Page 6 of Play Dirty

“He could,” Augustine insists.

“I don’t love him,” I say. “I’m not sure I even like him.”

Augustine purses her lips. “Since when do you need to like someone to fuck them?”

“OK,” I say. “So this is a temporary fantasy? You want a game? Is that what I’m hearing? You want me to arrange a game for you, only I’m one of the players?”

“Not a game,” she corrects, eyes darting quickly over to Alexander, then just as quickly back at me. Like she didn’t want me to see that. “I want us to try to make something real. Something that might last.”

“Last?” She’s crazy. “He’s not into it, Augustine. All three of us know this. He’s. Not. Interested.”

Augustine looks at her husband. He’s already looking at her. He says, “I’m interested.”

“You’re lying,” I say. “Just tell her, Alexander. Just tell her no, for fuck’s sake. Just sell me the building and I’ll go away. It’s that fucking simple. And hey,” I say, directing my gaze to Augustine now. “I’ll play your game for a while too. I don’t care. I’ll fuck you both. How long do you need to get it out of your system? A week? Two? A month? I can do that. I’ll show up and give you both a good time. Just sell me the fucking building.”

“Why do you need that building?” she snaps.

“Why do you need me to save your marriage?” I snap back.

“Keep your voices down,” Alexander says, glaring at us both. “We’re in public, for fuck’s sake.”

“We’re at the Tea Room,” I growl at him. “Which is pretty much filled with ex-club members right now. And you know why we all hang out at the goddamned Tea Room? It’s because we all want the fucking club back. So we come here to see Chella. Maybe get a glimpse of Smith, or Bric, or Quin. Stare at that fucking revolving door that never revolves anymore, and wonder if we’ll ever find another place that feels like home again. So don’t get self-righteous on me, Alexander. We’re here having this conversation because you’re too weak to tell your wife no.”

Augustine pushes a piece of long, dark hair away from her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. “This is my offer. You need something from me? Well, I need something from you too. It’s up to you now.”

She stands up, places her paper napkin on top of her uneaten cupcake, turns on her heel, and walks away.

I watch her hail a cab—and isn’t that her luck? That one is passing by right at this moment?—get in and disappear.

Then I turn back to Alexander and say, “Just let her leave you. Why do you put up with this shit?”

He doesn’t answer me. Just sits there and sips his coffee. A waitress comes by and he taps her arm as she passes, asking for a take-out container. She returns a few minutes later—neither of us have spoken in that silence—and he carefully places Augustine’s cupcake inside the yellow box and ties the little black ribbon around it.

Then he stands, forces a smile, and says, “Let me know what time you have lunch tomorrow. I’ll stop by and see if we can make this work.”

I just stare at him as he leaves. He doesn’t take a cab. His Land Rover is parked at the curb. He just drives away.

And that’s what we’ve been doing for the past two weeks.

He didn’t even want to touch me that first day. In fact, it took him four days to touch me, and then it was just a hand on my arm. Feeling the muscles underneath my button-down shirt. But he couldn’t look at me.

And look, maybe we weren’t great back in LA when we did this the first time. But it was a helluva lot better than this. At least he was sorta into it before.

Now, he’s only here for his wife.

The next day I took off my shirt as he watched. This is all happening in my office, by the way. People outside. My fucking father down the hall. But Alexander didn’t want to go to a hotel room. Or their house. Or my house. So… whatever.

This dude is never going to let me fuck him, because this whole lunchtime sexy shit? It’s kinda hot, right? Like… people are even just a little bit into someone find this exciting and… dangerous. So yeah. This is never gonna work.

Today is Saturday. The first Saturday I figured we’d take the day off—regroup—meet back up on Monday. But he called me that morning and said he’d be at my office for lunch. But when I got to the lobby, I saw both of them waiting for me.

I raised my eyebrows at Augustine and she just said, “I want to watch.”

So that’s what’s she’s been doing. Not every day. But twice a week so far.

Yesterday went better than usual, so maybe she figures today is our day?

She’s dreaming. Alexander just isn’t into it.