Page 169 of The Stranger

“Why your sexual outlet is a sex club. Or I suppose you might just be a fan of orgies.” Ack!

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was there by chance?”

“Were you?”

“That night? Yes. But in general?” He shakes his head.

“Why? Why not just… I don’t know. Get a situationship?”

“A situationship.” He pushes his head deeper into the pillow. “Which is what?”

“Low pressure. No labels. Just sex.”

“So all of the complications of a relationship with none of the honesty?”

“How’d you mean?”

“Someone always begins to want more. The other partner pretends not to notice until they can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Sounds like a lived experience if I ever heard one,” I mutter, maybe because that hit a nerve.

His next smile is a touch enigmatic. “At Ardeo, everyone knows why they’re there. There are no false promises. No wondering or worrying. It’s the physical touch of another person, the illusion of connection. I don’t have to answer to anyone or feign interest in the person I fuck, beyond the obvious.” And he laughs as my eyes drop to his crotch.

“Shut up,” I mutter, smacking him. I bet he’s really popular there. Stupid thought. He’s no pony.

“But I was there by chance that night. I hadn’t been for a long time.” He looks down at me. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Is that what you thought his would be?” I rush on. “Us, I mean.”

He inhales deeply and shakes his head. “These are uncharted waters.”

And I am drowning, I think to myself.

“What about you?” he asks, reaching for my hand. Palm to palm, we marvel silently at the size difference of our hands. “Because I don’t believe for one minute you were there to charge your phone.”

“It’s true!” I bury my head to his chest as he begins to laugh.

“We both know there are no phones at Ardeo.”

“I had mine. Or Sabine did.”

“And? No one goes to a sex club without an agenda.”

“Well, I didn’t have an agenda, but obviously, I was curious.”

“And?” The word is literally ten syllables long.

“I made a promise to myself a little while ago,” I find myself saying. As the words sink in, I come to realize that promise might’ve been playing in the back of my mind, like a subliminal message. “It wasn’t a promise I intended to keep,” I admit as my brow furrows, then widens almost immediately. “I sort of have.”

Wow, how crazy.

“A few months ago.” My eyes dart his way to check I haven’t put him to sleep. “I was at work, not quite a fully qualified doctor, but the ward was shorthanded, so I stayed after my shift had ended. There was a woman on the ward who we knew didn’t have long.”

“Yours must be a difficult job.”