Authors: Cathy Yardley
“Now see here,” he said, and the righteousness of his voice made her frenzied, “I don’t make a practice of sleeping with total strangers. There may have—oh, okay, there was
one
other time, but really…”
“If I had you here now, I’d string you up by your balls,” she hissed.
He sighed. “My wife…”
“This is none of her goddamn business! This is all your fault!”
“You were…”
“Shut up, shut up. You can’t make me take those blood tests.”
“She might,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s a lawyer.”
Tika hung up, then shut off her cell phone.
Taylor’s eyes were wide, nervous. “What just happened?”
“I’m going in for a blood test,” she said. “Oh, and I might just be dying, after all. Or killing someone. That
asshole!
”
Judith was sitting at her desk at work. Her ordinarily clean office had developed a bad case of clutter—there was a cold cup of coffee growing fungus by her penholder, and behind her on the credenza her schedules were strewn like dropped playing cards. Her organizer still had the previous month in it—she hadn’t bothered to refill it, much less write down her daily tasks.
She stared at the screen…waiting.
Roger: Judith? I need to talk to you.
Judith heard the ping of the message, then got up, trying not to look flustered, and shut the door to her office…and then closed the vertical blinds.
“Roger.” She could feel her cheeks heating with a blush. “I missed you,” she typed, feeling stupid but saying it anyway. She didn’t message him all weekend—David had used the computer most of the time, ham-handedly fumbling at briefs. “I
tried to message you at two in the morning on Saturday, but you weren’t there.”
Roger: It was 5 a.m. I got your e-mail, though. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to talk to you.
Judith felt her heart beating heavily in her chest. It was ridiculous, this.
She’d woken up in the middle of the night this weekend, feeling the bulk of David’s boxer-covered body pressing against her side, and she’d felt…revulsion. The need to write to Roger had been tangible, driving. She had assumed he wouldn’t be online—but she hoped. Not finding him, she’d contented herself with rereading e-mails from him. And she’d written one herself, pouring out her heart. And obviously, he’d read it.
Roger: I’ve been thinking about you. Every day.
“I’ve thought about you, too,” she wrote back, wondering how he took the e-mail she sent. What he thought of what she’d written.
She’d started e-mailing him the night of the law school party. He’d apologized if he’d offended her. On the contrary, she said that it wasn’t anything, they were just friends, it was just the Internet. They were just having fun.
And continued to have fun—the next time David had to go out of town, once when he was at a soccer game with some interns. She’d managed it various times, waiting for the beep. And had been indulging in baths almost every evening—thinking of Roger every time.
Roger: Judith, what you said in the e-mail…
Judith felt her stomach contract. “Which part?”
Roger: The part about you thinking you might be in love with me.
“Oh. That part.”
Roger: And then the part where you said you knew that was stupid.
Now she was definitely blushing. “It
is
stupid,” she typed. “I mean, I don’t know you, I’m
married,
for pity’s sake…”
Roger: You’re not happy there.
“That’s no excuse!” She was typing hard enough for the keyboard to clack in protest. “I made a commitment. I mean, sure, it’s not the way I thought it would be. But what is?”
Roger: You deserve to be in love.
“That doesn’t change anything.” She felt like crying. She couldn’t—she was at
work,
for God’s sake!—but she wanted to put her head down on her desk and weep.
Roger: I love you, too, Judith. And I don’t think that’s stupid.
Judith blinked, then reread the sentence again. And one more time. Then blinked away tears.
That changed everything, somehow. She didn’t know what she’d do next, but…he loved her, she thought. They loved each other, somehow.
Roger: I wanted to tell you when I saw you in person, but I think you needed to hear it now.
“Oh, Roger,” she whispered, typing in: “So now what do we do?”
Roger: I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation before.
Judith wiped the tears away, then yanked a compact out of
her top drawer and repaired any makeup damage. Her eyes looked a little smaller, but she doubted anyone would notice.
“At any rate, it’s nice to know you’re there,” she typed. “It’s nice to know somebody out there loves me.”
It was sweetly unfulfilling. She was loved. She was in love. It would be enough. Like one of those fourteenth-century chivalrous things. Unless you counted that virtual sex thing—which, frankly, Judith wasn’t even really admitting to herself.
Judith, you must be losing your mind. What next? Clandestine adventures in B&B’s that have an Internet connection? A “quickie” behind a closed office door—by yourself? Have you lost your mind?
She didn’t care. She was happy for the moment. That was enough.
Roger: I think I need to come out to L.A. and see you.
