by E. K. Blair
Alec: I need to get going. You girls enjoy the rest of your night.
Me: Where are you off to?
Alec: A party.
A pang of something needles me. I’m unable to put a word to it, but it’s a multitude of pieces of shock, jealousy, surprise, let down, inferiority, irritation, hurt, and insecurity that make up this raw emotion that pricks me. Maybe it’s the denial I have about this guy who seems so genuine and nice. I know this part about him, but from everything we’ve talked about and his personality, it’s so difficult for me to see him as this emotionless man that can go and sleep with random people. A man who doesn’t care to even get to know these people he’s doing this with. To me, the type of man who does that should come across as an insincere asshole, which is nothing like who Alec is to me. Alec spends hours on end talking to me and texting. He asks me questions and takes the time to answer mine.
“A party?” Brooke questions, and I explain to her what Alec told me about the exclusive sex club scene he’s a part of. She listens in astonishment, the same way I did when Alec first told me about it. “But you said he got off on the phone with you today, and he still needs more? Is he like an addict or something?”
“I asked him if he was, but he assured me he wasn’t,” I explain. “He said he has a high sex drive but he gets off more on the thrill of sex with strangers, with watching people have sex, and with people watching him.”
Alec: Are you still there?
Me: Yeah, sorry.
I respond when I realize the length of pause I took, and then the phone rings with his call.
“Hey.”
“Is everything okay?”
I note the softness to his voice, a contradiction to his normal husky tone.
“Yes.” Brooke then stands to excuse herself to the restroom, and I begin to ramble, “I just didn’t know how to respond, and then Brooke asked what you meant by ‘party’ and I tried explaining to her what you had told me about it.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No,” I answer, but it feels like a lie. He doesn’t say anything, and when the silence grows, I falter a little, saying “I don’t know. I mean . . . maybe it does a little.”
“Why?”
I deflect off my unsettled feelings and put it on him. “I guess it worries me, the fact that you’re spreading yourself around. Aren’t you worried?”
“Everything in life comes with risks, Victoria. But this is a calculated risk. I’m safe, my partners are safe, everyone is tested. It’s not as if we are meeting up in sketchy underground clubs.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Different places,” he tells me. “Tonight I’ll be at the XV Beacon.”
“The XV?” I question because the XV Beacon is a luxury boutique hotel in the heart of Boston. It caters to the sophisticated and distinguished and has a rich history in the city. “That hotel doesn’t seem like the one to accommodate a sex party.”
“You’d be surprised, my dear. In fact, the Gilbert Stuart suite is host to our gathering twice a year.”
“And they allow that?”
“A person of the ‘they’ you refer to is a member. So, yes, they allow. It’s not like what you are imagining though. We aren’t getting trashed off booze and drugs and having obscenely loud fuckapades.”
An uncomfortable giggle slips past my lips because I have no idea what these parties are like.
“But I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and when you went quiet on me, I was worried I had done just that.”
“It’s just weird. Not you, just . . . I guess it’s because I don’t know that side of you. I mean, you’ve told me, but our interactions have painted you in a particular light, so it’s hard for me to imagine you otherwise.”
“Does it bother you?”
Nothing he does should bother me. He owes me nothing, and it would be foolish of me to assume that he should.
“No. I have no right to judge you. It’s not like you ever hid this from me. You’ve been transparent from our very first conversation.”
He takes a pause, and I can hear the clinking of keys and a car door shutting. A few more long seconds of nothingness pass before he finally speaks.
“It’s something I need.”
“I know,” I murmur. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to defend who you are to me. I’m sorry.”
He starts his car. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Setting my phone down, my mind runs wild with thoughts of what tonight would look like if I were a fly on the wall in that suite. How many people? What do they look like? Do they talk before they fuck? Will Alec be having sex or just getting himself off while watching others? I even wonder about the little things. What kind of car does he drive? What is he wearing? I tell myself these are normal thoughts to have about a picture I’ve never seen and have to create in my head to form a semblance of understanding.
When Brooke returns from the bathroom, I tell her my thoughts as she sits and listens. She assures me it’s normal to be curious and that she’s curious as well.
“He’ll be at the XV,” I tell her. “What if I went too?”
“Can you even do that?”
“No, I’m not saying go to the party. That wouldn’t even be possible. But what if I went to see if I can catch a glimpse of him walking into the building?”
“Like a stalker?” she teases before smiling and enticing, “You totally should.”
“You think so?”
“If it weren’t for the kids, I would totally go with you. Yes. Go.”
The mystery of who this guy is runs rampant, increasing my curiosity, and when I see the excitement in my best friend’s eyes, I get the courage I need to go and check out this stranger I’ve come to know.
“You don’t mind staying here with the girls?”
“Not at all.”
I leap off the couch to grab my purse and keys. “I won’t be gone long,” I call out from over my shoulder as I rush to the garage.
Driving through the night and into the city, I go a little faster than the speed limit, hoping I can beat him there. He’s battling city traffic for his whole drive, whereas I’m only battling it for part of mine.
