Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

by Eva Mazza

  “Patty, I can’t let things get messy. I don’t want to hurt my children and, believe it or not, I value my marriage. Patty? Are you still there?”

  “Well, seems a bit late for that, doesn’t it, Mr Pearce?” she laughed.

  John held his temper. “Look, I’m gonna need you to leave. You’re brilliant at your job, Patty and this will have a huge effect on sales, but Jen’s demanding I fire you.”

  “I can’t just quit my job, John. Where would I go? You said it yourself. While we’re on the subject of ‘values’, I value the money.” Was there panic in her voice?

  It seemed to John that he was at least moving towards having a reasonable discussion with her. He could hear her inhale deeply and imagined her tits rising. She was calm when she said, “Look, I also feel uncomfortable working with you after what happened last night.”

  Maybe this was easier than he had anticipated. “I agree. Then you’ll go?” He sat up smoothing out his hair.

  “Not so fast. Not without a settlement.”

  “Okay, fair enough.” John wanted this done and dusted as soon as possible. He wanted to concentrate on fixing his marriage, and getting Patty out the way was a huge start. “Three months’ salary and I’m prepared to pay you the average commission you earned over this period last year.”

  Patty laughed. “Oh, John, do you honestly think I’m going to go away for that measly amount? You do realise just how messy things can get?”

  John’s bath towel loosened as he got off the bed. He readjusted it firmly around his hips, determined not to pander to her. “Well, going to a gentlemen’s club isn’t such an unusual thing, Patty. I’ll admit to it. Granted, it’s going to be a rough few weeks, what with my friends and their wives, but I didn’t do anything bad. I did what all boys do.”

  “If the threat of exposing you doesn’t frighten you enough, I’ll carry on working for you. I have a very thick skin. How your wife will react to me still being around, a constant reminder of your lust, is really your problem.”

  “Don’t. Please, Patty.”

  Patty’s tone hardened. “How will she cope, I wonder, with the scandal?” She laughed loudly at the thought. This only incensed John. “Like I said before, I’ll have to tell her how you’ve sexually harassed me at work. I wonder if Pete will attest to this? There seems to be no love lost between you two. And a heads up, I think he’s on to you by the way. And I’ll sue you, John, and you’ll have to pay me for unfair dismissal and sexual harassment.”

  John sat down hard at the edge of the bed. The bitch had him by the short and curlies. He tried to appeal to her softer side. She was, after all, a woman. “Patty, don’t you give a shit about Jen? Think about her. She’s been a friend to you. If anybody doesn’t deserve this, it’s her.”

  “Do I deserve to be given the short end of the stick, huh, John? The truth may hurt Jen, but a little bit of a wake-up call might save her from complete humiliation and make her stronger. And you? Well, you may learn to stick to your marriage vows and to take stock of those ‘values’ you were telling me about.” Again, she laughed mockingly. “Although, it’s highly unlikely.

  “No, John, I’m saving myself from you, and if by chance your happy marriage is forfeited, I view it as reparation.”

  His whole body shook. “Name your fucking price! This was premeditated wasn’t it? You’re a fucking whore.”

  She ignored him. “I’ll have to think about how much; it has to be worth my while.”

  “Don’t call me until you have a figure.” John threw his phone on the bed before slamming his way into the bathroom to wash his face, brush his teeth, anything just to cool down. The mirror reflected dark rings under his eyes. It was clear he needed sleep.

  He heard the phone ring. “Jesuuuuus!” he cussed aloud as he walked back into the bedroom. It was Brigit.

  “Brigit, I’m sorry, love, I was on another call. No, Brig, don’t speak about Mom like that, please. She’s your mother.”

  There was a rustle behind him. He jumped on seeing a shadow at the door. Frankie. How long had she been standing there?

  “I can’t talk to you now, Brigit. Frankie’s come to visit.” His phone fell as he tried to stop Frankie from lunging towards him.

  Nine

  The spa was an outrageously expensive retreat for the locals. Jen’s lifestyle was above average and, although the price of a stay in the lodge included treatments, it cost much more than even she had anticipated. She had nowhere else to go. This is becoming my mantra! She gave the young lady John’s platinum credit card and hoped the amount would go through. It didn’t.

