Surprise
“Darling!” came a call from downstairs.
“Your agent is on the phone.”
I sighed. Despite me telling my agent more than once to use my mobile, she continued to use the landline.
“Ok. I’m coming.”
The morning as with many mornings recently, had not been that productive in terms of writing my next novel. I was sure that my agent, Agatha Smythe-Hall was calling to check on progress. I knew what I wanted to write but it would just not come out in any sort of even semi-readable text.
I went downstairs and took the phone.
"Hi, Agatha. This is an unexpected pleasure, what can I do for you on this fine day?"
As I listened to what she was saying, a feeling of relief came over me.
"I really can't believe what you are saying, Agatha. What happened to cause this?"
“Really? And someone leaked it no doubt? I guess it was your opposite number in New York but they’ll naturally deny it.”
“Yes. Of course, I’m interested but…?”
“My next novel. I know what I want to write but it just won’t come out in any usable form at the moment.”
I smiled when I heard her reply.
“That might be true. We won’t know unless I go, now will I?”
“Good. Send me all the details of when and where they want me to go and I’ll think about it. This is a big commitment and will delay getting the first draft of my next story to you.”
"Thanks, Agatha. I'll let you know in a couple of days if that is ok?"
“Ok, bye for now.”
I put the phone down and for the first time in weeks, I managed a smile when thinking about work.
After a couple of minutes, I headed back upstairs towards my Office. As I was about to ascend the stairs, I met my wife, Sara, coming down. She had a smile on her face.
“That sounded like good news?”
“Eh?”
“What Agatha was saying on the phone?”
“Yes, or maybe not. For some very strange reason, my US Publishers want me to do a book tour of the States.”
That stopped Sara in mid-step.
“Didn’t she want to talk about your lack of progress?”
“No mention of it at all.”
“But why now?”
"She said that that a Hollywood studio is looking at taking an option on 'Forever Running'."
Sara burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Didn’t…. Didn’t you say last year that if there was one of your stories that could not be made into a crap action movie it was that one?”
"Oh! I'd forgotten that. You've read it, and it is true isn't it?"
"I'm not a film director but, yes, I would not know where to start."
"Agatha said that this interest was leaked to the media by my American Publisher. She also said that there has been quite an upsurge in sales of all my books. As a result, a tour with some signings and general flag-waving was suggested."
“Are you going to go?”
"In principle, I will but, I need to know what they want from me and the schedule."
“Oh, you will go and enjoy every minute of it.”
“So? Why not come with me then?”
She sighed.
“I can’t just take off just like that. We have to set the council budget in the next month. The head of Finance at the local Council, can't just disappear for what? A month or more and at such short notice? Sorry darling."
“It would be nice if you were with me.”
Sara took hold of my hand and smiled.
“I am a big girl you know. I can look after myself while you are away.”
We didn't discuss the trip that night. I was still trying to let it all sink in and failing miserably.
My UK agent emailed me a proposed list of dates and locations in the early hours of the morning.
One look at it, and I knew that it would not be much fun. They wanted me to be in LA one night, New York the next and Seattle the one after that. The more I looked at it, the more I knew that I'd never agree to their proposals.
If I accepted their plan the all I’d see of the USA would be the inside of airports and planes and not much else.
I prepared a timeline of my own. It was clear to me that the trip was being carried out, on the cheap. Three 'red eyes' in three days was not my idea of fun. They were saving on Hotels as well as using the cheapest flights especially, with no flying direct but via those horrible hub airports and the hours waiting for the connecting flight. The worst connection was eight hours in Atlanta for a flight to Charleston after arriving from DC. I could have driven between the two cities in less time than they wanted me to sit on my backside at the airport. I was not going to play their silly games.
Sara agreed with my conclusions and said out of the blue,
“Why not do that road trip you have always been promising yourself.”
“Wh… what do you mean?”
