Obsession: The bestselling psychological thriller with a shocking ending. Amanda Robson

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СКАЧАТЬ half of the bottle is left, and pour us two large glasses. He watches me serve up the oysters I nipped off to buy while the children were choosing sweets. I’ve never liked them, they taste of seawater, but Jenni once told me they were Craig’s favourite. So tonight, oysters it is.

      We sit at the table, slurping them from their shells and wiping our plates with ciabatta bread. I wince inside every time I swallow one. We drink too much wine, finishing my bottle, his bottle and opening another one. We look at one another in the candlelight, playing with one another’s eyes. He seems smaller in the candlelight, the shadows softening his bulk.

      ‘How’s Jenni getting on?’ I ask topping up his glass.

      His eyes harden. ‘Her mother’s dying, so how do you think?’

      ‘I can’t think about death, it terrifies me. I have a head in the sand approach to it. Maybe if you’re religious it’s easier.’

      I’m aware that I’m having to concentrate not to slur my words; deliberately clipping my consonants and shortening my vowels.

      ‘Maybe everything’s easier if you’re religious,’ Craig says, leaning forward intensely.

      ‘Jenni and Rob, our God Squad,’ I say and laugh.

      I am sober enough to see his hard eyes piercing towards me.

      ‘God Squad – sounds like an army. It’s not as intense as that.’

      ‘I know, I know,’ I slur quickly, ‘I was only joking.’

      Bitch-whore Jenni, when I’ve seduced your husband the joke will be on you.

      ‘Well, it can’t be that bad if you can joke about it.’

      ‘Craig, I never said it was bad. Come on, time for the next course.’

      I stand up and start to clatter runny French cheese and Waitrose sunflower seed biscuits onto the table. We pick at the cheese and finish the wine. We devour lemon tart from the local bakery and open a bottle of Tokai. As I reach for the coffee machine, the room starts swaying gently. Time for coffee and San Pellegrino.

      I balance my way from the kitchen into the sitting room, concentrating hard not to drop the tray loaded with water and coffee. Craig follows me; we slump next to one another on the sofa. I hand him a glass of water and a cup of espresso, aware that my hand is trembling.

      ‘You can stay the night if you want.’

      His face blurs in front of me. Even though I can hardly see them, I try to focus on his eyes and give him my come to bed look. Through the fug of my mind, I hear him say,

      ‘Carly, you must know I can’t do that.’

       ~ Craig ~

      ‘Carly, you must know I can’t do that.’ I say the words, but they cost me.

      My cock is pulsating in my pants, so much so that it hurts. I close my eyes and will it to stop. Since I married Jenni, I have made such an effort to be faithful. Because I love her. I love Jenni so much. I hold her hand in my mind and pull her towards me. She smells of roses and patchouli oil. She is my angel.

      Carly, you must know I can’t do that.

      But the pulsating rage of my cock is increasing. I stand up. Carly stands up too. I am stepping towards eyes of china blue. My arms are pulling her towards me. Plump. Warm. Welcoming. Hungry lips kiss mine. An animal about to devour me, smelling of musk, incense and desire. I can’t contain myself. We fight to remove each other’s clothing; ripping, pulling, a disorganised frenzy. She is stroking my cock, and I feel for her. She is ready for me. Within seconds I am inside her, pumping into her as she falls backwards onto the sofa. I close my eyes as I pump. She moans like a feral animal as I explode inside her.

       ~ Jenni ~

      I’m FaceTiming you, Craig, because I’m missing you. I’m missing your comfortable arms around me. Missing the feel of you. The heat of you. I am not FaceTiming Luke and Mark because seeing me may unsettle them when they seem to be doing so well with you.

      Your smiling face appears in front of me – a ‘beam me up, Scotty’ moment – a miracle too futuristic to be real. But it is real. You are smiling up at me from my iPad as if you were in the room. For a second I think I can smell the hard-edged scent of your favourite aftershave. It’s there for a second and then gone.

      ‘How’s it going?’ you ask, your face crumpling in concern.

      ‘She had a good day today,’ I say, trying to sound bright, trying to smile, wanting to let you know I’m not going to drag you down. That I can cope.

      What I’ve told you is true; she has had a better day. But better is a comparative term. Still she has slept almost incessantly, like a small baby bird, bony and vulnerable, her Egyptian cotton bed sheets her nest. Still she hasn’t eaten, even though I tried to force a gel pack of sugary nutrients between her teeth. Still her chest wheezes like wind in the trees. But today, at least, morphine has contained her pain.

      ‘How are the boys?’ I ask.

      ‘Fine.’ You pause, watching me watching you. ‘Honestly,’ you add as if I might think you were lying.

       ~ Carly ~

      I arrive first. I always arrive first. The receptionist at the Travelodge recognises me as soon as I enter, a red baseball cap covering my short golden hair – for I use the same disguise every week.

      I perform my usual ritual, once I’ve checked into the room. The ritual I have honed over the last few weeks, ever since my first night with Craig. Closing the curtains. Lighting a joss stick. Stripping to my stockings and black lace body. I am wet and throbbing just thinking about him; he is the best lover I have ever had. Sex with Craig has improved sex with Rob. Craig has taught me new tricks and Rob enjoys them, not knowing who to thank.

      Sitting on the bed, legs apart, right hand inside my silken panties, I play with myself idly, just as a warm up, feeling the erect springy bud of my clitoris like a taut piece of guitar wire.

      He’s here. I am pressed against him as soon as he’s inside the room, the door closed safely behind him. His lips find mine, his tongue penetrates my mouth. I remove his jacket. My hands tremble as I unbutton his shirt. We are on the bed now, ripping one another’s clothes off, my large breasts wide and firm, topped by their perfect jutting nipples. The large breasts that I am so proud of. I sit next to him on the bed, laughing with happiness. Moments like this are the best moments of my life. I know how to sit, legs to one side, indenting my waist to show my perfect breasts to advantage. He nuzzles towards them, but I move away. Not today. There are other plans today.

      I pull away from him to admire him. He has pale skin and dark hair; he is beautiful. Lucky Jenni. But at least I can have a piece of him. Rob wants a piece of Jenni. I want a piece of Craig.

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