From the day she’d pushed that door open, she’d been reading Lily’s blog. The woman had a way with words. The blog’s motto had caught her eye: ‘Demanding exclusivity is madness. Giving it a sin’.
The mysterious Lily made the goings-on at Elsewhere sound normal, almost acceptable. But they weren’t normal. It was a new deliciously wicked world.
Juliet felt she knew the place. Lily had posted photos of the club’s interior. There were no shots of people in there but she could imagine them; especially in the room covered in mirrors. The blog also said that one could go there and just look. One didn’t have to participate. Just look.
Looking was not cheating. Right? Right.
Besides, wasn’t the moon sending her a sign? She could never say no to the moon. Giddy as a teenager, Juliet contemplated her makeup and downed a double vodka. For her nerves.
She went through her closet and chose a racy short black dress, one she hadn’t worn in ages. As she dressed, she tried to convince herself that she wouldn’t be granted access, that it would require a password or a contact on the inside.
Looking was not cheating. Hadn’t she worked hard at her last job? Hadn’t she nursed Nico’s cold? Didn’t she deserve to have some fun? Of course, she did. And anyway, she’d tell Caleb all about it in the morning.
‘Looking was not cheating’ she repeated the mantra as she slipped on a pair of black patent leather heels. Besides, she was sure she would be refused entry because she didn’t know the password and of course, one always needed a password to enter such places. Some kind of open-sesame spy speak. Right?
The bouncer with the dark shades would bar her way and say, ‘The dogs are in the Jacuzzi’ and she would respond with ‘Dogs barking. Can’t fly without an umbrella.’ She giggled. She knew it wouldn’t be the correct response and Mr Dark Shades would frown, become menacing. Her heart would beat faster, her body trembling all the way home. She’d be so ashamed, and she wouldn’t tell a soul about it.
On the other hand, if she did gain entry, well then, she promised to have a good laugh and tell Caleb all about her adventure. They’d laugh about it together.
She opened the metal door.
___________
‘I’m still waiting for your answer, princess. Can you?’
‘Can I what?’
Juliet suspected Caleb was using their trip to the supermarket to tackle the touchy subject that she’d brought up at Irene and Samuel’s party. He always did that. Inside the car, there was no escape, no way to cut the conversation short by running to the bathroom. She would have to answer. One advantage, however, of having a difficult discussion in the car was the ability to avoid eye contact. Somehow it made it easier to communicate. It kept things detached. In the car, emotions stayed in check, avoiding both escalations and pitfalls.
‘Don’t be obtuse,’ he said keeping his eyes on the road. ‘Can you watch me fuck another woman?’
‘I thought about it,’ she took a deep breath, ‘we love each other. We’re committed for life and in my experience, we’ve never undermined each other... Since I know all that, I also know that nothing is more capricious or has more permutations than desire. And so... yes, I think I could... I can see you fucking another woman. I may even like it. In fact, I’m almost sure I would.’
‘Seriously?’
‘Yep.’
‘Well, I couldn’t,’ he said gripping the steering wheel, ‘no way. I’ve thought a lot about it too... it would hurt... to the core. I’d end up wanting to smash everything.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she stroked his thigh, ‘believe me, I wanted to come to the same conclusion as you, but we promised to always tell each other the truth. Didn’t we?’
‘Yes.’ They drove in silence for a while. ‘I love you princess and I need you more than anyone but... if you want...’ he hesitated, laying his hand over hers, ‘if you feel you want to explore... I’m ok with it.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. But please don’t tell me. Ever. I don’t want to know.’
‘I... I don’t...’
‘Don’t say anything,’ he glanced at her and smiled.
Juliet loved her husband, more than anyone, more than anything. No one understood her like he did. He accepted her for who and what she was. A wave of lust rushed through her as she admired his handsome profile. She wanted him to stop the car and take her by the side of the road. But she worried he would think she’d turned into a psycho. Or a pervert. So she kept quiet.
They drove the rest of the way to the supermarket in silence.
___________
‘Don’t you agree?’ Mr Chinless insisted.
‘Sure,’ Juliet replied, only half listening. Why of all nights was it her lot to bump into a dickhead.
Was there an invisible sign on her forehead flashing ‘Assholes’ this way? Was the universe trying to tell her something? Nevertheless, she had to concede, the dickhead had a point. Fidelity was an illusion. A farce. A cosmic joke. Lily was right when she wrote in her blog that Demanding exclusivity is madness. Giving it a sin.
There was no logic in two sane adults pledging eternal faithfulness. Promising to always love one another and never to desire anyone else. It made no sense to demand complete fidelity from one’s spouse. It was akin to starving them of the affection of others. The idea was stupid. Of course, many couples stayed faithful. But at the most basic level, humans behaved like the mammals they were. The female’s nesting instinct demanded security, while the male’s basic urge was to spread his seed far and wide. No doubt to make sure that his descendants, and humanity as a whole, survived. Juliet giggled. But what about the fascinating people who crossed our paths and inflamed our desires? Didn’t fantasies exist to be made real? Shouldn’t her love for Caleb encourage her desire to love all men? Magazine surveys were always asking about sex and desire. Oh, and about Brad Pitt. It was all about turning women on. If Brad Pitt stood in front of most women, she’d bet her bottom dollar they would all say... well, they’d say ‘yes,’ even if they loved their partners.
‘Do you promise to remain unfaithful?’ Mr Chinless asked.
‘Sure.’
___________
‘Thirty centimetres?’
‘So yeah, as long as the guy is standing thirty centimetres away from me, then Sam has no problem. The guy could declare his love for me, for all Sam cares, as long as he abides by the boundary. But woe betides him should he take one step across the imaginary line. First, he gives the man his best poisonous look,’ she said, her eyes turning flinty in imitation of Samuel’s. ‘And if that doesn’t do the trick, and the guy moves to the twenty-five centimetres limit, Sam goes into his frothing, enraged bull impersonation.’ Irene mimed the nostril flare with spittle forming at the edges of her mouth.
Juliet choked on her rosé.
‘If the poor sod gets within twenty centimetres of me, that’s when Sam loses control and begins circling menacingly,’ Irene said, then sighed. ‘Then we have to talk about it for the next week.’
‘What happens if the guy gets to the fifteen centimetres line?’
‘That’s never happened, darling. If it had, I might not be here talking to you.’
‘Six feet under, eh? Seriously?’
‘Or I’d end up visiting Sam in prison.’
‘Well, you know, he may have a point. Twenty centimetres is pretty close,’ Juliet said, bringing her face close to Irene’s.
‘A little more.’
‘Yeah, that’s about it. That’s around twenty centimetres.’
‘That’s pretty close.’
‘You’re beautiful, you know that?’
‘You too, darling. Closer...’
‘Yeah, I think that’s fifteen...’
‘It’s crazy, fifteen’s not a lot...’
‘Ten...’
‘You know we haven’t French-kissed in years.’
‘We don’t drink as much anymore,’ Juliet said as they moved away from each other.
They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the twilight. Irene drained her glass and said, ‘hmm this rosé’s not too bad.’
‘It’s the damn bubbles. They make you feel good inside. You wanna open the other bottle?’