“What I’m suggesting is, that you fly to Florida, probably Miami. Then get your Agent to buy or rent you a car. It does not have to be a new one but serviceable and with working AirCon. You could drive across the US taking in a new schedule of events and visiting all those places you have been talking about visiting since before we were married. You know how I don't like long road trips. Isn't this the ideal time to see the Rockies, Yosemite and everything else and not have to make allowances for me being car sick every few hours?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
Sara laughed.
“No, I’m not but… you have not exactly been productive this past month or so. I can hear you hitting the keys but from what you have said, there has not been a lot of progress on ‘Time for the Bell’?”
I visibly sagged. She was dead right. If I took an extended trip, it would help with my inspiration. It had before and it probably would again.
“I need to think about this.”
Sara looked at me and raised an eyebrow.
“Why don’t you plan an alternative itinerary? Who knows… you might even grow into the idea?”
I knew that I had lost. Sara knew me very well. Too well at times but… this time, she was right.
After some initial reluctance, I got interested in the task of preparing an itinerary that would take me on a long road trip that encompassed almost all of the 'Lower 48 States'. Only Arkansas, Rhode Island and Maine, were missing. Maine was just a short trip up the coast from Boston should I decide to tick that one off before my flight home. After just over two days of work, I declared it done and dusted.
I printed off the bits that were relevant to my US Publishers. My version of the programme included all those that were on their initial list plus another six optional stops. I'd added Denver, Vegas, Portland, St Louis, New Orleans, Tampa/Orlando, Charlotte and Atlanta to their programme. If they didn't want me to do my thing in those cities, then so much the better. I was going to visit or at least pass through them anyway.
Sara took one look at it and smiled.
"There… that wasn't so hard now, was it, eh?"
“Humpfffff.”
"Why don't you send that off to your agent right now. Then we can go out for dinner. My treat."
I stopped in mid-step. This was not like Sara at all, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
It took a week of email exchanges between me, my agent and the US Publishers and a ‘schedule as they kept referring to it was agreed. I would leave for Miami at the end of April and not return home until mid-July. The biggest issue I had, was trying to make them understand that I didn't want a bog-standard SUV unless it had 4-wheel drive. A few of the more off the beaten track places that I wanted to visit required a 4WD vehicle. I’d even suggested a Subaru as the ideal car, but that seemed to fall on deaf ears. Finally, we came to a deal. I'd rent the car, and they'd pay all my Flight and Hotel room costs apart from room service, which I rarely used so, it wasn't that much of a hardship. The overall deal suited me down to the ground.
I repeatedly tried to get Sara to come with me. While, it was possible for Sara to take a three-month leave of absence, she was adamant that the new council budget needed bedding down. The council had had to cope with a large reduction in their funding from Central Government, so I understood her reasons why but, it would have been nice to have her with me on the trip.
"But Sir, no one wants all-wheel drive in Florida!"
"If you look at the rental, you can see that I'm renting the car for ten weeks and returning it to Logan Airport in Boston. Might it be possible that I may go somewhere in that time that needs a modicum of off-road capability?"
“Sir, our insurance does not cover you for going off the paved highway.”
“Really? Your website says differently.”
I searched through the items I’d printed out and came to the car I’d chosen.
“Read the description of the vehicle I wanted to rent.”
The clerk read it.
“You are still not insured. I’m going to cancel the booking.”
That was it. She wasn't to budge. The manager was at another branch, so that was it. It did leave me stuck in the sticky heat of Miami with no wheels. I could feel the time difference catching up on me rapidly. I left the rental company after ensuring that there would be no charges to hit my credit card over the mistake that they had made. I took the Hotel Shuttle to where I was going to stay for the next three nights.
The following morning, I collared the manager at the rental company and explained my situation. He laughed.
"The rental people don't get much call for that sort of vehicle down here. Now, if you were in Denver, it would be a different matter entirely."
He sighed.
"I hate it down here in all this heat. I was born in Colorado Springs. Summers are nice back there."
I'd already guessed that like most people in Florida, he was an incomer.
Then he added,
"Let me make a few calls, and I'll try to get something sorted out."
