by Heidi Lowe
I didn't last very long. Four, maybe five minutes. Who knew? I was too delirious to keep track.
She slipped her fingers out immediately after my climax, and left me clinging to that wall for support, following my dizzy spell.
Having regained some of my breath and energy, I twisted around to see where she'd gone. She was sitting on the couch, magazine in her lap.
I just gawked at her, eyebrows furrowed. She screws me and then starts reading a magazine, without saying a word? Who the fuck does that?
This wasn't the way I wanted her, I realized that as soon as she began working on me. It was impersonal, rough, without affection. I could have been anyone to her...anyone, or no one. I felt like no one in that moment.
I pulled up my panties, body still trembling slightly from the powerful orgasm. She didn't look up at me once.
"So that's it?" I said, that sick feeling filling the pit of my stomach.
"Yep, that's it." She still didn't look at me. "That was what you came down here for, isn't it? I mean, according to you I'm a whore, so that makes you my john. You know where the door is."
Stunned, confused, but above all furious, as I was leaving, I whacked the magazine out of her hand and called her a bitch. She heard that, but thank God I had already reached the driveway before I burst into tears.
TWELVE
Violated. Used. Abused. Did I say violated? Those were just some of the things I felt in the days following my midnight tryst with the scarlet woman. I kind of expected that sort of treatment from sleazy men, not a well-to-do woman with her shit together.
The blame fell on me and me alone. I'd cheated on my boyfriend in the worst way imaginable, and done so without a second thought. My boyfriend, who'd been loving, kind and just an all-around great guy. I'd put our relationship in jeopardy for a roll in the hay with a she-devil. Was it worth it? Was the toe-curling, heart-stopping orgasm worth all the trouble that came with it? Now that it was over and I'd seen Scarlett for what she really was, I could say, without a shadow of a doubt, no! Not worth it at all.
My job now was to forget about my infidelity, forget about the best orgasm I'd ever had, but most importantly, forget about Scarlett, and avoid her like the plague she was...
So you can probably imagine the fight I put up when, a week after the Scarlett fiasco, Marcus brought up the annual spa weekend his mother and sister took, and told me I would be joining them.
Marcus and Norman were already seated at the breakfast table when I came down that morning. An assortment of fresh fruit, croissants and a beaker of orange juice was laid out. His mother was putting together, from what I could see, an appetizing cheeseboard. My stomach rumbled from hunger.
"Morning, sleepy head," Marcus greeted, getting up to kiss me and pull out my chair.
I greeted everyone, thankful that the vixen wasn't dining with us. She'd skipped all but one breakfast since our session a week prior, which had been a total blessing. Apparently she wanted to see me about as much as I wanted to see her.
"We were just talking about you, love," his mother said, setting the cheeseboard on the table. The sun poured in from the floor to ceiling windows, blazing through the glass and heating my skin up. Almost every day had been like this; so much so that I'd begun to doubt the often repeated tales of the foul British weather.
I gave her a nervous smile, then turned questioningly to Marcus. "You were?"
"Marcus mentioned that you wanted to see Wales while you were here. Scarlett and I have a spa trip booked this weekend. So you're coming with us."
Fiona's beaming face seemed sinister at that moment. To anyone else her smile was innocent, but to me, having the burden of guilt weighing me down, and my dislike for Scarlett making her unbearable to be around, this invitation felt calculated, like a trap.
"I'm not really a spa kind of gal," I said with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
His parents exchanged perplexed, amused looks. Even Marcus found my comment funny.
He laughed. "Who doesn't like spas? You'll love this place. It has three pools, two saunas, acres and acres of land, and a lake. In the near distance you can see the outline of the mountains. If I wasn't a guy, I would join you."
"This is a man-free zone, I'm afraid," Fiona said. She stroked Marcus's face, forcing him to bat her hand away in agitation, then she kissed her husband, who, unlike Marcus, was only too happy for her affection.
While his parents were whispering sweet little nothings to each other, I had some whispering of my own to do with Marcus.
"You should have asked me before you decided to ship me off to Wales for a weekend." Although my voice was level, quiet, inside I wanted to erupt in a barrage of swearing and screaming. What the hell was he thinking signing me up for this? Sending me off to a spa with the person I couldn't stand to be around.
He frowned. "What's the problem? It's just a spa, Jenna. I didn't sign you up to join the British army."
"You should have asked first is all."
"My mum and sister are looking forward to spending quality time with you, getting to know you without me around."
"Oh, I doubt that very much," I mumbled.
"So you don't want to go?"
No! Hell no I don't want to go. "That's not what I'm saying. I just..." No suitable, believable excuse came to mind. They would have thought it suspicious had I put up a fight, and as far as they were concerned, Scarlett and I were pals, and she hadn't stuck her fingers inside me a week ago, bringing me to climax! No, everything was peachy.
"I'd love to go," I said, putting on a smile while crying inside. That might have been the biggest lie I'd ever told in my life.
As we started breakfast, helping ourselves to fruit and pastries, in bounded Scarlett, looking fresh-faced and beaming from ear to ear.
"Good morning, everyone," she declared to her family, and didn't look in my direction. "It's such a lovely day."
