This is the rework of a self-published auto-biographical story (2008), rewritten for this blog. Names of characters have been changed.
Content warning: mental and physical abuse, misogyny.
Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in getting up every time we do.
The New Club
Continued from… More cracks
Normal routine: champagne breakfast; children playing and swimming; adults quietly chatting while enjoying the peacefulness of the Sunday.
“I think that I am going to start the club up again,” Fred said unexpectedly.
Both women looked at him in surprise.
“Why?” Fran wanted to know.
“So we can help bisexual women to get in contact with each other. Or we can help couples to have the same special arrangement we have,” he explained, “and maybe we can even invite a third woman to join us occasionally, when we are in the mood for it of course.”
Fred laughed loudly, the same way he always did when he tried to conceal his uncertainty.
“Just think about the fun we can have when there are four of us in bed. It’s not only to my benefit, but yours too.”
Again he laughed.
Annie felt a sting of jealousy and at the same time, she felt like a failure. Fred was tired of her. She was not good enough anymore. He was going to look for someone else to join them and then he would kick her out. Fred noticed her doubt.
“Come on girl, this has nothing to do with you. You are, besides Fran, the best that I ever had. But, there’s always room for one more, isn’t there?”
The way Fred formulated his question and the way he looked at her, warned Annie not to answer him. No answer would be right. Something told her Fred’s main goal behind this was to have an excuse to screw around with the consent of both Fran and Annie. After all, he did this in the past.
Annie was aware that the couple was discussing the new club, but she was occupied by an idea forming in her head. She surprised herself by how quickly she had filled in the details. The moment she and Fran were alone, Annie turned to the other woman.
“I have an idea,” she said.
“What?” Fran asked uninterested. Even though she hadn’t shown it, she too wasn’t happy with this new complication in her life. She already had to share her husband, and had to constantly fight to hide her jealousy. Now this!
“I’m going to write a letter to the club, and I’m not going to wait for the new advert. The first letter must go out this week still.”
“But Annie, what would it help if you write a letter. Fred won’t be pleased with it,” Fran replied squeamish.
Oh, she can be so stupid sometimes, Annie thought. Then out loud, she explained the outline of her idea to Fran: “Of course I will use a different name. I want to see how far he would be willing to go if the lady intrigues him, because of course he will never be able to meet this woman.”
The more Annie explained about her plan, the bigger Fran’s enthusiasm for the plan became. She agreed to give Fred a taste of his own medicine.
“Annie, Fred may never ever know you wrote the letters. He will be furious. I cannot answer for the consequences if he ever finds out. Still, I love your idea to trick him like this. I also want to know what he’s going to do, but again: he may never know that the joke is on him!” Fran warned.
“He’ll never find out. I’ll take care of it,” Annie assured Fran, but deep down she did feel scared, since she had now experience the fierceness of Fred’s anger. * * * * *
Later that evening Annie sat on her bed, with pen and paper and working out the precise details of her plan. The imaginary woman would write a letter because of an advert in the papers from earlier that year, and express how keen she was to become a member of the club for bisexual women. However, Annie had to take care of some logistic problems. She would have to ask Terry if she could use her post office box, as her old-fashioned friend Tina was now using the one that belonged to Annie. Adjusting her handwriting was easy enough too.
Why did she want to do this? Why was she trying to trick Fred? What was she trying to achieve?
These and many other questions raced through Annie’s thoughts. Deep down she knew what her reasons were. Fred’s enthusiasm for a new club had nothing to do with helping others. She had heard too many stories about him being unfaithful in the past. Something else that bugged her was that Fred had said so many times he only trusted himself. He had repeatedly hinted at Annie and Fran having secret relationships with men at their work. He trusted them the way they should trust him. Not. Annie was almost certain Fred only wanted to start up the club again for his own pleasure.
She picked up the pen and started to write the first letter. It was not as easy as she thought it would be, but after a couple of attempts, she had a neat short letter, with a hint of sensuality.
Just enough to stimulate Fred’s senses.
Terry immediately for Annie to use her post office box. With wiggling knees and constantly looking over her shoulder, Annie dropped the letter in the mailbox during her lunch hour. In a couple of days, Fred would receive a real letter from an unreal writer, ‘Yvonne’.
To be continued… Yvonne’s first letter
© Rebel’s Notes