The Game Of Lust

An Unforgettable Night

Alfred's POV

“Maggie! I was just talking about you!” Andre uttered giddily and collected Marget into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him and her mouth widened in a hearty laughter which caused wrinkles to form at the corners of her eyes. I had never seen her express so much joy in all our time together. I was forced to believe that Margret was incapable of such natural traits. I had grown use to her coldness towards me and seeing her give a little as a smile and a laugh made me sick with anger.

I stood and watched them, my fists were clenched and my teeth gnashed. Something grew in me and it wasn't anger alone or something as simple as jealousy, it was hate. I instantly wished to leave at once before he would offer to shake me with his filthy hands. I fought the urge to pull her out of his arms and walk out of the place. I was revisited by all the things Louie had told me about them, I inspected the movements closely watching if anything was out of place. The way he looked at her, the way he hugged her and who exactly he was to her.

“Why did I agree to this? ” I asked myself, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance.

“Oh right, This is Alfred Dalton,” Margret finally introduced me, “He's a great writer .”

“I'm also her husband,” I added, stretching my lips into the most believable smile I could muster up. Andre paused for moment, like he'd realized something crucial, “How could I forget such a character?” he smiled but his smile needed a lot of work, Between his lips was a flickering scowl. I decided to shake his hand before he would offer his, to prove to myself that I wasn't jealous of him.

He shrugged away slightly,

“Um … Andre doesn't like to shake hands,” Margret mentioned, watching my hand hang in the air. I retracted my hand back into my pocket, dismayed by his lack of courtesy.

“Excuse me, I was have certain issues that restrains me from physical touch,” He said calmly.

I found that hard to believe, he simply didn't wish to touch me, my filty hands perhaps. I saw very clearly, the way he embraced my wife. perhaps Margret wasn't part of the majority he found irritating.

“I see.”

“Margret tells me you're a writer, I believe I may have read some of your books,”Andre said, he picked up two glasses of wine from a server passing by. He handed one to Margret and held onto the other.

“I believe I've read The Dancing Tulips, one of your first books, Margret made me read it.”

“And what did you think of it?” I asked tartily.

“It was a brilliant book," he answered, stretching his lips into another fake smile. Andre looked around and walked to a table containing copys of his new book. He picked up a copy and walked back in majestic strides.

He handed me the book with a proud look on his face. I looked down at the book in my hand. ‘Below Her wings’

The next page had the reviews of well known writers on it “A heart warming and magnificently written erotica.” I turned to Margret whom he'd earlier called his inspiration.

“Please allow me to steal her away for a moment, ” he said and before I could politely disagree, he took her hand and led her away.

I stood there like a lost child in a crowd of people I did not know. It brought back memories of my time in the spotlight, I looked around, the posters hanging had the red cover of the book on them, “The greatest book of our time,” they said. I rolled my eyes in disagreement.

After an hour I made myself comfortable standing by the bar where I had more glasses of champagne than I needed and no one was there, breathing down my neck and yet I couldn't help but wish for it. My mind clouded by thoughts of Andre and Margret, the words he said in his speech haunted me greatly. Louie was right in the end, Andre had more of my wife than I could ever get. I held the glass between my fingers, so tightly I could feel it crack. I look down at the book again and grew sour, perhaps they'd left me behind to jump into ever possible conclusion. Another hour went by, it had already been two and a half hours since they left, the event was coming to an end and Margret was no where in sight. I began to feel rather tipsy, I put down the glass and sat on the nearest available chair. Suddenly a lady sat beside me. Looking at her I found her eyes on me as well, “Hi I'm Berth!”

She smiled and stretched her hand towards me, I took her hand and shook it weakly. “I'm….”

“Jake Solivan!” she uttered giddily, taking the words out of me. I stared blankly at her till I realized that she'd called me by my pen name. “I'm glad there's at least someone here who knows me, ” I chuckled.

“Can you sign my book?” she said stretching out her copy of Richardson's erotica.

“Of course! ” I collected the book and flipped to the very last page; Berth handed me a pen. I signed in the book with very large pen strokes as if doing so would somehow satisfy my anger. “Here you go,” I said, returning the book.

