6 comments/ 10038 views/ 13 favorites The Harpy By: sharkandpen "Lift and squeeze. Lift and tuck. Lift and squeeze. Squeeze hold." Darcy moved in and out among her 4:15 pm class, the most sparsely attended of all the days' classes, adjusting positions of already-thin women to make sure they were working the right areas, banishing fat that lived only in their broken minds. There were only five of them in the class, if she was going to stay in business there had to be far more. The problem was this town was unwilling to forgive her. She had married their golden boy, and worse, she had stayed on when he left her, some pathetic hanger-on who should have known better. Should have known that as soon as the divorce was final, she should have slinked out with her gold-digging tail between her legs, back to the city, to free the women of their memory of her. The memory that their shining star had chosen someone else. She had broken all the rules by staying, but she was comfortable here, had gotten too comfortable here, hadn't she? It was why he left her in the first place. This was a town where first marriages stuck. Where, against all odds, people stayed together. People remained loyal to their spouses. Remained desired by their spouses. They just didn't know what to do with her. They might have pitied her if she hadn't been such a bitch. The truth was, she wasn't a bitch. She liked people. Liked watching them, wondering about them, learning about them. Like knowing, or at least knowing of, so many of the people she crossed in the small downtown area. It was not a true small-town, they were too close to a Metroplex for that, but they weren't close enough to really be considered a suburb. Still, many of them, including her ex, were commuters. Many of them were wealthy enough to support stay-at-home spouses, many of them were telecommuters. It should have been the perfect place to set up a barre studio. Business should have been booming. Darcy was just breaking even, but only because the divorce settlement had been generous enough that she was able to buy the building outright, in cash, and she wasn't paying rent. And it was only since she had added a morning yoga class to appeal to the area's hippies that the studio did not look like a dead zone. She disliked yoga, resented it, now. It was the passion of her youth but she had outgrown the faux-spiritualism that often accompanied the practice, hated pretending to find her intention. Her body did not understand intention. Anymore, all her body understood was pain. It understood sweat and trembling muscles and relentless aches. The real saving grace for her studio had been her partnership with a popular athletic-wear brand. Business was booming among women who came in reluctantly on days she received new shipments of tight leggings and low-cut tops designed for the show-off's workout. How she hated the brand with it's pretentiousness, hated selling overpriced gear as status symbols to women it seemed to matter a great deal to; women whose clothes were manufactured on the cheap in China, just like everybody else's. And if the brand had a corporate store within 40 miles she had no doubt that's where her customers would be shopping. She knew, of course, that she should have moved, back to California where she met Derek in the first place, she teaching yoga and taking on massive student loans to get a business degree she was only now, years later, actually using; he on a baseball scholarship with no need for a scholarship. She also knew she never could leave, that despite being almost universally ignored here as trash someone forgot to take out, that these rolling hills were home. And she had some friends, managed to even keep a couple friends she'd met through Derek, Julie and Devon (wives of friends), though he took the rest with him. There was plenty of room, but no place in this town for dual loyalties. Especially when Derek was back on the market. "Ten more seconds," She promised the ladies around her. Class was almost over. There was a 5:30 class that would have next to no one in attendance (yesterday she had one student), despite the rave reviews and her ability to keep those customers that had deigned to try a class with Derek's harpy ex-wife, which was, from what she heard, how many people referred to her. As an introvert, she understood it, how she could have been considered unfriendly all those years. She was not the first reserved person to be misunderstood, and she would not be the last. She had managed to avoid Derek fairly well, seeing him still bothered her. She had, she thought, been a good wife. A devoted wife. A loving wife. Her divorce had torn her apart just as much as the year before her divorce, when Derek was frustrated and short-tempered, had torn her apart. She had thought they could make it through, that whatever frustrations he had with her would pass, that if she just kept her head down, adjusted what she could and fought back a little less that things would calm down. She had been broken after the divorce, had bought a small single-story house and, strangely, found herself in the possession of some chickens on a whim one day, which only added to her mystery to the locals. Derek's harpy ex-wife-the one with the chickens. She was an anomaly in a town of successful people with ten-year plans that did not include divorce or farm animals. "And release. All done, ladies, thank you for coming. Please remember this month's promo is a free class. Buy 5 classes get 1 free, buy 10 get 2 free and so on..." They weren't listening. Hearing the word release they had all collapsed on the floor, a few of them groaning dramatically. It was just as well, her 4:15 class were her devotees, and primarily bought the monthly unlimited plan. Everyone could have paid the $175 for the monthly unlimited plans and never noticed the money drain. They could also buy $100 leggings without blinking an eye. Shelly, a doctor married to a doctor and mother of three who putzed around town in a Porsche SUV said, "Ouch. That was worse than usual. You in a bad mood today?" This got a few laughs from Shelly's ass-kissers and staff members' at the OB clinic where Shelly worked with her father, also an OB. Darcy smiled, "Spring has sprung, have to get a head start on bikini body season. " How to get a bikini body: put a bikini on your body, the feminist in her chanted. She shushed her internal monologue. There was no place for feminism when you were trying to make a living off of body-dismorphoic disorders. Which is not to say Darcy didn't believe in what she did- she had stopped doing yoga early on in her marriage (no studios close to her new almost-rural home) and her fitness level had dropped. She had gained some weight during that time, only taking up running and barre after the divorce, coming on two years ago. No, she recognized what she was doing as a positive, her own exercise schedule had allowed for a significant decrease in her anti-depressant dosages, but she also recognized some of her 7-day-a-weekers could have probably been okay on 4 days a week. "Does Derek take the 5:30 class?" another student, this one a paralegal rumored to be sleeping with her attorney boss and gaining no small amount of material goods out of the deal, asked casually. This one-Vicki- had gone to high school with Derek, had, if Derek could be believed, jerked him off under the desk in their 9th grade science class. Darcy felt a familiar sharp pain at the sound of Derek's name being spoken aloud, she tried to keep her face neutral, "No, why?" She doubted this to be true. While he kept their martial home, she assumed simply because he didn't want her to have it, he also owned a condo in the city and typically only came back to town for weekends. She had heard rumors of him helping coach his brother's kids' baseball team, but knowing his devotion to long hours at the office doubted this story just as much as she doubted the contention that Vicki actually had a fee scale for the sexual favors she provided. "Because he's in the