Chapter Ten
CHAPTER TEN
I spend way too long trying to get my Unmatched profile picture right. At first, I was just going to paste in some provocative image of an anonymous woman I found online, but nothing I tried seemed to fit. One girl’s hair wasn’t the right color, I didn’t like another one’s smile, there was something strange about the last one’s boobs. It takes me a while to admit that I’m actually jealous of all of them. These random, anonymous women I’m trying to use to seduce my husband.
I want Anton to desire me . My image.
As messed up as that sounds.
After studying some other ladies’ profiles, I realize I can pull it off if I’m careful. Many of the pics those women use make their features hard to decipher. Maybe out of shame or fear of discovery, or maybe they just aren’t that pretty. It would serve the asshole men right.
I end up using a selfie I took in Caprice’s bathroom, posed to maximize cleavage and bare skin, with my face turned away, obscured behind the cascade of my hair. The shape of my jaw can be made out, a hint of my overall profile—enough to tell I’m probably nice looking—but not the details. I mess with filters until it doesn’t resemble me anymore. My hair a different shade of blonde, my skin more tan. But it is still me .
And now it’s perfect. Time to put my plan into action.
LonelyGirl8
Hey, sexy. Looking for some fun?
At first, I hold my breath, not sure he’ll even answer. Yes, he created the profile, but maybe he was only curious. Maybe he stopped there. If he just put it together, he might not have even had a chance to use it. Or...he might have already found someone to hook up with. He might’ve found several someones. Twenty minutes pass, and I’m swinging between relief and dread when a subtle alert sounds and a surge of adrenaline rushes through me.
MountainMan3
Yes. Are you?
A wave of nausea hits me. I clutch my hand to my chest too late. It’s already torn open. A sound escapes my lips, somewhere between a gasp and a cry. Caprice looks up from her laptop, alarmed.
“Lyd? What’s wrong?”
I open my mouth, trying to say words, but clamp it shut and just look at her, a tear rolling down my cheek.
She comes to peer over my shoulder, her eyes widening when she sees the screen. “MountainMan3? God, you’re messaging Anton ?”
“Who else?” I croak.
“I thought you said you were going to cheat!”
“I am!” I cover my face with my hands and whimper. “With him.”
Caprice gives me a long, hard look, then her eyes soften with a measure of sadness, or maybe pity, I’ve never seen directed at me. I look away, dropping the phone into my lap, but she snatches it up and starts swiping the screen.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my nose already clogged.
She doesn’t answer right away, grabbing her notepad and jotting down a few things. Finally, she looks up, wearing her determined journalist face—though still with a hefty amount of sympathy. “When you said you wanted to get your hands dirty in the dark corners of your marriage, I didn’t realize this is what you had in mind. ”
I shrug, too heartbroken to admit I actually thought he might not answer.
“As far as I’m concerned, you have two choices,” Caprice continues. “You can delete this whole thing now, forget about it, go home and call a lawyer.” She worries her lip. “Or...you can see it through.”
I raise my gaze to meet hers.
“I don’t need an exposé,” she says gently, holding up the phone so I can see Anton’s profile pic. “But if you can lure him in, I’d love to help you nail his balls to the wall.”
I stare at my husband’s smile, my brain again filling in the missing parts of the image—my arm linked with his, like a ghost outside the frame. A happy couple who ceased to exist the moment he cropped me out. I look at Caprice and swallow. “Let’s do it.”
She nods with a grim smile, taps out a message on my screen, then hands it back so I can send it myself.
LonelyGirl8
Of course! What are you into?
I grit my teeth, hit the button, and let out a long exhale. I’d be okay waiting a good hundred years before I have to see what he says, but he responds almost immediately.
MountainMan3
Your tits, mostly.
My jaw nearly hits the ground. I’m curled in the corner of Caprice’s couch, but I have to set down the phone and walk to the window. Anton would never speak to a woman that way. Let alone use the word tits . He’s too caring, too sensitive. Too feminist.
I glance at Caprice, whose lip is curled in resigned distaste.
“Maybe it isn’t even him,” I say hoarsely. “It could be some dude who stumbled on our picture online, even some jerk friend or coworker.” My brain seizes on this. That has to be what’s happening. Some repulsive guy out there found my husband’s picture and is using it to attract women. My Anton’s probably at the gym. Or at home, having dinner alone. Waiting for me to join him .
