Wife and Ex-Wife Ch. 02

He rolled off of her and collapsed on the other side of the bed. She could do little but stare, unseeing, at the ceiling. Moments later both of them drifted insensibly off to sleep.

The next morning, Nina was the first to wake. She turned at once to Patrick, if only to make sure that he hadn't fled away in the night. Why she should fear such a thing was beyond her understanding, but there it was. I've been abandoned by too many men in my life—beginning with my father and going on through my cheating husband. I don't think I could carry on if it happened again.

But of course he was there. Her intense stare somehow seemed to enter into his consciousness, and his eyes popped open. He looked at her tranquilly but said nothing.

"Hi," was all she could think of saying.

"Hi," he said. "How are you feeling?"

She realized the question was not just rhetorical. "A bit tired . . . and sore."

He smiled fractionally at that. "I'm sorry if I overdid it."

"It's okay." Better that than the alternative.

He wasted no time in taking her in his arms, and she was happy to rest there for a moment. But when, to her astonishment, she sensed some movement in his groin, she looked up at him and said, "Um, maybe I can make some breakfast for us. I'm pretty hungry."

"All right," he said with a faint wisp of disappointment. "I can help."

"No, I can do it."

She got up stiffly out of the bed, threw a nightgown over her, and stumbled out of the room. She hoped he wouldn't repeat his "I hate clothes" act and would put on the robe she had given him earlier. After quickly washing her face and brushing her teeth, she went to the kitchen and began whipping up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast.

Presently Patrick did walk in, thankfully wearing the robe. He asked formulaically, "Can I do anything?" But it was clear that Nina had things under control, and her blithe "No, I'm fine" was unnecessary. Patrick did take the initiative to brew a pot of coffee in the coffeemaker.

They enjoyed the hearty meal, again saying little but fully appreciating each other's mere presence. As the meal was coming to an end, Nina said with a bit of a quaver in her voice:

"What would you like to do today?"

"I was hoping to spend it with you," he said.

Nina felt a wave of relief wash over her. Thank you for saying that! "That would be wonderful!"

He turned his head to one side. "But I do have a favor to ask of you."

"What?"

"Could I trouble you to go to my apartment and pick up some clean clothes for me?"

Nina smiled broadly. She could have been offended by the request: What do you think I am, your maid? But the politeness of the inquiry, and its obvious warmth and sincerity, made her think: Well, not only is he trusting me to go to his place and not snoop around where I shouldn't, but he's relying on me to pick an outfit for him that will suit him—and me—on this special day.

"Sure!" she said. "I'll just shower quickly and dress. Then you can shower, and by the time you're done I should be back."

Nina almost ran to the bathroom to proceed with her ablutions. As she stepped into the bathroom—and especially as she saw herself in the mirror after she had stripped herself of the robe—she sensed that she could never think of this room in the same way as before. It was here that some of their most intense moments of intimacy—even if it did include "rear entry," which wasn't entirely to her liking—had occurred, and there was no way she could regard this room in the same utilitarian light as she had in the past.

She showered and dressed in almost indecent haste. Patrick, meanwhile, was lounging in the living room and—not entirely to her surprise—had allowed the robe to come undone in the front, in preparation for his own shower. He explained to her how the keys to the building and his own apartment worked, and she left the house at once.

It took her only fifteen minutes to return. When she came through the front door, Patrick was standing in the middle of the living room, nude.

She rolled her eyes. "Patrick, what did I say about traipsing around the house naked?"

He scowled at her in irritation. "I want to wear clean clothes." There was a clear undercurrent to his words: Assuming, as you irrationally insist, that I have to wear clothes at all.

"I understand that," she said, "but I don't want people to see you like that."

"People can't see inside the house if the lights aren't on."

She wasn't going to argue. "Here," she said, "I got some clothes for you." She blushed slightly. "Um, I got two sets. I don't know what your preferences are."

That really wasn't the reason she had brought two full changes of clothing, and he knew it. But he didn't make anything of her equivocation.

He quickly put on underwear, socks, a T-shirt, and slacks. Nina couldn't imagine where his prejudice against clothes came from, for he looked splendid in this simple attire. Actually, I know full well why he doesn't want to wear anything—but there's no need to go into that.

They set about planning what to do on this bright and sunny Sunday. It was so warm that Patrick almost wanted to go back to his place and change into shorts, but he later determined that he couldn't be bothered. After their big breakfast, they didn't need to think about another meal for a while, and so they first strolled through the University of Washington campus—always a welcome haven, especially as most of the students had left for summer vacation—then, after some coffee at a Starbucks, drove to Snoqualmie Falls, along with a glimpse of the lodge that was used in the Twin Peaks television show (only for exterior shots, however). As they returned to the city, Nina did allow Patrick to take her to a nice Japanese restaurant, and then back to her house.

