Target-1
2005 Words
Target
Target
Michael - Eleven Weeks
I lie awake, an arm propped behind my head. Lying beside me; Charlotte, eyes closed, her breathing steady and slow. Beyond her, James, the rise and fall of his chest equally regular.
Richard and Beth are in the next room. Perhaps they’re sleeping. I’m not sure. It seems to me I sometimes hear a low murmur of words.
But, my mind a-whirl, sleep escapes me.
Should I get up?
Make a coffee? Read perhaps…
But right now, I don’t want to leave the bed or my sleeping wife. For her perhaps to wake and find me not here.
So, tossing and turning, I while away the darkness, watching slanted moonbeams make their slow progression across the carpet, then the bed, before finally fading. And now the first grey light of dawn creeps across the windows.
A blackbird chirrups its early arpeggio; a sweet melodic prelude to the full chorus that will follow.
And still my mind wheels and turns.
The sheer enormity of what Richard has offered me takes my breath away.
Beth.
Beautiful, sweet, submissive Beth. So like my own Charlotte physically. But so unlike in her every other way.
Richard’s wife. His submissive. So much younger than he is.
And he has… What? Bequeathed her to me?
A second wife?
And Charlotte says she doesn’t mind. Even encourages it.
As does James.
Why?
I roll onto my side, settling to watch my sleeping flame-haired beauty.
And gradually, it dawns on me that her breathing is not the slow steady rhythm of the sleeper…
She’s not asleep…
Pretending?
“Charlotte?”
Her eyes flick open. Not the gradual flutter of the slowly waking, but the snap of the already conscious. And her gaze settles on me. In the daylight, that gaze would be emerald, but now, in the early dawn, she is a pattern of light and shade; a tracery in grey, her eyes a white gleam.
She shifts, crisp linen sheets rustling in the semi-dark and her hand cups my cheek. “You okay?” She leans in, brushing her lips over mine.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
Her body vibrates; quiet laughter. “I’m fine. Really, I am. Richard asked me before he spoke to you. So…” She strokes my face. “… Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure. It’s hard to put into words…”
“Overwhelm?” A glint from her teeth joins that from her eyes.
“That’s as good a description as any… Charlotte…”
“You’re not changing your mind, are you? About Beth?”
“I’m… I don't know. Charlotte, are you sure you’re alright about this? It’s not every woman who’d be happy for her husband to have a second wife.”
She chuckles. “It’s not every man who would accept that his wife has two husbands. But you’re right. If it were any other woman than Beth, no, I wouldn’t have accepted it.” The chuckle turns to a snort. “I’d have scratched her freakin’ eyes out.” Her voice softens. “But it is Beth…”
I reach for her, sliding an arm around her waist, pulling her, warm and yielding, to me
She snuggles close, contouring herself to my body, nuzzling into the nook of my neck and shoulder. “You smell good.”
“Charlotte, I promised you on our wedding night that you would never have cause to regret marrying me.”
“Yes, you did. And you never have given me cause.”
“Not even now? A bit of partying with Richard and Beth on special occasions is one thing, but this…”
She pulls away, leaning back so she can look me in the face. “Have you changed your mind? Yesterday evening you agreed to it, but we were all there. If you said yes to Richard because you were feeling pressured or for the wrong reasons…”
“No, I wasn't pressured. That’s not it. It’s... you did spring it on me. You obviously all knew about it before. You’d discussed it. I had two minutes’ notice.”
She sits up, knees hugging up to the slight swell of her belly, pulling the sheets to her chest. “If you want to change your mind, you should do it sooner rather than later. Beth and Richard would understand if it happened now. Later…”
“I don’t want to change my mind… exactly… But I wanted to talk to you about it. Talk it through. Last night, we didn’t discuss anything… There was no opportunity to discuss anything… About how it would work. Are we a… a five-some? Or are we an overlapping couple and our Triad. Who would live where? Or when we might all meet up. Or… anything…”
“That’s all detail.”
“I know it’s detail. We can work through it. But… but mainly… I have to be certain that you are alright with this.”
“Michael, I’ve already…”
I cut her off, sitting up to look her in the eye. “Charlotte, I never expected to meet a woman where not only do I want to be faithful to her, I have no inclination to be otherwise. You never asked me to be faithful to you, but it's something I have always wanted to do for you. My gift to you. The only woman I've touched since you and I met is Beth herself, and you agreed, even encouraged that.”
A finger of sunlight creeps across the carpet, the light turning from grey to golden. Her mouth twitches mischief. “How many have you had?”
“What? How many what?” I’m protesting, pretending innocence, but I understand exactly what she’s asking. I simply don’t want to answer her.
“Women. How many women have you had? Before me.”
“I never counted.”
The mischief dances into her eyes. “You never counted your conquests?”
“Women aren't conquests. And they're not numbers either.”
She jerks a thumb to the sleeping James at her side. “Marcie said that the two of you had… what were her words? ‘Worked every sub within twenty miles’…”
Fucking Marcie…
“How about your own past?”
Her forehead creases. “What about my past? You know how we met…” She colours up. “The Auction…”
“Yes, James bought you and he invited me in the following day. But after that week, you went to college. What happened there?”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“You had no boyfriends at college? After that first week? You’d discovered you enjoyed sex.”
“I… there were a couple. I had a date or two. But it never…” She stutters to a halt.
“I’m guessing it was a bit pale compared to what James and I give you?”
