An Affair Remembered

"Marc was furious with her," another remarked.

"He obviously wasn'tthat furious; did you see the way he kissed her? It almost made me jealous."

"I think she was crying when she left."

"She wasn't crying! They were only acting. They don't even like one another," came a quick rebuttal.

"Well, whatever they were doing, it washot!" another declared.

"Sizzling!" someone else agreed.

I moved away from the small window and sank heavily down in my chair, nursing my second cup of champagne. I was giving every possible consideration to how I should handle the situation. My options were to ignore it completely and pretend it never happened, or to confront it head on and put an end to the speculation and innuendo.

There was another audible disturbance in the outer office. My head snapped up when I heard Marc's voice.

"Where's Cindy?" he asked sharply.

"In her office," Penelope replied. "But...she asked not to be disturbed!" she called after his back as he flung open the door to my office.

The door rumbled like thunder as he slammed it shut. I pressed a finger to my lips to shush the tirade I knew would come. My subtle reminder that others were listening in the outer office seemed to temporarily cool his ire. There was total silence both from beyond the walls and within.

He turned and paced the office without uttering a word.

"Marc..." I began.

He held up his hand to silence me. "Don't say a word! Not a word!" he warned quietly. "Before I tender my resignation, I want you to hear me out."

I hadn't anticipated Marc's offer to resign. Immediately, I was on my feet and fishing in the refrigerator for another bottle of wine.

"Would you care for a drink first? I'm already two up on you."

I didn't wait for his response. I poured a fresh glass and handed it to him.

"Champagne in a cup?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and a frown of dismay.

"The alternative is my shoe. I don't keep crystal champagne flutes in my office."

He turned the cup up and drained it in a few swallows. I offered him the bottle and he poured himself a refill. I perched myself on the corner of my desk and held out my cup expectantly. He emptied the bottle into my cup and tossed it into the trash.

"Do you really think getting drunk is going to help the situation any?" he asked with sarcasm.

"It might. It certainly can't hurt. I know I feel a little better already."

"I'd kill for a scotch right now," he muttered.

"It just so happens there's a bottle of scotch in the cabinet behind Richard's desk over there. Help yourself."

I watched as he searched the cabinet and retrieved a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch. He poured a triple shot in a fresh cup and leaned against the counter as he sipped it.

Several long moments of silence followed as I waited patiently for him to calm down and relax.

"Marc, I have no intention of accepting your resignation. I don't think that is necessary."

He grunted in response and turned up the cup, downing the contents in one large gulp.

"Feeling better?" I asked as I watched him pour another drink and return Richard's bottle to the cabinet.

"Not yet, but I'm getting there," he replied as he eyed me from across the room. "Your hair is magnificent. This is the first time I've seen you wear it down. It's beautiful," he commented softly.

"Can we talk about something besides my hair?" I suggested.

He downed the rest of his scotch and set the cup aside before he approached me where I half-sat on the corner of my desk. He stopped in front of me and cocked his head curiously at me.

"Would you like to talk about how you totally exasperate me at times? Or, the fact that you are the most stubborn, pig-headed, insolent, intolerable...beautiful, talented and desirable female I've ever met?"

"I'd have to say the feelings are quite mutual."

"You're nothing but trouble!" he snapped as he turned away and rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Why do you constantly make fun of me and ridicule me?

"My students no longer respect me because of you. They all call me 'Maestro' now. Everything you say pisses me off and everything you do, turns me on. You're nearly half my age and I'm a married man!" he protested loudly. He faced me again with an accusing look.

"Are you by any chance suggesting that I'm trying to seduce you?" I asked. "I didn't kiss you tonight, Marc. You kissed me."

"That kiss was an accident!"

"Anaccident?" I asked with disbelief as our voices rose in volume. "No, Marc. An accident is when you spill the fucking coffee on the rug. Your kissing me wasno accident," I argued. "You wanted to kiss me and you did."

"No..." he persisted in shaking his head, "I wanted tofuck you, but I didn't!"

He grasped me firmly by the shoulders and pulled me up from the desk. "I want to kiss you now... like this," he whispered hoarsely before tilting my head back with his fingertips.

