Anthony's message

I took your advice. By now you should have a message from the office, so I hope this isn't a surprise.

I don't know how long I'll be away, a few days at most.

I had a long chat with Laura. Sending her was a good idea, though she may not think so.

She did her best but it made me feel confused. I haven't got the hang of this recreational thing. She says I need more practice.

I hope your session went well.

Anthony

Julie read the note twice looking for some deeper meaning, there was plenty of room for guesswork but nothing certain. Why might Laura have doubts? Where was Laura? She tried her number again to no avail. Did they fall out? Did that mean that working with Laura was a problem?

Julie skimmed the TV channels and saw nothing she liked, falling back eventually on playing ‘Kind of Blue’ with the blinds and her eyes closed. Miles Davis at least could be relied on. Anthony would not be back tonight, that was for sure, her phone was charged, she’d left more than enough messages for Laura and it was still only eight O'clock.

She showered, dressed to boost her confidence and called a cab.

“The golf club.”

She'd joined a while back, trying to tempt Anthony into getting more exercise. It hadn't worked but she'd played a few rounds and kept the membership. They did food, the music was good, and the path from the bar to the ladies room was long enough that anyone who wanted would get a good look at her walk and on the way back she could see who was looking.

When was the last time she’d played this game? It had to be years, well if Anthony needed time to think then so did she, only this wasn’t thinking. What she was doing was the opposite of thinking, she’d done too much thinking.

The place was much as she remembered it. When she arrived a five piece combo was playing, obviously a new ploy to keep customers buying meals and drinks. The drummer was keeping some sort of beat trickling along and the guy with sax was cool, the kid with the guitar seemed to be taking a rest along with the clarinet. The bass player was almost out of sight behind his instrument.

She found a side table with one other seat. Anyone looking might think she was waiting for someone. Fine, that would do for now. She sat for five minutes, heard the sax give way to the clarinet and gave the barman a little wave. A waiter turned up a minute later. She ordered a cocktail and a chicken salad, something innocuous that she could abandon without a thought. When it arrived she picked at it, doing her best to look sightly distracted, a little irritated. When she’d drunk half the glass she dug out her phone and to anyone watching in the wings she appeared to send a text. Two minutes later she sent another, putting the phone down a little too firmly at a quiet point in the music.

When the number ended she got up and did her walk. She’d made sure to wear heels that were a little too high, so that every wiggle was emphasised. She could scan the room by looking at the reflections in the glass screens on the way, but her expression was a well practiced, bored stare. She could see three possibles.

On the way back she got a closer look. She’d waited until the group was playing again, so that she could walk in step with the rhythm, looking as if she’d love to dance. She picked on the smallest guy, Casanova was tall wasn't he, the last thing she needed was some guy who was full of himself. She wanted someone who'd try hard. He looked promising, his gaze never leaving her as she made her way to her table. He was rewarded with a hint of a smile. When she was back in her seat she pushed away the food, ordered another drink and spent another irritated minute with her phone.

The guy turned up two minutes later bearing a full glass of what she was already drinking.

“Well done,” she said. “Bonus points for asking the barman, or can you recognise these in the dark?”

“The barman," he said. “Is your... friend late?”

“Late as in dead?” she said, “or will be if he ever answers.”

“Do you accept substitutes?”

She eased back into her chair, regarding him with a cool gaze that slowly warmed into a friendly smile.

"Do you have a car?" she asked.

"I do, why do you ask?"

"I might have a thousand reasons I suppose," she said, inclining her head forwards and combining and alluring smile with a rapt gaze from under her beautifully extended eyelashes. "Maybe I'm a petrol head, or whatever they call them these days, or perhaps a sociologist, or a status seeker, or maybe you can think of something else."

He chuckled.

"You're supposed to tell me what you're thinking, it's not a test to see how shy you are."

"It has a big back seat."

"How big?"

"Seeing is believing."

"I thought you'd never ask," she said, "but first we need to talk."

"We do?"

"You bought me a drink and I've hardly finished this one."

He grinned. "Are you some kind of smart arse?"

"You'd have to ask my arse."

"Maybe I will."

"Maybe you will." She downed the rest of her drink and picked up his glass.

"Hey that's mine," he said.

