Class Reunion

"Tell me. Roxanne. Honey."

She tried to push him over. He kept her pinned in place, and still he moved inside her, nudging her with each push. He touched her cheek with his lips, very lightly, very tenderly.

"Why can't you just fuck me!" she said, exasperated.

"Because it isn't anger. Roxie. Just tell me. I'm here with you, for you. I'm listening. I won't judge you."

She let out a wail. Then she moved her hands away from his ass, sliding them up his body, caressing him. She still moved her hips to meet his, they met on each stroke, him deep inside her, and grinded together. She had her arms under his and she grabbed his shoulders, tight.

"No it's not anger," she whispered fiercely, looking into his eyes. "It's shame. Because I never loved him enough, I never loved him like he deserved to be loved. I could never give that to him and he knew it."

He waited to see if there was more. She didn't continue. He kissed her gently on the lips.

"Go on," he said. "All the way. Go all the way through it for me, honey. I'm right here. I hear you."

"I...I don't..."

"It's not shame," he said. "Tell me."

She shuddered. And still they kept their slow grind going. It was almost like they were a machine, two parts of a whole, just moving together. Going together so well.

"I know he could see it in us tonight," she whispered. "What I feel with you. What I felt with you. What I couldn't feel with him no matter how hard I tried. It makes me so...guilty."

"It's not guilt," he whispered, his lips close to hers. "All the way. Darling."

She let out a small sound and pulled him closer. He lowered his head to her neck. She was clinging to him.

"It's sorrow," she whispered quietly. "It makes me so sad. I'm so sad I couldn't be what he needed me to be. I'm so sad my daughter's family is forever broken. I'm so sad I've fucked up so much in my life. I'm just sad."

"Good," he breathed against her neck. "So good, honey. You're so brave."

He lifted his head to look at her.

"I love you," he said tenderly. "Now stay with me."

He looked her in the eyes and started to increase the length and speed of his movement. She kept eye contact and moved with him, and they built it together, breathing into each other's mouth, making small, loving noises.

When her orgasm started it felt like it was his own, they were so synchronized now. It was like a tide rising, he was awed by its strength. He didn't have any doubts, he knew he would cum with her the second she did. There was absolute certainty and love inside him, and a strange calm feeling in the center of his being. And then suddenly the massive wave of her pleasure rose over their heads and drowned them in a sea of bliss.

She grabbed him hard and moaned, he surged as deep into her convulsing pussy as he could and grunted when he exploded. He twitched and pulsed inside her, she twitched and pulsed around him. He couldn't differentiate which was which. They were one, they melted together, their souls joined to become one entity. Their bodies were a mangled heap of sweaty skin and slowing heartbeat. They breathed together for the longest time.

He moved to her side and pulled her back against his stomach, spooning close to her. He could feel her heartbeat in her back.

"How could you know what was bugging me," she asked quietly.

"I know you," he said and kissed her shoulder. "Remember how close we let each other when we were young? I know you like you know yourself. Besides it's the same with me and Shirley and I've been thinking about it a lot lately."

They both contemplated this for a minute.

"And Roxie?" he said. "You asked what Shirley looks like. She looks like you."

"No way," she said, sounding incredulous and delighted. "Isn't she like a model."

"Was," he said. "She's got long curly dark hair, brown eyes and dimples. So you know, after all that fucking around, when I wanted to start a family I chose a woman who looks like you."

He put his hand on her side and tickled her a little. "And you chose a black giant with humongous cock. So. Yeah."

"Now you're being mean," she said. "I think it was because he's like you. Not physically but mentally."

"Well I've always been the visual one," he said. "Shirley may look like you but mentally she's nowhere near. She's sweet, or at least was, in the beginning. But she doesn't understand me the way you do. Well. nobody does, not even me, so that's unfair. But she's so shallow when I compare her to you. She's just a nice woman who would've deserved a nice husband and a nice life."

She was quiet and snuggled closer to him. He wrapped his arm tighter around her and tried to be as big and comforting as he could. He loved how her hair was moist from her sweat in her neck when he kissed her there, right to the spot he had so longed for when her hair was up earlier.

"Why did we cheat on them?" she asked. "Does that make us bad persons?"

He sighed, he had been thinking about the same. "Maybe we just knew they weren't enough," he said. "So we were trying to fill the void. It's so difficult to settle for anything less once you've had something like what we had."

