Making a Deal Ch. 01

For probably the twentieth time, Ed shifted his butt nervously on the too-plush couch and looked around the home he found himself in, absently scratching at his short beard in an old, nervous habit. The tchotchkes and decorations were, he had to admit, pretty cool, though some of it made him shake his head. Mementos of his hosts' native Slovenia, they were as varied as they were exotic, to his eye at least. A large, decorative rug woven with a complex pattern that he was told was completely hand-made; that was impressive. The bowl of wooden eggs with finely-painted floral motifs? Also impressive, and also weird. Overall, everything was just... busy. Complicated. Simple Ed Lawrence, sitting in what felt like an embassy in his mundane jeans and polo shirt, was a stranger in a strange land, that was for sure. Luckily, he had a tour guide.

"See that one? That's an aerial photo of Ljubljana, where Kat and Dom are from. They said you can see their old house in it, but it's a wide view, so you can't exactly make out the details." The voice listing and explaining the various points of interest was so close to bubbling over with excitement that it forced Ed to forget his discomfort and shoot her a grin.

"Wow, are you thinking about a side-gig as curator of the Museum of Novak?" Ed lightly elbowed his wife in the shoulder, and Michelle giggled, her green eyes dancing with giddiness behind those black, fashionable glasses she wore that always, always made Ed think of a naughty librarian, no matter how many times he kicked himself for being immature.

"Sorry, sorry... I just love it here, and I want you to love it too." Michelle kissed him on the cheek fondly, leaning over to press her more-than generous chest into his own shoulder as she did. "But yeah, I guess I have been spending a lot of time with Kat and Dom. Kat especially is fantastic." She paused, as if realizing she needed to say more. "I mean, Dom is great too. I really think you two could be friends."

His wife stayed pressed to him as she talked, and though Ed appreciated the feel of those wonderful breasts against him--no matter that it was for the millionth time in their ten years of marriage and five years of dating before that--he still wished she'd chosen something to wear other than that tight v-neck sweater that dipped so low and exposed so much of those selfsame breasts. Well, it is for me, she said. He glanced down at the skirt that was just short enough to reveal a couple inches of skin at the top of her thigh-high stockings, and couldn't help but give a leer. And she does know what gets me wound up. Hopefully this meal, or whatever, is quick.

Special surprise birthday gift; that was the announcement that Michelle had made that morning, nearly as soon as the couple had woken, and Ed had immediately perked right up. When she told him that they were going to be spending the evening at their neighbors' house, though, his interest had become incredulity. She'd gotten to know the eastern European couple that had moved in six months before, but he never really had. It was an odd choice to celebrate his birthday, and he'd let her know that, but she had just smiled and went right into corporate lawyer mode.

Michelle Lawrence was a master dealmaker, her stellar career was proof of that, and she knew how to negotiate, even if she had taken a step back to become more part-time in the last year. A morning spent slavering all over his cock, then riding him like a cowgirl possessed by the devil was more than enough to get Ed to concede to her plan, mysterious as it was.

Lying in their bed that morning, sweaty and laughing, a post-orgasmic Michelle had planted kiss-after-kiss on her husband's face. "Okay, due diligence time..." Ed laughed, but she ignored him. "I rocked your world... but you made me cum twice..." She's sounded like she was tallying up a bar tab. "...and it's your birthday, and after what you did for mine, I definitely owe you... hmm. Yep. You're ahead."

Ed had kissed her long and hard then, weaving his fingers through her disheveled black hair, trying, futilely, he knew, to bring her back to reality. "Gorgeous, you don't have invento--"

"Oh yes I do, sweetest." She propped herself up to stare at him, those emerald eyes full of affection. "You're a doctor, you give. It's your nature. My nature is to make sure that all parties are fully satisfied." She initiated the kiss this time. "That's why we work." She smiled. "And that's why I've decided that, since there's a definite imbalance, my surprise gift for you tonight will have to do to bring us to parity." She chuckled. "We can reevaluate in the morning."

