Make Believe Wife Page 8

  Before, I was always scared. Scared that I would miss a signal and not stop when I should. Scared that maybe I couldn’t stop. Scared that I wouldn’t do enough to satisfy my partner.

  With Roxy, all I need is to see how her skin responds. As I tighten the ropes around her perky little breasts and draw her arms behind her back, she sighs in pleasure. She’s a perfect bunny, still but supple. She gives when it’s needed and holds firm when I push against her to make a knot.

  I fit the front comfortably in lines above and below her breasts, but this is only the anchor. The real beauty I spin at Roxy’s back, tying her forearms in a line and then making a spiral on the connecting lines.

  By the time I’m done a beautiful spider web shape stretches across Roxy’s shoulder blades. I’m very pleased with my work but it’s not until I take a step back that I realize the symbolism.

  Roxy. Caught in my web.

  Does that make me a spider?

  I push the thought away as I reach for my phone. I point it up and let it focus just to test the light. Roxy looks over her shoulder in that exact second, face calm and composed. I take the shot and I can’t believe how perfect it is. The tie is hauntingly visible in the light coming through the window. Roxy’s skin is as pale as the moon and glowing even brighter. The expression on her face is a mixture of sensuality and calm.

  I move around her a few times, gently positioning her to get different angles and light. I prop the phone on the windowsill and take a few with a timer, showing the side of my face or the cascade of my pink dress next to Roxy’s tied form.

  I leave the camera on as I lean closer to her. I cup her cheek and kiss her, feeling her gently sway back and forth to keep her balance. I run my fingers over her hair and then gently start to undo the knots.

  I take my time running my hands over Roxy’s body. I press my palms against her arms as I pull the web pattern free. She smiles as I caress her, both of us knowing how close we are to just falling into a wet pile on the floor.

  When I finally pull the rope off and Roxy pulls on my old robe, I sit down with her so we can look at the photos. Roxy simply says they are good and goes back to her coffee.

  But I can’t stop looking at them. They are so good I can’t believe I took them. I’ve always been a fair photographer and I was looking forward to developing my own section so I could practice my photography even more.

  These are amazing, and it’s not all me. I think because I had such an amazing subject, I took more care than I ever had before.

  But Roxy is the star. Her gentle poses, relaxed muscles. Her sweet expressions that look submissive and sweet yet somehow fierce at the same time.

  I watch her curling up on my lounge, so exhausted she barely even says goodnight. I just look at her, unable to believe that such a perfect woman just fell into my lap.

  My disbelief is my enemy. It will only lead me to ruin, and I won’t let that happen. I’ve been searching my whole life for someone like her. Someone that pushes me and dares me to be more than I think I can be.

  I’m afraid that if I go to sleep, I’ll wake and she’ll be gone, as illusive and fleeting as a sensual dream.

  Eighteen

  Roxanne

  When I wake the next morning, sunlight is streaming through the big side window. When I try to sit up the mother of all headaches stabs me right in the eyes. I hear my own moan echo around the room.

  My mouth is dry, my stomach is trying to crawl out and relocate itself somewhere high in my chest. I stagger up to my feet and groan again.

  When I stop to give my feet a moment to steady up, I look at the space under the window where Helen tied me last night.

  In the softly lit dark, the shaft of light from outside made the apartment ethereal. I had been so tired and drunk that the entire experience slipped by with an essence of the sublime. Just thinking about it now my skin wakes up and my nipples pucker.

  But now I’m literally seeing it in the harsh light of day. I don’t know if it’s the hangover or just plain reality, but the entire experience seems to have tilted.

  I struggle my way to the bathroom. I’m not going to be sick, but my stomach is heaving. I get into the shower and the warm water instantly makes me feel better. I stand under it long enough to get my shoulders and arms loosening up, then start washing my hair.

  The sound of the water pounding the glass doors is rhythmic and soothing. It’s like being inside your own little world in the shower, a tiny place where you can’t see or hear what’s happening outside. Most of us find it comforting.

  Usually I would too. Especially being in a bathroom as nice as this with no checkout time or people banging on the door telling me it’s their turn.

  But I’m worried. I only remember last night in little snippets. I know I was laughing too loud and waving my arms and falling off my high heels. I know that Helen was happy at dinner. I know we did a tie and we didn’t have sex.

  So why do I feel so upset? Is it because we didn’t fuck? I know I wanted to. I think she did too. But why didn’t we?

  And why do I feel it would be worse if we had?

  I get out of the shower slowly, wrapping in one of Helens thick towels then finding her robe. If I had any money, I’d buy her a new one to make up for stealing this one from her.

  I haven’t checked the time, but the sun looks high. It’s probably late morning. Helen must have gone to work. While I make a coffee, I think about texting her.

  What the fuck am I going to say?

  Anything I’ve got to talk about can certainly wait until she gets home. I’m not that desperate. Besides, I don’t even know what I want to say yet.

  I take my time drinking my coffee and looking around. The place is still a mess and I start tidying up, just a little. I’m not good at this stuff. I decide to wash my clothes and in the stack of stuff Helen gave me I find a black pair of pants and a grey blouse that I can live with.

