Under Purple Sheets

by Coco Houston

  I now have quite a selection of tattoos. On top of my newly acquired ones, I also wear my name at the base of my back with a tribal band with a playboy bunny above it. On my bum cheek sits a little lion cub he is stretching and yawning, and he’s an adorable character from a Disney movie. Besides, when I pass wind, I just blame little lion accusing him of roaring. Cute. Brad also asked me if someday I would get Bradford Riley Blake tattooed in English down my back, from top to bottom of my spine. Hmm! That’d be very sore, I thought. It could be a wedding gift from me, he explained, and he’d pay for it as my present from him. Well, we will have to wait and see. I would say that is way far more of a commitment than wedding vows and so much harder to remove, that’s for sure. No mention of him having a Coco tattoo. Hmm! Actions speak louder than words, so they say. That tattoo requested may or may not be done, as the marriage may or may not ever take place. So perhaps was my answer to both of those questions.

  I have two other tattoos in a seductive place, Brad knows where they are and likes to kiss my secret tattoos.

  When Brad arrives later that night, I show him what I’d got done, which he agrees are stunning.

  “Now you belong to me, Coco,” he informs me, smiling.

  “Oh! Really, do I, Blake?” I laugh back.

  “Yes, cow! You do, you’re branded mine!” he jokingly responds in a firm tone, leaning in to kiss me until I am out of breath.

  That evening we lay out in the garden together on top of those petals. They stick in my hair, and then having to be gently removed as my neck is red and very tender with the recent artwork on display. It is so romantic as silently we watch the clouds go by above our heads; the sweet scent of lilac is in the gentle evening breeze. The cherry blossoms above take me in my fantasies away to a Japanese garden, where I would be Brad’s Geisha girl forever. In Japan it is socially accepted among the married men to have a mistress, it takes years of training on how to perfect the whole culture of dress and mannerisms expected of them, which also includes the painting of the face pure white, the making of tea and being able to walk on tiny feet to perfection. Eh! No, so perhaps not Brad’s mistress in that country after all, but unlike here, there it is considered an honour to be one.

  As reality comes back to me, I wish I am as far away as Japan though, how could the love we have shared make us feel so numb, so scared, how could that be so wrong. Why? Who decides what is right and wrong when you love someone? Who sits on the council that governs the heart? Is it our conscience? I guess it is a sin to love a married man, classed as committing adultery. If it is, then so be it for, your honour, whomever you may be, I am charged guilty of love in the first degree!

  “I guess you need to go, Brad,” I break the silence, declaring the inevitable, my voice so filled with hurt. He knows I wanted him to stay.

  “Yeah, I guess I need to, baby, I wish I could stay though,” Brad replies solemnly as he stands up. “I love you, Coco,” he assures me, though I can hear the desperation in his voice too. He leaves. I hear the car engine start up then leave the street. I still lay for a while amongst those petals, just wishing and staring upwards. I watch the night sky turn to darkness. I get up feeling cold, I’d lain there dreaming a lot longer than I’d intended, now my clothes are damp on me from the dew of the grass and my tattoos are beginning to sting and itch on my skin. In the house I feel the air is still warm from the evening sun. I close the door on the sky while tears run down my face as I try also to shut out the pain in my heart. I lift my phone, it is flashing, and it’s acknowledging missed calls from Brad. Too late now for me to say goodnight, I miss you so much. He won’t come out again tonight to phone me back as he has to stay in that house with her. I put down the phone. I am wrong, as I walk away, the phone starts ringing. I turn around to see my phone flashing, informing me Brad is calling. I smile as I walk away. I don’t answer; I and just keep on going. I hear it ringing and ringing in the distance as I close my bedroom door. I smile sadly, now he can be upset all night wondering where I am, why I haven’t answered the phone. I have company with me tonight now, both of us suffering upon being hurt because of having an affair. There will be millions out there too, I guess, I just don’t know who they are. In my head for now, I’m a film star acting out the role of a mistress in a big Hollywood movie. I’m playing the part very well; I hear the director shout ‘That’s it for tonight, Coco, and well done you’re a superb actress.’ With my life you bet I am! I’m going to nominate you for an Oscar for this. Oh yes! I sure am doing brilliantly, especially at the part of hurt due to all this shit, so I’m bound to win it, right out the fucking park. I’m wondering how good I will be tomorrow as it gets harder and harder loving him, with each day that passes, it will surpass today; that I know for certain. In my head as I lay in a bath of cool water skimmed on top with a layer of tiny bubbles, I pretend the maid is laying out my silk nightwear, while the butler arranges my dinner to be served with chilled wine. Smiling, I get up, wishful thinking. I shall relax tonight, fuck it, tomorrow can take care of itself, which quite cleverly it does, because tomorrow never comes.

