I stepped out of the station with my colleague Monica. The tagline under the town’s name read: the birthplace of the industrial revolution. I felt like I was walking into a history lesson. Monica glanced at her smartphone then pointed down a desolate high street.It’s fair to say I never like working away, especially in towns like this. northern and industrial. As we began to walk I looked around me at the neo-classical architecture. It would have been an impressive introduction, but the shop fronts were empty or filled with charity shops, fast-food outlets, and bookmakers. There was also the odd pub that looked far from welcoming. It’s a town that lives on memories of a golden age. A bit like my mother-in-lawI shouldn’t be too critical, my husband is a northerner, proudly so. John was born in a town like this. He always tells me that coming from a place like this gives you soul. That having dirt under your fingernails gives you a healthy perspective on life. An inner drive to better yourself but not to forget your roots.However, as true as that might be. John wasn’t exactly open minded when we first met. I think he had hardly interacted with a minority before he met me. Spending the first year of my life in Turkey, my parents moved to the UK to complete their further studies, Hence, I have lived most my life in London. Truth be told I see myself as a Londoner rather than Turkish.Luckily for me, we both now live in the south where it’s nicer, sunnier with better shopping… Not to mention more diverse. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the north. Its countryside is to die for. But my home is the south. It always will be.Monica and I walked to the bottom of the street where we found our town center hotel, a Premier Inn. It was a cheap and cheerful chain hotel which is more like a Hilton in a town like this. I didn’t plan on spending the night here. Not that I had told Monica that. I planned to make an excuse after the pitch at the hospital, and catch the last town out of Dodge.The one good thing about this God awful trip is Monica.Monica is ten years older than me. She was fast approaching middle age. Not that you’d know it. She is young at heart. She looks like a former glamour model, even if it’s one on a downward slope. Tall, blonde, relatively slim with a healthy chest but fighting the crows feet and laughter lines. The office flirt. All the men love her. But so do the women. Basically, Monica is best summed up in four letters. MILF. As John crudely put itBut he had a point.Not that I’m a lesbian. Far from it. But Monica lightens my day. She’s pretty awesome, really. My manager, my mentor, she’s even becoming a friend. That’s why when she asked me to go on a sales pitch to a client in a far flung provincial town… I jumped at the chance. A girl needs a friend. But since I met John my friend count has dwindled. I’m not complaining. I’m happily married. But Monica gives me a social outlet to express.But I don’t have a child. That’s the only thing missing from my life. Me and John had been trying for over two years now. It will happen. I think it’s just fate. Maybe when I get my promotion to Product Manager it will happen. I’m sure of it.Life will work itself out. It always does.~The pitch proved highly successful. More so than we had imagined. Monica took the lead of course. She hammered the buyer until they were putty in her hands. She could sell sand to an Arab or bad weather to a Brit. I backed her up with clean and crisp stats. We sold them a dream and they bought it. They didn’t just take the trial of our dementia drugs, they signed up for two years. Two whole years! Head office couldn’t believe it until we sent over the paperwork. So shocked, management said we would not just be rewarded through our bonus scheme, but have also been forwarded a hundred pounds to celebrate Ataşehir Escort tonight.As I said, I had toyed with getting an early train back south. But Monica had other ideas.Resting on my hotel bed texting John, I heard a knock. I was about to ask who it was when Monica let herself in. Her blonde hair flowed in locks as she stood in the doorway holding a bottle of champagne. Wearing a slim fitting trouser suit over an ivory blouse and high heels she gave me a smile.”Semra. It’s only fair you join me. But we can’t talk about work or kids.””I don’t have kids.””Good point. Of course, you haven’t. OK. without me talking of kids, then.””It’s just…””You’re pregnant?””No,” I let out a sigh. I was becoming a little too broody for my own good. “Unfortunately not.””Please. Forgive me for always going on about motherhood. You’re still young. Enjoy yourself, there’s no rush. I used to be young and fun like you.””To be honest, I would like to be back home with John.””What?” Monica arched her trimmed eyebrows in mock shock. “Maybe you’re not as young as you look.” She offered me a glass. “Now, I know John is a handsome man. But from time to time a girl’s gotta let her hair down.””I know. But…”Struggling with the cork, she then whooped when it burst free, and quickly poured the champagne into a glass. “A night out is good for the soul. