Hummingbird Ch. 03

"My God," he said. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "So wonderful," he whispered. She cast her eyes down but smiled. He leaned forward again and again they kissed.

There's no rush, Patrick thought. This is such a good feeling.

He brought his other hand up to stroke her face, her neck, her shoulder. Her skin was soft, not softer than Linda's, but different in some way. It didn't matter. He was here, with Maureen, swimming in a pool of emotion and arousal. Her hand was up behind his head, pulling him in to kiss her.

He moved his hand down from her shoulder and rested it on her breast. She shuddered but didn't break the kiss, the hand that was holding his squeezed tighter. He cupped her breast, reveling in how it felt through the fabric. His head was spinning.

"Just a sec," Maureen whispered. She drew back and pulled the camisole over her head, then reached back and unfastened her bra. She put them down next to her and smiled at him. In a daze he lifted his hands to her bare breasts and leaned in for a kiss. "My God," he murmured again.

Her fingers were busy, unbuttoning his shirt, then pushing his arms down and out of the sleeves. The shirt came free and then her arms were around him and her fingers were gripping his back. He stroked the skin of her back gently, feeling her breasts against his chest. Both of them were breathing hard. After some time, she pulled her face back a bit and looked at him. Her hand came up and her fingers stroked his face again.

"Upstairs?" she whispered.

He nodded and they stood up together. She took his hand and led him to the stairs. At the head they turned and went into what was obviously the guest room. They stood in the half-darkness, kissing and holding each other, then lay down on the bed side by side but facing each other. His hands traversed her body, tracing down her arm to her waist and back up to caress her bare torso and find her nipples.

"Do you have a condom?" she whispered.

His hand stopped moving. Shit, he thought.

"It's okay," she said. "I'll get some." She stroked his face again and got out of bed. She left the room and he heard her padding down the hall. A door closed. She was gone for a few minutes, then a toilet flushed and in a moment she was back. She lifted the covers on her side of the bed and slipped under them and, in the brief time that took, he saw that she was naked.

"I don't know what you think you'll accomplish from on top of the covers," she told him. "And with your pants on." She laughed, the first really happy laugh he'd heard from her that evening. He reached out and tapped her nose then stood up and unzipped. In a minute he was sliding naked under the covers on his side. Her body was warm against his and her hand traced a path down his side to his hip bone and then, oh frabjous day, circled his cock and held onto him. His mouth came down onto her shoulder and his hands followed her sides until they found the twin roundnesses of her ass and squeezed.

"You're gorgeous," he breathed. "So gorgeous."

She stopped his talking with her mouth. Her hand on his cock was moving slowly, drawing up and down the shaft. His hips flexed.

"Maybe you should put on your condom," she said.

He got up on his knees, took the packet she handed him. He tore it open and unrolled the condom, then was back lying on her, his body between her legs, his cock seeking and then, dear God, entering her. She cried out and her hands gripped his shoulders.

"Oh," she cried. "Oh!"

Patrick moved inside her and felt the grip of her legs around his back and her hands on his shoulders tighten. She cried out again and, as he sensed her climax, his own arrived, his hips and legs driving him faster and harder. His cock erupted and, moaning her name, he collapsed on top of her.

4.

It was mid-morning when Patrick got home, and Linda was already there. She looked up from her place at the kitchen table.

"Hello," she said. She gave him a smile that definitely leaned into smirk territory. "I guess somebody else had a busy night."

Patrick sank down into a chair across from her. "Hey," he said absently.

"Maureen?" Linda asked.

Patrick looked at her.

"Was it Maureen you spent the night with?" Linda asked him patiently. "Greg thought you might take advantage of both of us being occupied."

Patrick's gaze gained some focus. "I... have to tell you something," he said slowly.

Linda frowned. "What?" she asked.

He paused. "I think I'm in love with Maureen," he said.

Linda stared at him. "You're confusing sex with love," she told him flatly. "You had a great night with a new lover. That doesn't translate into love."