  5th April and My First Birthday with Brad

  Brad phones wakening me up to wish me a happy birthday. Last night on the table downstairs he left a card from him. Happy birthday to me, I think before getting myself out of bed. I pull on my robe, and then head down to the kitchen to open it. It’s beautiful with messages of love and fifty pounds in it. What a brilliant way to start my day, smiling this morning, no acting that part. I’m happy making coffee to have with cream cake; well, today I’m spoiling me.

  My son, River, comes downstairs, giving me my presents (perfume and chocolate). He wishes me a happy birthday, and then proceeds to make me French toast with chocolate syrup and blueberries for a birthday breakfast, which I also eat. Naughty but nice.

  After River is out for work, Brad arrives. Kissing me in between whispering that we will be spending my birthday in a very expensive hotel, where he intends to make love to me for hours. Fuck me all night were his exact words. I laugh, informing him that better be fact, not just a birthday promise. I’m excited so I’m looking forward to what Brad has planned, more so about spending precious time with him. Brad has to leave as usual in the morning, birthday or not. Kissing me he is sad at having to leave me again for now. He calls me as soon as he reaches his hometown. I hear the happiness in his voice return as he arranges to pick me up. I will make sure that tonight I look absolutely stunning, besides right now I’m glowing, I feel amazing.

  The great thing about making love with Brad this evening is that I don’t need to feel guilty about it, not for this one time. This is part of Brad’s present to me, so it has nothing to do with anything but me as today it’s my birthday. For once I wouldn’t actually care that the lies he intended to tell to her could stream to the moon and back, fuck her and to hell with him being married.

  I decide just to relax for a while in the garden as the house is immaculate. In a while I’ll sort out all my pretty new clothes with some underwear I need for tonight and tomorrow. Bag packed. Tan on with nails painted and I intend that later my hair would also be done to perfection. I spend some self-indulgence time now eating chocolates, drinking champagne that I bought for me, watching a movie in my lounge as I snuggle up with my wee dogs under my wolf fur throw. Now this is my heaven. After a while, the door knocks, it’s my fucking ex.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I yell at him, not amused at all; how dare he even show his ugly and arrogant face!

  “It is your birthday, Coco, I have come to take you out for dinner,” he replies as if in his world it’s the most natural request to make.

  “Fuck off!” I yell, slamming the door shut. Idiot! What made him think I’d ever want to see him again? The only good thing to come from that relationship was my child.

  He knew about me being with Brad from whispers around town, also he saw us together in the street a couple of times. He decided that I rejecting his dinner invitation was the per
fect opportunity to inform my kids and also notify my parents about my affair. They, however, already knew but had said nothing.

  With passing time our affair has grown more serious. More and more people are becoming aware of what is going on, so therefore the truth about us can out at any time now, especially with this bastard now threatening to tell Brad’s wife. When Brad picks me up, I tell him about what happened today and what he threatened to do to us. His behaviour towards me makes Brad angry but he promises to be supportive, whatever the circumstances are that follow this threat, also that no matter what events unfold, he will stand by me. I completely believe in his words with all my heart when he makes these promises that he will never leave me. We agree to forget about him, no way are we going to let this clown spoil my birthday. Brad comments on my looks when driving, I blow him a kiss loudly, saying about time, thank you. He smirks then he just laughs, shaking his head at me as I open wine, drinking it from the bottle, singing along to the music in the car. An old-fashioned song is playing. (It is also Michaels’ favourite song which he sings with so much emotion, reminds me of being in my limo New Year.) As the question is sung once more by the artist, I come back to the present as I shout over at Brad, “No, no, I won’t!” This time he laughs out loud; as I drink more wine, I wink at him.