lobby." And he was. He was absolutely in the lobby. But it wasn't just him, the lobby was full of women in skin-tight workout gear standing around Derek, who was obviously in the middle of a story. Her heart seemed to jump enough to collide with her ribs, certainly her pulse raced, her body tensed. She recognized a fight or flight response, and she was definitely leaning toward flight though she recognized the ridiculousness of it. "Oh." Her voice sounded small. They should have all been setting up in the classroom next door, but she didn't recognize any regulars so of course they didn't know to. Friday nights were notoriously slow, even with the shoppers, and it didn't make sense to keep a receptionist at the front desk after 4:30. As she stepped out into the lobby the cooler air hit her. Normally it was a relief, but today it just reminded her that she was one of the scantily clad women. She herself was wearing the brand she hated, her cropped leggings were white, of all things, with black stripes (an older pattern from her yoga days) and she wore a tight spaghetti-strapped low-cut tank top with not much support, though she didn't require much support. During her marriage she didn't require support for small-B cups, today she could have used a little more support to keep her full-Cs in place but she recognized her body, svelte from working out multiple times a day, was aspirational. She knew how to sell classes when she could actually get people in the door, and she knew how to sell clothes. Sex sold it all. Her impants had been the talk of the town, but after the divorce she went on a bit of a treat-herself binge and it had been one of the more reasonable decisions she made, when you consider the chickens. She recognized the story as a baseball story, and she saw that he was in shorts and a sweat-wicking t-shirt. He was clearly intending to work out, though whether he intended to take class was unclear to her. She moved behind the desk and some of the crowd followed her, asking about how to sign up if they want to take the 5:30 class. There had to be twenty women in the room, all of them attuned to Derek, even the ones who were playing it cool and had migrated over to Darcy. "Hi Derek," she heard Vicki say, and it was said in a way that made Darcy think there might be something to the hand-job story after all. Vicki was a beautiful woman, though she was beautiful in a way that Derek often implied was slightly dirty, the very-sexual way that people like Megan Fox and Kat Von D could be considered beautiful. "What brings you to the barre? Come here often?" If Darcy were feeling dramatic she might have thrown up in her mouth at that one. "I'm here to get a workout. I hear it's a doozey and I could use a little core strength." Darcy tried not to show any reaction, though she could feel the heavily-made up eyes flitting her way. She could not hold the make-up against them, as she had on a full face of make-up. She had started wearing it daily after the divorce, straining for some glamour in a ruined life, and now she suddenly felt silly, fake and shallow. She did not doubt that he was here to humiliate her, to remind her he was still in control, that this was still his town. And Vicki? It was easy to hate her, mostly because there was no way Vicki had remembered to wipe down her mat and put away her equipment (two sets of weights, a ball, a stretching band, there is no way she had time- she had clearly rushed out of the room to make sure she didn't miss speaking with Derek. Darcy handed out paperwork to the customers that were lining up, trying not to feel giddy as woman after woman ignored her monthly promo and committed to packages. Monthly unlimited, three and six month commitments. One paid a year up-front, this would not solve all her issues, but if these women brought their friends... she was practically giddy. Was it only this week after book club when she had cried to Julie about being a failure, about putting her all into this business and knowing she would be so much more successful if she had just chosen a different town. Any town. That maybe she would be able to pay herself a salary, could pay other teachers, if people would just walk into the classroom and try it. But of course-she'd told Julie. Of course Derek was here, she had obviously told her husband, word had obviously traveled to Derek. He'd come to witness her fail again, this time on her own, without him. Why? To prove their failed marriage was her fault, all over again? Derek made his way over to the desk. "Is there a friends and family discount?" he asked, smiling, charming, delightful Derek. "We're not family," she reminded him. She had to work not to be baited, as hard as she worked not to be baited every month of that last year, their third together as a married couple. "Friends, then," he said. They had an audience and he knew it. "I do have a promotion going- buy 5 classes get one free. That's a deal." She wanted to save face, but she hated to encourage him to come back. She was having trouble seeing him once, could not imagine going through it six times. "But since you haven't tried it, maybe you just want to buy one class?" After a moment of silence, of searching her face, he nodded. "Okay, put me down for one, then." And of course, she was disappointed, because- why wouldn't she be? Ignoring the paperwork he had filled out she entered his information into the computer, plugging in her old address from memory, picturing the tall ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows looking out at a view of the lake. Women wandered into the classroom to get set up as the last of her 4:15ers wandered out, unable to delay any longer without being obvious. They were alone in the lobby. "You look good." His eyes lingered on her breasts, so prominently on display, and the first inklings of heat teased her body, a tickle in her arms, a blush in her cheeks. "I have to get into the classroom," she said. "And you should get set up." Not waiting for an answer, she walked away. Luckily one of her regulars, a fifty-something woman named Suzanne, who had only recently moved to the area, was in class and had provided instructions to the new arrivals. The room had never been so crowded, and it occurred to her now that they were probably at least three people over a good class-size. They were not quite packed in like sardines but it was close. It was hard not to be aware of Derek, as he took up quite a bit of the room's space, and was the focus of so much of the room's attention. Everyone who was not sneaking direct peeks at him laying out his mat on the bamboo flooring was peeking at him via the mirrored walls. Everyone, save for Suzanne, struggled through the warm-up and the initial weight-workout, though Derek struggled the most. The women, at least, had exposure to choreographed group-exercises at the big box-gym in town. It was only when they came down to the mat for tricep dips, push-ups and planks that Derek seemed to find his footing. Even now, class typically made Darcy sweaty, but the added nerves of a new audience made her feel like she'd sprung a leak. When a particularly suggestive P!nk song came on, she regretted forgetting to navigate away from her more risque (and explicit) Friday music playlist. Once thighs started, she had to focus on helping adjust postures in addition to demonstrating, and she could feel all eyes in the room on her. As a result, she felt underdressed and overexposed. Everyone's position was terrible, and she had to walk around making adjustments. Derek was closest, so she got him out of the way first. "Tuck," she instructed, putting a hand on his lower back. "That doesn't mean anything to me. Tuck what?" "Heavy hips, tailbone down." Everyone was having the same difficulties that Derek was so she kept her microphone on, let them hear her corrections. "What?" he didn't need a microphone. He was practically yelling to be heard over P!nk. There were giggles around the room. "Squeeze your butt cheeks together and thrust your hips forward. If