"What we have," she said.

"That, too. But this is different now, isn't it. We're older and more cynical and scarred. We can't go back to where we were."

"No. And we've got all these broken families not with each other."

"Yes, we do. But you know, as much as I regret not having kids with you I don't regret having my children. They're precious, even if their dad is an idiot."

"You're not an idiot."

"Whatever you say, mistress," he said and kissed her neck again. She chortled.

They were quiet for a while, it was dark and very silent. He held her against him, her slim back and perfect, round hip, his hand against her smooth and soft abdomen. It was so lovely, the warm fuzz on her peachy skin, the small slick scars from her pregnancy. He thought how it must've been when she was pregnant, round and tout. He was sorry he hadn't shared it with her, but all his regrets paled in comparison to the amazing bliss of getting to be near her now.

"You know, Roxie?" he said quietly. "I love you so much I think it'll kill me."

"I love you, too," she said. "Just hold me will ya."

He did.

—#—#—#—#—#—

Fifteen months later

January 2008, New York

"You're so fucking annoying!"

Roxanne's voice was shrill enough to carry all the way from the living room. Brandon startled enough to let slip the braid he was working on and he cussed softly.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I'm afraid I have to start over again."

Tracy looked at him via the mirror and rolled her eyes but in a friendly way.

"Look," Brandon said, "I know I suck at this. You just gotta let me practice. I promise I'll get the hang of this so by the time you've got kids I'll be able to do their hair."

Tracy smiled. She was thirteen and probably couldn't imagine ever having kids. Brandon on the other hand could easily imagine the next ten or fifteen years just whirling by and himself struggling with her kids' hair just as he was doing now. He had done his share of braiding with his own daughter, but Tracy's coarse tightly curly hair was out of his scope of expertise. Brandon knew Tracy could've done it herself much faster and to a better end result, or wait for Roxie to come do it, but he appreciated her for letting him try. He sighed, brushed her hair a little and started again.

Roxanne let out a shout of rage and there was a sound of breaking glass. Brandon and Tracy looked at the door, then at each other via the mirror again.

Roxie was fighting with Fred. They were mostly civilized towards each other, but now they were having a full blown war. Tracy was going to high school, and both Roxie and Fred had applied for a school. Fred had chosen an exclusive private school, Roxie a nice but more down to earth one, and Tracy had been accepted to both. For the last week they'd had row after row on which one she was going to attend.

"Which one would you want to go to?" Brandon asked and continued with the braid. He was proud of himself for not letting it slip this time.

"I don't know," Tracy said. "Don't you have an opinion? Do you even care?"

Brandon looked at her again. Her large brown eyes were looking at him expectantly.

"I care," he said and bowed down to kiss her temple. She giggled.

"But you see, I don't think it's about the school. I think you'll be just fine wherever you go. You're crazy clever and funny and stubborn, just like your mom, and that's gonna get you anywhere you want to go in life."

"Like my mom, huh?"

"Well probably like your dad, as well, I just don't know him well enough to say."

There were more yelling from her parents. Now Fred was raising his voice as well.

"Does that bother you?" Brandon asked and nodded towards the door.

"Well I don't like it when they fight," Tracy said. "They haven't fought like that in a long time. I think mom's been too happy to fight when she's been with you."

"They're just passionate about you," he said. "Try to think of it as love. But I can take you somewhere if you don't want to listen to that."

"Nah, it's okay," Tracy said. "Besides it's gonna take you forever to get my hair done."

Brandon rolled his eyes at her and got back to it. He finished one more braid and was unreasonably pleased with himself once he got it tied, considering it wasn't all that well done.

"So what school will your kids go to?" Tracy asked.

She was one year older than Sandra, so in a year this same discussion was to be had with his ex wife.

"I guess whichever one Shirley wants," he said. "I just don't think it matters that much. They will grow up to be their own persons and I just hope to help them along the way. Your mom and I went to this crappy small town high school nobody's ever heard of and we turned out alright. You either have the passion or you don't, there's not much the school can do. If it's good enough, of course there's some lower limit."

"Yeah but you guys aren't normal," Tracy said.

"Well thank you, missy, didn't know you were in a board to decide on such matters," he said, rolled his eyes at her and started on another braid. She giggled.