Back in the present, a side door opened, the one that the home's owners had disappeared into about twenty minutes before. Not exactly the pinnacle of good hosting to leave the guests alone, but Michelle had spent so much time there that it wasn't as awkward as it could have been. Really, Ed was the only stranger in the place. Still, you'd never be able to tell by the radiant smile that the woman emerging from the dining room gave to him as she spied them on the couch, cuddled together lovingly. "Edward, you really can't let your wife go for even a minute, can you?" The only-lightly-accented words had a tinge of familiarity, like they'd known each other for years. Michelle must have really talked him up while getting to know the woman.

Though unexpected, the question was given with such fondness that Ed found himself warming. "Well, Katja, what can I say? I have to make sure this knock-out I married knows that I have at least a mild affection for her." He waggled a brow sarcastically. "Y'know... like a lost puppy."

Michelle smiled hugely, but slapped him playfully on the arm in a show of mock severity. "Did you just basically call me a sexy dog?"

Ed grimaced and threw up his hands. "I plead the fifth, counsellor."

Katja burst out laughing then, and Ed couldn't help but look at her, even though he knew that he had to handle the act with more care than he did the scalpel he used every day. He could admit to himself that one of the reasons he'd been nervous to come here was that he knew he'd be in close proximity to this Slavic woman before him. What was the old stereotype about those eastern European ladies? They were either three-hundred pounds of lard under a babushka... or angels from heaven deigning to mingle with mortals from on high, with no in-between?

Wall, there was no doubt which category Katja Novak fell into. The golden-haired goddess took each step like she was seconds away from giving up the pretense and just dancing her way through the room. She was nearly everything that Michelle wasn't; tanned, tall, and sleek, with perky but modest breasts and a gym-toned ass, rather than middling sized and lushly rounded like his wife. Not that Michelle was overweight in the slightest--her curves were in all the right places--but the other woman looked like a runway model with her high cheekbones, frosty blue eyes, and glamorously coifed blonde hair, not to mention her smokily-sexy accent, even mild as it was.

Yep, being around his immigrant neighbor felt like it should have been a minefield, but Ed was confident in navigating it. As trite as it sounded, no woman really existed for him other than Michelle. His gorgeous bride. His soulmate.

"Misha, Dom has a question about the recipe you insisted on." Ed got a quizzical look on his face at the nickname the woman so casually used. He'd never heard it before. Wow, they really are friends. It was a wonder; Michelle was many things, but gregarious was not one of them. She was so driven, she didn't ever have time for a large circle of friends. Her days, until the recent, forcible easing of her foot on the gas pedal, had largely been filled by work and Ed himself. This new-formed relationship was... nice. He was glad that these two were close. He just hoped that he and the man of the house, Dominik, could get along like Michelle so obviously wanted.

At the statement, Michelle rolled her eyes dramatically. "Thanks, Kat. I swear, I've never met a man so confident, but so meticulous. Even for a professional chef, he goes above and beyond to make sure every single detail is just right."

The criticism was said with a fond smile, so Katja just nodded. "Proper steps lead to perfect outcomes, correct? Nothing to complain about."

Giving Ed a squeeze on the thigh, Michelle got to her feet. "Absolutely true. In any case, it's also the perfect time for you two to get to know each other." Without brooking any protest, she gently took Katja by the upper arms and maneuvered her over to the couch, seating the nonplussed woman a few feet from her husband. "I shouldn't be too long, but you're in good hands." She grinned. "Both of you."

With Michelle exiting like a whirlwind, Ed didn't have a chance to get a word in, and now he was back to shifting awkwardly on the couch, struggling to come up with a single thing to say. Katja, oddly, was in the same boat. The woman seemed so sophisticated and elegant, he'd have assumed that she was a conversational master, but she just sat there for a full minute, nervously playing with the cuff of her form-fitting cream blouse, shooting him an occasional glance, then looking away in a complete one-eighty from what she'd been only seconds before.

Finally, he cleared his throat and gave her a smile. "I'm glad you're friends with Michelle. You and Dominik have been the best neighbors we've had. I'm... uh, looking forward to getting to know your husband. And you, of course. Michelle thinks we can be friends too, and she's smarter than..." He paused at the look on her face. "Sorry, did I say something wrong?"

