Make Believe Wife Read online

  “Anything else?” The waitress peeks over her notebook.

  “Not right now. I’ll be wanting a chicken salad sandwich and a big bottle of lemonade to go before we leave.”

  As the waitress flees the scene, I realize Roxy is stocking up on food. Some of this stuff is going to go into her backpack for later. That thought makes me incredibly sad.

  “Where do you live, Roxy?”

  “Huh? Oh, nowhere. I move around a lot. I did have a home for awhile, but now it’s gone. It’s safer not to have one.”

  “Safer?”

  She looks at me, eyes hard.

  “Yes. Letting people get too close only fucks you up.”

  The silence stretches and when the waitress puts plates down in front of us, I barely notice. Roxy does and breaks the stare to demolish four pizza pockets without taking a breath.

  I sip my latte and take a tiny mouthful of cheesecake. I’ve never seen anyone eat like that. Most people I know eat slowly, like it’s a show. Roxy just fills her stomach. She doesn’t give a fuck who’s watching.

  When the burger and fries arrive, I’m not even halfway through my cheesecake. When Roxy grabs it with both hands and tears into it, I feel my stomach flip. There is so much passion in her, a ravenous hunger…

  Calm down, Helen.

  I press my thighs together, trying not to think about Roxy’s ferocious appetite and how her lips devour the food.

  I’m still slowly sipping my latte and eating my cheesecake a tiny bite at a time when Roxy demolishes her entire plate and the chocolate cake arrives. She’s finally slowed down now and eyes each bite of cake with appreciation before swallowing it.

  I want to comment. Something about how she’s enjoying the food. But I’m afraid that it will show my ignorance to her situation. I can’t imagine what it must be like to get around not having enough money to eat.

  “What do you do, Roxy?” I’m grasping at straws here, thinking she must have some kind of income. She shakes her head.

  “No job. Like having no home. I just follow my instincts. Sometimes I’m a bouncer, some days I’m a waitress. Sometimes I sleep in a bed, sometimes not.”

  I desperately want to ask about her family, but I can tell, that’s far too personal of a question. I know if she’s in this kind of circumstance, the family situation can’t be good.

  As I finish my latte and chase around the final piece of cheesecake, I realize this is exactly the kind of woman I’m looking for. She’s opportunistic, needs the cash and will play any part I like. There’s nothing holding her down so she can go anywhere she wants.

  I feel excitement rising in me as I consider being close to her and getting my deal, as well. It looks like it might actually be in reach.

  I look over at Roxy and she’s stuffing food into her bag. She has a slightly frantic look as her eyes dart around the place. I know she’s thinking about where she’s going to sleep.

  “Roxy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How would you like to sleep at my place? Maybe just for the night or something?” I’m still pretty wary. I don’t know anything about her at all.

  The grin stretches wide across her face.

  “Hey, sure thing. Thanks! And you just tell me what you need, you’re the boss, okay?”

  I press my thighs together even harder as the waitress approaches with the cheque. This could be far too tempting for me.

  For the first time in my life, I can feel my control slipping.

  Eight

  Roxanne

  I can’t get the smile off my face. It’s actually hurting my cheeks. Not so long ago I was hungry and cold and freaked out about where I was going to sleep. Now I’m full of good food—and so is my backpack—and she’s offering me a bed.

  Her bed?

  It’s not like I would mind. The way she’s smiling at me right now is definitely friendly and not sexy, but who can really tell with these things? If she was a guy, I’d be expecting it to get sexy straight away. I honestly don’t know which way this is going to go.

  But I’m not going to pass up this chance. She looks fancy and I’m betting she has plenty of room and good food, too. If she wants to fuck… I don’t think that will be difficult for me.

  Hell, I might seduce her the minute we get through the door. The only thing holding me back is that she might not have any interest in me, might not even be a lesbian. She might be one of those crazy do gooders that picks up people like me every now and then to assuage their guilt over all the fancy shit they own.

  I smile at Helen as she pays the bill. She smiles back. It looks a bit suggestive to me, but I might be just seeing what I want to see.

  We walk out together, my stomach protesting a bit after such a big meal. I love the feeling though, it happens so rarely I have to enjoy it as often as I can.

  As we walk down the street and Helen keeps her eyes open looking for a cab, the silence between us deepens. She knows all the socially accepted platitudes, but she’s realized that to me, those questions are rude. Basic things like, where did you go to school? Or what was your first job? Are going to result in me connecting to my pain. Past trauma.

  I don’t have a lot of happy memories.

  I can’t believe that she knows this, that she has just picked up on it by thinking about the questions before she asks them. I appreciate it deeply. I’ve often answered those questions just because you’re ‘supposed’ to. They made me uncomfortable every time and I can’t be fucked lying. Why would I bother to make up stories for complete strangers?

  Helen finally hails a cab and we sit in the dark with the streetlights flickering over us.

  “Hey, Helen…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. For this. Dinner and everything.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” She looks away uncomfortably and that’s when I think there might be more to this than what I can see. I mean, I know she might want to fuck. Big deal there. All she has to do is ask. She seems to straight up for that though. Definitely not the type to pick up random girls… From the gutter or from any other place.

