High Life: Alice Makes a Change Pt. 02

[Author's note: Alice is married to James, a professional football player who has found himself at a loose end after retiring from the sport. After attending a charity auction in which she was outbid for her own husband, Alice has to deal with the fact that another woman has won his services]

---

AT HER SERVICE

I watched James washing the car. We'd just come back from football practice and the boys were running around still in their sports gear, making noise. I ran water into a tall glass and popped some ice cubes in to take out to him.

"Hey, thought you might need a drink."

James stopped, dropping the sponge onto the car roof, wiping his hands on his t-shirt before coming over to me.

"Thanks, yeah."

I watched him take a sip, then found those grey eyes on me.

"Alice, what?"

I shrugged. "Nothing."

"Ah, no. Something. What?"

"You're getting your t-shirt wet."

James took a gulp of water and handed the glass back to me.

"Really? Any suggestions?"

"I can't think of any. Wait, maybe one."

James smiled, replying, "Let me guess, this one?"

He gathered up the fabric of his t-shirt and began to haul it up over his head, baring his sharply-contoured torso. Although he'd now officially retired from the football career, James hadn't slacked off on the training regime that had maintained his rigorously-defined physique.

"Something like," I grinned back.

He took the glass from me again, coming close, dwarfing me with his bulk. I went up on my tiptoes, craning my neck, and was rewarded with a kiss.

"What will the neighbours think?" he murmured, leaning back, watching me as he finished the water.

"I know what the neighbours think."

James finished the glass and handed it back to me. He walked back around the car, picking up the sponge again. His eyes were locked on mine, a little sexy smile on his lips, as he stroked the dripping sponge down his chest and over his abdomen, letting them gleam in the sun. Standing barefoot, I pressed my knees together, and his smile broadened.

"Thanks for the drink," he said, turning away now to continue his chore, ignoring me.

I found myself staring at him, at the way his muscles moved. What would the neighbours think? Katy, two doors down, had been surprisingly frank after a few too many wines, but had delivered her assessment of my husband in front of a number of our friends with a grin and a lascivious twinkle in her eye that had everyone laughing. What the neighbours thought was one of the worst-kept secrets in the street.

I turned away as other thoughts began to bubble up to the surface. It was Saturday morning: there were clothes to be washed, lunch to be made. I couldn't just spend all day ogling my husband; that wouldn't get anything done. Still, I could watch him from the window. Maybe Katy was doing the same. I smiled to myself: no harm in them looking, no harm in them seeing what I had to sleep next to every night.

Later, after lunch, after we'd cleaned up and gotten the boys to finally change out of their sports gear so I could put it in the wash, I had a little time alone with him.

"Did you get the message from Jodie?" I asked.

"No, not yet."

"It's in your inbox, I forwarded it on."

"What message?"

James was busy hauling a flatpack into the boys' bedroom, not really listening.

"It's to arrange the thing, you know."

He peeled the side of the cardboard open, extracting the components for a set of drawers, kneeling down on the carpet.

"The thing?"

"Yeah, the...."

I broke off, seeing James looking up at me, grinning.

"You can't even say it, can you?" he replied.

"The thing," I repeated, stubbornly.

"Let's call it what it is, Alice. You sold your husband into slavery."

"No I didn't," I fired back at him.

"You sold my services to host the auction, it's all down to you."

"You volunteered to put yourself up for the bidding."

James laughed, and I could see how much he was enjoying the sparring, my discomfort. It's what he used to do in the game, waiting for the ball to be played, niggling the opposition, getting under their skin. I knew exactly what he was doing.

"If you hadn't offered me to Jodie as the host, though, I wouldn't have been in the predicament at the end of the night. I wouldn't have had to see the pleading look on her face to go through with it."

"You wouldn't have gotten snapped up by some cougar with more money than sense."

James put down the screwdriver, fixing me with a direct look.

"Oh, now that's going too far," he retorted.

I weathered his stare, my hands on my hips like a nagging wife. A sly grin crept across his face, and I braced myself.

"Five and a half grand for my services," he drawled, "Are you seriously saying she overpayed? For me? For this fine specimen?"

I held his gaze for a moment longer, but it was all I could stand.

"Oh, fuck off," I growled, finding myself grinning back at him, "Yeah. I reckon she did."

