Posts Tagged ‘betrayal’

Stories: A Small Flirtation

February 14, 2015

A story for Valentine’s Day – a bit of romance and betrayal, passion and lust. This first appeared in Red on Red, an Anthology of Northern Territory Writing. Happy Valentine’s Day.

A SMALL FLIRTATION           

Jack.

I kissed her. Properly. Finally. Well, she kissed me and I didn’t hold back. Well, I did. A bit. I didn’t kiss her the way she wanted. I wanted to. When we were sitting in the pub I knew something was coming. She touched my hand a couple of times, kept looking at me, held my gaze: smiled. She’d grabbed my arse before we left work: I knew what she was thinking. Said she’d had another dream about me. Erotic again. She dreams about me a lot. I like that. I like that she dreams about me and tells me. I wonder how explicitly. She hints. I can guess.

So I went for a drink with her and Cam. I s’pose I shouldn’t have. I know she wants me. Would I fuck her? Perhaps if she was a bit thinner, perhaps if we weren’t married. I don’t know. I think about it. I like cuddling her, touching her, the smell of her. But anything else is too difficult. Judy would kill me this time. But we went for a drink – couldn’t hurt, not with Cam there too. But she played up to me, smiling, listening sympathetically to my woes, swirling her ice in, it sounds stupid, a very sexy way. I was really aware of Cam, like a chaperone, there with us. He seemed not to notice her attentions, but he’s used to her flirting: he has coffee with her every morning. Perhaps she doesn’t like me that much? Perhaps she plays us all like this? I watch her. She pays more attention to me than Cam: it’s my hand she touches, it’s my gaze she holds. She stays in her seat as Cam moves to go. So do I. Is she waiting for me, watching me? I expected us all to leave together. But Cam leaves and neither of us move so we’re left alone in the pub.

Her drink is almost empty. She wants another. I don’t. I’m frightened what might happen if I drink too much. I offer to buy her a drink. She will if I will. I won’t. She doesn’t. I feel nervous. I should go. Judy and the kids. It’s eight o’clock. She won’t stay without me. We leave together. I feel better that we’re going. It would be too easy to stay. Outside the door she slips her arm around me, tucking her shoulder under mine. My arm goes around her. I don’t even think about it. We walk like this so often. I like the way she feels tucked in close.

We stop at my bike. I put my helmet and gloves on the seat. She stands in front of me. Close. Expectant. We don’t often stand face to face. She’s quite short really. No heels. Her head fits neatly onto my shoulder. I know this from before. Before that scene in my office, when we used to cuddle too much. She puts her arms around me, around my waist. I know this is stupid. I should have got on the bike and just gone. I shouldn’t have put my helmet down. She’s waiting for something to happen. I put my arms around her. She looks up at me. She wants to kiss me. I want to kiss her. I’ve kissed her before, on her hair, her tinted blonde, soft hair. And a peck on the mouth, once. She wants more than a peck tonight. I bend down to her mouth and we kiss. Mouths slightly open, enough pressure. She tries to move her tongue into my mouth. I can’t do that. She pulls away. Pissed off. I’m glad. No, I’m not. Shit. I don’t know what I am. I want her but her tongue at my teeth scares me. I can’t open my mouth.

She rants and raves a bit. Understandable. Do I lead her on? Have I encouraged her? I don’t know. I do like her. I like the way she feels. But she’s married. I’m married. I know her old man. I tell her I like him too much, her too much. It’s not much of an answer. I put on my jacket and helmet. I can’t go any further with her. Although I probably want to. Where would we go for God’s sake – her car and have it stink of sex and Gary know something was up because that smell is unmistakable? I hug her and go. I don’t even look back to see the lights of her car or if she’s okay. She’s okay. She’s pretty tough really. Must be to like an arse-hole like me. I try not to think about her as I ride home. I lick my mouth tasting her lipstick. I don’t think about her body pressing into mine, her eyes on me. I put tomorrow out of my mind.

