Roleplay

A wrinkled linen dress. A slim faux leather belt. A pair of plastic sunglasses with scratches on the frame. Lastly, a lipstick that seems to be the only unused thing in the package.

A card slips out as I scoop the box up with the brown wrapping paper it came out of.

28 July 3pm, Pyrmont Pedestrian Bridge.

I wasn’t expecting a location that’s so, well, out in the open. Under normal circumstances, one would’ve picked somewhere more secluded, or at least darker, like a cinema. But I guess right now, a bridge in broad daylight will do just fine.

“I’m gonna go get some groceries tomorrow.” I announce as I run the lipstick along my lips. This type of plummy red never does me justice, but rules are rules.

Mori mumbles a vague acknowledgement from the other end of the living room, paying no attention to my darker than usual lips, the linen dress I’m fitting over my body in front of the mirror, or the mysterious box that he wouldn’t remember ordering from Amazon.

I can’t believe I was so nervous about this. All the sophisticated excuses and backstories that I practiced in my head seem completely unnecessary. Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll walk out of this apartment in this outfit, and go meet a man who’s not my husband.

It’s as simple as that.

* * *

I realised I needed a break when I kissed Mori with my eyes open.

It wasn’t intentional. I just dropped out of the moment while he was still in it. It felt like waking up in the middle of a dream and having absolutely no interest in going back to sleep again.

I had seen people sucking on each other’s faces on television a million times. But from this angle, it wasn’t quite as appealing. My entire vision was blocked by a fleshy blur, and the tip of his nose kept poking my cheekbone―Mori always pressed too close too hard when kissing, as if my face was a towel he’d use to wipe off the foam after a shave. He’d tilt his head to a different side halfway through then repeat his work so the kiss was, in a way, perfectly symmetrical, just the way he liked everything else.

He didn’t open his eyes once, not even a peek. Should I take that as a compliment?

I don’t think it’s about me.

I told Sue about the kiss. She said nothing but sent me a link. That was her answer to my queries as to her marriage which had lasted for over a decade.

47 yo athletic man seeking feminine, caring woman with traditional values

Seasoned sophisticated artistic lady seeking bubbly young man with bright smile and a can-do attitude (experience in firefighting, baywatching and professional sports will be highly regarded)

Open-minded couple seeking adventurous spirit for once in a lifetime experience

Sue watched me browse through the website with a smirk on her face and a glass of red in her hand. She didn’t end the Zoom call or even look away, like she was just sharing her new recipes.

They say you gotta taste the rainbow. She raised her glass. Well, this is the 2021 rainbow.

Mori came out of his study while we were talking. He opened the fridge behind me and gulped a glass worth of milk straight from the carton. The website was still open on my laptop screen, and if he glanced over, he would’ve seen it.

It was also at that moment, an ad popped up with its sound on. A woman’s inviting moans rained down on the kitchen island.

Is that Sue? Mori asked as he put the milk carton back, then he returned to his study and shut the door before I said a thing.

So I typed in my email address and registered a new account.

People could have lockdown novels, lockdown pets, why not lockdown affairs?

I could use some time outside anyway, maybe the sunshine would make me less transparent.

* * *

“You look great in that.”

Mike looks just like the kind of guy who you’d expect to have affairs at some point in his 40s. Soft voice, shy smile, awkward manners wrapped in tailored suits. He’s probably worked at the same well-paying job for twenty years, married the girl he started dating in high school, had a few kids he loves as much as the marriage. Then before he realised, he had got to this age where every daddy joke he cracks could burst out as a scream.

“I’m not going to ask about the story behind this outfit.” Although, I have an inkling of how tedious it might be.

“Are those comfortable shoes?” He asks as he leads me towards the ghost town near the harbour.

At the end of Pyrmont Pedestrian Bridge is the newly developed tech park. A forest of office buildings for big techs and start-ups and nothing else. It comes with a pleasant harbour view which complements the modest aesthetics of the concrete and it is, indeed, completely empty in these strange times.

“I never know how to behave in front of an attractive lady.” He smiles.

I bet that’s also what he said to his wife.

About ten minutes in, this begins to feel like a normal first date. You ask about each other’s backgrounds and hobbies like filling out a recruitment checklist, then you pull out every trick in your bag because you want your date to fall for you before the day ends. And you are so busy getting a laugh you don’t have the time to consider whether you like them.

“I totally lucked out that I found you.” Mike has loosened up, and even starts skipping a little. “I know we just met, but there’s something sweet about you.”

There’s something sweet about you.

