Disclaimer: Well in my mind one of them looks like Xena, one of them looks like Gabs (Season 6 hair) so MCA count yourself disclaimed. As for the third one in this story, she’s kinda faceless in my head so pick who you want her to be and disclaim them yourself! Everything else in this is mine so hands off!!!

First comment: I’m playing here, it might not work and maybe this should be over in real fiction that no-one reads, accept I always visualise X&G now when I’m writing so here it is. Like ABBA said, take a chance on me…..

Dedication: To the guy that sold me my new computer, thank you thank you thank you!

Feedback, assortment of chocolates, sympathy cards you know where to send them. Enjoy!

 

I said, you said, she said

By Mbard

 

I said

Do you come here often?

Okay I know it’s a cheesy line, but sometimes they work. And I’m easy on the eye; have everything in proportion. So for me even the most tired clichés turn into Shakespearean prose if I smile just right.

You said

No, this is my first time. I’m new to this.

You smiled shyly, somehow the gesture didn’t suit your tall frame and I knew that it was a lie. Still you didn’t turn away from me and instead moved over a little by the bar. Your bottle of beer keeping mine company so when we both reached for them at the same time, our hands would touch.

She said

Working late again? I hardly see you anymore.

The mobile phone you had perched in the crook of your neck echoed her voice and as I moved down to your naked shoulder blade, setting the skin on fire with my tongue a fleeting thought of pity crashed through me.

I said

This isn’t fair on her. We should stop.

Moving away from your embrace, I swung my legs to the floor and reached to put a shirt around me to ward off the cold in my room. I’d been trying to start this conversation for months but your blue eyes with that glint of mischief in them had always led me to my bed, and there underneath your powerful touch, the muscles rippling underneath skin as smooth and tanned as an Amazon, the mouth that could do more than lie and betray when it was sucking on my dripping cunt, the strong square hands that went to forbidden places in search of a grail I never knew was inside me, I’d forget all about what’s fair and what’s right. That’s how you got away with it for so long.

You said

Its not like I said forever. Something just died between us. She knows it too.

You sip the steaming coffee slowly; eyeing me over the brim of the cup with that shy smile I saw on you the first night. Like then I don’t believe you, but have no way to counterpoint your monologue as you go into the ways she has changed since you moved in with her. I have never been in such a situation, you expected sympathy from me but all I had left was indifference. No references to nod and agree to, and even if I had I don’t think I would be behaving as you are. Maybe it’s the black hair and the blue eyes that does it for you. Somehow though you always get what you want in this life, her and me were no different.

She said

So you two know each other through work?

One of those one chance in a million type things and I’ve bumped into you and her at an art exhibit. It’s not my usual hangout but a friend is trying to educate me, so whilst she is off chatting up the security guard I’ve been left to wander. It was too late to hide my recognition by the sculpture of corrugated iron, and you lied too quickly for me to say the truth. She is prettier than I thought she would be. Nice blonde hair, probably a bottle job but still her skin is pale so I think there is an element of truth to her. Like there isn’t to the two of us. Jade eyes that unlike your blue ones look real, no contacts or falsehoods there. And what a difference in height, the two of you. You don’t seem to fit together, yet I can tell when you glance at her nervously as she asks the awkward question, this is someone you don’t want to hurt and the protective arm around her shoulders as you lead her away makes me realise that there is love involved in this thing between the three of us.

I said

What was she like when you met her?

I’m calling you at work, it’s the only number I have of yours as I lost my mobile phone, and along with it my entire life it feels, in a club last week. You don’t understand the question nor why I should be bothering you at work with it and I receive an exasperated speech about how busy you are and why should it matter anyway? Why indeed? I ponder the thought as I hear your voice drop to a husky moan when you tell me what you are going to do to me that night when you come around for your weekly fuck. I um and ah in the right places, but I’m not visualising your hands caressing me and soon grow bored with the phone call. I would have asked you about her sooner, face to face so I could see if a flicker of guilt could pass through the crystalline eyes that I’ve only just realised are as cold as the ice that is in them. Having a face to put to a voice that was once a nobody has confused the issue with me. I feel that small ebb of pity grow inside each time I see you smile in my presence; each time you bring me screaming to climax I hate you for treating her this way, and for involving my feelings into it when you had no right to ask anything of me.

