‘I just don’t know how you stand it, all those rules!’

‘Yeah but you don’t see his good side. He’s really considerate and caring, you know.’ Helen protested. And you don’t see all the ways he’s controlling you, thought Liz, but this time to herself.

There was no convincing Helen that Jeff wasn’t the love of her life. Liz had tried often enough, and it either ended up with distance between her and Helen, or with someone crying, more often than not her. They’d find themselves talking about her loneliness and when she left she would feel that there was something almost sanctimonious about the way Helen stood at the door. She had her man, her stance declared; she was no failure in love. Liz groaned inwardly at the prospect of another one of those kinds of evenings, and decided to draw a line under the discussion there and then.

They had a pleasant enough time - one civilised bottle of wine between them and decent food - although neither seemed to want to linger and they left left earlier and more sober than usual. There’d been plenty to talk about but they were careful to steer clear for once of the danger zones of their friendship. Liz’s comment had hung in the air.

Helen couldn’t get Liz’s words out of her head once she was back at home by herself. She was agitated, unable even to let herself go in a fantasy of Jeff and his hands on her. They’d had sex the night before anyway, and she was satisfied enough. Their sex was good, she thought to herself. She wore his desire for her with pride whenever she walked down the street, showing herself off to other men, and women. She always orgasmed when they had sex, although she did sometimes think that it was always in more or less the same way, and always in the bedroom. He was a bit funny about doing it in other places, especially in the kitchen or the bathroom. He liked to hold her under him on the bed, and touch her with his fingers or his mouth. He liked her to come before penetration (that’s how he talked about it), enjoying that he could make her body respond to his technique. It was good but left her with the feeling that life with Jeff might become too polished somehow, then shiny, then worn.

***

‘It’s a great place! Thanks for bringing me here.’ Jeff had superb taste in restaurants, read all the reviews, and never ordered the wrong thing. He was always familiar with the menu beforehand and went to lengths to know what was to be recommended. He usually ordered for her. What was the point in arguing when he knew so much more. And he hated it when she was disappointed after making her own choices. So they’d just got into this habit. She didn’t really mind, just felt a shadow of constraint every now and then, but this was quickly dispelled by the always excellent wine and service. Not like the places she went to with Liz. She felt relaxed in those places though, drinking in gulps and chatting with her mouth full.

It was supposed to be a special evening tonight. Jeff was going away for three weeks for a case in the Far East and the time difference meant they wouldn’t have much contact. The pressure of the occasion made her feel a bit edgy but the first course had gone well and she was looking forward to the seafood stew. In fact as soon as it arrived, she forgot the conversation. Jeff looked at her for a while.

‘You know, I have an almost visceral reaction when you do that.’

‘What?’

‘Well, it’s probably just how I was brought up but it turns my stomach to see you lick sauce off your fingers, especially in a restaurant.’

‘I’m just enjoying the meal, Jeff. I’ve got a good appetite tonight!’

‘Yeah, well, it’s uhm, it’s just not how I like to see you.’

‘I see.’ She looked up at the ceiling trying to absorb what she’d just heard, and as her mind rearranged things, Jeff’s version of her came into focus, the version of herself fashioned by him. Then she looked straight at him. God, how pitiful that he needed to spoil her pleasure, urge her to hold herself back like that. And yes, frankly, judge her.

‘Well, that really is a shame,’ she said flatly. She looked back at her plate and smiled, mostly to herself, as she picked up an especially fat prawn by the tail. She closed her eyes as she felt the flavour hit the different parts of her palate. The thick sauce was all around her lips and some of the juices had started to run down her chin. She caught them just in time with her tongue. Next she cleaned up her fingers, sucking them carefully. Then she looked up, glorious in her satisfaction.

25 May 2007 – 830 words