  Brad drives for a while through the country until we stop outside a Gothic-looking old-fashioned little cottage. It is so picturesque, it looks captivating, like something you’d find on the lid of a biscuit tin or a chocolate box. This is our hotel actually and apparently it has only three bedrooms for rent, making it extremely exclusive. On going over the threshold, the décor is charming, it took you right back in time; it was as if you stood in times long gone by, which was not only a strange feeling but unusual because everything in the place was immaculate, brand new but in theme of ye olde worlde.

  We are led to our room by a mature gentleman, whom I assumed to be the butler due to the uniform he wore. The room is decorated with soft rose flower wallpaper, which sets off the thick pale rose-coloured deep-piled carpet scattered with cream sheepskin rugs around our feet. The room smells of vanilla mixed with fresh cut flowers. The bed takes pride of place in the centre of room; it is huge with four posters and an antiquated rose-coloured quilted bedspread looking so comfy it just demanded to be slept in. I can see it has soft pink cotton sheets under the quilt and huge pillows filled with duck down feathers. The butler shows us everything in the bedroom before explaining to us how everything worked in the en-suite bathroom. It has also captured a nostalgic feel about it as it wore with pride décor colours of cream and old gold. I step forward to admire the woodland view from the little window above the sink, as my hand accidentally rubs against one of the fluffy towels; it feels amazingly soft to my touch. Before leaving, the old butler informs us that he would be at our disposal all through the night; anything we requested, within reason of course, would be brought to us, and all we had to do was ring the bell to summon him. Nearby on a little table, which is rather kooky made with tree branches and old logs, there waiting for me is a little envelope wearing my name, beside it stands a bottle of champagne with a bouquet of beautiful wild flowers. On opening up the envelope, it holds a small delicate handmade birthday card saying COCO in dried rose and violet petals, inside there is a subscription wishing me happiness with a birthday to remember. I now notice a box wrapped in pretty paper with a dried rose tied into the pink ribbons, lying on the bottom of the bed. That is my birthday gift too. Under the wrapping I find a pink velvet box, inside of it is soft rose-coloured delicate tissue paper which looks to be covering with care, in my favourite shade of purple, the most beautiful silk shirt I’ve ever seen. This must’ve cost Brad a fortune as I imagined all this had to be included in the price of this evening.

  A little later dinner is served in our room as we sit on an opulent dining suite by the window, looking out over the meadows. The butler has placed in the middle of the table an antique vase with a quirky arrangement as it is filled with bluebells and bramble leaves from the woods nearby. He poured Moet champagnes lit candles, enhancing the smell of melting ice cream; the aroma of vanilla already in the room must’ve been drifting from them. He then brings our food, which is so good, the prawn and fresh cherry starter is exquisite. The lamb is cooked in mint leaves and is so tender, it just melts in our mouths; we both agree the dinner is delicious, even the rose and violet flavoured Eton mess is amazing. This very kind old man did his job with so much pride, treating us as if we were royalty from the minute we came through the door. Little did we know then that he would be the only person we would see during our entire stay there.

  After dinner liquors, we retire for the evening as the butler bows, bidding us goodnight. I opt for a deep luxurious bath in the vintage free-standing Victorian tub. As I slip into the warmth of the water, I feel my body totally relaxing amongst the lilac and lavender scented bubbles, which spreads a wonderful smell of nature’s flowers through the evening air once more. Afterwards using those cotton wool soft towels to dry myself with, I put on a long pure white silk nightdress, which slips over my head, sliding down my still warm skin it feels cool but refreshing as the material feels as light as a feather. Brad loved the way that type of gown flowed down my body, showing off my nipples; he loved both the feeling of the intricate material under his hands plus the silky ice feel of it brushing against his warm naked body. I look good wearing only this with wet hair and Channel perfume, I tell the mirror confidently. Entering back into the bedroom, Brad has his back turned to me but I can hear the pop of the bottle cork followed by a bubbling noise as he pours more of the costly sweet liquid into a champagne glass. Then rustling of the paper as he opens the chocolates, so I sit down with anticipation waiting to taste them both. Brad turns around on his way over, then stops in his tracks looking astonished as he says I am so naturally gorgeous as I sit as if in a portrait. He says he is bewildered as he can’t believe I am his. Putting down the tray, he opens a little box which also sat on it, then he takes me by the hand, pulling me back up onto my feet, kisses me so tenderly, then places a heavy necklace around my neck. On feeling his fingers shut a clasp, I look down to see the most beautiful diamond heart necklace I have ever seen sparkling and hanging around my neck.