  “Try budget,” Jen suggested, not flinching; nothing could make her flinch anymore.

  “Six or twelve months, Mrs Pearce,” she politely enquired.

  “Let’s try six.”

  It was accepted. The receptionist launched into her welcome: “Welcome to our lodges and spa, Mrs Pearce. Please help yourself to a glass of Moët on your way to the golf cart. Gerard, your butler, will drive you to your lodge. It has a private pool.” Jen turned to a young man who bowed his head slightly. “However, if you’re feeling sociable, you can use the spa’s pool. If you’d prefer to relax at the lodge, Gerard will see to all your needs. Kindly ensure that you fill out the form letting us know what treatments you would like and what times would suit you. We can’t guarantee the exact time, but every effort will be made to accommodate you.”

  Jen was about to follow Gerard when the receptionist stopped her. Her tone was less formal. “Mrs Pearce, could I suggest that you lunch in our restaurant this afternoon? Being in the lodge has its advantages, but you’ll have the whole night to retreat. It has a spectacular view and the food is out of this world. There’s limited space. Can I book a table for you?”

  “I’m not feeling hungry right now. Anyway, it’s quite late in the afternoon and I’d like to relax a little before I do anything culinary. How about an early supper? Could you book me in for an early supper?” The receptionist smiled at her. Jen guessed she was the same age as Brig.

  “Of course. Perhaps you can have an evening treatment. Say an hour after dinner? I can arrange for it in your lodge. Then you can fall into bed.”

  “That sounds fabulous, thank you, erm…?”

  “We share the same name, except I’ve kept the extra n and y,” Jenny laughed.

  “Well, thank you, Jenny, it seems as if this is going to be just what the doctor ordered.” She grabbed her glass of bubbly on the way out and downed it. Gerard poured her another before driving her through the manicured gardens. The lawns were so lush it was obvious they were watered at least twice a day. Parts of Stellenbosch belied the fact that the Western Cape was experiencing the worst drought in centuries.

  Her lodge looked much the same as the others she had passed: a stone and brick structure with huge windows and sliding shutters operated by a switch from inside, as demonstrated by Gerard. The swimming pool was heated slightly. The fridge was not yet stocked as Jen was required to order her drinks.

  No expense had been spared. Jen’s inner interior designer revelled in the styling. Bespoke pieces were carefully and cleverly placed in the lounge, creating an eclectic mix of modern and antique, with the emphasis on luxurious comfort. Instead of colour, the designer had used texture in the soft furnishing, the different fabrics lessened the potential for the creams and whites to create a cold and uninviting space. On one wall stood a bookshelf that held a variety of reading materials. Current magazines were decoratively arranged on the coffee table. Televisions were hidden behind panels in both the bedroom and the lounge, visible only at the flick of a switch. Oh, a designer’s dream to have landed a contract like this!

  “Let’s hope there are no power cuts,” Jen joked with Gerard.

  “Not to worry, Mrs Pearce, we do have generators,” he said, as if these were as important as the bomb shelters in World War II.

  Gerard showed her to her room, easing up a bit as he explained that it was his first day at
work and that she was his first client. The bedroom was the haven Jen had hoped for. In the centre was a four-poster bed: minimalist and not loaded with decorative detail or fabric. The white-on-white dots on the percale sheets gave the room a fanciful and fun feel; the towels picked up the dotted theme in the luxurious bathroom.

  “I hope you have a relaxed and enjoyable stay,” her butler recited as he took the forms for her drinks and treatments. “Your phone dials me direct, so I’m literally a call away.”

  Jen walked towards the open sliding door in the lounge and breathed in the fresh mountain air, taking in the spectacular view and the vineyards in the valley below. As she finished her second glass of champagne, the lodge phone rang.

  “Mrs Pearce, this is Jenny at reception. I’ve made a reservation for an early dinner at six this evening. The later sitting is fully booked.”