“Thank so much! ” She snickered and pulled me into an unexpected hug. “You're … welcome,” I uttered through the suffocating hug.

She released me and quickly stood, pulling down her black dress which had rolled up her thighs. I noticed Margret approaching as Berth shuffled away. “Can we go now?” I blurted out, before turning to find a smile on her face, but she wasn't smiling at my words, she was smiling at whatever played in her head, she in fact didn't hear a word I'd said. From the look in her eyes I could tell that she'd drifted away into a pleasant memory that perhaps cause her to smile in such a flustered way.

She looked up and found me watching her quizzically.

“Lets go,” she cleared her throat and said before tottering away. I stood there, wondering if her smile was a result of Andre's flirtatious manner. Something was going on between them I could feel it somehow. I could also feel my back hurting from all the hours of standing uncomfortably waiting for Andre to release my wife to me.

In the car, I drove home silently, I was too annoyed to speak to her and I already had it at the back of my mind that she would respond coldly or simply not respond at all. Perhaps she invited me there to insult me, to mock me with Richardson who from the look in her eye's, she'd already affirmed him a better man and a better writer than I could ever have been. She leaned her head back and relaxed it on the seat.

“What is that?” she asked looking over to the crochet sunflower hanging from the rearview mirror.

“It's a Sunflower,” I answered

She leaned forward and held it between her fingers. “It's very lovely,”

“Thank you,” I replied colourlessly.

she exhaled tiredly and released it from her grip, it returned to its post where it to dangled happily.

I look over to the dashboard and found the copy of Richardson's Below her wings, situated on the top. I slowly whined down the window beside me, I snatched the book and threw it out the window. It was late at night and luckily for me I couldn't tell where it landed, it was surprisenly the most satisfying thing I'd done all night.

“Why did you do that Alfred!” Margret yelled, facing me with her eyes wide open from shock.

“Why did you invite me? ” I asked, with my eyes fixed on the road.

“I … I thought it would be nice, for god's sake.”

“You know what would have been nice?!” I snapped “If you had actually cared about my feelings.”

She paused and watched me.

“You invited me to meet your friends but you couldn't even introduced me and you wouldn't stay with me for a minute. I stood there and waited for you for almost three hours! Margret, I waited hoping that at some point, you'd realize that I exist somewhere and you'd come back but instead you took your precious time and you had a lovely evening away from me,” my voice softened and I felt my eyes watering.

“Alfred?” she called in a consoling tone, I looked away and continued,

“I hope you're happy with yourself , I really do cause I want nothing more than to make you happy but it's so damn impossible!” I slowed down and stopped the car.

“Alfred wait.” she said, taking her hand to the steering wheel hand, she placed it on mine. “I agree with whatever perception you have of me, I know I'm a really horrible man In fact I'm the last man you'd ever want to marry,” I muttered.

“Stop saying that, ” she replied.

“I guess Richardson is pay back for what happened at our wedding and on our honeymoon as well.”

“Alfred! Please!” She raised her voice. I turned to her.

“I'm not wrong, it's written all over your face,” I said and there was a brief moment of silence right before I opened the door and let myself out of the car. “Alfred stop this for God's sake,” she yelled, I shut the door and crossed the busy road to the other side of the street, I walked on in increasing effort and didn't look back.

I couldn't bare to let her see the part of me, no woman had ever seen, I would not let her see me vulnerable. Truthfully no woman had ever made me feel as rejected and as worthless as Margret did. I looked around and I soon realized that I didn't know where I was. There were lights all around from shops and restaurants and people walking about. I took out my phone but didn't know who to call. Huey would scold me and call me silly names for leaving my lovely wife behind, I couldn't call Jimmy he'd be too busy nursing his bossy pregnant girlfriend and besides I couldn't spend the night at their place, Kimberly would make it a night to remember and the night already unforgettable. Hunter was out of the question, he had a bunch of odd looking roommates and I really didn't wish for more entertainment. I prayed in my heart that Margret wouldn't report my emotional outburst to my understanding mother, I'd simply never hear the end of it. She couldn't hate me that much, could she?, I asked myself. After giving it much thought I was left with only one option, and that l, was calling Regina to my rescue. I prepared myself for a humiliating night, knowing Regina would ridicule me and laugh to her heart's content.