IN SEARCH OF A MISTRESS
Oliver, what on earth are you doing? my husband stared at me as I threw him a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
Nothing much. While youre lazing about, all the mistresses will be snatched up! I pulled the duvet clean off him, and the sudden cold sent Mr. Michelin-man into a fit of shivers.
What are you on about?
After what you said yesterday about it only being a matter of time before you found yourself a mistress, Ive taken action. The hour has struck, Oliver. Its half five: time to get up and march off to the battlefield of infidelity.
I was only joking, for goodness sake. Wed just had a row, remember? Im sorry, I was out of order.
No, no, you made a point. The faults mine. I let the passionate blaze between us burn out. Spent all the petrol fuelling just myself, havent I? Now theres only a heap of ash you couldn’t even bake a jacket potato in it. Im putting my mistakes right. Up you get!
Are you throwing me out?
Im throwing you in! Youll be working out every single day until you shake off that spare tyre. A mistress isnt a wife she wont put up with you looking like the Michelin mascot. Now get up, I mean it!
Knowing I wouldnt let up, Oliver obediently rolled out of bed and, as penance for his imagined sins, pulled on the shorts over his boxers.
Make a note, love we need to buy you proper swimming trunks. With those billowing boxers, youll get swept clean off the love seat with the smallest gust.
After ten minutes jogging around the garden with me trailing behind as coach, Oliver staggered through the back door resembling a beached whale, collapsed, and started dragging himself to the sofa by his teeth.
Where dyou think youre off to? I blocked his path.
Id like to pass away in my sleep.
Not on my watch were searching for a mistress, not a coroner. Go have a shower. Twice a day from now on, at least. You might not have cared about poisoning me with your manly musk, but you mustn’t subject some poor stranger to it. Oh, and youll need to brush your teeth morning and night too! I called, already halfway out the door. Wash your hair, were off to the photography studio today.
Why?
To get a decent photo for your dating profile, of course. I can’t snap it myself, I know you far too well Ill only see the cargo handler, beer connoisseur, and fried-pasta enthusiast I married, not the sort of alpha-male we need to advertise.
Emma, honestly, this has gone far enough.
Dont waste good English on me, save it for impressing the ladies. Now, lets choose a candidate.
At that, Oliver perked up: hed always had a guilty pleasure scrolling through dating sites, and for the first time, he was allowed. He started tapping at the screen.
What about her?
Are you serious?
Why not?
Oliver, your mistress should make me ashamed of myself, not you. Just look even our old Micra looked better before we sold it. You could slap a sign on her: Caution: façade may be crumbling.
Alright, what about this one?
You mean this? Honestly, Oliver, how would I look people in the eye if my husband cheated with just anyone? Look here, now thats a proper option!
Youve lost your mind. Shed never even look at me.
Good grief What on earth did I see in such a spineless Mr. Bean? What did you do to win me over that weve lasted fifteen years?
My dazzling wit?
Ollie, lets be real: if laughter really prolonged life, Id have been a widow before our honeymoon ended. Lets not tempt fate come on, lets get you into a proper suit. Well try live bait hunting.
Please, Emma, lets patch things up.
And wheres the argument? Having a mistress is a sign of success. The wife of a successful man is a status symbol too. Actually, perhaps one mistress just isn’t enough.
At the shopping centre, I dragged Oliver into the poshest shop, stripping every mannequin along the way.
Em, these trousers and jacket cost as much as a set of winter tyres, he objected as I shoved him towards the fitting room.
Not to worry, darling, well pick you up some protection from Boots theyve got all the tyres you could want: winter, summer, even double-layered. I dont care for surprise bouquets gracing our home.
Emma!
What? Safety first. Were not buying a scooter, were securing the hypotenuse of our obtuse little triangle. Have you phoned your boss, by the way?
What for? he straightened his new jacket.
For a pay rise, obviously. How will you support two women on your salary? I can manage on homemade stew, but a mistress wont. Theres a formula: one dinner, three glasses of wine, a five-star hotel Skimp on any of that and the foundations will soon sink.
Oliver finally emerged, adjusting his tie.
Handsome as the day we married, I dabbed my eyes.
Looks great on you, said the lady next door in the changing room.
Fancy taking him home? Hes mistress-hunting.
No thanks, love, Ive already got a man actually, three, she grinned.
Oliver, steer well clear of the likes of her, I said sharply. We need someone faithful trusty as a savings account at another bank where you could safely transfer some assets. Right, next stop: scents. Well spritz you with something irresistible and send you soaring into the world.
We wandered that shopping centre for another hour before I finally nodded, satisfied.
Youre ready, Oliver. Even without a photo. Off you go, and dont forget: be confident, charming and determined just like the day you sold our Micra.
I hurried home to make stew, and Oliver set out on his quest for a mistress a journey hed spent all day preparing for.
An hour later, the intercom rang in my flat.
Good afternoon, lovely lady. Is your husband home? a deep, velvet voice, somehow intimate and thrilling, sent a brushfire through my chest.
Oh! the ladle tumbled from my hand, overwhelmed. No, hes gone to his mistress.
Reckon youll let me in? Ive something to offer you.
His sultry, mysterious tone made me go hot and cold. I almost went for the Lemsip but changed my mind and jabbed the entry button three times. Oliver appeared at our door three minutes later, clutching a bouquet of red roses, and slipped an arm round my waist in the cramped hallway. Suddenly, the whole place felt stifling.
Have you been crying? Oliver peered at my puffy eyes.
A little. Just realised I broke everything, but now I see all those sticks were needed for the bonfire.
So, would you care to spend this evening with a pleasant and fascinating gentleman? Olivers eyes sparkled with passion, plus, it seemed, about two shots worth of brandy courage. Im taking you to a restaurant where Ill tell the remarkable story of your beauty. Its entirely factual, but youll love it.
Y-y-yes please, I managed, slipping easily into the game, just let me take the stew off the hob and put some mascara on.
Ill call a cab, Oliver nodded.
Where to? I couldnt hide my silly grin.
A five-star restaurant!
This is Cheltenham, darling. The best weve gots Five Cheeses Pizzeria.
Then thats where well go. For my mistress, only the very best.
And your wife, wont she be jealous?
Thats the idea well do our utmost to make her seethe, said Oliver, winking slyly.
