The Other Woman Pt. 01

And then there was Camilla. Somehow, if all the previous events hadn't been improbable enough, he then stood toe to toe with his ex-girlfriend's flatmate. The same girl that he last saw two years earlier, stark naked, in various comprising positions! He'd somehow maintained his composure in front of both Camilla and the prime minister, but the entire time he'd had one phrase repeating itself in his head. "What the fuck is going on!?"

As he worked his way down through the winding path of the Parliament's bushland gardens, Jeremy thought back to the night two years earlier when Alison and Camilla had conspired to fuck him; together. He wasn't complaining; far from it. And if it hadn't been the catalyst for all the pain that followed, he might have replayed that night in his head over and over till the day that he died. Most men dream of lying in bed with two women, but he had done it.

As he crossed State Circle to the oddly tent-like visage of the Department of Foreign Affairs-nicknamed Garth's Gazebo after a former self-aggrandizing Foreign Minister-Jeremy closed his eyes and thought back to the moment that Camilla had interrupted his and Alison's naked embrace one Saturday night. Of course, the girls had staged the scene for his benefit; and theirs. But judging by Camilla's reaction after that, Jeremy suspected the Alison had quickly gone off script.

She had forced a lightly clad Camilla to squeeze herself between them to reach a hairdryer on the far side of her bedroom. As she did, all three of them touched, sending their mutual arousal into overdrive. A few well-timed instructions later, Camilla was on her knees devouring Jeremy while Alison watched. He winced at the sudden tightness in his heart as he pictured Alison's face smiling back at him at that perfect moment. How had it all gone wrong?

When Jeremy looked up, he realised he was halfway down Sydney Avenue and stopped at the intersection with National Circuit. Before him on his left was the odious facade of the Macquarie Hotel or Hostel, depending on your preferred nomenclature. One of the original mass accommodations from before his time, the Macquarie's poor reputation was well deserved. Not dangerous by any means or a den of iniquity-other than its resident politicians-just wrong for the gentile surrounds of the Inner-South. Like an otherwise pretty girl who got her nose pierced; the Macquarie was just ruined it.

On he trudged through the afternoon heat. Around the French-language school of Telopea Park before crossing the road of the same name. He could see his apartment easily from the middle of the park proper and wondered if he shouldn't first stop there and change out of his now stifling suit. He was weighing up his chances of getting changed and still making it to the bank before closing time as he looked right and left to cross the road bordering the eastern side of the park. As he was about to cross, a red Mazda Protégé slowed to a halt and pulled up in front of him.

"Hop in." Camilla said from the window. "I'll take you to my place and cook!"

________________________________________

"It seemed silly that you should have to find food tonight." Camilla said as she led Jeremy up the stairwell to her apartment.

After picking him up in her car a few minutes earlier, Camilla had driven Jeremy to her apartment block near Kingston Oval. One of Canberra's oldest suburbs and originally called "Eastlake", Kingston was established in 1922. Part of the suburb had been designed as accommodation for the workers who built Canberra.

That was a far cry from the rest of the suburb that had undergone a renaissance in recent times. Long considered the poor relation of nearby Manuka, Kingston had now surpassed it in services and desirability. Multiple modern apartment blocks had sprung up in the area to fill the accommodation needs of the ever expanding Public Service. Kingston had become the night spot for young cashed up public servants with no families and no responsibilities.

"I have enough for both of us," Camilla continued, "as long as you don't mind pasta."

"I love it." Jeremy replied. "Creamy sauces were off the menu in Timor."

"I can do that," Camilla said with a smile.

When they reached the third floor, Camilla led the way around to the left of the landing and opened the door into her apartment. "It's not much," she said, somewhat embarrassed. "But I'm just one person."

She could have easily found a bigger place and a flatmate to share the rent. But she wanted something of her own. After four years of sharing university accommodation with three other girls, she just wanted somewhere to be alone once in a while. Sometimes she felt lonely, and she knew that it wasn't financially smart, but it was what she wanted now. What she needed.

The main room to Camilla's apartment was simple, but well appointed. Neutral decor with few decorations. Styled by its owners to be easily turned around and re-rented with a minimal fuss. A space designed not to offend any prospective fly-in, fly-out tenants who were wealthy but had little time to spend home making. The sort of people who told themselves that they were only in Canberra to work and they didn't want to live there.

