Quickening

This is not the plan, she reminded herself as he rolled on top of her. She tried to lay her legs flat on the bed, together. He worked between her legs, taking either side of her head, his thumbs on her temples, his eyes drinking hers.

"You're the most beautiful woman in the room."

She giggled. "I'm the only woman in the room!"

"Don't cloud the issue with facts." He kissed her quickly, softly. "Let me ask you something."

She felt trapped, but not a prisoner. "Sure. You have my undivided attention."

"You sure you wish to do this?"

No. She could feel his penis against her. She knew, given her position, he could force himself in, but it wouldn't be easy without her cooperation. His lips came to hers again, her legs spread and her knees rose in answer to his question. Without moment on his part, she drew him in. He closed his eyes, burying himself deep within her.

She gulped.

"Sweet," he said, holding his position, pulling away just a little to watch her face. "Tell me about the tattoo."

Watching up at him, she said: "Huh?"

"Birds of Paradise, my guess, looking like a waterfall of color leading from your neck to your yummy what did you call them?"

"Tatas."

"Yes, tatas." He rolled his eyes, taking three long strokes, than pausing deep in her again. "Is it spiritual? Religious?"

She tried to breath, successfully grinding just a little. "Neither. It's kinda embarrassing."

He matched her rhythm playfully, kissing her cheek and then her ear. "Tell me."

She worked her hands down to the small of his back, pulling to match his stroke, working her hips to the motion. "High-school-to-piss-my-parents-off."

He laughed subtlety. "You should at least make up a better story than that. Maybe some lurid tale about a vacation in the islands."

He lifted away from her, reaching between them.

"You're not going to have to do that," she whispered, taking his face in her hands.

His lips found hers again, his hands on her cheeks, their cadence meaningful. The universe took a breath. She lost herself in the sensation, pulling, pulling, pulling. Her body rippled like a flag in the wind, she shivered, she shook, her legs convulsed. She tried to pull away, and couldn't. He buried deep in her and held. She pushed back.

She screamed through her clenched teeth, convulsing again, breaking into a wonderful sweat.

He kissed her cheek, her ear and then her forehead. With her breathing close to normal, he softly kissed at her lips, her kissing back.

"Wow," she said into the kiss. "I'm not a screamer."

He snickered. "Today, you are."

Watching her eyes, he picked up his rhythm, her working back against him. In moments, he withdrew, planting his penis on her stomach, his mouth on hers, moaning softly as semen flowed up to her breasts.

She expected him to push off and run for the bathroom, maybe getting dressed on the way. They made out for a quarter of an hour, him humming sweetly. Finally, he rolled on this back, pulling her to him. They spoke of her children, college, her job, and her sweet breasts for two hours.

12

"You can have the shower first," she offered.

"I want to smell like you when I get home."

She bit her lip. "Oh, that would be fun, but I can't afford it."

Man, she said to herself, watching the image in the steamy mirror. Drying off, she slipped into her bra and panties, returning to the room.

He watched her in the mirror, adjusting his tie. "I love you," he said.

"I can tell," she answered, worming into her jeans. "I love the idea of you."

He narrowed his eyes at the reflection, smiling. "This is it, then, huh?"

"Yes, this is it."

13

The sun peeked over the trees, washing the night away. Sitting on the lawn chair in her backyard, she shivered at the memory of the violation she allowed to her body. From the first IM, she enjoyed the romance, always rationalizing she was doing a favor for Sharon. Somewhere black and white became gray. "Yummy," she said aloud, thinking of his eyes watching hers as he penetrated her, as she pulled him inside her.

She punched numbers on the cell phone, sipping her coffee.

"Do you know what time it is?"

She chuckled. "Not really. Around sunrise."

A moment leaked away. "Oh, so?"

"I'd say he's a womanizer, and a flirt."

"So, he's cheating?"

"No, Sharon. Sorry to disappoint you. He's what we called a pussy winkle back in high school."

"Huh?"

"He gets a girl all worked up, then doesn't deliver. I think he just gets off on the romance, the chase. It only looks like he's hitting everything in town."

"Damn. I was hoping to void the prenup."

Bitch. "Sorry to disappoint."

She no sooner broke the connection, when her husband stumbled out into the yard, dropping on a chair. "Man, what a night."

She shrugged. "How much did you lose?"

"It's not about that!"

"That much, huh?"

He looked to the grass like a scolded puppy.

"I want a divorce."

"What? Where's this coming from? Is there someone else?"

She smiled. Yeah, there's someone else: me. "We can decide who gets what. I don't really need anything." I'm OK.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Move in with your mother?"