  I’m not putting on a goddamn bra though. Nothing will convince me to wear one of those maniacal torture devices.

  Finding the washing machine proves to be exceptionally difficult, until I realize there must be a laundry room or service somewhere in the building. I leave the dirty cloths in a bundle and keep cleaning up.

  I’m actually shocked by how much mess I’ve made. Candy wrappers everywhere, biscuit crumbs, small puddles of champagne. I sure do know how to make a mess.

  Maybe that’s all I’m good at. Making huge fucking messes. At least this time, I’m cleaning it up myself.

  I find the work somehow satisfying. My mind clears as the thoughts run through it. There are things that I have to accept.

  I love it here. The beautiful apartment, the safety of it, Helen taking care of me—I love it all.

  I’ve never felt like this before. Even with Karen it seemed like a temporary stop. I knew it wasn’t forever, because nothing ever is.

  And that’s my problem. I desperately want this to be forever.

  But Helen can’t possibly want me. She’s just using me for this deal with her boss. I suppose after she’s got her section and it’s all a done deal, we’ll get a divorce or something.

  Then where will I go?

  The thought depresses me so much that I focus on scrubbing a particularly bad stain from the carpet. Erase myself from Helen. Just like this stain on the floor.

  Since I slept in so long, it’s only a few more hours until Helen gets home. Once I have the apartment pretty clean, I can’t settle myself. I want to be that careless, flippant freak who got stupidly drunk and trashed the place just a day ago. That girl would walk out of here with a wave and a wink of her cheek.

  I feel helpless. I feel trapped.

  I want to run, but I can’t.

  When Helen finally walks through the door, my heart leaps in my chest and I feel it turn into a smile. The smile she gives me in return is warm and intimate and when we come together to hug, I can feel that magnetism between us, pulling our bodies together.

  I l
ean against her, basking in her scent. Our lips touch lightly, briefly, then we pull apart.

  “The place looks great Roxy, thank you.”

  “Sure, yeah. It’s cool.”

  Helen starts unpacking the groceries and I go to help. I can make decent pasta sauce; I’ve been a cook once or twice.

  While we chop herbs and process tomatoes Helen keeps up a sparkling dialogue. I’m glad she doesn’t seem to need my input because I haven’t got much to say. She’s going on about the magazine and her special section.

  I understand that it’s important to her, but I don’t get the details. When she starts talking about the photos she took of me, I feel a bit sick.

  That moment was one of the most important of my life. Feeling the silky caress of the rope on my skin as my wrists pressed against the tension. Helen’s hands sweeping across my body. The silence of the night in the pale light.

  I just nod and smile, focusing on the garlic bread. A couple of times Helen stops and raises a hand as if to touch me or ask me something but doesn’t.

  It really is just as I feared. She is trying to figure out a way to get rid of me. She just doesn’t know how to say it. Maybe she wants me to stick around for photos or something.

  I should run. As soon as possible.

  We sit down to eat, and Helen just keeps talking. She’s really blooming into a new person and I’m happy that I had something to do with that. She seems confident and strong, ready to show herself to the world instead of just getting along with it.

  I can’t shake the sadness that’s tearing my heart in two. I’ve never, ever cared about being on my own before. Never gave a fuck about having to run, to move. I was happy, dammit, I was fine!

  Why did she have to come along with her beautiful place and her clothes and ropes… Why did she have to let me fall in love with her before she threw me away?

  No. It’s not her fault. It’s mine. I should have been keeping a firmer grip on myself. I can’t blame Helen. I don’t think I could ever blame her for anything.

  I watch her eating and I love the way her tongue creeps to the edge of her mouth. She grins at me and I immediately grin back. I can’t help it.

  My heart will always belong to her. But I can’t stay. Not as a fake bride. As much as I want to help her, this is one job I just can’t do.

  Nineteen

  Helen

  All day at work, I can’t wait to get home to Roxy.

  I was very careful not to wake her up. I slipped out of the apartment like a cat. Even though I wanted to hug her and kiss her I remember how pissed she got about being woken up early, so I just hold in my affectionate urges. By tonight, they’ll be keener and so much sweeter.

  No matter what she needs, I’m determined to give it to her. I know we are going to be great together and I’m amazed at myself for feeling this way.

  All I know for sure is that this doesn’t feel like any of my previous relationships. Maybe I’m too innocent, maybe I believe too strongly in the impossible. It really doesn’t matter.

  I want Roxy and I know she wants me.

  My day at work is not boring in the slightest. I start editing my photos right away and Lisa is amazed by them. Roxy is a natural model, her poses relaxed and graceful. At one point Lisa actually jumps up and down with a little squeal, hugging me tight.

  “I’m so happy that this happened for you Helen!” I can feel her enthusiasm through the hug. Knowing that she genuinely cares for me makes me blush. Even though we’ve always been friends, this seems to have brought us even closer together.

  For the majority of the day, it seems like everyone in the office needs me for something. I didn’t know running my own section would be so difficult, but suddenly editors are screaming at me from every direction. I expect to fold under it but instead I thrive. The more I get, the more I want.