Katja was staring at the floor as she shook her head. "No, Edward. You are fine." She looked up at him then and, strangely, rubbed his arm with her hand before giving it a deep, lingering squeeze. He didn't say anything--if it seemed overly familiar, well, different customs and whatnot--but he couldn't help but note that she really, really looked like she wanted to do more. Like she was waiting for something, or trying to decide something. After a long moment, she dropped her hand and her eyes both. "Misha told me what you did for her birthday last month."

That was quite the non-sequitur, but Ed rolled with it. "Oh, yeah. That." He smiled. It had taken a month of running around like a chicken with its head cut off, but seeing her teary eyes at the vision of the custom portrait recreating the photo of them taking their vows was worth every minute spent haranguing the hapless artist incessantly. The things that Michelle had done to him that night were... memorable, and she still claimed that she owed him. "I guess I just like doing that kind of thing." He chortled. "Believe me, she's worth it."

Katja's face was stone as she rose to her feet. "Forgive me, Edward, but I must... to the restroom..."

Ed nodded. "Of course." At the woman's hasty exit, he was left fully alone then, and he didn't like it. Weird ass birthday, I gotta say. It took all of two minutes before he decided that he could make better use of the time and rip the band-aid off. Time to meet mysterious Dominik Novak. All right, future best bud, here I come.

Laughing to himself, Ed made his way through the door the two women had used. He crossed the folksy dining room and approached the closed kitchen door, having to admit that he was digging the smells coming from beyond. Whatever recipe she'd found, Michelle was living up to her reputation as being a meticulous researcher, and he knew he was going to love what was on the other side. That little idea lasted right up until he had his palm on the swinging door and heard the long, guttural moan issue from inside.

He knew that moan. He'd been the genesis of that moan more times than he could count, and the fact that he wasn't now made him feel like he'd jumped naked into the Arctic Ocean.

Unconsciously, Ed held his breath as he slowly, silently cracked the door open to see what was waiting for him, telling himself that he was wrong. That it just couldn't be what he thought. Inside, to a backdrop of steaming cookware and scattered foodstuff, Dominik Novak, his masculine attractiveness a succinct counterpoint to Katja's pure femininity, was focused on his task, a look of confident determination painting his handsome, Slavic features.

The task in question moaned again.

"No... not yet..." Michelle had her back up against the shining stainless-steel of the huge refrigerator, actively being pressed there by Dominik's tall frame. The long curve of her breast under that scandalous sweater was obscured by the man's hand, with the fabric taking the shape of the fingers also beneath it that were massaging the flesh he'd been given access to so freely. "It's... oh Jesus... it's not..."

Whatever denial she was trying to make, she wasn't trying all that hard, and Dominik thoroughly ignored it in any case. His lips were on Michelle's neck, trailing kisses across her sensitive skin in a way that she loved, and his free hand was hooked under her one of her thighs, pulling it so that her stocking-clad leg curled around his waist while driving her skirt up above her mouth-watering ass. She ground herself down into him with a groan when he pressed his pelvis forward hard. "Dom... oh fuck..." She bit her lip and looked at him. "Okay, maybe just... just a little..."

Like he was watching a horror movie, Ed saw his wife reach down and unzip Dominik's fly, fishing out his cock in a smoothly-practiced move, and, without preamble, position it while pushing her panties to the side, ready to go. The man took it from there and slid himself in, eliciting a long, satisfied inrush of breath from her as she lowered herself down to meet him, pressing her face to his neck, her black hair contrasting starkly with his blonde, nearly-white mop.

They undulated together for a couple seconds, rutting away with a fevered need, but it was when Michelle looked into her lover's face, lush lips parted for a kiss, that Ed finally threw off his horrified, disbelieving catatonia and kicked the door all the way open with a reverberating crash.

"What. The. Fuck." The even snarl, the measured, deceptively calm words, belied the utter turmoil that was wracking Ed's entire being. Before him, like a bad comedy, Michelle gasped and pushed Dominik away, and he saw the other man's cock slide out of his wife, wet from her juices. It made him want to puke.

Michelle, eyes completely round behind those fashionable glasses, began walking towards her husband, hand outstretched pleadingly, seemingly unaware that her sweater was still stuck on the bra that had been pushed up over one of her bobbing tits. "Ed, oh my god, I'm so sorry. This... this wasn't the plan..."

"There was a fucking plan?" Ed's ragged laugh had more than a little mania to it. "What was it, for me to drop dead and you to cash in on the life insurance?"

