Karla took her sweet time to talk to me again. It gave me enough time to figure out I
wanted
her to contact me. To my embarrassment, I found myself checking my phone a lot more often, so eager I was to be invited again. I even typed out a quasi-desperate message to her, one that I thankfully chose not to send at the last minute. Naturally, receiving a phone call from her several days later was quite an exciting prospect.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Peter!"
There was something off about her tone. I could sense it. This was the tone she used to talk to me when we weren't alone. Slightly more pleasant, infinitely more boring.
"Hi..."
My guard immediately went up. I wasn't certain what Karla's game was just yet.
"How are things?"
"They're... good?"
"That's good to hear."
We had a lengthy, painful session of awkward small talk. I only put up with it in hopes of getting to the fun part.
If
there was going to be one.
Every pointless question she asked made me more exasperated. I could almost
hear
the smirk on her face each time I sighed. The only reason I didn't blow up on her was because I hardly knew who she had with her. Goodness knew she was crazy enough to phone me in front of her husband.
"May I ask why you called?" I tried to hurry her along.
"I just want to talk to someone. It gets so
dull
when you're home alone."
Her words didn't make me any more relaxed. I still sensed a trap somewhere.
"And you chose me?" I replied cautiously.
"You answered quickly, didn't you?" she giggled. "And you've been
such
a good conversationist this far."
Finally, I began to lose my patience.
"You sound off. Last time we spoke you had a different tone."
There was silence.
"Karla?"
"I can expla-"
Her voice, now more urgent, was cut off. I tried calling her back. No answer. Oh, how it fucking terrified me. I tried and retried to get an answer with no success. My mind raced across all the worst possible outcomes, and how I could get myself out of them. I wondered if her husband had been overhearing the whole thing. I wondered if my
friend
was there and started asking questions. I considered contacting him to somehow get a better idea of what was going on. I thought better of it.
After the longest twenty minutes of my life, my phone rang again. Karla. I probably wouldn't have answered had it been anyone else. Not in that mood.
"Is everything okay?!"
"Gosh, Peter, you sound terrified."
Her familiar tone was back. That mocking, cruel voice that always punctuated its words with mild chuckles of ridicule. I became both angry and relieved as she laughed for a few good seconds. My fear had been such I couldn't even reply in any way.
"How do you like my acting, Peter?" she asked cheerily.
"Go fuck yourself!"
"I'm not gonna do your job," she laughed some more. "Come here, already."
I paused again. I could still hear my own heartbeat. My hands were still shaking. It took a lot of concentration to even speak with her.
"I'm only going if you're really alone."
"I'M GOING TO FUCK A MAN BEHIND MY HUSBAND'S BACK!" she bellowed. "Is this alone enough for you?"
I narrowed my eyes. All my previous eagerness to fuck Karla again had now evaporated. I found my energy practically depleted.
"I'll think about it."
Before she could put that viperine tongue of hers to use again, I hung up. I buried my head in my hands. For all my eagerness, all it took was another of Karla's games for me to break down. Scares like these had a way of bringing you back to reality, to the moral questions you'd been happily ignoring.
This time, I tricked myself into visiting Karla with the old 'one last time' excuse. I think I actually believed it. I wasn't just an asshole, I was a gullible one.
I found all the doors already open for me at her house. Even as I stepped inside her apartment, the only sign of life I found was her voice, seemingly aloof, coming from my friend's bedroom.
"Close the door on your way in!"
I did as she told me, with the appropriate level of wariness.
Karla's attire was so unexpected my concerns about going to my friend's room quickly washed away. She wasn't just overdressed for adultery; she was literally dressed for the one occasion you probably never consider it in.
"And what the fuck is this?"
"You don't like my wedding dress?" she bit her lip and pushed her breasts together.