Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

by Eva Mazza

  Jen was silent.

  “Jen, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know, Frankie.”

  “I do. You’ll be waiting for the scraps John and his indecently hot young bride decide to toss your way.”

  In the past, Jen had wondered why Frankie was so committed to staying married, despite the affair she had confessed to having. Frankie was a realist. She had a great lifestyle. “Lee gives me everything I want, except good sex,” she’d once told Jen. “At this stage, average sex is a minor detail compared to the bigger picture. I holiday overseas, I stay in the best hotels, I drive a great car and I never have the stress of work or finances. Lee is one of the most successful and powerful men in South Africa and people respect me by association. They know I’m nobody from a small town in Bum Fuck Wherever. They’re prepared to overlook this only because I’m married to Lee. I’m not stupid enough to give it all up for multiple orgasms? The right marriage, my darling Jen, brings respectability, no matter your past.” She had chuckled wickedly, “And you know I have a terrible past.”

  Frankie’s voice interrupted Jen’s thoughts.

  “Jen? Are you still there?”

  Jen was still sobbing.

  “Pull yourself together. Fix this.”

  “I don’t want to be like my mum.” Jen’s mother had lived all her life with an adulterous husband, her dad. His affair had been common knowledge in Stellenbosch. Her mom had chosen to overlook the fact that she had a duplicitous spouse. Their marriage had been loveless. She didn’t want this. She had said as much to John. He knew her terms and he had broken them.

  “I have told you this before, Jen. You may see it as weak, but the way I see it, your mother didn’t make the ‘other woman’ an honest woman. She would’ve if she’d divorced your dad. That woman would always remain a slut as long as your parents stayed married.”

  Jen interrupted her. “But at what cost, Frankie? Surely morals come into play at some point? And what about principles? They have to count for something.”

  “Morals and principles! Please! Your mum upheld a standing in the community and, by remaining married, she chose to maintain the lifestyle that both of you deserved.”

  Another image of John flashed in front of her, his head tilted upwards, legs splayed open. Patty’s head between his thighs.

  “The only mistake your mom made was not finding herself a lover. But who knows, maybe she was a lot more discreet than your father was.”

  Seven

  John stood at the tasting room door and watched Patty as she walked away. He didn’t know who to stress about more, Jen or her. She had climbed into her Toyota Yaris, the company car the business had bought as part of her package. He watched her drive down the farm’s dirt road (as always, she drove slowly to avoid killing any animals should they cross her path). She turned left towards the main gate on the R45 and then she was out of sight.

  What just happened? He so wanted to see if Jen was okay, but he needed to process the disturbing exchange he’d just had with Patty. If he didn’t know any better… Had he been set up? It certainly seemed like it. Fuck!

  He hadn’t forgotten his friends’ reservations on hearing that Patty had been poached by him. They hadn’t been happy, and they told him as much. “She knows things about us,” Larry had said. Besides her having a wealth of information that could be used against them, exposing this ‘gentlemen’s’ club (which probably had links to Cape Town’s underworld) could result in all sorts of… Or was he just being paranoid?

  Poker night had started off as a legitimate monthly card game; it was Frans who’d turned it into ‘poke-her’ night. He’d been going to a gentlemen’s club in the city for quite some time. It was he who had suggested that they spice up their regular boys’ night, assuring everyone that it was discreet and upmarket – at a price, of course. They were wealthy enough to buy discretion and they were all keen to bring some excitement into their lives. Being in a group somehow made it more acceptable, should their wives ever find out.

  So, poke-her night it became. It was, as most of these clubs were, at an undisclosed address in Cape Town. John didn’t know how Frans got wind of the club and he didn’t really care. It was a consolation that it wasn’t one of those run-of-the-mill strip joints that every asshole went to. The club was at the top of an office block in the centre of the city and each time they went, they were given a different password to gain entry. The building housed a well-known finance company, the owner being one of the members of the inner circle of Stellenbosch. The lift had ‘Penthouse’ marked on it, but a key was necessary to gain access to that floor. That key and the password were given to clients by the security guard on the ground floor in exchange for a very generous tip.

