ALTER EGO
Mallorca, Spain
Kate didn’t want to go to the Boomba Bar. Kate didn’t want to go anywhere; especially not to the third Salsa class that was taking place that evening. She paced up and down the length of her bedroom, ransacking the far depths of her imagination for a plausible excuse. This was no easy feat, particularly after all the nagging and cajoling it had taken to get David there in the first place. Headache perhaps? No, that wouldn’t work, she never had headaches. Something more serious than that. Period pain? Nope, that wouldn’t work either. David knew exactly when she had her period. She needed to be more innovative. Brain tumour? Yes, that was it, a brain tumour, she thought rather dramatically. Or death? Perhaps she could just drop dead, and then all her troubles would be over?
Back and forth she paced, inwardly groaning. In what seemed like a most unlikely and ironic turn of events, David actually wanted to go to Salsa and all she wanted to do was dive under the covers of her big, crisp, white linen duvet and stay there, forever. Shaking her head in despair, Kate continued to pace. How could this have happened? How could she, of all people, prim n’ proper Kate, have gotten herself into this situation? Out of nowhere, a voice—her alter ego’s voice, a presence that had materialised in the last class—suddenly invaded her thoughts, taunting her. Go to Salsa … go to Salsa … go to him. Kate inwardly screamed back. No. No. No.
The battle had been raging ever since she’d returned from the previous Tuesday’s class. She could not give into this evilness. Oh, why had she suggested they take up Salsa? Why did the rabbit have to pee on the yoga ad? Why hadn’t it peed on the Salsa ad and done a poo on the yoga one instead? Yes, it was the rabbits’ fault, and who’d bought the rabbits? David. So he’d brought this on himself. Kate continued to rationalise. This was all David’s fault; she was blameless, innocent even.
Suddenly, David popped his head around the door. “Are you getting ready?”
Kate glared at him, her eyes squinting accusingly, and said nothing.
“What?” David asked in all innocence, confusion sweeping through him—not for the first time that week. Something was strange. Something was different. Kate was acting strange and different, and he knew he needed to tread carefully. Extremely carefully.
“Problem?” David spoke in his usual gentle manner, which seemed to snap her out of her peculiar trance.
Kate shook her head as she plonked herself dramatically onto the super king-size bed that dominated their bedroom. A pained expression took over her face. “Um, not sure I can be bothered to go tonight. It looks like it’s going to rain.” She glanced nervously out of the large window at the big, dark grey cloud that hovered ominously over the orange groves beyond.
Weird , thought David, acknowledging that it did look somewhat overcast, but it rarely rained in July, and it was not like Kate to miss out on Salsa. He’d even caught her putting on a CD and practising the steps around the kitchen table a number of times; her face at first scrunched up in concentration and then delight as she perfected what they’d learnt. After the first class, he’d resigned himself that escape was impossible and total compliance a forgone conclusion. To be perfectly honest, David wasn’t really thinking about the class itself, but what had happened after the class. There appeared to be some sort of peculiar correlation between Salsa and Kate actually wanting, no, more than that, liking and participating in their love-making.
Images filled his mind of the way she’d been after the previous class. Her skin soft like satin, her smell sweet like banoffee pie. Yes, definitely worth an hour of misery if it meant he’d get a repeat performance. He had to get her up and out to Salsa so they could have the ‘après Salsa.’
“Come on, sweetheart, you love Salsa. It’s not that bad out, and I promise not to step on your toes.” David waited to see some movement from Kate, but no action ensued. “I promise I’ll dance with you tonight. You won’t have to dance with any strange men this time.” He attempted with renewed vigour.
Kate groaned as guilt coursed through her. David thought she didn’t want to go because he’d all but crippled her toes last time. She was a bad, evil woman, and she was suddenly conscious that it was imperative he must never guess the real reason she didn’t want to go. She didn’t care about the rain; she didn’t even care if David stepped on her toes. She didn’t want to go because of him. The sexy man. Robert. The man with the astonishing hazel eyes and floppy blonde hair. Robert, who she’d ascertained during a polite conversation, actually lived on a yacht. How amazing, and free, and liberating to live in that way. A red flush crept over Kate, as she thought about him.