  She wasn’t hungry, despite not having eaten anything. “Perfect,” she said, just in case her appetite returned. Then she remembered. “Um, Jenny, I don’t have clothes! My booking was an impulsive one. I saw a little boutique when I came in.”

  “No worries, Mrs Pearce. If you’ll give me your size, I’ll ask them to select a few items and send them up to your lodge with Gerard. You can choose what suits you. Do you have a swimming costume?”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t have underwear either!” she laughed, trying to hide her embarrassment. “And I don’t have a toothbrush. I have nothing with me except a bit of make-up.”

  “Not to worry, I’m sure the boutique stocks costumes and I know they have the most exquisite range of lace underwear. Let me see what the owner and I can arrange.” Jen felt relieved. Nothing was too much for this establishment and the thought of having to recycle her clothes was one less thing to worry about.

  She sat at the edge of the bed overcome by exhaustion. She organised her pillows so that she could take in the view of the majestic Jonkershoek mountain range in front of her. Then she lay down, processing nothing. The night’s events had worn her out, and this was the first time she allowed herself to relax completely. Her body clearly responded, and soon she fell into a wonderful, heavy and drool-inducing sleep.

  She woke up at five feeling disorientated and switched on her phone to check for messages. The first was from Frankie: “R u ok? Was there room in the inn? (winking emoji)”. Her message had come through at twelve that afternoon. Jen replied that she had checked in and that she was fine. The next one was from John: “How much money do u think I earn?!? I see I’m paying dearly for my sin.” Jen noticed that the word ‘sin’ was in the singular. Her lip curled into a half smile. The clever bastard. The last one was from Patty: “Jen, I just wanted to say how sorry I am. My only excuse is that I was plastered. Hope you can forgive me one day.”

  Jen threw the phone on the bed just as Gerard arrived at the door to collect her for supper. The last thing she felt like. She wanted to throw up. She ran into the bathroom and lifted the toilet seat and hurled. Only bile came up. She heaved again.

  Gerard was calling from the lounge. “Mrs Pearce, I hope it’s all right if I let myself in. I’ve been knocking for quite some time. Are you okay?” Jen didn’t answer. He called out politely, “If you’re not ready, I’m sure I can come and collect you later.” He had waited for an answer and when it was not forthcoming, he continued, “I did leave some clothes in the lounge for you to try on. Oh, and Jenny said to leave a complimentary toiletries bag for you.”

  Poor guy. He got the worst client for his first day!

  She rinsed her mouth in the basin and called back. “Thanks, Gerard, I’ve just woken up. Please come back later.”

  She chose a pair of silk black palazzo pants and a black and white cotton top. She managed to tie her bob back neatly into a short ponytail. She applied some mascara and eyeliner and smoothed a little gloss over her lips, grabbed her bag and closed the door behind her. She would walk to the restaurant, she decided.

  The walk was longer than anticipated, but Jen was fit, and the fresh mountain air helped clear her mind. When she arrived, the maître d’ was extremely apologetic, as it was the restaurant’s second sitting for the evening and, unfortunately, Jen had lost her table.

  “Not to worry,” Jen said. “I’ll order room service.”

  “You’re more than welcome to join me at my table. I’m alone, and I wouldn’t mind the company. I always feel awkward when I eat by myself in a restaurant.”

  Jen turned around; she wasn’t sure if the person was speaking to her or to someone else. A tall woman – very understated but beautiful in jeans, a t-shirt and Tod’s on her feet – was waiting for an answer. Jen was starving, and the woman seemed nice enough.

  “Thank you. I’m going to take you up on the offer.”

  They were seated opposite one another at a table near the window from where they could see the sun finally setting behind the mountain, giving the sky a salmon-pink hue. It was a spectacular end to a very rough day, and Jen marvelled at the fact that she could appreciate such beauty when she felt such emptiness. Her dinner date snapped a pic using her mobile. When she was done, she shook Jen’s hand. “I’m Claudia,” she said. “That sunset was such a photo opportunity. I always tend to miss these moments.”

  Jen responded politely, “It is magnificent! I’m Jen by the way.”