You said

Of course I’ll tell her. I just need to pick the right time. Let her settle into this new job.

And now we argue whereas before what left our lips were tongues and vulgar words, meshed together, satiating the two of us. You’ve been coming around less and less and I take knowing walks where you live to see if I can see your car parked in the driveway. My embraces have grown cold towards you, mechanical now more than anything when I let you into my flat. I don’t believe you when you say you’ll do it tonight, and you live in your arrogance when you brush off the comment that I’ll say it for the both of us. How little we know of each other, and how much I want to learn of your life. Is she that hard to fall out of love with? From what you’ve shown me, its you who are scared to be alone.

She said

How could you? I trusted you. I love you. How could you?

So much of it is an accusation aimed at me not you, when she finally realises why I came to see you at work, little knowing you already had a lunch date. I’m awash with guilt. Drowning in it, gasping for air as the hand that careens through the space between the three of us hits me and not you. You lie very well, but then I already knew that. All this is my fault, I picked you up remember? It’s a charge I am ashamed I cannot deny. Whatever I say will make no difference as she paces around your office holding her temper back in reverence to where the three of us are placed, and how damaging this play we are stuck in could become. She is protecting you and you utter those words that seal my fate and hers together.

You said

It was a mistake. Its over. Forgive me.

You cradle the sobbing petite blonde woman in your arms, the protective comforting embrace something I didn’t think you were capable of. It should have been like this from the very beginning. And I want to leave you alone to try and fix the mess you created. For now neither of you believe that none of this was my fault, you need time for that realisation to sink in. I can walk out of here with my head held high, and clear of conscience as I know this will be how it always is for you and her. You’ll do this again. I know it as sure as you are planning in your head how to hide your tracks better next time. I see it in your eyes when I take a last glance back in the direction of the two of you and the cold, heartless blue depths are still plain to see. I pity her even more for loving someone like you. But I’ve done all that I can here. And I have to find a way to get over these feelings inside for a woman I never really knew.

 

 

I said

Would you like to get a drink sometime?

I saw her the other day in the fresh produce aisle at the supermarket. Another one of those chance meetings in a city of four million people when you bump into the one person you never thought you would. She had some eggs in her basket and I saw her contemplating seeing whether bright yellow yolk would go with the jacket I was wearing. I was awkward around her. Not like when I met you, not the assured cocky woman I was then, so confident that I could charm you with a simple smile. I had to remind myself to breathe when a small, ironic little smile formed on luscious red lips that you’d kissed and lied to at the same time. She told me you’d lasted another year, and in that time she felt she only knew about half the indiscretions you’d made. Her heart poured out to me as I shifted from foot to foot wondering if the people passing us by in the aisle would think it was me that had made her cry. And I knew that I would never make this beautiful creature cry the way you had. She would never feel the pain of betrayal with me. I’d known it from the start, before I even met her. When she was just an extension of your life. When I thought she was just an object in my way. I realise now that it was you who was in the way. Of her and of me. If I’d met her first instead of you, would it be you standing in the supermarket crying on a strangers shoulder now? Would it be your heart that needs repairing like I intend to do for her? No, because she would never have done what you did. And nor will I.

She said it wouldn’t be a good idea, the two of us. I said she would never find out if we didn’t try. She said I ruined things for her and you. I said that I freed her from you. She said she hated me. I said I hated myself sometimes. She said that she could never forgive what I did. I said it was you that had asked for forgiveness, not me. She said that I reminded her of you. I said she reminded me of you too. She said that it wouldn’t be easy between the two of us. I said nothing worthwhile ever is. She said that her feelings for me grew over time. I said I know how she feels. She said that in the end she doesn’t even think of you now. I said neither do I.

The end