  “Is everything okay?” I’m genuinely concerned for her. She seems so uncomfortable.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I can always find somewhere else to stay if you aren’t sure…”

  “No, no. It’s fine. I’m sorry, Roxy, its not you. Even though I am a little nervous. I’m just… Trying to be nice.”

  She takes in a deep sigh that makes me very suspicious. I mean, maybe she’s just tired, but the more I watch her body language, the more I think she’s hiding something.

  She turns her head away, so I do too, even though there’s nothing to see. Cities at night viewed from a fast-moving car are nothing but shadows and smears of light. I let my mind tick over, trying to think about nothing. Before I know it, I’m turning around to look at Helen again.

  She doesn’t look over at me. It bugs me a little. I didn’t think we were going to be perfect friends, but I did feel something.

  The best thing to do is just take her offer of a place to crash and hit the road first thing in the morning. I had nowhere to sleep anyway and there was no chance of finding somewhere so late. Its just good luck. I can’t expect too much, not from Helen or from the world.

  When we pull up at her apartment building, I’m shocked. It’s one of those really fancy places, not a square of concrete dropped into the middle of other Lego blocks. It’s got peaks and gables and scrolled metal work on the balconies. It’s got fucking balconies!

  We go inside, Helen using an ordinary key as well as a code. I’m looking around with wide eyes, just trying to take it in. I wish I could control myself and just be cool but I’m way too impressed for that.

  “Here we are.” Helen says as we enter her place. I think it’s just for something to say. We haven’t said anything to each other for awhile.

  I don’t think its because we have nothing to say. I think its because we are both full of things we can’t say.
<
br />   If I was amazed by the building, I’m stunned by her apartment.

  The living room just rolls out into a little sunken area full of couches that look soft and comfortable, but in vibrant fabric that matches the drapes. The kitchen is modern, shining with steel and chrome. The windows cover one wall, showing a spectacular view of the city. The apartment appears to just go on and on into a back hallway that hides multiple rooms.

  “Whoa.” Is all I can say. Helen smiles warmly.

  “You like it?”

  “Yeah man. I mean, it’s really nice. Lovely.” Shit. Now I’m tripping over myself.

  Why do I even care?

  “Can I get you anything? I’ll be heading off to work pretty early. You can help yourself to whatever you like, but do you need me to show you around?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just head to your bathroom if that’s okay.”

  A bath. What a glorious luxury is a bath. I so rarely get the chance.

  “Oh, the bathrooms just through there. I’ll put out some fresh clothes for you and grab a few blankets.”

  I watch her disappear down the hall. I don’t think anyone has ever been so nice to me.

  I take a few steps down the hallway and push open the bathroom door. I hear a gasp rip out of me as I see the huge sunken tub ringed with fancy soaps and perfumes. I start filling up the bath and the water shoots out hard and hot.

  This is complete luxury. I don’t think I’ve ever had access to such a big bath, let alone six different kinds of soap.

  While I wait for it to fill, I take some of Helen’s make up remover and wipe off my smudged eyeliner. When I see my pale face staring back at me, I almost don’t recognize the girl in the mirror.

  Even though I’m poor, my options aren’t dead. I don’t have to look like a punk rocker. I could look like this. Delicate. Clean. Respectable.

  But I look like a punk on purpose. It keeps dicks off my back and hags out of my way. I need my image. It protects me. No one wants to try and make it past that bitch I present myself to be.

  Helen might.

  I don’t want to think about that.

  I strip off, leaving my clothes in a big pile into the middle of the room. I slip into the tub, sighing with pleasure as the warm, scented bubbles close over my shoulder.

  As I lay back, I feel every single joint crack under the warm caress of the water. A moan slips out of me and I close my eyes, immersing myself in the sensation of being safe, clean and relaxed.

  Maybe, if I could just accept it, this could be heaven. It’s a fantasy, I know. But since I’ve fallen into an impossible situation, maybe its time to believe in some impossible things.

  Nine

  Helen

  I move steadily through my bedtime routine, trying to let the familiar actions soothe me but irritation is itching under my skin and I know I won’t be able to fully calm down.

  It’s a strange situation for me, to be unable to calm myself down. Its also a strange situation to have a woman in my bathtub who I’ve only known for a few hours.

  What the fuck am I doing? Even if I am desperate to take Lisa’s deal, is this girl really the one? Her little nose stud and extra hoops up her ears are cute, but it’s kind of extreme. Her hair is a gorgeous shade of blonde, far paler than mine, but does she have to wear it in spikes?

  No matter how this goes down I’ll have to find her some decent clothes. I don’t think she’s carrying a full wardrobe in that little pack of hers.

  I sit down on the edge of the bed, idly stroking the leg of my pajama pants. I can hear the water roaring into the tub and Roxy starting to sing along to the radio. A smile jumps onto my face.

  She’s genuine. I can tell that. I don’t think there is anything in her but honesty. I appreciate that and admire it, but there is a lot to be desired in her delivery of that truth. My friends will find her confronting. Even if I like her it will be difficult to convince the people close to me that this is my wife and we’ve actually been together for months… Roxy is just one of those people you can’t help but notice.

