Susan drummed her fingers on the metal table and pursed her lips, rocking her head side to side like she was trying to balance something in her mind.
“I’m barren,” Susan admitted. “And there we go. I can’t give him kids and he treated me appallingly. So I left him, got out while I could. Better off alone. Can’t be hanging around up there anymore, you know? It’s so depressing.”
It was July, a nice warm evening. It would be two years next month since her and Adam got hitched. How could it have gone so wrong, so quickly?
Anabel reached across the table. “I am so sorry.”
Susan pulled her hand away quickly, reluctant to receive sympathy.
“Enough about me. What about you?” Susan smiled at Anabel, and would have seemed genuine, but because the sun was so bright, Anabel could just see Susan’s eyes behind her sunglasses and there was some kind of contempt in them. Either that, or she was struggling to contain her emotions and it was the strain that was showing.
“Things are going great. Business is booming. Isaac is working all the time, though. The apartment is so quiet. I’m beginning to question why we bought the place.”
Susan sighed and pouted. “And still no ring on the finger?”
Anabel looked down at her finger sadly. “No.”
She’d been ready to get married and have babies when they first got together six years ago. Now she feared it would never happen. Men always had their time frames, didn’t they? They’d hold out on the engagement for as long as possible, and then a wedding would be a year in the planning (at least), then there’d be the ‘honeymoon’ phase after that lasting another year, during which they’d buy a proper house and equip it suitably before even thinking about kids. At the rate they were moving, Anabel had no faith she’d be pregnant until she was at least thirty-eight, and it was every woman’s fear they’d get to that age and find out they should have frozen their eggs or tried earlier.
Anabel’s drink arrived and she took a sip. It was rather delicious, actually. Raspberry gin or something with fresh lime and something else. She was tempted to throw it back all at once, but she was a little classier than that… and so was Susan. For as long as she’d known Susan, she’d never seen the woman drunk. Not once. That wasn’t Susan’s style but that didn’t mean to say the woman didn’t have it in her to go crazy in other ways. Susan might often seem to be cool, calm and collected… but Anabel knew better.
There was the six-year period when she didn’t see Susan at all, after they finished grammar school and during Anabel’s university years in Bristol and early years working in fashion. So, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four. Susan had dropped off the radar almost completely, aside from little updates Boris gave Anabel’s mother Julie. All Anabel knew about that time was that Susan was in hospital a lot with mental health issues and that the bloke she was going out with during that period was a waste of space (according to bias Boris). Anabel wondered what else took place during that six-year period that even Boris never found out about. It wasn’t surprising things had happened, though. She’d seen the signs at school – the barely concealed panic attacks, the rages, the way other girls were scared shitless of Susan for some reason. Anabel could sympathise. She lost her father when she was young. He died in a car accident. Susan lost her mother to MS. That’s why they’d remained friends, despite the chasm of those lost years.
After Susan split with that loser bloke, Susan and Anabel found one another again. Susan had got herself a job in Leeds and Anabel was working for a company in Manchester back then. The two of them would occasionally meet in each other’s cities, go for drinks and dinner, then part amiably. It was highly civilised and Anabel would always be surprised by the way Susan carried herself confidently, not to mention the flawlessness of her image and the put-togetherness of her demeanour. It left Anabel endlessly intrigued… wondering if she’d one day get to the bottom of Susan Pawlak, as she used to be known.
Then Susan started seeing someone (Adam) and Anabel moved to London and met Isaac at a party one night. The schoolfriends naturally grew apart, but over the years, whenever Susan had been in London, she’d looked in on Anabel and vice versa.
Still, it seemed reminiscent of before… that as soon as Susan was settled with someone, she broke off into her own little world again, not even bothering to ask Anabel for fashion advice as she once used to. Perhaps if she’d kept a close friend or two, she’d have had a sounding board and her marriage might have lasted? Anabel could hardly dole out relationship advice, but what was the saying? A problem shared is a problem halved.
Now Susan was single again, she was back in her life, the same as before.
Anabel saw Susan was no longer wearing her rings.
“So, you and Adam, there isn’t any going back?” Anabel broached the subject tentatively.
Susan seemed to bristle at the question and replied, “Nope.”
“But he seemed—”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Susan snapped. “I’m barren. I’m useless to him. End of.”
Adam had seemed like such a happy-go-lucky sort of chap – not at all the type to turn around and treat his wife badly, just because she couldn’t bear him children.
Anabel knew there was more to it. However, the way Susan was fidgeting, she knew it wouldn’t be as simple as getting a straight response from her friend.
“Anyway, you and Isaac,” she said, sounding like someone who was trying to be a good friend but found the whole small-talk thing tedious. “He hasn’t put a ring on it. Maybe that’s a good thing. I speak from experience… husbands so often turn out to be disappointing.”
Anabel didn’t know how Susan could say something like that when she had only been married once. If she was Liz Taylor and had been married six times already, maybe… but…
Anabel wasn’t what you’d call experienced when it came to love, either. Isaac was her first long-term relationship. Before him, she’d dedicated her time to climbing the greasy pole, travelling the world for inspiration and enjoying no-strings sex with many, many different partners – to make up for those long years of education during which she’d convinced herself she wasn’t sexy, attractive or worth anybody’s time. How wrong she had been.