you had a tail it'd be pointing down at the ground right now." She pushed on his lower back, unwilling to send her hand to his butt, which is precisely where she usually put it when pushing a student into a tuck. She looked around the room, watching as the women adjusted. She was not the only one with breast enhancements, they made up about 50% of the room. Derek got a close approximation of the position and she moved on to those women who hadn't quite gotten it, making adjustments. The rest of the class went in much the same manner, Derek sweaty and frustrated and requiring so many adjustments that Darcy started to suspect he was messing up for the added attention of the females in the room, reminding them he was still there. Exhausted and watching to room stretch through their cool down as she passed around antibacterial wipes for the mats, she was suddenly happy her Fridays weren't busy enough to require a late class. She wanted to go home and have a drink (or two) and a long shower. "That was such a good workout," women gushed to her as they exited the studio, smiling warm smiles and gathering around the desk to grab copies of the schedule. She suddenly felt like the popular girl as she answered questions and accepted praise. Derek hung out drinking water from the cooler she'd set up and snacking on the almonds she'd put out. "These are unsalted," he told her, as if she didn't know. "Yes." "That class was pretty hard. I probably shouldn't have gone biking right beforehand." "Yes, I'm sure that's why it was hard." She could feel eyes on her but she just couldn't bring herself to be nice to him no matter who was in their audience. He smiled at her as if they shared some kind of secret, and still she didn't know what had happened today, why he was here, why she suddenly had a multitude of new students crowded into her lobby, chatting amongst themselves and watching her. The awkwardness of their lingering became overwhelming enough that people started to leave, many of them saying, "thanks" to her and "bye Coach" to him, and it occurred to her now that she had probably heard right, he probably was coaching kids' ball, and of course he had an entourage of baseball moms. But none of that really explained why he was here, bothering her. "I should get going, too," Derek said. He gave her a look she couldn't quite make sense of and with him the last of the stragglers left. She locked the door behind them and, knowing how soon morning yoga would come, set about mopping the studio floors and finishing getting all of her new clients into the computer. It was work she should've left for Janelle, her receptionist, but she was not quite ready to leave the studio, because today, finally, it promised the hint of success. The roads were quiet on her drive home and gave her mind a chance to wander. She still wasn't entirely sure what had happened, but it was clear that Derek had done something. She resolved to check out his latest activities on Facebook (she had not unfriended or blocked him during the divorce, choosing instead to pretend it hadn't occurred to her to worry about it, and instead has simply hid his posts from her feed. She'd done it so she would never see him on accident, so she might avoid the pang of pain that, to this day, still sometimes hit her when she heard his name or saw his car (technically her car, she'd taken his truck when he wouldn't give her the dog) parked in town. She showered and grabbed a bottle of stout before she sat down at her computer, navigating to first her newsfeed and then, heart racing, to Derek's feed. And there is was, her explanation, in a post from 2pm, "Trying a new workout today, going to work out with Darcy at Barre Boutique at the 5:30 class tonight- who's coming?" The post had 38 likes, mostly women, and about 15 comments, many from women she'd seen at class, lot of "see you there!" and "me too!", responses that suggested they had been planning to go before his post or were regular attendees. The Harpy Moves On Author's note: Darcy's story began with a separate story called, "The Harpy", though this is an independent story and The Harpy need not be ready to understand anything. Comments are always appreciated. ***** It had been what felt like the longest day of Darcy's life, which was funny since on Saturdays as soon as she finished with her 12pm class she cleaned up and closed the studio. Home by 2pm, she decided a nap was in order and collapsed onto her bed, the bed that now held memories of her night with Derek. Last night. She had thought about it all day, and it was pretty clear that it had been a mistake. They were divorced for a reason. Mostly that reason was he had dumped her and demanded a divorce, but even beyond that she had changed in the years since the divorce. She had grown. She had tried to start dating. She had Gotten Over It. Or she thought she had. Based the events of last night, she was starting to doubt she was as over it as she thought. "I think you should go," she'd told him as he stood, wooden spoon in hand, standing over a pan of eggs. "Come on, Darcy, just relax." He was dismissive. Calm down, you're being hysterical. Are you on you period? "Derek, you divorced me. You ripped my heart out you—you took the dog. Last night was a mistake." Ever responsible, he turned off the stove, moved the pan off the warm burner and set down the spoon before he came to her, grasped her forearms in his hands and tried to meet her eyes. She turned her head away, making every effort to blink back tears. "I have to get to work," she told the wall behind his head. "I know this is a lot," he said, giving her arms a reassuring squeeze. "But we can take it slow." That was comical, considering that the last real conversation they had had was at mediation during the divorce, and yesterday he had been inside of her. "Okay, okay," he laughed, as if reading her thoughts. "From now on we can take it slow. Go out to dinner with me tonight." She shook her head, at a loss for words. "No, Derek." It had taken awhile for him to get it, to see that she wasn't going to fall back into his arms again, but he also made it clear that he wouldn't give up. "Not again," he had said. And now here she was on a bed that still smelled like sex, wondering how her heart was going to survive this. She must have drifted off because the sun was low in the sky when she awoke to the chime of her doorbell. Fucking Derek. With her traitor heart racing, she pushed off the covers and made her way to front door. Yanking it open, voice raised and exasperated , she started in on him automatically "I said n—" Darcy stopped short. It wasn't Derek. "Jake! Hello!" she said, trying to sound natural. Her neighbor was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a rope in the other. "Expecting someone else?" Jake asked, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a flirty smile. She could tell he put some effort into cleaning up but it was obvious he'd been outside all day. "No. I mean...no. Not expecting anyone." She let out a breath, her hair had barely slowed. "No? I couldn't help but notice Derek was around this morning. You two kids working things out?" Darcy was surprised by the question, Jake was a friendly neighbor but very rarely approached any subjects that could be considered personal. But he had known what a struggle it had been for her to acclimate to life without Derek. He had witnessed it. Darcy shook her head. "Not at all." Jake smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Well, that's good. I got worried that I missed my window." He was joking. She was almost certain he was joking. While it was true sometimes he said things that seemed rather suggestive, it never seemed intentionally flirty, so she couldn't imagine what his interest was. He didn't seem like the type to get caught up in small town gossip. But two could play at the flirty game. "Well, now, I know the rope must be to tie me up, but Jake, what is the wine for?" His laugh was deep but musical as he handed her the bottle, stepping