"You offered three, I seem to remember."

"Three thousand, one hundred."

"Oh yeah, the extra hundred. I forgot about that. So, you think I'm only worth three grand?"

"James, you're struggling to put together a set of drawers as we speak. Even three hundred's looking like robbery at this point."

I folded my arms, grinning triumphantly down at my husband. He rocked back on his haunches, his big hands on his knees.

"Ah, but you'd have paid three for me on the stairs afterwards, Alice. Tell me you wouldn't."

I blinked, realising what he was doing: circling round to come from a different direction, changing the flow of play to his advantage. The memory came back to me, of kneeling on our stairs, stripped to my lingerie, with my rear in the air waiting for him.

"You were quite happy to pay for my services then," he rumbled.

James shrugged, his point made, taking the win as I struggled to come up with a riposte.

"When?" he asked.

I blinked, focusing again on him after allowing my thoughts to wander.

"When what?"

"Jodie, the message."

"Oh. The message. Her name is Delilah, she'd like you to do the fifteenth."

"Delilah on the fifteenth, okay. Do we have anything on?"

"No, I checked."

"What does she want me for?"

"She's having a dinner party."

"Ah, let me guess. Waitering."

"Yep."

James wiped his hands on his jeans, looking down at himself.

"Any specific dress code, Alice?"

"Uh, I guess smart?"

"Not topless waitering then?"

He watched me as he said it, gauging my response. There was a glint in his eye, telling me he was fishing again.

"Not just turning up in a thong?" he persisted, "A thong and a nice smile?"

"Really," I grated, "You can fuck right off."

His face began to split into a wide grin, but I turned on my heel, huffing, making a show of storming out of the room. I heard him chuckling to himself behind me as I left.

"You'll keep for later," I called over my shoulder as I disappeared.

I went downstairs, but ground to a halt on the bottom step, looking down at the tiny lighter patch on the carpet. I'd had a go at it a couple of times, trying to remove the stain. I'd need to buy something specific from the store to shift it. Like my husband himself, the residue of his lovemaking was nothing if not persistent.

I wandered into the kitchen, tidying as I went, but my thoughts kept lingering on the memory of that moment in the auction, where I'd lost the bidding war for my own husband to an immaculate woman in a flowing red ballgown, blonde hair, in her fifties but still slim and elegant with delicate, regal features. Just for a moment, I pictured her at the head of a dinner table, holding court. I Imagined my husband serving the dinner, but for some reason he was in just a thong, showing his toned body off to her. I imagined her eyes drifting down his bare form.

It twisted something in my guts, a spike of jealousy even though it was my own imagination, to have my husband on display for her. I closed my eyes, feeling a curious sensation in my core, running my hand down the flat of my tummy, down to....

"Alice."

My eyes flared open and I spun around to face the door. James was standing there, holding a screwdriver.

"You want to come see?" he said, "I think I'm done."

I nodded. "Sure, okay. Be right up."

James smiled at me and left. I stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen, caught up still in the delicious, awful feeling. I needed to go shopping. James needed a new shirt, maybe a few other things to make a good impression. I wanted him to look his best on the fifteenth.

---

Delilah's house was in the nice part of Highbridge. Sorry, I suppose I need to be more precise. Highbridge is nice, all of it. Buying into where James and I live, our little street, is out of the realms of possibility for most of the population, so I guess that nice is a relative term. We've done pretty well over the years with James' football career and his sponsorships. That said, Delilah's house was in the part of the suburb that even we couldn't afford.

I drove up to the gate, stopping at the kerb, looking across at my husband in his black tuxedo. I fiddled with his collar again, adjusting his bow tie, primping him. I ran a hand through his hair.

"You look so good," I murmured to him.

"Thanks."

He gave me a look, then turned his attention to the house, hesitating. It was an imposing edifice, built over a century ago from large sandstone blocks, situated on a flat corner plot on top of the hill looking down on the rest of Highbridge. James didn't move.

"Time to go, babe," I prompted, gently.

"Yeah."

James still didn't move, his hand on the door handle.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing. Well, y'know. Pre-game."

"You'll do great. You always do."

He turned back to me and I gave him a kiss, then pulled back to wipe my thumb over his lips.

