The Online Experience

April 8, 1996 (part 4)

The afternoon seemed to move along quickly, between getting him checked out of the hotel and getting everything, including his sleek black rental car moved over to my apartment complex, the day just seemed to fly past me. Our conversations had remained lite, both of us appearing to tiptoe around any potentially heavy topics of conversation. As the weighty blanket of night fell over my familiar little college town, we found ourselves milling about my apartment, Prince trying to get settled by placing his belongings in the places he would normally keep them. As I watched him meticulously unpacking his shaving kit, carefully placing each item on the bathroom vanity, I realized I'd failed to make plans for dinner; at least plans that would fit a vegetarian.

"Lets go out for dinner." Stopping in the middle of setting his shaving cream on the countertop and glancing over his shoulder at me. A look that told me he had something to say, but didn't know how. Hazel eyes drifting from mine for a moment, searching, as if the correct words were laying around the bathroom floor and he only need to put them in the right order. Carefully watching him, studying his every nearly pained looking move, and after a few minutes it dawned on me, what could possibly be his unvoiced concern.

"Um. . ." Deep voice tense with filler and for whatever reason it bothered me. His unwillingness to face the elephant in the room head on was troubling.

"Yeah you're right," troubled eyes met mine, his lips shifting slightly, telling me he was nervously biting the inside of his cheek, "probably wouldn't be smart for you to be seen around town with me, since you're still a newlywed and all." Leaving those words in the bathroom with him, I turned from him, heading toward the kitchen only to take a seat at the kitchen table. The metallic sound of his small, silver flip phone hit my ears just before he appeared from the bathroom. Glancing at the device in his hand before throwing an apologetic expression my way.

"I have to take this. Can I?" Nodding his head towards my bedroom, looking for privacy for what I could only assume was a call from her, his wife. Giving him an annoyed nod as I rolled my eyes and turned my gaze to the window that looked out over the nearly empty parking lot. Wife, the word kept rolling over and over in my head as flashes of the night before came to mind. My body spread out on this table, our sweat and moans filling the air around us. Wife, he has a wife. I've agreed, without giving it a second thought to be his mistress essentially. There was a knot in the pit of my stomach, but what bothered me most was the fact the I wasn't bothered as much as I thought I should be about this whole situation; about my role in all this. After was felt like nearly a half hour he emerged from my bedroom, a sheepish grin lifting his cheeks slightly, making him appear more boyish than ever.

"So how's the wife?" My voice was cold as he took a seat in the plain pine colored chair to my left.

"Sorry I had to make another call." Trying to dance around my question, annoying me even more. Deceptively delicate looking fingers reaching out, resting softly against the back of my hand, as if he could sense my change in attitude.

"I need to know what this is? Am I your friend? Your mistress? Does she know about me? Does she know you're here right now?" Cocking his to the left, surprised eyes taking in my features as he drew a deep, chest moving breath.

"Ok, this is complicated." I couldn't contain the cynical laugh that I had become so accustom to using when I read that word from him in our online conversations.

"Well, just go ahead an try to explain it." Narrowing my eyes at him slightly, waiting, nearly sure he was going to try to back out of being honest with me.

"Yes she knows about you." His eyes steady in mine, not shying away as I had expected. "She's known about you for months, since before the holidays." His tongue sneaking out to wet his lips as those fingers wrapped around the curve of my hand that was resting on the table. "A few days before the wedding I told her we've met, I didn't go into detail." His defined eyebrow twitched up momentarily as if silently asking if that was everything i wanted to know.

"I can't imagine her being ok with you being here, that is if she even knows." Flipping my hand over on the table, letting his fingertips come to rest in my palm, while holding his gazing. Daring him to tell me everything, to answer my every question.

"She has no choice but to be ok with it." Furrowing my brow at the words that caused no reaction on his face.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That's the complicated part Sydney." A warning to encourage me to steer clear of the topic, but my incessant gaze clearly said that wasn't an option at this point.  Bringing his free hand up to the table and grasping my other hand, his eyes finally gave in and looked down to study the sight of his talented hands wrapped firmly around mine. "She knows I don't love her, that I only married her for the baby. She signed a contract before we got married. . ."  That deep, steady voice trailed off and I leaned closer to him.

"Like a prenup?"

"No." He leaned closer to me, mirroring my movement, bringing us painfully close together, and bringing our clasped hands down to rest on his muscular thighs. "The contract outlines that our marriage is based solely on the pregnancy. That once the baby is born a parentage test will be completed to determine if I am the father and if I am not the marriage will immediately be annulled. It also outlines what I am allowed to do during the pregnancy and that she cannot take any action against me for doing those things."

"You mean, the contract says you're allowed to cheat?" His brow furrowed slightly, a nervous expression reflected from his always overly confident eyes.

"The contract specifically states that I am allowed to spend up to 50% of my time with Sydney Wells, including any physical relationship we decide to engage in." The confidence in his voice faltered as my full name passed over his lips. His fingers wrapped tighter around my hands as I tried to make sense of everything he'd just told me. He'd planned this, planned it to the extent that I was included in a contract with his wife. That us having sex was included in that contract. A contract his wife, the potential mother of his child signed. My head shook as my bewildered eyes studied the table top,

"Hold on, " shaking my head hard, a slightly indignant laugh filling the space between my words as I looked back to his eyes, "you're telling me, your wife signed a contract saying you can have sex with me and she has no recourse?" Pursing his full lips and shifting his head nervously in response to my question before his mouth opened.

"Yes."

"I need a fucking drink."