ON THE HUNT FOR A MISTRESS
Beatrice, what are you doing? Richard stares at his wife as she hands him a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
Nothing. But if you keep lazing about, all the best mistresses will be snapped up! Beatrice whisks away the duvet, leaving Richard shivering with goosebumps as the morning chill bites.
What are you on about?
After what you said yesterdaythat its only a matter of time before you get yourself a mistressIve made up my mind. The hour is upon us, Richard. Its half past five: time to get up and head off to the front lines of debauchery.
Oh, I wasnt serious! Wed had a row, remember? Sorry, I was out of line.
No, no, you were spot on. Its me whos at fault. Ive let the spark in our marriage go out. All the fuel spent on myself, and now theres nothing but ashes not enough left to roast a potato. Well, Im fixing it. Up you get.
Are you chucking me out?
Im driving you on! Youre starting daily workouts until you shake off that spare tyre. A mistress isnt like a wifeshe wont put up with a Michelin mascot lounging around. Get up, before I lose my patience!
Seeing shed not let up, Richard begrudgingly slides off the bed, and, as a form of penance, drags the shorts up over his boxers with some difficulty.
Remind me to buy some proper trunks for you. In these parachute-pants, Im worried youll get blown right off the lovers bed.
After ten minutes of running around the house under his coachs withering gaze, Richard, half dead, staggers inside, collapses, and begins crawling towards the bed.
And just where do you think youre going? Beatrice blocks his path.
I just want to die peacefully in my sleep.
No dying allowedwere looking for a mistress, not a coroner. Get in the shower. Twice a day from now on. If you didnt care about stinking around me, at least be merciful to some other poor soul. And youll brush your teeth morning and evening! And dont forget to wash your hair wellwere off to the photo studio today.
What for?
To get a proper photo for the dating site. I cant take one properlyknowing you too well, all Id see through the lens is an old stevedore, king of lager, and a man who loves his fried pasta in butter. We need to capture your inner alpha male for the world to see.
Beatrice, havent you had enough now?
Stop wasting your breath. Save it for some lovely girls ear. Right, lets pick a candidate.
Richard perked up at this parthe secretly rather enjoyed flicking through dating profiles as a bit of harmless fantasy, and here was his first ever official, consequence-free chance. He started pointing.
What about her?
You must be joking.
Whats wrong with her?
RichardI want to feel ashamed for myself when I see your mistress, not for you. Just look, even your old Corsa looked better than this before we sold it. She needs a warning label: Structural instability, enter at own risk.
Well, then how about her?
That? Richard, how am I meant to face our friends if my husband cheats with just anyone desperate? Look herea proper candidate!
Youve lost your mind. She would never look twice at me
Heavens above! What did I ever see in you, you spineless Pinocchio? Why did I let us last fifteen years?
My sense of humour? Richard ventured.
Lets be honestif laughter actually added years to your life, Id have been a widow before our honeymoon was over. Lets not tempt fate. Rightlets get you a decent suit and tempt one in person instead.
Enough, Bea, lets just make up.
Make up? Wheres the spat youre talking about? A mistress is a status symbol for a successful Englishman. And having a successful man as a husband? Also a status. Perhaps we shouldnt limit ourselves to just one.
At the shopping centre, Beatrice steers her husband into the most expensive section, stripping the mannequins bare as they pass.
Bea, these trousers and jacket cost the same as a full set of winter tyres, Richard protests as she shoves him into the changing room.
Dont worry, well get you protection at the chemistwinter, summer, whatever you fancy, but always double-layered. Im not inviting other peoples bouquets into my house.
Beatrice!
What? Safety first. Were not picking out a scooter, but a hypotenuse for our obtuse triangle. Oh, by the way, have you rung your boss?
About what? Richard says, struggling into the blazer.
Finances, obviously. Youll need a promotion at this rate. How do you plan to provide for two women on your salary? Ill manage on cabbage soup at home, but that wont cut it with a mistress. Theres a formula: one dinner, three glasses of wine, five-star hotelcut corners anywhere, and the whole foundation collapses.
Richard finally straightens his tie.
Handsome, just like our wedding day, Beatrice dabs at her eyes.
It really suits you, adds the woman in the next cubicle.
Care to take him? Hes in the market for a mistress, Beatrice quips.
No, thanks, Ive already got a loverthree, actually, the woman beams shamelessly.
Richard, definitely steer clear of that onewe need someone reliable and steady, like a current account in another bank where you can transfer funds with total confidence. Now, off to the perfumery; once youre sprayed, its off into the wild.
They wander around the centre for another hour before Beatrice nods approvingly.
There, Richard, youre ready. Even without the photo. Go onremember everything Ive drilled into you: be persistent, suave, and confident, like when you sold our old Corsa.
Beatrice heads home to make cabbage soup, while Richard embarks on his hard-earned quest for a mistress.
An hour later, the buzzer rings in Beatrices flat.
Good afternoon, darling. Is your husband home? The voice is rich, velvet, and thrillingly unfamiliarso seductive even the crackly speaker cant blunt it.
Oh! Beatrice gasps, the ladle slipping from her hand as a wave of feeling floods her. Um, no, hes gone to his mistress.
Would you let me in? I have a proposition for you.
The intensity of his voice sends a shiver down her spine; she nearly goes for the Lemsip before deciding against it. She stabs the entry button three times. Richard appears at the flat door after three minutes holding a lush bouquet of crimson carnations. Guiding Beatrice gently by the waist into the cramped hallway, a sudden heat blossoms in the air.
Have you been crying? Richard asks, catching her red-eyed.
A bit. Thought Id made a hash of thingsbut turns out, these ashes were needed for a new fire.
Well, I suppose you wouldnt mind spending the evening with a charming, interesting conversationalist? Theres wild desireand probably fifty millilitres of brandygleaming in Richards eyes. Let me take you to dinnerIll tell you the most wonderful tale of your beauty. Strictly non-fiction, but youll love it.
Y-y-yes please, Beatrice stammers, fully in character. Let me just take the soup off and find some mascara.
Ill call a cab in the meantime, Richard says.
So, where are we off to? Beatrice is grinning like a Cheshire cat.
The fanciest five-star restaurant in town!
Youre dreaming, love; the closest thing here is Five Cheeses Pizza.
Then thats just perfect. For my mistress, only the very best.
And wont your wife get jealous?
Well have to try our best to make sure she does, Richard winks, conspiratorial.