"I know, and a fine single malt it is. You can have mine," she said, pushing the cocktail he'd brought towards him. "Drink up and then show me this car of yours."

He started to get up. "Drink first."

"You think I spiked it?"

"Did you?"

He laughed again. "You're smarter than you look." He picked up the drink and downed it in one. "No one has ever done that to me."

"A record breaking night already."

"Is your friend going to turn up and spoil things?"

"No," she held up her phone as the put it in her bag. "I told him if he's this late not to bother." She wrapped her arm around one of his and dragged him towards the door.

"We could go to my place," he said.

"Or mine. Do you have a pool?"

"It's a penthouse."

"Mine has a very private pool. It's not far"

"Sure."

"How much did you drink?"

"Three sips of my whisky and your cocktail."

"We're good to go then, mine was a soft one."

He chuckled. "You're something else."

"Yes," she said, "I am, but are you? Did you come on your own? I'm not about to find some jealous woman screaming at me?"

"No way."

"And jealous buddies, someone pissed at losing their lift home, at losing a bet or anything?"

"Maybe one."

"Why don't you bring him along?"

"Seriously?"

"Condoms all round unless you've got up to date medical evidence with you, but apart from that, the more the merrier."

"Oh yeah," he said. "Give me two secs."

A taller, darker, well manicured guy with great teeth stepped out of the door looking for them

"This is Jay, we work together."

"Matt and I do a load of things together."

"And you fancy doing me together. I'm Angie."

"Angie has a pool at her place."

"Bring it on."

Julie made Matt and Jay take the front seats and sat in the back. She took them through a roundabout route, to marginally reduce the chance of them finding her place again.

When they arrived she led them through the side door switched on the pool lights and threw off her dress. In a few seconds, she was in the water swimming easily to the far end. She stood up, catching her breath.

"I forgot to ask if you could swim. It's not deep, you can stand all over, so come on in and cool down."

She stood, watching, curious, waiting to see what she'd beguiled into her net.

Even in the twilight, she could see that Jay was big enough. Matt seemed a little more shy, took longer to strip but when he did she smiled. He dived the length of the pool, holding his breath for the whole way coming up between her lags. She swung her hips forward to make sure his tongue could reach into her before his breath ran out.

When he came up for air she kissed him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him towards her.

She teased them and played with them, wrapped their cocks in condoms, sucked them, came on their cocks and drained them both over the next few hours. It was almost two in the morning by the time she'd had both of them in every hole. She let them do whatever came into their heads, concentrating only on the condoms. She wore them out, keeping going until no one was doing anything.

She swam a couple of lengths to freshen herself and came up alongside them.

"Are you staying the night or going home?"

Matt was lying flat out on a sun lounger. “I can’t drive.”

"What about you Jay?"

"If he stays then I'll stay."

"No problem," she said. "There's room." She stopped for a second. "One thing you need to know, we have a security system, so don't get any crazy thoughts. Everything you do is beamed off site. You're safe, I don't know who you are so I can't set you up or blackmail you or anything, but don't think about stealing anything or hurting me because you'll be identified." she laughed, "okay? End of health and safety warning."

"This off site thing? Is that your husband?"

She laughed again. "No the office of my business."

"What are you in?" said Jay.

"That's my little secret. Right now I'm a whore you picked up that's doing freebees for the night."

Julie took the pair of them into the spare bedroom downstairs, it had a king size bed and en-suite, so there was no reason to explore the rest of the house.

"Have a shower while I check the alarm settings."

She set the zonal alarms so that if anyone ventured as far as the stairs they'd get a surprise. She sent a text message, copying the message and the number from her phone, grinning as she sent it.

They showered and fell into bed. The sun was well up before she woke and they guys were still flat out. She snuck out of bed, made coffee and then set about waking Matt's cock. Start small she told herself and Jay had drunk more, so was harder to wake.

Getting Matt hard turned out to be easy and the activity woke Jay.

"There's nothing like an early morning spit roast," she said as Jay dispensed with the oral wake up and positioned himself behind her.

Refreshed by the sleep the boys had stamina and in ten minutes Jay had filled a condom. Matt changed ends but decided the other hole was better and set about making the best of his smaller cock in the tighter hole.

