The Mistress
“I borrowed your coat the other day. Your gray trench. Couldn’t find mine and it was raining. Stuck my hand in the pocket and guess what I found?”
She almost laughed aloud at the sound of Zachary’s heavy guilty sigh coming from the other side of the world.
“A black tie?”
“A black tie...that for some reason smelled of hothouse flowers. I only ever remember meeting one person in my entire life with that scent on her. Beautiful woman with green eyes and black hair and spectacular cle**age. Sound familiar at all?”
“Vaguely familiar.”
Grace remembered how her hand had trembled when she saw the black silk tie, smelled it. That day she met Nora, she remembered that scent, the scent of flowers that thrived in captivity even if they didn’t belong there.
“She put it in my pocket, and I didn’t know she’d done it. It was a joke, not some precious souvenir.”
“And you kept it in your pocket for over a year because...?”
“You never know when you’ll need a spare tie.”
Grace stopped talking and took a drink of her water.
“Are you angry?” Zachary asked, and she heard real concern in his voice. They teased each other often about that year they spent apart, he in America, she still in London. That year had been so hard and so hellish for the both of them that the only way they could face the memory of it was by mocking it, defying it to have any power over their marriage.
“No, I’m not angry. I think I’d worry about you if you weren’t still attracted to her. My only worry is...”
“What?”
“I’m sure this won’t make any sense but...do you miss her? Or do you miss it? Nora’s quite specific. There’s no one like her so I understand if you miss her. But if you miss it, miss the sort of sex you had with her that you and I don’t have, then I’d be worried.”
“I miss her,” he said, and Grace believed him. “I won’t lie. She and I had an amazing passionate night together. I saw another world with her, a world I never even dreamed existed. It was eye-opening to say the least, and I’m certainly glad I got to see it. But it’s not my world. You’re my world.”
“You’re my world, too,” she confessed, smiling through tears. They’d only been apart two days and she was already getting emotional and maudlin. Damn Zachary for being so lovable, so missable.
“So we’re all right? You forgive your husband for occasionally having fond reminisces about a wild American girl he once—”
“Once?”
“Or twice. Or...more than twice.”
“It’s unfair. I know I’m supposed to be jealous that you had a night of sex with a beautiful woman who writes torrid books and lives a scandalous life,” she said in her most dramatic Masterpiece Theater voice. “But really I’m jealous that you got to see that world. What does she call it?”
“The Underground.”
“Yes, you got to see the Underground. S&M clubs and Dominatrixes and wealthy and powerful deviants. Meanwhile, I was falling asleep in my tea while Ian droned on about bloody exchange rates.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re not jealous that I slept with Nora Sutherlin and still miss her from time to time. You’re jealous that I had more fun committing adultery than you did.”
“Entirely correct.”
“You’re not far from the city. Call Nora. Tell her to show you the Underground. Have some fun adultery for once.”
Grace felt her conscience bite her. Not much of a bite. More a nibble.
“I did call Nora already,” Grace confessed. “Got her voice mail. Thought we could meet for a drink.”
“Nora doesn’t have one drink. She has drinks—plural. And kinks—plural. Be prepared for a long night if you end up in the passenger seat of her car.”
“I’ll say my prayers. Are you sure you’ll be fine with me spending some time with her?”
She heard him sigh and her heart clenched to hear it. She could picture his face right now, so striking with his ice-blue eyes and thoughtfully furrowed brow.
“Gracie, I know you’ve been under so much stress lately. I know how hard this has been on you.”
He didn’t have to say what “this” was. This was their failed quest to get pregnant that had left them both emotionally exhausted.
“A little,” she admitted in a choked whisper.
“Go have fun, darling. You deserve a night off.”
“So...how much fun are you willing to let me have?”
“As much as you want. I had mine. You go have yours. Be careful and don’t give me any details about it the next day. Ignorance is bliss.”
“What if you find a black tie in my coat pocket that smells like some handsome bloke?”
“I’ll think positively. I’ll pretend you murdered a stranger and kept the tie as a memento.”
“Fair enough.”
“Call Nora again. Give her my lust. And tell her to please write a book that isn’t specifically designed to get us all arrested next time. Oh, and remind her that her edits are due on Monday.”
“I’ll pass the message along. If you need me, I’ll be in the Underground. So try not to need me.”
“Have a good time. Be safe. Stay away from men in collars.”
“Are the male submissives dangerous?” she asked, feeling rather proud she knew the terminology.