by Rosie Miller
This would be the moment when Alistair finally confronted his wife. He would tell her Justine wasn’t a tart—she was his girlfriend. And they were in love. And him and Justine were going to be together.
She looked at Alistair. He was busy buttoning up his trousers. “Terribly sorry,” he said. “I just couldn’t resist. You know what I’m like.”
He was apologizing to his wife.
Justine was aghast. “But…”
His wife took Alistair’s arm and dragged him out of the room. “You bloody idiot. Here—of all places.” And she marched him off. He didn’t even look back.
What a controlling bitch, Justine thought as she tugged her clothes straight again and stepped cautiously out the door, hoping no one would see her.
There were a couple of men standing nearby. One of them grinned at her and the other one winked. “How much are you charging? Wouldn’t mind a quick hummer myself.”
“Don’t let the wife catch you.” They laughed loudly, watching Justine as she strode past them.
Had they seen her with Alistair’s cock in her mouth? They must have done. She felt sick inside.
She went straight to the ladies powder room without looking at anyone. She reapplied her make-up and tidied her hair. Why did she have to catch them? Surely she wouldn’t tell anyone. Apart from the two guys who had seen the whole scene it happen—no one else would know. Perhaps she could leave early, she could tell her boss she had a headache.
Alistair was bound to have a heart to heart with his wife now, and he’ll tell her that he’s leaving her. He’ll call me later and tell me he’s left her and he’s all mine. Then we’ll be together, forever.
She left the ladies, feeling better, looking for her boss.
She passed a group of people. “She’s just caught her husband with his dick in some tart’s mouth—in the cleaner’s closet!” A guffaw of laughter followed.
The heat wouldn’t leave her face. It wasn’t like that. They were in love.
She scanned the room anxiously. Alistair was over there—holding his wife’s arm—looking very sheepish. Well, his wife had better make the most of it, because he wouldn’t be with her much longer.
His wife glanced across and saw her. She held Justine’s gaze and began walking steadily towards her. Alistair followed behind her.
Justine felt a cold sinking feeling. She backed away, wanting to get out of the room. Perhaps Alistair had already broken the news. Surely his wife wouldn’t make a scene in here? But she didn’t look like a woman who had just been dumped. In fact she looked somehow victorious—triumphant.
“My husband has told me all about your pathetic little liaison. You’re nothing but a grubby little hooker. And now it’s over. Isn’t it Alistair?”
“Yes. Sorry. All good things and all that.” Alistair looked very embarrassed. He couldn’t even meet her eye.
“Alistair. You can’t finish it like this. Won’t you even talk to me?” She couldn’t believe Alistair was saying it was over. He loved her. He was going to leave his wife.
His wife didn’t give him a chance to speak. “Now, don’t get emotional. Surely you knew it would end like this. You didn’t think it was any more than just Alistair thinking with his dick?”
She couldn’t help it. Her eyes were filling with tears.
“Did you think it was the big romance? Aah. If you’d not been fucking my husband for the last six months, I might almost feel sorry for you—you foolish naïve girl. Next time a man comes along with a big pocketful of cash and an inability to keep his pants on—see it for what it is. And if you really want him, marry him before you give him everything he wants.”
“He said he didn’t love you. He said he was going to leave you.”
“Of course he did. They always do. But if you hadn’t noticed, he hasn’t left me, has he? And he won’t. But I’m not foolish enough to think it’s because he loves me. I know it’s because I’m the one who owns the company. I’m the one with all the money, and a cast-iron pre-nup. If he leaves me—he goes back to where he came from—a penniless gigolo.”
“That’s a little bit harsh darling,” Alistair protested, weakly.
“I know you love to spin that ‘rags to riches’ story, but don’t ever forget, it was your rags and my riches. And you can have your rags back any time you choose.” She looked at Justine again. “And honestly, would you still want him when he was penniless and unemployed?”
“I—I…”
“Thought not. Now, come along, husband dearest. Say goodbye to your little fuck buddy. You won’t be seeing her again. Now let’s try and salvage something from this appalling evening.” She walked away, her hand gripping Alistair’s arm firmly.
He turned, “Goodbye. It was fun.”
“Is that it?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She walked in a dream towards the exit.
Peter, her boss approached her. “So, it’s true? It was you?” he asked.
She nodded miserably. She didn’t even have the energy to lie to him.
He shook his head slowly as she walked away.
Half an hour later she got a terse text from Peter: ‘Meeting, tomorrow, nine am, my office.’ And her fate had been sealed.
While she hadn’t exactly been sacked, her boss had been clear that she would be relegated to very minor cases from now on. She would be treated like an intern who couldn’t be trusted. “I’m sorry Justine—but as you know, this business is all about public perceptions. And the public perception of you right now is not good. You can’t be seen to represent this company in any way. You made a serious error of judgment—and you’re lucky I’m not going to a formal disciplinary on this. It would be wise to start looking for another job.”
Back then, she’d thought it was the end of the world. She’d been caught out giving her boyfriend head, then she’d been dumped—in public—by his wife—and then she’d lost her job.