I glance at the clock. It’s after eight. But then my phone pings again.
MountainMan3
I’d like to slide my dick between those tits and come all over them. My wife won’t ever let me do that.
And just like that, the walls close in.
All the air escapes the room.
Because I’m sure it’s him.
I’ve never understood this particular fascination. I mean, guys like boobs, I get it. But what’s exciting about covering them in a sticky mess? Honestly, I thought he’d slipped the first time he did it. The second time, he shot me in the eye and my vision was blurry for an hour. I was sure I’d get an infection. After that, he asked if I minded him coming on my chest, and I said I did. He never tried it again, and I thought that was that.
But now he’s asking some “other woman” if he can do it to her.
Like it’s somehow important to him.
My limbs suddenly feel heavy. I’m not sure I want to keep the conversation going. It was one thing to create an Unmatched profile. Pretend to be someone else. Vent a little of my anger and frustration. But now that we’re talking, now that he thinks I’m LonelyGirl8, a married woman with nothing better to do than have sex with someone else’s husband, this is starting to feel too real. I’m not sure I’m ready to see this side of Anton.
Caprice holds her hand out for the phone. “Do you want me to...”
I shake my head, biting my lip. Hard.
If he’s texting me now, he must not be with someone else. Maybe he hasn’t gone through with it yet. I need to play along if I’m going to catch him. I take a sharp breath, trying to channel my inner hussy.
LonelyGirl8
Ooh, just thinking about that turns me on.
MountainMan3
Yeah? What else do you like ?
My cheeks burn. The corners of my eyes prick with tears. I remind myself he’s talking to me . Not someone else. It’s my picture, my stats. Then I lie through my teeth.
LonelyGirl8
I love sucking dick.
MountainMan3
Tell me more.
LonelyGirl8
I want to suck your dick and let you come all over my tits.
MountainMan3
Fuck. You’re getting me hard.
I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. This whole conversation makes me want to go home, throw him out of the house, and take a long shower. But I’ve got him on the line now. I just need to reel him in. I glance at the description in his profile again: “Naughty afternoons in a hotel bed.” Okay, you dirty asshole.
LonelyGirl8
After that, I want you to throw me across the bed and spank me ‘cause I’m naughty.
There’s a lag in his reply. A long enough pause that I start to wonder if he got interrupted at the “gym” or wherever he really is tonight. Caprice disappears into the bathroom, and then my phone pings again.
MountainMan3
You like that?
LonelyGirl8
Oh yeah, it gets me hot.
There’s another lengthy pause, then he finally answers.
MountainMan3
Sorry, that doesn’t do anything for me.
I suck in a breath, my pulse pounding in my ears. His profile said naughty . Isn’t spanking what people who use the word “naughty” like to do?
I look up as Caprice exits the bathroom. “He doesn’t want to spank me!”
“Say what?”
“I—I had him. It was working. But then I brought up spanking, and he’s not into it.”
I show her the phone, scrolling up through the messages. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, and when she glances at me, I feel my face redden. “Okay, so back off. Not everyone digs that kind of thing.”
She says this like she speaks from experience, but I’m way too embarrassed at this point to ask. And I don’t want to leave Anton hanging too long.
LonelyGirl8
If you’re not into it, no big deal. What else do you like?
MountainMan3
How about butt play?
My eyes bulge. He doesn’t want to spank, but he’s into that ? I bring my hand to my cheek and stare at Caprice. She rolls her eyes, plucking the phone out of my grip, and types:
LonelyGirl8
Have to admit, I’ve never done it. But I LOVE trying new things.
MountainMan3
Excellent.
She hands the phone back to me, and I want to gag. Butt play? I don’t need to ask Caprice what that means, but at the same time, I don’t feel like I really understand it either. My face is on fire as I try to imagine exactly what my husband is suggesting he wants to do—and where he wants to do it. Certainly somewhere he’d never dare try to explore with me.
My stomach turns over. I guess maybe that’s the point.
I do some deep breathing, trying to collect myself enough to continue the conversation. When I’m finally centered, I straighten and poise my thumbs over the screen. I don’t think we’re going to wine and dine at this point. Maybe it’s time to clinch the deal.
LonelyGirl8
Sounds like we could have fun together. Maybe we should meet.
MountainMan3
Maybe . . .
LonelyGirl8
You’re in Denver too, right?