Being silent made the sounds of the fight seem louder. Tracy looked distressed. They listened to her parents bicker and Brandon finished another braid.

"Listen, Tracy," he said and put his hands on her shoulders, seeking her eyes in the mirror. "Both of them are really good schools. You're gonna do extremely well in either one. You're gonna be just fine."

Tracy looked at him for a minute, and he felt like he reached her. Then she had to pull back, she was thirteen, after all.

"Is that your dad voice?" she said, smirking. "Because you've never used that with me before."

"It is," he said and smiled. "And it's because I'm not your dad. You've got a perfectly fine dad already. I just thought you needed someone to tell that to you now."

They were silent, and luckily the living room had gone silent as well.

"You know, Brandon?" Tracy said, not looking at him now. "I think you're a good dad."

"I'm the best I can be, Tracy," he said and started on another braid. "It just has to be enough."

—#—#—#—#—#—

Two months later

Easter, March 2008, Nevada

Roxanne sipped her drink and fanned herself with a magazine she was reading. There was a fan nearby, swirling the hot and arid air around under the canopy giving the relative comfort of shade, but it was still hot as hell. She considered retreating into the pleasant air conditioning of the luxury trailer. It was too intriguing to watch Brandon work, anyway, and so she stayed.

Tiffany, Brandon's assistant, had discussed something or other with him and now walked to where Roxie was and sat beside her. They looked as Brandon turned his attention back to the scene in front of her and started to bark orders.

"He's so cute when he tries to be bossy," Roxie said.

Tiffany chortled, then tried to reel it back. Brandon was indeed demanding when it came to his work, and laughing at him would probably be a bad career move.

"Have you been working with him long?" Roxie continued.

"Five years," Tiffany answered.

"Okay. That's a long time to put up with that kind of bossing around," Roxie said.

"Well, it is my job," Tiffany pointed out politely.

"That's true. I could never do that."

"It's not for everyone I guess. And you've got your own assistants, right. But Brandon's not bad as bosses go. He's demanding but he's fair, and he doesn't...you know."

Tiffany blushed.

"He doesn't harass you?" Roxanne said, and Tiffany nodded. "Well he wouldn't, it's bad for business, I suppose."

"Yes, but so many others do it anyway."

Tiffany's cell phone rang and she had a brief conversation, sounding more upset after each pause she spent listening.

"Oh, fuck!" she said when she ended the call.

"What is it?" Roxie asked. She had never heard Tiffany lose her manners before, she was usually all professional efficiency and politeness.

"It was security, from the gate," Tiffany said. "Shirley's coming here. With the kids."

"And she wasn't supposed to?" Roxanne asked.

"No they weren't supposed to be here. I don't know what's up. I'll have to go to the headquarters to sort it out."

What was dubbed "the headquarters" was the only proper building in this shooting location built in the desert. It held offices, a canteen and a few rooms for hanging out and relaxing. The actors, Brandon and all the staff stayed in trailers, but the headquarters was the central point of the location.

Roxanne looked at Brandon, who was animatedly explaining something to one of the main actors, no doubt trying to get her to grasp some aspect of her role he thought she was missing. It would've been good to sit and watch him work, but you don't always get what you want.

"I'll come with you," Roxanne said to Tiffany. "I want to meet them."

They got in a golf cart and started the half a mile dusty ride to the headquarters. The desert was beautiful but insanely hot. Roxie felt the sweat trickling down her neck and wished once again Brandon's next film would be about something that didn't require this kind of aesthetics. She knew Brandon was uncompromising in his artistic vision, and if he wanted desert he got desert and not some desert-like setup inside a nicely air conditioned studio.

Actually she was proud of him. She had always loved his films, the way his vision came through, his depth of feelings and how he got actors to portray it. She had always thought all his films were about himself, regardless of the plot or setup.

"It's gonna mess him up that they're here, isn't it?" she asked Tiffany.

"Probably," Tiffany admitted. "He doesn't appreciate surprises, not like this, and not in the middle of a tight shooting schedule like this."

"You know I've never met them before."

"Well, it's not really my business," said Tiffany in a reserved tone that suggested she was in no hurry to make it her business.