  I bite my bottom lip gently, pressing it with my teeth. I can hear her in there swishing the water. She’s talking to herself as she goes through my bath salts and oils. I always collect quite a few of these and it sounds like Roxy is using a months worth at once.

  I still feel irritated, but I also find it kind of cute. I’m not sure if this is a growing affection or if I’m just really annoyed.

  But I don’t want her to go away. The very thought of this is enough to draw me to the door and touch it softly. The bathroom is close. I can almost smell the perfumed clouds coming up the hall. I can hear Roxy splashing as she gets in the tub, singing jauntily.

  She’s more than just strange. She’s like some kind of wild creature. I’ve invited a panther into my house. For the first time I start to feel really horrified that I barely know her, and I’ve welcomed her into my house.

  I haven’t even told her what I want from her yet.

  Maybe, I’m not even sure I want it. Parts of me try to struggle with the problem, wanting to get rid of her the second morning comes. The idea of finding another woman to be my wife gives me a quick stab of despair. The whole reason Roxy’s in my bathroom right now is because I HAD no other options.

  With my fingers pressed against the wooden door, I let my thoughts go where they want to go.

  Roxy in my bathtub. That beautiful pale skin. Nails painted crazy black and purple. The tease of tattoos that I noticed here and there. I wonder what they all look like, where they are. How long I could trace them over with my fingers.

  I slam at the door with my palms and take a step back. I’m getting frustrated with myself. This is useless! I’ve always counted on myself, my ability to take all situations with calm and assess them carefully.

  I walk over to bed and pull the covers up over my head. I lay on my side and I take deep breaths, trying to settle myself.

  She’s here now. She’s in my house for better or worse. I might as well ask her what I need to, since we have come this far. Nothing can be achieved by me getting worked up over whether I’ve done the right thing.

  I need to just accept the situation as it is and be honest with myself.

  I wait for the voice of common sense to assail me and tell me first thing in the morning, send her on her way.

  But my little voice isn’t there right now. Or if it is, its not saying what I expected it to.

  I want her to stay. I don’t want to let her out of my sight for a second. The sounds of her splashing in the warm water, slick with oil, is driving me crazy. I reach one hand down and rub my clit gently through the silky pants.

  A moan slips out of me and I rock my hips forward. I listen to Roxy singing along to the radio and I can almost taste her warm wet skin in my mouth.

  I want her, I want her bad. It feels so amazing to admit it. I realize this deal of Lisa’s gave me exactly what I needed to approach Roxy.

  I would have wanted to. No matter what. If I had not been looking for a quick stand in bride, I doubt I would have introduced myself no matter how much I had been drawn to her.

  Now she was in my bathroom, covered in scented oil and no doubt running those beautiful little hands over her tight curves and shapely legs.

  A moan slips through my lips as I rub more firmly at my clit. I can’t explain it. Roxy affects me in an intense way that no one ever has before. Maybe this is the passion everyone has been telling me is missing from my life.

  I never found anything that really excited me. This is like getting run over by a train of passion, overwhelmed, scattered across the track, nothing left but hot pieces that twist and moan and beg for more.

  I turn on my side again, squeezing my legs together. I need to get myself back under control. There is no guarantee that she will decide to stay. She might be totally against the idea of being a fake bride.

  I can’t just think of her as being ‘mine’, not yet. I can’t lie here under hot slick sweat
thinking about fucking her. I order my mind and body to stop this ridiculous throbbing and obey me like they always have.

  But electric fire runs up my pussy and into my clit. The warm trail spreads over my belly and races across my nipples. My head presses against the pillow as I gasp at the ceiling and rub myself against the heel of my hand.

  I don’t even know if Roxy likes me—if she finds me attractive. I know how futile it is to conjure up castles in the future when there is no foundation in reality.

  But for the first time in my life, I don’t care. I just don’t care.

  I shove my hand further down my pants with urgency and rock my hips, letting myself cry out a little as I think of Roxy’s slick, sweet body lathered with oil only a few feet away.

  I forget about getting to sleep and let my lust run through me. Even if it might be hopeless, I can’t stop myself from indulging this fantasy.

  Ten

  Roxy

  I’m caught in the middle of an outrageously good dream. I’m pretty sure it’s a dream, because everything around me is warm and soft. It’s not like being in water, more like being cradled by a massive air bed or one of those inflated kid castles.

  But softer. Sweeter smelling. The comfort wraps around me and I sigh in satisfaction. I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable.

  A sharp clatter streaks through my soft, fuzzy world. There’s a rumbling and a digging. When I open my eyes and look at Helen’s ceiling I realize where I am.

  “Hey!” My mouth is open before I can stop it, “What the fuck!”

  Helen stands in the kitchen, one hand holding the kettle as she stares at me with astonishment.

  “What?” She seems to be having trouble with words.

  “Why the fuck did you wake me up?”

  Helen shakes her head uncertainly. “I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t mean to.”

  “Well you did. I haven’t slept in for such a long time. Fuck.”