Judith read the line, and all the happiness and emotion that had whirled through her at his first proclamation of love went cold, still and clammy. “You WHAT?” she typed.
Roger: I’ll fly to L.A. We need to see each other. We need to talk about this.
“But…why?”
There was a long pause between instant messages.
Roger: Because that’s what people in love DO, Judith. You can’t expect us to keep going on this way.
Judith held the sides of the computer, as if for balance…or maybe as if she could shake some sense into him, long distance. “You can’t. My husband! My family! What will they think?”
Roger: I’m not in love with them. What difference does it make? Don’t you want to see me?
He couldn’t possibly be serious. They only had a cyberaffair, for pity’s sake! This wasn’t…
This was real.
Strange, more than likely pathetic, but very, very real.
She’d spent most of her life catering to other people—being the perfect daughter, perfect girlfriend seguing into the perfect wife. She was a model employee. She didn’t even litter, for the love of God. She rarely even speeded.
Her mind raced. She took a few deep breaths, trying desperately to remember what her meditation coach had taught her about stressful situations. When was the last time she’d seen him?
Roger: I don’t want to hurt you more…but I want to see you, feel you, more than anything.
Could she do it? Could she move from a virtual affair to a real one? Did she want to?
Did she want more than an affair?
Roger: Judith—if you don’t want me to, I won’t. It’s all up to you.
She typed, slowly and methodically, then stared at the send button for a second. Biting her lip, she clicked on it, seeing her own message come over as if someone else had typed it:
Judith: When?
“R
ichard?” Sarah knocked on the door, lightly. “I was hoping I could leave early today. I’ve got a date.”
She almost walked out with just that, but Richard’s voice stopped her. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here. I…well, I was hoping I could talk to you a minute.”
Sarah walked into his office, wondering what was up. Maybe he had a press junket coming up—no, she couldn’t remember anything like that on his schedule. Hell. Maybe his publicist Emily had called him directly while she was out at lunch, and he’d answered the phone. Those calls always upset him.
She snuck a quick glance at her watch before plunking down in the seat opposite his desk. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. She was in a hurry, but she genuinely liked Richard.
“What? Yes. Well, no. Well…” He was wringing his hands slightly.
Now Sarah was really concerned. Wringing hands meant serious worry. “This doesn’t look good.”
“It’s not bad!” he assured her…then frowned, causing her to move from concern to worry. “Well, actually, it is bad.”
“Just say it fast,” Sarah said. “We’ll figure it out.”
He looked downright mournful at those words. “God. I mean…Sarah, we can’t go on like this.”
Sarah frowned. “Go on like what?”
“We eat lunch together every day, we hang out and go shopping…we have all this
fun
together.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he said in dire tones. “I’m…well, remember that deadline that’s coming up?”
“In three weeks? The redemption book?”
He looked down at the desk. “Remember how I said it was pretty much in the bag?”
“Yesss….”
“Well, I fibbed.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So how done are you?”
“I’ve almost got a rough,” he said, with an upbeat tone.
“A rough?” She was aghast. “You can’t just turn in a partial rough! You said you were just tweaking!”
“Tweaking the plot, to be precise,” he said.
She sighed. “Well, this
is
a problem. Do you want me to call Madeline?” Madeline was his editor. She’d already fielded a few calls from Madeline. “I mean, if I’m distracting you, then I can help you out. I’ll tell her that you’re sick—or that something’s come up. Or…”
“Sarah, I have to fire you.”
Sarah stopped in mid-helpful-monologue. “What?”
“I don’t like it either!” he wailed. “But I talked with Madeline today already, and I told her…well, she sort of
wormed
the problem out of me. And they’re really upset, Sarah. You have no idea!”
You sold me out?
It was probably wrong of her to think that, but he was sitting there, telling her she was unemployed
yet again,
and that because she’d become his friend, it was somehow her fault. That made no sense to her. No sense at all.
“I’ll write you a really good letter of recommendation,” he said. “And a month…a month’s severance.”
She looked at him. The betrayal must have shone across her face like a floodlight.
“Two months,” he amended. “And we can still go to parties, huh?”
“Oh, Richard,” she said, with a long sigh. Two months’ severance, especially from this job, was more than fair—it was insane.
Can’t I do anything right?
“I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you?”
Sarah gripped the handle of her purse. “Well,” she said, slowly, “I guess I can get out early today, huh?”
Martika sat in the Ob-Gyn’s office. She’d had blood taken for tests a few days before, and had been sweating it out, almost calling Taylor every hour on the hour. She’d considered talking to Sarah about it, but lately she’d been so full of it, with her clothes and her dates and her giggling, that it was all Martika could do not to give her a stepladder and tell her to get over herself.