That pleased me no end. But… not having a car had put paid to my grand plan of visiting Key West. I knew that it was a long trip each way but that wasn’t the point. I wanted to visit the place that had starred in so many films over the decades. I was almost in touching distance of it but…
Instead of driving down to Key West, I took a cab to 'South Beach'. I was only there an hour. Far too many wannabes with tans for my liking. I sought refuge from the humidity in a Shopping Mall. It happened to be the one where I would make my first signing the following evening.
I wandered around the cavernous place and eventually found the bookstore. There was no evidence that a signing or anything was happening the following day. Slightly miffed, I went inside.
"Hello, I understand that there is a book signing tomorrow at 7 pm?"
“Oh yes. Some British Guy. We have not received the promotional material from the publishers. It should have come in yesterday. Why do you ask? Are you interested in coming along? I can put you on the list if you are?”
“The List?”
“Oh yes. Only those on the list get copies at a discount.”
“Thanks, but I think I am on the list already. I am the ‘British Guy’ as you just described me.”
The assistant did a double-take. Then she disappeared into the store only to appear some thirty seconds later with a copy of my first book, 'False Start'.
She looked at the dust jacket and then back at me. Finally, she smiled.
"Well, it sure looks like you, so I guess that it is you."
“Do you expect to have the ‘Promotional Material’ by tomorrow evening?”
"Head Office said that they'd sent it by FEDEX yesterday, so it should be here."
I had no confidence in her words.
"Ok. I'll be back at 6:30 pm tomorrow if that is ok?"
“Sure. We should be all set by then.”
I left the Mall and took a Taxi back to my hotel.
If this was a sample of what was to come, then this might not be a very inspiring trip after all.
The 'Promotional Material' did arrive in time, and the signing was a success. Well, if you call signing twenty copies of my book, that was being sold at remainder prices a success.
When I returned to my hotel, I sent an email report off to my agent. I was not a happy bunny. If this was a prelude of what was to come, this side of the trip was going to be a total disaster.
I sent a similar report to Sara and went to bed.
I woke up the following morning with a feeling of dread. If the previous evening was a foretaste of what was to follow, then I'd be better off taking the next flight home.
The emails that were waiting for me offered no real hope. Sara's note had tried to be positive, but she had this way with words that meant that she ended up rambling on and talking about things unconnected with the topic that she started with. That was part of why I loved her so much.
My agent was very apologetic. The only positive thing was that he’d sent what he called a ‘snot o’gram' to the US Publishers. For some reason, I doubted that they'd do anything.
The only good thing to come out of the day was the arrival of a Jeep Grand Cherokee from the rental company. The area manager wasn't too happy at a long-term rental, being cancelled as it had been. He'd obtained the Jeep from another branch. While it solved my immediate transportation requirements, I was still not very happy at the involvement or rather the lack of it from my US Publisher.
I drove up to Tampa via 'Alligator Alley', Naples, Fort Myers and Bradenton. The first part was good, but there was so much traffic north of Fort Myers, I regretted not taking Route 27. Then construction delayed my arrival in Tampa by almost another hour. I only had just enough time to check into my hotel, before leaving for the signing.
This evening, was better attended than the first one. I signed just over fifty copies of my book, which were once again being sold at remainder level prices. The people who came were a lot friendlier than those down in Miami. The two and a half hours of the signing went by in a flash.
The drive and the signing had left me tired out. I'd not eaten since a sandwich at Lunchtime. Thankfully, there was a 24-hour diner across the street from my hotel. As I waited for the food to arrive, I checked my emails.
My Agent was asking how the signing went. He'd sent it in the early evening UK time. I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster on an empty stomach.
The other email that was from my US Publisher could wait until the morning. I started to answer it but soon realised that I was ranting. It was understandable as they wanted to move the date of my New Orleans event up by four days. That would mean no visit to Kennedy Space Centre and no day long visit to the Battleship, USS Alabama that is preserved in Mobile, but driving over a day and a half the 650 odd miles Tampa to New Orleans.
I was still angry when I eventually fell asleep.