In a moment of complete insanity, instead of answering, Michelle decided to shoot her gaze over Ed's shoulder at the dining room beyond, a look of abject despair on her face. "God... where's Kat?"

"Where's Kat? Where's Kat??" Ed backed away from her as she continued to approach, unable to be anywhere near her. "Who the fuck cares?"

"She... we were supposed to be..." Michelle looked lost. Confused. It was maddening.

"Since I don't want to go to prison, I'm leaving." It took every ounce of control to say that. Ed prided himself on being a patient, thoughtful man. He was a fucking surgeon, after all; every moment of nearly every day had to be planned and executed with precision. He knew, with everything in him, that he wanted to snap Dominik Novak's neck, after breaking every bone in his body, but also knew that the man wasn't worth spending years behind bars.

No... the real issue was the creature closing in, the mocking titty still wiggling in his face while she looked at him like she could actually make things right. The real issue was that he was still in this... place. This hell.

Not anymore, fuckers. Ed turned on his heel and made his exit, maneuvering through doors and around furniture as quickly as he could. He was about five feet from completing his escape when Katja reappeared, emerging from a hallway and staring at him with a look of deep, deep regret. Neither said a word though, and Ed burst from the home like a man freed from a torture chamber.

He took one look at his own house then, poking up over the fence dividing the two properties, the place he and his wife had made into their oasis from a world that demanded so much of them, and shook his head once. He fished in his pocket for his keys, made straight for his car in his driveway, cutting across the Novaks' immaculate lawn, and jumped in.

A second before he slammed the door shut, he heard a plaintive wail screeching out from the house he'd fled, Michelle's unmistakable voice pleading for him to come back. His answer was to slam on the gas and peel out of there, undoubtedly disturbing his neighbors. That was okay. After all, at least some of his neighbors had already disturbed him plenty. As Michelle would say; even Steven.

__________

Any other man in Ed's situation would have expected his phone to blow up with texts and voicemails. Pleas of regret and a string of apologies. He knew that none of that would be happening to him. As he sat in the rented room of the first motel he'd come across, he had a clear picture of Michelle, in that very moment, making a plan. Formulating exactly what she'd say and how she'd say it. Writing out a list of her points, a list of what she'd assume were his points, and how she'd make the two meet in the middle. It was what she did.

That was why, when his phone rang, he just stared at it in surprise. When he saw that it was an unknown number, well, he couldn't resist. Curiosity may kill the cat, but satisfaction brings it back, he told himself.

Wrong cat, it turned out.

"Edward?" The smoky voice on the other end was spider silk, ready to crumble at a breath. "I am so sorry." He could hear Katja choke down a sob. "This is my fault. Could you--"

Ed hung up.

__________

He didn't go back home for three days. Call it petty, call it obstinate, call it necessary to regain a bit of his agency... but he vowed not to budge until his wife did first, and he stuck to it. Three days, that's what it took for her to grow concerned enough that she finally reached out. First by text; assuring him that she knew she was the one in the wrong, and that she could make it right once they were face-to-face. When he didn't answer, she called. He didn't answer then either, but he told himself that he could work with it. It was a gesture. Forgiveness was the furthest thing from his mind, but the act was enough for his ego to allow him to face her. To step back in to that phantasmagoria and see what his life was going to look like going forward. One way or another, he had to get on with it.

He just wished he could stop torturing himself with memories of how happy they had been before the woman he loved got her personality flipped by a Martian "fuck you" death ray. His jaw quivered as he pulled into his driveway, and he sat there, staring long and hard at his fancy blue front door. Shit. Today's definitely going to be one for the books.

Michelle was waiting for him on their sofa, dressed in a thick bathrobe, a small, hopeful smile and a look of infinite gratitude on her face as she watched him stare her down. He didn't know if she'd accurately guessed when he'd come home, or had rushed to meet him when she heard his car pull in, but she looked ready. Nervous, to be sure, but prepared. She got to her feet when he didn't take any further steps in and held out her arms. "Sweetest, I am so glad to see you." When Ed did nothing, she nodded like she expected it, and even gave him a cheeky, playful grin. "Believe it or not... it's not what you think."