by Eva Mazza
Five
Patty had sobered up. She knew this because performing oral sex on her boss had begun to make her queasy and a lot less lusty. However, the outcome kept her motivated to finish what she had begun.
As her mind began to clear, she realised the impact this could have on Jen should she ever find out. She liked her; it just baffled her how blind Jen was (or pretended to be; the jury was out). But Patty knew that, for the most part, it was easier to turn a blind eye than confront the truth. Perhaps she would’ve done the same if she was in Jen’s well-heeled shoes?
“John-John wants you, baby,” he groaned. “Can you feel how hard he is?”
I should have known! she thought as her mouth wrapped around John-John. John’s type named their dicks to apportion the blame should they be accused of any sexual impropriety.
She wanted to gag. Luckily Patty was a girl who was good at blowjobs – expert in fact. So, John and his insatiable prick’s demands weren’t anything she couldn’t handle. Her boss wasn’t any different to the many men with whom she had come into contact. They probably dreamed of her in the very same position she was in now, and tonight was John’s lucky night. Or so he thought. One of the main reasons for employing her, he had said, was because he was convinced that his clients’ prurient thoughts would increase their wine sales figures exponentially. And how right he was. She was creaming it. Unlike Jen’s friends, she had to work to live, so she had always used what talents she had to her advantage.
She regretted not having drunk more. Alcohol made her think less, and thinking about Jen had made her feel guilty. She was the only one who gave Patty the time of day. They had chatted occasionally, and she had invited her to a movie once. Patty had declined because she didn’t want to cross any boundaries between her work and her personal life, but she’d been grateful to her for her kind gesture.
The furore Jen’s speech had caused had given Patty the gap she was waiting for. She remembered being surprised by Jen. She had shown some guts. Good for her! “Nowhere to go.” How dare John? Then he draws attention to her pants! Horrible pants, admittedly, but still. Jen had retaliated. She had spoken out in front of the Stellenbosch gentry, and that’s why Jen was ensconced in her bedroom and Patty was fucking her boss.
Patty remembered being pulled from her seat. “You’ll have to be my partner for the evening!” John had shouted drunkenly over the loud music. “My wife has locked herself in our bedroom and we can only assume she has passed out.”
Patty obliged. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know,” he shouted back. “Frankie says she had a word with her about the speech so maybe she’s feeling a bit embarrassed. I did try, but the princess is not coming out of her chamber.” He laughed. “It’s my party and I feel like a fucking thirty-year-old!” The revellers on the dance floor whooped in delight.
“Here, feel my abs.” He grabbed Patty’s hand and placed it on his stomach. “Not bad for fifty-five?”
Patty humoured him. “Not bad at all, John.”
John laughed at her and grabbed two shot glasses from one of the waiters circulating the dance floor. “Come! You need to catch up. Two for you, Madam.” Patty obliged and downed both glasses. She knew the mix would have an immediate effect, but she didn’t care.
“Do you want me to show you something harder?” said John.
Patty moved in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “I don’t know, John. You’ve been desperate to show me something hard from the first time we met.”
“Come on, Patty. You exaggerate.”
Patty lifted her manicured finger to his mouth. “Ssh. I haven’t finished.”
John looked back at her expectantly. She smiled. “I guess it’s on these occasions that one should be more indulgent, especially since you’ve made me very drunk. And I haven’t bothered to get you a present.”
They teased each other on the dance floor until most of the guests left. Patty remembered Frankie giving her the hairy eyeball and rejecting Lee’s attempts to get her to leave the party. With everyone finally gone, John grabbed Patty’s arm and led her across the lawn to the tasting room. It was there that the real fun began.
Patty was too busy focusing on getting John to climax to hear his wife enter. If he hadn’t lost it, she wouldn’t have realised that something was wrong.
