Some time passes, and then she says, ‘How about Bintan?’
‘For what?’
‘For a weekend.’
‘Ya, okay. Can.’
‘Okay. I’ll book it.’
‘Wait. What weekend? I have golf next three ones.’
‘Honey,’ she says, looking her husband straight in the eye. He looks up at her, meets her gaze and smiles. ‘Can you make an excuse? Let’s just go. Can’t we?’ He frowns. This is not part of his plan, she can see that. For a moment, she is intensely annoyed with him, almost to the point of hatred.
But then she thinks, Of course: everyone is like this. Nobody really wants to be spontaneous.And she doesn’t really want to go to Bintan anyway; it’s a stupid island, covered in golf courses.
‘Can…’ he says, half-heartedly, but she knows he is saying it to please her. It would be better if he just refused. She walks to the window and looks out. She hears the rustle of paper behind her. She turns and looks at him, then, with a purpose, walks back to the chair and kneels down.
‘Keep reading your paper,’ she says as she unzips his trousers and slides her slim fingers with their fuschia-polished nails inside. ‘Keep reading, honey.’
2. Lim
‘The amazing thing is, when you perfect this…I can’t call it a technique, lah. It’s more like a kind of… attitude. The thing is, what I’m getting at, they come to you. You don’t even have to try. I mean this girl… married. And beautiful. Seriously.
‘I mean, she was just there for eye candy, right? That’s why we employ these MBA babes, to flick their rebonded hair and flutter the lashes. Clicky clicky on the mouse, oh-so-deh-lick-cate-ly. I could see these Jakarta guys getting all hot under the collar when she went through her Powerpoint slides.
I want her to say, “Oops, I dropped my pencil, lah” and just, you know, bend over in that tight skirt, but she doesn’t have to. The professionality of this girl is much more of a turn-on, and when she walked up and fingered that laser pointer, I knew we had them. I was hard already from the fucking, excuse my French, from the deal. I just had to reel them in like fish. Too easy.
‘So, anyway, the point is, I had no designs, absolutely none on this girl.
I mean, she’s married, I even played golf with her hubby once. I was quite shagged out anyway, you know what I mean, I went straight from Geylang to the airport and into the damn meeting and there I was, wired on coffee and just kind of winging it. We were in the hotel bar afterwards, and I was just thinking about my big, fat bonus, and it turns out she was thinking about my big fat boner… Sorry, lah, sorry. I know, I know, don’t cover your ears, it’s okay, I just get carried away telling the story. So damned sweet.
‘Anyway, there we are, in the hotel bar, at the bar, drinking Chivas and green tea to celebrate. I’ve got one eye on her, one on the television, which is showing the news, nothing interesting, no football, just some kind of riot being put down in the Philippines. And she says “So how is Mrs Lim?” and I’m like “She’s a wonderful woman, I would do anything for her, she’s a saint” because I’m in such a good mood. And is she pouting just a little at this? I don’t know, they always look like they’re pouting a little bit anyway, and anyway I don’t notice, and she says “Your wife really understands you, then?”. And I say “Well I suppose she does, as much as anyone understands anyone else” because I’m kind of a philosopher sometimes, you know me.
‘Anyway, then she says something like “I have a wonderful marriage, my husband is taking me to Bintan next weekend” and I say that’s nice, and I drink some more Chivas, and she gives me a really long, kind of weird look, like I’ve said something really irritating, and after while, she says “How about Champagne?”. And I say “I think that is a very wonderful idea, and the company would be delighted to pay for us to drink Champagne given how we have nailed the Jakartans and all”, and so she orders a bottle and we polish it off in about twenty minutes, and by this point I suddenly start to think perhaps she might be MBA in more ways than one…
‘What? You never heard that one? Married But Available… ha ha… anyway, at this point I am definitely starting to suspect that something may be on the cards, so I’m thinking, well I will just try something subtle, so I say “Have you checked the movies on the hotel TV?” and she says “Let’s go check them now” and she orders another bottle of Champagne and off we are going upstairs, leaning on each other and the walls but we get to her room, and…
‘No, lah. No, I know you don’t want to know the saucy details, man, but seriously, her ass is the cutest thing I ever saw. Oh my god. Sorry, lah. Sorry.
You’re such a good guy. I think it’s just my hormonal make-up or something.
I am overactive in that department ever since I was—hey, beer, over here!—well, you know me.
‘Well, if you insist. Yes, we did. Yes, she was. I mean, seriously, I never… the things she can do with those hands, even though I was a bit drunk and all. And I hardly had to move a muscle, just lay back and let it all happen. There was a movie on the TV too. It was a funny one, you know, that American one, with the students. Pie something.’
3. Marlene
She cannot decide whether he is an Epic or a Romantic. Clearly, according to the theory, he must be one or the other. So, she must work it out: which one is he?
It was not clear at first even that he was one of those two. It has taken her some time to narrow it down. But now he is inside her, pushing into her over and again, and she is lying there on her belly, her face muffled in the pillow while he shunts behind her and she tries to work it out.
Consider the evidence, she thinks. For the Epic hypothesis: he cheats.
Clearly. Repeatedly. This is obvious. And he doesn’t feel guilty. The Romantics still do it, but they have this tragic look on their faces, like they hate themselves. He doesn’t have that.
On the other hand, he clearly knows what he wants. There is a routine to this for him, she can see it. There is not enough adventure in this for him for it to be an Epic encounter.
So, it’s an enigma. Unless, that is, there might be a new category. What would she call it? She frowns.
He finishes with a grunt and rolls over. She waits the usual length of time before showering, puts her clothes back on, checks herself in the mirror, and kisses him on the cheek.
‘Thanks,’ he says.
‘Welcome,’ she says, and heads out to the street, getting into a taxi.
When the driver drops her off at the shopping centre, she picks her way up a halted escalator to the second floor, and shows her ID at the entrance to Club Island.
Inside, the band has started. A group of Western guys is being served beer. She stands nearby. One of them is very drunk, wearing a fright wig, a dog collar and a pair of frilly pink panties over the top of his jeans. ‘My fiance,’ he is saying, ‘is the best… the best… you know. Lovely, lovely, lovely. Lovely Keiko. I bloody love her.’
Marlene walks into his line of sight and gives him the look. He glances at her and smiles. Mine,she thinks.
As she is walking over to the group, it comes to her. That Chinese businessman does need a new category, she thinks, and now she knows what it is.
4. Keiko