I sat down, feeling pretty exhausted. There was polite applause from the fifty or so people who had attended the event.
I was tired because I’d only just made it to New Orleans in time. That was due to the fact that I’d rebelled a bit during the journey from Tampa and had spent far too long visiting the USS Alabama.
Still, the sales of my books in the lower 48 states were on the rise, even if it was only temporary, so I left the bookshop an hour and a half later in a happy mood.
My good mood didn't last long the next day. Suddenly, my quite sedate schedule of events had all changed. An email from my US Publishers with the new dates and locations put the kybosh on my planned trip to the French Quarter as they wanted me in Houston that evening. They were very much reneging on the deal that we had agreed.
There was another email from my Agent in London demanding to know why they were changing it all.
There had been no reply at that time.
I slammed my laptop shut. Then, I went out in search of a Cajun Breakfast thinking… 'let them stew for a reply'. I also switched my phone to silent.
I spent the morning doing as I’d intended all along, visiting the famous French Quarter and riding on the Trams.
It was almost two in the afternoon by the time I returned to the hotel. Five messages were waiting for me at the desk. Instinctively, I knew what they contained, but I amused myself reading them in the lift as I went up to my room to pack. I had decided over breakfast what I was going to do and, that didn't involve going to Houston that day.
[end of part 1]
[Authors note]
When I wrote this little tale, I reached this point and got stuck. What happens in part 2 is a bit of fantasy but...
After a very restless night’s sleep, I decided that I needed to kill the tour and then make good use of my time on this side of the Atlantic Ocean. I knew that my decision would not go down well in some quarters so I had to vanish for a while at least. In order to disappear, I needed to find somewhere nice and quiet for a few days or even a week so that I could try to get some of the story ideas I had rattling around in my mind typed into my laptop.
After a very productive morning walk down to the French Quarter, I sent an email to my US Publisher with a copy to my Agent, informing them of my decision to cancel the rest of the tour. I cited their reneging on the agreement we had in place regarding the schedule. I sent another email to Sara explaining what had happened and that I was coming home but only after I’d gone off the radar for a while so to speak.
With that done, I simply packed my case, switched my phone off, checked out of the Hotel and disappeared from view as far as my agents were concerned.
I’d found that place thanks to a man I started speaking to while having a late breakfast that morning at the Oceania Café on Bourbon St. I used my laptop there and then to book a B&B near Kountze, Texas.
The accommodation was fairly basic but comfortable in a single-storey log cabin on the grounds of a much larger property. It promised me some peace and quiet with the added bonus of the ‘Big Thicket National Preserve’ being just up the road, it looked like the perfect place for me to disappear. As it wasn’t that far away in US Terms so I took the plunge.
To me, and after all the fucking around with other people that I’d encountered on this trip, their down-to-earth approach to life was very refreshing and a nice change.
The total quiet of the area was perfect for me. The following morning, I reviewed the email hailstorm, that had been going on between my Agent, my UK Publisher and my US counterpart. The US end of the triangle eventually all but admitted that they'd screwed up by messing with the previously agreed schedule and agreed to cancel the remainder of the tour. I refrained from commenting on the exchanges. I thought it best to stay quiet until I was back home.
I felt both a sense of relief and sadness. The US Publishers were either grossly incompetent or just that they didn't like my work very much. I didn’t know which one it was but it didn’t matter to me and would not matter until I returned to the UK.
Now that I was free of the tour, I sent off an email telling only my Agent, that I had ‘gone to ground’ for up to a week and that then I’d do a bit of sightseeing before flying back to the UK from Boston. I deliberately gave no clue as to where I was going to be holed up. The only person I gave my exact whereabouts to, was my wife, Sara.
I detected a brief moment of panic on the phone when I told her that the remainder of the tour had been cancelled.
Sara seemed happier when I told her that I would be staying at a B&B in Eastern Texas. I'd booked it for up to a week to do some writing.
"Take all the time you want, darling," she told me.
“Don’t you want me to come home?”