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.””It does. I can see your point. It has been a while since I’ve been in a bar.” I thought for a moment… in fact, it had been years since I had a girly night out. “Maybe, Monica, I’ve gotten too comfortable spending my Friday nights on the marital couch.””Then, please? I owe you a drink for earlier. I was good, but my new favourite backed me good and proper. Plus, I’ve been waiting to take you for a drink. I think me and you will be a hit in the bars, Semra. More so in a town like this. The cougar and her cub. That’s what they call it now.””We’re both married.””Don’t worry about that. We’re only window shopping.”I chuckled. “Every girl likes window shopping, I suppose.”John was on an evening shift. Even if I got the last train back to London. I would be home alone until seven in the morning. Truth be told, when he gets back he’s always a zombie, anyway. “Sure. Count me in.””That’s the spirit, girl.”Me and Monica sat in the restaurant of the hotel. The meal was average and so was the wine. All these hotel chains are the same. Same decor, same smiley service. I swear even the guests are the bloody same. Nothing is ever bad. Just average. 6 out of 10. Like my sex life. Did I just say that? The champagne must be going to my head.From the covered terrace, we watched the sun dip below the hills as the late afternoon turned into the evening. The champagne flowed. In fact, we were both on our third glass. But I was still with it, just about hanging onto my sober self. I felt it was important to remain on duty. Although Monica was more than friendly I remained conscious of the fact that Monica was my boss. A friendly one, yes. But she was my boss. So I didn’t stray too far from the conversation of work. But Monica didn’t seem to appreciate the professional chatter.She glared at me.”Semra. Less about the pitch and the office. I asked you out to take my mind off work.””OK… what’s your favourite TV show?””I prefer to read. Hey. I got a better topic.” With a devilish smile. Monica, asked, “How’s the sex life?”I froze. But knew I had to come up with an answer, A good salesperson should never be caught out with a question. Even an awkward one, no matter how uncomfortable it is. “It’s OK.” Shit, was that the best answer I could come up with? “I can’t complain. I suppose I’m satisfied.””Jesus. Don’t worry, girl. It gets better with age.” There was a pause. Then Monica, smirked. “Thought Ataşehir Escort Bayan you Hindus invented the Kama Sutra and never stopped fucking… and that’s why there’s so many of you.””Excuse me?” Monica’s ignorance was part of her charm. And the alcohol seem to exaggerate this. “I’m not Hindu.””Muslim? To honest I switch off when it comes to religion.””Yes.” Her conversation was making me wish I had got the last train home. Fucking sex and religion. Will probably discuss politics next. Give me office gossip any day.”But you dress so sexy, Semra. Not in a slutty way but you’re obviously proud of your legs. You always have them out. And I don’t blame you, girl. You have real pins.””Thanks.” Compliments. That was one way of making me forget about the casual racism. I glanced down at my crossed legs. It’s true, I am proud of my figure. Although at twenty nine it’s becoming harder to keep. I do my best to hit the gym twice a week. Even if I spend most of that time gawping at my personal trainer.”And I’ve noticed you like the attention of the men in the office. You have them chasing you like they’re your entourage, or something.”I smiled, curiously. “You have?” I went to take a sip of champagne but realised I had emptied my flute glass. “It had never occurred to me that I had such a reputation. I mean, I do like the attention of men. But I never thought of myself as a flirt.””You’re a good one.””Guess I’m not the good girl I thought I was, then. But every girl likes attention. Right? You’re just as bad.””I am.” Monica looked surprised as the waiter came to the table, placing two cocktails on our table. She then glanced at me. “Did you order these?””No,”The waiter gestured to a table of men as he spoke to us. “From the gentlemen at the table in the corner, madam.””Oh. How lovely.” Monica waved and laughed, then blew a kiss at the table of men. Turning to me she muttered. “We will have to go over and give our thanks. After we have finished our drinks, of course.””I agree.” I glanced towards the men, they were a suited bunch of middle aged businessmen. They reminded me a little of my father. All married no doubt. Maybe even divorced. “Shame they’re a bit old.””We can endure them for few minutes.” Monica sipped from her cocktail. Tasting her lips, she contemplated the flavour “Peach and lemon. Sex on the beach…if i’m not mistaken. Not since Tenerife have I had that… and the drink, of course.””You make me laugh.””So, back to our little conversation earlier. Does your husband know you’re a flirt?””I’ve never thought about it.” I shrugged as I picked up the cocktail. “I guess he wouldn’t mind. He’s not the jealous type. Never has been.” After taking a sip, I frowned.”To be honest, it kinda annoys