Jen was virtually inaudible. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She thought it was her conscience speaking to her, as it often did. She did have morals! When she finally realised it wasn’t her voice but Jen’s, she jumped up, then stupidly tried to recover some decorum by attempting to stop her boobs from falling all over the place. Patty shuddered. This was not the outcome she wanted. She recalled the way Jen had said, “Patty?” as if she had been stabbed in the back. What was that Shakespearean line? Oh yes, “Et tu, Brute?” She couldn’t get past that image of her, vulnerable and betrayed. Yes. Me too, Jen. I’m sorry.
John was caught with his pants down. Literally. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
He hadn’t heard Patty laughing. When he eventually did, he barked, “Jesus Christ! What’s so fucking funny, Patty? Jen has just walked in on us! Christ!” He pulled his pants up and zipped his zipper. He rubbed his temples. What have I done! Patty had stopped laughing. Thankfully. When he finally looked at her, he saw that her top had been buttoned up and her breasts were back in place. After all that had happened, he still couldn’t help thinking how fucking hot she was.
“Sorry, nervous reaction, I guess. Well, aren’t you going to run after her?” Patty asked.
John sat with his elbows on his knees, still rubbing his temples. “I can’t. That would just cause a scene. She’s hysterical. Give her time.” He was advising himself it seemed. He’d seen Jen’s face. Shit! He felt so bad for his wife. He had hurt her. It was never his intention to hurt her. He loved her. What the fuck had he done?
Patty’s heels clicked on the stone floor. He looked up to see her bend over the candle and blow it out. One blow. They hadn’t managed to finish what they had started. He had been cheated out of the best blowjob and he was pretty sure there would never be another chance with Patty. What the fuck is wrong with me?
As if reading his mind, Patty said, “You’re a sociopath, John. Your wife has just caught us red handed and you’re looking at me like that. Have you no shame?”
He rubbed his scalp vigorously and said, “I know. I know! I can’t help it. I feel shit, Patty! You don’t have to tell me how shit I feel. I know.” He looked tortured. “But…” She folded her arms just under her breasts, pushing them up, making them look even bigger. “But I feel shitter for John-John.”
“It’s very off-putting, you know?” He watched as she smoothed out the wrinkles of her pencil skirt.
“What’s off-putting, Patty?” There was nothing off-putting about her. He recalled the night’s events: how she had pushed that very same skirt slowly up over her voluptuous hips. He had always perved over her butt. And now he had seen it, squeezed it, grabbed it.
“Naming your dick,” she said.
She made him feel ridiculous. All he wanted to hear was how horny he had made her.
Maybe if she’d told him, he wouldn’t feel so incredibly shit. “You drive me wild. Even with the crap you’ve caused.”
“Really, John! It’s all my fault? You plied me with drinks, remember? I was drunk. I could say you took advantage of me, Mr Pearce.”
John was starting to feel vulnerable. His wife was out there somewhere, betrayed and hurt. And Patty? Was she implying…? “Uh-uh; you lifted your skirt to tantalise me. What was I supposed to do?”
Her full lips parted into a broad grin. He was mesmerised. Those lips were around my cock, he reminded himself. Then, Jen saw. You stupid sick dick!
Patty interrupted his thoughts. “You ordered me to show you my butt, remember.”
Jesus! How could he forget? He leaned back against the wall, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “I can’t help wondering why y
ou agreed after months of batting my advances?”
“I never agreed. You made me very drunk. You took unfair advantage of me, John.”
Was she being serious? “Bullshit. You were so ready, your panties were off.”
“I never wear panties.” She shifted her bottom so that she was sitting on the table top.
He remembered his mouth on her, the taste of her and his fingers anxious to explore her. He had brought her to a climax more than once. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you, Patty, but if you’re thinking of joining the #MeToo group, you don’t qualify.” He laughed sardonically at his own joke. “You were so wet I could’ve bottled your juices.” She had tried not to, but he had noticed her flinch. His tone had become ugly, he was unsure why.
“Too crude for you?” he asked. She didn’t answer. Her deadpan expression made him even more uneasy. “Come on, Patty. I was joking.”
