The Call

I went out into the foyer. Paced around while I planned the conversation in my head. It was a practice that rarely paid off as conversations hardly go as planned. I scrolled to his name but hung my finger just above the dial button while I waited for my heart to slow to a decent pace. Then I called John. After brief pleasantries I got to the point. “Monica’s husband is like you.”

“You mean perfect?”

“She seems to think so.”

“So?”

There was a brief pause while I chewed my lip. But finally I swallowed my nerves. “What I mean is... he has the same fetish as you.”

“You’ve been talking about me? Our private lives?”

“Me and Monica are very close. We’re similar people.”

“Semra…” To be fair, John sounded pretty annoyed. As I feared, the conversation wasn’t going to plan. John’s voice was becoming strained. “I’m not sure if I’m too happy you sharing stuff like that. It’s not exactly normal, is it?”

“That’s just it, Monica is actually made up. Because, she’s in the same position as me. But she’s more experienced. And sometimes treats her husband with stories about her girly nights.”

“Oh.”

“Sexy stories.”

“Interesting.”

Finally, John seemed to be coming on side. “John. What I’m proposing is.... And you can veto anything I say. But I will play a little. And tease you with pictures of our adventures with the locals. And…of course you can hear all about it when I get home.”

“Just be safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be in control.” A load of voices echoed in the foyer as a group of guests came in off the street. . “Listen. I gotta go. Love you.”

“Love you. I can’t wait for you to come home… with plenty of inspiration.”

“Goodnight, my love.” I hung up the phone. Slipping the phone into my handbag I turned then walk back into the restaurant but was met by Monica at the entrance. “Leaving?”

“Yes. Time to go into town. John is cool with it?”

“Yes,”

“I knew he would be.”

The excitement was growing now. In fact. I felt younger already. I suddenly remembered the men who got us the cocktails. “Mon, I thought we were going to thank those guys for the drinks.”

“No bother. The cheeky bastards thought we were prostitutes.”

“My God. The cheek.”