What We Say In The Dark Ch 03

[Author's note: Cassie failed to confront her cheating husband about Lily. Unable to bear the thought of what it means for her life, she has compartmentalised. Before she is able to move forward Cassie needs an answer to a burning question: was it a once-off fling or is it love?]

---

THE CHALLENGE OF PLACING ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER

Cassie made everyone breakfast, got the boys ready for school and made their lunches. Sam grizzled about the type of snack bar she had bought; Charlie forgot where he'd left one of his school shoes. She watched the clock ticking away the minutes as the usual circus unfolded in front of her, checking her work schedule to see which clients were booked in with her today like she would normally do, while directing traffic in the kitchen because that was what a mother would do. Damian stopped in the hallway, pulling her close and kissing her as the boys circled them. Cassie kissed him back, because that was what a wife would do, especially after a night of passion with her husband.

Damian scooped up the car keys, giving both sons a hug, and headed out. Cassie managed to find the other shoe, stopping to ask Charlie how he had managed to lose just one shoe, then packed the school bags and herded the twins through the front door. The walk to school took five minutes; drop off was uneventful and she was soon on her way to the store to buy some groceries for dinner.

The store was half empty, aside from a couple of mothers from school doing the same thing. She nodded to them, exchanged a few words, while wandering the aisles collecting vegetables, beef, pasta, rice. She weighed up the pros and cons of coconut milk versus low fat coconut milk and then patrolled the cosmetics aisle looking for deodorant.

Cassie took one look at the rows of boxes of toothpaste and began to tremble. She turned towards the checkout, grimacing at the lady swiping her groceries unhurriedly through the till. Cassie stuffed her shopping into a bag, paid, and then fled the store. She barely made it to the female washrooms before she broke down.

In her mind, through the tears, were two visions: Damian, with his face close to hers last night, his body inside her, hard and strong; versus Damian, with his hands spread across the younger woman's breasts while Cassie watched from the walk-in wardrobe. She couldn't process it. Two alternate realities, one of which was familiar, comfortable, full of love, and the other a nightmare, her place in her husband's life usurped by the willowy blonde stranger.

She gripped the sides of the wash basin, paralysed, for a long time. Then, eventually, she pulled herself together to get on with her day.

---

Cassie's phone pinged: the receptionist was letting her know her appointment had arrived. She took one last look around the meeting space to satisfy herself that everything was in order, then headed out to the lobby area. It was a good arrangement; the meeting space granted her up to ten hours a week, giving her a professional environment to meet clients without the hassle of setting up her own office or having to make house calls. She could appear professional and give her clients a clean, welcoming place to discuss their issues. It also felt good to be in a different environment, away from kids and home life. Especially now, but she repressed that line of thought mercilessly, tucking it away into a separate compartment in her mind. She couldn't afford to break down again, not with clients waiting.

Cassie smoothed her blouse as she walked and fussed with her hair, dressed in a pair of dark trousers and low heels. She straightened her back, and took a deep, calming breath, pushing away the other parts of her life to concentrate on her clients for the next hour.

She saw the man and the woman in the reception area and waved them over. The woman moved first, her partner tagging along behind, reluctantly. Cassie welcomed them into the meeting space and closed the door.

"Good to see you again," she said, "Won't you take a seat? Sit anywhere you feel comfortable."

The man hesitated, but when his wife selected the sofa, he dutifully took his place next to her. Cassie selected a chair opposite. She smiled brightly at the couple sitting in front of her, as if the act would lift her own spirits and push away the other thoughts to the back of her mind. Burying her own feelings wasn't healthy, as a psychologist she knew that better than most people, but for the next hour she needed to put her clients first.

"Kiko," she began, directing her attention to the slim, black-haired woman before her, "Do you want to go first? How have you been since we spoke last?"

The woman nodded, smiling shyly, before replying in a soft, gentle voice, "Good. I have no complaints."

Brett shifted in his seat, grumbling, "That's not true, otherwise we wouldn't be here."

The corners of Kiko's mouth turned down briefly, but then she continued. "Our life is good. We are looking forward to taking a holiday soon."

