To Have and to Hold (10 page)

Wordlessly they paid the bill and left, and as soon as they were out on the deserted city street they stood and looked at each other and within seconds were kissing furiously, Joe’s hands everywhere, Josie biting at his lips, wanting him inside her now.

J
osie lay in Joe’s arms in the back of the cab, eyes closed, savoring every sensation as he traced his fingers along her thigh, gasping softly as they slid beneath her skirt, over the lace of her stocking, and finally, finally, on to bare flesh. (Thank God, she thought, I put stockings on this morning and not tights. Thank God I’m wearing new underwear. Thank God my legs were waxed only last week.)

Higher, she held her breath in anticipation, lust screaming through her body as she waited for him to hit the spot. Higher. Higher. And his fingers gently brushing the outside of her panties, so softly she might almost have imagined it, then harder, then disappearing back down her thigh, teasing down to her knee. Josie sighed as she turned her head to meet Joe’s tongue.

No going back now.

Up the stairs and into her flat, the door barely closed before they kiss again, laughing softly at the intensity, then serious as Joe grinds his painfully stiff cock against her.

Walking clumsily, still kissing, into the bedroom, falling onto the bed, tongues and fingers and mouths everywhere, feeling, tasting, sucking, lapping. Whispering, sighing, increased urgency, bodies sliding over bodies, over and over.

And finally relief as Joe lies back, hands on Josie’s naked hips, lips on hard nipples, her breasts as full and firm as he had imagined, sliding into her, a gasp from both at the forgotten and forbidden pleasure.

Joe watching Josie as she rides him, eyes closed, biting her lip and gasping as he thrusts deeper, quicker. Reaching fingers down to stroke her as he thrusts, enjoying her smile of surprise, her pleasure, her body stiffening, contracting as she comes, giving up to his own orgasm immediately after.

Lying in bed smiling at one another. Joe tracing her lips with his fingers, watching her taste herself as she takes his fingers into her mouth. Kissing gently, stroking hair, whispering.

“
T
hat was amazing.” Joe smiles, tracing her hair behind her ear.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“I do, but I rarely mean it. This was incredible.” He kisses her. He means it. “
You
are incredible.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Josie smiles like the cat that got the cream, feels like the cat that got the cream, had forgotten how satisfying it is to
be
the cat that gets the cream.

Joe stretches and rolls over to look at the clock. “Fuck,” he hisses.

“Your wife?”

He rolls back and kisses Josie again. “I wish I could stay.”

“It’s past midnight,” she says. “You should go.”

“This won’t be the end of it.” He leans over to kiss her again. “God, you’re incredible. Tomorrow?”

Josie laughs softly. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.”

“And? Tomorrow afternoon? What are you doing?”

Josie wants to say she’s busy. She wants to say she won’t be available, this was just a one-off and she’s not the sort of girl who gets involved with married men, but she doesn’t.

“Tomorrow afternoon?” She lies back as Joe starts to stroke an already stiffening nipple again. “I’ll be lying here waiting for you to fuck me.”

“Oh God,” Joe groans, climbing back onto the bed. “I can’t leave you alone.”

10

“
I
can’t stand it anymore.” Alice’s throat almost closes, choked up with the tears that so far she’s managed to contain. “I don’t know why I ever bloody got married, I never see him, and I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but I swear to God I can’t see the point in carrying on.”

Emily sits next to her on the sofa and puts her arm around Alice’s shoulders, squeezing gently, not knowing what to say, waiting for Alice to cry and wanting to let her know that she will be there for her.

Alice looks up at Emily. “Imagine if you never saw Harry. You wouldn’t put up with it, would you?”

Emily shrugs.

“You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t. I don’t know anyone who would. Except stupid old Alice.”

“You’re not stupid old Alice. You’re lovely Alice and it’s just a phase. You’ve been through it before, you’ll come through it, you always do.”

“Oh God, Emily. I just can’t stand it. I think he’s having an affair.”

Time stands still.

Minutes go by as the color drains out of both their faces.

“Do you really think he’s having an affair?” Emily speaks slowly, cautiously, unable to believe that Alice has finally, after all these years, said what she and everyone else have always suspected.

“Yes. No.” Alice sighs. “Oh God, I don’t know. I mean, on one hand, I don’t think he’d do that to me, he knows I’d just leave, but on the other . . .” She sinks her head into her hands then looks up at Emily again. “If someone were telling me about my life, I’d think he was having an affair. For the last three months he’s hardly ever been at home before ten
P.M.
He says he’s always in meetings and never answers his mobile when I call. He goes off on business trips without telling me where he’s staying, I just have to wait for him to call, and we haven’t had sex for three months.”

“Are you serious?” Emily cannot hide her shock. “Three months? What’s his excuse?”

“He says he’s just exhausted, and when he’s working this hard the last thing on his mind is sex.”

“Is that true?”

