Confessions of a Kinky Wife

‘He doesn’t beat you?’

Christ, she was tenacious.

‘Nothing happens that nobody wants,’ I said obliquely.

‘The snivelling little git,’ she said, suddenly alight with a different variety of indignation. ‘He makes you dress up for him, doesn’t he?’

‘Oh, well … now and again.’

‘Don’t tell me. PVC, leather, thigh-high boots. I’ve heard that men in positions of unwarranted power like to pretend to relinquish it to women they pay. Or women who can’t say no to them. Like their wives.’

‘Well, that’s … not quite it …’

‘Oh, I don’t want to hear the details, Pip. God. He makes you whip him, does he? Kisses your feet and all that?’

I had no idea what to say now. I was at sea and adrift. Kez had made her supposition and it was less dangerous to me than the other one, so I suppose I just … let her go with it.

‘It’s OK, Kez, we’re both one hundred per cent cool with what we do. We’re happy. We’re well matched.’

She stared at me.

‘You like hurting him?’

‘I like what he likes.’

‘Christ, you’re so co-dependent. I despair of you. But look. I wanted to say, come back in.’

‘I’m not going anywhere my husband isn’t welcome.’

‘It’s OK.’

Dan’s voice. He was behind Kez on the pavement, in company with Ginnie and Piers.

‘Dan.’

‘Come on, we can’t go anywhere now,’ he reasoned. ‘I’ve had a drink and so have you. Let’s just go to bed and everything will be better in the morning.’

‘But don’t you mind?’

‘As long as we’re welcome …’ He looked at Kez and Ginnie, who both offered a shamefaced nod.

‘All right then. But I’m serious.’ I wagged a not-very-steady finger at my old friends. ‘Love me, love my cop.’

Somehow we all made it back into the house without falling over, until I fell into bed. A futon, to be precise, on the first-floor landing, but anything would do at that point.

Ginnie and Piers cooked brunch the next day (I can’t really say morning) and we all sat around the table speaking to each other with exaggerated courtesy, except when the other three stopped to exchange meaningful looks, or Kez muttered stuff under her breath about sexual servitude and marriage being slavery.

It was quite horrible and I was glad to get away.

‘What was all that about?’ Dan wondered aloud, once we were safely back on the motorway.

‘What? Kez and Gin being idiots?’

‘All those weird comments. Have you told them something? You haven’t, have you? No wonder they hate my bloody guts. Jesus, Pip.’

‘I didn’t! I didn’t tell them … what you think.’

‘Philippa.’ He looked away from the road for long enough to give me a goosebump-inducing hard stare.