"You're going to get caught."
Her voice startled me. I was at the bar getting a drink, doing the usual pre-game for Friday night out with the girls. There were five of us that night; there had been a sixth, but she had already found what she was looking for before we even got to the club, a tall blonde stud that oozed sex appeal. We all knew we wouldn't be seeing her again until Monday morning at the office.
Turning slightly to my left, I saw an attractive and well-dressed older woman. The word that immediately sprung to mind was "elegant." Her black dress was sexy without being sleazy, her jewelry expensive but not showy. The woman's blonde hair was done in a style that suited her face and age, an attractive pixie cut that made her look younger.
Truthfully, I found it hard to pinpoint her age. It didn't look like she'd had any work done, but the laugh lines on her face were one of the few indicators of a life lived. I hoped I looked half that good at her age, which I made a wild-ass guess at somewhere in her fifties. What I couldn't guess was what the hell she wanted with me.
"Excuse me?" I didn't bother to hide the annoyance in my voice.
"I said, 'you're going to get caught.' I've been watching your friends since they came in the door. Getting ready for a big night?"
"Yes, I- wait, what? Watching us? And caught at what? Who are you, anyways?"
She chuckled. "My name is Amanda, and you know exactly what I mean. You and your friends are going to go out to a club? Probably? And you're all here for a little liquid courage first. Am I right so far, ah... what is your name, dear?"
"Erin. And, yeah. What are you supposed to be, some kind of psychic?"
Amanda laughed, a pleasant, if slightly superior sound. "No, not at all. Just someone who... well, who's been in your place, or something like it, before."
The bartender put my drink down in front of me. I tipped him generously, as I usually did on these nights. He was going to have to put up with women like my friends all night long, and he deserved it. I eyed Amanda as I took a sip. While I was inclined to rejoin my friends, this was one of the most interesting conversations I'd had in some time. It sure as hell beat listening to Darlene and Cindy trying to one-up each other.
"Oh? And where is that?"
She smiled, but it felt more predatory than friendly. "You're planning to cheat on your husband."
I sputtered, "No, that's- How dare you! I love my husband!"
The smile changed to one just a little sadder, her tone to a placatory one. "I'm not judging you, Erin. I'm trying to help. And I didn't say that you don't love your husband; I believe you. I did, too. But I still cheated on him."
"Well, I'm not going to cheat on mine! I... Fuck you! You don't even know me! You don't know any of us!" I started to move, but Amanda laid a hand on my wrist. She didn't grab me, though, instead applying only the lightest touch.
"Please. Stop. Just listen. There were six of you when your group came in; one, wearing a ring, already left with a guy, to the catcalls and applause of the rest of your group. Two of the remaining girls, including you, are also wearing rings. Three are not. If I had to guess, one of them is married and put her ring away, and one or two of the others is divorced."
I stopped in my tracks. "Are you... What is this? Are you a detective? Following us? Who the fuck--"
"No, I'm just a woman, like I said, who's been where you are. I had friends like that once, and I've seen groups like yours dozens of times over the years. You may have not cheated yet. In fact, I'd give odds you haven't. There are..." She waved her free hand. "... tells. The way you keep looking at your ring. Your expression when your married friends speak; by how raucous the group becomes, I assume about how they're planning to get laid, or about how the hubby will never be the wiser?" I looked away, uncomfortable. "Like I said, dear, I'm not judging. Not really."
Without looking back, I said, "Not really? What's that supposed to mean?"
"Everyone cheats for a reason. Some of them are good and some of them are bad, but it can be hard to tell which is which in the moment." She shuffled slightly so that she was fully in my view. "I'm trying to help you, Erin."
With a snort, I asked, "Help me how? Tell me not to cheat? Darlene said--"
"Your married friend? The profligate cheater?"
"... Yeah. She said that it hasn't hurt her marriage at all. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, and--"
A loud, condescending laugh from Amanda interrupted me. "Oh, no, my dear. That's definitely true. But I guarantee you, her husband's going to find out. Your divorced friend--what was her name?--found that out, didn't she?"
"Cindy." I said it quietly, but then I rallied. "But she knows how she messed up. She said--"
"--That she knows what she did wrong, and she can keep any of you from getting caught, and anyways, things turned out fine for her, right?" I just stared. "Like I said, Erin, I've seen many groups like yours. And, while I haven't always seen the aftermath, I do know what they're doing--and what they intend to get you to do--is going to end up with one of your group caught, and then it's going to end up with all of you caught.
"'Three can keep a secret if two are dead,' and there are six of you. And that's before the possibility that one of them is hoping you'll fall so that your husband will fall with you; and then she can pick him up again afterwards. Or perhaps he's already cheating on you, and this is revenge?"
I growled, "Stan's not like that!"
With a placid voice, she asked, "Are you?"
"I- I don't--"
Her hand gently squeezed my wrist. "People cheat for many reasons, Erin. Boredom, or anger, or revenge, or unhappiness. Because they want out. Because they want to get caught. Because they think they need a thrill. Why are you planning to?"
"I'm not, I'm--"
