Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

“Here, feel my abs.” He grabbed Patty’s hand and placed it on his stomach. “Not bad for fifty-five?”

Patty humoured him. “Not bad at all, John.”

John laughed at her and grabbed two shot glasses from one of the waiters circulating the dance floor. “Come! You need to catch up. Two for you, Madam.” Patty obliged and downed both glasses. She knew the mix would have an immediate effect, but she didn’t care.

“Do you want me to show you something harder?” said John.

Patty moved in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “I don’t know, John. You’ve been desperate to show me something hard from the first time we met.”

“Come on, Patty. You exaggerate.”

Patty lifted her manicured finger to his mouth. “Ssh. I haven’t finished.”

John looked back at her expectantly. She smiled. “I guess it’s on these occasions that one should be more indulgent, especially since you’ve made me very drunk. And I haven’t bothered to get you a present.”

They teased each other on the dance floor until most of the guests left. Patty remembered Frankie giving her the hairy eyeball and rejecting Lee’s attempts to get her to leave the party. With everyone finally gone, John grabbed Patty’s arm and led her across the lawn to the tasting room. It was there that the real fun began.

Patty was too busy focusing on getting John to climax to hear his wife enter. If he hadn’t lost it, she wouldn’t have realised that something was wrong.

Jen was virtually inaudible. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She thought it was her conscience speaking to her, as it often did. She did have morals! When she finally realised it wasn’t her voice but Jen’s, she jumped up, then stupidly tried to recover some decorum by attempting to stop her boobs from falling all over the place. Patty shuddered. This was not the outcome she wanted. She recalled the way Jen had said, “Patty?” as if she had been stabbed in the back. What was that Shakespearean line? Oh yes, “Et tu, Brute?” She couldn’t get past that image of her, vulnerable and betrayed. Yes. Me too, Jen. I’m sorry.

John was caught with his pants down. Literally. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

He hadn’t heard Patty laughing. When he eventually did, he barked, “Jesus Christ! What’s so fucking funny, Patty? Jen has just walked in on us! Christ!” He pulled his pants up and zipped his zipper. He rubbed his temples. What have I done! Patty had stopped laughing. Thankfully. When he finally looked at her, he saw that her top had been buttoned up and her breasts were back in place. After all that had happened, he still couldn’t help thinking how fucking hot she was.

“Sorry, nervous reaction, I guess. Well, aren’t you going to run after her?” Patty asked.

John sat with his elbows on his knees, still rubbing his temples. “I can’t. That would just cause a scene. She’s hysterical. Give her time.” He was advising himself it seemed. He’d seen Jen’s face. Shit! He felt so bad for his wife. He had hurt her. It was never his intention to hurt her. He loved her. What the fuck had he done?

Patty’s heels clicked on the stone floor. He looked up to see her bend over the candle and blow it out. One blow. They hadn’t managed to finish what they had started. He had been cheated out of the best blowjob and he was pretty sure there would never be another chance with Patty. What the fuck is wrong with me?

As if reading his mind, Patty said, “You’re a sociopath, John. Your wife has just caught us red handed and you’re looking at me like that. Have you no shame?”

He rubbed his scalp vigorously and said, “I know. I know! I can’t help it. I feel shit, Patty! You don’t have to tell me how shit I feel. I know.” He looked tortured. “But…” She folded her arms just under her breasts, pushing them up, making them look even bigger. “But I feel shitter for John-John.”

“It’s very off-putting, you know?” He watched as she smoothed out the wrinkles of her pencil skirt.

“What’s off-putting, Patty?” There was nothing off-putting about her. He recalled the night’s events: how she had pushed that very same skirt slowly up over her voluptuous hips. He had always perved over her butt. And now he had seen it, squeezed it, grabbed it.

“Naming your dick,” she said.

She made him feel ridiculous. All he wanted to hear was how horny he had made her.

Maybe if she’d told him, he wouldn’t feel so incredibly shit. “You drive me wild. Even with the crap you’ve caused.”

“Really, John! It’s all my fault? You plied me with drinks, remember? I was drunk. I could say you took advantage of me, Mr Pearce.”

John was starting to feel vulnerable. His wife was out there somewhere, betrayed and hurt. And Patty? Was she implying…? “Uh-uh; you lifted your skirt to tantalise me. What was I supposed to do?”

Her full lips parted into a broad grin. He was mesmerised. Those lips were around my cock, he reminded himself. Then , Jen saw. You stupid sick dick!

Patty interrupted his thoughts. “You ordered me to show you my butt, remember.”

Jesus! How could he forget? He leaned back against the wall, pausing for a moment before he spoke. “I can’t help wondering why you agreed after months of batting my advances?”

“I never agreed. You made me very drunk. You took unfair advantage of me, John.”

Was she being serious? “Bullshit. You were so ready, your panties were off.”

“I never wear panties.” She shifted her bottom so that she was sitting on the table top.

He remembered his mouth on her, the taste of her and his fingers anxious to explore her. He had brought her to a climax more than once. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you, Patty, but if you’re thinking of joining the #MeToo group, you don’t qualify.” He laughed sardonically at his own joke. “You were so wet I could’ve bottled your juices.” She had tried not to, but he had noticed her flinch. His tone had become ugly, he was unsure why.

“Too crude for you?” he asked. She didn’t answer. Her deadpan expression made him even more uneasy. “Come on, Patty. I was joking.”

“Do you talk to your wife the way you speak to me, John?”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

“Nothing. Just wondering. It makes me sad that poor Jen doesn’t know the real John Pearce.”

“Jen knows the real me. We’ve been married for twenty-four years. We love each other. She’s a good wife and an excellent mother. What we did, you know it’s not love.”

She stood up to leave. He tried to stop her. “You’re as to blame. You seduced me , Patty. I’m married. And you ask me if I’ve no shame. Where’s your shame?”

He felt Patty prise his fingers one by one from her arm. Her eyes bore into his as she spoke. “If you’re trying to tell me that you and little Johnnie…”

“John-John.”

“Whatever, John, really! If you’re trying to tell me that I am the only person you’ve broken your sacred marriage vows with, then you insult my intelligence.”

John frowned.

“Secrets turn into ugly truths when exposed. I’ll start with your constant sexual harassment of me.”

“Jen’s hardly going to believe you after seeing you suck my dick.”

“You’re right.” Her voice sounded strangely upbeat. “That’s why I’ll have to tell her about your once-a-month poker evenings.” John’s eyes widened. Prompted by the attention this evoked, she continued. “I think this information may hurt even more because every one of your friends goes down with you, don’t they, John? While your wives do book club, you all frequent an illegal sex club in Cape Town.”