Jay got the prize for enthusiasm getting hard and ready to come again before Matt was done. He pulled out of her mouth, pulled off the condom and sprayed all over her face, coming on her eyebrows and hair and leaving ropes of cream dripping off her chin. Two minutes later Matt had given he all he had and the two of them headed for the shower, both laughing.

Julie lay back on the bed listening to the sound and for the first time beginning to ask herself what the hell she was doing. She thought about showering with the men but decided against it. A few minutes later they were out.

"Any chance of breakfast?" said Matt? "I know it's kind of pushy but if you don't ask..."

"Can I shower first?"

"It would make my day if you could serve us breakfast exactly as you are," said Jay.

Julie looked from one to the other, trying to think how to play this.

"You dress and I'll get breakfast. No more sex but you can look all you like."

What to cook, that was the question? She scanned the fridge. Plenty of eggs but not much else. What about the freezer. After a brief hunt she found some salmon. Scrambled eggs, and salmon on toast, that ought to do and it was quick.

By the time the two guys had found their clothes, finished making jokes and bragging to each other and actually gotten dressed, she had it on the table.
 
The guys were civilised and grateful for breakfast, both hinted that it would be fun to do this again, asking sly questions about when her husband would be home.

"I bet he'd like to see you like this." Matt said.

"Has he ever? I mean have you ever been caught?"

The guys thought they were winding her up but Julie knew she needed something else, she needed to feel guilty. She let the banter continue as the realisation dawned, savouring the sinking feeling in her gut. When their plates were clear she spoke.

"He does know," she said. "What would you say if he walked in?" For the first time since getting out of bed, she looked them in the eye, first Matt and then Jay. "Hmm? what would you say?"

"Is he bigger than me?"

"Taller? heavier?"

"Bigger, you know."

"What difference does it make?"

"Some guys with small dicks like humiliation," Matt said.

"Does that get you off?"

"Well, kind of, maybe, I mean if that's what he expected."

"What about what I expect?"

"You just picked us up and fucked all night, so... well that's kind of obvious. I mean... you've not been getting enough, so he needs something to push him."

"But I love him."

"Do you? Look at you, covered in cream, serving breakfast naked. You love being a slut, that's for sure and maybe you love his money."

She sat looking at them for a few seconds, shrugged and began picking up the plates. She allowed the silence to build, saying nothing, turning towards the kitchen, stacking the plates in the dishwasher before turning back to them, standing, watching their faces, waiting. She gave it another ten seconds but neither of them seemed to know what to say.

"Thanks for the fucking, I needed it. You need to work on your diplomacy skills. My husband is a big shot lawyer, he'd run rings around you."

She glanced at the clock, frowning.

"Your taxi should be here any minute, it's late already."

"But my car's outside," said Matt, suddenly looking puzzled.

"Oh, sorry, I should have said. It was towed first thing." She picked up a card and handed it to Matt. "Here's the garage. The taxi knows where it is. It's all paid for."

"What the fuck—"

"The fucking is all done," she chuckled. "I have this deal with the garage. It's part of my security system. I like to fuck but I'm not stupid."

"You are something else," said Jay.

"You never said a truer word," she said as the doorbell rang. "They valet your car while it's there and fill it with gas. Have a great day guys."

The two men looked at each other, puzzled, unsure.

"You're serious?"

"I'm a control freak," Julie said. "sometimes I like to let go, like last night, and you guys were great, really great, but you gave yourselves away this morning."

"Huh?"

"Making me make breakfast like this— showing me who is boss? Next thing you'll be wanting to whore me out to your friends."

"We wouldn't."

"Sure, maybe I even believe you, but I play safe. Take the taxi, enjoy your clean car, chalk it up to experience. You'll probably never find another one like me. Come on, the taxi's here."

The two of them allowed her to usher them towards the door, stunned, unsure. To cap it all the taxi driver was a woman.

Julie watched them leave, smiling for the first time. She closed the door and stood looking at herself in the hallway mirror.

“Slut,” she said, scowling at her reflection. She strolled into the kitchen and swigged the last of her coffee. Outside the pool looked inviting. Unsure for a moment whether to shower or swim she didn't hear the door.

"Who were those guys?"

She spun around to find Laura standing at the kitchen door, clad in leather, pealing off her crash helmet, shaking out her long hair.