My heart races, and my palms sweat as I grip the steering wheel. I feel as if I’m on a crazy adventure.
I kind of am though.
This whole week has been crazy. It’s strange to think about how much I’ve come to know this guy in a matter of days. But Brooke was spot-on—it should be no surprise that I’m as enamored as I am. Alec is the wild card in my predictable life. He’s thrown my daily routine off-kilter, and for me, it’s exciting when I don’t know what to expect.
So I drive.
Headlights pass me by in a city so alive with people. I wind through the zigzag streets as my car’s GPS gives me directions, and I soon find myself pulling up along the curb across the street from the entrance to the hotel. Sky-high buildings line the narrow city street, and when I turn my car off, I scan the area, but Alec isn’t among any of the people walking along the sidewalk.
The valet is in mere reach of me. I watch as cars pull up and the attendants open the doors to reveal the passengers. One by one, but none are Alec until a dark silver SUV pulls up. I inch my head closer to my car door window as he walks over to the valet stand to say something to one of the attendants. Finally, some of my questions have answers. I know what kind of car he drives, and I know what he’s wearing. A navy, collared, button-down shirt, which is tucked into a pair of dark gray slacks. I didn’t expect to him to be so pulled together, but he is, and that esoteric pang returns in my chest.
Up until this moment, he’s been someone I’ve created in my head—a fictitious character that lives inside my phone and on the computer, but now, seeing him, he’s no longer imaginary.
He’s real.
Stepping out of the safety of the phone and into reality, he never truly existed until now. Bec
ause it’s now that I can see him, and if I were standing next to him and took a breath, he’d have a scent. And if I touched him, he’d have temperature.
I slouch down in my seat as I continue to watch his every move. The night’s shadow reveals a slightly unshaven jawline and perfectly styled hair that’s a tad long on top, not the tightly clipped style Landon has.
He turns to walk away from the valet cart, but he quickly stops in his tracks when his eyes find me. I freeze.
Fuck!
I’m paralyzed in mortification, holding my breath and wondering if he can even see me well enough to know if it’s me or just some random person. He stands and stares right at me while he slips his valet ticket into his wallet and then shoves it into his back pants pocket. Only seconds pass, but it feels like minutes, possibly hours as I listen to the thumping of my heart against my chest. I notice the side of his mouth lift in a sly smirk before he opens the door and walks into the hotel.
As soon as he’s out of sight, I release the breath I’ve been holding on to and drop my head into my hands, muttering to myself, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”
He totally knew it was me, and now I look like some desperate stalker, which is exactly what I didn’t want to look like. And what the hell was that look on his face? He must think I’m as pathetic as I feel right now. I cannot believe I am doing a drive-by this late at night on a guy I don’t even know. I’m a thirty-two-year-old woman acting like a complete idiot. There is no way he’s going to talk to me now that he’s caught me spying on him. I mean, who does this?
I’ll tell you who . . . me. A middle-aged housewife who was desperate for a little bit of fun.
Not five minutes after I return home does Landon walk in. My heartbeat spikes even further through the adrenaline rushing through me, and the heat of fear flushes my face when he looks at me.
Can he see I’ve just done something wrong?
Was it even wrong? I mean, it’s not like I met Alec face to face, talked to him, or even got close enough to touch him. No. All I did was park across the street and watch him. Just a girl having a little fun—innocent fun—that’s all.
When Brooke heads out, I use the high I’m still riding on and sling my arms around Landon’s neck, asking, “How did it go?”
“It couldn’t have gone better.”
“How long until the review comes out?”
“Possibly next week.”
I follow him as he walks into the bathroom and watch him undress before he steps inside the shower. With the excitement from tonight still coursing through me, I strip my clothes off and join him in the shower. He’s been working so hard lately and has been under an exorbitant amount of stress, so I offer him some much-needed relief.
“Not tonight,” he says when I run my hands up his chest, not even giving himself a chance to get in the mood. “I’ve got nothing left in me after the long day I’ve had.”
I could push him, but I don’t want to irritate him, so I step out of the shower to allow him time to unwind.
Landon joins me in bed a while later and falls asleep instantly.
I roll onto my side, away from him, and allow the thoughts of the crazy day I had to keep me awake. My mind drifts to the phone sex, to chatting with Brooke, to sneaking around in the city, to seeing Alec, and then ending at Alec’s cryptic smirk.
That damn smirk.
What was the thought behind it?
I replay it over and over in my head. The way he looked at me, the way he smiled. I then go back to our phone call before I decided to go see him. I could tell by the concern in his voice that he didn’t want to make me feel uncomfortable with the fact that he would be fucking random women tonight.
But then that look in his eye and that damn smirk . . . I can’t stop thinking about it.
I grow even more restless the more I allow my mind to fester over all this. I reach for my phone on my nightstand and flick the switch to silence it. Looking over my shoulder, I see Landon has rolled over with his back facing me. His breaths are slow and deep as he sleeps, and when I roll back over, I cautiously type out my text and send it to Alec.
Me: Are you awake?
