Kaptain's Blog

The writings and musings of The Kaptain

Monday, April 7, 2008

The Number One Under Heaven (24)

Kate was not there when he arrived back at their Sunny Cape apartment, which should have worried him. But strangely her absence did not fully register, Blake glad in any event that he did not have to confront her, or explain his lengthy departure. He collapsed on to the bed, no longer with the need to wake at a certain time, the reason for his presence in Hong Kong now ended. The shutters of his eyelids slammed his brain into darkness. There was not a thought for his daughter: he did not even recall that she was elsewhere. Falling instantly into a deep slumber, Blake was in denial of a world that was slowly unravelling, all around him.

His wife was also fast asleep, in Tommy’s bed. Alone. For at five-thirty in the morning, the Australian tennis pro had already risen, moving directly from the warmth of her bosom to the kitchen, to prepare a high-energy milkshake before his dawn workout. The buzz of the blender had somehow failed to rouse Kate, much to the Aussie’s annoyance. For since waking up next to the forty-something, he had been wondering how long it would take to get her out of his apartment, without causing a scene. Tommy had now sucked everything he wanted from her: it was time for him to move on, to explore fresh territory.

But Kate was not quite ready to stir. Lying unconscious on a cocktail of wine and spirits, her mind continued to pursue the thrill she had felt when he penetrated her. A steel-hard ram raid of unforgettable substance. And the excitement of extramarital sex. She sighed unwittingly, before turning on one side, her eyes still closed. Kate was the other half of a parent combo that did not deserve the offspring with which they had been blessed. The girl with the white-blonde ringlets. And the wobbly tooth, as yet undiscovered. This latest episode in the mother’s straying had begun in Hemingway’s, where Jack had kicked off his nightshift by supplying her with a free glass of Moet, Kate being a regular customer for whom he harboured a quiet fantasy.

It was as she was sitting at the popular bar, looking out over the pretty beach from its unique vantage point on the Cape, that Tommy had walked past, right on cue. Just as she had known he would. Despite not having showered after completing the last of his evening lessons, the fit young Aussie had been quick to accept her invitation to join her for a drink. The conversation had been flowing as easily as the bubbles, when their ‘nightcap’ had turned into drinking contest; then ultimately an energetic session in his bed, after which they had both made the mistake of falling asleep. But now in the cold light of a new morning, Tommy wanted her out of his apartment, so that he could get on with his life. For although she had a great body and he enjoyed their sex, she was at least ten years older than him, the signs of which were much more visible than they had been the previous night. And she’s married. With a kid, he now reminded himself, while gulping down some more of the blended mixture.

Moving briskly back into his bedroom, Tommy shook her awake, impatiently. “Kate. Babe. Hey. It’s time to go. Come on, wake up.” “Mnnnmmmmgggg…” was the sound of her half-conscious reply. A satisfied murmur that was about to be jolted. Rudely. “Come on, let’s move it!” he urged, more aggressively this time. Tommy wanted to get to the gym and nobody was allowed the privilege of being alone in his apartment. No one. He shook her again; a little too roughly, this time. Reluctantly, Kate rose to sit on the edge of the bed, where she promptly burst into tears. “What’s up?” he asked, irritated. For this was Tommy’s worst nightmare, the thing he hated the most. Like the hair that would sometimes clog his plug hole. But it was something he could have predicted would happen, for he had experienced it countless times before. Because Tommy the hard man was essentially a heartbreaker. A man with no real feelings: someone with no love in his soul. “You’re all the same, you men… You take what you want and then go…” Kate muttered, essentially to herself, while rubbing the sleep from her mascara-smudged eyes. Oh dear. Tommy had heard this speech before.

“Look,” he said, abruptly. “We had a shag, all right? That’s all. For fuck’s sake.” Tommy ran his fingers through his hair. What he actually wanted to say was: Fuck off – now! But even his hardened heart could not muster the gall to do so. Instead, he devised another tactic. “I’m sorry, babe. That’s not really what I meant. We have a good thing going here. Don’t spoil it with tears.” “Are you sure?” came her pathetic response. “Sure I’m sure.” Another one from Tommy’s private lexicon of love. And relationships. It was the default answer to her question. Page sixty-nine. For use when things were not happening quickly enough, or in situations such as this, when the girl simply did not get it. “OK, thank you. I’m sorry. I’ll go now. Sorry,” she finally obliged.

Kate wiped away her tears and got up to dress. In the uneasy silence, she put on her clothes before straightening herself out in his full-length bedroom mirror. Tommy watched her, dispassionately – a little bored and somewhat anxious to get on with the day. The moment she left, after a forced and awkward embrace on his welcome mat, he was sprinting off in the opposite direction, pounding the pavement slabs on his way to the gym. His particular place of worship. Where his temple of a body gained its own particular form of sustenance.

posted by Kirk at 1:37 am  

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