In an attempt to tame what was now a furiously beating heart, she jumped off the bed and grinned, masking the ravaging turmoil that was raging inside. “Yes, of course, just being silly and lazy. I’ll hop in the shower now.” A cold one , Kate thought, as she turned on the taps and stepped into the shower, ready to take the punishment that she so clearly deserved; evil vixen that she was.
Even as she braved the freezing cold droplets pelting down onto her warm flesh, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. Robert. She sighed. Robert . Then sighed again. It wasn’t David’s fault nor the rabbits’. Desperate to apportion blame anywhere but on herself, she thought about the girl Robert had brought to the first class. It was her fault. If she’d come to the last class, then nothing would have happened. Silly bitch with her size zero body. It was all her fault. If she’d come, then Kate wouldn’t have been forced—well perhaps too strong of a word—to dance with Robert and the tingle would never have materialised.
The bloody stupid tingle. The ache, the little throbbing sensation that had appeared in her lower abdomen. Lust? The tingle must be lust. She barely recognised the feeling. It was only because of its surprise guest appearance the other month at the vets that she could identify it at all. Kate felt confused. If the tingle was lust, and therefore she was in fact capable of lust, then why didn’t she feel it towards David? The man she adored, worshipped, loved and cherished, the father of her children. Shit. Shit. Shit .
Kate cast her mind back to the last class …
* * *
She’d wondered at the time why Robert’s girlfriend hadn’t shown up. Was it because she’d found the strength to assert her own will and resist him? It had been obvious that she hadn’t enjoyed the first class, but even so, it surprised Kate that she hadn’t come. A more plausible explanation could be that Robert had dumped her and hadn’t yet hunted down his next unsuspecting victim. She recognised Robert was probably one of those people commonly referred to as a ‘player.’ Not that Kate had ever met a player before, and David certainly was not of this ilk, but she’d read about this strange breed of emotionally dysfunctional people whose sole purpose was to hunt down unsuspecting prey.
On Tuesday night Robert hadn’t remained partnerless, as Isabel had stepped in, with a tad more enthusiasm than was perhaps professionally appropriate. Had it not been for David and the whole toe-crushing incident, then Kate would never have partnered with Robert. The tingle would never have emerged and she could’ve quite happily continued with the classes. It just wasn’t fair.
After a short period of practising the steps they’d learnt the previous week, Isabel instructed everyone to take partners. Kate turned her face full of fear and horror and looked up at David; she knew he still hadn’t even mastered the first steps properly. David looked meekly down as if to apologise in advance for the damage he would no doubt imminently administer on her feet. Meanwhile Isabel, in her limited English, instructed the class to begin, “Now the men, one paso forward, walk left. Woman, walk back, the right foot. Basic step, por favor ,” she trilled, despite the vacuous faces of the group staring back at her.
Very slowly, Kate and David did as instructed. Kate, who’d perfected not only the step but had implemented a wiggle and gyrating of her hips, found herself unable to do either with David. With his eyes rooted to the floor and body frozen rigid, David began to sweat profusely through sheer concentration, holding onto Kate for dear life.
“Can’t you look at me?” she whispered with irritation, not being able to move in the way she wanted.
He looked up in surprise and immediately trod on her toes. “No, I bloody well can’t.”
“Why do you have to look at your feet? What's wrong with you? Look into my eyes, this is the dance of passion,” she snarled at him through gritted teeth, freeing herself from his grip just in time to prevent any further assault on her toes.
“Shut it Kate, just shut it,” he growled straight back, whilst lunging forward with the wrong leg and colliding into her with such force that she howled in pain. The other students laughed, but neither Kate nor David saw the funny side. Isabel rushed over, clearly wearing her marriage guidance hat to see if she could fix the problem.
Realising the root of the problem was that David hadn’t yet mastered the basic steps. Isabel motioned for Robert to come and practise with Kate, whilst sweeping David to the back of the class to go over the first lesson.
