‘At the Glen…, you know.’
‘Seven Kings – 1 hour, Oh and yer horse, Namir, is running in the 2.40 at Haydock.’
He closed the mobile and shoved it in his shirt pocket. Afternoon sorted. Marie would understand. He was a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Bob told Marie about all his mates’ worries… OK normally half a story when drunk, and having to explain again when sober, and not really wanting to talk. She would understand OK, but it would be Bob who was buying the pints.
The mobile buzzed. The text read. ‘Goin 2 7 kings wi Aid. Cum f u like. Back l8r.’
The gym was quiet. Marie did her classes on a Saturday morning. No sex to hinder her early morning since Bob rarely performed after a night out. She got her kicks from the adrenalin rushing during a spin class, watching the customers ogling her rear end, while she forced them to work harder. Like the bondage queens she watched on TV documentaries, she had power and used it.
Quiet now. Sweaty men of various shapes and sizes traipsed off to showers thinking about her. Bulging in their shorts. She felt good.
So what to do this afternoon? Go and see Bob? Why? She would be ignored and bored.
Bob was a nice guy, mainly, but they had reached their equilibrium with each other, and life was stale. The gym was a good get away from it all, but the feeling was only temporary. Marie needed more. Much more. She dreamed of the early days. They really were loved up, although not without their own faults – she had had one relationship she could call an affair… and dreamed of those feelings, as they did happen and were real. But Simon, Spiv, was a complete loser… he still flirted with her though, and she always thought if there was a time and place, she would lose herself to him. Again.
The bikes sat empty in the mirrored hall. The mats were being moved onto the floor now by a couple of 40 year old, naturists whose yoga class was popular with the blue rinse brigade. Marie wondered how long it took to get their piss-drenched pants off the floor at the end of the class. Last year one of the ‘customers’ had died during the session… no-one noticed until it was over. Even the deceased’s partner hadn’t noticed, or didn’t want to make a fuss. She just sat next to him, propping him up. People might exaggerate, but it was said that the beardy naturist ran and grabbed the defibrillator regardless of the fact that the corpse was cold and blue.
‘just goin 2 shops. U want 2 go out 2 night. Or will I just c u at home.’
Bob probably wouldn’t answer the text, but at least she had replied. She now had the freedom of the afternoon. Juice machine and Diet Irn Bru, gulp down a little, burp privately. ‘Bye’ to reception, and into the car park. Seems a joke but she took the car to the gym despite the 400yds walk it would have been from the back door of her 2 bed house. Unnatural sports car, sunshine yellow and bulging with spunk. She couldn’t really afford it, but it went with the territory. If you have a car parked outside the Gym, it’s got to look as good as the owner. Sunglasses on. ‘It’s a bright day’. Back to the house. Bob’s bike in the close. He had bought that yellow bike only days after she bought the car claiming, in some way, that it showed her how much he loved her. Stupid yellow bike. Car parked out on the street. Some kids playing kerby down the way. Grass needs cut. Too early in the year, it will just grow quicker if you cut it. It will just cut up the soil… any excuse. Front door locked, as predicted. Mail sitting on the sideboard. At least Bob took a telling, and he didn’t just leave it lying. Toilet. Not flushed. The shit! Why does he do that?? Phone bill, already know what it says from the online account. Junk mail, why do they insist on sending me this shit? No responses from the gang yet. She only sent them out yesterday, but maybe someone would have left a message on the answer machine. Marie made her way through the hall, avoiding boxes of bike parts and tools – which would eventually reach the shed, Bob assured her, and looked across the kitchen to the digital display. 1 message.
‘Hi Marie. Just Mum. What are you doing this afternoon? Are you working? (I never work on a Saturday afternoon and she knows that). If you aren’t could you come over and see the paint I bought for the back room? I just want a second opinion and I know you have good taste. (Clever, very clever). Oh well, that’s the afternoon gone. An afternoon discussing the colour and listening to how little time her mother would have to do the painting, and her father’s bad leg and back, and her illness last week, and if only Bob had more time around the place, when were they going to get married…. And that would be when she caved in, put on the overalls and painted the fuckin room…
A knock on the door. Oh god, its Tom.
‘Hi Marie, I got your letter’
‘You going to come?’
‘If you’ll let me’. Tom was not Simon or Bob. Nothing Like. Not even like Aidrian, who at least seemed to care about people. He was sleazy, and it was only the danger that came from getting caught that turned her on. At the moment it was like the worst of both worlds. Tom’s desires pawing at her, or her mother’s usual shit…
‘Listen, Bobs on his way back. I just got a text from him’ Tom fed his foot inside the door.
‘Without his bike? That’s not like him.’ Tom wanted sex. It was in his head, and it turned him on more that Bob might be back at anytime. It would be awful to be caught in your mate’s bed with his lady, but then again Tom felt above pretty much everyone. He stroked Marie's arm, and saw the goosebumps rise. Her nipples stood to attention through her sports bra. She wanted him, or so he thought. Her gut wrenched at the thought of this encounter, her mother’s decorating becoming a more than welcome diversion.
‘Tom, my mum’s expecting me at hers soon. Bob’s meant to be coming. I just texted to see if he remembered. He was only along at the bus stop. Tom took his eyes off her chest and looked at her face which was flushed. Even if she was lying, he wanted her, and now. She was fit and pretty. She was energetic and even without touching her he was becoming aroused. He stepped into the vestibule.
‘Let’s see what we can get up to until he gets back’ and, with that, he closed the door on the Yale lock.
Marie stood still. She didn’t have any more excuses. She shouldn’t have let it happen the first time, and now she was torn up with worry every time that Tom returned from one of his long haul trips. He leaned over her and kissed her neck, the nausea tinged with lust for a moment. His hand was already inside her top and soon he would have his way.
Tom felt his way up and down the inside of her clothing, first along her top and then round to her bra clip. As it came away he kissed her lips and then around her neck. His hands moved down to her pink shorts and as she moaned, he pulled them down and turned her towards the couch, his hand touching her hair, and searching for her moistness. His other hand moved across her breasts, pawing and squeezing. Marie felt so awful, but so good. If only Bob made her feel this way, but they had grown so stale. She wanted to yell out his name. Tom had been told that Bob would be here shortly. He didn’t care. He would be inside her soon and if Bob walked in, she didn’t think that would stop him. He would finish first, and then make his excuses to go. Probably back home to his wife.
The mobile rang. Tom fidgeted in his pocket trying to turn it off, but dropped the phone at his feet. Marie turned and picked it up. It was Emma.
She slid the phone open, grabbing the opportunity to halt Tom’s advances.
‘Hi Emma, Tom’s just at the toilet. How are you?’
She moved away from the sofa, replacing her shorts.
Toms face turned to ash, unsure of Marie's next move, his passions diverted to sudden realism of the situation.
