Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch. Eva Mazza

money. Patty’s terms of employment were strictly no sex with the club’s patrons, clean habits and a huge amount of discretion.

      “There’s not much out there for a sales rep who hasn’t worked in five years. This was the best I could find, and I’m grateful,” she’d told him.

      That was how Patty had come to work for John. And since then, she’d spent months avoiding her employer’s sexual advances. And last night she had finally succumbed to him. My dream has morphed into a fucking nightmare! he thought.

      John was now, more than ever, determined to find Jen. He had to placate her. Patty was bad enough; he didn’t need to add a scorned, vengeful wife into the equation. He began to run across the lawn to their farmhouse. I hope to fuck she’s managed to hold it together; that she hasn’t phoned her book club cronies and spilled her guts to them. Stellenbosch loved a scandal. Worst of all, his children would be privy to the most embarrassing details about their father. He’d always managed to be discreet about his transgressions. Until now.

      Jen didn’t hear John come in. After showering, she lay on their bed in a towelling gown, hair dripping, her eyes swollen from crying.

      John walked in a little while later, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. She knew he had showered in the spare bathroom.

      “You at least had the decency to scrub Patty off you.” She looked past him as he sat on the side of the bed and gently rested his hand on hers.

      “I’m sorry,” he said. “I really didn’t mean for this to happen. I was pissed, and she came on to me. You weren’t around. Jen, she put her hand on…”

      Jen’s sudden reaction startled him.

      “Please, John, I don’t want to hear it! What I saw was bad enough. I don’t need you to give me a blow-by-blow account of the event.” With a smirk that looked more like a pained grimace, she added, “No pun intended.”

      She could see that John was hurting for her. This gave her hope, especially when he said, “I know. Maybe nearing sixty is weighing on me more than I thought. I felt wanted, Jen. You haven’t really wanted me like that for a long time.”

      He began to cry. Jen couldn’t believe what was happening. He had tried to stop himself, but he had failed. His vulnerability made her heart spill over with love for her cheating husband and she wrapped her arms around him.

      “I was such a shit to you, John. My speech was out of line.” She kissed him softly on his forehead. “And you’re right. I haven’t been a very good wife, have I?”

      “No, you haven’t, Jen. If I have to be honest, you’ve been distant. Even so, that was a shitty thing I did last night. Can I try make it up to you?” They held hands, both deep in thought.

      “Who, besides Frankie, saw you with Patty?” Jen asked.

      “I don’t think anyone saw me with her. Everyone had left. Why? Do you think Frankie saw something?”

      “Frankie texted me about you two. Look.” She showed John her phone messages.

      John scrolled through them.

      “Damn it! Well, text her back. Tell her everything is fine.”

      Maybe I shouldn’t have phoned Frankie. But she is my best friend. She had felt all alone. “I told her!” She watched John’s face contort. She tried to placate him. “I was distraught. I needed somebody to share this with, John. She’s my best friend and she was looking out for me.”

      He clenched his jaw. “Really, Jen? Frankie will tell everyone. Word will get out. And our kids? Do you want them to hear about this?” Jen didn’t answer. “What were you thinking?”

      He had gone too far. Hit a nerve. She jumped up, tossed her gown aside, put on her bra and panties, and threw on a dress and sandals. “As much as I take some responsibility, I think it’s safe to ask you what you were thinking? You compromised your reputation and your image with the children. I caught the two of you together. I saw you! Do you have any idea what that was like for me, John?”

      John’s tone softened. He got up and walked towards her. “I know. I know. I’m sorry, Jen. But Frankie!” He tried to touch her, but she brushed him off.

      “Frankie’s my friend. She saw the two of you and she tried to warn me.” She paused before adding, “Who knows who else saw you. Damn it, John! And what else you’ve been up to.” She grabbed her bag.

      “Where are you going?” he asked. “It’s my birthday. Brig and Pete are coming for lunch, remember?”

      “As you said last night, I have no place to go.”

      “Come on, Jen, I was joking. Can’t you take a joke?”

      Resolute, she straightened up and looked him in the eyes. “Not when I’m the butt of your jokes, John. No, I can’t.”

      He rubbed his hair, as she knew too well, when he felt stressed. She wanted to relent. He looked so helpless. But this wasn’t one of their normal fights. She had seen him with another woman. He had broken her trust. And her heart.

      “I really need to think right now. Away from you. Away from the kids.”

      “Come on, Jen. Baby, don’t go. Please.” Her laugh was pained.

      “You called Patty ‘baby’ too. Do you say that to all the girls you fuck?” Jen hardly swore. It jarred when she did, and her husband’s head jerked back slightly. Anyway, she liked the idea of getting away. The irony of actually finding somewhere else to go pleased her.

      “I reckon after what I’ve just been through, I deserve to be massaged and pampered. I’m going to check in to a lodge at Delaire Graff.” John knew what that was going to cost. “Yes, John, the unaffordable one I’ve been dropping hints about. I’m going to use your credit card because I reckon I deserve this indulgence.”

      She knew this time he had no choice. “Okay, ba, um… Jen… and the kids?”

      “What about the kids?” She was defiant.

      “What do I tell them?”

      “I’m sure you’ll think of something. You always do.”

       Eight

      John lay on the bed, towel still wrapped around his waist, legs dangling off the edge. His phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw it was Brigit. He pressed the silence button. John couldn’t talk to her now. He was feeling too emotional.

      He heard Jen slam the door of her ML, a car that most of her girlfriends drove; except Frankie, who drove a Porsche Cayenne. Lee always wanted to be one up on everyone, and he had been, even at school. John squeezed his eyes shut as he heard the clutch grind into reverse. He inhaled deeply. The tyres screeched before she drove away.

      He remained on the bed for what felt like a long time. His phone rang again. This time he had to answer. It was Jen.

      “Yes, my love,” he said gently.

      “Your wine rep just called me! Has she no shame?”

      Fuck! He knew it.

      “Are you there, John?”

      “What did she say?” He sat up.

      “I didn’t answer. I have nothing to say to that slut.”

      Thank God! he thought, lying back down.

      “I want you to call her. Tell her to leave me the fuck alone. Do you hear me? She must leave me the fuck alone!” Jen sounded hysterical.

      “I’ll phone her.” Damn right, he would. The fucking bitch.

      “And while you’re at it, fire her, John. I don’t want to see her ever again.”

      John couldn’t fire her. Not right