Page 274 of Hell Hath No Fury
“Oh wow, Mary, you’re on a roll. I’ve always thought I was a bad influence, and here we are, exhibit A, dropping the ‘c’ word like a pro.” She falls against me, full belly laughs, and it’s infectious enough I join in.
“Give me more champagne, and I’ll tell you all about tight arse Stephanie.”
“Only if you think it would help with my application.”
“No, I doubt it. I mean, she knew we were friends, so I think my intel is worth shit in this instance.”
“Then, I’ll take a rain check. I don’t do gossip, and honestly, I don’t actually care. However, I know exactly where they can put their wait list option. I’ll be fucked if I’m going to wait around like some pathetic hound hoping for scraps. I need to find a new school option for Roman.”
“Noooo, you have to fight it, Sam!” Mary pleads, grabbing the sleeve of my blouse like it’s a lifeline. her face all twisted with sadness and dopy from the alcohol. “I want you there, Petal wants Roman. Don’t let the Stephanies’ of the world win. That’s what they do; they win, and it fucking hurts that they get away with it.” Fat tears spring from her big blue eyes. This conversation just took a dark turn. I ease the glass out of her hand, realising, with emotions clearly high and volatile, she’s probably had more than enough. Taking her hand, I lead her over to the soft seating area in the conservatory off the back of the kitchen. The low sprawling sofas with plump cushions and soft blankets are the perfect place to share and download. “Okay, tell me. What did she do?”
Her head flops onto her hand, and with the other, she tugs the cashmere throw up to her neck. It’s not remotely chilly in here, but she looks like she could do with the comfort, and it’s a perfect blanket for that.
“Stephanie’s husband, Edward.” She swipes the single tear racing down her cheek and steadies herself with a deep breath. “We grew up together. We were best friends all through primary school, like Roman and Petal. I loved him so much, not in a romantic way, just in a good way. He was the other half of me in so many respects. Anyway, when he met Stephanie, I’d just started dating Marcus. It was fun to hang in a group. We weren’t in each other’s pockets, but we did a lot of things together. It was a good time, until it wasn’t.
“It seemed Stephanie had decided our group friendship had run its course, and, specifically, my friendship with Edward. It was subtle at first, cancelling dinner dates, never fixing a time to actually meet up, that sort of thing. And then one day, we weren’t friends anymore. I stopped trying to reach him. She was always there, answering his phone or at his flat, and if we did meet by accident, it felt all wrong. I hated it.
“It was just after my divorce that he called me. We met up for a drink, and he said he was sorry about Marcus. He never apologised for being the worst friend, dropping me like he did and breaking my heart. He just said he was sorry that my cheating husband had left me. It seemed strange to me that he even knew. It’s not like I broadcast it. I asked him straight how he knew, and that’s when he told me about the club where he and Marcus were members. The sex club. He was quick to emphasise he wasn’t a member, anymore, but felt bad he’d never told me about Marcus. I was so mad at him and at Marcus. I was mad at the whole damn world. I was also incredibly hurt and a little drunk. It was near the end of the evening, and I lashed out. Said I would tell Stephanie, and then we’d both be miserable. He said it wouldn’t change anything. Stephanie would never leave him, and he was miserable, utterly miserable. He told me Stephanie only has sex when she wants a child. It’s why he joinedthe club; he needed some discreet relief. Can you believe he said that? I think he wanted me to feel sorry for him.”
“I don’t believe they are always about sex. Some clubs are just an escape. Sorry…continue.” Mary looks mortified, and I quickly realise this isn’t the time for a lesson in the lifestyle.
“I broke down, cried for ages. He comforted me, nothing funny, just an embrace when I needed it. I wasn’t going to tell Stephanie. His marriage seemed punishment enough for being such a shitty friend.”
“So you made up? You’re friends now?”
She scoffs, a flat humourless sound. “Not quite. He ruined it, just at the point we could’ve been friends. He said in all sincerity that he understood why Marcus did what he did, and that I shouldn’t be so hard on Marcus. Apparently, they were still good friends, and Marcus had told him I was like Stephanie, an ice cold, frigid bitch. The fucking bastard, justifying his infidelity by blaming me, and Edward believed him.” Justifiable rage rolls off of her tiny frame, and it takes a good few minutes for her to calm back down. I’m not sure what to say. The wide eyes and hurt expression when I did offer my thoughts a minute ago was clearly the wrong thing. I’m not very good at this level of emotional outpouring.
“I’m not frigid. I mean, when Petal was born, I wasn’t gagging for it all the time, but we were good in bed.” Her cheeks are soaked, and she looks so lost. I feel my own anger bubbling at her misplaced self-doubt.
“He’s a coward, Mary. This isn’t on you.”
“Oh, I know it isn’t.” She sniffs back and roughly rubs her face dry with the oversized sleeve on her woolly sweater. "The sad thing is, he’s made me this person, this angry, bitter, money-grabbing ex. If he fell out of love with me, then he should’ve told me. If he wanted more sex, then maybe he should’ve helped out more, so I wasn’t so damn tired, but no. He joins a sleazy sexclub and starts banging his secretary.” Vitriol coats every angry word spewed, and as much as it stings, I understand. She’s hurt. Lies have broken her. I just hope the truth is going to help glue her back together and not break us too.
“It’s not a sleazy club.”
“Excuse me?”
“The club, the sex club, it’s not sleazy. It’s extremely exclusive, and it’s not all about sex. It has a nice bar, somewhere to relax, and somewhere to play,” I state calmly, as if I’m narrating a promo video.
“I’m going to repeat myself and say, excuse me?” Her jaw drops so it’s almost hitting her chest.
“Oh wow. Okay, at the risk of our friendship, I’m going to tell you, and it’s only because I do consider you a good friend that I am even considering this. You’ve been lied to, and I won’t do that to you. You deserve to know the truth—even if that means exposing something that is very private. This isn’t where I wanted this to go; however I feel I have no choice. I have to be honest here.”
“Okay.” Hesitant and leaning back slightly, she looks to be steeling herself or perhaps getting ready to run. I hope it isn’t the latter.
“The sex club you mentioned, and the one that Edward is still a member of is owned by Jason, well, both of us really, since I’m his wife.” I offer a light, nervous laugh and look longingly over at the near-full second bottle of champagne on the island. I close my eyes for a split second and force myself to continue. As hard as this is to say, it’s going to be so much harder to hear, and this is a Band-Aid ripping moment, quick and painful. “I used to work there as a dominatrix. Sorry. What I am saying is I used to work there as London’sbestdominatrix. I even think Edward was a client.” I blurt.
“Fuck!”
“I never did that. I wasn’t that type of sex worker.” It might have sounded like a quip, but my tone is deadly serious, as is the eye contact I hold with Mary so she is under no illusions of my honesty.
“You’re a solicitor?” she says after a few seconds of studying my face and clearly picking over the new information.
“Yes, and I can lay a perfect figure 8 on the back of a submissive with a bullwhip at twenty paces if that’s what I want. It’s very empowering. I kind of miss it.” I muse.
“Um…” She tilts her head comically.
“More champagne?” Pushing up from the sofa, I stride across the room. It was a rhetorical question and I return with both glasses and the champagne.
