Written 6 November 2018
The towels smelt like a spice rack, nutmeg and maybe cumin, that musty smell you get when fabric hasn't dried properly. The pool smelled a little too strongly of chlorine.
She supposed this place would have been nice a couple of decades ago, but now it had the air of neglect. Like it was only kept open begrudgingly. Everyone that worked there looked like they'd rather be anywhere else, even if they had trained themselves to smile every time a guest spoke to them.
This was her anniversary treat, a weekend at this run down spa hotel in the middle of nowhere. A perfect analogy for their marriage, though she knew that's not why he booked it. He was too oblivious to come up with such a perfect metaphor. There he was, checking the clock like a child counting down to his birthday. She tried to ignore him, read her book, but his puffy red face, slightly sweating, with his expectant baby blue eyes glued to the time made her so angry she couldn't concentrate on her prose.
“I should, uh. . .” he stood up off his pool lounger, smoothing down his robe like he was heading in for an interview. What a pathetic man. ”Massage time I think.” he finished, pointing awkwardly towards the treatment rooms.
“Enjoy dear.” She said with perfect indifference. What made her most angry was that he didn't even try to hide it. In a few minutes time he was going to have a disinterested 24-year-old masseuse’s hand round his chubby little cock, and he didn't even try to fucking hide it.
The worst thing was, she felt most sorry for the poor girl who was going to have to jerk him off. She stopped feeling sorry for herself a long time ago. Done being jealous. She thought about storming into the treatment room, but she knew the prick would make sure the door was locked. He wouldn't even give her the satisfaction of catching him in the act.
Why was she there? Habit? Too old to change? Scared of being alone? All of the above, really. The smell of the pool was making her feel nauseous. There was a wood just outside the boundary walls, the vastness drawing her away, the mystery enticing her to get out of that place and never look back.
She knew she wouldn't leave, though, and with shuddering inevitability she instead went back to her room to drink a glass of wine and sleep. To wait for her husband to get back so they could go to dinner. To think longingly of a different husband. A different life. A different spa.