inside the doorway but taking care to stay on the doormat. "The wine is from my brother's vineyard. The rope is for Lorelei, she snuck out again." "Ah," Darcy said, smiling as she glanced down at the bottle. "I'll walk you back there." Darcy set the bottle of wine down and slipped into a pair of flats before she and Jake started to make their way around the house to the back yard. Sure enough, Lorelei had set up shop by her chicken coop, and Darcy couldn't help but smile at the sight of the goat. She seemed to be especially drawn to the chickens. She briefly considered whether she should get a goat (weren't they a good replacement for a lawn mower) but decided the town might really raise a collective eyebrow on that one. Jake got away with his eccentricities on account of him being an organic farmer, and being deliciously hot probably didn't hurt much, either. There seemed to be no shortage of women at his door, though most of them just left with eggs or vegetables. Darcy made her way over to the pen and kneeled in front of Lorelei, scratching behind the animal's ears. It became immediately clear this was a mistake. "Oh. Oh! No, girl." The goat had her shirt. "Lorelei, no," Jake said, and suddenly he was crouched behind her and Darcy was aware of the warmth of him, the feel of his thighs on either side of her hips, his arms on either side of her shoulders. He was warm and, despite spending most of his time with farm animals, smelled of laundry detergent and soap. Darcy looked down in horror to see that her scoop neck t-shirt had been pulled far enough toward the goat that a swell of breast was visible. A glance down confirmed that, yup, just inside of her shirt her nipple was visible. All Jake had to do was look down to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. Luckily, he seemed too occupied with Lorelei and her shirt to notice. "Come on, let go," he said, cramming his fingers into the goat's mouth, which didn't seem like the best idea but was surprisingly effective. Lorelei released and Jake's hand sprang back, his wrist bumping her chest, the backs of his fingers connecting with skin. Darcy inhaled sharply, felt color rise to her cheeks as warmth flooded first her cheeks, then lower. Her nipples hardened into nubs, and she was sure he must have felt it against the inside of his wrist. He wasn't quick to move, instead reached for her shirt to feel it between his fingers. "Goat spit," he said, indicating the dampness on her shirt. The backs of his fingers brushed the top swell of her breast, though at this point it was hard to be sure it was still unintentional. Goat saliva wasn't the only dampness she found herself dealing with. "I'm sorry." Darcy drew in a breath, a big breath that pushed her chest closer to his hand. Feeling the increased pressure of his fingers, she squeaked. Yes, she squeaked. Jake pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, resting his hands on his knees before standing up and looping the rope around Lorelei's neck. Once it was confirmed Lorelei was willing to follow him Jake excused himself. "I should get her back," he said, his eyes meeting hers before momentarily dropping down to breast level and then back up. He showed no response, but surely he noticed the nipple show happening through her t-shirt. "Sorry again about your shirt." "It happens," Darcy said with a shrug. She tied to be nonchalant when she crossed her arms over her chest, hiding the evidence of her body's reaction to him. His eyes floated down to her breasts for another second before returning to her face. "Hey, if you aren't busy next Saturday night the guys and I are playing at Big Debbie's. You haven't seen us play, yet, have you?" She had heard something about Jake being in a band but she hadn't seen them play. Even if she were in the habit of going out, they played most of their shows in the city. Something in his face, the way his eyes searched hers, made her think that he did want her to go. Which made her want to go. Was there something there? Between them? They had been neighbors for two years with not a ton of interaction, save he had been the one to provide her with the chickens and fruits and vegetables delivered to her door. "I'd love to," Darcy said. *** "I still can't believe this," Julie grinned. "You're in a real-life love triangle!" Darcy winced as she wobbled on a decorative stone in the pathway to Big Debbie's. The heels had been a mistake. Wasn't she tall enough already? But then, she had bought the ridiculously expensive shoes after the divorce, desperate for something, anything, to make her feel beautiful. She had wanted a pair of the red-soled brand for years, but ultimately rarely wore them. The first problem being they weren't exactly everyday shoes, as she had bought a pair in snakeskin dyed in psychedelic colors (not your average pair of pumps). The other problem was they were a five inch heel, which pushed her over six feet and into giant territory. She had dressed in black skinny jeans and a black mock turtleneck sleeveless top to lessen the impact of everything, but she could still feel eyes on her. Not surprising, since she was, once again, the talk of the town. This time it was a mixed blessing, part of the talk was about her barre studio, but the other part were rumors swirling about Derek's new barre habit (which, while it upped attendance in class, was supremely distracting) and the potential that the divorced couple had reconciled. But they were not reconciled. She was not reconciled. They were late, the band had already started, and Big Debbie's was unusually crowded. "Do you get to say, 'I'm with the band'?" Julie teased. "I always wanted to be with the band." "I'm not with the band," Darcy glowered at her. Julie had teased her the whole car ride into Spring Hill's "City Center" (such as it was), but Darcy couldn't be annoyed, she appreciated the distraction. Because was she with the band? Probably not. But maybe? "I'm just supporting my neighbor's musical pursuits." "Well, that's probably for the best, in all honestly. Jake is the band's songwriter, which is not always great for whomever he's seeing at the time." They stepped into the bar and she was confronted with a room full of faces she knew, such is life in a small town, but also with faces she didn't recognize. "Who are these people?" She didn't know everyone in town, but she had never seen many of these people in her life. "They have a big following in surrounding cities," Julie explained. "When they play in town it usually draws a crowd. They're a big deal. I mean, regionally." Most of the crowd was standing, many with eyes glued on the stage as they swayed with the music. It was not the usual atmosphere at Big Debbie's. Kevin Dart was their lead singer, and no small amount of eyes were on him. Darcy's eyes were drawn to Jake, in particular to the way his fingers moved across the strings of his guitar. She started sweating. "Hey Darcy!" Nib, whose real name was Caroline, said. Her tray was balanced on one hand as she reached out to touch Darcy's arm, making sure she had her attention. Darcy was grateful for the friendly reception, even if it was from someone who, as a hair stylist and part-time waitress, was kind of required to be friendly. "Is it just the two of you? There's still a table open over by the stage." She and Julie wandered over closer to the stage and, sure enough, there was a two-seater available. All of the tables were bar height, equipped with stools, so she could have stood comfortably, which seemed to be the preference of the crowd, but her feet were aching so she sat. The band was surprisingly good, the songs (none she had ever heard, they were most certainly not a cover band) played songs with what she could only describe as a muscularity to them, but with a touch of melancholy that, rather being depressing, was intoxicating. Jake was intoxicating, particularly when his voice came in on backup. Darcy did her best not to stare at him the whole night, but she probably failed. Her certainly caught her