I wipe my mouth carefully before I go into the house, remembering the shit her lipstick on my shirt sleeve had caused last month.

***

Kim.

He kissed me. Properly. Not really passionately but it wasn’t a Platonic kiss. He held me and he kissed me. He just wouldn’t let his tongue respond to mine. I don’t know why. But as I think about it now it wasn’t all me. My mouth tingled from the stubble around his mouth, so the pressure was there. He tasted of beer and smoke, sexy, making me think of years ago. And as he’s so much taller than me and I wasn’t wearing heels and I wasn’t on tip-toe he must have bent to kiss me. So he kissed me as much as I kissed him.

I can’t remember how tightly he held me or where his arms were I just know he stayed behind when Cam left and he put his helmet down when we got to his bike. He’d spent the afternoon with me, sat with me at the function, got me drinks, told me stupid jokes. I told him I’d dreamed of him again. That always gets into him. But I was surprised when he agreed to go for drinks with Cam and me after work. He usually pisses off really early. I was pleased though. I knew something would happen. Six months of this, the year nearly over. Something had to happen.

I watched him when Cam made going home moves. He just sat. Cam seemed unsure. Didn’t seem to know what was going on. He sort of hesitated, then left. He waved at me through the window. Did he raise his eyebrows? Jack did not move an inch. He stayed still. Sat with me. Alone together. It was fine and then he seemed to get cold feet. Jabbered on about getting the kids to bed and getting home. Me too, I said. What’s the hassle, I thought. So we left. I put my arm around him and he hugged me to him. We walk like that a lot. I like it. I like the way he feels. Big, strong, but soft. He’s beginning to run to fat in there somewhere. Who am I to say! We stop at his bike. He puts his helmet and gloves on the seat. He stands there. Me in front of him. I can’t help but cuddle him. He puts his arms around me. Well he must have. I can’t really remember this bit. I didn’t have that much to drink, perhaps I should have had more, perhaps we would have fucked then!

But we kiss. Open mouths, some feeling, some fire, but he won’t respond properly. I feel stupid. Idiot. My mouth tingles from his stubble. I taste his beer and cigarettes in my mouth. I step back. Shout at him. Made a fool of myself again over you. How nice for your ego, how nice for you. What stops you? I want to know. He throws out come-ons, winks, smiles but won’t go the distance. Why have a drink with me, kiss me and then kick me in the face? I hate him. I feel so fucking stupid. Because I respect you and Gary too much he says. I almost laugh. What a fucking stupid thing to say.

He stays calm. I hate it that he does that. Gary does that too. He puts on his gloves and helmet. He puts his key in the bike. I hang about. I want this resolved. He comes back. His mouth is covered in dark pink lipstick. Mine. I think I should tell him to wipe it off but why bother. He hugs me. It sort of stems the discomfort I feel, the bile rising in my throat. He isn’t a complete arse-hole. Not quite. I go to the car. He roars past me. Gone. I can’t go home. Can’t face Gary after that. My head spins, my mouth still tingles, I can still taste him. I go and see Caitlin and get blind.

***

Kim

The day after the kiss was fine. He was easy with me, smiled a lot, chatted a lot. We seem to have a secret, a nice secret between us. There seems to be an understanding about Tuesday night, about us. I feel calm around him, sort of happy, like we’ve moved to the next phase of this idiotic non-relationship of ours. I feel like we’ll progress like this, slowly but inexorably towards fucking each other. It seems an inevitability of being around him. Things will happen if I don’t force anything.

Caitlin thinks I should talk to him. It didn’t work last time, why should it this time? I don’t want to talk to him in his office but he won’t come to mine. Patience. I shall try patience. Today I think I can wait forever for him. I assume this serenity won’t last.

***

Jack

I’m not sure what’s going on. Kim is all sweet and calm. No hassle about Tuesday night, yet we seem to have seen a lot of each other at work: intimate sort of chats. It’s like we have a secret. Well I s’pose we do. Where to from here? When she smiles at me and touches me I do want her. I’m sorry I didn’t fuck her the other night. I could do it now – take her into the photocopy room and fuck her there. Just do it.

