Look to His Like

Chapter Five

I arrived at work to a pile of phone messages written in my secretary Lisa's loopy hand and purple pen.

Fourth from the top was a message that Steve called and please could I ring back as soon as possible.

I sat for a long time, just staring at the message, the pleasant ache between my legs induced by riotous sex with Adam Drake a short time ago reminding me that I should feel guilty. I obliged the reminder so thoroughly that I was afraid to pick up the phone and call Steve, lest he should detect the guilt in my voice when I spoke.

Now's the time, I suppose, when I have to tell you about Steve and me. Normally I would not be so reticent about facing unpalatable facts, only my shrink has had such a field day with my and Steve's relationship that it's made me nervous about dwelling on it too much. I originally went to my shrink as I was so crippled with claustrophobia that if I needed to cross to the other side of the harbour, I would walk across the Sydney Harbour Bridge rather than suffer the train or under-harbour tunnels; as this was a tad inconvenient if I needed to see a client or make a mad dash to the North Sydney Local Court, naturally I did something about it. I still walk across the Bridge, but I figure I must be pretty much well on the way to being cured of whatever ailment afflicts me in regard to Steve.

I've known Steve Van Tighem - and his wife, Leanne - since primary school. We're all the same age, all from Wagga Wagga in country New South Wales, all went to the same high school too. In actual fact, I dated Steve for a while when I was seventeen; he was my first, if you must know. Then Leanne Lang set her sights on him, and I was unceremoniously dumped.

Problem was, I couldn't hate Leanne for it. That would have been seen as poor form, because everybody liked Leanne. She was a pretty, bright, vivacious brunette, a born leader - pipped me by two popular votes for the role of head prefect, actually. Miss Perfection. After high school, we all went our separate ways, although I heard on the Wagga grape vine that Leanne and Steve had hooked up again at university, and shortly thereafter tied the knot. Leanne's now Mrs Perfection. She's still pretty, bright and vivacious. She has two perfect children, Matilda and Bradman (perfect quintessential Australian names, naturally!), both of whom she cared for herself while studying correspondence for her Masters in Education. Supermum. She's now also head mistress in all but name of an exclusive girls college called Friarsleigh in Wahroonga on the North Shore, a stone's throw from her family home.

Steve's a top actuary with one of Australia's biggest insurance companies. We met up by chance six months ago at a client function - our firm had been representing his in a class action instigated by some irate policy holders. We won, of course. Later that night, after too much champagne and infected with the high of victory, Steve accompanied me home. My shrink says it was a thumbing nose gesture at Leanne that I didn't refuse when Steve suggested shyly that we adjourn to my bedroom "like the old days."

"You want both to emulate Leanne and bring her down," Doctor Deeks said once, pressing his fingertips together and raising them to his mouth, while regarding me thoughtfully over the top of his half-moon spectacles and rocking gently back and forth in his leather recliner. "Taking her husband achieves both."

"I'm not 'taking' anyone," I responded huffily. "Steve made the first move, and he's the one who suggested we marry eventually. I happen to l- l-love him, so of course I want to go along with the plan."

"Mmm, Steve's motives here are also interesting," Doctor Deeks said, ignoring me. "You say he dotes on his wife and family, yet he still wants to keep seeing you, and intends to leave them eventually - so he says. I find that - interesting."

"He loves me. And no doubt he's sick of the perfection."

"Or - he finds it exciting to step outside the narrow, dull box in which he lives occasionally ...perhaps it makes him feel strong and forthright."

That gave me pause, for it reflected badly on Leanne, and I always liked to think of Leanne being less than perfect. "It is Leanne who wears the pants in that family," I mused. "It must be very oppressive for a man to have to live like that," I added self-righteously.

"Some men like it," said Doctor Deeks with a small smile. "And that's not what I meant, in any event. Every decision Steve Van Tighem makes at work is dictated by a statistical analysis. At least in your career, your confines - the law - are flexible and often undefined. But an actuary knows he can't argue with numbers and proven formulas. It makes for a very narrow perspective on situations, but also induces a feeling of safety within the narrow boundaries set by known conditions. Given that our education and jobs always influence the way in which we think and live, I suspect Steve finds stepping outside the boundaries set on him in his home life to be exhilarating. By being involved with you, by planning the shocking end of his marriage, he thinks he is being brave, daring, and breaking new ground."

It was a good thing I was bright enough to keep up with his palaver, how ever much I might think it total bunkum. That session was also becoming far too insulting, so I terminated it quick smart. When I turned up at the next session, I made it clear we were not to talk about my and Steve's motives in beginning and clinging to our relationship. So Doctor Deeks brought up the subject of sex - a relief in the circumstances.