“Ms. Adell?”
She looked at him. Dr. Powell. Sounded respectable. Frankly, sounded like someone older. He reminded her of Niles on
Frasier—
he was finicky and precise, and looked at her only fleetingly. “Yes. So, give me the bad news. Am I dying?”
He looked at her then, shaking his head. “If you mean do you have any diseases—no. At least, not showing up at this time. As you know, it takes six months to be truly sure with HIV, but within three months, you’ll be eight-five percent positive, and so forth…”
“And everything else?” Not that she
wanted
to die. But she was feeling a little drama. “Am I in danger of anything else?”
He shook his head. “No, you’ve got a clean bill of health. I would still warn against unsafe sexual practices, however.”
He sounded like her grandmother. Man, Taylor was going to have a field day with her. Still, her stomach felt better than it had in weeks. She got up. “Well. I’m glad that’s over with. It’s been…”
“You’ll want to sit down, Ms. Adell,” he said, and she stared at him. “The pregnancy test came up positive, so we’ll want to talk about that.”
“Whoa. Wait.” She sat down with a
thump.
“What was that?”
The young doctor winced, his blond hair covering his blue eyes for a second. He nervously brushed his bangs out of the way. “I am correct in assuming this is something you didn’t plan for, then?”
She blinked at him. Could the man have gone through however many years of med school to have come out this much of an asshole?
“I don’t know, Sherlock. I came in here for V.D. screenings. What do you think? Sound like I have a happy little domestic life?”
“It’s L.A.” He shrugged.
She blinked at him. Okay, that was a good answer. “So. Pregnant. Baby.” This was too
Twilight Zone
for words. “How…far along am I?”
“Just a month or so, from the looks of it.”
“Just a month.” She took a deep breath. She wasn’t all that late, she realized, but she’d been sort of stressed and that made her irregular.
Now she had even more to be stressed about. And that wouldn’t be the reason she wasn’t getting a period. Baby. About a month along.
“Well, what can I do about it?” The question was almost rhetorical. Martika felt numb, like she was in some kind of dream state. Rather like being on some really good weed.
“Ms. Adell, are you asking me about terminating your pregnancy?” His voice was awfully calm, she noted. He was so professional about this. Wondered if they taught him that in med school, as well.
“Um. Yes.” Of course, yes. She wasn’t ready for a baby, was she?
Keeping the baby. The thought wouldn’t have crossed her mind.
“Well, we’ll have you meet with a counselor first. Then we’ll schedule the procedure.” Like scheduling a haircut or some
thing, she thought. Numb, numb. “The day before, I’ll put a piece of seaweed in your uterus, to encourage dilation, then I’ll go ahead…”
She’d started to blank out his words. He’s got really thin lips, she thought inanely. Like he had no upper lip. Like his even white teeth—the kind that must have had braces at some point—were just waiting to jut out if he so much as parted his slash of a mouth…
“Ms. Adell?”
She blinked.
“Shall I give you the paperwork?”
She started to say yes.
It came out “Can I think about it?”
It was just a job—a stupid job at that. I’ve got more important things to worry about tonight.
Sarah knocked on Jeremy’s door, noticing that her palms were sweating slightly. She fanned them by her sides for a second, not wanting sweat marks on her clothes. She heard his heavy footstep, and took a deep breath.
Tryouts were over, she told herself with gritted teeth. She wasn’t going to keep testing. Jeremy was one hell of a kisser, and he could use his hands, from what she could tell. She had high hopes for the rest of his body. This wasn’t a repeat of Raoul, this wasn’t even one of Martika’s one-night-sex-a-thons. This was going to be epic.
Sure, she was still stinging over getting fired. But it was all about attitude. After tonight, she felt sure she wouldn’t feel stressed about
anything.
She smiled at that thought.
The door opened. Jeremy was standing there, looking like a model as usual. His eyes widened slightly. “Sarah. I’m so glad you could make it. I’ve been looking forward to tonight.”
“Oh, so have I.” She stepped in. “Beautiful house.” Good grief. She sounded like Eddie Haskell.
He smiled. “You should see the bedroom.”
And they were starting off with a bang, she noted. He seemed
as impatient as she was—but he was handling it better. She followed him through the foyer. The house was
huge,
she noted. Not a mansion like Richard’s Bel Air affair, but it definitely made Benjamin’s house look like a starter home and her own apartment look like the projects. The furniture was expensive. There were Japanese prints on the walls. She squinted, realizing that the ugly-looking samurai and the lady with the kimono falling off were…
She glanced away, quickly.