The quandary was, how much should she tell Susan about her problems with Isaac?
“Are you really sure you can’t patch things up with Adam? He is so handsome.”
Susan pouted again. “I did say, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but…”
Adam was really gorgeous. Like, really gorgeous.
A lot of people didn’t see it at first, but once he started speaking, he was utterly charming, funny and came alive when he was larking about.
Anabel didn’t believe this story Susan was trying to spin.
“So, what are you going to do for work down here?” Anabel asked, shelving her doubts for now; she’d get more out of Susan another time.
Susan smiled but it was a smile without any substance. It was a nervous smile… a smile that hid something.
“I’m going to do a bit of work for my dad, a bit of networking,” Susan explained, “and I’m seeing someone new. It’s casual but he’s given me somewhere to live.”
Now this was cause for concern.
What route was Susan heading down this time?
“Is he married?” Anabel asked, eyes wide.
“Nope,” she said, “it’s just very simple. He’s giving me somewhere to live. He lives out of town but comes back now and again.”
“And how did you meet this man?” Anabel asked, incredulous.
“I’ve been seeing him for a few months, actually. He’s one of the shareholders at Bloom but I’ve left the company now. We’d do it in hotels and stuff. God, Adam had got so boring.”
Anabel didn’t know if she was meant to react but she was glad that so far, her reaction remained hidden, just a knot of tension at the base of her throat she couldn’t quite get rid of.
“Does Adam know?�
�
Susan threw her head back laughing. “As if. He’d murder me if he knew.” One of her eyebrows arched so high, it rose above the top of her oversized sunglasses.
“Wow,” said Anabel.
“Oh, come on, babes,” Susan corralled, “try it sometime. Get yours, you know? Adam was lovely and all that but he would have freaked out if I’d told him about the things I really wanted in the bedroom.”
Anabel sat up straight and nodded when the waiter came around once more, asking if they wanted anything else. Both ladies ordered another drink, subtle nods letting the waiter know they’d most likely be here quite a while longer.
“But…?” Anabel scratched her head. “While you’ve been married?”
Susan pinched her lip between her teeth and tried to appear sorry but not really sorry at all. “Oh, well, actually… there have been a few. That’s why I convinced Adam to work from home, so I could keep it all separate and get away with a little more. I mean, I’ve just had so much luck, you know?”
Anabel couldn’t quite wrap her head around it. “Don’t these guys know you’re married? Aren’t they bothered?”
“Nope,” said Susan, “rarely do they display any guilt or concern or whatever. They question it, of course, but that’s because most of my lovers are polyamorous. So. That’s how it is. It’s great I can have who I want now I’m not with Adam and don’t have to be so careful, and the guy I’m now living gratis off, Niall, he’s always had who he wants. He doesn’t make big demands of me and I still get a house, which would be going empty most of the time without me there. It’s pretty sweet, don’t you think?”
“What about… STDs, that kind of thing.”
Susan snorted, looking suitably disgusted Anabel had brought it up. “I always get them to suit up. And take Niall for instance. He wears condoms with almost every partner. Including me. The only woman he doesn’t wear them with is his long-term girlfriend. And she has multiple partners, too. But she practises safe sex as well. It’s just the same as rolling a rubber on a dildo, Bel. Nothing different.”
Anabel tried to hide how horrified she was, but Susan lowered her sunglasses to survey Anabel’s expression.
“You disapprove.”
“It’s just shocking, that’s all. Maybe I’ve lived a sheltered life.”
“Don’t come over like that,” Susan trilled, “I know you’ve had some bone in you.”
“Yeah, but… if I do marry Isaac, I wouldn’t want someone else in the background. I’d want the real deal.”
Susan sighed, leaned forward and reassured Anabel, “That doesn’t exist, my darling. Besides, you’re not going to marry him, are you? Look at you. You’ve been chewing that straw in your drink for the past half an hour and every time the waiter walks past in his tight black trousers, you almost melt into a puddle.”
Anabel felt a rash creep up her neck. “It’s that obvious?”
“I mean…” Susan’s mouth slanted with a look that said it was more than obvious.
Anabel shook her head. “I’m not getting it as much as I’d like but I do love Isaac and I think he loves me. He just works long hours.”
Susan removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on the table, resting her chin on her hand to tell Anabel, “Oh, yeah… I used to work late a lot, too, babes. Trust me… he’s getting his own. Time to get yours, if you ask me.”
Anabel had to admit the thought had crossed her mind, but Isaac was different to other men she knew. He wasn’t like that, she hoped. Still, Susan saw the doubt in her eyes and shrugged.
“Bel, come on. Sort it out. You’re young. You could have anyone. Don’t be defeated. Get yourself a lover. Nearly everyone I know has one.”
“Says the woman hanging around with polyamorous types.”
Susan pursed her lips. “As if you haven’t thought about it.”
“About what?” Anabel exclaimed.
“Cheating… taking a lover.”
“I think about taking a lover all the time, but his name is Isaac and I’m just waiting for him to come back to me.”