Staring at the screen, it eventually fades to black, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s still at the party. If he’s having sex while his phone is buzzing from the pocket of his pants that are lying on the floor. But I wonder no more when my phone lights up with a text from him, reviving me instantly.
Alec: Why are you up so late?
Me: Can’t sleep.
I wonder who’s going to be the first to mention the elephant in the room, and when he doesn’t message me back, I bite the bullet.
Me: I’m sorry about tonight.
Alec: Sorry? For what?
Is he really going to torture me by making me spell it out for him? Can’t we both be coy, acknowledge my idiocy, and move on, never making a mention of it again?
Me: For coming to see you.
Alec: Tell me why you came.
In my exhaustion, lying in the warmth of my bed where I had two orgasms with him earlier, I throw the lies out the window and confess.
Me: I guess I wanted to know you were real.
Alec: I’m not real to you?
Me: You are now.
Alec: I’ve always been real, Victoria.
Landon shifts, and I turn around to make sure he’s still asleep before returning to my phone.
Me: Can I ask you something?
Alec: Anything.
Me: You saw me watching you and you gave me a look . . . a smirk. Why?
Alec: Because you came to me.
My eyes absorb those five words until they swim out of focus and the pang I felt earlier returns.
Alec: Come to me again.
Me: It’s late. And I’m nervous.
Alec: I’ll wait then. I don’t want you to be scared with me.
Me: You’re just so different than what I’m used to.
Alec: And how do you think I feel? You’re nothing like what I’m used to either. Your views, your modesty, your resistance, your values. I share your same hesitations.
Me: I guess I never saw it from your standpoint.
Alec: Let’s talk more tomorrow. It’s late and you need to sleep.
Me: Good night.
Alec: Good night, Victoria.
Setting my phone back on my nightstand, I close my eyes, but sleep refuses to find me as I wonder what it is I’m doing with this game I’ve created with Alec.
Brooke and I pile into the back of her husband’s Escalade with the kids. It’s a tradition with our two families that we visit the Belkin Family Farm at the peak of autumn every year. Landon was the first to bring me here back when we were dating, and I fell in love with it. It wasn’t until Brooke and Chris had their son that we all started going together.
The three kids situate themselves in the very back while Brooke and I buckle into the second row bucket seats. The guys are up front, chatting about the New England Patriots game last week, oblivious to the mayhem of laughter as Emily and Jill play with Ryder. We head south, and the drive takes a little over a half-hour before we arrive at the 180-acre farm, which boasts train rides, hay pyramids, farm animals, mazes, hay rides, face painting, and more. It’s enough to keep the kids entertained for the whole day, but the main reason for our visits each year is the apple, pear, and pumpkin picking.
“You have no idea how good it feels to finally have a day off,” Landon tells me as we walk hand in hand.
I look to him as the kids run around in excitement, trying to decide what they want to do first, and smile. “Remember the first time you brought me here?”
“How could I forget? That group of kids caught us kissing with my hand up your shirt while we were in the orchards.”
My head falls against his arm as I recall the squealing and laughter that erupted as Landon groped me. He thought we’d be well hidden among the plum trees, since their picking season had already passed, but a group of wanderers found
us. I was flushed with embarrassment but Landon laughed it off. Those memories feel like a lifetime ago. No longer are we two young kids making out in the orchard. We are now husband and wife—parents—who are consumed by busy and stressful careers and who are, more often than not, passersby in the early mornings and late nights. Sure, we had spontaneous sex the other night, but that was a rare occurrence.
I can’t remember the last time we spent a day like this as a family, so I do my best to focus on Landon and the girls, but thoughts of Alec creep in when I least expect them to. The girls get their faces painted, Brooke and I laugh as they jump wildly in the bounce houses, and I cuddle into Landon’s arms as we go on a hay ride. Hours pass, and yet fleeting thoughts of Alec infiltrate moments where he shouldn’t belong. I tell myself it’s because this is the first day since we crossed paths that we haven’t talked. It feels strange when every day this week has been consumed with him. We can barely go twenty minutes without, at the very least, sending a text. And now that Landon has a day off, I’m no longer afforded the luxury of time to converse with my new friend.
“I didn’t take my birth control pill this morning,” Brooke tells me quietly as we stand among a mass of Fuji trees.
My eyes widen when I look at the huge smile on her face. “So you’re going for baby number two?”
“Chris has been asking for a while, and I don’t know, when I woke up this morning it finally felt right.”
I look over to our husbands: Landon has Jill on his shoulders so she can reach the apples toward the top of one of the trees, and Chris is watching his son as Emily helps him pick apples from the lower branches.
“Chris is a great dad,” I note to which Brooke responds, “They both are.”
And they are. We are two very lucky girls who have found husbands who are wonderful, hands-on fathers. I’ve never doubted Landon in our marriage, and I still don’t, but even as I watch him, there’s a needling inside of me that’s creating an unfamiliar friction in my stomach. It’s an uneasy feeling I can’t rid myself of—a noose that restricts me from reveling in the joy I should be feeling in this moment. So, I turn to Brooke, as if she’s my security blanket, and focus on her.