"Can't have them seeing you with lipstick. Highly unprofessional."

This seemed to spur him into action. He opened the door and got out.

"See you at ten," he said.

"Yeah. See you at ten."

He closed the door, and I watched him walk up the path. In his tux, all brushed up, he looked good. I found my eyes lingering on the way he moved, that same certain gracefulness that he'd displayed with the ball in his hands on any number of Sundays. James knocked on the door and waited, turning back to give me a wave. I waved back at him, then did a thumbs-up, to which he laughed. The door opened and he stepped inside.

I started the engine and pulled away, letting my thoughts wander. James was clearly uncomfortable, but he'd gone through with it, honouring his commitment. In reality, it wasn't any different to a hundred previous commitments through his sporting life, sitting at tables with the great and the good, trotting out details of the big wins and the struggles of a career playing at the top level. I'd been to enough of those myself, sitting in a little cocktail dress as my husband performed to the audience. I would often find myself just watching the way his mouth moved, or the way he held his hands. James in full flow never ceased to occupy my attention, and I always felt that little warm glow of pride as I watched people watching him.

I drove to my parents' house. They were taking the boys for a sleepover since it was the weekend and I'd be late picking James back up from his engagement. I had dinner with everyone, checking my phone in case there were messages, but getting nothing all night. But then, I thought, no news must be good news. He was probably having the time of his life, basking in the attention. I could imagine the good humour as he filled wine glasses and cleared plates. Having a previous Player of the Year top up your drink would be priceless.

I looked in on the boys, fast asleep in the guest bedroom, then said goodbye to my parents, heading back to Delilah's house. There had still been no word from James, but I was there, as arranged, at ten o'clock on the dot. I turned the engine off and waited.

The street was quiet, and so was the house, with a single light shining through the stained glass of the front door. I gave it quarter of an hour, scrolling through my phone, then I decided to message him.

A: Out the front

The minutes drifted by, then I got a ping back.

J: Sorry, talking

I smiled ruefully to myself.

A: Let me guess, you talking

A: Done your duties for the night?

There was another pause.

J: Yeah. Do u want to come in? Good bunch

I looked down at myself, in a blouse and jeans.

A: Not dressed for it

J: Doesn't matter. Casual anyway

I hesitated, sensing his eagerness for me to join them. I knew what this was: he was having a great time and he didn't want to go home yet. If I went into the house, we'd probably be there for hours.

J: Come meet Delilah

I stared at the words, feeling that same strange constriction in my guts. Come and meet the woman who had bought my husband at auction.

J: Jodie is here too

Groaning to myself, I stepped out of the car and made my way to the front door. I hesitated for a moment, and then rang the bell. I really didn't feel like trying to be sociable with the upper echelon in my dressed-down clothing, but I needed to extract James somehow. The door opened.

"Alice, lovely to see you again," Jodie said.

"Hi," I replied, "I understand my husband is talking at your table."

Jodie chuckled to herself, "Oh, yes. Still talking."

"Sorry, he gets like that."

"Quite alright, he's very good value."

Jodie stepped to the side, allowing me to enter. I didn't comment on whether Jodie was referring to the auction price, or just James in general. She led me down a high-ceilinged hallway lit with ornate antique lamps into a reception area. Through a large archway, I could hear voices, including my husband's.

"This way, Alice."

I found myself standing in front of half a dozen people sitting at an expansive dining table, the remnants of the dessert course scattered across the dark, polished wood. James was sitting in the middle, bowtie unhitched and top button undone, cradling a half-full glass of red wine in one hand. Opposite him across the table was a younger man, perhaps in his late twenties or early thirties, who turned around as I entered the room. He was handsome, with a self-assured smile.

"This is Davis," Jodie said.

The man stood to shake Alice's hand. "Davey," he replied, "Only Jodie calls me Davis."

"Alice."

"Your husband, you've met," Jodie continued, then indicated an older couple at one end of the table, "Aston and his wife Sophia."

Aston nodded, as did his wife, but they didn't get up.

"Christophe."

The man was in his forties, but heavy, as if an athletic build had softened and run to fat. He raised a hand in greeting.

"And this is our host."