As his tongue parted my lips, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him against me with an eagerness to match his own. My breasts brushed against his chest and my nipples rose. I could feel an equal response in his jeans as his cock hardened against my lower belly. I moaned at the sensation.

He abruptly broke our embrace and said, "I love my wife."

"Then you should go home, Marc and fuck Deidre."

"I'd rather fuck you," he said with his breath still warm against my cheeks.

"The choice is yours, Marc. Stay... or go."

He need no further encouragement. He unzipped his jeans and he removed his cock with one hand. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of it. He spun me around and roughly pressed me forward over the top of my desk while he tugged my skirt above my hips.

"Jesus Christ!" he groaned aloud at the sight of the satin teddy and garters I was wearing. My hand was already assisting him by unsnapping the crotch to allow him easier access. His penis probed between my thighs and I thrust my hips back against him.

He savagely gained entrance to my pussy and cursed again. "Fuck!"

He gripped my hips and thrust harder. "Fuck me, Cindy," he demanded.

I braced myself against the edge of the desk and met his furious pace. I could hear him panting with his excitement. Our sexual encounter felt more like a mutual assault than any form of making love.

The desk was sturdy but the contents strewn about its surface began to move as I slid forward each time he plunged deeper inside me. Accounting journals and pages of curriculum fluttered to the floor. His grunts and groans grew louder and I felt him thicken and grow.

"Marc, no..." I panted in objection as he suddenly tensed and spasmed. I moaned in despair as he emptied the last vestige of semen inside me. It was over almost before it began.

The intercom sounded and I fumbled for the phone with him still firmly lodged between my thighs. I was still sprawled face down on the desk when I lifted the receiver to my ear and pressed the button.

"Yes?" I croaked and cleared my throat.

"Cindy, everyone is gone except Vince, Gwen and me. Do you want me to lock up now?" Penelope asked.

"Uh... Yes, you can go. I'll be right out to lock up. Give me a minute to find my keys."

"Vince is waiting to see you."

"Okay. Tell him I'll be right there," I said as Marc slowly withdrew from me.

I placed the receiver back in its cradle and pushed myself upright from the desk.

I quickly reached between my thighs and snapped the crotch of my teddy closed before lowering my skirt and smoothing the wrinkles from it.

"Cindy, I..." Marc began as he reached for me. I brushed his hand aside and swept past him.

"Get out!" I snapped as I knelt to gather the papers and books scattered on the floor behind my desk.

"It will look better if you just leave now, Marc. I'll talk to you tomorrow sometime. Leave the door open when you go."

His hesitation prompted me to ask, "Do you want everyoneknowing what just happened in here? Leave, Marc. Now!"

He wordlessly spun on his heel and let himself out of my office.

"We'll talk more later," I called loudly to his back. "Come on in, Vincent," I invited in the same confident tone.

Vince and Marc passed one another in the hallway outside my office. Vince ducked his head at Marc and asked, "How's it going, Marc?"

"Never been better," Marc growled without pausing.

I met Vince at the door to my office and dangled my keys in front of him. "Would you mind terribly to see the girls out and lock up for me?" I asked softly. I avoided looking him in the eye.

"Sure...no problem," he responded quietly as he took the keys from my hand.

He returned a moment later and deposited the keys on my desk. I had my back to him and was pouring us each a cup of champagne.

"How was your day?" he asked as he flopped down in a chair.

"Long and hectic," I sighed without looking up. Vincent was my friend, and normally, he was my confidant.

"I heard you and Marc had a little run-in," he said as he accepted the cup from me.

I sipped my wine and calmly said, "Not really a 'run-in', more like a difference of opinion."

He was eyeing me suspiciously.

"It was over one of the actors. Robert. You know Robert, older guy, soft spoken," I rambled on. He nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

"Anyway, I'm Robert's acting partner. Marc got his panties in a wad because I told him Robert can't act. He ended up demonstrating how he wanted the scene played. You know how he is when you prove him wrong about something. He just had to outdo himself."

Vince grunted in reply and continued to stare directly at me. I began to squirm in my chair under his penetrating gaze.

"You're trying just a little too hard, Cindy," he said quietly.