A minute passes, then two. I chew my lip, wondering if I jumped ahead too quickly.
MountainMan3
Listen . . . I think you’re hot. But I’ve never done this before.
I gasp. My hand rises to my throat, my eyes filling with tears. I knew it. I knew he couldn’t have gone through with it! We were each other’s firsts . You can’t just go try out somewhere new when you’ve never left home. Not easily, at least. But I didn’t realize until he said it how much I needed this to be true.
Unless it’s a lie? My stomach sinks all the way back down to my toes. What about this whole situation isn’t wall-to-wall lies? He’s hardly texted me all day, but he’s sitting in our home, flirting with what he thinks is another woman.
“Lydia,” Caprice says, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. I’d nearly forgotten she was there. “Look, I want to catch him and all, but are you sure this is how you want to do it?”
I close my eyes. She might be right. I’ve already opened the door to a world of hurt. Chances are, if I pursue this, that’s not going to improve. But every time I imagine him touching someone else, I just feel sick. If it’s not me Anton hooks up with, who will it be ?
I look at Caprice, nod slowly, and turn back to the screen.
LonelyGirl8
But you want to. That’s why we’re both here.
MountainMan3
I’d just like to get laid.
My eyes sting, thumbs hovering over the screen.
LonelyGirl8
Then let’s make it happen. Where should we go?
There’s a lengthy break in the conversation again. I pace back and forth between the couch and the windows, waiting to see what he says. Caprice goes to her freezer, pulls out a pint of ice cream, and brings back two spoons.
Finally, a message pings.
MountainMan3
Sorry . . . I don’t think I can do this.
My chest lightens. I breathe in for the first time in what feels like an hour. I wait for him to follow up, say something else to clarify, but nothing comes.
“Dickhead,” Caprice mutters over my shoulder.
I set the phone down and turn to face her, hands clasped in front of me. “He doesn’t want to do it!”
She grunts.
I turn in a circle, feeling floaty, almost cheerful. Certainly better than I have since lunch. “I knew he couldn’t go through with it. This is...” I search for the right word. “This is great.”
Caprice looks from me to Heartthrob, who’s raised his head like he’s following the conversation, and folds her arms. “What about this is great?”
I check my screen again, holding it up so she can see his final message. “He isn’t going to cheat. He can’t . Because he loves me.”
“He didn’t say that. ”
“He didn’t need to. If I don’t matter, what’s to stop him?”
She opens her mouth, closes it again, then drifts to her laptop at the counter, biting back whatever else was trying to fight past her lips. I set the phone down and start collecting my things. I pack up my computer and a stack of papers from The Pooch Park and finally grab Heartthrob’s leash. He stands and stretches, wagging his big arced tail.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say. “And putting up with us tonight.”
“You’re going home?” She raises her eyebrows, processing what I’m doing.
“Well, yeah.”
She slides off her stool. “Lydia, don’t take this the wrong way, but can I just point out that while you’ve been ‘working late’ tonight, he’s been home discussing butt play with another woman?”
I nearly drop my bag trying to get it over my shoulder. “He’s never touched anyone but me,” I say to the wall.
“If you believe that.”
“Look, you’ve never been married. Maybe you don’t get it,” I snap, wincing immediately at the flash of hurt in her eyes. Not so long ago, Caprice was engaged, but we try not to talk about that. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath. “I just—I need to do this, Caprice. I need to go home and see if we can still make things right.”
She huffs, but when I open my eyes again, she shakes her head and wraps me in her arms, giving me a hug I didn’t realize I desperately needed. “Fine. I support you. I think your husband’s a jackass, but you do what you need to do.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“If you change your mind, you can always stay here. My door is open,” she says, pulling back and glancing at my dog. “Even for him.”
That’s a seriously generous offer, and I want her to know I’m grateful, so I manage a small smile. I place my hand on the doorknob but can’t quite figure out what comes next until Heartthrob nudges me with his nose, and somehow I pull it open.
“Maybe you guys should at least consider counseling?” Caprice suggests as I make my way into the hall .
“Probably,” I say, moving toward the elevators. Therapy would have to be better than divorce.
But as I exit her building into a sprinkle of spring rain, each step shakier than the last, my confidence plummets. Heartthrob jumps into the backseat when we reach my car, excited to be going home. But I sit for a long time staring through the raindrops on my windshield, wondering what will happen when we get there.