I had a strange conversation with Cam. After Kim had been with us, discussing next year’s intake. I didn’t think we’d flirted at all, but he did. He was cryptic but I got the message. I’m not as thick as some think. Too much gossip, not good for the place, for me, for her. But I don’t want to talk to her about it. What do I say? Look as everybody thinks we’re doing it we may as well. There’s a thought. Listen, you’ve got to keep away from me. But she does. She only sees me when she has to, she just tends to stay for that extra five minutes. We can’t talk to each other at all? A solution, but not a preferred one.

I should have fucked her. Ages ago. Made all this shit and angst worthwhile.

***

Kim

He’s been transferred. I don’t believe it. He’s going.

***

Jack

They’re transferring me. I don’t want to go.

***

Jack

Kim came into my office after Cam announced I was going. She looked terrible. I felt terrible. She wanted me to shut the door. I said no. There’s been enough bullshit around here the last few days. No closed doors. She just left. I s’pose I was a bit harsh. I saw her about twenty minutes later in the corridor. Looking sad. I must have too. Our eyes met for a moment, a long moment but we said nothing. What is there to say now?

She was leaving work as I was, just in front of me. I called her back: Kimberley. Sometimes I call her that. She only lets Gary call her that. What does that mean? I want to talk, want her sympathy, her support. I want to know how she feels about me going. I feel absolutely shit-house. She’ll give me a hug, help me feel better, make leaving bearable. There’s no-one around.

Instead she savages me. What happened between yesterday and now? She’s pleased that I’m going. Personally, I’m glad you’re going. You’re such a bastard. You’ve tried to say this is all me. It’s not all me, not just in my head. It’s you too. You stayed on Tuesday. You sat with me. You kissed me too. You could have left. You know how I feel about you.

I can’t handle this. No hugs, no smile. No comfort here. How much truth in what she says? She’s hurt: about me going, about how I treat her? I’m hurt. Can’t she see that? I hate her for this. I don’t want hysterical scenes. Not as I’m leaving, not ever. I have done nothing wrong. I was just being friendly. I can’t see her eyes behind her ray-bans but she hates me too. Her chin is set against me. She gives up. Suit yourself. She’s gone. I drive away too fast, feeling bad about the whole mess. Fuck her, fuck her, fuck her.

Fuck the company too.

***

Kim

I cried as I left work. I didn’t want a scene like that. Not so close to the end. Not with him. But the bastard wouldn’t talk to me and then he was an arse-hole in his office, eyes all steel and cold, as I don’t know him. They went like that again in the car park. But in between they were soft and sad, lost blue eyes. Blue eyes I think I love.

No, I don’t. That’s just being sentimental, dramatic, so stupid.

But I felt a real bitch after. I felt mean and nasty and low. In town after I’d done the order for next year and posted my Christmas cards I bought him a card. I thought a long time about what to write. I used my best black pen and wrote it out a couple of times before I wrote on the card. I left it on his desk first thing Friday morning, with a chocolate Father Christmas. He’ll be late. So he’ll get the card before seeing me. He’ll be softened and I’ll be half shot after the champagne breakfast. I’ll have to try not to cry all day. And not to make an utter idiot of myself. Not again.

***

Jack

The new place is horrible. I don’t want to go. Why can’t the bastards leave me alone? Why can’t they leave me here? Everyone is being so nice this morning. Lucy, the receptionist, cried. Sandra, Cam’s secretary, gave me a hug and a kiss good-bye; early she said, before the rush from the others. As if Kim could seriously think that I liked Sandy as I like her. When I finally got to my office there’s a range of packages, a fax from the department, official written notification and a card from Kim. Simple. Sweet. So she felt guilty about yesterday. “Love, Kim”. Oh, yeah. Does she love me? She’s never said. But she wouldn’t. Why would she, I’d just screw it back in her face. Shit, I’ll miss her.