She nods down to her knees, looking forlorn. “Yes.”
You bastard...
“Babe, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. The fact is, I have a past. Everyone does.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Miss what? Playing the field?”
“Yes. You had so much freedom when you were single and I wondered, maybe…”
“I think about it sometimes, but if by miss it, you mean, do I want to go back to that? No, I don't. I have you.”
“And now Beth too.”
“And now, Beth.” Framing her face with my hands, “But that doesn’t change in any way how I feel about you, or the fact that you are my wife and I am your husband.”
“I know that.” She smiles, leaning in to meet me half-way and we kiss.
She breaks off. “Ahh… damn.”
“What?”
She pats her stomach. “I need to pee.”
I shift to let her past and she climbs out of the bed, supporting her stomach with one hand and clutching at her breasts with the other. “I’m going to have to wear a bra in bed if these damn things get any bigger.”
“They look pretty good to me. But I suspect they'll getter bigger than that. It’s early days yet.”
She gives me a slow look then vanishes off into the bathroom, leaving me with the ‘sleeping’ James.
“You're not fooling me. I know you're awake.”
His eyes flick open, his mouth quirking with humour. “And have been for some time. I’ll admit, I was enjoying the turn the conversation had taken. I would have liked to hear more.”
“You didn't want to join in?”
“You had things you needed to talk through with Charlotte.”
“You could say that, yes. You shared her with me, arranged that I married her and now you've conspired to give me a second wife. Competition for her affections.”
He stares up for a moment, sucking at his cheeks. “I don't know that conspired is the right word…”
“Oh, I think it is.”
He sniffs. “Alright, it is. In the same way that you and Charlotte arranged that her first child would be mine...”
“That's what friends do for each other.”
“And this is what friends do for each other. There’s no question between you and me of competition for Charlotte’s affection. There’s no jealousy between her and Beth. And you’re perfectly capable of giving each of them what they need and deserve. We all had good reasons for the things we did.”
He sits up, scraping at a blue haze of stubble. “No one should have to deal with what Ben did to you, for all that he convinced himself he was doing it on your behalf. Klempner had it right when he talked about betrayal.”
Klempner…
Wonder where he is now?
*****
Thailand
At ‘Arrivals’, I wait, card clutched in hand: Strohmayer Party.
The crowds throng by, sweeping past; wives and husbands, lovers, and teenage sweethearts meet and embrace. Men smile, shake hands and slap backs, women hug and kiss cheeks. Children, olive-skinned, dark-haired and almond-eyed run to meet smiling oldsters, arms outstretched, shrieking as they run.
Nothing of this feels familiar.
But then, when did anyone come running to me?
My mother, a smile on her lips, laughter in her eyes, hunkering down, arms outstretched as I toddle to her, as fast as short legs will carry me… “Larry, Sweetheart…”
And Him in the background; red-faced, scowling, bleary-eyed.
Enough...
…
…
Ah... there they are...
Six in the group, middle-aged, prosperous and coming to ‘party’…
… for a given definition of ‘party’.
That’s got to be them.
I adjust my cap to just the right angle, brush down the jacket and straighten up, making sure the card is prominent.
The leader of the group is scanning the crowd. His eyes settle on the card and he looks back, jerking his chin at me. He struts across…
Rich…
Arrogant…
Jerk…
“Mr Strohmayer?”
“You the chauffeur?” His voice is a nice mix of accent and condescension.
“I’m here to take you to your lodgings, sir, yes.”
“Great.” He thumbs to the back of the group where one of them pushes a trolley piled with what looks like baggage for the lot of them. “Cases are back there. You can take us to the car. Limo? As I ordered?”
“Yes, sir. Everything as you ordered. Air conditioning. Drinks in the chiller. Everything for your comfort. If there is anything…”
“Just get us out of this heat.” He runs a finger around his collar. “f*****g humidity’s got me already. It’d better be everything we were promised. We’ve paid a lot for this.”
I duck my head and copy/paste my best tone of ingratiation. “I think, sir, I can guarantee you the experience of a lifetime.”
“Good. Paid a fuckin’ fortune for this. I want my money's worth.”
In the car - a stretch-limo as ordered; “If there is anything else you want, sirs, or any questions, just…”
“How old are they?” pipes up one. “I’m not looking for some sixteen-year-old claiming to be fourteen. I want the real thing.”
“You can choose, sir. Whatever you want. All ages. Both sexes. Local, foreign, Western, Asian, blond, dark. You name it. You’ll find it.”
“How young?” says one of them. He’s got that seedy hue that comes from spending too much time indoors bending over a screen.
Probably d**k-less and can’t pull an actual woman…
“As young as you want, sir.”
Dickless leans back and sighs. “Great. I want it really tight when I…”
“Alright,” snaps Strohmayer. “We don’t want to hear it, Frischmann. Whatever you want’s gonna be there. Where are we eating?”
“I’m taking you there now, sir. A banquet for six laid on. A mix of traditional Thai and Western dishes as requested. Is there anything…”
“Shut the f**k up and give us some privacy.”
“Of course, sir.”
That works for me…
I tap the button raising the glass screen behind me, making sure I turn my face from the rear-view so they don’t see me smiling.
Ain’t the internet wonderful? All those people who, once, would have been so hard to find. Now, in these days of the great and glorious World Wide Web, you locate the right ‘social media’ on the dark-net and, Hey, Presto…
I turn off the main highway and down the track through the rainforest.
- Writer