looking at him a few times. But then, he wouldn't have if he hadn't been looking at her. The thought gave her a thrill, and she felt it again—that stirring of possibility, and of desire. The lick of heat between her legs, the flood of moisture. She was wet. Dammit. But her situation got more dire, because something else happened. Kevin started introducing their next song. "Hey everybody, as you know we like to debut new songs here at home, and tonight is no exception—" as he said this, Kevin was taking off his guitar. Darcy saw Jake's head snap to attention, confusion on his face. Something unplanned was happening. The crowd was clapping, excited, anxious. Someone hooted from the back. "Many of you know Jake is our lyricist, and he's been working on something really special." Kevin glanced at Jake then, who was shaking his head. Kevin smiled jovially. "Now, the rest of the band hasn't learned the music so if you want to hear it—" the clapping got louder, Jake's mouth set in a grim line, "we're going to have to ask Jake for an unplugged performance here while the rest of the band breaks. So—do you want it?" The roar in the room was surprisingly loud. Jake initially seemed angry, but it dissipated quickly. He stood and switched out to an acoustic guitar. The tone of the whole room changed, the firsts chord played set a new tone, one tinged with longing and softness. She found herself being pulled in, the lyrics painting the portrait of a man wanting a woman and it was sung with such earnestness that she wondered if she had gotten it all wrong. This song was about someone he was involved with. She was immediately embarrassed, felt foolish that she had come here tonight thinking that there could be something between them, that he'd felt something last week. But no, he had someone, He was writing songs about someone. The song built in intensity until he got to the chorus, where it softened abruptly. But the chorus? The chorus stopped the train of her thoughts in its tracks. My ex-girl's name upon your lips My fingers brush against your tits Your face, the launch of ships Can't take my eyes off of you She stole a glance at him, and their eyes met. Won't take my eyes off of you It sounded like a promise. After the song Jake joined the band in their break, and Darcy became aware of each move he made from that point on, only half listening to Julie prattle on about her house remodel. He stopped at the bar first, picked up a beer and started making his way in their direction, receiving about a thousand pats on the backs before he reached her. Julie was just getting to the topic of low-flow toilets when she stopped short, noticing his approach. She raised an eyebrow at Darcy. Darcy studiously avoided meeting her gaze as Jake made it to their table. "You made it!" he said, glancing back and forth between them before his eyes settled on Darcy. "I'm really glad." "It's a great show," Darcy said. "You guys are really good. I had no idea." "Yeah, no, those guys are great." "The new one, though," she said, unsure whether she to address the song. Her eyes searched his face for clues. "That last song was—" "Jake!" an excited female voice squealed just before wrapping her arms around him. She was tall, red hair down to her waist with an hourglass shape that was not going unnoticed in the room. "Lorelei." Jake smiled and hugged her back before taking a step back and resting his arm on the back of Darcy's stool. It was an unconscious gesture, she assumed, one that meant nothing. "Lorelei, meet my neighbor, Darcy, and her friend Julie." >i>Meet my neighbor. Great. Darcy spoke without thinking. "You're Lorelei? I wasn't expecting you two to get along." She wanted to snatch the words right back. Lorelei laughed and rolled her eyes, "I take it you've met that fucking goat." She shook her head and looked pointedly at Jake. "You really need to rename her, Jake, I'm serious." Jake shrugged, "I can't make her be someone she's not." He gave her a meaningful look. Lorelei looked unimpressed but dropped the subject. "I'm sorry we're late, you're not done, are you? I didn't miss everything? Traffic coming out here was worse than I expected." "No, no, just on a break. Speaking of which," he glanced at the stage where a couple of the guys already stood. "I better get back up there." Lorelei and Jake dispersed, leaving Darcy alone with Julie's expectant gaze. "Well, well, well." Darcy just shook her head. "I don't know." ** Darcy couldn't sleep. She had been exhausted when she and Julie left the bar, but once home her nerves got the best of her. She had left before the band finished, hadn't had a chance to interact with Jake again, and as a result her mind was going over the possibilities of the night. If she'd gotten the chance to speak with him, what would they have said? Would he have mentioned the song? Mentioned what he was thinking when he wrote it. She glanced across the street again, but his house was still dark. A glance at the grandfather clock in the hallway told her it was nearly 1 am. She should be sleeping. As if on cue she saw headlights in the distance. She watched and made a deal with herself: if this wasn't Jake she would go to bed, go to sleep, let him come to her when or if it suited him. But if it was Jake, she would go to him. She would find something to say. She would feel him out. What did he want? What did she want? Jake's old Land Rover pulled into his driveway. It was him. Fuck. But a deal was a deal. She had a plan (sort of). At least, she had something to follow through on. She set down the glass of wine in the kitchen sink and made her way to her bathroom, swiping on some lip gloss and running a brush through her hair before pulling the oversized T-shirt she liked to sleep in over her head and picked a pair of denim cutoffs and a tank top out of the laundry basket. It was mostly clean. The tank had a built in shelf bra so she went without, though she briefly considered reaching for a black pushup bra that hung off her towel rod. Just a little something extra. Before she could change her mind she slipped into a pair of flip flops and headed across the street. When Jake opened the door a bottle of beer dangled from his hand. Her eyes took him in—the five o'clock (1 am?) shadow, dark against tanned skin, eyes as dark as black coffee, the same slim-fit dark jeans he'd worn to the show. That was the only remaining part of the outfit from the show. He was barefoot and shirtless and Darcy felt her breath hitch at the sight of him. It occurred to her now that, despite seeing him working outside on his property nearly every day, she had never seen him shirtless. Her mouth went dry as her eyes devoured the picture in front of her, the smooth, hairless skin, the washboard abs, the tan skin, and, perhaps most striking of all, one of the most magnificent tattoos she had ever seen. On his shoulder and chest over his heart was a raven, wings back as if about to take off in flight or land, big black wings spread across his shoulder and down his arm, reaching as far as his elbow. Under the raven, coiled on the right side of his torso and disappearing under the waistband of his jeans was a serpent poised and ready to strike. The only color was the gold of both creatures' eyes. "Darcy?" He said her name like it was a question, and like it was a promise. He was impossibly tan, impossibly cut, impossible. How had she not recognized it before? "Jake." Her mouth was bone dry, her knees weak. A flush spread over her body, heated the space between her legs and, as if the heat had been stolen from elsewhere in her body, goosebumps appeared on her arms and legs. The Harpy Moves On Jake gave her a slow, sexy smile. A knowing smile. Had he always been this sexy? Had she just not noticed? She didn't even particularly like tattoos but the effect he was having on her was intoxicating. Music played from inside the house, accompanied the beat of her heart. "What are you doing here, Darcy?" he asked. He wasn't going to make it easy- wasn't going to let her off the hook. He