Three – Owned
David Sykes drove home. He took the usual route along the A421 from Bedford, heading east towards St Neots. He cut the corner, dodging the Black Cat roundabout to use a complex system of back-doubles and lesser-known roads until he hit the A1 southbound at Wyboston. From there he could think, just cruise down the dual-carriageway on automatic pilot until the Sainsbury’s roundabout at Biggleswade.
Two months, it had been two months since the catastrophic episode with the two men and his wife, and David had had enough. It was time to put the thing behind them. Emma hadn’t let him near her in eight weeks – not a look, a touch, a kiss. Nothing.
He could understand her being pissed off. It had been a stupid idea, and it certainly hadn’t met his expectations. He still reddened with humiliation when he recalled the scene he’d endured. Nathaniel had just taken over, completely dominated the situation. And Emma had been so enthusiastic at the time, had really gone for it. But afterwards, the immediate aftermath and the days that followed … she was like a stranger.
Yes, it was his fault, he would admit to all of it if he could just get Emma to sit down and listen.
Which was what he envisioned for that evening.
It was Friday, no work in the morning, he would convince his wife to sit down, to have a drink, and listen to him.
“I don’t want a drink. I don’t want to sit down and listen to anything you’ve got to say.”
David blinked, shocked by his wife’s emphatic tone. She was really determined.
“But…” David began, only to be cut off before he could say another word.
“I’m going out tomorrow,” Emma said. “I’ll be away for the weekend.”
David followed Emma from the living room to the kitchen. “What?” he said. “Where are you going? I … I don’t understand, Emma … Can’t we just <i>talk</i>?” David began to babble, desperate to make the woman listen. “You don’t have to run away,” he jabbered.
Emma stood in front of the sink, her fingers curled over the marble work top, knuckles white as she held it all in.
“I’m sorry, Em. For what I made you do. I didn’t think it would turn out the way it did. I was only trying to jazz things up between us. It was supposed to be the three of us – me, you and … and…” David sighed, a heavy distressed sound as he ran his fingers through his hair. “It was only meant to be a bit of fun.”
Emma heard the pathetic whine as David’s plea tapered. Disgust for him curled her upper lip.
“It was fun,” she said, whirling round to face her husband. Emma laughed, a gleeful cackle, almost manic as she bared her teeth in a wild grin.
David blinked and stepped back a pace, unsure in the face of that crazed grimace. He glanced left and right, looking for anything Emma might use as a weapon.
“I loved it, David,” spat Emma. “I got well and truly fucked.” Emma’s face tilted, she regarded David with an up-and-under look, her brow furrowed. “You <i>were</i> there, weren’t you?” she said, as though speaking to an idiot. “You saw what happened? You heard everything that was said?”
David gulped and nodded. “Yes.”
Emma sniffed and tossed her head, flicking her hair out of her eyes. She straightened her back, standing upright as though strengthening her resolve.
“Well … things have moved on since then.”
It had to be said. Emma couldn’t keep it all bottled up any longer.
“What? Emma,” David was saying, “what are you talking about? I … I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been having an affair, David.”
The words came at him like bullets. He flinched, shocked at the vehemence in Emma’s tone.
But he had known it all along. If he was honest with himself, he had known his wife had gone back for more. It was obvious really.
“With Nathaniel?” David asked.
He swallowed again. Did he really want to know?
Emma hesitated. The moment of truth was upon her. She had had it all rehearsed, had sensed David’s restlessness and known the confrontation was inevitable. She had it prepared inside her head, but it was so difficult.
“Yes,” she breathed. A pause before she added, “And Philip, too.”
“Oh God,” David mumbled, wincing. He yanked a chair from beneath the kitchen table. “Both of them?” David collapsed onto the chair, his eyes on his wife. “You’ve been sleeping with both of them?”
Contempt for her husband’s weakness clotted inside Emma. Why did he just sit there and take it? She couldn’t imagine Nathaniel acting that way. He would fight; there was no way he would sit still while his wife admitted adultery.
Not that Nathaniel was the type of man to get married, and even if he was, Emma doubted his wife would have any reason to stray. A man like Nathaniel provided everything, the exception being, probably, love. Nathaniel wasn’t a loving man. But, Emma had reasoned, she’d married for love – and look how that was turning out.
She stabbed the blade of her disdain into her husband’s ego. “I met them in a hotel in Stevange and let them both fuck me.”
David groaned with despair, head in his palms and elbows on the table.
The sight of his capitulation enraged Emma, she twisted the knife, gouging at the wound.
“I met the two of them in that hotel, David, and I let them <i>use</i> me. I put it all out there for them. They fucked me and fucked me; they fucked my mouth and my pussy, David. I let them have me and I fucking <i>loved</i> it. Those boys know how to do it. They battered my cunt and came and came. I could hardly walk afterwards. I was covered in their spunk; the stuff was dripping out of me.”
Reeling, shocked by Emma’s explicit revelation, David mumbled, “I…”
He paused, images of his wife’s adultery rolling in front his mind’s eye.
For a reason he couldn’t fathom later, when, the following day, Saturday, in the grip of his hangover as he analysed his thoughts and feelings, David blurted, “I could have come with you. I would have been there too, with you and the others.”
Emma laughed, scoffing at the absurdity of David’s suggestion.
“Why on <i>Earth</i> would I want you there, David?” Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “I had two black cocks … Big fucking cocks … What use did I have for you?”