“Darling, I do want you to come home but in your own time. It would be a shame to have gone all that way and not ticked off a few more of those places you always wanted to visit, now, isn’t it?” Came her reply.
It made perfect sense. We had talked about coming here on holiday for years but it had never materialised.
“When I leave here, I’m going to drive to Boston. That will take me about a week plus a few days in DC and New York. That will tick off DC and a few other places from my bucket list, then I’ll come home.”
“Isn’t that a lot of driving? Wouldn’t it be simpler just to fly?”
“Darling, as I said before I left, there are some places I want to visit for research. There are key sections of 'Time for the Bell', that are set over here. Washington is just one of them. Roanoke in Virginia is another.”
“’ Time for the Bell’?”
"Yes, Darling, that is the name of my next book. I have written about ten thousand words since I came here. There are still lots of ideas still buzzing around in my head but the general plot is perfectly clear to me. Once I've got all that down, I'll head North as I told you in last night’s email. It all came to me when I was driving on the Interstate through the Florida panhandle.”
After the call, I went and had breakfast with my hosts. There was more than enough food on the table to feed five let alone one person.
After leaving the B&B, I visited the local supermarket and bought a few essentials such as a dozen bottles of water and some things for lunch. Then, I went to the preserve and found a nice spot to work.
The only people I spoke to that day were a couple of Rangers. They stopped by for a chat and to make sure that I was ok. It was only the pending shutdown of my Laptop due to an almost totally discharged battery that forced me into leaving and returning to the B&B.
I repeated the same pattern for the next five days. During that time, I became pretty friendly with one of the Rangers. On my last day in the area, I gave him a signed copy of my book from my aborted book tour. At first, he was reluctant to accept it. Instead, I made it a donation to the reserve. He went away happy especially, as I told him that the reserve would appear at the start of the book that I was writing. I had to emphasise that it was all good and that nothing bad, would happen while any of the characters were at the reserve.
While I was waiting for my luggage to arrive, I called my wife.
"Hi, Sara. I just landed. I guess that you are on your way to work so I'll see you tonight," I said into my phone as I waited for my baggage to arrive after my relatively short overnight flight from Boston.
I wasn’t surprised when her phone went straight to Voicemail. Wednesdays were always an early start for her due to the weekly staff meeting that started at 08:30.
I arrived home almost two hours later feeling tired but relieved to be back. The US trip had basically been a disaster. Once I’d cancelled the tour was when I finally managed to get some work done. I put that down to having no pressure on me to do anything. The human mind is a wonderful thing.
After a small lunch and putting some washing on, I went upstairs intending to get a bit of sleep before Sara returned home from work. I didn't expect to see a platinum/silver-coloured wig sitting on a stand on Sara's dressing table. I could not recall Sara ever being remotely interested in even hair extensions, let alone a wig.
I fell asleep, trying to think how she'd look when wearing it.
I was still dozing when I heard the front door slam shut. Sara was home from work.
I quickly got out of bed, straightened the duvet, ran a comb through my hair and went downstairs. I could hear Sara in the kitchen.
"Hello, love!"
She turned to face me, and I stopped mid-step.
“Sara?”
She was wearing makeup. That was something she'd hardly ever done in our seven years of marriage. All sorts of thoughts went through my mind including, the question, 'was she seeing someone else?'
Her passionate kiss soon banished those thoughts from my mind. This was a new and very different Sara.
“Do you like the new me?” she said when we broke apart and she had posed for me.
I had to admit silently, that the old dullard that she'd become was not the woman I'd fallen in love with and married. The new Sara was more like the ravishingly beautiful, black-haired student I’d fallen head over heels in love with on our first day at university. Her eyes were seductively made up. From the way that she was dressed, it looked like she had a new wardrobe.
“Wow!” I stuttered.
“It is still a work in progress. I wanted to do a bit more before you came home.”
“I love how you look, so please don’t let me stop you.”
She gave me another kiss. Then she surprised me again.
She reached up and pulled her black hair off. It was a wig. Underneath, she was perfectly bald.
