That was mostly true. But really, she’d baked because he mentioned he loved Snickers bars, and she had inexplicably wanted to make him smile. Wanted to give him something, anything, for making her feel grounded and safe, like she had someone in her corner. He could be grumpy at times, but he was softening. She felt like they were becoming friends. She had her girls of course, but having someone equally as affected by the cheating felt like being in the world’s smallest support group, just the two of them.
She had one night left before Mason’s return, and she planned to use every second letting her inner petty out. It only took a few hours to sign his number up for every Ponzi scheme, sales offer, multi-level marketing scheme, and time-share pitch she could find.
Why yes, Children of Eden, I would like more information about your cult, I mean “your community”she thought,typing Mason’s name and number in the information field.Scientology? Of course I want more information.
Oh, yes, I definitely need an information pack on herpes emailed to me, Anna smirked as she typed in Mason’s details.
You and Erectile Dysfunction: It’s Not the End. Yes, he also needs that information, Anna mused.I am so thoughtful. Oh, and yeah, he definitely needed the free e-brochure on how to safely navigate the BDSM scene as a male sub. Bless the internet. The world’s information at her angry fingertips.
The sexual health clinic a town over thankfully had a “contact us” page where you could select a callback option.
Hi, I think I have pubic lice and chlamydia, and my testicles have pimples. How do I book in for testing. Please send all the information you have on testicular health. Mason Quinn.
She typed in his number and email. Okay, what now? That felt good at the time, but it was done now. Time to plan for the reunion. She couldn’t do too much to him in person without tipping him off and she definitely wasn’t going to take one for the team and fuck him when he returned. Would he even shower off his mistress before coming to her with his sad eggplant?
Time to plan for her loving fiancé’s much-awaited return.
Chapter 11: Mason—Fund shortages and designer shoes
On his flight home Sunday morning, Mason was feeling queasy. He could tell April was frustrated with him, and quite frankly, he could do without the pressure. At first it was fun. Guilt had niggled at him initially, but the more boundaries he breached, the less guilt he felt. Now that it was a full-blown affair, the guilt had returned, draining him of any joy their encounters once brought. And draining his funds quickly. The last five days between them had been tense, with equal bouts of fucking and sniping at each other. He’d had as much sex with her as his body would physically allow him to. Not because he wanted to, but because it was by far the cheapest activity possible. His dick felt like it was going to fall off. Every time they set foot out of the hotel room, she cost him money. Even in the hotel room she cost him money. Room service, in-room massages, and an insistence on tipping the “handsome” valet $100 every time he brought something up.
His line of credit was up to $40K and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep up the pretense. He’d tried to extend the limit but without Anna as a co-signer, he’d reached his maximum amount. How could he stretch the remaining $5K for another four months until Anna’s trust fund kicked in? He’d reasoned that $40K would be easy to pay off once he had millions in their shared account. He could buy a few toys—a car, a quad bike, maybe a boat—and lie to Anna about the costs. That was the original plan. But the further things went with April, he’d fallen into the trap of giving her promises to leave Anna. That was never his intention. April had started as fun, a forbidden object of lust. Her flirtatious smiles and tight, athletic body had drawn him in from the start. She had softly cooed compliments his way, laughing that he was so tall she was going to strain her necklooking at him. He’d been flattered, pleased with her attention, though he knew their height difference was minimal.
She was ambitious and forthright, qualities he admired. She’d whispered words of a future together, the two of them taking over the corporate world, living a life of luxury he could only dream about as a teen. But the deadline was looming. She was pushing him to commit and becoming frustrated with his delay tactics. This just couldn’t continue for another four months. It was time to cut April off and repair his relationship with Anna, but how? Over the last few months, he’d seen the vengeful side of April. There was no way she’d let him go without blowing their little secret. If he came clean and admitted the wealth was Anna’s, she’d be angry and blow him out of the water as retaliation for his lies. If he told her he didn’t love her and it was over, she’d still retaliate. And he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. His mother would kill him, and Brendan would be furious. All his friends and family loved Anna, and rightfully so. She was a good woman, a sweet woman who’d only wanted him and a happy future together. Having an affair was lonely. The secrecy that was once exciting now only made him feel isolated.
Surely 32 was too young for a midlife crisis. What the hell had he been thinking?
“Baby, ask the girl to get me a wine,” April demanded.
The “girl” was a cabin crew member in her 40s.
“The flight is too short. They’re not serving,” he answered.
“So, get them to! I’m sure they have wine somewhere. Why are we in cattle class anyway?”
“You know why. We used the company return tickets. If I upgraded both of us, it would be obvious to Kate and she’d question why we didn’t use the economy return tickets and why we both had to visit ‘family’ after the conference,” he explained. Plus, he could barely afford April’s lifestyle as it was.
“Shane always sorted things for me,” she pouted.
Fucking Shane. April vacillated from hating him and calling him a neglectful husband to singing his praises for how much better he was than Mason, mostly when she wanted something Mason wasn’t delivering. Mason had never met the man but felt a pang of empathy for him for dealing with April all these years. He felt like such a stereotype. The hot affair with the beautiful woman who idolized him crumbling into an everyday routine, complete with arguments. Worse still, the added burden of secrecy made those everyday niggles worse. He couldn’t vent to a friend about how unreasonable April was. He couldn’t argue with her or risk missing her calls in case she outed him. He was truly stuck, and it was his own fault.
He had two options: leave Anna, with or without her money (and without was no longer an option given his debts) or stay with Anna and somehow shut April up (money should do it). So, he’d play the game. Appease April until Anna’s money came in, pay her off, and live happily ever after with the woman he’d come to realize he truly did love.
He sat back in his seat, watching April examine herself and pout into her compact mirror. She’d asked him for breast implants; apparently Shane wasn’t forthcoming with that. To calm her and ease her demands, Mason had paid for lip filler and Botox. She absolutely didn’t need Botox at 29 years of age, but she’d insisted, and it was a hell of a lot cheaper than implants. Her small breasts didn’t bother him. Tits were tits, but she seemed very self-conscious. He closed his eyes and thought of Anna. Everything about her turned him on. She was an enthusiastic lover, willing to try new things, and in return, he treated her like a queen in bed. Never doing anything she could deem disrespectful or obscene. He handled her gently, like a considerate lover would.
Initially, April was the ideal outlet. The woman had no limits, but lately she was “tired” a lot. She never said no,but on the last night of their trip, she’d asked him to “just be quick,” which really took the wind out of his sails. They’d become like a middle-aged couple. Her griping for money and attention, him becoming frustrated with the quality and quantity of sex, although he mainly used sex to distract her from lavish spending. April had seemed so classy. She always ordered expensive wines and used a proper French accent when ordering, even if the wine was Italian or American. She loved expensive food and designer gear. He couldn’t fault the woman for having standards. But now, her “class” seemed a hell of a lot like greed. One pair of designer shoes wasn’t enough; she had to have the ones with straps, the ones with the peep toe. And why did she need a $350 bra and panty set?
The flight landed and they went their separate ways in the car park.
“Call me baby. We really need to sort out our future. You can look after me so much better than Shane can, and Anna can find a new sugar daddy to sponge off,” she insisted.
“She’s not a sponge,” Mason gritted out.
“Why are you defending her? You’re the one who told me she loves your money. What is going on with us, Mason?”
“Nothing babe, nothing. I’m just tired from the trip,” he soothed.
Now to go home and play happy with Anna while wrestling with his guilt and stress.