"Fuck," she said.

"Uh, yeah."

For a second Julie was at a loss, a hundred thoughts flashing through her head. "This is going to sound stupid," she said. "I, um, needed to be out of control and I wanted to feel guilty."

"Oh, right," Laura laughed, "and do you?"

Julie shrugged her shoulders, a resigned, enigmatic smile flitting across her face.

"Dunno. Yeah, maybe a little. Can I have a swim?"

Laura laughed. "Like you need permission... Am I supposed to make you sit down and confess."

Julie laughed, "Well yeah, it would probably do me good." By then she'd gathered her thoughts. "So why are you here? Where's Anthony?"

"He's rented a motorhome and trundled off into the wild blue yonder."

"Seriously? He's actually done it. We did talk about it."

"He said. He said you told him to buy one."

"Yeah, I think I did— when I was feeling bad about making more money than him. So he's renting to check it out, being cautious, typical Anthony. Did you go with him?"

"To begin with but I think he needed to be alone."

"He left me a note." Julie paused, examining Laura's face, waiting to see if she would say anything. "some of it was  odd."

"Odd?"

"He said sending you was a good idea but you might not think so. Does that make sense to you?"

"I think he likes me," Laura said, "but he's all mixed up. He knows he neglected you and, he sort of worships you, but now he's confused as well. He can't figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"Did you go into business because he neglected you, like because you had no alternative, or did you always want to do what you do?"

Julie pointed at one of the dining chairs and sat down herself. "Those are probably the wrong questions."

"You have better one?"

"Did I ever believe in monogamy? Did I always think that fucking clients was okay?" Julie shrugged. "Get the idea? Maybe the most important of all is why we didn't talk more about all this stuff."

"That's easy. You gave him space to make his career."

"That's too easy," said Julie, shaking her head.

"Did you ever try to talk to him?"

"Sort of, once or twice, way back."

"And what happened?"

Julie sat for a moment staring at the table. "I can't remember exactly, and maybe I came at it from the wrong angle, I was too tentative, but as soon as he clocked that I was talking about one of my clients he shut me up. We'd always had this rule that neither of us would talk about work unless we had the client's permission."

"So, let me get this clear, it never occurred to you to make clients sign a disclaimer that they could only fuck you if you can tell your husband about it?"

Julie looked up, catching a mocking tone in Laura's voice, saw her face and laughed.

"No," she said. "Obviously that's where I went wrong."

“So what last night all about?”

“Me being fucked up and confused.”

“Fucked up I get, what’s with the confused bit.”

“Is all this sex with clients bullshit? Do I just like fucking? Why don’t I feel guilty about the clients?” She paused, “so I did the obvious thing, fucked some nonclients.”

“Did you feel guilty?”

“Not until you turned up and I was standing there naked with cum all over my face.”

“Really.”

“Actually yes. Weird huh? I guess that’s what it takes, someone you know, knowing.”

“I’m not being judgemental.”

“That’s not the point, it’s me that’s doing that. Guilt’s something you do to yourself.”

Julie looked at Laura for a moment and grinned, “so it worked, one way or another... How come you’re here? You didn’t come to catch me at it.”

“Well, um, not exactly.”

“That sounds ominous— keep going.”

“Anthony asked me to deliver this.” Laura pulled an envelope from her bag. “It's... Um... Legal papers," she suppressed an embarrassed giggle. "I've carried legal papers for him before, as a process server and all that so, I thought It would be quicker than posting it.”

"So you can serve writs and stuff like that?"

"Sort of," she said, hesitating. "I think he wants you to read it," she said. "I've got some other stuff to deliver, so have a shower or a swim or something. I'll be back in an hour."

"You'll be back?"

"Yeah... yeah," she said. "We need to talk."

Laura laid the envelope on the table, looked at her watch, picked up her helmet. "Must dash," she said, pulling the door behind her. Julie heard the motorcycle startup as the door bounced on the catch and swung back open. Julie got up and strolled naked to the door, stood there for the world to see as she watched Laura ride off down the road. As the bike disappeared Julie still hadn't moved. There was no one watching, no curtains twitching, but there wouldn't be would there. The house was detached, with a long driveway.

