Alice After Hours by Galia Ryan Page A

of her head, Alice thought, Unbelievable! Surely no one really thinks this way? Not in this day and age?
    There were more replies. That the original poster was truly a wondrous person. That great joy would come from such a relationship. That her husband was indeed a very lucky man.
    It had to be a setup. Either that, or the woman was a spineless non-entity, the type who wouldn’t baulk if she were short-changed at the supermarket, or if another driver nabbed the last available parking space ahead of her. It was females like this who let their sex down, and wasn’t life already hard enough? The words glass and ceiling immediately came to mind.
    Regardless, she opened up another thread and discovered a woman who got off on knowing her husband was attracted to other women, and found it arousing that he might take advantage of that fact whenever he felt like it.
    Thanks in part to the alcohol coursing through her system, Alice’s irritation was growing by the moment. How could anyone believe the male of the species was superior, and that monogamy was unnatural? And the idea that wives should be able to cast aside their insecurities and encourage their husband’s sexual fulfilment with other willing partners …. What the heck was that all about?
    Then again, it would make her life easier if other women felt that way. After all, she’d slept with more than one husband behind his wife’s back.
    Her glass was empty. She needed another hit. Going into the kitchen, she fetched the bottle—not that she intended to drink any more than another finger or two—and returned to her laptop. She scrolled down and opened another post. There she found the word compersion— finding happiness in the joy of others. Well, fuck that! Hell would have to freeze over before she would give any man she was in a relationship with free rein to screw around just so he could enjoy himself. In fact, he’d be shown the door at the first hint he’d even looked at another woman, let alone made a move on her. Self-respect was paramount, and Alice was not brought up to be a doormat.
    Interesting , the little voice in her head popped up as it so often did at such times, so you’d rather he snuck around behind your back?
    No, she answered back, I’d rather he be faithful.
    But, said the little voice, all too smoothly, wouldn’t such certainty make life a tiny bit boring?
    In the morning she would put it down to liquor-induced madness, but right at that moment she had an overwhelming urge to confront the original poster. To tell her to grow up and get a life. And so she did, daringly creating a user name and password and then typing her disparaging response.
    Alice pressed the return key with a flourish, and when the screen refreshed, her post was displayed in all its glory, slightly indented beneath the original post.
    She waited.
    Yawned and stretched her arms up over her head.
    And waited.
    There was no action, no reply. Nor was there five minutes later. Rejecting the remaining dregs in her tumbler, she shut down her laptop and went to bed.
    Now she wondered if it would hurt to take a peek and see if anyone had responded to her comments, as stupid as the whole thing had been.
    It took only a moment to discover not one, but two responses directly under her post.
    â€œ I will always be his favourite, and the one he comes home to because the others are just passing fancies. I am more to him than sex, and that’s why it works for us. Why would I want to tether him just because my sex drive may not be as strong as his?”
    Alice shook her head. The woman was clearly beyond help.
    The second was from Archangel: “Interesting point of view! But a little too emotional, perhaps? Your insecurities are showing.”
    She bristled. Insecurities? Really? She scanned the side column, found the green light next to the username. Hmmm, so they too were online at that moment. How convenient!
    Her fingers raced