had made the first move when he'd agreed to perform the song, and now it was her move. She could only stare at up at him, wet her lips with her tongue like something out of a cheesy bodice-ripper. The silence stretched out before them, seconds ticking by, but she was struck dumb. She couldn't speak, couldn't move. She was so used to the helpful neighbor, the man offering advice and home repairs without ever being anything more than a friend, that the hunger in his expression took her by surprise. His brow furrowed, impatient, then he seemed to make a decision. He set down his beer, reached for her hand and pulled her into the doorway, positioning her against the door frame. Her skin burned where he touched her, and then she burned between her legs as her body came to life. His hand was on her neck, his thumb stroking her jaw. She searched his face for answers—what was happening to her? Jake dipped his head, brushed her check with his, the stubble creating a delicious sensation where it brushed against her. His breath hot against her ear he said, "You have three seconds to tell me to stop." The thumb stroking her jaw paused, he turned his face away just enough so that they weren't touching, and he waited. Darcy brought her hand up, lightly stroked the raven's wing. Darcy drew in a breath, arched her back until her breasts brushed against his chest and said, "One." His chest shook momentarily in silent laughter and then the door jam was in her back and one of his legs slid between hers, thigh pressing against her pussy and her head fell back as his mouth found the nape of her neck. A gentle suck, a less gentle pinch of teeth, and then his hands joined the party. He pushed down one tanktop strap, exposing a breast to the cool night air, as he buried a hand in the dark waves of her hair. Darcy developed a rhythm with her hips, felt the pressure building beneath the wet heat, and said, "Two." Not satisfied with the level of access he was getting, Jake leaned back long enough to pull her tank top over her head, exposing both naked breasts to anyone who might be watching. Luckily, there were no immediate neighbors, no streetlights, though that probably only made them more visible kissing against the backdrop of his light-up house. He sawed his leg between her thighs as he cupped her breasts in both hands and squeezed, then grasped her nipples and squeezed again. It was not gentle, and she shuddered with the mixture of pleasure and pain, wincing as he rolled the nipples between his thumb and forefinger. "Too much?" his voice was husky with desire. She lifted her head to look at him, saw the heady desire in his eyes, and said, "Three." Jake smiled dangerously and led her inside by the hair. She nearly tripped over the rug but caught herself, which was good since she probably would have lost a handful of hair if she'd fallen. Jake kicked the door closed behind them and released her, pushing her against the entryway table, knocking his beer over in the process. She had just enough time to see it hit the ground in an explosion of foam before seeing the puddle spread across the hardwood floor. He didn't notice, kneeled instead next to her and unbuttoned her shorts, slid them down her legs before positioning himself between them and pressing his open mouth to her mound, further wetting her simple cotton panties. "Is this what you came here for?" he asked, not bothering to take his eyes away from the task at hand. He slid a finger inside her panties and pulled them aside, out of the way. "Did you come here to get your cunt licked?" There was something about the atmosphere that had her body buzzing, the violence of his desire, hiding just under the surface. How had she not seen him before? He pulled the lips of her pussy apart and placed a gentle kiss against her swollen clit. "Yes, oh yes," she said, fingers digging into the wood. "Lick it." "Lick what?" he asked, hot breath against her sex. "Lick my cunt." She hated the word cunt, but here, tonight, it did something to her. Made her feel her body was made for one thing and one thing only. This thing. A thrill went through her as she thought about how close she was to a new lover. A dangerously sexy, secret lover. She was going to come too soon. "You came here for that?" only letting his breath touch her as he stroked the erogenous zone behind her knee with the hand that wasn't holding her pussy lips open. She knew what he wanted. "I came here to get my cunt licked." He licked her, once. Only once. Darcy whimpered and rocked her hips, trying to get closer to his face. "Oh, you want it bad, don't you?" Another lick. "You want it so bad you'll let me kiss that hot cunt before you even let me kiss your lips." Oh God, he was right. She was a slut. "What are you going to do to get what you want, Darcy?" Anything. "Whatever you ask," she whispered, knowing she should be embarrassed by the picture she presented—bare ass on a table just inside the door to his house, legs spread wide, hips rocking wantonly. His eyes clouded, and he chuckled, "Oh, honey. I'm not going to ask anything." He closed his mouth over her clit, exerted delicious suction that sent shivers through her body, then dragged his teeth over her tight little button. "Ughn—" Darcy shattered, her legs shook, her clit throbbed, she came. So fast. So embarrassingly fast. He kept still as she orgasmed, let her ride out the waves of pleasure without any additional touch on his part. She was panting when she came back down. "I'm sorry, I didn't," a shiver shook her, a tiny aftershock after the earthquake, "I didn't want to be done so soon." Jake sunk his tongue inside her pussy, lapped at her juices before standing and kissing her, shoving his tongue in her mouth, coating her lips and tongue with the taste and smell of her pussy. "Oh, Darcy," he said, cupping a breast in his hand and giving her a squeeze. "You're not done at all." Perhaps he noticed she was too weak to walk, perhaps he just wanted to show her he could, but the next thing she new Jake had lifted her into his arms and carried her to the back of the house. He dropped her on a king sized bed before turning on the bedside lamps. She realized that she was mostly naked, still had on her little cotton panties, but Jake was still in jeans. As if reading her thoughts he bent over and hooked his thumbs into her panties, then looked at her expectantly. She lifter her hips and got up on her elbows to watch him slide the underwear down her legs. His pants came down next, and she found out he was a boxer-briefs kind of guy. When the briefs came off, she made another discovery. He was fully aroused, well-endowed and... pierced. Darcy moaned, her legs falling open as if on their own accord. A corner of his mouth curved up in a smirk as her eyes devoured him, as she stared openly at the horizontal rod shot through the head of his penis. "I told you you weren't done. You just opened your legs like a bitch in heat." "I want you so bad," she said, not caring how desperate she sounded. Not caring that the tender man she knew had been replaced with a hungry animal. His dominance was somehow more reverential than cruel. She had never felt so desired. "Come here," he said. It was an order. He had been serious—he wasn't going to ask. Darcy complied. She slid to the edge of the bed, stood and stepped toward him. When she reached him his hand came up, the backs of his fingers stroked her cheek as he said, "On your knees." Darcy reached out and touched her the raven's beak on his chest, slid her hand down his torso and, finally, wrapped around his cock. He groaned and sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Do you want your cock in my mouth?" "Yes." "Do you want me to suck your cock?" "Yes, please. Suck my cock." She pressed her lips against his in a chaste kiss, then whispered, "Make me do it," against his lips. This time he buried both hands in her hair and pushed her down to her knees on the hardwood floor. "Suck it." Darcy opened her mouth, but he did the rest. He held onto her hair to hold