Vaughn. At that moment I could cheerfully have killed him. I could have put my hands about his neck and squeezed the air out of his lungs. If it hadn’t been for that interruption, she would have done it, I knew. She wanted me.
I followed her down the stairs, tasting her scent on the air. She’d been so close. I wish she could have relented. But next time, maybe, she will give in. I wonder if I can get her on her own, find some excuse to visit her.
She was back in the kitchen with Vaughn. I could hear them talking in hushed whispers. I strained to listen, thinking she might say something useful, something about how compelled she felt to act out of character, how something came over her – but nothing. Just the sort of urgent, hushed tones of two people trying not to have an argument within earshot of other people.
I eased myself back on to the leather sofa and drank some more of the wine. Another ten minutes and I found an excuse to call a taxi and leave. The evening turned out to be less entertaining than I’d hoped, and now I have another dilemma: I’ve gone from wanting a woman, to realising I don’t need a woman at all, to wanting one again. But not just any woman, this time. Only her. Only Audrey.
An hour later, alone at home now, relieving myself at last of that delicious tension that had grown unbearable, I have started to think about how I can win her over. Whether I can do it: whether I can turn her gaze from Vaughn’s face to mine. And what it would take to make her want me.
In the night I wake up. I’ve been dreaming of Audrey, of course. She was here, in my room, and Vaughn was present, apparently for the purpose of undressing her for me. I was supine on my bed, the covers around my ankles. Vaughn brought her in, like a prize, like a virgin being offered to the Temple, and, having received a nod of permission, he set about removing her clothes piece by piece, while she stood still, the expression on her face unreadable. Boredom was the most likely name I would apply to it. She stared straight ahead, in my direction but not seeing me. She was here because she had to be, not because she wanted this; not because she was willing. The coercion did not in itself appeal to me, but there was something about her presence that was undeniably arousing.
‘Audrey,’ I said, in the dream. Even then she didn’t cast a glance in my direction. She looked sulky now as well as bored, a petulant child who had been forced away from an enjoyable activity into a chore.
Vaughn pulled down her tights – tights, not stockings – of course not stockings; why should I imagine something so appealing to encase those lovely, slender legs? – and lifted each of her legs in turn like a farrier shoeing a horse, sliding the nylon off the foot and laying the tights to one side like a shed skin.
And she stood there in her bra and panties, functional, unmatching – the bra greying and with a hole in the lace; the panties large and black cotton. Clothed, in Vaughn’s kitchen, she had been, not beautiful exactly, but undeniably sexy. She was certainly attractive, in any case – attractive enough to raise my ardour. But now, in my dream, everything was dulled. Her hair was not that lustrous shade of chestnut, falling in shiny waves around her shoulders. It was brownish, hanging in lanky threads. Her face ashen, her eyes a dirty grey-blue. Nothing about her was conventionally attractive.
Vaughn was unable to stop, even though I wanted him to. Go no further, Vaughn, I wanted to say – stop now. I don’t want to see the rest. But he continued automatically, as though he was following a programme that could not be brought to an early conclusion.
And half-awake now, my hand under the sheets moving fast, I find myself pumping and grunting away watching Vaughn stripping the last fragments of grey nylon and black cotton from the skin of his indifferent, apathetic, complicit girlfriend. Naked, she’s worse. Frumpy, sagging, grey hairs sprouting in patches from between her legs; even her knees are lumpy and spotted with moles. Despite this, despite the fact that she would clearly rather be anywhere on the planet than standing naked