As Camilla stowed her jacket and bag, Jeremy stepped into the lounge room and cast an eye about. Cream painted walls covering irregular brick work in a neat and tidy space. Floor to ceiling glass windows and doors looked out on to the patio which itself gave views of the nearby oval and surrounding suburb. The furniture looked rented or part of the apartment. None of the mixing and matching of styles that a younger person on a limited budget often engaged in to fill their first grown up space and make it a home.

"You have a lovely place," Jeremy said. He knew he only half meant it, but after six months in a shipping container, anywhere with a couch and a coffee table now seemed like a palace to him.

"Do you think?" Camilla called from the kitchen. "None of the stuff is mine. I wasn't sure how long I would be here, so I just rented a furnished place." She handed him a glass of water. "It's a little more expensive, but I get allowances for living here. Some people go as cheap as they can to pocket the difference, but I need a little luxury to come home to. Do you think that is shallow of me?"

Jeremy noticed that, now that she was home, Camilla had kicked off her shoes and was walking around in black stockinged feet. "Not at all. I've just spent six months sleeping on the ground because I had to. I never want to do that again! I still can't believe that I was only there just this morning."

"That is so trippy!" Camilla said. "I get culture shock just going home to Coffs for the weekend. Your poor head must be spinning."

"Yeah, it's weird. Not as weird as bumping into you working from the prime minister though. What are the odds?"

"I know, I know!" Camilla laughed. "Especially since the last time I saw you, you were..." Camilla went red and bit her tongue.

"Yeah." Jeremy said. "How could I forget?"

________________________________________

As Camilla cooked, they chatted and drank some white wine that she had had chilling in her fridge for weeks. A gift from a visiting delegation that the PM couldn't take himself for ethical reasons. There was always some journalist trying to link a politician to a despotic government or dubious donor via some innocent gift, no matter how distantly removed.

So, to avoid temptation, there was a general understanding within the PM's office that such gifts were meant to disappear; no questions asked. As long as you didn't take more than your fair share, everyone was happy that they just went away. But to throw out a perfectly good bottle of wine was almost criminal.

Camilla considered this as she topped up both her and Jeremy's glasses. How many other 25-year-olds could drink the PM's wine while kicking back with a war hero in her free-ish apartment? Surely this dream run couldn't last forever. And yet, standing here now talking to Jeremy on a Friday night as if they did it all the time just suddenly seemed right.

As they relaxed, they'd both removed their jackets and Camilla stood in her stockinged feet, skirt and silky ivory blouse. Jeremy had lost his shoes and his tie was rolled up somewhere on the near his jacket.

She plated the pasta, and they both moved to sit down at her round, four-seater glass dining table in the centre of her apartment.

"Delicious," Jeremy remarked on his first mouthful. "I haven't had pasta in an eternity!" He devoured the creamy concoction as fast as he thought polite. But waiting for Camilla to match him tested his nerve. He could drink while he waited, but he knew he was already over the limit and previous experience reminded him that one too many might end in disaster.

"Thank you," Camilla replied. "I never get to cook for anyone but me. I'm just glad that I remembered to double the ingredients."

Jeremy was about to take another mouthful when he paused and laughed. Camilla didn't understand the joke, but smiled anyway. "What?" she said.

"Nothing, nothing," he replied.

"Tell me." Camilla pressed.

"No-no, I can't."

"What is it? Come on, tell me."

"I'm so sorry I can't."

"But why? What is the matter?"

"I've been living with soldiers for too long. I'm just used to saying the first thing that pops into my head. No matter how inappropriate it is!"

"What? Tell me!"

"I can't. It'll crush the mood."

"You have to now. You can't leave me wondering what it is."

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you." Jeremy sipped his wine once more while trying not to smile. "It's stupid, seriously, but ok. It was when you picked me up in your car and you said, 'I'll cook!'"

"So?" Camilla said, not understanding.

"'Come to my house and I'll cook' means 'let's have sex'!"

"It does not!" Camilla retorted. "'Come to bed with me', means 'let's have sex'!"

"Yes, 'Come to bed with me,' means 'let's have sex,' but," Jeremy said, "'I'll cook,' means 'let's have sex and I'll cater!'"

Camilla fell silent. She looked down at her food while she wondered what she should say to that. She didn't know if it was the effect of the wine or the shock of seeing Jeremy again that caused her to pause. But a moment later, she knew that there was only one thing she could say.

"Jeremy, let's have sex now that I've catered."