her head in place, and when her lips opened he positioned his cock between them. Their eyes met briefly before her eyes wandered back to his cock, wondering what the piercing would feel like in her throat, in her pussy, in her ass. Was it sensitive? She flicked her tongue on each end of the metal until he jerked and groaned, providing her answer. It was sensitive. He tasted so good, salt and musk, and she sucked hard, her instincts to pleasure him taking over. Jake stilled, obviously affected by her mouth, "I'm going to—" She sucked harder, slid her tongue across the slit at the end of his cock and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. She stroked up at down at the base, jerking him off as she sucked. What was she doing? What was she thinking? How were they going to handle seeing each other tomorrow? Every day after tomorrow? Why was he so hot? "Back on the bed," he instructed. He followed her there, ended up on top of her, kissing her, hands everywhere, greedy to touch and feel and stroke. Darcy scratched at his shoulders, wiggled madly to get closer. He bit at her neck, then bit harder, gripped her thighs, positioned her, and got ready to plunge. Jake slid inside her, sheathing himself in one smooth push, until he was buried deep in her tight heat. The barbell sent delicious sensations through her, she shuddered, felt her body clench, it was so good. So fucking good. He surged once more and Darcy cried out, coming hard and crying his name. Jake closed his eyes and pushed through her orgasm, through the convulsions of her pussy as it milked his cock, and he fucked her. He fucked her exactly the way she would have expected a tattooed, pierced man to fuck her. Darcy begged and nearly wept with pleasure as his movements dragged her orgasm out. He pounded her drenched pussy over and over as she begged some more until finally he let go, burying himself deep and spilling his seed before collapsing on top of her. "Jake," she purred, burying her hands in his dark hair, "Oh God, Jake." She could tell he was smiling when she turned her head away from him and let her eyes drift closed. She was asleep in seconds. ** He was barely awake and ready to explode. Jake's eyes drifted open and saw the back of her head, dark waves falling across his hips as she bobbed up and down on his cock, her mouth providing delicious suction. There were worse ways to wake up than with your cock in a beautiful woman's mouth. And he had dreamed about this very mouth. "Oh, that's good," he hissed, letting his hand come to rest on her head, providing gentle encouragement. How many times had he fantasized about such a scenario since she moved in across the street? But he had held off-she had been a mess, a true disaster, and her divorce had been the talk of the town. He'd wanted to fuck her brains out for the past two years but hadn't wanted to complicate her life before she was over the divorce. But once he'd seen Derek leaving her house after an overnight stay, he assumed he had waited too long. But he hadn't. Thank God, he hadn't. "Suck it," he said, applying pressure on her down strokes. It became immediately clear she enjoyed being dominated. She also seemed to enjoy sucking cock. He wasn't going to last much longer. "Darcy, if you don't stop—" She made no move to stop. He offered her one last chance. "Unless you want a mouthful of cum—" She stopped, finally, turned her head and looked up at him with big brown eyes. "I want a mouthful of cum," she said. Her lips were pink and swollen, her desire clear in heavy-lidded eyes. Jake tightened his grip on her hair and pushed her down on his cock, this time holding her head still and instead using his own body to provide the friction. He rocked his hips over and over, fucking her face, showing no mercy. Her moans of pleasure caused a vibration in her throat that brought him closer to coming. When she showed up at his door he had decided to give her a night of pleasure that would make her think twice about sleeping with her ex-husband again, but instead he was thinking twice about wasting time sleeping with anyone other than this broken beauty for the rest of his life. "I take it you want some extra protein? All that working out, you need a little shot of protein to get you through all those fitness classes today?" Darcy moaned again, sending a new vibration around his dick, edging him closer to release. "Maybe you should come by in the morning for your protein shakes? I bet you'd love that, drink a little cum to start your day..." Darcy increased the speed of her bobbing and the suction of her mouth, grunting a little as she started taking him deeper. Jake took note that dirty talk turned her on, decided he could make good use of that knowledge in the future. Outside the bedroom window he heard the goat start to scream. Fucking crazy ass goat. "Don't stop," he ordered, his head falling back into the pillow. "Oh, yeah, oh, don't stop," more screaming from the goat (did Darcy not notice? She hadn't missed a beat.) "Now. Nownownow, oh, please, don't's stop—Lorelei! Oh, fuck, oh yes—" Jake's orgasm started just as Darcy lifted her head to look at him sharply, a stream of cum shot onto her chin and lips, some landing in her hair. He grabbed a fistful of those dark waves and shoved her head down. She gasped a little in surprise which allowed him to slide his cock between her lips. Her mouth closed around him reflexively as he continued to squirt and streams of cum hit the back of her throat. He rode out his orgasm holding her head in place, sated again. It had been a few months since he'd woken up with a woman in his bed, and she had been worth the wait. He glanced down at her, grinning in appreciation, but the smile died on his face. She wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand while giving him the evil-eye. Fuck. She had seemed into being ordered around in the bedroom, had he gone too far? Had he hurt her? "Darcy?" he asked tentatively. "Oh, you remember my name now?" "What?" "You called out your ex's name during a blowjob!" she accused, an expression of righteous indignation in her face. There was nothing like righteous indignation on the face of a woman who'd just taken a mouthful of cum. But what had she said? He'd called her something else? Outside, the goat screamed again, and understanding dawned on her face as he started to laugh. He dragged her up and against his chest, hugging her to him. "Oh, babe. After tonight you don't have to worry about me forgetting anything about you." Darcy laughed and buried her face against his neck, which was a good sign. Jake loved a woman that could laugh at herself. Jake stroked her back and kissed the top of her head. After a moment she relaxed into him, resting her head against his chest as she cuddled up to him. Absentmindedly she traced around the raven on his chest with the tip of her finger. "I like your tattoo," she said then, after a pause, "and I really like your piercing. You're the only organic farmer I know with a tattoo and a piercing in his penis." "How many organic farmers do you know?" He could feel her smile against his chest. "Just you." She drew in a deep breath and let it out with a satisfied hum. Her fingers continued their exploration of his tattoo. "What did you do before you moved here to start your farm?" "I did some contracting work." "What kind of contracting?" "Security." Darcy lifted her head, big brown eyes wide with alarm. "You're a mercenary." She looked scandalized. It was adorable. "I did security consulting. As a contractor." He could tell she wasn't convinced, but she let it drop. The goat wailed again. "I should get ready for work," she said, pushing herself off of him to sit herself up. "I have to take a shower. What does that goat want?" "She's a woman. She likes yelling." He winked at her. "It's a shame you're getting cleaned up. I like seeing my cum in your hair." He liked having his mark on her. Liked claiming her. Darcy's eyes clouded over as her tongue came over to wet her lips. Jake sat up, covering her mouth