“Well, when we’ve gone through this before and he’s been working this hard he’s gone off sex, but now I’m wondering whether every time he says he’s been working hard he’s actually been having an affair. Oh God.” Alice stands up clutching her chest, a hot flush suddenly enveloping her, a sweat breaking out on her forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

         F
ive minutes later Alice returns from the bathroom, pale and subdued, the sweat washed from her face.

Emily is in the kitchen making tea. She brings it in and watches as Alice gratefully sips the hot, sweet liquid.

“Ali, have you talked to him about it?” she says gently.

“Of course. He just says I’m being ridiculous. I’m so lonely, Emily.” Alice finally lets go as the tears start to roll down her face. “I just don’t know what on earth I’m supposed to do.”

         A
lice had tried to talk to Joe about it just three days ago. Three months is a long time to go without sex, to go without any warmth or intimacy of any kind when you love your husband and want to be with him, and Alice had thought that perhaps she wasn’t making enough of an effort. Perhaps if she looked fantastically sexy and seduced him, she would be able to win him back from whatever had removed him from their marriage.

Alice has tried this before, when Joe has been distant in the past. Has bought the underwear, tried to ply him with wine, and even though it has never worked, she has renewed vigor this time.

And so she waits up for Joe in a lacy negligée. And waits. And waits. At six minutes past midnight, when she hears the front door open, Alice is so tired all she wants to do is sleep, but she has come this far, she will see it through.

She expects Joe to come straight to bed. After all, it is late, and he has been working, but when he hasn’t appeared twenty minutes later, she pads downstairs to see what he is doing.

No sign of him in the living room, or the kitchen. She hears the murmur of low voices coming from his study, and immediately her heart starts beating faster, the nausea starts to rise in her chest.

She wants to stand outside the door and listen, have the proof she finally needs, but she can’t. She doesn’t want to catch him having a seedy affair, doesn’t want to hear incontrovertible evidence, wants instead for Joe to reassure her, to tell her that everything’s fine.

She hears low laughter, and pushes open the door, loudly, so he knows she’s there. She’s heard enough to be suspicious, but couldn’t bear hearing enough to condemn him.

Joe turns around instantly, fear in his eyes.

“What are you doing up?” he says, trying to sound as normal as possible, still holding the phone.

“What are
you
doing?” Alice hisses, pointing at the phone. “Who are you talking to? Are you having an affair?”

“I’ll have to phone you tomorrow,” Joe says into the phone, his voice now loud, professional, businesslike. “Don’t do anything with the fairness opinion until then.”

“Will do,” Josie laughs huskily. “Naughty boy, nearly being caught. See you tomorrow.” And she blows a kiss down the phone as she puts it down.

“Yup,” Joe says into the receiver, now talking to the dial tone, stalling for time. “Yup, we’ll talk about the valuation tomorrow. I’m sorry, but I really have to go.” He turns around to Alice, who falters nervously, now starting to doubt herself. Did she really hear soft laughter as she stood outside the door? Did she really hear the soft murmur of conversation, the tone of voice that sounded like he was talking to a woman, a lover?

“What the
fuck
are you doing?” The fear has been replaced with anger. Joe has pulled it off, knows he has pulled it off, and is now furious and defensive, with the righteousness of the guilty who knows he is walking free. “How dare you,” he continues, “how dare you walk into my office when I am on the phone to a client in Japan, and accuse me, within earshot, of having an affair.”

Alice hates raised voices. Hates arguments. Her first inclination is always to back down and run, and sure enough, she starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were . . . you sounded like you were . . .”

“What?”
he spits. “I sounded like I was
what
? You mean you were standing outside listening to my conversation?” For a second the fear is back, but no, she couldn’t possibly have heard or she would have known, she wouldn’t be backing down so quickly.

J
osie is turning out to be somehow different from the others. They have been sleeping together for three months, three months during which Joe has found that unlike all of the other women with whom he has had affairs, he is not the one in control.

Frightening and unbelievably exhilarating, Josie has become like a class A drug for him. The more he sees her the more he wants to see her, and the more he wants to see her the more control she seems to have over him.

For a while he was worried he might have fallen in love with her. Worried because the very last thing he wants to do is hurt Alice, and worried because he knows he couldn’t handle a woman like Josie full time. Now he thinks it’s not love, merely an obsession that will, eventually, work its way out of his system.

Joe has had these obsessions before, but usually, as soon as the woman starts making demands, starts falling for Joe emotionally, he switches off and moves on to the next challenge.

But Josie is still a challenge. She finds him amusing. The lines that have worked so well on the others only arouse laughter, and scorn, in Josie.

He finds her toughness, her unwillingness to do whatever he wants, intoxicating, and has, like tonight, started to take more risks.

He left her only forty minutes ago, but he thought of her all the way home, and had to have one last phone call with her before going to bed. Alice, who would, if she possibly could, be in bed by eight-thirty every night, was not supposed to be up.

Oh God, he came close. He looks at Alice, standing there in a negligée he hasn’t seen before, and thanks God he got away with it again. This was close. Too close. However addictive he finds Josie, he does not want his marriage to end, and he knows that had Alice heard what he had been saying to Josie, heard him tell Josie that he wanted to take her to the country, to a hotel with a four-poster bed, to tie her up, legs spread wide as he does whatever he wants, his marriage would be over.

