She spun around and made her way quickly along the road back to the town. She knew what she was feeling. She’d just forgotten what it could be like. It was love.
SEVENTEEN
David spotted Emma as soon as he walked out onto the deck. She was a lone figure in an empty square. The sight of her had made him happier than he could say. But he gave no sign that he saw her, and filled his guests’ glasses until the bottle ran dry. The music was too loud for his liking and he was sure the headache he had been nursing for the last hour was getting worse. All he wanted to do was walk across to Emma and take her into his arms, yet he suspected she would repulse his efforts and so kept up the act. He could not trust himself so he turned his back on her.
He was surrounded by youth and beauty. Boat people. He’d met most of them at sea. Mooring off the coast near a famous swimming spot was enough. Other large boats would drop anchor nearby and the tanned bodies would call across to him – offers for lunch, drinks and more – and when they discovered he was Australian, they would become his guides. He had lived largely on the yacht, though he kept a room at Club Med for those nights he needed to feel solid ground under his feet.
When David looked towards the square again Emma was gone. He knew where to find her. He knew she had left the painter’s house as he had visited Elena again. She had taken some placating but was eager to reconcile. He told her the truth: that he had used her. She screamed and yelled and he suffered her blows in silence, and she eventually forgave him. He gave her reason to. Many reasons. Then he had returned to Club Med and hired a car, driving into town to search for his wife. He found her swimming from the rocks in front of the old town and had followed her back to her pensione. He made enquires there, too. Italians loved to gossip and the doorman was no exception.
As he looked up the road leading back to town, trying to spot her, he smiled. He only wanted a sign that she still had feelings for him. Her appearance at the marina meant one thing. She’d been waiting for his boat to return to Otranto.
For the first two weeks after Emma walked out, David did as he had always done when things went against him. He worked. He arrived early at the office and stayed late. There was always more he could do. He was making inroads into China. He knew it wasn’t the time for letting his relationship troubles distract him from the big picture. He dug out the CDs he had bought that claimed to teach a person Chinese in two weeks and listened to them in the car. He was good with languages and already knew many of the phrases essential to doing business in China. But now that he was free to concentrate he felt sure he would be conversant in no time. He listened to them when he went jogging and at home while he was doing things like showering, dressing, cooking, sitting, standing, even sleeping. He hated wasting time. Besides, when he wasn’t practising phrases his mind always returned to what Emma had said to him in their last minutes together. He couldn’t bear that.
He told no one that his wife had left him. His pride had stifled any normal response he might have had. If Emma wanted to live without him, then that was fine by him. He would get on without her. He wasn’t going to try to change her mind. He wasn’t going to chase after her. She had done him wrong. She needed to come to him. He would remain where he was so that she could find him.
He wanted everything to stay as it was. The day Emma left he rang Sally to arrange a time for them to meet. Sally had told him to go to hell and hung up. He rang again. She told him she had lost the only true friend she’d ever had and that it was his fault and hung up. He rang again. She said she couldn’t believe he didn’t care that Emma had left and hung up. He rang again. She asked, ‘Do you want to ruin my marriage as well?’ and hung up. He rang again.
They met that afternoon at the Kirribilli apartment though he forbade her from speaking about Emma. He kept her there in the apartment until morning. He fucked her again and again. He was violent, rough, relentless. Sally couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She hadn’t been used like this since her teens. It was as though he was trying to erase Emma from his memory. But she didn’t ask him to stop. She wanted him to be with her, especially that night. When he left her on the bed to have a cigarette on the balcony she checked her phone. There were a million messages from her husband. She texted – I’ll be back in the morning – and turned the phone off. David lit another cigarette after the first and Sally fell asleep. He woke her roughly sometime later and it began again.
From that first night they would meet every afternoon for an hour. David would be his talkative, gregarious self, they would have sex and then they would go their separate ways. Sally kept telling herself that he would ask her to leave her husband and David swore to himself that he had all he wanted.
Then one afternoon, about two weeks after Emma walked out, Sally arrived early at the flat to find David already there. He was sitting in the lounge. It looked to Sally as though he had been crying, but she couldn’t be sure. There was a bottle of scotch on the coffee table. Unopened. And two glasses.
‘Sit,’ he said when he saw her.
Sally sat on the opposite sofa, nervous and excited. There was something in his eyes that frightened her – a desperation she had never seen in him. He suddenly seemed larger than he had ever been before. And she felt small, frail by comparison. He opened the scotch and poured a little into each glass, then pushed one glass towards her. She wasn’t sure if this was some sexual game – a prelude to something entirely new. He had been so brutal since Emma left. Rushed. No kisses. He was a different lover. Fast, hard and rough.
He continued to stare at her without speaking.
Sally found she was trembling. She imagined him leaping up, grabbing her and strangling her. Then she thought he might just snap her neck between his large hands.
‘What has happened?’ she heard herself ask, her voice sounding fragile.
‘I want you to talk about Emma,’ he said, asking the woman who loved him to talk about the woman he loved.
