Behind Closed Doors.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
Short story

Submitted: December 27, 2010

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Submitted: December 27, 2010

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"You will never guess what I got up to last night," announced Beverly Whyte to her bemused colleagues.

Aimee Murray groaned inwardly as Beverly commenced yet another tale of her latest week night debauchery. Aimee enjoyed gossiping with her social group about men and such, however, not over tuna salad sandwiches at lunchtime. Lorraine Young caught Aimee’s attention and rolled her eyes, causing Aimee to stifle a giggle.

"I bumped into this guy I went to school with. He remembered me clearly but I couldn’t place him for the life of me. He bought me a drink prior to telling me that he had the biggest crush on me and couldn’t concentrate on fourth period English where I had apparently sat in front of him," explained Beverly unhurriedly, relishing the fact that yet again she had her three workmates in the palm of her hand.

She had long since suspected that all three of them envied her hectic social life, and were equally jealous of the fact that she remained single.

Aimee allowed her mind to wander to her own sex life - a dangerous mistake these days! She subconsciously hung her head in shame when she realised that she could not remember the last time that Michael, her husband of 5 years, had initiated sex.

Aimee and Michael had been together for eight years in total and the intimate side of the relationship was turning ever so slightly stale. It was not that she did not love her husband - it was quite the opposite. However, he rarely seemed to be in the mood anymore, preferring to wind down with a glass of wine and an early night after a hard day at the office.

Aimee forced herself to re-read the paragraph of her magazine she had glanced over three times when it dawned on her that she could not remember the last time they had made love.

"What do you think Aimee - you are the only one of us that is married after all," requested Beverly, flicking her short blonde hair back in an overly confident manner.

"Huh? What? Sorry, I was engrossed in this article regarding binge drinking celebrities. What was the question?" enquired Aimee, feigning interest.

"I asked if people stopped having sex once they were out of the honeymoon period," asked Beverly professing annoyance.

Aimee faltered before answering the question. She could feel her cheeks blushing as her mouth formed a response she had not entirely thought through.

"Michael and I have sex all the time - eight years is a long time, however, you know the spark and the passion are still there for us," answered Aimee hastily, aware that her voice had risen an octave higher than necessary. She had never been a good liar. Aimee coughed pathetically to mask this and craftily changed the subject by asking Beverly if she was planning to settle down with her mystery man.

"Well, I am meeting up with him again tonight for a proper date. If it was as explosive as last night then I just might consider it…"

After a gruelling afternoon meeting, Aimee made the five minute journey in her car into town. If Beverly had finally found a man she could settle down with, then Aimee could use her initiative and spice up her love life.

Aimee made her way to Ann Summers, taking a deep breath prior to opening the door. Once inside the famous lingerie shop, she purchased a matching red and lacy number.

Next, Aimee made her way to Asda and purchased a bottle of expensive champagne and a punnet of fresh strawberries and cream, reminiscent of their honeymoon in the Caribbean. If Aimee had wandered as far as the frozen food section, she would have bumped into Beverly who was busy attaining all essentials for her romantic night.

Once Aimee returned home and plucked a red rose from the garden, she had roughly fifteen minutes before she expected Michael home.

After a quick hot shower, Aimee sprinted to the kitchen to grab a pair of champagne flutes and retrieve the champagne and fruit from the fridge.

Back in the bedroom, Aimee cut the tags from her new underwear and put them on. The small, pink candles had been lit and positioned thoughtfully around the small bedroom.

Once everything was completed and she had a few minutes to spare Aimee sent her husband a cryptic text message; Dinner is in the bedroom…

Aimee sipped at her champagne to calm her nerves. The excitement buzzed and churned in her stomach like a thousand butterflies caught in a net. She stood up off the bed and gazed out the window anticipating Michael’s arrival.

Eventually, after a few more anxious minutes, Aimee shrieked in joy as she heard his car impact on the gravel of the driveway and his key scraping the front door lock.

Michael was home!

Aimee jumped back onto the yellow double bed and struck her most seductive pose. Her heartbeat increased wildly as she placed the rose on her stomach. She could not believe how crazy and nervous she felt. Rejection never entered her head.

"I am for dinner," whispered Aimee as Michael entered the bedroom. The shock registered on his face for a few minutes before he joined his wife on the bed, pulling off his tie as he went.

Three miles away, Beverly salvaged her meal for one out of her green microwave. After grabbing a can of coke from the fridge, Beverly entered her living room and flung herself down on the couch.

In preparation for her night, Beverly had changed into her unflattering yet comfortable grey tracksuit. She ate her bland meal in silence before turning her television onto the news.

Beverly glanced at her mobile phone for any new text messages and sighed deeply when she realised that she had none. She only really received them from her mother anyway. In reality, Beverly did not have the confidence to attract men, she had no social life, no friends and no hope.

Beverly wished more than anything that the daily stories she told her colleagues were true - more than anything she hated to be alone.


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