[Rogue]

The waiter takes our plates, and then Christian turns to me and his words make my blood run cold. He reminds me that he’s a successful surgeon and expects to be paid for his work. I can’t believe he would put me through this charade just to tell me he won’t do the operation!!! To my intense frustration, I feel my eyes start to sting with tears.

“You are here, Tess, for balance. You’re here to tell me what I’m getting out of this.”

I stare at him in utter amazement. I remember his comment about Tom telling me to “do what I have to do.” Am I to be the “balance” that tips the scales in my father’s favor? Well, he’d better think again, because he’s got the wrong idea!!

I grab my bag and get up to leave, but he blocks my path, grabbing my wrist.

“Let me go,” I hissed at him, trying to pull away.

Christian’s cruel words cut me like knives. “Here’s my summation. Your father is fifty-six years old. He’s had two heart attacks in the past 6 months. He’s weak and you’re almost afraid to hug him in case it kills him. He has no insurance, no savings. He has no job or way of getting a loan. We’re fuckin’ talking last resort here. I mean, let’s call a spade a spade, Tess. You’re desperate.”

He leans in to me and whispers, “I will never sign that paper until I get what I want.”

He releases my wrist and sits back down. I remain standing, frozen. The waiter, seeing us standing, has come running. Christian tells him that he regrets, but one meal may be wasted. The waiter looks at me and asks, “I’m sorry, Miss. Are you leaving?” Christian’s commanding voice says peremptorily, “Are you?”

Numb, I sit down, avoiding his eyes. Christian is right - I have no choice. I pick up my fork but can do no more than slide the food around on my plate. Christian reaches over and cuts a piece off the duck breast on my plate, blows on it to cool it, and puts it in front of me. My mind rebels at the thought of submitting to this intimate gesture, but I allow him to feed me.

Christian starts to eat his own food. “Mmmm, this is the most delicious duck I’ve ever had”

My voice sounds strange even to myself. “What’s really going on with your wife? Why would you show me those family pictures if you are here to betray them?”


Tess’ head turns slightly away from my harsh breath as I clarify that the ink of my pen will never touch that contract until she does everything I want tonight. I free her arm and she is rooted to the spot. When the waiter comes back with our dinner, he finds me in my seat and my stunned date still standing beside the table.

“I’m afraid one of these delicious meals may be wasted, my friend.”

Holding two trays, he asks her if she will be leaving us already, which has no response, so I promptly repeat the question with my voice raised. There is no choice in the matter and my time is being wasted. She inevitably takes her seat again, barely aware that she is being assisted. The main course is a perfect medium rare duck breast topped with cracked Jordan almonds, mildly sweetened with a honey wine jus. This is accompanied by a rich, flavorful duck leg confit. Her eyes are hiding from mine while she picks up her cutlery. I had looked forward to watching her eat but the directionless scraping against the plate soon becomes tiresome.

I lean over with my own knife and cut the first piece for her, nudging her hands out of the way. After a little blow it is held in front of her. She looks my way for the first time since our tiff and hesitates as expected. Tess opens her mouth and I guide the food in, letting her lips close before slowly sliding the fork out again. Some romance has crept into our arrangement. This seems to persuade her to be more active so I decide to leave her be for now. I finally have the opportunity to begin my meal and savour the taste of this scrumptious breast; I can’t believe I hadn’t tried it here before. Tess wants the truth about Lisa and I, and demands to know why I would openly discuss my family if I had always intended to betray them.

“I could ask you the same thing about young Tommy. Tell me what you said to him and I’ll gladly do the same regarding Lisa.” This is met with silence. I've challenged her hypocrisy in questioning my relationship when she obviously doesn’t have a solid enough one to tell him where she really is – or at least prove otherwise.

“The reason I showed you the pictures and the text message, was for neither a guilt trip nor to put our minds at ease. It was to get it out of the way – because it’s all irrelevant. Tomorrow morning Katie will play with her toys and Joey with his friends, as normal. Their lives will be completely unchanged. This is a private arrangement between the two of us.”

I feel I am being rational but Tess’ reaction continues to suggest my comments are absurd. She says it sounds like I’ve done this before, and asks if all the women I commit adultery with are half my age. I twist my wedding ring around my finger and laugh to myself. She is trying to talk me out of this based on uninformed assumptions. My warning about persisting with the topic of my wife has not been heeded and there will be consequences.

“I want your panties on the table”


“I could ask you the same thing about young Tommy. Tell me what you said to him and I’ll gladly do the same regarding Lisa.”

I can’t answer him. I remember my text message to Tom guiltily. I feel Christian’s eyes on me. He tells me in a monotone that both his wife and Tom are irrelevant. That their lives will go on starting tomorrow morning. What could he mean by that? I can feel my temper rising to the surface.

“I take it you’ve done this before,” I say bitterly. “Are all the women you commit adultery with half your age?”

He looks down at his hands and twists his wedding ring. His blue eyes raise to mine and narrow.

“I want your panties on the table.”

“What?” My eyes widen and my jaw drops.

“Your underwear, Tess. Take it off.”

“Go to hell.”

His commanding voice explains, “We've been through this already. You wear what I want, when I tell you to wear it. Or I could just tear up this contract right now.”

His hand rests on the contract. I realize numbly that I have only two choices – do as he says or let my father die. This man is in complete control. I look around the restaurant, trying to figure out how to take my panties off without being seen. I see a couple to my left, feeding and gazing at each other, making me think with a pang of Tom and me. To my right an elderly woman is eating with a younger man; the familial resemblance is obvious, so I guess they are mother and son.

I slip my hands under my dress, and lean forward. I keep my head down and try to cover what I’m doing with my arms. The man to my left looks over and I freeze, but I realize that he is trying to catch the waiter’s eye – he’s not looking at me. I try to move casually and act like I’m picking something up off the floor as I slide my panties off my feet and crumple them into a ball in my hand, putting them on the table. My face burning, I see the older woman looking at me oddly. I am intensely aware of my nakedness under the black dress.

Christian reaches over and lifts my hand off the crumpled cloth. People are walking near us and I’m intensely uncomfortable leaving that small piece of cloth on the table.

Christian slides the panties to him and spread them out on the contract in front of him, a clear reminder of who is in charge now. My face is so hot with embarrassment that it feels like I’m about to burst into flame.

Christian tells me to turn in the chair and sit with my legs apart, facing the elderly woman to my right.

“What? Oh, God. Why?”

In answer, Christian takes the contract by the edge as if to rip it up.