“I had a little… no make that a huge disaster when I went to get my hair colour changed so I had it all cut off and bought a couple of wigs. I wear this one to work.”
“I…I… I saw the other one upstairs.”
"Despite the hairdresser doing a test, we found that my hair would not take the platinum colour. It went all funny, so I got Julia to cut it all off. That was three days after you left. Then I decided to keep it shaven until you came home at least."
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
"It was so embarrassing at first. I didn't know what to say to you or anyone. Now I'm comfortable having no hair at all."
I didn’t say anything for a bit.
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s not that. It is just a bit of a shock and will take some getting used to.”
Over dinner, a still bald Sara explained what changes she'd made in my absence. I had to say that I approved of them but, I dreaded being told, 'your turn now!'.
As we relaxed that evening, I gently rubbed my hand over her bald head. It was perfectly smooth. I couldn't feel any stubble at all.
“How do you get it like that?”
"A close shave every couple of days, and then this morning, I put some hair remover on it knowing that you were coming home."
“It is as smooth as a Baby’s Bum,” I commented.
“Then I’ll keep it like this.”
Then she dropped a bombshell.
"It is all your fault, you know."
“Mine? How?”
"Before you got the offer to go to the US, you said that you were not making much headway with your book, yet, I knew that you were hitting the keys a lot. When you went downstairs to take a call from your agent, I took the opportunity to take a peek at what you were writing."
My heart sank. I knew what was coming.
“I got a big surprise. But after reading a few pages, I was hooked on that female character ‘Singer’. She… is just so different from any character that you have ever written before.”
"I'm so sorry, darling."
"What on earth is there to be sorry about? When you went up to London for that meeting with your Agent a few days before you left, I borrowed your backup drive and copied all the files relating to this character I could find. I read the lot and loved it. Then I started thinking that it was me that you were portraying. In my head, I became Singer. The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that you had written the story for me. I hatched this crazy mad plan to become her for when you returned. Then your trip went pear-shaped, and here you are weeks earlier than planned.”
My feelings of doom rapidly multiplied as Sara put on the platinum wig. She was just as I'd imagined the fantasy to be. All that was missing was the dress and the boots.
Sara gave me a passionate kiss before going to her Wardrobe. Hanging right there was the silver dress that I had imagined Singer wearing in my story.
The new Sara just stripped naked there and then. The old version of her would have been far more circumspect, and hesitant about doing that. She slipped into the dress as if it had been made just for her.
“I sketched the design that you had described and then took it to the mother of one of the women at work. She gladly accepted the task of making it in two weeks. She said that it made a change from letting out wedding dresses."
It was perfect. The image that I’d had of Singer’s dress was right there in front of me.
Then she took out a pair of silver-coloured high-heeled boots. These were very long just as I’d described in my story. I wondered how she’d managed to find them. I’d searched high and low on the internet for them and had never managed to find ones with a buckle on the thigh.
“Be a darling and slip these on for me.”
In my daze, I did as she asked.
“Don’t forget to buckle them up and clip the chain.”
Hoping not to embarrass myself further, I knelt and did as she asked. The two large buckles held the boots up on her thighs. I then clipped a chain that hung down from one of the bands to a loop on the other boot. That was not in my fantasy, but for a moment, I approved of it.
Sara towered above me. The three-inch platforms and what looked like a nine-inch heel made her much taller than me.
“How do I look? Do I look anything like the heroine you wrote about?”
“You… You look fantastic. All you need is a coloured bodysuit underneath to represent armour plating and you would be there.”
Sara gave me a huge kiss.
“I never thought that you could write that type of story. When I read all of them, I found I could not stop. That day you flew to Miami, I read them all… twice. I loved them. That’s when I finally decided to become Singer.”
Sara’s smile disappeared off her face.
"I didn't quite get that thing you had over her mouth, though. It seemed to be a muzzle, but it didn't stop her from talking."
“It held a filter… for the air.”
“But it was attached to her?”