“Well?” he repeats, anger and just a hint of fear flashing in his eyes. “What did you hear? What did you think you heard?”

“I . . . nothing. It was just the tone of your voice, it didn’t sound like a business call.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joe stands up, pushing past Alice. “I’ve had a long day, I’m exhausted, and I come home to find my wife standing here making ridiculous accusations. Do you have any idea how hard I’m actually working right now? Do you have any idea how busy I am, how exhausted I am by the time I come home?”

“I’m sorry,” Alice says meekly.

“Well, it’s a bit late for sorry.” Joe is on a roll now. “The last thing I need is for my wife to make ridiculous accusations about affairs when I get home at”—he looks at his watch—“gone midnight.”

“But, Joe.” Alice tries to find the words to express herself, not wanting to give up this easily, wanting to have a conversation about her fears, wanting to be reassured. “We haven’t made love for three months. You go away all the time and don’t leave me a contact number, and you’re never at home. You have to admit it’s suspicious.”

“So you really think I’m having an affair?”

“No . . . I don’t know.” Alice sighs. “I suppose I don’t really think it, I don’t really think you’d do that to me, but when you don’t seem to want me anymore I don’t know what to think.”

“Oh, darling.” Joe’s won. He can placate her now. He walks up to her and puts his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Of course I’m not having an affair. I love you. You’re my little chicken, no one else.”

Alice smiles with relief, sinks into his arms. “I love you too.” She sighs, nuzzling his neck.

Joe smiles into her hair. “I love you more.”

“I love
you
more.”

“I know.” Alice’s nuzzling becomes more insistent, she moves around and kisses his mouth. Joe kisses her in return, but as her lips start to open, he pulls back and squeezes her tightly before turning away. “It’s very late,” he says, taking her hand and pulling her out of the study. “Bedtime.”

         A
lice slides over to Joe’s side of the bed and snuggles into his back. Joe keeps his breathing as still as possible. He loves her, but he doesn’t want to make love to her. Doesn’t want to make love to anyone right now other than Josie, and even that isn’t really making love but fucking.

“’Night,” he mumbles, as if already asleep. Alice strokes his back for a few moments in a halfhearted attempt to arouse him, but eventually she gives up and moves back to her side of the bed.

“
S
o if you didn’t think he was having an affair the other night,” Emily ventures once Alice has told her the story, “what makes you think he’s having an affair now?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but when he’s there, reassuring me, I know with absolute certainty that I’m being ridiculous. But when he’s gone, or phoning me yet again to tell me he’ll be home late, my mind starts working overtime and I convince myself he’s got someone else. And you know the worst thing of all? The worst thing of all is that I’m thirty-five years old and I want to start having children, and how the hell am I supposed to get pregnant when my husband doesn’t sleep with me?”

“You mean Joe’s finally agreed to children?”

Alice snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. My husband’s never at home anymore to even discuss it. But time’s running out, Em. I’m ready, God, I’ve been ready for years, and who even knows if I can get pregnant? It might take ages, and if we don’t start soon it will be too late.”

“And how can you get pregnant when your husband’s not sleeping with you?”

“Exactly. I tell you, I’ve even fantasized about going to a sperm clinic.”

“You haven’t!”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t. I want to have a child with my husband, not a test tube. I can’t believe I even entertained the fantasy.”

“I’ll tell you what’s really sad. My fantasy involves handcuffs, silk scarves, and three big burly men who each have a master’s degree in sex. Yours involves a test tube of sperm.”

Alice chokes on her tea. “Three? Three men? Are you serious?”

Emily blushes and shrugs. “Was that oversharing?”

“Just a touch. So go on, tell me more. Where do you meet these three men?”

“Uh-uh. I’m not giving you any more information until you tell me your fantasy.”

“Okay. My fantasy is a thatched cottage . . .”

“Oh, shut up!” Emily hits Alice, who dissolves into giggles. “Your sexual fantasy. Come on. I’ve told you mine, now you tell me yours.”

“Not until I’ve had further information about the three big burly men. Is one of them Harry?”

Emily shakes her head firmly. “Absolutely not. Fantasies should never involve the men you love, not when they’re this decadent.”

“Oooh, this is getting better and better. Go on then, tell me more.”

         H
alf an hour of giggling later, Emily leans over and strokes Humphrey’s head. Humphrey closes his eyes in bliss and immediately rolls over, offering Emily his rather fat stomach, which she rubs while laughing. “You’re such a big baby, Humphrey. You know what, Ali, if you’re not going to have a baby just yet, you need someone else.”

“What?” Alice looks up in shock. “I don’t want anyone else. What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about someone like a Humphrey.”

“A what?”

“A dog. If you’re that lonely, why don’t you get a dog?”

“Because Joe hates animals. I’d love a dog.”

“Well, that’s tough on Joe. Tell him that either he has to spend more time at home, or you’re getting a dog to keep you company.”