Chapter One - Curtis
"I'm sure that it's healed up." Trisha Montgomery moaned.
"What has?" Ruth Fletcher asked.
Ruth was Trisha's oldest friend and confidant. The two women were outside the Island Bar, on the balcony that was overlooking the ocean. Each had a long, early evening, spritzer on the table between them.
"My pussy, it's healed up through lack of use!" Trisha moaned again and then drained her glass.
"Isn't Geoff performing often enough?" Ruth queried with a grin. Geoff's was Trisha's husband. A successful and therefore wealthy business man Geoff was also over twenty years Trisha's senior.
"Often enough! Occasionally would be nice." Trisha snorted.
"Is it really that bad?" Ruth said sympathetically.
"Probably worse, he's now come up with the idea of separate bedrooms. Said he couldn't sleep with me alongside him. So now we have separate bedrooms, I mean that kills off any chance of hanky panky. Soon I'll have to make an appointment to even have breakfast with him." Tricia pushed her empty glass towards her friend.
"I'll get another round in ... then we can talk." Ruth suggested.
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"I'm just a trophy, like the boat, the cars, and house. I'm a living, breathing trophy ..." Trisha finally said after another round of drinks. "He dresses me up and takes me out, just to say to everyone 'look at me, past fifty and satisfying this gorgeous young woman.' Like I said, I'm a trophy and a very frustrated trophy."
"Have you talked to him; told him you want some attention?"
"I tried, but it's as if he switches off when I talk about us. All that happens is that I get angry."
"So, is this a love thing?" Ruth could remember the boozy evenings she'd shared with Trisha when some six years earlier Geoff Montgomery had bombarded an impressionable Trisha Bowler with flowers and gifts. Even then Ruth had had her doubts, but she'd said nothing. Trisha was being offered a life of comfort that Ruth could only fantasise about.
"He still wants me around, and other than the sex stuff I can have anything I want, and I like him. I mean he's generally kind, generous, he can be good company. He just isn't very tactile." Trisha let out a deep sigh. "And this conversation is only making me hornier." She complained.
"So ..." Ruth started many sentences with the so word. "What about getting yourself a few girls toys?"
Trisha smirked. "I have toys; the good thing about having your own room is that you can play without being disturbed. It's just that a toy can't replace what it feels like to be held by a man."
"So, take a lover, be discrete but find somebody." Ruth suggested.
"I'll place something in the personal column ... horny woman needs to get laid ... often." Trisha laughed. Just talking about her problem was a kind of stress relief.
"Don't ever bring them back to your place!" Ruth laughed her warning. "Geoff may not understand some young stud in your bed."
"I'll rent somewhere, near the beach. I could do with some space, somewhere that Geoff hasn't bought." Until that moment it had been a joke, the whole conversation had been a joke. It was just a way of Tricia getting rid of some of the frustrations she was feeling.
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'Laid, get yourself laid.' The more Trisha replayed that idea then the more it appealed. 'Á no nonsense, straight forwards fuck, preferably with somebody I'll never meet again.' She liked that idea; it was just how she could engineer the event.
Once it had occurred to her the solution was so frighteningly simple. Geoff gave her a generous allowance and never enquired as to how she spent it. Now she would take advantage of that and rent herself a small apartment, somewhere anonymous. Even if she didn't 'score', it would be somewhere to chill.
Trisha replayed her idea to Ruth. "So, then you just go out and pick someone up?" Ruth asked. She was just a little surprised that Tricia was taking things this far. She had thought that their little chat had just been a booze fuelled joke.
"Something like that." It was that bit which, in truth, bothered Trisha. The 'fancy a fuck' approach seemed more suited to a prostitute. She had to refine her approach; roaming bars wasn't her idea of fun.
"It'll just take practice." Ruth said and they both laughed at the implications behind the remark.
"I agree; lots and lots of practice." Trisha agreed and they started laughing again.
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The apartment was neither tatty nor basement bargain material. A prime location, the apartment overlooked the beach, separated only by a single vehicle road. Only the relative lack of nearby amenities kept the rent down.
Tricia had found the place by accident, spotting the sign in a second-floor window as she'd been driving to see her therapist. The owner wanted to let the single bed apartment for only six months whilst she was travelling through Europe. It was perfect, a short lease in case Tricia tired of the game.
The apartment was clean, well-decorated and furnished. Neither the décor nor the furnishings were quite to Tricia's taste, but she could always spend a few dollars. Even that would add to the game. She could tour the small shops in the area, get a chance to meet people and scout the area.
Ruth helped her to move her few things in. "So, Geoff's doesn't know anything?"
"Not a thing. I'm paying cash for everything, even set up a separate account addressed to here for the rent." Trisha explained. "The tenancy is in the name of Trisha Riley."
Trisha thought that was clever. Ruth wasn't so sure; Riley was Trisha's family name. An idiot could see through that little disguise.
"I'm impressed, so what's the plan?" Ruth said, keeping her thoughts to herself.
"For anyone who needs to know I'm a writer looking for some local colour." Tricia stopped and glared at her friend. "I know I'm looking for that but what I meant was ... some inspiration for a novel."
"Getting humped stupid should give you some local colour!" Ruth laughed.
"You dirty cow!" Tricia snorted.
