Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch. Eva Mazza

don’t know, Frankie.”

      “I do. You’ll be waiting for the scraps John and his indecently hot young bride decide to toss your way.”

      In the past, Jen had wondered why Frankie was so committed to staying married, despite the affair she had confessed to having. Frankie was a realist. She had a great lifestyle. “Lee gives me everything I want, except good sex,” she’d once told Jen. “At this stage, average sex is a minor detail compared to the bigger picture. I holiday overseas, I stay in the best hotels, I drive a great car and I never have the stress of work or finances. Lee is one of the most successful and powerful men in South Africa and people respect me by association. They know I’m nobody from a small town in Bum Fuck Wherever. They’re prepared to overlook this only because I’m married to Lee. I’m not stupid enough to give it all up for multiple orgasms? The right marriage, my darling Jen, brings respectability, no matter your past.” She had chuckled wickedly, “And you know I have a terrible past.”

      Frankie’s voice interrupted Jen’s thoughts.

      “Jen? Are you still there?”

      Jen was still sobbing.

      “Pull yourself together. Fix this.”

      “I don’t want to be like my mum.” Jen’s mother had lived all her life with an adulterous husband, her dad. His affair had been common knowledge in Stellenbosch. Her mom had chosen to overlook the fact that she had a duplicitous spouse. Their marriage had been loveless. She didn’t want this. She had said as much to John. He knew her terms and he had broken them.

      “I have told you this before, Jen. You may see it as weak, but the way I see it, your mother didn’t make the ‘other woman’ an honest woman. She would’ve if she’d divorced your dad. That woman would always remain a slut as long as your parents stayed married.”

      Jen interrupted her. “But at what cost, Frankie? Surely morals come into play at some point? And what about principles? They have to count for something.”

      “Morals and principles! Please! Your mum upheld a standing in the community and, by remaining married, she chose to maintain the lifestyle that both of you deserved.”

      Another image of John flashed in front of her, his head tilted upwards, legs splayed open. Patty’s head between his thighs.

      “The only mistake your mom made was not finding herself a lover. But who knows, maybe she was a lot more discreet than your father was.”

       Seven

      John stood at the tasting room door and watched Patty as she walked away. He didn’t know who to stress about more, Jen or her. She had climbed into her Toyota Yaris, the company car the business had bought as part of her package. He watched her drive down the farm’s dirt road (as always, she drove slowly to avoid killing any animals should they cross her path). She turned left towards the main gate on the R45 and then she was out of sight.

      What just happened? He so wanted to see if Jen was okay, but he needed to process the disturbing exchange he’d just had with Patty. If he didn’t know any better… Had he been set up? It certainly seemed like it. Fuck!

      He hadn’t forgotten his friends’ reservations on hearing that Patty had been poached by him. They hadn’t been happy, and they told him as much. “She knows things about us,” Larry had said. Besides her having a wealth of information that could be used against them, exposing this ‘gentlemen’s’ club (which probably had links to Cape Town’s underworld) could result in all sorts of… Or was he just being paranoid?

      Poker night had started off as a legitimate monthly card game; it was Frans who’d turned it into ‘poke-her’ night. He’d been going to a gentlemen’s club in the city for quite some time. It was he who had suggested that they spice up their regular boys’ night, assuring everyone that it was discreet and upmarket – at a price, of course. They were wealthy enough to buy discretion and they were all keen to bring some excitement into their lives. Being in a group somehow made it more acceptable, should their wives ever find out.

      So, poke-her night it became. It was, as most of these clubs were, at an undisclosed address in Cape Town. John didn’t know how Frans got wind of the club and he didn’t really care. It was a consolation that it wasn’t one of those run-of-the-mill strip joints that every asshole went to. The club was at the top of an office block in the centre of the city and each time they went, they were given a different password to gain entry. The building housed a well-known finance company, the owner being one of the members of the inner circle of Stellenbosch. The lift had ‘Penthouse’ marked on it, but a key was necessary to gain access to that floor. That key and the password were given to clients by the security guard on the ground floor in exchange for a very generous tip.

      The lift doors opened to a fountain at the centre of a glassed-in entrance exhibiting a spectacular view of Cape Town’s skyline and its dazzling nightlights. It was a breathtaking backdrop, and when John’s group first saw it they were relieved that their lavish surroundings diminished the potential sleaze that other adult clubs elicited. The interior was decorated with mirrors and chandeliers. The upholstery was black velvet and leather, which, set against the glass and chrome, created a modern and masculine feel.

      The women, porn-star sexy, had been carefully chosen to enhance the décor and to titillate. Mirrored tables offered lines of ready-cut coke for an extra fee. John never did the drugs. There was no way he wanted to lose control. He needed to ensure that he wasn’t going to land up in a compromising position in front of his friends. He was there for the fun; always careful to keep his shit together, as tempting as all this was. It seemed Lee felt the same.

      The others were different. They behaved like caged animals let loose; wilfully blind to the fact that the girls who were propositioning them were just doing their job. On that first night, most of them had blown at least twenty thousand on drugs, drink and hardcore sex.

      After that, they – except for Lecherous Larry – had learned to exercise some restraint and stuck mostly to the poke-her game: strip poker, where each man was partnered with one of the girls. If someone lost, his partner had to shed a piece of clothing. By the end, most of the girls were half naked. The winner could choose to keep his winnings or hand them over to the club in exchange for ‘time out’ with his partner.

      John and Lee had always liked winning, and if they did, they kept their windfall. John would quash any guilt he felt about these illicit poker nights by handing his winnings over to an elated Jen.

      The woman at the front had commented on this one night. “You’re the only guy I know who lands up going home with money.” She gave him his wad of cash.

      “And you’re the only girl I know who’s fully clothed in here,” he said as he counted it.

      “Those are the conditions of my employment,” she’d smiled.

      “Well, how much do you charge to remove them?” He flashed the wad of cash at her. She could probably smell whisky on his breath. He had had too much to drink, that’s for sure. But there was something about her that he was prepared to pay to see.

      Her smile faded fast. “That’s not what I do, Mr Pearce,” she said, her voice cold and assertive. “Thank you for your patronage this evening. I’m told your shuttle has arrived. Have a safe trip home.”

      Though she’d shut him down that night, as the months went by John learned his boundaries with her and they chatted more frequently. She told him her name was Patty.

      “How does a nice girl like you end up in a place like this?” he’d once asked her playfully.

      “I can ask you the same question, Mr Pearce. How does a nice guy like you land up here?”

      “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” he’d laughed. “I’m a bored old man out with my mates looking for some fun. And you? Well? You must have an interesting story.”

      It was more desperate than interesting. Patty had been through a nasty divorce.