I wanted my revenge.
The restaurant booking was for 6.30pm that night. Mum picked up Issy from child care for me and I worked back to make up for the hour I’d lost that morning. There was not really enough time to go home and besides that I didn’t have my car, of course. I’d worn my favourite work clothes in anticipation, a navy blue woollen suit with a nipped-in waist and high-heeled black patent pumps, and touched up my hair and make-up in the staff bathroom, taking more time than was customary. Melanie had chosen not to go home either so I conned a lift with her to the restaurant.
Just before we left I checked in with Issy and Mum but all was quiet on that front. Mum doesn’t insist Isabel eats broccoli either, no doubt aiding and abetting my daughter’s slide into delinquency.
John was a popular guy so there was a big turnout for his farewell, eighteen in total, all seated at one long table. It was a Thai restaurant and the service, provided by two tiny, doll-like girls who looked about twelve years old - obviously Thai themselves - was remarkably efficient. We were a rowdy bunch, but because it was a Thursday night and most of us had to front up to work the next day it was only about 10pm when most people decided to call it a night. I had been seated up one end of the table next to Karen and Samantha, one of the sales reps that I actually did like. The FIFA World Cup finals had just concluded and we’d had a rip-roaring time debating the do-ability of the different players: David Beckham versus Harry Kewell, Lucas Neill versus the darkly handsome Italian defender, Alessandro Nesta, my personal nomination. The entire time I was having this conversation, however, I was conscious that the person in the world I most wanted to do it with was seated at the opposite end of the table, next to Melanie. I didn’t speak to him at all during the evening, although I was conscious of his presence at all times and our gazes met on more than one occasion.
In addition to having no car, I of course had no phone that evening, so as people started tallying up the bill I went up to Melanie and asked, ‘Hey, Melanie, would you mind if I used your phone to check with Mum if Issy is okay and ring a taxi?’
That’s when Alex said, ‘I live near you, Ellie, I don’t mind giving you a lift home.’
All I had to say was, ‘No, that’s too much trouble. I’ll just call a taxi.’ But of course I didn’t. That’s all it took in the end.
Alex lives in Balmain which, it is true, was quite close to my house. I’d known that he’d lived there all along but what I hadn’t known for a long time was when he had mentioned that ‘we have an amazing view from our apartment’, he was actually talking about ‘we’ as in he and his male flatmate, Paul, not ‘we’ as in he and his live-in girlfriend.
My legs were trembling when I hopped in his car but I was hoping I could pass that off as the cold. I suddenly couldn’t think of a single thing to say and we drove some way in silence.
Keen to break the uncomfortable quiet, I started making small talk. ‘I love Balmain - it’s one of my favourite suburbs with all the history, and so close to the harbour and all the brilliant restaurants and pubs.’
‘Yeah I love it too. It’s great if you’re single, with all the pubs - like England. There are not many places like it in Sydney. You know, it’s still quite early - you wouldn’t like to go to one of my favourite haunts now to have a drink, would you?’
‘Ah no thanks, no offence, but someone I know might see us together. I don’t want to be the subject of scurrilous gossip at Issy’s playgroup.’
‘Oh okay.’
‘But I don’t know if I want to go home just yet either. It’s not often I have a free night.’
‘You could come back and have a drink at my place. Paul has a great wine collection. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we borrowed a drop.’
We drove to Alex’s place. Paul was interstate with work. We had to ascend a huge flight of stairs to get there. It was a modern apartment, streamlined and well-equipped, but a little ‘beige’ and lacking in character. There were the standard black leather lounges and a flat screen TV and it could have passed for an anonymous hotel suite except for the incongruous sight of an exercise bike and weights in the corner of the living room. It was a typical bachelors’ apartment, I suppose, except that it was eerily neat for the home of two young guys. I was surprised about that, as the state of Alex’s office certainly never suggested he was particularly hung up on tidiness.
However, as promised, it had a huge balcony with glorious views over the harbour, so I could forgive it its other sins.
Alex poured us both a glass of wine, before we headed out to the balcony. The rain had stopped by this time but it was still mid-winter so I shivered a little in the breeze.
I sipped my wine and scanned the horizon, the familiar sight of the Harbour Bridge and the city lights beyond. Being a winter night there were few pleasure craft out on the harbour, but a Sydney Ferry was transporting a few late finishing passengers home, its headlights cutting a swathe through the night. It was a magical sight; one that I never tired of. Sometimes I feel a strange, almost maternal, affection for the city I call home, cantankerous beauty that she is.
‘It’s such a gorgeous view, Alex.’
‘Yes it is.’
Something about the way he said this made me turn around. He was staring directly at me.
‘That’s a bit corny, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it’s the best I can think of right now.’ He walked up next to me and said, ‘I’m a bit confused you see. I think you might want me to kiss you but I don’t want to get it wrong again.’
‘You won’t,’ I said.
He took aside my wine glass, put his mouth to mine and kissed me in a slow languorous way. A fire lit up between my thighs and I no longer felt the winter cold.