David wilted beneath the weight of his wife’s haughty disdain. Emma glared at him.
“There’s more than that,” she snapped, her voice dripping with scorn. “I went to a house in Stratford. Philip picked me up from here. He drove me down to a dingy little street where they keep a gorgeous blonde woman. I watched Nathaniel fuck the arse off her. I saw him pump her full of come. It was so fucking sexy seeing them together that I begged Philip to do it to me too.”
“No,” David sighed, his face a distraught disc, mouth open, eyes red-rimmed and staring. “Please, no, you’re making it up.”
“No I’m not,” replied Emma, her head moving side-to-side, “I can promise you that. Then, after Philip fucked me, after he squirted his spunk into me, after Tia and I put on a little girl-on-girl show for the boys, three more men arrived. There were three more black men there, David … And I fucked them all.”
“No,” whispered David, “say it isn’t so.”
But Emma was in full flow. She wanted to hurt him, to dig at him with her taunts. Emma wanted David to know it all – every last sordid, depraved detail. Emma’s nostrils flared and she folded her arms beneath her breasts. Her chin came up, a defiant gesture before she glared at the shell of her husband for long seconds.
“It happened, David,” Emma said. “I can prove it. You can see some of it if you don’t believe me.”
David gaped at her, unable to comprehend what the woman, the stranger – he could no longer reconcile the Emma he knew with the arrogant bitch standing there across the kitchen from him – was saying to him.
“What do you mean?” David croaked. “Prove it? How?”
Emma stalked from the kitchen, her stride full of purpose. David blinked, stunned by all that had been said. He blew out his cheeks and shook his head. Muttering a curse, he pushed the chair back and stood up and followed in his wife’s wake.
But was she still his wife? Could he accurately fix that label to Emma?
He found her upstairs on her hands and knees rummaging through a bundle of handbags on the floor.
“Here!” Emma cried, rising to her feet. “Nathaniel gave me this.” She held out a hand, palm uppermost, fingers spread.
With a sinker of foreboding dropping into the pit of his stomach, David took the innocuous flash drive from Emma. He looked at it and wondered what devastation the tiny thing contained.
“You want proof? There’s the proof.”
The front door banged shut when Emma left the house. It was still Friday evening, still daylight outside. Emma had used her mobile to make the call while David just stood there with the flash drive in his hand.
He heard her half of the conversation, listened to her, and did nothing.
“I need to get away tonight,” Emma had said. “I have to get out of here tonight. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
A pause while she listened to the instrument at her ear. Then: “I can get a train into King’s Cross … What’s the closet tube station?” Another pause, very brief, and then, “Can you pick me up?”
Yet another pause while Emma listened. She nodded. “Yes,” she said, her head nodding all the time. “Yes … Okay … Yes. Got it. I’ll call you when I get to London.”
David watched his wife’s face as she looked at him, her smirk caused by whatever the person on the phone had said. Her mouth curled at the edges. David saw the vulpine smirk and sly narrowing of her eyes. Then Emma turned her back to him, chuckling.
“Tomorrow?” he heard her say. “Anything you say. I can’t wait for it.”
Something dark slithered inside David when he realised Emma was plotting some kind of debauched rendezvous for the following day. In his head he pictured his wife and the two black men, Nathaniel and Philip. He saw again, in his mind’s eye, Emma supine on the hotel bed, Nathaniel’s cock pumping jizm into her. He glanced at the flash drive in his hand and his heart thumped. What images would he find if he fired up the computer and opened the drive?
“I’ll stay with Tia tonight, if that’s okay?” David heard Emma mutter. “But, if you’re not busy… maybe I’ll see you, too?” she added.
And then, with questions whirling in David’s head, Emma ignored him completely. She opened a couple of drawers and rummaged in her wardrobe, throwing clothes into a small back-pack.
“Where are you going?” David said as he rushed down the stairs, following Emma to the front door. “Are you meeting him? Is Nathaniel meeting you? Is it Philip?”
David grabbed Emma’s wrist just before she opened the door. “Tell me,” he snarled. “I won’t let you. I won’t let you leave so you can go and … and…”
Emma wrenched free of David’s grip.
“You can’t stop me,” she spat.
She poked her husband’s chest, the backpack slung over one shoulder. She did it hard, so forceful that he gasped and stepped back.
“I’m going to Tia’s place. Nathaniel is arranging for me to get picked up from the tube station. I hope he comes over to Tia’s house tonight so I can fuck his gorgeous black cock.” Emma flicked the latch and pulled the front door open. She shrugged and smirked, adding, “But if he doesn’t, I’m sure me and Tia can have some fun.”
“Tia?” asked David, his mouth working around the name. “Who exactly is this Tia? Tell me, Emma. Please.” He was growing frantic, the panic rising in his voice. “Please tell me where you’re going. Tell me who Tia is!”
“She’s a Queen of Spades … Like me,” Emma replied. Her eyes moved over her husband, a long look of utter disdain. “We’re both owned, David. I’m not with you any more.”
“Owned?” David said, confusion wrinkling his forehead. He squinted at Emma. “What do you mean?”
“Look at the stuff on the memory stick, David,” replied Emma, her tone soft, almost pitying.
The door slammed shut, a symbol of how he had been shut out of his marriage. David stood, gaping at the space his wife had occupied a few seconds earlier.
Owned, she had said.
David unclenched his fist and looked down at the memory stick.