“Why poor Andy?”
“He heard about your date and looked so sad, poor thing. Think he’s got a crush.”
“Really? Well, this thing with Ethan won’t last. I’ll have to show him a bit of encouragement.” Liz liked Andy – he was cute, her age, very funny. Always a bit unkempt, but she liked that. ‘Wow,’ she thought, ‘You wait months for a date…’
Clearly not concerned by the so-called ‘three-day rule’, Ethan called Liz that same afternoon. She had to go out and talk in the corridor because the whole office was trying to listen in to her conversation. They arranged to go out on the following Saturday. They went out the next Tuesday, too, and the Friday after that. All three dates were as the first. He was like a model boyfriend: respectful, funny, flirty but never crude, entertaining, generous, handsome. Liz noted the way several waitresses looked at him, but he never seemed to notice them. His attention was always on her.
It was on the Friday that he finally invited her back to his flat. They had a nightcap and then he led her to the bedroom. She was relieved as much as anything. On their previous date she had been forced to take matters into her own hands and invite him back to hers, but he had politely declined. Their goodnight kisses had got longer and more passionate with each date, mind you, but, still, Liz was not in this for the long haul. As much as she enjoyed the romance she did want to get him between the sheets.
As with the dates, her expectations of the sex were completely blown away by the reality. She had anticipated a wild ride, sweaty bodies, something fevered and frantic and passionate and probably a little rough. Yet Ethan took his time, caressing and kissing her entire body, from her toes to behind her ears. By the time he began cunnilingus every muscle she had was quivering. She almost exploded at the first touch of his tongue. When he finally entered her, what seemed like hours after their foreplay had started, she could hardly catch her breath. He lifted her towards him and they made love, her legs around his waist, her bottom on his thighs, both of them kissing passionately until they came together.
They made love twice more that night.
The relationship continued in this vein for several weeks. Even Maxine expressed shock about the longevity of it. “I’ve honestly never seen him like this, sweetie. I keep thinking there must be some ulterior motive, that there’s going to be a nasty shock somewhere… but I think I believe him when he says that he just really, really likes you. He thinks you’re amazing.”
“He said that? He said I was amazing?”
“Yep.”
Liz was starting to fall for him, too, although she refused to let her guard down completely. They had talked a little about his life as a womaniser – he was quite open about it – but he reassured her constantly that what they had felt different. Gradually, she began to believe him. She confided in Arlene at work that perhaps she’d been a bit harsh on Ethan at the beginning.
“Poor Andy,” she said again.
“God, what is it with you and Andy?”
“I just think he’s nice. And he looks heartbroken whenever he sees you.”
“Poor Andy,” said Liz.
A couple of months into the relationship and after a rampant lovemaking session that had started in the kitchen, detonated in his living room and finished in the bedroom… before restarting in the shower, they were lying awake, comfortable in the peaceful silence. A blue tinge of moonlight filled the room. Liz, feeling sated and fuzzy, felt at ease enough to tell him what she had expected when she first went out with him. How she’d thought he was almost an animal, how she assumed he would dump her once he’d had his way with her. How she had never had any intention of this being anything other than a quick bit of fun.
Ethan pretended to be hurt and then laughed softly. “You know, that is what usually happens with women I date. And I thought that would happen with you, too. But that first night, you just looked so perfect. Your hair, your eyes sparkling, that incredible dress, your laugh, the way you spoke without any shyness… you were so funny. I kinda gotta sense of you at Maxine’s, but once I had you alone, you were even better than I imagined. I dunno… I just wanted to see more of you. I didn’t want a one-night stand with you. It feels… real… doesn’t it?” It really was a question, not a statement, and that vulnerability only served to melt Liz’s heart further.
“It does. And you better mean that, or I’ll cut your balls off,” she whispered.
Over the next few months, Liz did exactly what she said she would never do and that was fall in love with him. It happened quite quickly, maybe after just a few weeks or so, but she didn’t admit it to herself for several months afterwards. She just kept denying it in her head, insisting to herself and to Maxine and to her work colleagues that it was still short-term fun; that it would all end soon enough.