"That sounds nice," Cassie replied, easing into what was going to be a challenging conversation, "Where to?"

"We're going back to Osaka to visit my parents." She reached out and took her husband's hand in hers.

"And how about you Brett? How're you going?" Cassie asked, directing her attention to Kiko's partner.

He was a tall man, wiry rather than broad, maybe a few years older than his wife, late-thirties. He wore rounded glasses and had salt-and-pepper close-cropped hair. He was looking distinctly uncomfortable with the question.

"I don't really know how to answer that," he muttered.

"How have the exercises been going? Let's start with that."

Brett let go of his wife's hand and folded his arms across his chest.

"Okay, I think. We've been talking a lot."

"Do you still feel the same way about your wife?"

Brett tilted his head to one side, eyes fixed on Cassie. She waited, letting Brett feel comfortable filling the gap in conversation.

"No," he admitted at last, "No, I don't. We talked a lot, and I'm starting to understand her side of things."

"Do you think it's acceptable behaviour?"

Brett stood up and began to pace the room, much to Cassie's surprise.

"Do you want to take a break?" she asked.

"No. I, um," Brett replied, making a gesture with his hands. "Uh, can I speak to you privately? Is that allowed?"

Kiko's eyes widened in dismay.

"Kiko, it's up to you. This session is for the both of you."

She was watching her husband pace. Finally, she stood.

"I think if he needs to speak alone, I will give him that. I will wait outside until you call."

Kiko walked to the door, her hand resting momentarily on her husband's arm as she passed. The door closed and Brett let out a deep breath. He sat back down, leaning forward, head in hands. Cassie waited.

"The thing is," he stammered, "I... Well, I was brought up a certain way. I can't help it, and frankly, I don't want to. Women. It's a pretty fixed thing. How a wife should behave, how you should treat her."

"I see. I understand there is an element of re-learning what you grew up with. The question is whether you're willing to change for your wife."

Brett snorted. "She's pretty clear, she's not going to change to accommodate me."

Cassie noted the vehemence in his tone. Kiko seemed to be very mild and placid; they must have had bitter arguments in private to get as far as needing to come to Cassie in the first place.

"Do you think you can change?"

Brett stood up again and resumed pacing.

"Cassidy, do you know what you're asking of me? My family would disown me," he blurted angrily, "You're asking me to beat my wife."

"Brett, please sit," said Cassie, "Let's talk through what you're feeling."

Brett's pacing stalled and he flopped back down into his seat, raising his hands in the air.

"I'm feeling like I'm being railroaded."

"When Kiko suggested coming to see me, what outcome were you looking for?"

"Honestly? I was hoping you could talk her out of this. It's not right. I mean, I knew that marrying her, there would be cultural differences, but... I didn't expect this."

Cassie waited for Brett to calm himself before she continued.

"This isn't a cultural difference though. It's a personal one. What she's asking from you is something that's deep-seated. It's part of her."

"Do you think I should hit women?" Brett asked, eyes hard as marbles, "Do you think it's normal?"

"Normal is a relative term. The need for something other than the typical, uh, vanilla requirements is not unusual between couples, and if it's done consensually it can actually bring about a much stronger bond between you."

"What if I hurt her though? What if she sees a side of me she doesn't like? What if I make her afraid of me?"

"I can give you some reading on this. There are protocols you can both follow. She can choose a safeword, so you know instantly if it's going too far."

Brett slumped in his seat, running a hand through his close-cropped hair.

"I guess," he said at last.

"Okay. Shall we call Kiko back in?"

"In a minute. I've got one thing more to ask."

Brett looked up and Cassie saw the doubt in his face as he struggled to piece his thoughts together.

"Everything that happens in this office is confidential, right?"

Cassie nodded. "Doctor-patient privilege," she confirmed.

"I'd like to do it here."

"Why?"

"I have no idea what I'm doing. I guess, I dunno, uh," his hands balled into fists. "Everything I've ever done, if it was hard, I've always had backup. My brother, my Dad. Now I'm at the point that I really need backup in my relationship and there's absolutely no-one I can ask. I can't tell anyone about this, because, like I said, they'd disown me. So I'm asking you."