Julie turned back towards the house and then, looked back down the drive, fixed the door on the latch so that it couldn't shut behind her and walked slowly down the drive, naked, with cum drying in her hair and on her face, strolling slowly, standing upright and proud all the way to the letterbox at the end of the drive. She opened the box, took out the morning paper, checked for mail and strolled back to the house.

In the hallway, she closed the door and looked at herself in the mirror.

"Are you ashamed of yourself?" she said to her reflection, raising one eyebrow, "because you should be."

Back in the kitchen, she picked up Anthony’s envelope.

Across the lefthand side, she read the words:-

Divorce/Dissolution (Judicial) separation petition

She didn’t read another word, didn’t see that the form was blank, that there were no names filled in; she saw the words and collapsed in a sobbing mess.

Julie cried for ten minutes, or maybe it was twenty. She staggered out to the pool and threw herself into the water. She floated face down trying to imagine what death would be like. She rolled over.

“Hell wouldn’t be this wet,” she said to the sky, “maybe I’d better stay in the water.”

Relieved that she could laugh at something she swam to the end of the pool and climbed out. What now? She towelled off in a desultory way, dabbing here and there and wrapping the cloth around her head to soak up most of the water.

Back in the kitchen, she looked at the papers on the table then turned away. She turned to the coffee machine then had second thoughts, a third cup this early would do more harm than good. She opened the fridge, gazed at the half filled bottle of white wine and an alarm bell chimed somewhere in her head telling her that alcohol was not the answer.

She turned on the radio but she couldn't concentrate, whatever the voices said her mind drifted back to the papers on the table. She picked them up but couldn't get past those words at the top of the page, her eyes filled with tears and she put the papers back on the table face down.

She made tea, the English solution to every problem, sweet, thick tea like the builders drink it, made in a big mug with a tea bag, slumming it. She drank it slowly, trying to savour the sensation, trying to believe that it could lift her.

With two inches of tea still to drink she decided to dress. Leaving the mug on the table she made her way upstairs.

She dressed slowly, allowing herself the luxury of dithering. Should she dress up or dress down? A skirt, a dress or jeans? It took another ten minutes after she'd settled on jeans to decide not to wear a bra, to sit, half naked in front of the mirror and try to do her hair and makeup and finally to settle on the right blouse.

She spun around a few times in front of the full length mirror, picked out a silver bracelet, dithered a little longer over shoes and eventually went downstairs.

She stood in the kitchen doorway. The envelope hadn't moved. The tea mug was where she'd left it, somehow less threatening than the envelope. She drank the remaining tea.

Why was the pile of papers so big? Surely it didn't take all that to ask for a divorce? She'd have to read it all, whatever it was. Why didn't Anthony call? It wasn't like him to chicken out. Why not come home? Why send Laura? Was he going to marry Laura? Her fingers rested on the pile of papers but she couldn't bring herself to turn them over. She got up and walked out to the garden.

Would Anthony want the house? If he did she could afford another, could afford more than this would raise. Would Anthony want some of her money? Was that it?

She sat by the pool feeling the breeze ruffling her hair, rippling the water and bringing the scent from the orange blossom. In another minute she realised that she was crying again. So much for all that work with her makeup. She was still sitting by the pool, dabbing her eyes and trying to get herself together when Laura arrived.

She strolled out to the pool, stripping off her motorcycle gear as she came and without looking at Julie dived in. She swam a length underwater, did a tumble turn and raced freestyle back to the place where she'd dropped her things. She hauled herself out of the water, ran a towel over her hair, threw back her head and let out a joyous hoot. Then she looked at Julie.

"Oh fuck," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Those papers," was all Julie managed to get out.

"I don't get it."

She sat on her haunches in front of Julie, puzzled, waiting for something more, but nothing came.

"Julie, did you read those papers?"

"Yes."

"All of them? Really? All of them?"

Julie looked up, wiping her eyes, trying to understand Laura's question.

"Not every page, no, I mean what would be the point? Once I saw 'divorce' I just died."

"Ah, okay, maybe I'd better read them to you."

"So you can gloat?"

"You really haven't read past that page have you. Who's name is on the divorce form, who's name is in the box you have to fill in?"

Julie looked blank, shaking her head, frowning.

"Right, now I get it,"Laura said. "Let me guess, you saw the word divorce and stopped reading, right?"