She was delighted that he was willing to watch another "home movie," either from her fairly extensive collection of DVDs or from movies she had taped on her DVR. By now it was about 10 p.m., and as before a bit of nervousness overcame her as she said timidly:

"So . . . what do you want to do now?"

He looked at her tranquilly and with a faint smile. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well," she said blushing, "I was hoping you'd spend the night." That's why I'd brought along that second set of clothes, you silly man.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Shall we, um, retire now? I'm already a bit sleepy."

"Sure."

Nina would have fully understood if Patrick didn't have the energy for more intimacy. After all, he'd already had five climaxes in less than a day! She couldn't recall ever enticing a man to that kind of performance. But, as they drifted upstairs to her bedroom, she was startled to see him calmly undress and become fully naked in a matter of seconds. Well, I didn't bring along any of his nightclothes—assuming he has any. Maybe that's just how he likes to sleep.

But, as Nina undressed—still a little hesitantly under his gaze—and took up her nightgown, she heard him say quietly but sharply: "You won't need that."

Her jaw dropped, and she let the nightgown fall to the floor.

He led her to the bed and began another round—or, as it happened, another two rounds. While making sure that she herself was fully satisfied, he invaded her both front and back; for the latter, all he said (in his grudging acceptance of her stipulation that he ask in advance) was "May I?" He expected her to understand his meaning, and she did.

In the morning, even before she was fully awake, Nina felt Patrick roll on top of her, nuzzling her face and neck while stroking her breasts and bottom with his hands.

"Oh, Patrick, please!" she pleaded. "We both have to go to work!"

"This will be quick," he said, and he entered her.

He pounded her relentlessly and a bit harshly, but his face never lost that unnatural calmness it always seemed to bear. She hardly had the energy to do more than lie spread-eagled on her back, while he pinned her arms to the bed and continued his thrusts. Then, just as he seemed to be reaching his culmination, he pulled abruptly out of her. The suddenness of the act caused Nina to gasp, but what followed was even more surprising. Grasping his cock firmly in his hand, he scooted up her body so that he was squatting on her chest. His face was bright red with exertion.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

She was so struck by his authoritative tone that she obeyed unthinkingly. He shoved his cock into her mouth and then released his hold on it. Instantly, a shower of his emission shot into her mouth and down her throat, forcing her to swallow rapidly lest she be choked. His discharge seemed so copious that it was as if she had stuffed her mouth with a huge serving of whipped cream.

As Patrick reluctantly got off Nina's chest, she rushed from the bed. Looking back in fury at him, she said, "You should have gotten permission for that, too!"

"Why?" he said in bafflement.

"Because I'm not sure I like the taste of come!" Then, almost to herself: "Haven't done that since college."

She dashed into the bathroom, rinsed her mouth out from the tap (also removing a stray trail of come from her cheek), then brushed her teeth. Time was already getting on, and so she stepped right into the bathtub and gave herself a quick shower. Returning to the bedroom, with a towel draped around her, she was utterly unsurprised to find Patrick lounging naked in bed.

"Better get in the shower quick," she said. "We're already going to be late for work."

She hastened to dress as he shuffled his way into the bathroom.

Later, he drifted into the living/dining room as Nina was having a simple breakfast of cereal and coffee. He wordlessly got the same items for himself and sat down next to her. As the meal was coming to an end, she said:

"So . . . what happens now?"

He looked at her blankly. "What happens now is that we go to work."

"No," she said in frustration. "I meant—what happens to us?"

It took Patrick a few seconds to say: "How about if I call you this evening?"

I guess that's good enough for now, Nina thought sourly. "Okay," she said.

They got ready to take their respective cars to their respective offices. But after the tumult—both physical and emotional—of the weekend, she felt that merely saying, "See you later!" was utterly inadequate. And yet, that seemed to be exactly what Patrick had in mind—or, rather, as he ambled his way to his car, he seemed inclined to say nothing at all to her.

She marched up to him and looked him straight in the face. For some reason he seemed surprised that she had made such a move.

How about a little kiss, at least? After all the manhandling of my body that you've done over the past two days?

He was at least responsive enough to do that—and to give her a brotherly hug to boot.

But that wasn't enough for Nina. She remained standing in front of him, not moving out of the way to let him get into his car.

As he looked at her querulously, she blurted out:

"I love you, Patrick."

She had no idea why she'd said that. It seemed exactly the wrong thing to say at this time. But the words were now out there, and they would both have to deal with them.

He stood stock still, his expression as blank as a newly washed chalkboard.

Say it back, Patrick. Please, please, please say it back. Don't leave me hanging.

He had to look away from her before he said tightly, "I love you too."

Then he almost pushed Nina out of his way, got into his car, and drove off.