"So, apart from that first time, you and Steve have not engaged in sexual relations?" asked Doctor Deeks with evident fascination. "What do you do when you meet then?"

"He comes to my house, we eat pizza and watch my DVDs of The Simpsons and MASH. Then he goes home, " I said.

"Do you talk?"

"Not much," I admitted. "Steve and I never had much to talk about."

"And there's no sex now," emphasised my shrewd shrink again.

"You got it," I said, shifting in my seat with discomfort.

"Why not?"

"Oh, well, it's just coincidence really. Steve and I can't meet that often, and when we do, as luck would have it, I have my period, or a headache, and once I sprained my ankle at the gym."

"You don't think this has anything to do with a respect you may have for Leanne? For her marriage? A sense of what's right and wrong?"

"You're contradicting your theories," I said gleefully. "How can I want to emulate and want to bring Leanne down, yet respect her?"

Doctor Deeks gave a little smile. "I don't think the two theories are mutually exclusive," he murmured. "You are a very complicated young woman."

"Rubbish," I said. "I have very simple wants. I want to do well at work, I want l-l-love, and I want great sex occasionally. What's so complicated about that?"

"Only that you're denying yourself the latter."

"Oh, Steve was never much good in bed," I said without thinking. "I'm not denying myself anything."

"Interesting." Doctor Deeks said his favourite word with a gleam and a roll of the 'r'. "Then if you're not denying yourself great sex with Steve, you're denying yourself potential great sex with someone else."

That was true enough. At that time, I couldn't cheat on Steve, no matter the strangeness of our association. It just wouldn't be right.

I disliked it just as much when my good qualities were hinted at as my bad, so I also terminated that session right there.

Now, it seemed I was not so morally upright as Doctor Deeks may have led me to believe. I had cheated on Steve - and what's more, if Adam Drake turned his CFM look on me right now, I'd fall at his feet and start doing decadent things to his loin area without a second thought. What did that say about me, apart from the fact that I may have grown dissatisfied with my vibrator? Or that I thought Adam was the hottest sexpot ever?

It was all so troubling, that I shoved Steve's message slip under the pile, and turned my attention to others.

An hour later I was standing at my bookcase checking on a point of law from a text, when David Sleezak stuck his head around the door.

"Jo, I'd like you to take on a new client ---." He stopped short, stared at me, and let out a loud wolf whistle. "My, don't you look - different."

"Put a sock in it, David," I said, taking shelter back behind my desk. David looked at me knowingly, coming into my office and throwing himself into a chair opposite. He sat directly in front of me with his legs splayed, for all the world as if he was presenting his goods to me. If a man's going to do that, there has to be something obvious to present, doesn't there, or it just looks plain silly. David looked plain silly.

"You really want your name on the door, don't you?" he mused. "But you'll have to do more than put on a dress and wear makeup. You're just a wolf in sheep's clothing."

I went cold with fright and only prayed that I did not reveal it. Desperately, I grappled for a solution.

"I don't know where you - or the other partners - got the idea that I am not seeing a man," I burst out rashly. "I am. In actual fact, I - I am getting married! Very soon, too! And we will be living on the north side, and ..." My voice trailed off. I struggled for composure. David looked interested.

"You're getting married?"

I swallowed a lump of trepidation in my throat.

"Yes - within the month," I added for good measure.

David narrowed his eyes. "Well - I must tell you, that's what it's going to take," he said, while I swallowed a gasp of horror at the unmistakable threat. "Now, about this new client ..."

I took notes as he spoke, but barely registered his words or what I was writing. My insides were in a turmoil, and tears pricked my eyes. When David left my office, I blinked them away angrily. This was no time for tears. It was time again to be assertive, and do something about my predicament, now more serious than ever as a result of my reckless claims to David. I thought of my friend Lori Siu, the best man hunter in the business, and reached out to pick up the receiver of my phone.

It buzzed to life just as I laid my palm on it. I picked it up automatically.

"Steve Van Tighem for you," said Lisa brightly, and there was a click.

"Jo?"

"Hey, Steve!" I said, crippling guilt making me lace my voice with surprised delight, as if he had made my day, my week, my life ...

"I can get away tonight," he said in a low voice, sounding pleased. "Leanne has a staff meeting and the kids will be at sleep-overs. Can I come by?"

"Sure! I'll look forward to it! Must go now, though," I said, my voice now sounding strangled with false bon homie, " ...terribly sorry! See you at the usual time ..."

I slammed down the phone and dashed perspiration from my forehead. Lord, what a mess I was in!

At that moment, I would have given anything for Adam Drake to come sauntering into my office, so I could jump on his bones and help myself to another mind-numbing orgasm or two.