Most of her friends from the office had dropped her like a hot potato—afraid they’d be associated with her bad judgment and fall from grace. She hadn’t been able to tell her family what had happened or why she was suddenly changing jobs. It was only Bethany who kept her going.
They were dark times, and she never wanted to go back to feeling like that again.
She lay on the sofa, remembering how low she had felt then.
But somehow that all seemed nothing compared to never seeing Jackson again. She sighed and sank further back into the couch. She didn’t want to move, or think, or do anything.
She couldn’t face the world yet. She’d slept badly again. Her bed seemed uncomfortable and there was still that faint odd smell everywhere. She needed strip the bed and clean up properly and get everything sorted again. Just not yet.
Bethany messaged her – ‘You busy?’
She texted back – ‘Wallowing.’
‘Mud or misery?’ came the reply.
‘Just misery. Over with Jackson.’
‘Shopping. Meet me 1pm, Franco’s.’
She wasn’t sure she had the energy. She wasn’t even dressed yet. She needed to clean up her apartment. She had to run errands and go grocery shopping.
Another text came in. ‘No excuses.’
Justine smiled for the first time since she’d been back in the city. She messaged back—‘Okay. See you there.’
She immediately felt better. It would be good to get out. After a shower and getting dressed she felt good to go.
The café-bar was busy, full of shoppers, drinkers and people having a good time. It was good to be out and about—instead of sitting home moping about Jackson.
“It’s awful without you,” wailed Bethany as soon as Justine sat down.
She smiled. Any thoughts of Bethany comforting her were disappearing. It seemed that her role was to look after Bethany. Well, there was nothing like someone worse off than yourself to make everything look rosier.
“Go on—tell me what’s happened.”
“So I’m in
charge, but Fiona, Bernadette and Summer won’t do anything I say. Whenever I tell them anything, Summer just gives me that dumb look and asks a million questions like I’m not explaining it, or I’ve missed bits out. Then I get confused and they all start smirking. And the other day Fiona lost the documents I gave her to copy and claimed she’d given them back to me when I know she hadn’t and Bernadette said her mother had the same skirt as the one I was wearing…”
Bethany went on and on about office dramas and politics.
Once, Justine realised, this would have been her entire world too. Who had said what—the veiled insults and bitchy comments—the constant jostling for position and one-upmanship—it had been the air she breathed. But not now. Her life seemed to have taken a very different turn.
Now her head was full of the mysterious Jackson—and his sexy brother who might be crazy—and a gun in the glove box—and naked people having an orgy in the woods—and animals attacking her.
Finally Bethany stopped talking about the office. “So what’s happened between you and Jackson? I thought you weren’t getting into anything?”
“No, I wasn’t.” She took a sip of her coffee. “But I did.” She grinned widely at Bethany and they both laughed.
“But it’s over already?”
“Yeah, I guess so. He says he’s really into me—but he can’t get involved.”
“You mean he says he can screw you but not see you? Or he can’t do anything?”
“Well, we did it once. But now he says he can’t even see me.”
Bethany raised her eyebrows.
For some reason, Justine felt she wanted to defend Jackson. He wasn’t a user. It was more complicated than that. “I know, I know. It doesn’t sound good. But I did kind of believe him. He’s not your usual schmuck. I don’t know what it is about him. He’s a little odd.” Did ‘odd’ really cover turning up at a bar to ‘protect’ her—sleeping on the floor like an animal—and coming from a town where midnight orgies were the norm?
“Still being mysterious?”
“Yep.”
“And sexy?”
“Oh definitely.”
“And now he can’t see you again?”
“Yep.” Justine sighed. “I certainly know how to pick them.”
“So what happened exactly?”
How much could she tell Bethany? How much would Bethany understand? It all sounded so crazy. “I went down to his hometown, with him and a couple of eco-warriors from the office.”
“Ooh – nice—a trip away. Was it a decent hotel?”
“Not exactly. There aren’t any hotels out there.”
“Seriously? No hotels? Not even two or three star ones?” Bethany looked horrified.
Justine giggled. Bethany was even more of a city girl than she was. ”It was more of a hunting lodge.” She knew Bethany would be imagining some kind of luxury log cabin with a hot tub and a big open fire, and probably a maid or two to clean up and cook.
“Lovely—so romantic. Did anything happen?”
Justine remembered her uncomfortable bed in the dorm room—the sound of the animals in the darkness—creeping through the lounge—and then the way Jackson had leapt on her, thinking she was an intruder. She smiled at Bethany. Her idea of a big adventure was to check out a new bar in a slightly dodgy part of town. It was hopeless trying to explain what it had been like.
“Yes. We had a kind of midnight tryst—and one thing led to another and we made out.”
“I knew you would. What was he like? Was it good?”
Justine nodded. It had been hurried—urgent – forceful—but exciting and satisfying too. “Pretty good. Hot—you know—passionate. Like he really wanted me.”
“I wish Alistair was like that. I don’t think he really cares about me.”
Justine gazed at her, wondering if Bethany cared about Alistair either. She had known he was a player. She had known he’d only just split from Justine and that he was—despite everything he’d said to the contrary—very much a married man. What had Bethany expected? But Justine didn’t say anything—she just nodded sympathetically. It was easy to make stupid decisions where men were concerned. She knew that all too well.
