Honey
I told my wife, Christine, I was going to London then drove out of the village to a hotel in the next town.
My girlfriend, Lotte, was waiting for me in the foyer. I didn’t know she was there until she blew lightly on the back of my neck, making the hairs stand on end.
“I didn’t do anything,” she protested, raising her hands. “It’s chemistry.”
My wife had packed my bag with a shirt, tie, trousers and toiletries, because she thought I was going to a two-day publishing convention. Lotte normally brought a spare pair of underwear and a silver bullet vibrator in her little blue handbag. This time, she said, she had more treats: Japanese silk bondage rope. A black satin blindfold.
*
“I asked for a double not a twin,” I said, frowning. “I suppose we could just push the beds together; I don’t want to make a fuss.” I stood looking at Lotte with my hands shoved in my pockets.
“When are you going to tell your wife?” she asked.
“Soon,” I promised. “I’ll do it soon.”
Lotte’s eyes were clear and blue. I felt penetrated. I hated myself for looking away. She headed for the bathroom, unfurling her long, blonde hair as she went.
“I won’t live like this,” she said.
“I know,” I agreed and followed her into the little room. She studied herself in the mirror as I snaked my arms around her waist. In the glass, her eyes were cold and hard. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I kissed her gently on the neck. She forgot about Christine for the time being and so did I.
We undressed quickly, sliding back into the bedroom where she sank to the floor on all fours. I crouched behind her, entered her, and held her tight enough to put purple fingerprints on her hips and shoulders.
After only seconds of moving inside her she started to change.
“Someone will hear,” I warned her.
“I don’t care,” she panted.
Wiry hairs sprouted from her back, stabbing at my palms. Blonde hair leapt along the ridge of her spine, flattened and then darkened in waves from her shoulders to her buttocks. I rubbed my hands along the thickening fur, getting electric shocks, wanting to change too, but knowing I shouldn’t.
This was the release I craved. A growl escaped me and I felt the agonising prickle of hairs forcing their way through my own skin. My cheekbones cracked and slid, saliva ran over my teeth. When Lotte came, I cut off her cry of pleasure with a clawed hand clamped hard over her mouth. Then I came too.
*
That evening Lotte emerged from the bathroom in nothing but a towel.
“I thought we could go out for dinner,” I suggested. “There’s a restaurant guide in the foyer,” I said, thinking of the smart clothes Christine had packed for me, and the gleam in Lotte’s eyes went out.
She sat heavily on the bed with her back to me, combing her long, beautiful hair. I could smell the orange scent of her shower gel and I was about to close my eyes when she turned sharply and said:
“I’m not doing this anymore!”
“I understand,” I said automatically.
“It’s not right!”
“Okay,” I said.
“You have to tell her.”
I shook my head.
“You have to,” she demanded.
“It’s not that easy!” I yelled back. “How am I supposed to say it?”
She crawled towards me and sat on her knees. Again I felt skewered. “Pretend I’m Christine,” she said and I laughed because they couldn’t be more different. “Try it,” she insisted.
I sighed. I looked right into her eyes. “Christine,” I began. She winced, then gestured for me to go on. “Honey,” I said flatly. “I’m a werewolf.”
“… Go on,” she urged.
“Not just me,” I continued. “Alice and George. And Peter … And your friend, the teacher, Kenneth.”
“And the rest.”
“The butcher,” I said. “Most of the village.”
“No, Stuart. I mean tell her rest, tell her about me. Tell her you’re having an affair.”
“I can’t,” I admitted, as much to myself as to her. “It would destroy her,” I said.
Lotte stabbed her feet into her shoes, snatched up her handbag, stuffed with unused toys, and strode to the door.
“You call yourself a wolf,” she said sadly, “but you’re not a wolf. You call yourself a man, but you’re not one of those either.”
She slammed the door behind her.
In the ensuing calm, I crossed to the minibar and got a can of cold beer.
“I am a man,” I bristled, with a growl of irritation and switched on the TV.