me. Pisses me off, even.” I hardly swear, so the alcohol must be definitely taking its effect.”Annoys you? Don’t be that way. Embrace it. It took three husbands to find me a man who could cope with my flirting. This one positively approves it.””Oh.””Men who aren’t jealous like confident women. In fact, most like to show them off.””John certainly likes to show me off.”Monica laughed, then pointed at me while speaking in raised voice. “I knew your John was kinky.””Keep it down, will you.” I tried to sound convincing. “And I have no idea why you would think such a thing about my loving John.””Tell me he isn’t kinky between the sheets.””He…”Monica laughed while once again wagging her finger at me. “Don’t deny it. I can see it on your face. Come on. I promise this stays between us. Like sisters. You let me into your world, and I’ll let you into mine.”To be honest, I didn’t feel like having access to Monica’s mind. I imagine it to be a pool of filth. But I felt I had no real choice. I had to work with this woman. And had to stay in her good books. What’s Escort Ataşehir the worst that can happen anyway? So, a little reluctantly, I let her into my private life. “Every man has a fetish, right?””The interesting ones do. Yes.”” And John’s fetish is… ” The world moved in slow motion as I divulged deeply private information. But I knew Monica wasn’t going to give in until she had every drop out of me. Shit, she was like a detective, or even a bloody interrogator. I continued, “… Well, he had this phase which I indulged him in for a few months. And I’m talking, three years ago or more. Not now.””Interesting. Go on.””Well, when we used to make love…” My heart fluttered. I took a sip of the cold cocktail to quell my nerves. But I still couldn’t believe what I was admitting to. “I used to tell him stories. Mostly fake tales of what I had done with men before I met him. It was funny at first, but it soon became tedious for me.””But I bet it turned him on. Made him very vigorous.”My cheeks burned. I hung my head in shame. “The stories made him like a stallion.””So. Why stop?””He got a bit carried away. He posted personal pictures of me online. He got off on the comments. I was so angry I snapped.””Not good. Has he behaved since?””Yes. Good as gold… I do a bit of snooping on his laptop to just to make sure he’s still behaving.” I let out a sigh. ” But besides the streams of cuckold videos he’s pretty much behaving himself.””And your current sex life?””Maybe I should treat him to few more stories.””Oh… Oh.” Monica’s face lit up. Became animated as if her puppeteer just woke up. “I have a better idea.””Why do I have a bad feeling about where this is heading?””Don’t. This will be great fun for all involved. We’re going to ratchet up the flirting tonight and tease our husbands. Believe me, John will love it. Mine does. After it, you won’t have to tell him anymore made up stories. He will have all the inspiration he needs.””I need to call him, though. To let him know. I don’t want to end up divorced.””No time like the present. Call him.”~I went out into the foyer. Paced around while I planned the conversation in my head. It was a practice that rarely paid off as conversations hardly go as planned. I scrolled to his name but hung my finger just above the dial button while I waited for my heart to slow to a decent pace. Then called John. After brief pleasantries, I got to the point. “Monica’s husband is like you.””You mean perfect?””She seems to think so.””So?”There was a brief pause while I chewed my lip. But finally, I swallowed my nerves. “What I mean is… he has the same fetish as you.””You’ve been talking about me? Our private lives?””Me and Monica are very close. We’re similar people.””Semra…” To be fair, John sounded pretty annoyed. As I fear, the conversation wasn’t going to plan. John’s voice was becoming strained. “I’m not sure if I’m too happy about you sharing stuff like that. It’s not exactly normal, is it?””That’s just it, Monica is actually made up. Because, she’s in the same position as me. But she’s more experienced. And sometimes treats her husband with stories of her girly night.””Oh.””Sexy stories.””Interesting.”Finally, John seemed to be coming on side. “John. What I’m proposing is… And you can veto anything I say. But I will play a little. And tease you with pictures of our adventures with the locals. And…of course you can hear all about it when I get home.””Just be safe. Don’t do anything stupid.””Don’t worry. I’ll be in control.” A load of voices echoed in the foyer as a group of guests came in off the street. “Listen. I gotta go. Love you.””Love you. I can’t wait for you to come home… with plenty of inspiration.””Goodnight, my love.” I hung up the phone. Slipping the phone into my handbag I turned then walk back into the restaurant but was met by Monica at the entrance. “Leaving?””Yes. Time to go into town. John is cool with it?””Yes,””I knew he would be.”The excitement was growing now. In fact. I felt younger already. I suddenly remembered the men who got us the cocktails. “Mon, I thought we were going to thank those guys for the drinks.””No bother.