of marriage without consequences for half a day …?’

‘Don’t!’

‘What would you do?’

‘Emma, you make it so hard to be good!’

‘What would you do?’

‘Do you still have Simon Crowe’s number?’