Audrey Ch. 01

Bryan laughed out loud. Sarah glanced at the man, then looked away quickly, her cheeks turning red. Becky sipped her wine, her heartrate increasing, watching the two of them like a hawk.

'Believe me, Sarah,' said Bryan. 'I have never disliked you.'

'Then why were you so distant?'

Sarah was looking directly at Bryan. Bryan returned the look, then turned to Becky and raised his eyebrows. Becky smiled, wine glass in hand.

'I think you know where I stand,' she said.

Sarah looked over at her. Husband and wife were looking at each other intently, as though in telepathic communication. Sarah looked from one face to the other, her mind working to interpret the situation. Then she looked at her empty wine glass and pushed it across the table towards Becky.

'On second thoughts,' said Sarah, 'may I have that glass of wine after all?'

The two women locked gazes. Becky felt herself getting wet as she contemplated the other woman's beautiful dark eyes and elegant eyebrows. She reached for the bottle and poured Sarah half a glass. Then, wine glasses in hand, the two women turned to face the man.

'So, Bryan...' said Becky. 'Why were you being distant with Sarah?'

Bryan leaned back and crossed his legs, partly to hide the hard-on that had appeared out of nowhere. He swirled his wine like a critic preparing to talk about a film.

'Well...' he said. 'It has to do with someone we know called Audrey.'

'Who's Audrey?' said Sarah.

'She's a woman with whom Becky and I had ... how shall I put this? ... an intimate friendship.'

Bryan was looking at Sarah as he said this. She visibly swallowed and said:

'And when you say "intimate"...'

She left the word hanging. Bryan knew without looking that Becky was trying not to slide around on her chair, but something about Sarah's gaze warned him to tread carefully. 'Don't assume she's as turned on as you are,' said an inner voice. 'This might be a test.' He looked at his wife.

'Are you sure about this?' he said. 'This is very personal, for both of us. But especially for you.'

'Bryan, I trust her.'

Becky turned to Sarah.

'We can trust you, right?' she said. 'Whatever happens in this room stays between the three of us?'

'Of course!' said Sarah and she turned to Bryan. 'Whatever you tell me, I will never tell anyone. I swear it.'

'I'm not worried about that,' said Bryan. 'I'm worried about trusting you not to judge us.'

There was a silence.

Sarah sat back and looked into her wine.

'I understand,' she said.

'Bryan,' said Becky. 'I'm sure--'

'No, he's right,' said Sarah. 'He's right. You shouldn't force trust, certainly not that kind of trust. It's important to acknowledge that.'

She spoke with the detachment of a psychologist, but the way she stared at the wine glass in her hand spoke of something way more turbulent going on inside her. Becky opened her mouth to ask if she were okay and Bryan silenced her with a swift glance. 'Leave her be!' his eyes seemed to say. 'Let her figure this out for herself.'

After a long silence, Sarah seemed to come to a decision. She put her wine glass on the table and turned to Bryan.

'Could you switch on the light, please?' she said. 'I want to show you something. Both of you.'

Bryan got up and went to the light switch. Instantly, the intimate dinner atmosphere was wiped away in favour of a somewhat prosaic kitchen-dining room scene. Tara's toy corner and the pots on the cooker conspired to drain all the sensuality from the room. The flickering candles now looked pathetic in competition with the halogen light bulbs.

Sarah began unravelling her elegant hairstyle. She removed the tortoiseshell hairgrip and slid out a couple of hairpins, placing them neatly onto the table next to her wine glass. When she was satisfied that they were all removed, she shook her head and sent her long black hair tumbling down.

Becky and Bryan were transfixed. They had seen this action a hundred times in movies, yet that didn't stop it from being devastatingly effective. Sarah with her hair down was not merely attractive -- she was beautiful. If it hadn't been for the switching on of the lights, both husband and wife would have assumed she was seducing them.

Sarah tilted her head and was combing her hair with the fingers of both hands, separating it to expose the scalp underneath. Bryan stood to one side and Sarah gestured for him to come forward.

'Just here,' she said. 'You can touch my hair if you like, but gently.'

Bryan exchanged a glance with Becky, then carefully drew a lock of hair away from the area she was trying to expose. Becky saw his face harden.

'Jesus Christ!' he exploded.

Becky was around the table in a flash. Bryan moved aside while still holding Sarah's hair and Becky peered in. Under the hair on Sarah's delicate pink scalp was a livid scar that ran along one side of her cranium. You could even make out the indents where the stitches had been.

'A gift from my husband,' said Sarah. 'Well, ex-husband now.'

