*****
I wake to sunlight streaming over the bed. My view is blocked by Ryan, standing over me, offering me a mug.
âYou like coffee on a morning?â he asks.
âI sit up to take the mug from him. âItâs one of the food groups.â I grin.
When was the last time I woke up in a manâs bed?
He sits by me, sipping from his own cup. He doesnât speak, but repeatedly, his glance strays my way before he looks away again, smiling.
The obvious question finally looms. âWhat time is it?â
âTen to eight.â
âJeez! Iâll be late to work!â
âHey, calm down. Iâll drive you there.â
âI canât go like thisâ¦.â
âThe showerâs through thereâ¦.â
As it is, Ryan delivers me on squealing wheels to Haswell Building at two minutes to nine, And as I swipe my entry card, James Alexanders is coming in right behind me. He must have seen Ryan drop me off and he wears the kind of half-smile that says he knows exactly why I am wearing yesterdayâs blouse and a rapidly painted-on expression of dignity.
âMorning, Kirstie.â
âMorning Mr Alexanders.â
*****
That evening, walking the dogs on the beach, Ben jogs up to me, and Scruffy barges in to meet up with my canine gang again.
âHi.â he puffs, bending to rest hands on knees for a minute as he catches his breath. âHow are you?
Great to see you again.â
âIâm fine.â In truth, I am a little uncomfortable. The speed, and for that matter, the direction in which my ârelationshipâ with Ben is progressing is unnerving me. He seems to believe that we are a lot closer than I do, and I am not at all sure that I want to take things with him any further.
Whatâs a safe topic of conversation?
Oh, yesâ¦.
âI was surprised when I met Charlotte at work and realised who she is. You and your brother arenât much alike, are you?â
He frowns. âSorry? Youâve met my brother?â
âYes, I saw him with Charlotte in the lobby a few days ago.â
âOh, I didnât know that. He must have been picking her up.â
âEr, no. They were on their way out actually. I would never have taken the pair of you for brothersâ¦.â
âI donât think weâre that unalike, are we? I know heâs a lot blonder than I amâ¦.â
Blonder?
âNo, the man I saw was dark; much darker-haired than you. â
He shakes his head. âMikeâs blond, very blond. He looks like something from a toothpaste advert. You know, the kind with the sunshine-healthy family, all corn-fed, and eating wheat germ and yoghurt.â
Mikeâ¦.? Not James thenâ¦.
Time to tread carefullyâ¦.
âOh, it must be my mistake. I saw Charlotte with a tall dark-haired guy and assumed that it was your brotherâ¦.â
Ben snaps his fingers. âI know who you saw. It was the Haswells. Beth Haswell is the spit ân image of Charlotte, and her husband is tall and dark-haired.â
âRight. Definitely my mistake then.â
Time to shut my mouthâ¦.
My mind is spinning overtime, running on whirring red-hot axles. The Charlotte I met was certainly the same girl I saw with Alexandersâ¦.
I opt for changing the subject.
âShe seems nice.â
âI suppose.â Ben shrugs.
Doesnât he like her?
âSheâs very pretty isnât she?â
âEr, I suppose so. Mike certainly thinks so. Sheâs a bit erâ¦. ginger for me.â
I burst out laughing. âYou donât like redheads?â
His eyes slide sideways. âI prefer brunettes.â
*****
The front doors swish open and a blond, strikingly good-looking man enters the lobby. He is tall, although not overly so, broad-shouldered and strappingly built.
My heart sinks as I recognise him.
Oh, God. Itâs himâ¦.
Itâs James Alexandersâ friend from the Club. Am I going to be seeing them both here?
This could be embarrassing.
He barely looks at me, his brilliantly blue-eyed gaze sweeping past me as instead, he heads straight for the elevator.
Almost at the doors, he abruptly slows, turns and looks back at me, brow furrowed.
He pauses. âSorry to seem rude, but do we know each other?â
âUmâ¦. yes. We met two or three years ago. You were with your friend, James.â
He stares blankly at me for a moment, then his face clears. With the most charming of smiles, he stabs a finger at me. âDebbie. That was it, wasnât it?â
That damn blush rises up my face again. I tap my lapel badge. Moving closer, he peers in and grins.
âAh, Kirstie.â He laughs. âI see. Nice to meet you Kirstie.â He taps his nose. âKirstie. Iâll remember that.â
My brain scrambles for something to say that is not related to this amazing looking man fucking my brains out in a threesome with his friend at a sex club.
âUm, do I need to check with anyone if you have an appointment or something?â
He rolls his eyes. âSorry, of course, youâre new. No, donât worry. They know me here. Iâm just going to find my wife upstairs.â
âYes, your friend said that youâd got married.â
âJames? Youâve met him here?â
âYes, just the other day.â
Now he grins. âWas he polite?â
âOh, yes. He was a gentleman.â
The grin grows wider. âGlad to hear it. Heâs a good man; one of the best, but sometimesâ¦. umâ¦
empathyâs not his strong point.â
And now I laugh. âHeâs a Dom, isnât he. If you cut him in half, itâd say âDomâ running right through the middle.
