Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

This was followed by a subsection about her views on pornography and whether porn was used as a tool during sex.

John had tried early in their relationship to get her to watch porn with him, but she had to admit that pornography didn’t really appeal to her. There was always a sense of deviance to porn, which wasn’t to her taste, she wrote, adding that she was sure he watched pornography, as most men were wired that way. She then added a big question mark as if to ask, Am I right?

By this stage, Jen felt that she must be really dull in bed and wondered if these questions were geared to make her take ownership for John’s extramural romps, so she added that she enjoyed using props and performing role-play during sex; after all, she had bought that French maid’s outfit, and a nurse’s uniform, and crotchless panties in a bid to spice up their sex life.

Next, she was asked whether she had been faithful to her husband, followed by her definition of infidelity and whether both she and her husband subscribed to this view.

The final question in this section was whether she knew or believed her husband was faithful to her. She knew the answer to this question. That was why she was here. She wrote that she had caught her husband with his wine rep and had recently discovered his affair with her best friend. She included that there were many rumours about his philandering, which she had not wanted to believe but which nevertheless made her suspicious.

“List how this makes you feel.” She pressed the pencil hard into the paper: “BETRAYED, STUPID, ANGRY, UGLY, HUMILIATED, WORTHLESS” , and her last word was “FREE”.

Jen was washed out. She needed fresh air, and to escape from the confines of the room. She placed the pages in an envelope, sealed it and left it with the receptionist then walked the fourteen flights of stairs to the ground floor. After sitting the whole morning◦– probing, thinking, feeling, questioning◦– she was about to explode and needed to move!

The sandwich shop on Long Street was bustling with lunchtime custom. All the trendy city slickers were standing or perched on stools around high tables laden with espressos, cappuccinos and other hot beverages, mouths crammed with designer sandwiches, seemingly difficult to eat yet expertly negotiated, while laughing, chatting and calling friends over to tables. Everyone seemed to be in a frenzy to eat and meet before going back to offices and desks providing them with work that could bring them one step closer to their goals and dreams.

This little place had crammed some of the most beautiful people into a small area, making it either a popular place for those who aspired to be trendy or daunting for those who thought that perhaps they didn’t belong.

Jen felt like one of the latter as she pushed her way through the throngs of people, hoping that Claudia had found them a table. Her imported linen dress was creased. Definitely pure linen. The plunging neckline revealed her cleavage and newly tanned décolletage on which her thong necklace rested, as if to point to where happiness could be found. Jen noticed a few businessmen glance appreciatively at her bust. Someone grabbed the back of her arm.

“Jen,” a man’s voice said, “is that you?”

She turned and looked into the eyes of a tall, well-built stranger. His broad shoulders were covered in a striped blue shirt, and a dark blue tie hung loosely around his neck. His hair was a curly mop of speckled grey and his reading glasses hid between the curls on his head. Tiny laugh lines framed his dark brown eyes and a Roman nose protruded handsomely from the middle of his face.

Jen recognised him. “I know you, but I can’t place you,” she said politely.

“It’s me, Myron!”

She hadn’t seen Myron since high school, since his family had emigrated to Greece when she was in Grade Eleven. She remembered the adolescent crush she’d had on him. In fact, all the girls had been half in love with him, and she had been dizzyingly flattered when he had shown an interest in her. She had even made out with him at the school social. Myron was the first boy who had ever touched her breasts. That was a long time ago, and now she was looking into the eyes of a very handsome, middle-aged businessman.

“Well, blow me away! Myron! What are you doing here? I thought you were living in Greece.”

“I’ve been back for just over a year now. As you know, we took a huge knock in the recession. I could foresee that Greece would be teetering on the brink of bankruptcy, so I came back to find you. And look! Destiny has brought you here to the very coffee shop where I have lunch every day,” he teased, his dark eyes creasing endearingly at the sides. “You haven’t changed. You are as beautiful as ever.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Myron, I’ve aged. I’m on the cusp of fifty, and gravity and time have taken their toll, as would be expected. But thanks for the compliment.”

“You are like the good vintage wine your father has in his cellar, which gets better with age.”

“And you’re the cheese that goes with it,” she grinned.

He asked how her parents were, which was sweet of him, especially since they had forbidden her from seeing “that bloody Greek”. She had been distraught, but her dad had said that no Greek was going to gain his experience from his daughter and then dump her for a nice Greek girl. “I know how ‘these people’ operate and I will not have it!” he had shouted.

“They’re both dead. Both of them have passed on,” she said. “They weren’t very nice about you, were they? If it’s any consolation, I was devastated my dad wouldn’t let me see you,” she said in a teasing voice, her heart beating overtime with excitement and surprise at her own daring.

“I never did marry, Greek or otherwise,” he volunteered.

“Oh, don’t talk rubbish! You want to tell me that Myron is incapable of luring a nice hot babe into his web?” She was keen to hear his answer.

“No,” he said, with a hint of a Greek accent. “I never said that. I had a very long relationship and when I eventually decided to commit, it was too late. So, I’ve learnt a very hard lesson. Ah well, that’s life. You’re young and vain and want to stay single and then suddenly you find yourself old and alone.”

“Well, at least you were honest and didn’t commit to something you knew you couldn’t keep to.”

Myron searched her face. “Do I sense a bit of hostility and bitterness? Have you added to the divorce statistics, Jen?”

God! He is an Adonis! Jen steered her thoughts back to the conversation. “No. Not yet. But I really don’t want to talk about my personal crap. I’ve spent the whole bloody morning wallowing in self-pity and I have the whole afternoon of the same to look forward to. I’m hijacking your table, whether you want me to or not. I just hope the lady you’re meeting will enjoy our company.”

She grinned and as he grabbed her hand and kissed it, she saw Claudia through the crowd. She lifted her other arm to wave.

“There you are!” Claudia grabbed a stool and plonked herself down. “I got you the smoked chicken and herb sandwich, I hope it’s all right. I don’t have much time for lunch, so I thought I’d get our food to save time. Pardon me,” Claudia said, noticing Myron. “I’m Claudia.”

She looked at Jen and grinned, her brows lifted as if to say, Already picking up men ?

“Claudia, this is an old school friend of mine. His name is Myron.”

“Are you Myron Christofoulo?” Myron had taken his last bite of his sandwich and all he could manage was a nod. “My boyfriend has spoken a lot about you.”