It had been until you showed up, I thought miserably, cutting into my croissant.
"Scarlett, we'll be a threesome this weekend," her mother announced cheerily.
Scarlett looked at her, the smile slowly fading. "What do you mean?"
"Jenna's going with you," Marcus volunteered.
As if I had been the bearer of the bad news myself, she threw an accusatory look my way, all traces of her good mood dissipated. I watched her slender throat move as she gulped. She looked away, focused on cutting her pain au chocolat. She cleared her throat, then said, "I'm not sure they'll have another room available. I mean, we booked well in advance."
"That won't be a problem. Our suites come with sofabeds," Fiona said. "You and Jenna can share. It will be like a sleepover."
Scarlett almost choked on her breakfast. Marcus got up and patted her back a couple of times until she assured him she was fine. Boy did she not want me to come!
"Mother, we're grown women, we don't have sleepovers. I don't think Jenna would want to share a room with me." She looked at me to corroborate, desperation in her eyes. Something inside me, something defiant and cunning, made me want to exploit that. We both didn't want this, but maybe she wanted it even less than I did. If I could make her suffer, even a little, I was game.
I shrugged. "I don't mind, Scarlett. We could have late night talks about boys, that sort of thing." Everyone but Scarlett laughed. The look she gave me could have killed a dozen times over. And it was glorious to watch. I could be just as insufferable as she was.
"Well, if you have no problem with it then I don't," she said, as nonchalantly as she could manage. Too bad I saw right through her act. She hated the idea but she had to save face.
The hotel was a grand eighteenth century converted castle in Pembrokeshire, and sat on twenty acres of rolling green land, surrounded by a lake, with the beautiful, picturesque Preseli mountains overlooking. I'd never seen anything like it. Postcard perfect. The breathtaking view from the terrace in our suite almost made me forget how unpleasant the drive up had been. Fiona fell asle
ep in the front while Scarlett drove, and instead of speaking to me, risking her mother hearing us squabble, Scarlett chose to ignore me altogether. For three hours! So I just put my headphones in and listened to an audiobook. Not that I could concentrate on the story. Every now and then we would look at each other in the rear-view mirror. The tension in that car was real.
On the terrace, I rested my hands on the railing and peered out at the landscape, breathing in the fresh, mountainous air. Behind me in the lavish suite, Scarlett unpacked her overnight bag. We hadn't spoken a single word to each other since stepping out of the car. I planned to change that, if only to bug her.
"It's beautiful out there. Makes you forget all your troubles," I said when I came back into the room.
"Some troubles just seem to follow you wherever you go..." She cut me a look as she put a blouse on a hanger.
I laughed. "Oh, you're talking about me, aren't you?"
"Couldn't you have come up with an excuse to get out of this?"
"And give you the satisfaction of winning? Not a chance."
She rolled her eyes. "I was only trying to spare your feelings."
"How do you figure that?" This would be interesting.
"Well, you didn't take my dismissal of you very well the other night. I didn't want to trigger you."
Flabbergasted, my mouth dropped open. "Trigger me?"
"Yes. You don't take rejection very well, it seems."
Was this bitch for real? How had I walked right into this?
"You know what, Scarlett, I've already forgotten. About that night, about you. I'm here for the free spa and a chance to spend time with my future mother-in-law."
She folded her arms, vexed. "You'll never get as far as that, Jenna. Don't fool yourself. At this point I'm questioning why you haven't already hopped on a plane back to whatever no name town whence you came."
"Because Marcus is here, and I'm here for him." My shit-eating grin made her scowl even more. "He loves me, and I want to be with him." As I passed her on my way out of the room, I whispered, so close to her ear my lips grazed her earlobe, "And you sticking your fingers inside me and making me come all over your hand isn't going to change that."
I heard her breathing get staggered when I delivered my line. Had I aroused her, unwittingly or otherwise?
I had to catch my breath once the door closed behind me. And the throbbing between my legs wouldn't subside in a hurry. I had no idea how I would make it through the weekend, sleeping in the same room as her.
"If you could just lie on your stomach now," the masseuse said, as she rubbed oil into her palms.
I placed my head in the massage table headrest. Naked from the waist up, I felt completely exposed, even though there was no one else in the room but the two of us, and she couldn't really see anything.
"I haven't had one of these in over a decade," I said, trembling as her hands touched my back.
"Oh, no need to be nervous. Just relax."
I closed my eyes and let her work her magic, eradicate the knots and twists in my back.
"Is that an American accent I hear?"
"Mmm," I moaned, a sense of euphoria washing over me.
"Where?"
"Massachusetts."
"As in Boston? That's the only place I know, sorry."
"About an hour from there."
"Cool. What brings you to Wales?"
For a minute I had to think about that. My head felt like marshmallows, just a big, soft haze. Massages were like witchcraft.
"Visiting my boyfriend and his family."
"Cool," she said again.
I heard the door swing open, but all I could see were the fluffy black slippers enter, followed by the white work shoes of the masseuse.
Then I heard a loud tut, and even before she spoke, I knew it was Scarlett.
"Isn't there an empty room available?"