I pretended not to understand his meaning. "Maybe, but I'm no actress either, Vince," I argued. "Marc wants the scene played how he wants it played. I'm not sure Robert and I can pull it off."

"I heard you and Marc gave a winning performance," he said with mild sarcasm.

"Marc gave a stellar performance. He got an ovation from the entire workshop. I was just an insignificant other."

"In case you haven't heard, Marc is a married man," he offered in an accusatory tone.

"So? What has that got to do with anything?"

"Don't play innocent with me, girl. I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but this office reeks of alcohol and sex right now."

He stood up and crossed to the refrigerator. He refilled both our glasses with champagne while I stubbornly remained mute.

"You really don't want to get tangled up in some office affair with a married man. Don't get me wrong... Marc is a nice guy and all. He's very dedicated to his profession...and his wife," he added.

"I've heard that about him," I casually replied.

"Didn't you believe it? They've been married over fifteen years."

"I believe it. I heard it straight from the horse's ass," I confirmed.

"Marc?" he asked with one eyebrow raised in surprise.

I nodded. "Just a little while ago, in fact."

"But, you fucked him anyway? Here?"

"It takes two, Vince," I admonished. "This is the second time tonight I feel like I've been accused of seducing, poor Marc. I told him to go home and fuck Deidre. He said he preferred fucking me. With him being Italian and all, I took it as an offer I couldn't refuse," I snorted sarcastically.

"Well, nobody is going to hear about it from me, but you know how gossip travels around here," he warned with a frown.

"Faster than the speed of sound," I agreed. "I wasn't worried about you repeating anything, Vince. If you did, you might wake up with Mr. Ed's head in your bed," I shrugged.

"If his wife finds out,you might be the one waking up with Mr. Ed. My guess is Deidre has already heard. If nothing else, she's been informed of Marc's 'performance' earlier. She may have even heard about it from Marc himself. Your little 'Italian stallion' could end up a gelding."

"I wouldn't put it past him to tell her. He seems like the 'let me clear my conscience' type," I murmured.

"How will you handle her?" he asked.

"I won't have to. Deidre is a show-business wife. She'll simply ignore it until it goes away," I predicted.

"I hope you're right about that," he sighed. "You could lose your job."

"For what? Having an affair?" I sniffed with contempt. "Richard isn't going to fire me over that."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know Richard. He's had the same idea about me more than once himself," I laughed sarcastically.

"You've fucked Richard?" he asked in disbelief.

"No, of course not. You of all people know that I didn't sleep my way to this position, Vince. I earned it fair and square. And, I've worked hard the past few months to keep the agency from developing a 'casting couch' reputation. But, I do know something about a couple of indiscretions on Richard's part. And I've seen the way he looks at me sometimes...like a hungry dog," I said. "Honestly Vincent, I know more than I care to about some of our distinguished co-workers' private lives."

"Well, that's a little shocking," he muttered. "Do all married couples cheat?" he asked.

"It does seem that way sometimes, doesn't it?" I sighed. "I know, you see me as being just as guilty for being the 'other' woman. I suppose you're right in a way. I'm not making excuses for myself, but single men are hard find. Especially since I prefer older men. I'm tired of being alone, Vince. I need someone in my life, even if it is just for a little while."

"I'm not passing judgment on you, Cindy. I'm not proud of it, but I dated a married woman once," he admitted quietly.

"What happened?" I asked.

"I wanted to marry her. She went back to her husband after six months," he said with an edge of remorse. "It almost destroyed me. I said, 'never again' and I meant it. It's too painful for all parties involved."

I tossed my empty cup in the garbage and pushed back from my desk. "And on that note, it's getting late. Why don't we call it a night and go home?" I suggested.

*****

It was mid-morning when the intercom buzzed. "Yes?" I answered.

"Marc to see you," Penelope announced.

"Send him in, please," I replied. There was a new formality in his waiting to be announced. I cradled the phone and waited for the light tap at my door. "Come in," I called.

"Do you have a few minutes?" he asked poking his head inside the door.

"Sure. Come on in," I invited as I propped my elbows on the edge of my desk and waited for him to seat himself across from me. "Have you had coffee?" I asked.

"Earlier, but I'll join you in a cup if you don't mind."