Then shyness crept over me and I found I couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d loosened his tie during dinner so I busied myself by undoing it. I unbuttoned another shirt button and kissed his neck with several soft kisses. It was hours since he’d shaved and his skin felt warm and rough on my lips. He smelt, as always, delicious.
I felt him exhale deeply. Then he put his hand under my chin, lifted my face to meet his and said, ‘I want you more than you could ever know, but I would never force you to do something you’re not comfortable with. You know that. So if at any time you feel you want to stop just say “stop” or “no” and I promise I will stop. You just have to say the word, you know.’
‘I know,’ I said.
So he kissed me again, but I didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘no’.
Then he pulled me close towards him, his fingers pressing tightly into my spine. I felt him growing hard against me but I didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘no’.
And when he took my hand and led me to his bedroom I didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘no’.
And when he unbuttoned my jacket and took off my bra and buried his head in my naked breasts still I didn’t say those words.
And, finally, when he hesitated above me, I didn’t say ‘stop’ or ‘no’. Instead I reached up to softly kiss his mouth and beckoned him in, sighing as I felt the glorious release of tension and desire that seemed to have been building for so long.
The thing is I was never going to say ‘stop’ or ‘no’. I knew exactly what I was doing when I walked up the stairs to his apartment that night.
13
Stepping over
So, on the night of 27 July 2006, when most Sydneysiders were settling into their beds in the ’burbs after a normal workaday Thursday and an evening in front of the box, I broke my wedding vows and began an adulterous relationship with my co-worker and boss, Alex Andersen.
Sex - it should really be the most intimate exchange that occurs between two people but so often there is no emotional connection of any kind: the prostitute and her client; the gay man cruising toilet blocks for some quick satisfaction; even the loss of my virginity in the back seat of an old Nissan Skyli
ne all those years ago. But for Alex and me, our first act of physical intimacy opened up a treasure trove of personal intimacies and I learnt more about him in that one night than I had in the previous six months of our acquaintance.
All night I tried to prise myself out of his bed. All night I failed. I was conscious that I did not have a functioning mobile phone and if Issy got sick and Mum wanted to contact me she wouldn’t be able to. I imagined lurid tabloid headlines - ‘Bad mother off bonking boss while daughter dies in fiery blaze’ - but still I couldn’t drag myself away. Alex’s bedroom had become my oasis from the troubled and confusing world outside, a world where I would have to face the consequences of my actions and acknowledge my new status as a faithless wife.
A very messy oasis as it transpired. When he’d led me to his bedroom Alex had tactfully turned on his bedside lamps, which spared me any worries of unflattering overhead lighting. Now that my eyes were no longer blinded by passion I noticed the untidiness. Not a horrid, fetid, stinky mess; just a normal guy mess - clothes on the floor, newspapers and empty coffee cups on his desk. This fitted better with the image I had from his work office.
‘Alex, your bedroom is a mess.’
‘I know. I would have tidied up if I’d known I’d be having company, but I didn’t. I certainly wasn’t expecting this. The good news is I washed my sheets on the weekend so you’re not likely to catch anything.’
‘I’m not really worried by it. It just doesn’t fit with the rest of your apartment, which is unbelievably neat. I can only presume your flat mate is the tidy one.’
‘Is he ever - he insists that I keep my bedroom door shut all the time. I tell him it’s unnatural.’
Well, he was certainly different to Tony in that regard. However, they did turn out to have a few things in common.
***
To know: of all the verbs used to describe the sexual act it’s that Old Testament one I most associate with this night. It was as though Alex wanted to know me entirely: exploring my body with his eyes, his hands and his mouth. I, in turn, began to know him: this dark-skinned, dark-haired, man-youth, so different from my husband, the only man I’d known intimately for over ten long years.
But there was an additional quality - a feverishness, a greediness - to Alex’s desire for me that night. He literally couldn’t keep his hands off me. It was as though he believed that this might be his only chance to experience these gifts and they would be snatched away again without warning. I’d had no thoughts on whether this was to be a one-off occasion or the start of something longer lasting. I couldn’t bring myself to think past the four walls of his room that night.
‘Tell me if I’m bugging you,’ he said as he ran his hands over my breasts for the umpteenth time that evening. ‘Part of me still can’t believe you’re here. And you’re just as lovely as I ever imagined. Especially your breasts - I knew that you would have amazing breasts.’
What was it about my breasts? I had never thought them particularly remarkable; they are certainly no more than average-sized. I began to feel they must have had some special quality that I was unaware of. Whatever it was I was very grateful for it, and made a mental note to take them aside and thank them personally when I got home.
‘So, all this time, when I thought you were admiring my sparkling wit and business acumen, you were really just thinking, “Phwoar, nice tits”,’ I said, doing my best bricklayer’s impersonation.
‘Not all the time. I noticed those other things too.’
‘If you’re such a breast man I’m wondering why you didn’t go after Amanda. I hear she’s single these days’.
‘Well perhaps because she’s an evil cow.’
‘You noticed?’
‘Oh yeah, I had her sussed within a couple of days.’
Alex was amazing. I had no idea that he had seen through Amanda. He was always polite and friendly towards her and I had actually heard that, since she’d broken up with her long term partner, she’d had him in her sights. If only she knew!