Bethany carried on. “You know, he’s getting worse. Last week, he … I can’t tell you.” She stared miserably into her glass. “I don’t want to think about him. Tell me about your guy. Why is it over already? You’ve only just started.”
Justine shook her head. She was wondering the same thing. It felt like she and Jackson needed more time together—like they could spend months, years even together and she’d only just be starting to get to know him. “I don’t know. He’s complicated.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“He’s got these other commitments. He’s involved in things. I don’t know what really, he won’t tell me. But he says it’s dangerous and we can’t be together.”
Bethany held her gaze, her eyebrows raised.
“I know, I know—it sounds dumb. But I believe him.”
“Justine, what’s happened to your bullshit detector? He’s married, and he’s trying to cover it up by pretending he’s got some glamorous career going on. He’ll be telling you he’s a spy or a secret agent next!”
Justine shook her head stubbornly. “He aint got no wife,” she said, remembering the gap-toothed shopkeeper.
“You sure? What about kids?”
Justine shook her head. “It’s more like a community thing. The people down there—in his hometown—they’re kind of weird.” She thought of the scene in the hunting lodge. They had been partying in the most extreme way.
Bethany nodded. “You only have to go ten miles away from the center of town and people start getting strange. God only knows what they’re like all the way out there. But I don’t get why that means you and he can’t get it together. Is he Amish or something?”
“No—almost the opposite in fact. Look, I saw some weird stuff going on down there. I missed the flight out and went back to the lodge. There were a load of the locals in there, having a party.”
“That’s not really sounding weird yet. Or a reason why he can’t see you.”
“They were having a sex party.”
“Ooh, an orgy. I’ve always wanted to go to one of those.”
“It was kind of weird though.”
“Was Jackson there? Orgy-ing away with all his towns-folk?”
“No. But…” How could she make Bethany understand when she didn’t get it herself? All she knew was, when Jackson looked into her eyes and told her they couldn’t be together—she believed he had good reason, even if it felt like the end of the world.
“Are you going to join in the orgies?” Bethany giggled.
Justine imagined making out with other people there watching—doing it themselves—swapping partners—all joining in. She felt that familiar flare between her legs. She couldn’t deny that the thought intrigued her—and more than that it turned her on. But it was all irrelevant. “No. I’m not—because it’s over—like I told you. I won’t see him again—not like that.”
And she’d not even mentioned the dog, or wolf or whatever it was, and how terrified she’d been and how Jackson had rescued her. She didn’t want to talk about him anymore. She wanted to shop and chat about clothes and shoes and normal ordinary things. “I heard there’s a sale on in the shoe department at Sacha’s.”
Bethany was virtually out of the door before she’d finished speaking. Justine finished her drink and followed her out. Shoes, clothes, purses – that was all she’d think about. She wasn’t going to think about Jackson and his crazy messed-up world again.
They spent over an hour in the shoe sale, trying everything on. Bethany slipped on a pair of very high metallic silver shoes with straps and buckles.
“You look like a very classy pole-dancer,” Justine commented.
“How did you know?” Bethany asked, looking forlorn.
“What?” Justine was trying on some fabulous red peep toe shoes
with long, slender, metal-tipped heels. They were far too expensive and she knew she couldn’t wear them to her office—they’d probably set off some kind of alarm as she walked in.
She grinned, imagining the security guard wrestling her and her smoking-hot shoes out of the building—and not letting her back in until she had something altogether more sensible on.
“Don’t laugh. That’s what I am now—as good as. Alistair makes me dance for him—you know—lap dances. And not just for him.”
Justine looked at Bethany in surprise. This sounded like a new low—even for Alistair. “What—can’t he afford to go to those clubs anymore?”
“Sure he can. But he likes me to do it, for him and John. You know the other guy.”
“Has it happened again, you know, you and John and Alistair?”
Bethany nodded. “He’s there nearly all the time now. Sometimes Alistair just watches. Sometimes they both join in.”
“Still hot?”
“God yes. But I’m not sure about it. I mean, I don’t even know John.”
“It sounds like you know him pretty well to me.”
Bethany smiled. “Yeah, I suppose. But it’s just so obvious that I’m a nothing but a…” She trailed off. “I just wish I could get rid of Alistair.” She sighed, fumbling for her credit card.
“I had no trouble. All it took was his wife to yank him back into line. Maybe you should find a way of letting her know. She’ll soon have him back on a tight leash—for a while at least.”
“Poor woman.”
“Poor? I don’t think so – not in any sense of the word. I think she knows exactly what she’s doing and what—and who—he’s doing.” Justine remembered the way Alistair’s wife had seemed entirely in control of the situation. Like she had said—she was the one with the money and the power. Perhaps she just kept Alistair out of some kind of pride—although his affairs must be the worst-kept secret in town. Or perhaps she liked having him as a whipping boy and telling him off and reminding him who was the boss. Or maybe she had her own lovers. It was impossible to know what really went on between a couple—what made them tick. Marriages were strange—and theirs seemed stranger than most.