Roxanne stopped by the bathroom when they got to the headquarters. She was sweaty and the braid she had tied her long hair in was disheveled, but there was no time to correct it. She looked herself in the eyes, straightened her posture and took a deep breath. And then she stepped into the chilling lounge number one, where Brandon's ex wife was waiting with their kids.

Shirley was strikingly beautiful. She was taller than Roxanne, and had long legs that seemed to go on for miles before connecting to her perfectly proportioned hips. She had been a model and an actress when she was younger, and two kids later her body was still perfect. Roxanne remembered Brandon telling her he had picked a wife who "looked like you, Roxie," but in all honesty Roxanne had a hard time seeing the resemblance. They both had long brown hair, brown eyes and dimples (not that either one was smiling now, so it was hard to compare), but Shirley was a picture of classic beauty and style, whereas Roxanne was just plain normal compared to her. Or maybe just plain.

Sandra looked like her mother, and quite a lot like Roxie herself had looked at twelve. Leo was ten, and he looked so much like Brandon as a kid Roxie thought he could have served as his stunt double. That if shown old pictures of Brandon and of Leo in similar setups she couldn't have told them apart.

Roxanne felt a stab in her heart. She had often wondered how her and Brandon's kids would've looked like, what they would've been like, and thinking they might be like Sandra and Leo touched a sore spot inside her.

All three eyed her with apprehension, Tiffany all but forgotten now that she was in the room. She flashed a bright fake smile and walked towards them.

"Shirley, hello," she said and went to shake hands with her. "Finally we meet."

Shirley seemed taken aback by her brisk friendliness and didn't reply.

"And Sandra and Leo, right?" Roxanne said, turning towards the kids. "Good to meet you guys. I'm Roxanne, but you can call me Roxie if you want to."

The kids looked from her to their mom and back and muttered some sort of a greeting, clearly too well mannered to be as rude as they had probably planned on being.

"Did you guys travel from afar today?" Roxanne asked. "Can I offer you some refreshments?"

She looked at Shirley. "Sodas or milkshakes for the kids, would that be okay?"

Shirley nodded hesitantly, and Roxanne smiled in what she knew was her most friendly predatory smile. It might look pleasant enough for the kids, but she knew Shirley would pick up the threat behind it.

"Great! Tiff, can you get the kids to the canteen?"

Befuddled Tiffany escorted the kids out. Roxanne walked them to the door, looked at them disappearing down the corridor, closed the door behind them and turned back to Shirley. She had dropped the smile and eyed her with piercing no-nonsense-look now.

"Okay, cut the crap," she said. "Why are you here? To fuck up Brandon's shooting?"

"It's the kids' holiday," Shirley answered. She was clearly on the defensive now and Roxie wanted to keep her there, so she pressed on.

"Yes, I know about the school holidays, I have a daughter you know. And I know your divorce agreement clearly states that Easter holiday is on you. And as you well know, this is not a holiday for Brandon, on the contrary, these are probably the busiest weeks of the whole of this film and require all of his attention for something like eighteen hours a day. And you've done your utmost to keep your kids from meeting me up until now, so let me repeat myself: why are you here?"

Shirley actually blushed. She couldn't face Roxanne's glare anymore, and let her enormous doe eyes wander around the crummy but cozy chill lounge with beat up sofas and a stained pool table.

"Okay," she said finally, grumpily, defensively. "Okay, I admit, I wanted to hit him where it hurts and come and mess with his work. Okay? You've got me figured out."

"Yeah," Roxanne said, a little...disappointed? that the younger woman had folded so easily. "Okay. So now we're clear on your intentions. And you'll get your wish, you know, it's gonna fuck with his concentration when he finds out you're here."

They looked at each other. Now that Shirley was out of balance she looked more human. She had faint lines around her eyes, she wasn't that young anymore. Roxanne wondered how life must feel for someone who had built her career on her looks, was now losing them, and had her marriage in crumbled ruins around her. Suddenly Roxanne felt compassion.

"So, are you gonna stay?" she asked, much more friendly than before. "All of you or just the kids? Have they been to shooting locations much?"

"No they haven't, and that's part of why we came," Shirley replied, responding to her tone and getting more friendly despite herself. "Brandon doesn't want distractions around. And I wanted to dump the kids on him for a few days, but I suppose in the letter of the divorce agreement I'll have to hang around so he doesn't get to use it against me that I don't honor the agreement."