I don’t want to go. Fuck ’em!

***

Kim

I didn’t see him until lunch time. He was cooking sausages on the BBQ. People everywhere. I’d had about two bottles of champagne since 7:30. He had a beer. I went straight out to him and hugged him. He kissed me. On the mouth, in public. Several times. I apologised for being a bitch. I asked about the new place. He’s resigned to it. I’m happy that we’ll end as friends. I still like the way he feels: so good to hold.

Lunch is a long pissy affair. I tidy up my desk slowly, wondering about saying goodbye to Jack. Caitlin is taking me home but she’s busy washing up. I don’t feel so desperate any more. By the time we start again next year this will all be forgotten: he’ll be gone, there will be no more gossip. Well, not much anyway.

I wander through the front office saying goodbye to people. I kiss Cam, hug Rob, then look for Jack, hoping he’s in his office. He’s not. He’s standing by Lucy’s desk. I don’t care any more. I’d like a private goodbye but it doesn’t matter. Not any more.

I’ve come to say goodbye before it’s too late. It’s 2:30. We hug close and tight. We kiss hard but friendly. I burrow into his neck. God, I’ll miss you. My head is buried in his shoulder. His face is in my hair. I love you, too, he says.

I walk away quickly, putting on my ray-bans so no-one can see me crying. Bastard! How dare he say that now! How dare he say I love you? How dare he say such a thing as he’s leaving!

***

Jack

It’s gone. The last box is in the car. I can’t believe I was only there for six months. I could have stayed forever. I’ll miss Cam, the others, Kim. I will miss Kim, but … If I’d stayed it would have got messier. She looked lovely today; all Christmas, balls in her ears, tinsel around her throat, her wrists. I watched her through lunch. I know why I want to fuck her- she uses her body the whole time, she smiles continually, she’s noisy and bright and I want her next to me, naked and lush with me inside her. I don’t care that she’s a stone over-weight, I don’t care that we’re both married. I care that she wants me. That she might love me. Christ! I should have fucked her when I had the chance.

She came to find me after lunch. I wondered if she would. I wanted to be in my office alone but I was talking to Lucy. I expected Kim would take me into the office. I was surprised when she didn’t. Perhaps I’ve been too rough with her. Not given her enough out of this strange game we’ve been playing.

So we said good-bye. I held her tight and she buried her head in my neck, kissing it as we were lovers alone. I kissed her hair and we kissed again, hard, too much feeling. God, I’ll miss you, she said. I hope she does. And I said, not thinking, not even sure if I meant it, but said it perhaps because finally it was the only thing I could say, I love you, too. I held her a moment longer. Close. Intimate. And she was gone.

As I left I over-heard someone say Kim was crying. I almost went to her. Almost held her tight. Almost took her away. Almost.

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Friendship – the art of infinite hope

November 18, 2012

I have reached such an age and lived a life such that I have friends across the planet and across quite an age range.  I consider this part of my life to be both essential and empowering. To have friends is to be affirmed, to be loved, to be accepted for who you are. Friends are as important as lovers and family.

Friendship is as much about forgiveness as about sharing and doing things together. We all manage to hurt those we care about, whether through carelessness, or some degree of malice. Being alive, being in relationships means we fall out, we drift apart: we forget why we were friends.

Watch small children, teenagers – what hurts them the most is not bullying (another blog) but when they fall out with their friends. They hate being shut out, ignored or forgotten. Often they don’t really know what’s happened or why – why the nasty comment, the not invited to the movies, the silence in the room?

As a parent the very worst thing is when you can’t mend or fix things for your child, when you can’t make their friends like them again, or explain why they’ve behaved as they have.

 

It’s also one of the mysteries of our own life – why do we fall out with our own friends? Consider the following:

Distance – when we move apart the closeness and sharing we once had becomes difficult unless we’re willing to work to keep the friendship going. FaceBook has overcome this to a large extent and we should be grateful for that but we’ve still got to post regularly and send messages to keep the love going.