"I may need to make a fresh pot. It could take a few minutes. Would you like to walk with me?" I suggested as I stood up.

He answered by rising from his chair again, and as I rounded the corner of the desk, I felt him place one hand on the small of my back while he reached with the other to open the office door for me. There was a certain comfort, a sense of security, in way he touched me.

"I know it's late notice, but I wanted to discuss an idea I have with you," he said as we wandered down the hall to the common break room.

Heads turned our way as we walked and talked. A few people nodded polite good morning nods, but most awkwardly averted their gazes and stepped aside as we passed them in the halls. If our affair wasn't confirmed, it was clearly speculated in the minds of our co-workers.

"Do you get the feeling we're on public display?" he whispered. I nodded silently and kept my hands folded together in front of me. "Walk slow. I feel like a convicted felon on my way to the gallows," he murmured.

I giggled quietly and whispered back, "Purely circumstantial evidence, my dear Watson. They can't prove a thing. Not without a confession."

He cleared his throat and spoke loudly, "I've changed the agenda for next Monday's workshop."

We arrived at the break-room and I began the task of brewing a fresh pot of coffee as I listened.

"I talked it over with Deidre and she agreed with me. Sometimes the best method of teaching is by example," he said.

"And? What did you have in mind?" I asked as I leaned against the counter and waited for the coffee to brew.

"I want to do a series of live performances for the students."

I was slightly confused by his suggestion. "But, you do that every week. The students all watch one another perform."

"That's exactly my point. They're learning from amateur examples and they're developing some bad habits from it. They don't have a clue how to interpret the scenes for themselves, or how to improvise," he explained. "I told Deidre about the gangster scene we did and she was impressed."

I frowned slightly at any idea his wife might have approved. It made me suspicious and greatly uncomfortable.

"You're the director. You don't need my permission or approval for how you teach, Maestro."

"Normally, I wouldn't. In this case, I suspect I do."

"Go on. Explain," I said tilting my head at him.

"I want you to read with me."

"Me!" I said in disbelief. I waved my hands across one another to negate the idea. "Oh, no! I'm already in this over my head. I'm no actress, Marc."

"Your inexperience is precisely the point. It will show them how someone with no background in acting should interpret and deliver the scenes correctly. Your inexperience will challenge them. I know you're not a professional, but you do have a natural instinct."

The coffee pot gurgled. I poured our coffee and we strolled leisurely back towards my office. Once we were situated again, he resumed our conversation.

"I have an ulterior motive for setting this up, Cindy," he admitted quietly. "I want to work with you and unless you've changed your mind, this is one way to accomplish that.

"But, there's more to it than just working with you. Deidre is going to be out of town for a few days. If you agree, I want to spend some time with you; I can arrange to get a hotel room where we can be alone."

"Where is Deidre going?" I asked.

"She has an audition. She's been working with a producer for a while now. At our age, parts are hard to come by, but he admires her work. He's kept her working off and on since they met, but she's still required to audition sometimes. If she gets the part, she'll be gone a lot over the next few months."

"Well, tell her I wish her luck then."

"Does that mean you're interested in spending time with me while she's away?"

"Yes, Marc. There's nothing I'd like better than spending time you."

*****

At his orchestration, Marc and I embarked on a new journey in our relationship. I was no longer simply filling an empty slot in his classes. I became exclusivelyhis reading partner, as well as his assistant. It released me from any further obligation to rehearse or film with Robert. It also served to satisfy Richard's request that I fully support the acting program and that Marc and I work closely together in that respect.

I was nervous when we gave our first official cold reading in front of the class, but Marc was easy to follow in our readings. His creativity in improvising during scenes was nothing short of brilliant. He always managed to introduce an unexpected gesture which would prompt a natural response from me.

Acting was not acting with Marc. It was an exercise in quantum physics where we played out the many variable outcomes to a given situation. Sometimes, we would run through the same scene several times giving distinctly different interpretations and performances.

At the close of our first session, he managed to elicit the help of John in passing me the key to a certain hotel room. John became a knowing and supportive accomplice to our private affair.

When class ended that evening, John walked me to my car and handed over the key. He assured me that Marc would be establishing an alibi for his whereabouts while I was waiting for him at the hotel.