Eyew.
Jeremy laughed. “You’re so cute.” He stopped in front of the pornographic print. “This is a classic painting, actually. The Japanese are so much more graphic than Westerners about some things. You should see their animation.”
“I have,” Sarah countered, staring studiously at a safe-looking vase. She knew it was stupid to be embarrassed, but… “They project hentai anime over at Perversion sometimes.”
“I keep forgetting how worldly a life you have, Sarah,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.
Sarah felt a pleasant frisson of heat tickle up her spine. This was the right idea. This would be fine. She’d just been thrown off her stride a little, that’s all.
“I wonder…how much do you want to play, really?”
She knew her chin was jutting up defensively, but somehow she couldn’t help it. She should have expected that this wouldn’t be wine and roses. That was romance. This was hard-core sex…it was bound to have some unsavory edges to it.
“Listen, I’m just in this for a good time,” she assured him. He still had that laughter on his face. She was actually getting angry. “Listen, I’m as much of an adventurer as…” She stopped herself before she could say
as Martika.
“As anybody,” she finished lamely.
He laughed. “Well then. We’ll have to see how we can accommodate our young adventurer.”
The chill she felt was less pleasant than the previous thrill. This was a tough business, this sex-for-fun thing. And he certainly wasn’t helping anything.
“So, can I get my young Robinson Crusoe a drink?”
“Um…sure.” She thought about it. A drink would take the edge off. It wasn’t like she was going to go anywhere for a few hours. At least, she’d better not.
“What would you like?”
“What have you got?”
“Dear, we’ve got everything here.”
“Oh. Well…how about a Stoli and cranberry?”
His little smile seemed to mock her. Maybe she was being hypersensitive. It had happened before. “Sure thing. One Stoli and cranberry, coming right up.”
He wandered off, and she sat, feeling awkward. Maybe she should just jump him? She certainly didn’t want to listen to him talk for much longer. She wanted to get down to it. She wanted to have
Wild Orchid
sex. She wanted something more tender than porn and a helluva lot more time-intensive than Raoul the Underwear Model.
She felt like she was at point A, that was point B, and she had no idea how to draw a line between them.
“Just make yourself comfortable,” Jeremy called from the kitchen.
She took a deep breath, and quickly pulled her top over her head.
Okay, Sarah, you’re trying for seduction here. Can you handle this?
She reached around awkwardly. Trust her to choose her most complicated bra to wear when she’s trying to seduce someone. She got the hooks free with a flourish, and gingerly took the thing off. She was too busy glancing out the window to see if anybody was watching, but she heard footsteps before she’d fully disrobed.
Okay, Sarah. Go for it.
“I thought we could…” she said, then stopped abruptly.
The woman had glossy red hair, that fell with unforgiving heavy straightness down her back. She had large green eyes that were staring at Sarah curiously. “We could what?”
Sarah let out a little, muffled “eep” and almost ripped her
ears off yanking her shirt back on. She heard the woman laughing even as she blindly dressed.
Jeremy stepped back. “Oh. Hi, Mindy.”
“Mindy?”
Sarah glared at him, getting to her feet and banging her shin on the coffee table. The bruise would be nothing compared to her current painful humiliation. “Don’t tell me…I seem to be playing this role a lot. Girlfriend?”
Mindy grinned, holding up her left hand. The diamond there glittered mockingly at Sarah. “So close.”
“You’re married?” What was it with men? Was there not one fucking decent, committed man in all of Los Angeles County? Hell, in the
world?
“Well, yes. But that’s not the point here, is it?”
“I should fucking think so!”
Mindy laughed, and Jeremy stroked her shoulder. “You’re right, Jeremy. She’s cute.”
“You…you told her about me?”
Jeremy nodded, walking over to stand closer to Sarah. Sarah flinched as he stroked her shoulder the same way. “Of course. Mindy and I have no secrets from each other.”
“Listen, obviously you two are into this whole ‘open marriage’ thing, but I wasn’t really…”
“Sarah, you said you wanted a sexual adventure.” Jeremy’s voice was gentle, but held a slight edge of impatience. “What were you expecting?”
“Not this.” She tugged away from him, backing away like a cornered animal.
“It’s really all right,” Mindy said in an equally soothing voice. “Really. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”
“All right?
All right?
So you don’t care what he does or who with? What, would you be okay with
watching
us, too?” Sarah said sarcastically. “Or doesn’t your ‘openness’ extend to that?”
“I certainly would not be all right with watching,” Mindy said, and she looked vaguely affronted.
Sarah nodded, glaring at Jeremy. “See?”