“Until he doesn’t,” Susan told her, picking at her nails, an unimpressed expression in her eyes. “Until one day, he comes home, tells you there’s someone else and he’s leaving you.”
Susan’s chest heaved up and down, like it was an experience she’d lived through herself.
“That’s what happened with your first boyfriend?” Anabel asked.
“One of the things,” Susan admitted, with a hint of bitterness, quickly replaced by shrugging it off. “All I know, right, is that we can be just like them if we want, and the best thing?”
“What? I don’t know,” Anabel huffed, lingering over her drink.
“They never suspect it. They don’t think we’re like them. But the truth is, we are. We want excitement and all that, too. We want the thrill… the unmatched euphoria of being with someone different. Come on, Anabel… just try it once. See if I’m wrong. Isaac need never know. This is a city you can get lost in and that’s exactly what I intend to do now I’m here. Trust me, it will change your life.”
Anabel wasn’t convinced it would help, this whole taking a lover thing, but what she was convinced of was that she didn’t want to end up like Susan – a divorce under her belt and a non-committal partner lending her a flat in London. Surely there was some pretext to that.
“So, are we eating?” Susan asked, looking smarmy.
Anabel grinned and drank the last of her drink. “No, I think I’m going to sort my life out, that’s what I’m going to do.”
Susan winked, making her own assumption about that.
“Why don’t we meet next week, for drinks? Come to my place and tell me all about it?”
Anabel was sceptical, but nodded. “You’re on.”
“Can’t wait. Don’t worry, I’ll get these. You get going.”
Anabel stood from the table and pushed her chair back, almost crashing into the waiter behind her. He locked eyes with her and she almost did melt into a puddle, the collision she’d just had with his arm making her skin burn where he’d touched.
Susan giggled as Anabel walked off, or rather wobbled away… dazed.
It was clear if she didn’t act soon, she was going to spontaneously combust.
She needed a night of passion sooner rather than later.
Her sanity depended on it.
The Solution
Instead of trying to acquire herself a lover, Anabel decided she would go home, set the mood and try to lure Isaac into bed. It had to be worth a try, didn’t it? They used to be so hot, surely it could be like that again? Fuck what Susan had said, Anabel wouldn’t walk that path. No way. If she couldn’t make it work with Isaac, she’d have to admit defeat and then move on, but she certainly wasn’t the cheating type. Absolutely not.
Anabel let herself into the apartment and dashed straight upstairs, running herself a bath and stripping completely naked in front of the mirror.
She studied her own body and knew it was a good body. She had heavy breasts and a tiny waist, smooth, round hips and a neat bottom. She had a long neck, striking hair and eyes and slender legs. It was a body that was ripe for fucking and baby-making. Her biological clock was having a go at her and it was about time she started acting on it.
Dunking herself in a bath of luxurious bubbles, she shaved everywhere and even paid special attention to her lady hair, trimming it so there was barely anything left.
She scrubbed her skin until it was gleaming and sugar scrubbed her arse until she was sure no cellulite remained – or if it did, it was too red back there to notice.
In the walk-in closet, glowing and bright, she pulled out her ankle-length negligee and allowed her hair to get a little wild around her face, the steam from the bath having made it uncharacteristically wavy.
Anabel walked downstairs next, lit candles around the living room and threw a ready-made lasagne into the oven. She made a salad and tossed it in the bowl, leaving it to settle a bit. If
he got home having eaten, it wouldn’t necessarily matter. She’d eat anyway and they could still chat across the table with some wine and low lighting. It’d be nice for him to get home and find her so relaxed and sparsely dressed, she told herself.
However, it was an hour and a half later that he finally arrived home, a full twelve hours since he left. He groaned as he walked into the house, sighing with what she guessed was tiredness. He found her watching TV in the main living area and she wondered if the lasagne she’d kept in the oven on low would be spoiled by now.
He walked past her and grabbed the decanter from the small drinks unit, poured himself one and growled.
“Something smells good,” he said.
“Are you hungry?”
“Thought you were eating out.” It looked like he was questioning himself about that, wondering if he’d misheard her or forgotten what it was she’d told him earlier.
“I decided to come home,” she said, stretching her limbs across the sofa, “so I could relax and be ready for you when you got back.”
He never once looked at the skin she was showing, nor acknowledged the effort she’d made.
“Lemme get into my scruffs and we’ll eat then,” he said.
“Do you want wine?” She called after him.
“Oh god, yeah.”
She dished up, thanking the gods the lasagne wasn’t entirely spoiled, though a little crusty that was for sure. She added salad on the side of his plate, not wanting to give him anything to do that might distract him from talking with her.
She served dinner on the dining table by the window and lit the candle between them. She poured wine and he raised his eyebrows when he emerged in his long board shorts and baggy t-shirt.
“Wow, we haven’t sat at the table in ages,” he said, rubbing his nose, “did I forget an anniversary?”
“Nope.”
As he tucked into his dinner, still not remotely interested in the fact she was barely dressed, she looked down to check herself and realised, Yep, the cleavage is epic.
Bad Lover Page 2