  The lift doors opened to a fountain at the centre of a glassed-in entrance exhibiting a spectacular view of Cape Town’s skyline and its dazzling nightlights. It was a breathtaking backdrop, and when John’s group first saw it they were relieved that their lavish surroundings diminished the potential sleaze that other adult clubs elicited. The interior was decorated with mirrors and chandeliers. The upholstery was black velvet and leather, which, set against the glass and chrome, created a modern and masculine feel.

  The women, porn-star sexy, had been carefully chosen to enhance the décor and to titillate. Mirrored tables offered lines of ready-cut coke for an extra fee. John never did the drugs. There was no way he wanted to lose control. He needed to ensure that he wasn’t going to land up in a compromising position in front of his friends. He was there for the fun; always careful to keep his shit together, as tempting as all this was. It seemed Lee felt the same.

  The others were different. They behaved like caged animals let loose; wilfully blind to the fact that the girls who were propositioning them were just doing their job. On that first night, most of them had blown at least twenty thousand on drugs, drink and hardcore sex.

  After that, they – except for Lecherous Larry – had learned to exercise some restraint and stuck mostly to the poke-her game: strip poker, where each man was partnered with one of the girls. If someone lost, his partner had to shed a piece of clothing. By the end, most of the girls were half naked. The winner could choose to keep his winnings or hand them over to the club in exchange for ‘time out’ with his partner.

  John and Lee had always liked winning, and if they did, they kept their windfall. John would quash any guilt he felt about these illicit poker nights by handing his winnings over to an elated Jen.

  The woman at the front had commented on this one night. “You’re the only guy I know who lands up going home with money.” She gave him his wad of cash.

  “And you’re the only girl I know who’s fully clothed in here,” he said as he counted it.

  “Those are the conditions of my employment,” she’d smiled.

  “Well, how much do you charge to remove them?” He flashed the wad of cash at her. She could probably smell whisky on his breath. He had had too much to drink, that’s for sure. But there was something about her that he was prepared to pay to see.

  Her smile faded fast. “That’s not what I do, Mr Pearce,” she said, her voice cold and assertive. “Thank you for your patronage this evening. I’m told your shuttle has arrived. Have a safe trip home.”

  Though she’d shut him down that night, as the months went by John learned his boundaries with her and they chatted more frequently. She told him her name was Patty.

  “How does a nice girl like you end up in a place like this?” he’d once asked her playfully.

  “I can ask you the same question, Mr Pearce. How does a nice guy like you land up here?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he’d laughed. “I’m a bored old man out with my mates looking for some fun. And you? Well? You must have an interesting story.”

  It was more desperate than interesting. Patty had been through a nasty divorce. She’d walked out with nothing. A small price to pay for her freedom. Desperate for work, she was told about a job that
had become available that was strictly off the record. An exclusive gentlemen’s club needed a woman who was a little older, attractive and who wasn’t interested in sex for money. Patty’s terms of employment were strictly no sex with the club’s patrons, clean habits and a huge amount of discretion.

  “There’s not much out there for a sales rep who hasn’t worked in five years. This was the best I could find, and I’m grateful,” she’d told him.

  That was how Patty had come to work for John. And since then, she’d spent months avoiding her employer’s sexual advances. And last night she had finally succumbed to him. My dream has morphed into a fucking nightmare! he thought.

  John was now, more than ever, determined to find Jen. He had to placate her. Patty was bad enough; he didn’t need to add a scorned, vengeful wife into the equation. He began to run across the lawn to their farmhouse. I hope to fuck she’s managed to hold it together; that she hasn’t phoned her book club cronies and spilled her guts to them. Stellenbosch loved a scandal. Worst of all, his children would be privy to the most embarrassing details about their father. He’d always managed to be discreet about his transgressions. Until now.