Cassie understood what Brett was asking. It rubbed against her professional ethics, but as she pondered his request, she had to admit that it didn't violate her own moral code. She was here to help, and Brett needed help, simple as that.

"If that's what you need, we can set up a session," she replied.

Brett seemed to relax.

"Thank you," he breathed, "Thank you so much."

---

Cassie didn't bring it up that night, even after the twins were asleep and she was left to watch a show as Damian worked away in the study. She was trying to concentrate on her entertainment choices: a rom-com, or a documentary? There was a comedy series all the mothers were raving about, so maybe she should watch that. At least she would be able to join in the conversation tomorrow at the school gates. In the background, she could hear the clatter of her husband's fingers on the keyboard. He had a big pitch to finish for a meeting in the morning and didn't want to be distracted.

At ten o'clock, she gave up the effort, turning off the show she was watching. She stood at the study doorway, looking in at her husband, still typing away. Cassie's stomach churned, knowing she had to say something, fearing what it would mean if she did. Damian appeared not to notice her, headphones on, listening to music as he finessed the wording.

If she said the words, it would be the end of her world. The comfortable, happy home, children in bed, mortgage paid up, their nice circle of mutual friends, all of it would have to be dismantled. But, she couldn't just leave it and ignore what he'd done. Without warning, Damian turned and she was suddenly face to face with her husband.

"Hey," she began, but then her voice left her.

Damian nodded, pushing the headphones back from his ears. "What's up?" he asked, but she realised it was a general question. He couldn't see the war inside her.

"Do you have time to talk?"

Cassie's heart was beating madly in her chest, her adrenaline surging like it had in the wardrobe. Damian frowned apologetically.

"I really gotta...," he said, gesturing at the screen.

Cassie stalled.

"Is there something you need to talk about now or can we do it later?" he asked.

Her resolve crumbled. "No, it's okay. I was just heading up to bed," she said, "Don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Good night."

Damian slid the headphones back on and turned back to the screen. Cassie left him to it, heading up the stairs to their bedroom. Her stomach was still churning, but she was feeling something else now: relief, like the feeling of being involved in a traffic accident, but getting out of the car unhurt. As she laid in bed, Cassie tried for a long time to work it all out in her head, using her training, treating herself as the client.

There were other scenarios. Maybe it was a one-off; maybe it was a fling without love involved; maybe it would fizzle out on its own and Damian would realise that his life with Cassie was worth more than a casual encounter with a sexy young blonde. She shuddered: it was such a cliché. How would their friends react if she went for the nuclear option? Then she thought about the boys, seeing their faces in her imagination, their tears as the family split apart, and it wrenched her guts. They would suffer, and it was that thought that tapped into a deep well of anguish inside her.

Just before sleep claimed her, Cassie had resolved a plan of action. She and Damian would need to talk, but it would be in a controlled environment, pre-planned, not standing in the study doorway while he was distracted. She wasn't going to blindside him because they both needed to be rational. She was going to work through the reasons for his actions with him, like adults. If, after all that, they came to the conclusion that he didn't love her anymore, they could move forward.

Drowsily, she concluded that it might have just been something he would only ever do that once, something to bring up at the right time. Would it be something she would end the marriage over, if it was a single indiscretion? Their bond was stronger than that. She would get them through it. Her thoughts evaporated into sleep, as she resolved a course of action. She wouldn't be going to her mother's house next Tuesday; instead, she would be waiting at home to see if history repeated itself. It was the best way to be sure.

---

Cassie dropped the twins off at school as usual and went straight to her mother's. She talked about small things and mooched around her mother's kitchen, listening to tales of the neighbour's indiscretions. Cassie nodded, ticking away the time, doing her bit for mother-daughter relations, waiting until the clock said eleven o'clock.

"Sorry," she said, interrupting her mother in full flow about a friend's daughter's love life, "I need to be home for a delivery."

Her mother frowned. "You need to go?"

"Uh, yeah."

"But you only just got here. We didn't get around yet to how you are."

Cassie shrugged. "I'm going fine. There's nothing to tell."

She watched the her mother fix her with a knowing look.

"Really," Cassie reiterated, "We're good."

