Justin Holmes’s wife tucked him into bed and kissed him on the top of the head. She zipped her bag, gathered their daughter and hauled her out the door. An average day, the school run followed by work. On the bedside table, she’d left a tray holding a glass of orange juice, a plate of buttered brown toast and a pot of tea. In the fridge she’d left a plate of chicken sandwiches, in case he felt up to eating something more later.
Justin settled back under the covers and allowed his head to sink deep into his pillow. Relaxed. He hadn’t pulled a sickie on his wife in a while. And she’d bought it, smothering him with kisses and back rubs and goodwill. He deserved a day in, she’d told him. He worked so hard, after all.
Justin’s hands felt clammy with the hot anticipation of what might unfold in the hours to come. For a while he lay there, savouring the possibilities. Then he leaned over and opened the drawer in the bedside table. From the coin jar, Justin fished out the slip of paper. On it was scrawled a mobile number. Justin licked his lips, picked up his mobile and dialled.
‘Wei?’ A curt greeting, as though Justin had interrupted something important.
He hesitated. ‘Uh, I think I have the wrong number.’ He took the phone from his ear, and moved his finger to the end-call button.
‘You want DVD?’
Justin caught the words just as he pressed disconnect. He dialled again.
‘Yes?’ the voice said in English.
Justin swallowed. ‘You sell DVDs?’
‘We sell DVDs and private appointments. What do you want?’
Justin massaged his wedding ring. A private appointment sounded interesting. But he supposed it would involve sex. That would mean cheating on his wife.
‘DVD,’ he said.
‘Yeah, yeah, DVD. What kind?’
He thought hard. How to put it? ‘Something… unconventional.’
Peals of laughter carried down the phone line. Justin forced himself to release his grip on the handset. He watched as the blood flowed again under the skin of his knuckles. He took some deep breaths, willing calm to return.
‘Unconventional?’ the voice said finally, between squeaks of laughter. ‘We only do unconventional. What do you want? Naughty or nice?’
This time he didn’t hesitate. ‘I want the naughtiest you’ve got.’
‘Depends how far you want to go.’
Justin felt an erection stir against the flannelette of his pyjama pants. He glanced at the snatch of sky visible through the chink in the curtains. The storm clouds had gathered grey and black. If he was going to go through with this, he may as well go hard.
‘I want to go all the way,’ he said, surprised at the nervous tremor that crept into his voice.
At the end of the phone line, more laughter rang out.
When Justin finished on the phone, he slipped into a dressing gown and some slippers. He took the tray of toast and juice into the kitchen, binned the toast and took a bottle of vodka from the freezer. He added a generous splash to the orange juice. Rain shot darts against the windowpane. Justin sipped his drink. From the kitchen he could see the driveway and the road. He would wait here for the delivery. For a split second, he wondered whether handing over his home address had been a good idea. His wife and child lived here. What if a delivery arrived when he wasn’t at home? But the anxiety slipped away as the vodka penetrated his bloodstream and left him basking in its warm glow. He watched the rain beat down outside and decided it was a good day for curling up in front of the telly.