The Love Affair

Chapter Three

Angie was sat in a booth, applying a coat of pink gloss over her lips as I entered. She was a little older than I was, thirty three and I was naturally envious of her writing. She was a best seller in general fiction, she'd written a few children's books, dystopia type novels for teens and was best known for her book, The Trials. Angie had beautiful cameral skin, black tight curls and as far as I knew, she had a happy marriage. Unlike me, I nearly thought, instantly waving it out the window. The bar itself was not far from the business district, a small bar with purple neon lights, quaintly dimmed lit booths, tables in the centre and the bar had a couple barstools. I was glad for the distraction, I'd felt like a victim in my own home to those nagging thoughts punishing me as if I was suddenly stuck in white tiled room and victimised by a straight jacket preventing my escape.

I placed my black handbag onto the table, a whoosh of air leaving my lips as I slid into the opposite side of the booth. Angie immediately pleasantly smiled, dropping her lip gloss into her bag. "Hey, what's brought that frown onto your face? Everything okay?" she inquired, "actually, scratch that. Let me just go get our usual then you can tell me everything, okay?" Then she got up and headed towards the bar. I sat there contemplating on what I should bring up first. My lack of motivation to write, my lack of questionable interest in my sex life, Nick not turning up today and always away or that potential hottie next door which had been questioning my sanity and morals for less than 24 hours.

She soon returned holding two wine glasses slightly full to the brim. It was red rose my favourite, something I knew soothed me when I was anxious. Angie slid her purse down before she got into the booth herself. I knew I would come clean to Angie, it would help lift the weight off my shoulders.

"So? What's up, love?" she questioned, "you had your panel today, right?"

"Yep and it was great and all. I'm just still annoyed that Nick couldn't come. It's been like this for the last two months. He's always away, "I sighed, running my finger around the brim of the glass. "I guess I can't be angry, it is his business trip after-all and it pays our mortgage. And if book sales suddenly go down for me, he's the only one with money to keep us a float."

"I would be just as annoyed. He does seem to be away a lot. Can't you speak to someone in the company? And don't say that either! Your book sales will not deflate. You're a brilliant author. Speaking of. Still no luck on---"

I shook my head. "Nope. Nothing. It's like I can't even think. My mind feels empty. And you'd think with marriage and someone like Nick I'd be constantly making up fantasises. And that's the other thing."

"Your sex life?"

"Yes," I affirmed, shamefully looking into my glass I hadn't touched.

"Well, that's normal. Sometimes me and Noah have had to experiment. You know." She leaned forward as she said hushed, "spice things up. It's normal. So, I wouldn't worry about it. All married couples go through it at one point. And you'll find sometimes you'll go without sex for some time."

"I suppose." I wasn't entirely too convinced, but I could see Angie's point. "I don't know I just feel like things between me and Nick are...aren't the same. At least for me. I just don't get off easily as I once would. It's bloody ridiculous. I love this man and I'm having to fake," I said depressingly as I swallowed a mouthful of wine.

"You just need to talk it out with him. You know you and Nick could go see some sex experts. Or what about the sex you write in your books?" she asserted, raising her brow.

"The sex in books usually comes from inspiration between me and Nick, just over exaggerated. Meaning at the moment with how fed-up I'm feeling, I can't even write a word or two. I'll just need to talk to him," I claimed, knowing that will be a conversation I probably would have to come out with or choose blatantly to ignore.