Kate stood awkwardly in front of Robert, although he seemed delighted to be standing in front of her. “You saved me,” he whispered into her ear; his voice like milk chocolate dripping down her throat, immediately sending a shiver down her spine. Stop it, Kate. Stop it. What a ridiculous reaction. He’s just a man.
But a gorgeous, sexy, stunning man , said another voice quietly from deep within.
“Saved you from what?” she said as casually as possible, whilst trying to ignore her internal utterances.
“Isabel. Very scary to be dancing with the teacher. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes.” Monosyllables were suddenly all Kate could manage, aware of the awkwardness that shrouded the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever danced with a man who wasn’t David. There had been no other men. She was in extremely unchartered territory.
“I’m Kate,” she finally uttered as she held out her hand formally to shake his. Robert looked down at it with surprise, then slowly picked it up, bringing his lips gently to rest on it. Kate wriggled with embarrassment. Now she felt even more uncomfortable, if that were possible. “Do you live here in Palma?” It was the first thing that popped into her mind as she extricated her hand from his lips, desperate to normalise the incredibly abnormal moment.
“Sort of. I live on a yacht and travel around Europe.” His gaze held hers, and it was incredibly unnerving.
“Shall we dance?” she eventually managed to squawk, conscious of the fact that the rest of the class were dancing whilst they were standing still like a couple of awkward teenagers. Besides, dancing had to be easier than talking. If they could dance, then she wouldn’t have to speak, and speech was especially hard when your heart was bouncing around inside your body and small vibrations were coursing through your veins.
Glancing at David, Kate was relieved to see that he was oblivious to what she was doing. Interesting . If it had been the other way round and David was dancing with a gorgeous specimen, she definitely would’ve kept an eye on him. However, as David’s head bobbed up and down with no correlation to the beat of the music, Kate noted that he was too engrossed with his private lesson to be aware of her, and slowly she relaxed into Robert’s arms.
It’s strange how there are some defining moments in life, how you know when you hit one. How you feel it in the core of your being. This was one for Kate. Robert reached out as if in slow motion, taking her hand in his and squeezing it, or perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps she only imagined the squeeze, but it felt like an electric current charging through her body. Even slower, he circled her waist with his other arm, resting his palm on her hip and it felt like he brushed her back in the process. She was conscious of the music, conscious of the room getting darker, and conscious that he seemed to pull her closer towards him so that her hips brushed against his groin. Was it possible that her imagination was running away with her? She was so caught up in the moment that it really did feel like they were being held together by some invisible force.
His movements were so subtle that she felt genuine confusion about whether they were deliberate or a figment of her overactive imagination. The sensation was so alien to her that she swallowed deeply, and resting her left hand below his shoulder, looked up into his eyes. For a moment, neither of them talked. It must have only been seconds, but to Kate in that moment, right there in the middle of the dance floor, with her husband just a stone’s throw away, she felt something shift within her. So great was this shift that it terrified her. The way he looked and the way his smell entered and consumed her was overwhelming.
And then Robert spoke, as if it were the most natural thing to do in the middle of a tornado. For it was a tornado that Kate felt she was in. Everything inside her body had turned upside down, whizzing around faster and faster, higher and higher.
“Shall we dance?” Robert repeated Kate’s earlier question, his hazel eyes, with flecks of gold and a stunning blue rim the likes of which she’d never seen, boring down into hers, deeper and deeper into her mind, into her soul. It no longer mattered that David was there. It didn’t matter that anyone was there. There were only the two of them in the room, with the music washing over them, surrounding them, stroking them as if they were entwined in a piece of silk. He moved forward as she moved back. He pulled her in closer and their hips grazed once again. Kate felt as if she were on fire. Was he feeling the same? Could a reaction to a person as intense as this, make you forget everything? A reaction that could suspend time and space, possibly just be one-way? Kate was too inexperienced to know, too na?ve to understand, and by that point, too consumed by the moment to even care.