“Do you talk to your wife the way you speak to me, John?”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
“Nothing. Just wondering. It makes me sad that poor Jen doesn’t know the real John Pearce.”
“Jen knows the real me. We’ve been married for twenty-four years. We love each other. She’s a good wife and an excellent mother. What we did, you know it’s not love.”
She stood up to leave. He tried to stop her. “You’re as to blame. You seduced me, Patty. I’m married. And you ask me if I’ve no shame. Where’s your shame?”
He felt Patty prise his fingers one by one from her arm. Her eyes bore into his as she spoke. “If you’re trying to tell me that you and little Johnnie…”
“John-John.”
“Whatever, John, really! If you’re trying to tell me that I am the only person you’ve broken your sacred marriage vows with, then you insult my intelligence.”
John frowned.
“Secrets turn into ugly truths when exposed. I’ll start with your constant sexual harassment of me.”
“Jen’s hardly going to believe you after seeing you suck my dick.”
“You’re right.” Her voice sounded strangely upbeat. “That’s why I’ll have to tell her about your once-a-month poker evenings.” John’s eyes widened. Prompted by the attention this evoked, she continued. “I think this information may hurt even more because every one of your friends goes down with you, don’t they, John? While your wives do book club, you all frequent an illegal sex club in Cape Town.”
He moved his face threateningly close to hers as he spoke. He noticed she stood her ground. “You wouldn’t do it. You’d go down with us. You’d have to tell Jen how you know.”
“Of course, I would. It would be worth it. Working at the sex club didn’t make me a slut, John. Working for you did.” She turned to leave.
“You’d be fired and then you’d have no income. Nobody’s going to employ you. You’ve got more to lose than you think.” She didn’t answer.
He shouted after her, sneering, “You wouldn’t dare! You’d have nowhere to go.”
Six
Jen didn’t know why she had run. She hadn’t given it any thought until she’d realised how tired she was getting. She had crossed the farm’s boundaries and passed over three of the neighbouring vineyards. Fight, freeze or flight – that’s what they called it. She had chosen flight after standing frozen for what seemed like ages.
It was only when she passed a group of farm labourers and their families making their way to church, that she realised that it must have been – depending on how one regarded it – as late or as early as seven in the morning. She saw their panicked faces as she approached. The sight of her dishevelled hair and swollen eyes meant choosing whether to greet her (thus acknowledging that they’d seen her and that something was certainly wrong in the perfect world of the white madam) or to ignore her (a show of blatant disrespect and a disregard for social standing).
Jen solved their dilemma by greeting them. “Môre,” she chirped as if it were normal to run barefoot through vineyards in last night's dress-up. They stood aside to let her pass. “Môre, mevrou,” they mumbled back.
As she passed them, one of the children asked, “Is mevrou orright?”
His father jerked his arm to silence him. They were serious and cordial now, but Jen knew that by tonight they would be feasting on her transgression.
Under normal circumstances she may have noticed the ripening grapes: a glorious season in the winelands and the most popular time to photograph.
She had a flashback to her husband and Patty. He had called Patty, “Baby”! Baby was reserved for her. Well, that’s what I thought. She suppressed the urge to vomit. The image of the two of them together brought Jen to an abrupt halt. Her legs could take her no further. Her phone dropped as she doubled over, gasping for breath. She fell to her knees to retrieve it. Her hands shook as she dialled her best friend’s number.
Frankie picked up immediately. “Have you come out of your room, Rapunzel?”
“Frankie!” Jen sobbed.
“Jen! What’s wrong?”
Jen couldn’t speak for her sobbing.
“Okay, Jen, I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you last night.” Jen could hear Frankie sigh a little impatiently. “But you embarrassed John. On his birthday. You embarrassed us all.” Jen became even more inconsolable. “It will pass, Jen. John will get over it. We all will.”
“Frankie, I saw John…” She couldn’t finish her sentence.
“Jen. I can’t hear you.”
Jen tried again. “I saw… I mean, I caught John. He was with someone!”