Her mother shrugged and the topic swung back around to her neighbour's daughter. Cassie played along for politeness for a while before insisting that she really had to leave. Her mother acquiesced, seeming sad to lose a sympathetic ear to her stories.

Back home, Cassie rushed through the front door, checking her watch to gauge how long she had left to get into her hiding place. It was madness, contemplating what she was about to do; no sane woman would rush home to be in the wardrobe for when her husband brought his girlfriend home for a lunchtime lovemaking session. Cassie stopped, mid thought. Girlfriend? What if she really was? What if Cassie heard them talking today, what if Damian said that he loved her, just like he'd told Cassie? What would that mean?

A car door slammed. Startled, Cassie ran up the stairs into the master bedroom and into the walk-in wardrobe, cowering behind the door and straining to hear any movements from below. Too late, her rational side kicked in: what if Damian needed to change his shirt or his pants afterwards? He would have to open the door to the wardrobe and Cassie would have nowhere to hide, exposed to the stare of his blonde lover as Cassie was discovered, standing forlornly in the wardrobe. It was only blind luck that Damian hadn't opened the wardrobe door the first time. She should....

The front door opened. Damian called out her name and waited.

Cassie's world imploded, her fears confirmed as she heard a female voice downstairs. They were going to fuck on her bed, and she had backed herself into a trap, unable to run. Cassie didn't need to see it again, but now she would have no choice. Her blood pounded in her ears as she resolved her course of action. She would fling the door open when they entered the bedroom. She would launch into a screaming match with her cheating husband. Cassie would show him how furious she was, how betrayed she felt. Her hands curled into fists in the dark as the adrenaline spiked. Damian was going to find out that his meek little wife meant business.

A figure passed in front of her, clearly visible through the slatted wardrobe door. Lily was wearing a sleeveless grey blouse in a sheer, satiny material, over a pair of tight black trousers. She was walking backwards into the room, her long, straight blonde hair tied back into a ponytail, grinning playfully at someone out of sight to her left.

Damian walked into view and Cassie's heart leaped. She uncurled a fist and wrapped it around the slats, bracing herself to spring out of her hiding place.

But Damain lurched forward, wrapping his arms around the younger blonde woman, lifting her off her feet and shaking her so that her high heels fell to the carpet, making her giggle and squirm. Damian buried his face against her neck, kissing her passionately on her throat. He groaned.

It froze Cassie in shock, her hand suddenly unable to move, her eyes locked on the two of them, caught in a passionate embrace right in front of her. Cassie watched mutely as Lily's neck craned until her delicate, red lips could nibble Damian's ear, sending him into paroxysms of his own. They tumbled down onto the bed together, a mass of squirming arms and legs, giggling and laughing. Damian buried his face between Lily's beasts.

Cassie stumbled backwards, landing against one of the shelves. She froze, staring out at the bodies but they didn't seem to notice the sound, too deeply engrossed in their own passion. Her body went stiff and she tried to bring her breathing back under control, feeling the same waves of emotion crashing over her again. Fury at her husband's betrayal turned to anger at the younger woman flaunting herself on the bed, but these feelings gave way to a searing jealously that Lily could make him behave like that, with such passion and desire. How could this stranger so enflame the man she had loved all these years, that he would forget about his wife, his family, his oath to her? What made her so irresistible that her husband became a wild beast, wanting to bury himself inside her?

She was left with the devastating question: why didn't Damian do that with Cassie?

Her husband had pinned his lover to the bed, and was sitting up, straddling her lithe body. He unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his broad shoulders, baring his chest as he leaned over the younger woman. Lily's hands rose from the bed, fingers tracing his pectorals. He raised his hips and she began to unbutton his pants, pushing them down his legs, exposing his firm, sculpted buttocks. Fully naked now, her husband's body pressed against his lover, kissing and stroking her.

"You're going to mess me up," she laughed.

"Absolutely."

Damian buried his face against Lily's outstretched neck, kissing her softly as he raised himself up over her body on all fours. From Cassie's vantage point, she could see her husband's engorged manhood standing rigidly out from his groin. One of Lily's hands encircled his cock, raking the length of his shaft with her fingernails.