Ethan was the first to say ‘I love you’. He did it on the occasion of their six-month anniversary. He took her to the same Japanese restaurant they went to on their first date and, back at his flat, as they lay naked together, allowing fingers and hands to explore each other’s bodies, he whispered it to her as she lightly slid her hand up and down his hard cock. Even though it was said in passion, she knew he meant it and just before she ducked under the covers to take him in her mouth, she said it too.
Three months later he asked her to move in with him. She hesitated and sought advice from Maxine. Liz expected her to counsel against it. As wild as she could be at times, especially when it came to carnal fun, Max generally dispensed sensible, even maternal advice to Liz. “You said yes, of course?” she said.
Liz was shocked. “Um, well, not yet.”
“Why not? I thought you two were in lurve?”
“We are. But, you know, it’s Ethan. You told me he was only good for a week or two, that I shouldn’t get stuck on him, that he’d never change and… and all that.”
“Yes, I did say that didn’t I? I believed it, too. But I’ve never seen him like this. I think you have changed him. I’m not saying don’t be wary, I’m not saying don’t assume he’ll always be 100% faithful, but I honestly think he’s changed. I’ve never, ever seen him be with anyone longer than a couple of months. And he’s been with some amazing girls – some beautiful but dumb, of course – but some were genuinely smart and funny and gorgeous and they adored him, but he just pushed them away. But with you he’s different. He used to be so self-centred, bless him, but now it’s like he’s Liz-centred.”
“So, shall I say yes?”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to be with him?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
“… Yes. I do. He’s given me no reason not to.”
“I think you have your answer, sweetie.”
His flat, near Hampstead in north London, was a step or ten up from hers. Plenty of space, huge widescreen TV and surround sound system, fabulous bathroom, enormous king size bed – and everything was tastefully decorated. She felt at home right away – possibly because she’d been spending so much time there anyway.
It was around the 11-month mark in the relationship, in the spring of 2008, when Liz first felt just a touch uneasy. First of all, Maxine, who only lived three or four streets along from them, happened to see Ethan having a coffee with an attractive older lady late one afternoon. When Max mentioned she’d seen him to Liz, she thought nothing of it at first. But the more she considered it, the more she was sure something didn’t add up. She was positive that he’d said he was taking a male client for a running session on the Heath at that time. Maybe Max had just been wrong about when she saw him.
A couple of weeks later she took Ethan to a Kylie Minogue concert at the O2 Arena. All the girls from the office went and one or two brought their boyfriends. Ethan seemed to enjoy the evening, even though he was not much of a Kylie fan, and Liz was once again pleased with how much of an effort he made with her friends and how well he fitted into the group.
The next day at work, however, Arlene c
alled Liz into one of their small meeting rooms. She talked about a few things she needed Liz to do on the website, but then said, “Listen, Lizzie, this is probably nothing, but I wouldn’t be a mate if I didn’t tell you about it. Last night when you went to the lav, Ethan was a little bit… well, handsy with me.”
“Handsy?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t anything major, we were dancing a bit and his hands found their way to my ass. I moved them pretty quick you understand, but they were there and he wasn’t bashful about it neither. It’s probably nothing, sweetheart, but I thought I should mention it. Does he do that a lot?”
“N-no, I mean, well… yeah, it’s just his way. He was probably a bit pissed. I’ll have words!”
“Are we all right? I promise I didn’t do anything to lead him on, well not beyond being as fit as fuck, right?”
“Course we are, and who could blame him anyway you little Aussie stunner!”
Liz never did mention it to Ethan, but she did begin to keep a closer eye on him. Over the next couple of weeks, he was home late a few times. At first just by an hour or two and then a couple of times he didn’t make it until well after midnight. The late evenings grew more regular. Ethan blamed it on a client, but something didn’t sit right. Finally, suspicion turned to alarm bells when he arrived home after three in the morning and conspicuously headed straight for the shower.