The relief Sally felt was so great that she did not feel the pain his words would cause her later.
‘Why?’
‘Be the good friend I didn’t have when I met her. Tell me not to have anything to do with her. Tell me she’s untrustworthy. Tell me she’s a liar.’
‘I don’t understand. She’s gone. She left. Why do we need to talk about her?’
‘Because I don’t want to think about her anymore, I want her out of my life. And if I know more about her, what she is really like, then maybe I can move on.’
‘I thought you were going to strangle me.’
‘I might still.’
‘How can you say that?’ she asked, her voice rising.
‘When I look at you–’ He broke off. He was going to say, ‘When I look at you I see what a poor bargain I have struck.’ But that was his anger speaking. He knew it.
‘When you look at me …?’
When he looked at her he wanted her, it was as plain as that. And giving in to that desire had lost him his wife. He stared at her now. The desire had not abated one bit. It had been growing ever stronger since she had parted her legs for him on the balcony of the beach house. It was stronger now than it had ever been. Raw, physical lust. He had thought to resist her today and his failure had made him angry. He would have to have her now. In this moment he wanted her above all other considerations. The hands. The neck. The eyes that watched him intently.
David stood up so suddenly Sally started and let out a little scream. In a moment he was on one knee, gripping her arms and staring into her eyes.
‘I can’t do it,’ he said, his voice strained. ‘I tried, but can’t. You’re too fucking gorgeous.’
He kissed her and she threw her arms around his neck. Her kiss was intense, hungry; her grip on him was manic. He stood up, tearing her arms from him, then lifted her off the sofa, spun her small body around and forced her down on her knees. He pushed her head down onto the seat of the sofa and held her there, holding her tightly with one large hand around her slende
r neck. She made no sound.
David moved the coffee table with his foot then knelt down beside her and lifted the hem of her dress. Her physical perfections worked upon him like an intoxicant. Her tan skin. Slender thighs and calves. They altered his thought processes. He lifted her dress up and over her rear, exposing her. She hadn’t worn knickers. She knew he liked to find her naked beneath her dresses and skirts. He stared at her. He ran his fingers lightly along the lips of her pussy. They were dry. He tightened his grip around her neck and pressed the tips of his fingers into her and found what he expected to find. Wetness spilled out. He rubbed it into and around her lips. She made no sound. Her pussy was shiny now in the afternoon light. He rubbed it all over her arse. He rubbed it into her lips. He traced a path to her arsehole. No sound came from Sally. His fingers were covered in her.
‘Do you want me to fuck you?’
Sally said nothing.
David slipped his fingers into her. They went in deep. He removed them slowly.
‘Do you want me to fuck you?’
Sally said nothing.
David pressed two fingers into her and the third into her arsehole. They went in slowly. Everything was messy and wet. He felt her clench her arsehole around him. He brought them out and pushed them back in. And again. His thumb found her clitoris. He fucked her slowly with his hand. Again and again. Slow, deliberate and deep. Her hips moved slightly. He changed nothing. Slow and deep. He was hard. He wanted to fuck her. He wasn’t thinking now. He would continue for hours if he must. He wanted to hear Sally moan. He wanted to make her come. She couldn’t stay silent. She would beg him to fuck her.
Slow and deep. He leant in closer. He kissed her arse. Time was passing. Slow and deep. He could feel her tensing. But she said nothing. Made no sound. Her hair covered her face. Slow and deep.
‘Do you want me to fuck you?’ he asked again. This time she could hear desperation in his tone. He needed her to say yes. He felt her trembling around his fingers. The trembling turned into a tremor. Still no sound escaped her lips. Her thighs moved. She was squeezing them together. David kept his slow rhythm. He would hear her moan before he would allow her to come. He would hear her beg him to fuck him. Slow and deep. Slow and deep.
But then it was too late. Sally bucked against his hand uncontrollably. She kept shaking and shaking. Hips shook, her thighs clenched and then she was still. She reached around and gripped David’s wrist and removed his fingers. She hadn’t made a sound.
Sally remained where she was. David let go of her neck and knelt beside her and stared at her arse. At that moment there was nothing more compelling but he was restraining himself. The urge to fuck her was great. His body shuddered. His hips were already anticipating the thrusts and were rising and falling ever so slightly. He was trying to make sense of the moment.
All was desire. He lifted his hand and caressed Sally’s thigh. He was hungry for her flesh. He ran his hand up her thigh and cupped her pussy. It was warm and wet. He undid his fly and released his cock, stroked it while he played with her.
‘You’re going to go looking for Emma,’ said Sally, suddenly.
David didn’t say anything. He moved around behind her.
‘You blame me. That’s why you’re angry with me,’ she said.
He entered her and she let out a deep moan. He pushed in deep and held himself there.
‘I don’t want you to go,’ she said, her voice was shaking.
He began to fuck her, slowly to begin with, her breathing growing louder with each thrust, then faster, her shorts breaths turning into moans.