  Jen didn’t hear John come in. After showering, she lay on their bed in a towelling gown, hair dripping, her eyes swollen from crying.

  John walked in a little while later, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. She knew he had showered in the spare bathroom.

  “You at least had the decency to scrub Patty off you.” She looked past him as he sat on the side of the bed and gently rested his hand on hers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen. I was pissed, and she came on to me. You weren’t around. Jen, she put her hand on…”

  Jen’s sudden reaction startled him.

  “Please, John, I don’t want to hear it! What I saw was bad enough. I don’t need you to give me a blow-by-blow account of the event.” With a smirk that looked more like a pained grimace, she added, “No pun intended.”

  She could see that John was hurting for her. This gave her hope, especially when he said, “I know. Maybe nearing sixty is weighing on me more than I thought. I felt wanted, Jen. You haven’t really wanted me like that for a long time.”

  He began to cry. Jen couldn’t believe what was happening. He had tried to stop himself, but he had failed. His vulnerability made her heart spill over with love for her cheating husband and she wrapped her arms around him.

  “I was such a shit to you, John. My speech was out of line.” She kissed him softly on his forehead. “And you’re right. I haven’t been a very good wife, have I?”

  “No, you haven’t, Jen. If I have to be honest, you’ve been distant. Even so, that was a shitty thing I did last night. Can I try make it up to you?” They held hands, both deep in thought.

  “Who, besides Frankie, saw you with Patty?” Jen asked.

  “I don’t think anyone saw me with her. Everyone had left. Why? Do you think Frankie saw something?”

  “Frankie texted me about you two. Look.” She showed John her phone messages.

  John scrolled through them.

  “Damn it! Well, text her back. Tell her everything is fine.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have phoned Frankie. But she is my best friend. She had felt all alone. “I told her!” She watched John’s face contort. She tried to placate him. “I was distraught. I needed somebody to share this with, John. She’s my best friend and she was looking out for me.”

  He clenched his jaw. “Really, Jen? Frankie will tell everyone. Word will get out. And our kids? Do you want them to hear about this?” Jen didn’t answer. “What were you thinking?”

  He had gone too far. Hit a nerve. She jumped up, tossed her gown aside, put on her bra and panties, and threw on a dress and sandals. “As much as I take some responsibility, I think it’s safe to ask you what you were thinking? You compromised your reputation and your image with the children. I caught the two of you together. I saw you! Do you have any idea what that was like for me, John?”

  John’s tone softened. He got up and walked towards her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, Jen. But Frankie!” He tried to touch her, but she brushed him off.

  “Frankie’s my friend. She saw the two of you and she tried to warn me.” She paused before adding, “Who knows who else saw you. Damn it, John! And what else you’ve been up to.” She grabbed her bag.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. “It’s my birthday. Brig and Pete are coming for lunch, remember?”

  “As you said last night, I have no place to go.”

  “Come on, Jen, I was joking. Can’t you take a joke?”

  Resolute, she straightened up and looked him in the eyes. “Not when I’m the butt of your jokes, John. No, I can’t.”

  He rubbed his hair, as she knew too well, when he felt stressed. She wanted to relent. He looked so helpless. But this wasn’t one of their normal fights. She had seen him with another woman. He had broken her trust. And her heart.

  “I really need to think right now. Away from you. Away from the kids.”

  “Come on, Jen. Baby, don’t go. Please.” Her laugh was pained.

  “You called Patty ‘baby’ too. Do you say that to all the girls you fuck?” Jen hardly swore. It jarred when she did, and her husband’s head jerked back slightly. Anyway, she liked the idea of getting away. The irony of actually finding somewhere else to go pleased her.

  “I reckon after what I’ve just been through, I deserve to be massaged and pampered. I’m going to check in to a lodge at Delaire Graff.” John knew what that was going to cost. “Yes, John, the unaffordable one I’ve been dropping hints about. I’m going to use your credit card because I reckon I deserve this indulgence.”