I first heard that line in American Psycho. A blonde model said this to Patrick Bateman when they walked down the night street side by side like two exhausted travellers who had finally met the only soul in the world that understood them. Then the next scene, her head was in his fridge.

So I have mixed feelings about the word “sweet”.

Mike picks up my hand and brings it to his lips. I would’ve stopped him if his wedding band didn’t mock me with its subtle gleam.

Witness this. I sneer at that piece of overpriced metal.

“How long have you been married?” I pop the worst question for a first date.

“Huh? I’m not married.” He grins. “I’m wearing this ironically.”

Strange enough, that resumes my faith in humanity by half an ounce. At least one of us isn’t cheating.

“Well, I can write you a thousand-word essay on my cynicism about marriage and monogamy,” he continues. “But since you’re here, you probably don’t need me to tell you any of that, do ya?”

He’s right―the “why” doesn't matter. Sure, if I had a more reliable father and a happier mother, I might have had more faith in marriage, or less resentment about its limitations. But in the big picture, it hardly makes any difference. I’d still get disenchanted eventually, although it might take longer. If it takes longer than a lifetime for the disenchantment to catch up, I’d call that a good life. Some people get that and some don’t.

Mike stands still then turns to me.

“Now, where do we go from here? I can tell you that I think you're special, that I’m happy to go slow and entertain all your needs until you’re comfortable, like the gentleman ladies want me to be. You can act like this isn’t an affair, you’re just a hopeless romanticist who’d look for 'true love' at any ridiculous place. We can keep on doing this until I’m sick of playing this character and you realise nothing changes even if you replace whoever is in your house right now with me. But is that what you want?”

* * *

Mike’s office sits on the second top floor of the building overlooking the harbour. He has been working for the same company for twenty years―I got that part right.

The kiss is very different from what I’m used to. His nose barely touches my face and his lips move in a soft stamping motion. For a moment, it feels like I’m head bunting a cat. I hold back my giggles and peek.

His eyes are open.

Mike takes my peek as the signal for moving on and lays me down on his desk. The sky looks closer from this position. That clear blue could melt down and swallow me whole and I’d be okay with that. I wonder whether this is what fish are after when they swim up to the surface.

The office door pops open when Mike’s hands move further up from my chest.

“Don’t mind me.” Sue hops onto the desk and wiggles her butt to just inches away from where my face is. She leans over and greets me with a bright smile from above. Now I can’t see the sky.

A force tightens around my neck and temporarily lifts me off the desk. Mike is choking me with the faux leather belt he removed from me minutes ago. He looks me in the eye and whispers: You do taste sweet.

And I thought erotic asphyxiation was a thing of the past.

“So you did that ‘where do we go from here’ stuff again?” Sue asks.

Mike nods and keeps up his business with me.

“What’s the appeal in that, exactly?” Sue shakes her head.

“Women love honesty.” Mike enlightens her.

“Honesty and cynicism are two different things.”

“Not much reaction from that American Psycho crap, though.”

“Really? Weird, she told me she liked it.” Didn’t you? Sue leans over again and asks me with a wink.

I would’ve clarified that if I could stop gagging, or breathe. I tap on Mike’s forearm to let him know he needs to chill out a little―this is getting creepy for me.

Mike breathes out a loud sigh and turns to Sue. She takes over the belt so he can focus on what he has to do. Surprisingly, Sue’s strangling is just as abrasive as his, if not more.

“You got a five-o’clock today?” She asks.

“Cancelled. She hasn’t got her package yet.”

“Give it some time. Everybody needs delivery now.”

“Or, if you posted it earlier―”

“―Don’t tell me what to do. I get that shit in my house everyday.”

I could be mistaken as I’m losing too much oxygen, but I think Mike rolled his eyes. The dialogue becomes distant as my vision goes darker, but its content is as predictable as any couple’s fight I’ve overheard. She brings up all the other occasions where he was being petty and insensitive. He tries to continue his action but he’s now too bumped out, so he gets off me and goes quiet, which drives her into her own sulk because she’s sick of not getting an answer. Nevertheless, none of that took her hands off the belt for even a second because she can multitask.

My phone on the far end of the desk starts buzzing like mad and breaks the ice between them. Probably Mori. He’s finally wondering why my grocery trip is taking so long, or, he just wants to tell me what he needs from the supermarket.

Mike picks it up and frowns at the unfamiliar name on the screen. Sue snuggles closer and takes the phone off his hand. That gives her an excuse to touch him, and him, a reason to respond. They kiss, deep.

Before the light goes out, I see Sue slap on Mike’s shoulder and jump off the desk, as if she’s just come up with the best idea of her life.

“Do you want to do a man for a change?”