Reader be aware; this is a story within a story. This story is about a man named Brian who is writing a story about two fictional characters named Yvette and Stuart. Brian's co-worker is named Evelyn. Evelyn is intrigued by reading Brian's story.
Certain passages that begin with the term [Open Doc] indicate that a character is reading a story. The term [Close Doc] indicates that the character has finished reading.
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On Saturday afternoon Brian received a phone call.
"Hello," he said.
"Hi, it's me Evelyn."
"Hey," he said brightly, "how are you?"
"I'm okay," she said in a quiet voice. "I'm sorry I was so abrupt with you earlier today."
"That's okay," he said, "I'm sorry if I said something to upset you."
"No!" she said quickly. "It wasn't you. I, I mean, you said something about, uh, your story that, uh, well, it just made me think of something. It had nothing to do with you."
"Oh," he said slowly, "well, I guess I, uh, well, I'm still sorry you were upset."
"Thanks," she said with a bit of a chuckle. "Well, you're a nice guy and, uh, I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
"Well," he said, struggling to find the right words, "I guess if you ever need to talk..."
"No," she interrupted, "It's just, well, I was a little upset and, uh, it's a really personal thing."
"Okay," he said, "but the offer still stands."
"Thanks," she said with a sigh.
There was a long pause where neither of them spoke, but neither of them wanted the call to end.
"I have to ask you," she said suddenly, "when you said that about Yvette's marriage, uh, you know, that she was, uh, she needed excitement, where did that come from?"
Brian paused and tried to think about what to say.
"Was it," she said quickly, "was it someone you know, or, uh, is it something you heard about, or maybe, uh. I'm having a lot of trouble here! I don't know how to ask this. Maybe it's because English is my second language."
"No, I understand." He said. "You want to know if I made this up or if it was from personal experience."
"Well," she said slowly, "sort of."
"It came into my mind," he said. "It's in books and movies all the time, and you see it a lot in that sort of thing."
"I have to ask you something else that's really difficult," she said.
Again there was a long pause.
"Did you write this with anyone in mind?" she asked. "Is it someone you know or maybe someone you met?"
Brian sighed heavily. He was afraid she would eventually recognize things about Yvette's appearance or mannerisms.
He stammered a little bit and tried to say something but nothing would come out.
"Is it about me?" she said in a weak voice.
He groaned out loud and his hand holding the phone lowered to his side for a second. He put his other hand to his forehead and pinched the top of his nose. He raised the phone to his ear again.
"Evelyn," he said.
"Really!" she said hurriedly, "is it about me?"
"Look," he said, still struggling to find the words, "I always thought you were so beautiful and, well, it was never meant to actually be you."
"So it is about me," she said. "Yvette is me."
"Only in appearance!" he said desperately. "I modeled her appearance after you. All the other stuff, that was all in my imagination!"
"So," she said slowly, "Stuart is you."
"Not really!" he replied defensively. "It was all a fantasy!"
"You fantasize about me?" she asked with a shaky voice.
He sighed again and fought to say what needed to be said. He was at a loss.
She let out a deep breath and didn't say anything.
"Look Evelyn," he said, "I really like you and I really enjoy talking to you. But that's all! I know you're married and I know you have the right to be offended for me writing this stuff, but I truly never meant any harm by it!"
She sighed again and stammered something he couldn't understand.
"Evelyn?" he said. "Are you still there?"
"Yes," she said after a moment of agonizing silence, "I'm still here."
"I'm sorry," he said. "I never meant to upset you and I certainly don't want you to feel, well, that you would need to avoid me. I know you might be feeling, well, feeling a little creeped out, but I don't want you to hate me."
"I don't hate you," she said quietly. "My husband goes out every weekend til late at night to play golf and have drinks with his friends. Our phone calls make my weekends a little more enjoyable. I just have to figure out how to deal with, well, that you have fantasies about me."
"They are truly just my imagination," he said. "I'm a normal man. Every man thinks about the women in his life like that. If they say they don't, they're lying!"
She chuckled a little and sighed again.
"Yes," she said, "I guess that's true."
"I hope you don't think less of me," he said.
"No," she said softly, "I don't think less of you."
"Thank you," he said, "I wouldn't want this to drive a wedge between us."
"There's something else," she said warily.
"Yes?"
"Well," she said hesitantly, "that part about the marriage, where she needs excitement because, well, her husband is not, well, exciting enough?"
"Uh huh?"
"Did you know?" she said so quickly the words tripped over each other.
"Know what?" he asked in confusion.
"About me?" she said so quietly he almost didn't hear.
"About you?" he said. "What about you?"
"About me and," she said, almost choking on a tear as she did, "well, my situation; with my marriage I mean."
Brian was at a complete loss. He stammered a couple of words but sentences were beyond his capabilities.
"I like to read those novels I told you about," she said as if stating her confession to a priest, "because they tell of, you know, the women in those stories, well, they seem to experience things that, uh, I don't."
Sudden understanding came to him and he swallowed hard. With some surprise he realized he was feeling guilt; guilt for exposing Evelyn's secret, even if he did it inadvertently.
He stammered a few words and then tried again. Still, nothing intelligible came out.
"It's okay," she said softly, "I can see you didn't know anything about it."
"No," he finally managed to say, "It never even occurred to me."
"But it did!" she insisted. "You wrote about it in your story! So it obviously occurred to you!"