  She knew this time he had no choice. “Okay, ba, um… Jen… and the kids?”

  “What about the kids?” She was defiant.

  “What do I tell them?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”

  Eight

  John lay on the bed, towel still wrapped around his waist, legs dangling off the edge. His phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Brigit. He pressed the silence button. John couldn’t talk to her now. He was feeling too emotional.

  He heard Jen slam the door of her ML, a car that most of her girlfriends drove; except Frankie, who drove a Porsche Cayenne. Lee always wanted to be one up on everyone, and he had been, even at school. John squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the clutch grind into reverse. He inhaled deeply. The tyres screeched before she drove away.

  He remained on the bed for what felt like a long time. His phone rang again. This time he had to answer. It was Jen.

  “Yes, my love,” he said gently.

  “Your wine rep just called me! Has she no shame?”

  Fuck! He knew it.

  “Are you there, John?”

  “What did she say?” He sat up.

  “I didn’t answer. I have nothing to say to that slut.”

  Thank God! he thought, lying back down.

  “I want you to call her. Tell her to leave me the fuck alone. Do you hear me? She must leave me the fuck alone!” Jen sounded hysterical.

  “I’ll phone her.” Damn right, he would. The fucking bitch.

  “And while you’re at it, fire her, John. I don’t want to see her ever again.”

  John couldn’t fire her. Not right now. She’d already alluded to sexual harassment. He’d be up for unfair dismissal. The only sensible thing to do was to wait this one out. His mind raced. She’d threatened to tell about the club. He was certain she’d act on it.

  “I can’t fire her, Jen.”

  “You can’t, or you won’t?”

  “Jen, Patty could sue me for unfair dismissal. She could also turn this thing around and label it sexual harassment.”

  “Well, John, pity you didn’t think about that before she had you in her mouth.” Jen’s tone changed. It was threatening and resolute; a tone John had seldom, if ever, h
eard her use. “It’s either her or me. And if you don’t fire Patty, things are going to get really messy in Stellenbosch. Another golden boy’s reputation sullied. I can just see the headlines.”

  “Don’t do anything impulsive, Jen. Please. I made a mistake.” He heard her scoff at ‘mistake’. “Fuck, Jen please just give this time to settle. At least give some thought to our kids.” Hopefully they would make her think more rationally. “I love you, Jen. Believe me, if anyone’s sorry, it’s me.”

  He looked at his phone. She had dropped the call.

  John wiped his sweaty palms on his towel. How was he going to get rid of Patty? The only way she would leave was if he offered her a cash settlement; a very hefty one, one that would make her disappear with her jaw all but wired shut.

  He didn’t hesitate. He was exhausted after a thoroughly shit end to his party, but somehow his anger had given him a second wind. He dialled Patty’s number.

  “John?” Patty said, as if she had been waiting for his call.

  “Listen, Patty, I’ll cut straight to the chase. Don’t contact my wife again. She’s gone through enough shit without you harassing her!”

  “Hello, John.”

  She sounded a lot calmer than he was. “I called her to apologise.”

  In fact, he thought she sounded amused. This irritated him even more. He had no time for games.

  “Do you think sorry’s going to fix things? You’ve made it worse.”

  A WhatsApp message beeped in his ear. He read it before it disappeared from his screen.“You ok? Trying to reach you. Can’t face lunch or Mom. Do you mind if I bail?” Another potential fire he’d have to put out. An ongoing battle of wills. It was easier not having to explain Jen’s absence; he’d use Brig as an excuse to cancel lunch with Pete.

  “Of course sorry won’t fix it,” Patty said. “I wanted to explain what happened. How drunk you made me.”

  John stopped her. “Like you had no choice. Don’t you fucking accuse me.” He stopped. Time to shift the focus of the conversation to Jen. “Jen told me to tell you to leave her the fuck alone. Her words. If Jen swears, you know she’s really pissed off.” He paused. His voice became softer, more controlled, as if he were reasoning with a child.