  He promises to love me forever as he picks me up, carrying me towards the bed. Brad removes the silk negligee gracefully. Hungrily, he enters me as his mouth finds mine, my neck then my throat, covering them all with the lightest of kisses that feel like the wind blowing on my skin. He makes love to me on the bed, coming soon as fast he fills me with warm sperm. He lays me down on the floor, with the feeling of the sheepskin on my back, he enters me once more. He then holds me up in his arms, as I hold my arms around his neck with my legs wrapped round his waist, he comes more slowly this time, putting all his love into my as I come too, putting mine over him. Afterwards he tenderly lays me naked back down on the bed, kissing me hard until I feel like I can’t breathe. There I sit happily with Brad in the nude, drinking my champagne, eating chocolate, watching the sun go down as the woods grow mysteriously dark on this magical night. Holding the heart in my hand, it sparkles a thousand colours over my bare breasts; tonight he’d made me feel like a real princess. Brad pours me more champagne, whispering secret birthday promises in my ear of more lovemaking that is yet to come. I look over at the little card, it got its wish for me, and this is not only a birthday to remember but a night I would never forget. I had stayed in many splendid hotels but this little place is far by the most exquisite. As Brad makes love to me time and time again, he comes into me as well as all over me, sperm all over my face and eyelashes as he gently holds me by the hair, finishing the rest of it into my mouth, little droplets on my lips, which are by now bruised and swollen from him kissing me. In the darkness, with the only the moonlight shadowing the room, I give him everything a woman can give. I give him my heart in full as I open up to him like a flower to the sun.

  6th April

&nbs
p; I return home early in the morning. Just as the ex-partner arrives at the house. I don’t answer the door this time, so he starts banging on it hard and shouting out my name repeatedly. Then he goes all the way around the back of the house, standing on the bins, he manages to get the height needed to look in the kitchen window. He is now battering on it demanding I open the door. I look through the glass at the demented face, I just ignore him, turning away walking upstairs to my bedroom; he eventually goes away enraged, shouting he’s going to kill me if he does get in and he’s off to tell Brad’s wife about the affair. I accept the fact that the fucking idiot probably will for definite now, as this is the second time in two days he’s said this. Oh! I wonder about the neighbours, how much they heard. Oh! So what, I think they obviously see Brad coming and going; besides I don’t need to explain myself to them.

  Brad arrives at my place a little later, so we sit at my kitchen table talking. We decide to go to visit my parents’ house. Whilst we’re there a call rings on my mother’s phone. She answers; it’s Brad’s wife. She asks my mother if her husband is there, then proceeds to tell her that I am having affair with him. My mother denies Brad is there, whereupon she then requests that if my mother sees him, he is to be told to return home as soon as possible. Brad has to go, he tells us he’d come back soon. He leaves. My parents just sit with me, nobody says a word. Brad returns, as promised, telling my parents not to worry about it, he takes me home. He tells me that he’d admitted to his wife that it was true what the elderly woman had said about us. The phone call, he tells me, had been made by an old lady, who also gave her my mother’s house number. I know exactly who that was; it was the fucking idiots’ mother. He tells me that they’d found his house number by phoning all the numbers under the name Blake from the phone directory that were listed in his hometown area. By this time Brad’s wife had now told the whole of his family about the affair. The devastation of the fallout news of it being the truth is spreading fast, its after effects started on its path of destruction as in disbelief everybody is supposed to be suffering in shock, except for Brad’s mother. She knew her instincts were right all along. Brad arrives back at the house later to find me in the garden just sitting staring, talking to the blossoms on the grass. My friends in my head are back. The voices are singing songs as I blame Brads’ wife for it all, not me. On her finding out, she took something perfect and painted it red.