‘Besides,’ he said, ‘I’m more into quality rather than quantity. Her boobs are so out of proportion with the rest of her body. I’m sure they must be fake. What a stick insect - if you bent her over your knee I bet you could snap her in two.’
‘Yes, and I’ve often wanted to.’
He laughed. ‘Ah, a bit of history there is there? Anyway, you can rest easy. I don’t find her attractive at all.’
Actually I don’t think Amanda’s are fake but I wasn’t going to tell him that. It’s possible my husband was on to something when he said I was becoming a bitch because I certainly took malicious pleasure from this little snippet of conversation.
***
‘I am still trying to work out how you thought I had a girlfriend all that time,’ he said later, as he ran his fingers through my hair. I had recently been thinking about getting it all cut off but now was having serious second thoughts.
‘Don’t remind me. I feel a right royal goose about that. I just assumed your sister was your girlfriend and thought it rude to pry, since you weren’t very forthcoming. As a matter of fact, I was envious of how loving you looked in that photo.’
‘I do love her but not in that way. There are laws against that sort of thing.’
‘Besides, in my defence, you did give off a vibe that you liked to keep things to yourself.’
‘Did I?…I guess I was a bit quiet early on because I didn’t want to talk about Julie. And apart from that I didn’t really have a private life - well, not one fit to talk about with my work colleagues anyway.’
‘Aha, you had a wild phase, did you?’ I enquired, eyebrow arched. I had a brief vision of a queue of gorgeous twenty-somethings outside the door, all lining up to be sired by him. Suddenly I felt rather staid and middle-aged and cursed my decision not to have that Brazilian done when I could. It was too late now; Tony would get suspicious.
‘For a while, but it’s not really me. I was completely faithful to my girlfriend for three years - I was planning to marry her - but when that all went sour I felt the need to cut loose. You’re not shocked are you?’
‘Not in the least, but maybe I do have to worry about catching something after all.’
‘No I was careful and used protection. For a start I don’t want any girls coming up to me claiming I’m the father of their unborn child. It’s not that I don’t want kids, but I want to choose who I have them with - and when.’
‘You haven’t used protection with me.’
‘Well this wasn’t planned…’
‘I take my pills religiously,’ I assured him. ‘I’m certainly not planning another baby anytime soon.’
Turning on my side, leaning on an elbow, and fixing him with my most forensic stare I said, ‘So if your girlfriend’s name was Julie, who was Bec?’
‘How’d you know about her?’
‘I took a call from her at the airport after the urologist’s conference in April, remember?’
‘For someone who claimed she wasn’t interested in me back then you seem to have taken a keen interest in my love life.’
‘Alex, I am female. They’ve identified a gene sequence on the X chromosome specifically dedicated to prying into the love life of others.’
He winced and sighed deeply. ‘Bec, Bec, Bec…I wish you hadn’t reminded me. Rebecca is one of my sister’s friends. We got drunk a few months ago and slept together - actually we slept together a couple of times in the end. I thought we were just having fun but she had “boyfriend” ideas and got all clingy on me. I had to be a bit of a bastard in the end but it was never going to go anywhere. Sophie is very unimpressed with me…’
‘Men and their dicks.’
‘That about sums it up.’
‘I promise not to get clingy on you.’
‘No, this is completely different.’
I continued my in
terrogation. After all he knew all about the sorry state of my own affairs, even if he hadn’t strictly asked to hear.
‘Do you mind me asking you about Julie?’
‘I was wondering how long it was going to take you to get around to that.’
‘You don’t have to tell me.’
‘No, I don’t mind.’
‘Was she Australian?’
‘No, English. I met her over there.’
‘And what was she like?’
‘She actually looked a bit like you - well similar hair and eyes and about the same height. I got a bit of a surprise…’
‘Ah, so that’s the reason. You haven’t completely gotten over her, have you?’
‘No, that’s not it at all. You look a bit like her but you’re quite different in other ways. For a start you’re a much nicer person.’
I didn’t know if people who slept with other men behind their husband’s back quite qualified to be called nice, but I let the comment stand.
‘And you were planning to get married?’
‘I hadn’t asked her but was working up to it.’
‘So she didn’t know.’
‘No…but we’d talked about the possibility at other times.’
‘I don’t get you guys. If you knew you wanted to marry her why didn’t you just ask?’
‘I don’t know…I was thinking about maybe asking her at Christmas. In the end she saved me the trouble.’
‘So what happened? Do you mind me asking?’
‘I thought it was a mutual breakup but I’ve since found out she had someone else waiting in the wings. So you may not be the only victim of adultery in this bedroom.’
‘And who got custody of the seeing eye dog?’
‘What?…Oh, you’re very sweet but I’m not that good looking. Besides some women find other things more important, like money and power.’
‘Including your ex?’
‘Yeah. She got involved with her boss, who I’m pretty sure was still married at the time. She’s a lawyer. He was a partner at her firm - a total prick as far as I can tell too, but loaded. I hear along the grapevine they are getting hitched.’
Happily Ever After? Page 17