"Yes, she had multiple piercings in her lips and cheeks.
“But how did she eat?”
"Ah, darling, Singer's race only ever ate liquid food. My fantasy was set two centuries in the future and on a different planet. They all lived underground and in a very different society than we can even consider here. When they come up to the surface, they wear the masks."
“Well, then I’ll have to start getting the piercings then?”
I didn’t know if she was serious or just joking.
“Are you serious? What about your job?”
"Oh, that… I thought I might take a leave of absence. I think we deserve to have some fun together for once.”
I was stunned. Who had taken the old Sara away and put this one in her place?
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
“I was wondering who had abducted my old Sara and put this impostor in her place?”
“Don’t you like the new me?”
“Yes… But…”
“But what?”
I sat down on the bed. I was trembling as I decided that it was time for a confession.
I took hold of both her hands and looked her in the eyes.
"Sara… I… Well… My fantasy doodlings were not aimed at you."
“Who was your pin-up?” came her slightly angry question.
“Me… It was for me.”
There was silence in the room for a few seconds.
Then Sara started to laugh.
“You can’t be serious?”
"I am, and yes, it was," I replied trying not to cry.
I failed. The tears were of both joy and fear.
“Oh fuck. I got that wrong, didn’t I?”
I looked her in the eye again.
“Sara… I’ve never been able to tell anyone about my fantasies. I was too embarrassed. Then you go and do this.”
She managed to wrap her arms around me. She was wearing a new perfume. I felt slightly intoxicated by the aroma.
“Then we’ll have to do it together then.”
“You don’t mind?”
"Mind? I've known that you have always had a female side. That's why I love you so much. I had more than enough of all those macho men coming on to me before we became serious. I think we can have some fun together and… fall in love again."
I had this sudden vision of both of us with those filters over our mouths trying to kiss.
“Did we ever fall out of love?”
"Not really, but I began to think that we just became comfortable with each other. Don't you worry my darling most couples do that. I'm just saying that we have become more like friends than lovers. I saw you get a bit excited when you saw me like this. Isn't it time that we had a bit of fun together before it is too late?"
I was still thinking about what to say when Sara said,
“That’s what I was thinking of getting dressed like this. Then we could… well you know have some fun, fun. Now? I think it will be even better to do this together.”
“This? Together?”
“Well, didn’t you just say that it was your fantasy? Then we can do it together.”
I had another sudden vision of the future. In doing so, I must have shuddered.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just had this vision of your mother turning up unannounced and… keeling over from a heart attack if she saw both of us looking like this?”
It seemed that nothing I could say or do would divert Sara from her cunning plan. The problem was that a good part of me wanted to go along with it. The rest of me was telling me to run a mile.
The first part won over.
“Ok,” I said quietly.
It looked like our life together was going to get a lot more exciting in the very near future.
[Nine Months Later]
“Well Darling,” I said as I served breakfast to my wife Sara.
“How does it feel to be a successful author?”
“I am still rather gobsmacked by the whole thing.”
Her first book, “Singer Escapes” had just reached the top ten bestseller list.
It had been quite a year. My book had been my most successful work yet but was probably going to be dwarfed by the sales of her book. When I first suggested to Sara that she have a go at letting her imagination run riot and write about Singer I had no idea how it would turn out.
Sara had as she promised taken a sabbatical from her job and became Singer. Thanks to a 3-D printer, she was soon able to create a mask that emulated the one I’d sketched out in my short stories.
Once she’d started living as Singer, she had all these ideas for stories involving her heroine. We had many debates about Singer’s backstory. I had my own ideas but Sara took it all in a different direction that amazed me with her creativity.
Sara didn’t tell me that she’d entered her first Singer story in a short story competition. It was only when an agent called me on the day the results were announced asking if I was writing as Sara. She’d won the competition. From then on, there was no holding her back.
Her agent was even talking about selling the film rights for her book.
[The End]
[Authors note]
I did write a lot more but I’m afraid my imagination got the better of me and it got pretty weird. I will leave what that is to your own thoughts.