Julie nodded.

"Well that settles a few questions," Laura laughed. "Julie darling the forms are blank. You need to read Anthony's letter, you really do. I don't know every word of it, but I know what he's trying to say."

Julie wiped her eyes again and stared blankly at Laura.

"Would you like me to explain or will you read the papers?"

"Maybe you could start me off."

"Okay. Anthony loves you. That's where it starts. Keep that in your head. He feels bad that he's let you down, neglected you, put work first, all that shit; call it what you will, the point is that it's all water under the bridge.

He wants to start over but he doesn't know where you want to go. He's set out a bunch of options, typical lawyer stuff and one of those options, one of them, not the only one, not the one he wants, is getting divorced. You suggested it, remember? You said it, so there's a blank set of papers there for you to fill in if that's what you want. I think he meant to put those papers at the back but he almost forgot to put them in at all... Freudian slip probably and I think he shoved them in the envelope at the last minute so they ended up on top."

She stopped, taking a breath examining Julie's face.

"He was all for filling out the forms so all you had to do was sign but I wouldn't let him. I told him I'd never speak to him again if he divorced you— if you filled in the form, if you divorced him, well that's different. You did tell me to entertain him, to fuck him actually, but he was all confused about it, so I told him he needed to sort himself out."

She paused, grinned at Julie. "Pretty amazing huh? I tell my lawyer boss that he needs to sort himself out."

"Sex is like that, it gives you power."

"It didn't take Anthony long to decide that he couldn't do that and be here. He was too close to everything, so he rented this motorhome and we took off. I still haven't fucked him. Feel any better?"

"Keep talking. I still feel upside down."

"Can I get dressed first?"

Julie nodded and Laura ran into the house. Julie followed slowly, getting as far as the kitchen and picking up Anthony's papers. Sure enough, when she looked beyond those first few words it was obvious that this was a blank form.

She leafed through the rest of the papers but her brain wasn't taking anything in. Laura reappeared a few minutes later.

"Have you read all this stuff? I mean do you know what all this is about, these options, could you tell me? Right now I don't think I can make sense of it."

"I'm really just the messenger."

"Yeah, I get that. I'm the one who's married to Ant, but he must have talked to you."

"Actually it's simple, except it looks complicated because Anthony can't help going all legal. There's three of us, right. The law does everything in twos, like you being married to Anthony, or I could marry Anthony or you and me could marry. Whichever way we do it, one of us is out on a limb. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess. So?"

"Anthony had another idea, what if we gave each other contracts."

"I thought marriage was a contract."

"It is, but actually, according to Anthony anyway, it's a crappy contract. If one of the parties breaks the rules the contract doesn't count for anything. Back in the day, and in some parts of the world you can sue someone who breaks up your marriage, but, if, for example, I ran off with Anthony, there's not a lot you can do about it. I'm not going to, but you get the idea. These days, legally, divorce is more binding than marriage. you have to agree stuff in front of a judge and you end up in court if you renege on the deal."

"So?"

"Say you and I wanted to be married, but instead of all the registry office stuff, we had a contract, a proper legally binding contract with penalty clauses and all that stuff.

“A contract to do the same things as if I was married to you but on top of that what if there was one between me and Anthony for the same things and one between you and Anthony. That’s what all the paper is for.”

Julie sat for a moment, slowly smiling.

“There is a snag, the marriage contract has stuff about—“

Being faithful, forsaking all others, that stuff.”

“Yeah, that stuff.” She paused, “there is a way past, if none of us were married then we could have a three way contract.” Julie stopped for a second. I could have stuff in it that marriage doesn't."

"Like what?"

"All sorts of stuff, salaries, joint funds, review periods, appraisal systems."

"Like performance reviews?"

"Yeah, why not. That's sort of what you've done for us isn't it, I mean we didn't call it that, but we're getting an external appraisal."

"No, no I didn't agree to that, you're reading too much into it. I'm just the messenger."

"Sure, but you get the idea."

“Would you go for that?”

“I might...” Her face changed, a smile creeping out from the worried frown.

“But you’d like to talk to Anthony first?”

“When he’s ready. For now, I’ll settle for not shooting the messenger.”

"The messenger might want more than that."

"Add that to the contract.”