  I keep one eye on the clock. I can’t wait to get home to my girl. My body is practically singing with joy—I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

  Just before it’s time to close Lisa pulls me into her office to look at wedding dresses. She asks me if we are both going to wear one.

  My stomach drops out in horror. I should know this. If I’ve really been with Roxy for months—not days—then I should know.

  But I don’t know.

  “I’m not sure.” I try to sound confident. “We haven’t really decided.”

  Lisa just grins and shakes her head.

  “I just wanted to offer to buy one for you. Take this home with you and take a look. I’ll cover the cost of a dress so if you both want to be in white you only have one to pay for.”

  My throat closes up. “That’s lovely of you, Lisa.” I’m truly torn by her generosity, especially because there still is no wedding. We just loosely said we hadn’t picked a date.

  But having the slick pages of a magazine under my fingers makes it real. I’ve been walking on air since last night after the tie. I just assumed that this was all real now.

  What if its not?

  What if I’m imagining everything?

  Will I get home today to find the place in a worse mess? Will she have lifted all my stuff? I still don’t know enough about her and this realization comes with a horrific twist of self doubt.

  I’ve gotten hurt before. I could easily get hurt again. I shouldn’t assume anything.

  “Helen? You got lost between the pages there, honey.”

  “Oh, sorry.” I give my head a little shake. “Got lost thinking about venue.”

  “Totally understandable! It’s nearly five. Why don’t you get out of here? You must be desperate to get home to your wife.” Lisa gives me a big wink.

  “Yeah. I am.” I can smile and I can say that. It is the truth, after all.

  “Take the book with you. Have a good time picking one out then send me the details. I’ll make sure it ordered for you.”

  “Okay.” I tuck the magazine into my bag and leave, giving her a quick wave. I can’t speak, my voice will break the second I try and give me away.

  Because all I want is to go home and look at wedding dresses with my soon to be bride. But is she?

  I realize that I need to talk to her. Even though it makes me horribly nervous, I know I can’t keep planning a future that might not exist. I’ve been having so much fun I really didn’t stop to think about anything going wrong.

  While I’m at the market I stare venomously at the shelves as if they could absorb my frustration. I just end up breaking a nail.

  Going up to the apartment feels like moving through depths of heavy, dark water. I’m eager to see her. I have no idea what’s going to happen when I do.

  But when I open the door, the apartment is completely clean. I almost have tears in my eyes I’m so touched. Roxy must really want to stay if she’s making this much effort.

  But she doesn’t call out to me as I come in. She comes to greet me but only smiles and gives me a quick hug before moving away.

  Now I’m nervous. Nervous enough that I don’t want to have the conversation. It’s cowardly and it sucks, but now I just can’t speak.

  This is how much Roxy affects me. All day I was prepared to have a real talk, lay our intentions on the table.

  One sly glance and I’m a jabbering wreck.

  While we cook dinner, she barely says a word. We eat and try to watch TV, but she still won’t talk to me. The panic that starts to rise in me is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. All the emotional responses that I kept at bay most of my life are teeming through my nervous system just at the slightest flash of Roxy’s eyes.

  I want to show her the book. Tell her that Lisa will buy one of our dresses. Maybe she’d like to wear a suit, I don’t know. I’d like to find out.

  Now I’m terrified that she’ll just point at any one and say ‘yeah well its fake. So, it doesn’t matter.’ This scene plays over in my mind until I’m positive this is what she will say.

  When we sit down to watch TV, she doesn’t sit next to me. I try to draw
her into a conversation about the reality shows, but she keeps me at bay with one-word answers.

  I can’t expect someone I picked up out of the gutter such a short time ago to just fall in love with me. When I examine the thought, I realize how utterly absurd that is. I’m a hopeless romantic, clearly. A little intimacy and shared giggles and I’m anyone’s. I didn’t realize I was that easy.

  Maybe, for Roxy I am.

  As I stare at the TV, I feel a great space opening up around me. It’s full of pain and fear and now I know why I worked so hard on my calm every day of my life.

  Because all those around me always seemed to be in terrible pain. Joy, loss, love. All I could see around me was people twisted into horrible shapes by their own feelings. I refused to let that happen to me. But here I am.

  I glance to the side and take in Roxy’s beautiful profile. She looks like a pixie, a slightly devilish one. Depending on how the light hits her features, she looks heavenly or mischievous. Always beautiful.

  She doesn’t look at me. She looks into her lap and picks at a nail.

  I feel rejection weighing heavily in my chest. I don’t know how to do this. How can I fake being her wife now? All I want is to hold her in my arms. How can I stand by her side and hold her and kiss her and not love her?

  When I go to bed, I snap my mouth shut on the words I want to say. If Roxy wants her space, she can have it. I traversed the miles over to her once. Unless I know I’m going to be welcomed, I won’t make that journey again.

  Twenty

  Roxanne

  We both went to bed pretty early. It was like having my suspicions confirmed when she got home. She clearly didn’t want to talk to me. It made me so miserable I could barely eat.

  I’m not good at faking responses. I just tell people what I think. It was probably a good thing that I was drunk the other night. It gave me the courage to fall in love with Helen, at least enough to fool her boss.