He shook his head. "I'm really sorry," he said, meaning it. "It's not what I expected to happen."

"You're freaking insane!" Linda burst out. "You... you don't even fucking know her! How can you be in love with her?"

"I know all that," Patrick agreed. "But I still am."

Linda closed her eyes and opened them again. "Okay," she said. "You're in love with her. Is she in love with you?"

Patrick shrugged. "i hope so?" he said, and there was definitely a question mark at the end of his sentence.

"Well, did you tell her?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "I told her."

"When did you tell her?"

"This morning," he said. "About half an hour ago."

"And what did she say?"

"She said 'Oh Patrick'."

"What did you say then? Didn't you..."

"Greg got home then," Patrick said. "And I left."

Linda's phone buzzed. She picked it up, looked at the screen and answered it.

"Hey," she said. "Yeah. I gathered." A pause. "I know. Right. Right. Okay." She listened a bit more. "What? You're kidding!" Her eyes slid over to Patrick. "That's crazy. Yeah, okay." She put the phone down on the table.

"That," she said. "Was Greg." She eyed Patrick narrowly. "Apparently you made quite a hit with Maureen. She told Greg she wants a divorce."

Patrick stared at her. "Really?"

"Patrick," Linda said. "Why are you doing this?" Her hand came up to her face and Patrick realized she was crying. "Is it because of... well, all the weird shit you made me do?"

Patrick swallowed hard. "No, no," he said. "It's..."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," he said helplessly. "It's like something suddenly... exploded in me."

"Patrick, listen to yourself! You have a crush on Maureen and then you sleep together and now you're in love with her? I thought you loved me! You said you did! Repeatedly!"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"Tell me," she demanded. "Tell me what's complicated."

He looked away. "I guess I felt, feel, like we've drifted apart."

"What I said," Linda retorted. "You're angry because I'm doing what you wanted me to do!"

"You wanted to do it, too!" he said.

"Patrick," she wailed. "This is so fucking unfair! You push me into doing things that I would never have done except for you telling me to, now you're throwing them in my face!"

"You wanted to do them! You told me you did!"

"Yes, but I wouldn't have done them! Can't you see that? Being a grown-up means not doing something just because you want to. It means thinking about the other people too. Even if I was thinking, 'hey he's a cute guy, I wonder what he'd be like in bed', if you hadn't pushed me on it, it would just have been one of those thoughts that flit through your brain, maybe give you a little bit of a buzz, then you move on. You don't fucking act on every impulse."

"Yeah," he said softly.

"But with you pushing me to go and fuck these other guys, Jesus, it was hard to say 'no, I'd rather not, thanks'. Although in retrospect that's exactly what I should have said. It's always been sick, I knew it was sick, and I also knew you were going to turn around and throw it all in my face, and call me a slut!"

"I never called you a slut," he said.

"No," she said. "Not in so many words." She paused. "Maureen told Greg that she never bought into his open marriage thing, never actually slept with anyone else, just pretended to."

"Yeah," Patrick said.

"She told you that? Last night?"

He nodded. She stared at him.

"You see what I have to compete with?" she said softly. "She isn't a slut. She keeps her legs virtuously together even when her husband begs her not to. It's only when Patrick comes along and sees how perfect she is that she gives in and fucks him." Linda shook her head. "Tell me, how did that come up in conversation? Her not actually going on dates?"

Patrick shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "We were just, you know, talking."

"Let me guess," Linda said. "Talking about how it sucks to have a spouse who likes to fuck around?"

Patrick swallowed. "Yeah," he admitted. "Something like that."

"Is that something you brought up or did she?"

"She did," Patrick said. "I would never have..."

"Out of curiosity," Linda said. "How did you end up together in the first place?"

"She came over."

"Did you call her?"

"Call her? No, she just showed up." He paused. "I think she was lonely, she said she wanted to talk."

"Talk?"

