Afterwards it had to happen that I went to bed with John. But let me start at the beginning. Patricia is my best friend; and she always had her nose in the books.
It’s not going too far to say that studying and hard work suited her. At the age of twenty-six, she was already acting-CEO at a multinational company and sat on various committees and advisory boards. Not surprisingly, this was at the expense of her personal life. Her workday was from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. Her family and friends were stupefied when she announced that she was going to marry John Hayman. He was the son of one of the business partners with whom she had frequent contact. According to gossips, this was more of a business deal than a happy marriage-to-be, but who was I to judge that.
So that's where I come into the picture. My name is Sylvia and I have been a good friend of Patricia for years. I just don't have her boundless ambition and hard side when it comes to business. However, we invariably get along well and when we see each other it’s always a big party. It was also a big party at her wedding. No expense or effort had been spared to make it into something great. There was even an appearance by a famous boy band and a lot of bigwigs from politics and business. The moment John entered with Patricia on his arm and looked at me with his brown eyes, something happened. My heart jumped and all the hair on my body stood on end. It seemed as if he was looking right into me and he liked what he saw quite a bit. Blood pounded in my head when he came up to me and introduced himself in a soft, warm voice and he continued to look at me. When Patricia finally pulled him over to meet the other guests, I knew that if he’d asked me to take off all my clothes right then and there, I would have done it on the spot. Later, when the wedding was over and I thanked Patricia and John for the wonderful party, he held my hand longer than necessary. At home I barely slept all night. When I closed my eyes I saw John in front of me and when I fell asleep for a moment I dreamed that he’d ripped off my clothes and then jumped me while I came over and over again and screamed like a skinny, suckling pig. But then again, Patricia was my best friend, and the thought that I might be cheating on her by jumping into the hay with John filled me with horror. I knew Patricia well enough to know she would never forgive me and could destroy me, but yeah… lust, hey?
When I meet them again it’s on the terrace of an expensive and exclusive restaurant. Thanks to an allowance from my father, which I receive monthly into my account, I can live a fairly carefree life and also afford a splurge at this luxury establishment.
Patricia hugs me warmly, kisses both cheeks, and sits down next to me on an elegant chair while John orders the drinks. She had said she had the time between two important meetings to have a light lunch. John comes with the drinks and serves me a Bacardi. We talk about general things until she suddenly comes out with, rather too loudly:
"What kind of life is this you lead, you’re always sitting alone and aren’t even married. What am I saying... not even engaged. If you don't watch out, you'll miss the boat, honey. Look at me... I'm happy with John, have a great job and can do whatever I want.”
"I have a lot of friends," I say, "and the reason I’m not married yet is simply because I have not yet found ‘the one’. And thanks to my super-rich dad, I don't have to work.”
Patricia shakes her head. "You really need to get your life in order. Soon you’ll be an old maid who no one wants anymore. And how is your sex life?”
I can feel that I am turning bright red. Also because John now leans forward with interest and looks at me questioningly.
"This doesn't concern you at all," I reply, "I'm fine. It's no shame not to be married yet. And I also wonder why every time we see each other my sex life has to be discussed.”
The painful moment is interrupted by the vibration of her phone against her thigh. Patricia fishes it out of her pocket and looks at the screen.
“I have to take this. Be right back.”
She immediately gets up and walks away, talking on the phone and holding her other hand to her ear.
John looks her over and then winks at me. "Have you known her for a long time?"
"Almost all my life," I answer, "since primary school. We met and went on vacation together. Very nice, but sometimes she can be a bit... uh... direct.”
John laughs. "I think that's a quality she also values in me.”
I look at him inquisitively. "How's that?"
"Well," he says softly, "I think you're an incredibly attractive woman with a great body and I'm surprised you're not married yet. Are you lesbian?"
"Lesbian?” I almost shout. I have difficulty controlling myself and feel that I am
getting red in the face again. "How do you get that in your head?”
People turn in their seats and look at us, smiling. Patricia is nowhere to be seen.
“Good, good.” He grins a bit. “I was just wondering.”
I take a sip of my Bacardi and wipe my lips with the back of my hand.
"It's because when I look at you, I get fantasies."
I feel my heart pounding and take a deep breath. I feel an unmistakable sexual tension between us. My hands tremble and I grip the back of my chair firmly. "What… uh... what kind of fantasies?"
He looks at me and I see that his eyes are narrow and intense. There’s a bit of saliva in the corner of his mouth. "I come to your place to deliver a package. But I wonder what's in it and before I ring the bell I open it."