Romance – this is a killer! Your friend’s partner (or your own) may not like you, or you them and it puts an enormous strain on friendship. There are ways around this, mainly to do with patience and kindness and a strong desire to keep the friendship going. Remember love is blind – for all of us – and sometimes your friends endure longer than your lovers and even when you do settle down you still need your friends. Being a friend when your friend has a boor or a fool or a bitch for a partner can kill the strongest friendship.

Core beliefs – this is where essentially you do not accord with your friend on a fundamental basis about questions of ethics, morality, politics, religion. If you see the world too differently it can push you apart. You can adjust to an extent but if it is fundamental to who you are, ie you are a confirmed tree loving Greenie and your friend is all for progress and business development then your friendship will fundamentally fail.

Trauma – illness, death, divorce, some of life’s nastier moments rent friendship in two. Sometimes your friends (you?) cannot muster the strength to be there for your friend when they need you most. Seeing your friend struggling through chemotherapy, getting over a stroke, dealing with the loss of a child or spouse can be too hard for some of us. We can hover at the edges, send flowers, bake a casserole, do the garden but when the trauma is on-going as these matters usually are, we need our friends to hang in and not everyone has that sort of stamina. Perhaps they feel that being too close will somehow taint their lives too?

Treachery – a wide and encompassing category. Sometimes our friends let us down so badly, they betray us so deeply it is a treasonable offence. The friend who steals our lover or partner; the friend who chooses the side against us; the friend who smiles with us but gossips about us; the friend who is so charming and beguiling it takes us ages to work out they are under-mining us, telling lies, betraying our secrets and trust. Treachery comes in many shades of crimson.

But sometimes, sometimes we can come back from these things, sometimes the core of our friendship survives. Sometimes, and usually this is after time has passed and the wound has healed with the scar barely visible, we can find our way to let our friend back into our lives. Forgiveness comes in many colours of blue, shade of forgiveness that heal us as well as our friends.

Time allows the pain of betrayal, of being let down to fade, and if we’re lucky the good times of the friendship find their way back to the surface of your life and you can have your friend back again. But perhaps with a more cautious heart… (Images courtesy Google Images)

 

Games – mid week poem

April 11, 2012

So

she turned on him,

spun round on her spiked stiletto,

hiss-ssing, almost ss-spitting, facing him down –

Who cares about your blue eyes

your hairy chest

and Cuban heels?

Who cares?

She advanced on him

Stabbing her sharpened scarlet nail into his chest

If you can’t be pleasant to me

Smile hello

hold a simple conversation

nod casually in the tea room

pass on  the stairs

If you can’t do that

If all you want to do is play stupid games

–       wink and

–       sigh and

–       touch and

–       beckon and

–       insinuate and

–       imply and

–       then NOTHING

All the boring time

Then I’m not in love with you.

Not any more.

No.

She stood straight

Tall on her new black spikes

Flexing her blood clotted talons.

She stood clear.

From him.

Get fucked

Take your ageing arrogant arse

Out of my life.

Go play games with someone else.

  

She shut the door

In silence she left him,

a small tap tapping on the hard office floor as she slipped away

From him

Fast and Clean.

(images courtesy Google Images)

Mid week poem – Denial

March 28, 2012

There is Nothing between us.

He shook off her touch, stalked away.

If you say so.

She shrugged, scuttled to her desk.

Avoided

his space

his disdain

his eyes.

But then – after his final pronouncement, his own cruel words

– when Nothing was gone

he was the one confused, bewildered.

He missed it.

He wanted it back.

That sweet Nothing which used to be between them.

He looked to her

to find her heart again

through her eyes.

He smiled at her and went to speak.

She looked through him.

Beyond him, as if he were a ghost

There was nothing there.

 

Now

what he had wantonly discarded,

only two short months before,

He wanted back.

He did not know how

He could not speak to her

about that which he had so easily denied.

This was not the Nothing

he had intended. (Images courtesy Google Images)