"Yeah."

"And out of eight billion people on the planet she chose you to have her heart to heart with?"

Patrick frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm not getting at anything," Linda said loftily. "I'm just admiring how well Maureen played her cards."

Patrick shook his head. "You're all wrong," he said. "She wasn't out to, well, seduce me."

"No?"

"No! In fact..." He paused.

"In fact what?"

"When I tried to... to kiss her. She got up and left."

"Ah," Linda said. "Well played, Maureen."

"You're being really unkind!" Patrick insisted. "She didn't come on to me, she wasn't dressed sexy, she..."

"How was she dressed?"

Patrick hesitated. "I don't know," he said. "Some kind of green top," he said. "I think it's what you call a camisole. And a long skirt with flowers on it."

"I see," Linda said. She smiled. "It wasn't an actual nun's habit, so it wasn't sexy."

Patrick just looked at her.

"Then what happened? She waited a few hours and called you?"

Patrick nodded slowly.

"Said she'd changed her mind? You should come right over and fuck her before she changes her mind again?"

"Linda," Patrick began.

"I'm not finding fault with her," Linda said. "I think she handled it really well. Admirably." She shook her head. "Men are so simple," she said sadly. "So simple."

Patrick stared at her. "Maybe," he said. "She did all that the way you said. As a plan. But maybe it was because she... well, likes me." He paused. "Loves me," he added.

"So what?" Linda retorted hotly. "She loves you or whatever. I fucking love you too, though I sure don't know why right now. And you don't have any idea what she's thinking. Maybe she loves you. Or maybe she was pissed at me for fucking her husband and wanted revenge. Maybe she was mad at Greg and finally wanted revenge. Who the fuck knows?"

She pushed back her chair and got up. Her face was stained with tears.

"Tell me when you've figured it out," she said. "I need a break."

Then she was gone and Patrick was alone in the kitchen.

He sat there for a time, trying not to think. He wondered idly what the procedure was to become a monk. There was probably some kind of religious requirement and anyway, even with his life bubbling down the toilet, he didn't think he'd like the monk lifestyle. In fact, he was pretty sure he wouldn't.

His phone buzzed. A call from Maureen. He hesitated then answered it.

"Patrick?" Her voice was breathless.

"Hi," he said.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately.

"Wrong?" Shit. "Nothing, nothing's wrong."

"Something is," she insisted. "What's happened?"

Patrick didn't answer.

"It's Linda, isn't it?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"She's been... talking to you. Oh Patrick."

"What?"

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

Patrick licked his lips. "About being in love with you?" he asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Maureen," he said. "Listen..." He could hear her starting to cry. "Oh Maureen," he said. "Don't..."

"You're going back to her," she said. "Why? She treats you like dirt! You deserve better than her."

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice cracked. "Maureen? I'm really sorry." But the line was dead, she'd hung up on him.

He got up and pushed his chair back. He went up the stairs to the bedroom. Linda was lying on her side. He went over to her side of the bed and knelt in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She looked at him but didn't say anything.

"I love you," he said. "Only you." He paused. "I want another chance."

She closed her eyes, then opened them. "What does that mean?" she asked. She sounded hoarse, probably from crying.

"It means... no more games," he said. "Just... you and me."

She reached out and touched his cheek. "Really?" she asked.

"Is that okay?" he asked. "I mean I know you've said..."

"That's what I want," she said. She smiled at him.

He leaned forward and kissed her. "I was wrong," he whispered. "All those things I asked you to do. I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Thank you," she said.

"That room next door," he began.

"We'll buy a blanket for it. We'll have a guest room." She smiled. "We can throw away the tethers."

He paused. "Do we have to? Throw them away?"

Her face froze. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Oh, just we could have fun with them." He was talking fast now. "Just you and me."

She smiled again and leaned off the bed to kiss him. "You're still a weirdo," she told him. "But sure." She kissed him again. "That sounds like fun."