My mouth feels dry as dust. "What's in it?"
It seems like my voice is coming from very far away.
“A dildo. One that’s twelve inches long. And then I think you might prefer the real thing over one that's fake. And when you open the door...”
Patricia's shadow falls over us. "We have to go, John. Could you pay up?”
She leans over and plants two quick kisses on my cheeks. Then she's gone.
"She's gone all day tomorrow," says John in a hurry. He embraces me and kisses me full on the mouth and I look into his eyes. I see that I cannot resist. It cannot be otherwise, it is my destiny. He follows after Patricia at a slow pace.
He looks back. "Tomorrow," he mouths, "and don't wear any panties."
The next day I am on my way early. I wear a thin, tight dress with spaghetti straps that show off my feminine curves. Although that is not really necessary for John.
That I’m right he proves the moment I’m inside. We don’t even make it to the bedroom.
In the hallway he pulls me out of my dress and I tear off his clothes. He takes me rough and hard on the flagstone floor. When we’ve recovered, he lifts me up in his strong arms and carries me upstairs. To Patricia's bed. There we do it several more times during the rest of the day and I realize that this is the first time ever in my life that I’m getting fucked by my best friend's husband. When I leave we both say, at the same time: "Patricia can never find out about this."
John presses a finger to my lips. "Silent to the grave."
His eyes follow me as I drive off.
The next day I groan in misery when I wake up. I have pain all over, feel dirty and used and have a horrible, throbbing headache. I lie naked in bed and see bruises on my body everywhere. Slowly the memories return and it becomes increasingly clear to me what I have done. I take a shower, pop an Advil for the headache and don't go out all day.
The following days I anxiously avoid any contact with Patricia. We usually meet twice a week, but I can't handle it. I am afraid that if I see her, I will tell her what happened, with all the consequences. I am restless, tense and exhausted all at the same time. I lack the energy to take a walk in my garden and one day, as I’m wondering how to proceed, an envelope falls on the mat. Surprised, I pick it up and look at the front. It says in big red letters that I have been selected as the winner of a cruise in the Caribbean islands. I tear open the envelope with trembling fingers and shake the contents onto the side table. Everything is there. The ticket, the confirmation and the itinerary. My breath catches in my throat when I see where we will be going. This is unbelievable. I have to call someone. And of course I call Patricia. It rings endlessly and then: “Patricia speaking."
"Hi... it’s me," I say excitedly. "I have to tell you something. I won a cruise. No reason. I have been selected as the winner. It’s soon...”
She interrupts me curtly. "I haven't heard from you in over a week."
I take a long, deep breath and feel like I could fall into whimpering at any moment.
"I haven't been feeling well lately. Sorry.”
"Well... who are you going with?"
”No one. It's a prize for me alone.”
"Well... I'm sure there’ll be plenty of young men on board to please you."
My mind is doing somersaults. Could it be... no, it can't. Why would she say something like that?
"I have to go. I’m busy. Have fun.”
I stand for a few minutes with the phone in my hand. Then I shrug my shoulders and excitedly go through the papers again. This could not have come at a better time.
Two weeks later I’m standing on the main deck, hanging over the railing and looking out over the ocean. Only the soft throbbing of the engines can be heard. Further off there’s music and the sounds of smiling and dancing people. I enjoy the relative silence and peace nearer to me.
The black water of the ocean glistens sixty feet below me. I look at the big white wake behind the ship. I hear some shuffling behind me and, assuming it is someone from the crew with a drink, I turn around.
I go stone cold despite the tropical night and want to scream but my throat is dry. All I can manage is a disjointed stutter.
"Pa... Patricia… how… what... are you doing here?"
She looks at me without saying a thing. She is dressed in a dark suit with a thin red jacket over it.
All the pieces fall into place in a fraction of a second. The ticket, the unlikely competition won. Her cool response over the phone. I’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker.
"Did you really think you could cheat on me, especially in my own home?”
She sneers. "You were disgusting, you dirty slut. There are cameras all over my house. I've seen everything.”
I stumble backwards and fall into the railing. My mouth opens to scream, but I cannot make a sound. My head is spinning and my stomach is feeling queasy.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Patricia... it wasn't..."
She looks at me and in a fraction of a second I can see in her eyes what she is up to. In a flash, Patricia bends over and grabs my ankles, lifts me like a rag doll and throws me over the railing.
My screams die away in the strong wind...