She caught him eventually, of course. Ethan may have had more than his fair share of women in his time, but he was not an experienced cheater – mainly because he was rarely with a woman long enough to two-time her. Consequently, he was probably too unaware of the dangers to properly cover his tracks. Leaving his BlackBerry unattended, with his calendar just a click away, became his undoing. Liz resisted several opportunities before finally sneaking a peak – she was so sure he was seeing someone else that she managed to justify her snooping to herself. One thing stood out – a booking at a restaurant later that week. They weren’t due to go out together, so it seemed pretty suspicious.
On the night in question, she sat at the window of a bar opposite the restaurant and waited. Arlene was with her for moral support. “This is ace, mate,” she said. “Like a real stakeout!” Then she realised she probably shouldn’t have been quite so happy about what was actually a sad evening. “Sorry, Lizzie – no offence, mate.”
“None taken! It is like a stakeout. Another G&T?”
“Don’t mind if I do. What are you gonna say to him if you catch him?”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“Actions speak louder than words, sweetheart.”
“Kick in the nuts?”
“Bingo. Hey – at least one person will be pleased about this.”
“Who?”
“Andy!”
“Has he not moved on yet?”
“Nope, he is obsessed with you, girl. Obsessed. In a nice way. Not in a stalker way… as far as I know.”
The pair of them had sunk a few gin and tonics by the time Ethan finally emerged, just after ten, with his arm around a blonde woman, all legs and jewellery, both of them giggling. He began scanning the street for a taxi. “Right, I’m off, see you in a sec, wish me luck!”
“Good luck! Use your knee – it’s a bit more ladylike.” Liz nodded, gulped down the rest of her drink and then stalked out and across the street. He didn’t see her until she was next to them.
“Hi baby, what time do you think you’ll be home tonight? Are you bringing your friend along?”
“Who’s this?” asked the blonde woman.
“Ah, hi, Liz… Fuck.” There was a fairly long, awkward pause. “Fuck.” A cab mercifully pulled up. “You better get in there, Candy.”
“Candy? Really? Fuck me, that is priceless,” squealed Liz. Candy looked a bit shocked, but before she could say anything Ethan had pushed her inside and was grabbing £40 from his wallet.
“Wherever she needs to go,” he told the driver, and closed the door. Liz and Ethan looked at each other while the cab drove off.
“How long?”
“Baby…”
“How long?”
“Coupla weeks.” Liz slapped his cheek viciously and returned to the bar.
“Oh, that was an awesome slap, girl!” They high-fived.
“Her name was Candy!”
“Candy! Fucking perfect!”
“Can I stay at yours for a bit.”
“Course you can. Long as you want.”
“I need another drink.”
“Shall I call Andy for you?”
Liz was sure that was the end of it. It was inevitable, of course. It had just happened much later than she had expected and the worst thing was that she had got hurt.
And yet, he was sorry. He was contrite. He begged forgiveness. He said he had felt scared, trapped, but he now realised that he couldn’t bear to lose her. Gifts arrived at the office on a daily basis. Flowers. Chocolates. Doughnuts for everyone (trying to curry favour with her mates: smart). Wine. Even a £300 bracelet from Tiffany. After a week of this she began to break. Finally, she agreed to move back in. She had given him a shock – hopefully he had learned his lesson. And the make-up sex was awesome. He spent a lot of time with his head between her legs for the first week she was back.
Soon, the incident was pretty much forgotten. Their relationship, if anything, became even stronger. Their sex life was certainly better. Role-play, sex toys, dressing up, sending each other rude photos during the day – they explored all kinds of areas. Ethan was constantly inventive and Liz loved to push the boundaries. She was seen as a fun but probably reasonably sensible girl amongst friends, and she loved the idea that she could secretly turn into something much naughtier in the bedroom. Plus, she reasoned, if Ethan was fully satisfied sexually, perhaps he was less likely to go looking for extra-curricular fun elsewhere.