‘I’ll tell you about her,’ she gasped.
He thrust deeper and harder.
‘Everything,’ she breathed.
That ‘everything’ was laden with images of debauchery. He pictured both women naked, entwined amidst a sea of limbs. He gripped her hips and came loudly. It was short and sharp.
David lay back on the carpet.
Sally turned around quickly, undid his pants and yanked them down the best she could. She straddled his hips and rubbed her pussy up and down the wilting length of his cock. David closed his eyes. The sensation of her soft wet pussy on him was gorgeous. He opened his eyes and looked up at her as she was stripping off her dress. She was a divine creature.
She had been right, too. He had come to say goodbye. He was going to find Emma. He hadn’t known this himself, however. Not until she’d said it. But she was wrong on one point, he didn’t blame her.
She lifted his semi-hard cock and lowered herself onto it.
‘I miss Emma, too,’ Sally said. ‘She was my lover first.’
They were waiting for the lift to take them down to the car park. Normality had descended upon them. David was immaculate in his suit and Sally looked every bit the Mosman socialite. The hallway they were standing in was newly wallpapered. New carpet had been put down. It was part of a general upgrade of the building. David was telling Sally the story as he knew the building’s owner. The lift was the one thing that remained untouched, which had angered the residents. It was notoriously slow.
All of a sudden, leaving the dull story of the build upgrade unfinished, David asked, ‘Were there any other men in her life when I started to date her?’
Sally looked up and across at him. They had fucked for two hours. She had thought the subject of Emma had been put to rest. David had been tender and loving towards the end and had talked about trying to find a date when they could spend the whole night together.
‘Not that I can remember. Emma always had lovers. I didn’t know them all. Men she would visit. Friends she would fuck. She was always fucking someone.’
‘You can’t think of any names?’
Sally shook her head. ‘I’d only meet them once or twice, if that. They were just good-looking men who didn’t pay attention to me because they were besotted with her.’
The lift arrived and they stepped in.
‘What about Paul?’
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I need to know.’
‘She’s gone. Okay? I’m here. I’m yours. I know she was your wife. I know you loved her. I loved her, too. But it’s over. When Emma makes up her mind, it stays made up.’
‘I know.’
‘Am I such a poor second?’ she asked, her forced smile revealing her anxiety.
He didn’t say anything but drew her to him and kissed her.
‘You are exquisite. Now, tell me what you know about Paul and Emma,’ he said, with the smile he used in business meetings to soften the blow.
‘Why? Were they lovers?’
‘You tell me.’
‘They could have been. I don’t know. She never spoke of him that way. He was always around, but I don’t remember them ever being together.’
‘He was the one who told Emma about us and about this flat.’
‘How do you know?’
David smiled again.
‘You told him?’ she asked, truly surprised he could have been so careless with her marriage.
‘I needed to tell someone.’
‘I can’t believe you did that!’ she said, hitting his chest with her open palm. ‘But that explains the strange kiss he gave me.’
‘He kissed you?’
‘Yes, on the lips. The night before Emma left. He’d never liked me, so I was surprised. It was a strange kiss, too. He kissed me like he felt he had a right to kiss me. I suppose he was saying he knew I was a whore.’
‘No, he doesn’t think like that. No woman is a whore to Paul, even whores aren’t whores to him. I’ve known him all my life, he’s a strange man. Don’t try and make sense of what he does.’
‘But I am. If I’m not a whore, then I’m a bitch – and you’re a lying bastard.’
‘And so are they then. They left Sydney together.’
‘Paul and Emma? How do you know that?’
The lift doors opened and they walked across to their cars.
‘I don’t. That’s what
I believe. I thought she would go to her parents’ place but they told me she flew to Europe. That’s all they’d tell me. And I asked around and Paul left Sydney in a hurry, too. I think they organised it when Paul came over, the night he kissed you.’
Sally unlocked her car and opened the door. She turned around to face David.
‘You can’t possibly think Emma planned leaving home with nothing more than a passport and the clothes she wore? She had no money. She had to borrow underwear from me. And she took my favourite pair of jeans. When she came to my house she was completely shell-shocked. I’ve never seen her like that before.’
David looked down at his shoes. ‘They were lovers, I’m sure of it.’
‘If she left with Paul it was because he was willing to drop everything for her and go, that’s all.’
Sally sat in the driver’s seat and David closed the door. The window came down.
‘I’ll see if I can get away for a few nights next week. I’ll tell him I’m going to a retreat with the girls. There’s one in the Blue Mountains a friend was telling me about.’
David nodded and Sally started the car. He leaned in and kissed her, then she drove off.
He stood there and didn’t move. He was more confused than ever. He was thinking about something Emma had said to him the last time they spoke:
‘I want you to have what you want. I want you to help you get what you want but to do that you have to be my partner. We have to have no secrets. You have a lover. A mistress. How does that make you feel?’
The Secret Lives of Emma: Unmasked Page 12