Silence.
“Frankie, are you there?” She checked her phone.
“With that whore?”
A flashback to Patty’s boobs. Spilling everywhere.
Jen’s sobs affirmed Frankie’s suspicions.
“The fucking bitch!” She sounded furious. Good. Jen needed an ally. She needed someone on her team.
She laughed miserably. “Her boobs aren’t fake by the way.”
Frankie ignored her friend’s attempt to make light of the situation. “I tried to warn you about Patty. We all tried to warn you! I told you that women like her are marriage wreckers. But no, you liked her.”
Jen slumped down with her bum in the sand. “Please, Frankie. Stop lecturing me.”
“She’s a wannabe, from some shitty place. She wants what you have, Jen.”
Jen drew circles in the sand with her manicured finger as she spoke. “I could’ve said the same about you when you started dating Lee.” She didn’t mean to say this. Her words had just spilled out.
Jen heard Frankie inhale deeply. “Ok, I’ll let it go because you’re emotional. I never wrecked a relationship to marry Lee. Ag! I don’t know how to explain it to you. You can just see she’s a slut. I don’t know how you missed it.”
“I’m trusting?” Was she trusting or just plain blind?
“I banged on your door last night; I sent you text messages.”
I know. Which I chose to ignore. “I thought you wanted to lecture me again. About my speech.”
“Jen. She was all over John. I couldn’t stay at the party the whole night. God knows I tried, but Lee needed to get home. What with his diabetes, he’s such a party pooper! I even told him to go home without me, that I’d Uber. He insisted we leave together. He said you were a big girl and that you could take care of yourself.”
Jen’s heart burst with love for her friend. She hadn’t had many friends growing up. In fact, Frankie was the only best friend she’d ever had.
“I really appreciate you trying to keep an eye out for me. You’re a good…” Frankie cut her off.
“The two-timing son of a bitch! How could he do this to you? You must be furious.”
“I’m sad, that’s all.”
“Well, I’ll kill him for you!”
At least she had someone in whom she could confide; someone who would help her through this. “Frankie, I’m really grateful that you kept an eye out for me,” she repeated.
“As I said, Jen, I couldn’t stand to see that slut all over John. He’s my best friend’s husband. It’s the least I could do. You’d do the same for me, my friend.”
She certainly would. Right now, though, she was confused as to what to do. What do women do in situations like these? she wondered. It’s not like she could turn a blind eye to what she had seen.
“What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to get the bitch fired, that’s what.”
“You know how I feel about cheating, Frankie. We’ve had this discussion before. I’ve always said that’s where I’ll draw the line.” Jen paused. She had never articulated the rumours she had heard to anyone, not even Frankie. But she knew people must have heard them. This is a small town after all.
“I’ve never spoken to even you about this, Frankie. There’ve been rumours about John. You must have heard them?”
“You don’t think this is a once off?” Frankie asked.
“I don’t know what to think. All I know is how cheated I feel. I don’t know if I can stay married to him. I mean what am I supposed to do? Do I divorce him? Jesus, Frankie. What the hell am I supposed to do?” Jen burst into tears again.
“Jen, you’re forty-nine! You’re not going to divorce him and make it easy for him and difficult for you. Best believe, once he’s single, he’s not going to be mourning your loss. Older men are much more appealing than older women. Trust me, Jen. I have cum-ed in this area. Pun intended.”
Jen laughed despite her misery.
“Look, forget about rumours. There are always going to be rumours. Do you think there aren’t rumours about Lee? Or Frans? Rumours will remain rumours unless you decide to expose them. And you don’t want to do that, Jen. As for last night; it’s a once off. John is a good husband and father. You know he loves you. And you love him.”
“Does he? He’s a good way of showing it.”
“Come on. Lines always blur. Think about what you’re saying. Are you going to allow some floozy to enjoy the spoils of years of hard bloody work? The sacrifices you’ve made as a wife? And what’s going to happen to you once you’re divorced?”