On Christmas morning in 2008, Ethan proposed. No one saw that coming, not even Liz. He walked into their bedroom with a thick woollen sock, commenting that it didn’t look like Santa had brought her very much. Inside was a small box. She expected earrings, but before she could flip it open he took it from her, sank to one knee, still completely naked it must be said, and opened it for her. She screamed. She said yes. They made love, quickly, madly.
They married that summer. It was not a huge wedding, more of a wedding with friends rather than a big family do. Ethan danced with just about every woman in the place, from the four-year-old bridesmaid to Liz’s 90-year-old grandmother. He charmed every single one of them and was on his very best behaviour throughout, never too far from her side, never more than a few moments away from whispering to her that she looked beautiful, that he loved her, that he could not believe how happy she made him.
“You’ve done the impossible, sweetie,” said Maxine, her Maid of Honour. “You’ve turned an utter hound into some kind of… Lassie… does that even make sense?”
“Er, I think so.”
That is where the story, such as it is, should have ended. In fairy tales and romance stories this is where the lovely couple live happily ever after. And, deep into 2009, it looked as if that was exactly how the story would end. Ethan even began talking about the possibility of kids – although she was keen to wait a little longer, being a number of years younger than him and still building her career at the magazine.
Who knows what happened? Maybe they just became too comfortable. Or perhaps Ethan hadn’t really changed. But in late autumn of that year he became involved with a client. She was a successful, married, finance executive. The fling lasted around a month and this time Ethan covered his tracks more carefully. The problem was that when guilt did get to him and he broke it off, the woman was so angry that she hand-delivered a letter to their home, addressed to Liz and revealing everything: how they fucked in the morning at her place after her husband had left for work and even how they had made love several times in Liz and Ethan’s bed.
It was a harsh letter, graceless, scathing of Ethan, and apparently absolving herself
of any blame despite the fact that she had regularly been committing adultery too. Unlike last time, this made Liz angrier with the woman than with Ethan, although the letter made her physically vomit in pain.
Ethan broke down in front of her that evening, crying, begging her to once more forgive him and work at their marriage. It was a long night of discussion. Liz wanted out. She felt like she could possibly forgive him and keep the union alive, but the thought of going through it all again the next time his dick decided it was bored of her made her want to scratch his eyes out. And her own. She stayed with Maxine and Jack this time, for two weeks. She would have stayed longer, but their loud lovemaking began to grate, so she moved back.
She didn’t tell him she was returning, she was just there one evening when he got home. It was over a week later that he finally asked where his beloved baseball, signed by New York Yankees legend Derek Jeter, had gone. It usually had pride of place, in a pristine glass case, on the mantelpiece. “E-Bay,” she replied. He bit his lip. She had a nice trip to Tiffany.
Gradually, the ice melted and the discussion about kids was occasionally raised as they began to feel like a family again. Yet something had broken that second time. Maybe Ethan felt he had been unlucky to get caught. Or maybe he just couldn’t help himself. But the signs of his restlessness were soon easy to spot.
It was the tiniest details at first. The way he looked at an attractive waitress, when before his gaze would rarely stray from Liz. The way he would occasionally go too far in his praise for one of her friends, particularly Maxine, who Liz knew he loved to fantasise about. And then there was the dinner party at Max’s, just before Christmas 2010. It brought back memories of how they first met.
Couples were not allowed to sit next to each other in a bid to encourage proper mingling, so Liz and Ethan perched at different ends of the table. During dessert, Liz rose to reach for the wine and happened to catch a glance of her husband’s arm at a strange angle under the table. He was sitting next to Kirsten, a woman in her mid-30s with a more-than-ample cleavage and a breathy voice. She couldn’t know for sure, of course, but she had seen that move before. Even when Ethan pulled the trick of going to the bathroom before Kirsten had returned from her trip, Liz said nothing. She had no proof. It could all be completely innocent.
Sex with a Sting: Six Erotic Fantasies with a Kink in the Tail Page 12