Attempting to regain some control, Kate looked at her feet, anything but gaze into his eyes. She could not, would not, continue to stare into those deep hypnotising pools that reminded her of liquid gold. A man like Robert wouldn’t be attracted to a woman like her. Robert was attracted to gorgeous slim model lookalikes, not small plumpish housewives. The more she thought about it, the more she relaxed. It was all in her head. But then the music began again, the imaginary silk binding them, pulling them closer and closer together as their bodies moved as one, ‘Uno, dos, tres … cinco, seis, siete.’ He didn’t take his eyes off her, not even for a second. She wasn’t sure if he was even blinking; so intense was his gaze. Then, as if by magic, she didn’t feel scared or threatened anymore and smiled and gazed right back at him with equal intensity. The smile was not one of innocence, and nor was it one that Kate Buchanan had ever made before; this was a different smile, as if she’d morphed into someone else in that moment.
Kate suddenly felt confident. She felt beautiful. She felt sexy. That’s what being in Robert’s arms made her feel. All the things that she wanted to be and none of the things she felt she was. The way Robert looked at her made her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt before. No longer just a wife or mother or daughter or friend; she was Kate. Glorious, beautiful, sexy Kate in all her grandeur, in all her magnificence and the euphoria swept through her body and she smiled; the smile of a seductress.
The music stopped abruptly, and Robert released his hold on her. The spell was broken. Then came the embarrassment, cascading through her body like a tsunami. Gazing up at Robert, he looked almost smug. Oh my god , had he known that she’d responded to him? She quickly stepped back from him, just in time to see a smiling David approaching. “I’ve got it, darling. I think I’ve mastered it.” Oblivious to Kate’s emotional turmoil.
Robert backed away, muttering, “Thanks, you dance really well.”
Kate morphed back from ‘The Seductress’ into the dutiful wife and almost threw herself at her unsuspecting husband. “Have you? Really? That’s great, fantastic.” She was gushing, and she knew it, so toned it down a little. “Really great, sweetheart, pleased for you.” He mustn’t suspect anything . Oh god, if he were to suspect anything she would die. Nothing happened, she told herself, yet a voice from within that she presumed belonged to her now alter ego, The Seductress, mockingly taunted her. Yes, it did .
Nothing happened , she argued back to herself. The voices raged, and all the time she clung to David, desperate to leave the hall and never return; she never wanted to feel that way again.
On their way home, Kate had been uncharacteristically quiet. David had seemed more jovial than usual. Obviously the private lesson with Isabel had paid off and he was feeling more confident. “Sorry I trod on your feet,” David said apologetically.
“You can tread on my feet anytime you like.” She smiled innocently up at him. Looking at his profile as he drove the car home with that silly little grin on his face. She’d been ridiculous. Nothing untoward had occurred; oh dear, she really was very dramatic sometimes. She reached for David’s hand as they drove back in silence and their fingers locked and Kate’s equilibrium was once again restored.
Except that night, when they lay in bed, and when she closed her eyes. She reached out for David, but it wasn't David she felt stroking her back.
* * *
Kate felt numb. No longer feeling the ice water, she turned off the tap and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Heading into her dressing room on autopilot, she got dressed. In the absence of a brain tumour and with no apparent death on the cards, it looked like she was going to Salsa that night. Dressed with twenty minutes to spare, she decided to email Jamie. It had been on her mind for days, but with much of the last week spent obsessing about Robert, there hadn’t been room left in her head for much else. As she opened up the laptop, she paused for a moment, contemplating the wisdom in sharing her confusion down on paper. Potentially stupid. But then heading up the subject in a very 007 manner, ‘Delete after reading’ she quickly bashed out her dilemma.
“Kate, Juanita is here. Come on let’s go,” David yelled, just as she’d finished purging.
Great , Kate thought. Their neighbour, Juanita, must be the only Spanish person who was actually punctual. Once Kate had sent the email, she deleted the original herself. Kate grabbed her coat and lunged out the door. Vodka, yes, that would help the embarrassment. If they left now and didn’t get lost, then she could have a quick vodka before the class. It would no doubt create carnage on the footwork, but it would take the edge off seeing Robert again.