I lifted my head out of the rest and twisted to look at her, glaring. "You could always wait until I'm finished."
She tutted again and took her top off. I twisted my head away to give her privacy, but also because I didn't think catching even a glimpse of her chest would have ended well for me.
"Is your mom still talking to that writer lady?" I asked. The day before, while we were having brunch, Fiona had befriended an Australian woman who claimed to be a famous crime writer. Having been replaced by an older, much more interesting person, I slipped away and went to do my own thing. Scarlett clearly had the same idea.
"This is what she does, befriends every random stranger she comes across. The next thing we know, they're visiting us at the house and staying over."
I laughed. "That lady doesn't strike me as a writer."
"Me neither. She probably does something mundane, like book-keeping or something equally as dull... Mmm, that feels good."
It shouldn't have sounded as sexual or as indecent as it did. I looked over at her and noticed something on her lower back. A tattoo. From what I could make out, it was a playing card – the queen of diamonds. Fitting.
I knew at this point we were just tolerating each other, but I wanted to know what the story was behind the tat.
"Queen of diamonds? You don't come off as the tramp stamp type."
"We were all young and foolish once," she said, sounding bothered by my observation.
"How young?"
"Seventeen. The father of someone I was seeing at the time, he did it for me. Didn't seem to care that he was breaking the law. But then again, he had been in and out of prison his whole life, so..."
I wondered about the gender of the person she'd been seeing. Something about the way she said it made me suspect it was a woman. I didn't buy her story about Susan being her first. The way she'd handled my vagina, that wasn't the work of someone inexperienced, someone who'd only been with one woman. I just knew it. How far back did her lady-like go?
"Why the queen of diamonds? Is it a money thing?"
"It's nothing, just a stupid tattoo with no meaning."
I didn't buy that, either. And from the way she turned her head in the other direction, I knew our brief chat was over, and she'd tolerated me as much as she could.
Just as Scarlett had warned, her mother's new Australian friend became a permanent fixture in our trio, transforming us into a quartet. At dinnertime, when we all reunited, there she was at our table. A lone traveler who'd attached herself to the first group who would have her. Normally that sort of thing wouldn't have bothered me, but this woman could not stop talking. She made everything about her.
"Did you order the lobster? Oh, I remember the first time I tasted lobster..."
"That's a lovely dress. You should see the dresses I used to wear when I was your age..."
"Did you say this is your first time to the UK? Well, my first time was in the late seventies..."
And on and on and on. Though we were hardly each other's favorite people, Scarlett and I exchanged several looks while we listened to her babbling. Fiona, contrarily, was transfixed by her, for some unknown reason, hanging on her every word.
After dinner, which tasted divine but did a terrible job of filling me up, we all retired to the ballroom, where live music was being performed at a grand piano. And after a glass of red wine, I was ready to call it a day.
"I'm going to hit the hay now, I think," I said to the others.
"See you in the morning," Fiona said. "Sleep tight."
As I was about to head out, Scarlett also got to her feet. "I think I'll get an early night too. Goodnight, Mum. Audrey."
We left together, exchanged no words, not even in the elevator. Such had become our daily routine: ignoring each other unless we absolutely had to converse.
Inside our suite, I was fully expecting more of the same, that we would retire to our respective beds and wait out the morning.
She sat on the edge of her bed, watching me as I converted the plush cream leather couch into my bed. Eventually, when I'd had enough of her watching me without saying anything, I
said, "What is it?" That was the thing with Scarlett, you never knew what she was thinking. She always maintained the same straight face, well, mostly. Tonight, however, something had changed; something was different.
She pushed her hands between her legs, looked down, then said quietly, "I think I owe you an apology."
My eyebrows furrowed. "An apology? For what?"
"I may have been a little...harsh in my treatment of you the other night."
"No shit!" I laughed humorlessly, continued putting the bedding on the bed. "But that's just who you are, right? I know that now."
Too little, too late, Scarlett. You've already cemented your position in my mind as an evil, spiteful witch.
She cleared her throat. "Jenna, why were you so angry with me that night?"
I gawked at her in disbelief. "Are you kidding me right now?" I threw down the bed sheet and stormed over to her. "What, do you mean before or after you screwed me like I was a common prostitute you picked up off the street?"
"I'm sorry that's how it came off to you–"
"That's how it would have come off to anyone." My voice was the only one raised. For once I felt like I had the upper hand. But who was this new, contrite Scarlett, and what had she done with the fiery, unapologetic woman I knew? "Okay, I'll bite. Wanna know the reason I was so pissed off?" I swallowed, readying myself to share my deepest, darkest secret of desire. What did it matter now, anyway? There would never be a repeat of that night, and she could never redeem herself. "Because I didn't want you like that, so impersonal...so emotionless. That's why. Now it's your turn: why are you apologizing to me now?"
She looked away, and suddenly it all made sense.
"I didn't want you that way, either. I just...I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to feel the way I did."
Tears filled her eyes, teetering on her lashes, threatening to fall.
"I'm glad you're crying right now," I said, anything but glad. Despite what transpired, my heart weakened at the sight of her tears. "Because that's how I looked when I ran out of your apartment that night."