  A moment’s awkwardness, then, “What is it that you do, Jen?”

  “I’m a housewife. I have two grown-up children, so it seems I’m going to need to find a job.”

  Claudia laughed. “Nonsense. Just retire.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to. I don’t have much work experience. What do you do?”

  “I’m a psychologist.”

  What are the odds that I’d be seated opposite a psychologist? “Well, I’ll remember to steer clear of all my ‘issues’,” she said, laughing. “I’m sure that’s why you’re here: to unwind?”

  “Partly true,” Claudia conceded. “I have just testified in a child abuse case. I deal with children, so my work is depressing and very draining. This one was depleting. But, trial or no trial, it’s my once-a-year treat to myself. And you, Jen, what brought you here?” Her eyes fixed on Jen. Jen felt that if she looked at her any longer, she would uncover the truth.

  She swallowed, supressing any emotion that dared to reveal itself to this stranger.

  “It was an impulsive decision. I needed to get away, so I climbed into my car and, well, here I am. I’ve always wanted to come here but it’s rather extravagant. But to hell with that, I deserve to be pampered after what I’ve just been through.” She babbled on, trying too hard to sound upbeat. “I even had to buy new clothes at a premium price from the spa’s boutique. I didn’t pack as much as a toothbrush!” she said, making light of her very urgent desire to get as far away from John as possible.

  “Well, you weren’t joking when you said ‘impulsive’!” Claudia said. “Actually, I was admiring the way you looked. I may just go and buy myself the same top, seeing that we don’t know each other. I solemnly promise I won’t wear it here.”

  Jen laughed. “Well, I’m flattered. Nobody’s wanted to copy my style for a very long time.”

  Claudia tilted her head sideways. “I think you’re exaggerating. Unless this is the only wardrobe upgrade you’ve had since the eighties.”

  Jen pictured herself trapped in the eighties with leg warmers and a perm. The thought made her smile. Then again, there had been those gold leggings.

  “No, not exactly; although my daughter may believe this to be true. I don’t know if you have children, but girls, it seems, stop thinking that their mothers are cool around about puberty. Mine thought I was embarrassing from birth, maybe even conception. My attempts at being cool…”

  The waiter interrupted to take their food order.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t looked at our menus yet,” Jen said, amazed at the ease with which the conversation flowed. “Give us another five minutes, please.”

  The two women studied the menu.
Jen decided on the fillet steak accompanied by a garden salad and baby potatoes, and a side order of mushrooms.

  Claudia ordered the same. “Only please see that my fillet is medium. No rare bits.”

  After their wine was poured, and after they had toasted to “recharged batteries”, Claudia said softly, “You said that you needed to get away from home. You don’t have to tell me why, but it would be very rude of me not to ask.” She paused then said, “I’m not asking to be polite either. It may help to talk. I’m a stranger. It may make talking that much easier.”

  Jen sighed. “Do you really want to know that I caught my husband with another woman early this morning?” She could see Claudia’s eyebrow lift. “I’m not sure if I’m angry with him, that woman or myself.”

  Claudia leaned towards her. “Why would you be to blame?”

  Jen swirled her wine around in her glass, took a sip and swallowed before answering.

  “It makes me think. Maybe I haven’t been the model wife. Maybe I’m boring and I’ve let a lot go.”

  Claudia wasn’t letting anything go. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve just resigned myself to the fact that I’m getting old. I sure as hell don’t feel sexy or interesting, or needed for that matter, so why should anyone else feel that way about me, especially my husband?”

  Claudia smiled at her. Jen liked her smile. It was warm.

  “So, what do you do for ‘me time and we time’?” she asked.

  “Well, my friends and I do book club once a month and we’ve recently started Zumba class, which is fun. I don’t really do anything for myself. I regard it as a little self-indulgent.”

  Claudia smiled. “Ah, thank you. You’ve answered my question. Do you think ‘me time’ is selfish? Yes, you do. Do you think that being selfish is a bad trait? You definitely do. You haven’t even mentioned ‘we time’, so can I just assume that your husband and you don’t do much together as a couple?”