The woman sitting at the head of the table rose smoothly from her chair, approaching me and taking my hand. She was half a head taller than me, elegant in an understated way, her blonde hair gathered up into a loose braid, green eyes flashing in a subtle yet beautiful face. She was dressed in a flowing black cocktail dress, accessorised with a pearl necklace and matching earrings.

"Delilah," she murmured, "And I must say, it's been a pleasure having your husband for the evening."

There was something in her arrangement of the words, the subtle emphasis on 'having' that made my stomach flip, and I found myself just staring back into her perfect eyes.

"Would you like to join us, Alice?" she continued, "I'm sure we can impose on James to do his duties one more time and get you a glass of something."

My eyes flicked to my husband, smiling back at me. He picked up a fresh glass.

"Uh, yeah. Okay," I found myself saying, "But I feel a little under-dressed."

"Not those," Jodie interjected, wagging a finger at my husband, "Allow me. I think we're on to after-dinner drinks now."

Delilah slid an arm around my shoulders, leading me to a spare chair.

"Have a seat. You look fine."

I sat, feeling suddenly out of place and drab, surrounded by the guests in their finery and my husband in his tuxedo.

"I'm sure we can find you something if you want to change," Delilah continued as Jodie left the room, "But it's really not necessary. We're all very relaxed."

I shot a look across at James, but he just raised the corner of his mouth. He was playing it by ear, I could tell. Delilah placed her hand on mine, turning her attention to me.

"It's so nice to meet you, Alice. James has been telling us about you."

"Has he?" I replied, glancing back at my husband.

"Oh, all good things," Delilah chuckled, "Though I feel I must apologise."

"Why?"

"The auction. I had no idea who you were. I was mortified when Jodie informed me later that I was bidding for James against his own wife."

She patted my hand, then withdrew to pick up her wine glass.

"Thank you for being such a good sport about it. Not every wife would have let their husband put himself out there like that."

I wanted to tell her that I didn't have much choice in the matter, that it had all been decided without me. There was also something in Delilah's tone that reminded me how I'd lost the bidding, and how she'd won my husband. Behind Delilah's sincere expression there was a hint of satisfaction.

Just then, Jodie appeared with a tray of glasses. She set the tray down in the middle of the table, carefully handing a glass to each person. I received mine, raising it to my nose to inspect the drink in the bottom.

"Cognac," Jodie stated, watching my expression, "Excellent aid to digestion."

She picked up her glass and raised it, toasting the table.

"To great things," she said, "May all our endeavours bear fruit."

Jodie dispatched her drink in a single motion, and the others followed suit, even my husband. I found myself examining my glass dubiously.

"Not to your taste?" Jodie asked me.

"I'm driving."

"I know, that's why I only gave you a dribble. Bottoms up."

James was watching me now, as was Jodie and everyone else at the table. Reluctantly, I brought the glass to my lips and drank the fiery liquid. As Jodie had pointed out, there wasn't any more than a sip. I swallowed, then replaced the glass on the tray. Jodie smiled warmly at me.

"See, all good," she said, "You looked like I was about to poison you."

"I, uh, no, I just... like I said, I've got the car outside."

I realised I was babbling, so I closed my mouth. There was something about Jodie, about Delilah, that made me feel out of my depth.

"Shall we retire to the lounge?" Delilah announced, and rose from her chair.

It seemed to be a signal, and I found myself following. Delilah linked arms with me, directing my steps.

"I'm so glad that you decided to join the party," she murmured in my ear, "So glad you wanted to stay."

"I guess."

"You didn't have anything else to do tonight, did you? No plans that we're interfering with?"

As she talked, I allowed myself to be led back into the hallway, then into the back of the house, to a well-appointed lounge with several plump couches and low lighting.

"No," I replied, "We had nothing else on."

"Good. Let's sit."

Delilah drew me down onto a couch, sitting next to me. James took up a seat on the opposite couch, guided into position by Jodie, who sat next to him. Davis sat next to her, leaving Christophe, Aston and Sophia to occupy armchairs positioned around the room.

"You know," Delilah murmured, her voice soft and close, "I think these couches are my favourite piece of furniture in the entire house. They're so soft, so cozy."

She made a show of wiggling her bottom into the plumped upholstery, crossing her long legs.

"It's nice just to sink into them. After a hard day, you can just lie back and let yourself go."

I murmured in agreement. The couch was very comfortable.