Bryan stepped away, staring at the wall as though wanting to put his fist through it. Becky dragged Bryan's chair next to Sarah and sat down. Her throat was tight and she had tears in her eyes.

'Sarah...' she said. 'I am so sorry...'

'Becky, it's not your fault.'

'No, but I ... I...'

Becky burst into tears. She felt sick and ashamed, the Audrey fantasy now feeling cheap and exploitative. She bawled her eyes out and Sarah reached over and took the crying woman into her arms. Bryan leaned against the wall and watched them. Despite being physically smaller, Sarah had the air of an older sister. She comforted Becky, her arms over her back, and at the same time her gaze found Bryan. The two looked into each other's eyes for what felt like a very long time.

Bryan was the first to look away. He redirected his gaze to his daughter's toy centre, feeling ashamed and despondent. His desire to have sex with 'Audrey' was even stronger than ever and he had no idea what to do with it.

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For the remainder of that evening, Sarah told Becky and Bryan the story of her short and ugly marriage. After she left, it was a subdued couple who cleaned up the kitchen. While Bryan loaded the dishwasher, Becky gathered the candles into a box and put the lot out of sight into the back of a cupboard. They had one last stiff whiskey and then took themselves upstairs. Lying naked in bed, they took comfort in each other's bodies, but neither felt like making love.

'I really fucked up,' said Becky.

'We fucked up.'

'No, Bryan, you warned me. But I was so intent on making this Audrey thing happen, I forgot that Sarah was actually a person. God, what was I thinking?'

Bryan shifted Becky around so that he could look her in the face.

'Yes, I wanted to ask you,' he said. 'What is behind that? Do you really want me to have sex with another woman?'

'I don't know.'

'Oh, come on! There's something lurking in that head of yours.'

Becky sighed and moved so that she had her head on Bryan's chest. It felt warm there, and it also meant she didn't have to look him in the eye. Bryan had his hand on her shoulder and he was stroking her skin with his thumb. Becky stared at the bedroom curtain and said:

'Listen, these are just the thoughts that come up, all right? Please don't judge me.'

'Of course not.'

'Okay.'

Becky let out a deep breath and closed her eyes.

'I'm struggling with myself, Bryan. I don't know who I am as a woman and I haven't known for ages. I used to think I was a feminist, but now I know that's not who I am. Don't get me wrong, I still don't want to be stopped from doing what I want just because I'm a woman. But you were right -- wanting equality and not wanting to be a victim of inequality are not the same things. But knowing what I don't want is not the same as knowing what I do want. Does that make sense?'

'Yes,' said Bryan. 'Yes, it does.'

'That's a relief.'

'Go on. I'm listening.'

'Well ... then the next question is: how do I find what I want? And I look around the world and what other people have, and I ask myself, "Is that what I want? Is that what I want?" And the answer keeps coming back, "No". But then I read this article on the Internet which said that, instead of looking outside for what we want, we should be looking inside. That our deepest desires are already inside us, but if we have too much stuff in our heads about what we should want, it blocks those desires from our conscious awareness. Are you with me?'

'Yes...'

'I can hear hesitation in your voice.'

Bryan chuckled and gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

'Listen, what I'm hearing is that you don't want to be the type of woman who wants approval from men, nor do you want to be a woman who wants approval from other women. That you want to be...' Bryan searched for the phrase '...your "authentic self". The real you under all the social conditioning and ego-shit and whatever else, right?'

'Yeah, something like that.'

'Okay, I'm with you so far. What I find difficult to swallow is the idea that after all this inner searching, your deepest, darkest desire turns out to be ... wanting your husband to have sex with another woman.'

Becky turned herself around, lying along and on top of Bryan's body. She propped herself up on his chest and looked him in the face.

'Bryan, when you told me you were going to "fuck Audrey next week", I had multiple orgasms. That didn't come from nowhere! Now, I don't know why it turned me on so much, nor do I have any idea what's buried down there, but I do believe that--'

There was a blip-blip from her phone on the bedside table. Their first thought was Becky's mother who was looking after Tara. Becky rolled off her husband and reached for the phone. She sat up and tapped the message. A moment later, she yelped.

'Bryan, look!'

Becky was holding the phone at his nose. Bryan took it off her and sat up to read the message. It was from Sarah, written as a single block of text.

'Hi Becky. Just want to let you know that I had a wonderful evening. I REALLY like your husband! (Hope you don't mind!) Please, please, please let's do this again soon. I never got to hear about Audrey and I'm DYING to know! Sarah x'

Bryan lowered the phone and looked into the gleaming eyes of his wife.

'Oh, my god,' he said. 'I think she's up for it.'

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END OF CHAPTER 1