Michael laughs. âYouâre not wrong there. Gotta go Kirstie. See you around.â He heads back to the lifts, turning back as the doors open, and waving. âIâm Michael by the way. Nice to meet you again.â
What a great guyâ¦.
Shame he got marriedâ¦.
*****
Itâs my lunchtime. I could go to the staff canteen; the facilities are very good. But I prefer to get out for a while for a change of air, so I head for the coffee bar over the road, ordering myself a latte and a BLT.
I take a window seat and Iâm halfway through my lunch, staring into space and pondering the incandescent joys of fucking with Ryan when a shadow falls over my view.
I look up. Itâs Charlotte, carrying a tray loaded with food.
She smiles brightly. âHi,â she says. âMind if I join you?â
âNot at all.â I shuffle up my chair to make space as she puts her tray down on the table.
âHope you donât mind?â she says as she seats herself. âI saw you from across the road and thought we might as well take the opportunity to get to know each other, since it looks as though weâre going to be seeing each other anyway.â
âSureâ¦. erâ¦.â
She eyes me over her coffee. âSomething wrong?â
I chew over my words. What can I politely say?
âLook, take this the right way. I know Benâs your brother-in-law, but I barely know him andâ¦.â
âYou barely know him? Heâs not shut up about you whenever Iâve seen him recently.â
âCharlotte, Iâve met him half a dozen times and had a couple of dates. Please donât get the wrong impression about where we are with each other.â
She looks pensive. âI donât think itâs my impression that you need to worry about.â
A voice comes from above us. âHi.â
Itâs Michael, his smile sunny as he looks down at the pair of us. âHello again, Kirstie. I didnât realise you two knew each other.â
âThought Iâd introduce myself to Benâs girlfriend,â says Charlotte. âWe were just having a chat.â
Michael sits, some of the sunshine fading from his smile. âSo, youâre the same Kirstie who is dating my brother, Ben?â
âBenâs your brother?â
âYes, he is.â Michael doesnât look happy, his expression disturbed. âCan I ask you something, Kirstie?
Are you still going to the clubs?â Charlotte looks startled, starts to speak, then bites her lip, holding her silence.
âI am, yes,â I reply.
âSo, why are you dating Ben?â
I shrug. âHe seems a nice guy, and he asked me out.â
Michael gives me a long look. âBenâs not like us, Kirstie. He thinks that relationships consist of one man and one woman. He sees the world through a narrower lens than we do. If heâs got any surprises coming, take it easy with him.â
I nod, glumly. âI was already thinking the same thing. And that perhaps Iâm not being fair to him.â
âSo, youâre planning on breaking up with him?â
âErmâ¦. I hadnât really gotten that far. But I think he expects things from me thatâ¦.â
âThat youâre not willing to deliver?â
âYes.â
There is an awkward silence and I stare at the table-top. My glance strays to Charlotteâs left hand, and I see her ringsâ¦.
Ahâ¦. Now I get itâ¦.
She is wearing two sets of rings. Very deliberately, and letting both see that I am doing it, I look at Michaelâs left hand.
Michaelâs eyes follow my gaze and he holds up his hand, displaying his ring finger. It bears a single, very beautiful ring in twisted yellow and white gold, matching one of those that Charlotte wears. But she also wears another, very similar, in woven red and yellow goldâ¦. matching the one I saw James wearing.
I try to form the question in a way that canât cause offence if I have gotten things horribly wrong, but Michael steps in. âYes,â he says.
âYes?â
âYes,â he repeats. âIâm married to Charlotte.â
âAnd Jamesâ¦.?â
âJames too.â
Charlotteâs face is a picture. âMichael, is this a good idea?â
âDonât worry, Babe,â he replies. âKirstie knows how it works.â
Charlotte looks at me, then at Michael, then back at me. âDo you two know each other?â
âKirstie and I, James too, know each other from umâ¦. my and Jamesâ playful pastâ¦.â
Charlotte bursts out laughing. âAh, gotcha. You met at the clubs and youâ¦.?â
âYes,â I admit. âThatâs not a problem for you, is it?â
âNot at all.â she rests her hand on mine, giving it a squeeze. âJames, Michael and I established long ago that the Past is the Past. We donât let it interfere with our current relationship.â She leans closer.
âTell me; when James had finished with you, how long was it before you could sit down?â
I splutter my coffee over the table-top.
Perhaps itâs time to wrap up this conversation before I say the wrong thingâ¦.
I make a show of glancing at my watch. âI need to be getting back to work. Iâm glad we spokeâ¦.â I look at Michael. âI assume that Ben doesnât know how it is with the three of you? I donât want to say the wrong thing to him.â
He shakes his head. âIâve not figured out yet, how to explain it to him. Heâs a bitâ¦.â
âVanilla?â
âYes, vanilla.â