The Long Resignation Pt. 03

"I hope you know what you're doing," she teased.

Snip.

Nicole's large breasts leapt forward as the last of her navy blue brassiere landed on the floor. She turned to face him, coyly tucking her hair behind her ears as she did so. Caleb felt powerful for having stripped her in so manly a fashion (as he saw it) but quickly lost his cool exterior at the sight of her breasts, round and bountiful and perfect. He stared at them with vulgar desire.

Until Nicole slapped him in the face.

"Pervert," she chastised, before smiling at his wounded eyes. She held his gaze again as she lowered herself to the floor to lie flat on her back in a soup of saliva and semen and blouse and brassiere strips and linoleum and desire.

She spread her legs open.

Caleb, embarrassed to find that none of this had in any way diminished his arousal, clamored down into the wet mess with her, pressing his body against hers in perfect alignment, staring into her eyes, noting again the faint presence of her tears.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

Doing so crystallized the moment for Nicole.

Caleb plummeted lips first into her mouth, barely catching himself before his teeth might have crushed hers. Their eyes clasped shut and each tasted the lingering flavours of each other's sex on their lips. The recognition of this spurred them onward as they held their kiss while rubbing and writhing across each other's sweaty bodies.

Nicole reached downward, and wiggled her hand between their sandwiched thighs to find him, to grab him, and to draw him inside of her. They groaned, simultaneously as he helped her ambitions with a single, slow, thrusting motion.

Nicole's head lurched back and her eyelids fluttered as though she were lost in dreaming. Quickly she brought her head back upward again to kiss him further, sliding her tongue into his mouth and probing the length of his upper teeth. In response, Caleb extended his tongue as well gently pressing the underside of her tongue as he drew back his hips and thrust forward again.

Nicole drew back and lay her head back to the floor, wanting to simply enjoy the sensation as Caleb thrust back and forth and back and forth, watching her shoulders surge forward with each motion, then ricochet back as he reset for the next thrust.

"Oh God," she cried. "Oh fuck!"

Caleb, never one to speak too much during sex, simply let out a series of pleasured grunts and groans, then quickened his pace, jostling his wife's body like she were sitting on a roller coaster.

"Oh fuck," Nicole cried again. "Oh, yes. Holy shit -- holy shit -- holy shit."

Her entire body convulsed and seized. She felt as though she'd been knocked outside of her body altogether. She could hear herself screaming in ecstatic joy, but the sound was far off, somehow, distant. A wave of warmth and calm submerged her entire consciousness and she went away, away from all the shameful thoughts of the day's events, away from her anxiety for her newly uncertain future. And that was it, really. She was gone.

When at last reality reasserted itself -- she had no idea how long it had been -- Caleb was right where she'd left him, thrusting himself into her, slowly building up a tension of his own. She reached up her right hand to caress his cheek and to marvel in how handsome he was -- he beautiful he looked in this moment, right where they both belonged.

He lurched to a stop and she felt the familiar surging of his penis inside her, filling her, coating her insides. He opened his eyes and smiled. She smiled back, and he collapsed upon her, exhausted and still more than a little confused, but she held him close to her and stroked the back of his head.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Margaflazzle" he muttered, half-consciously.

Nicole's voice found its authority again. "What did you say?" she asked sternly.

"I love you too" he replied, sincerely.

"That's better."

Epilogue -- Who He Was

Garret Shimizu lay in bed for a good three hours before accepting that he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. He spent the next hour pacing the halls of his luxury condominium, drifting endlessly past the spa-style bathroom, then the personal gym he'd had installed, then the two bedrooms reserved for his children on every second weekend of the month.

He draped his limited edition Burberry trench coat over his shoulders and took the elevator to the lobby, then out into the streets, hoping the fresh air would bring to him new vistas of revelation that would make clear the significance and meaning of the day's events. He wandered the sidewalks alone, indifferent to both the alarming peculiarity of being a 4:00am pedestrian and to the potential threats to his person, out alone amidst such darkness.

Miles away, beneath the surface of a worn duvet, beneath the surface of consciousness, Nicole snored contentedly in the arms of her lover, her inner self resting comfortably at the bottom of the pool that lied somewhere beyond her waking existence, warm and inexhaustible.

By the second hour of wandering, Garret Shimizu had just enough self-awareness to reach a small piece of the puzzle that lay before him. In the earliest moments of the dawn, he somehow came to understand that he wasn't going to make sense of it at all, and that the reason behind this failure wasn't because of what he knew or did not know; it was because of who he was.