with his own. She shuddered. "You sure you don't want to stick around for a few minutes, let me return the favor?" For a second she looked conflicted but ultimately shook her head. "I don't think I could possibly come again," she whispered, giving him a peck on the lips before standing and gathering her clothes, slipping into her tank top and cut offs. He reached for his own jeans and pulled them on, not bothering with his boxer briefs for the time being. Jake had to jog the first few steps to catch up with Darcy, who was making her way to his front door with speed and determination. As she reached for the handle he grabbed her hand, swung her around. It wasn't the most awkward morning after he had ever had but he wanted to smooth it a bit, increase his chances of getting inside her again, hopefully soon. "Thank you for coming to the show," he said, planting soft kisses up her neck toward her mouth. "I had a good time." She nodded, gave him a kiss that made him dizzy and pulled away reaching for the doorknob. She turned back to give him a shy smile as she twisted the knob. He noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that her lips were pink and swollen—there was no doubt that she'd been using her mouth. She pulled the door open and turned and nearly walked right into his mother who stood, leash in one hand and other hand raised in a fist as if to knock. Darcy stopped short, startled. "Oh!" His black lab charged inside, nearly knocking over Darcy and pulling his mother inside of the doorway before she was able to let go of the leash. Jake kneeled down to pet the dog, who licked at his face. He had given his mother the dog yesterday, his separation anxiety always seemed worse in the evenings so he liked him to be with people on the nights the band had a gig. Jake chanced a glance at Darcy. She was bright red and looked stricken. His mother had the good sense not to show surprise although, as usual, she couldn't be bothered to hide her disappointment. The Harpy His brother had commented, "hope you can increase some strength in your vagina" and a few people asked for follow up on how the class went. The last comment was Derek's, he said, "Killer workout. Going to be sore tomorrow but not too sore to do it again." His misspelling of "too" irked her, as did the thought of his return. It had been uncomfortable being around him, and being around so many women so tuned into him only made it worse. "Fuck!" Darcy muttered, shutting down the computer and downing the rest of her beer before swinging into the kitchen and grabbing another one on her way to the living room. She turned on the television, found a show full of obnoxious women yelling at each other and sat in the dark, her mind occupied with thoughts of Derek. He must have known the female response that post would generate, must have known that people would see it and want to come, had in fact encouraged their attendance with an open-ended invite. But she didn't know what it meant. She assumed he was trying to help, assumed that Julie had told her husband that Darcy was struggling, assumed that Pete had passed the message on to Derek. And Derek had seized the opportunity to ride in on his white horse. But why? He had certainly never encouraged her to stay in town, and, in fact, offered to buy her a home in California in lieu of a cash settlement. Had done everything he could think of to get her to return to her old life, ignoring, maybe, that she hadn't really built much of a life there; that she no more belonged there than she did here. Darcy might as well have been staring into space for all the attention she was paying to the television show, so when she heard a knock at the door she turned the TV off and walked toward the front door, her steps a little uncoordinated, her head a little fuzzy. She should have eaten dinner before drinking one, though now she wasn't hungry. She opened the door without bothering to worry much who was on the other side, and this was just as well because she couldn't have prepared herself for what she'd meet on the other side, anyway. Derek was freshly showered, hair still damp, wearing a long-sleeve t-shirt advertising some bar in the city and jeans. She didn't know what to say, so she didn't say anything. He didn't speak either, just stepped inside, forcing her to back up to make room for his entry. Once inside he closed and locked the door. "Derek?" She had meant to ask, 'what are you doing here, Derek?' but was forced to make do with the sounds her tongue was capable of producing at the moment, so instead she just said his name like she wasn't quite sure it was him, or perhaps that she didn't remember his name. His eyes searched her face, and he stepped toward her again, but this time she was caught in his gaze and didn't back up. He snaked an arm around her as his mouth found hers, and suddenly she was kissing him like she'd been standing around all day waiting for him to get her started. He dug his fingers into her hips, saying, "tuck" and causing her to laugh against his mouth, hearing his laugh in return, the flirtatious smile on her lips, brought her back to reality. "Derek, what?" She pressed her arms into his chest, pushing against him as he held tighter, stronger, and found her mouth again. He walked her backward, up against the wall. "Darcy," he said, and fought to hold her even as she resisted, tried to escape. His breath was hot against hers. Her whole body was hot and suddenly she felt young again. She hadn't noticed that somehow, somewhere, between the fizzling marriage and the divorce she had started to feel old. Dammit, he can kiss. Derek had always been an excellent kisser, been able to bring her body to life immediately. She had never not wanted him, still didn't. It hurt to admit being in such a position. She had always been told to never be the one who needed more, loved more, but she could never quite love Derek less. Or he couldn't love her more. Either way she was always in a position of weakness, always on the defensive. She'd had everything to lose. And then she'd lost everything. His hands were roaming, prodding, squeezing. They were everywhere all at once and it was both too much and not nearly enough. His chest was hard against hers as his hand slid inside her pants. She'd put on yoga pants and a camisole after her shower, and she was grateful that the pants, tight against her flesh, slowed him down and granted her a few seconds to think. And she thought, Why shouldn't she? What was so wrong with fucking him again, as long as she knew it wasn't going to go anywhere? They were two consenting adults, weren't they? His fingers found her, slick and hot and ready, and he cursed against her mouth as he worked at her clit with his fingertips. "Why are these pants so tight?" Darcy let her head fall back against the wall, not bothering to answer him (more likely, unable to answer him). But that was okay, because most of his questions were rhetorical. That's what happens when someone knows everything, all of their questions turned rhetorical. How it had irked her those last months, him posing questions he assumed he knew the answer to, like some kind of high school English teacher with a devotion for the Socratic method. The condescending way he tried to drag her to his conclusion without ever saying anything. He'd been such a fucker. But now, what he was doing with his fingers, none of it mattered. A year of passive-aggressive "what did you do todays?" melted away in the heat of her arousal. He'd hated having a stay-at-home spouse, though he'd been happy enough to move her away from her network and the company where she'd interned and been offered a position at graduation. He hadn't minded losing that income, had he? One of Derek's fingers slid inside of her and it was all over, what little resistance remained evaporated. She buried her hands in his hair, noticing absent-mindedly that it was longer now than when they'd been married, the length allowing waves to form and kick out by his ears and at the base of his neck. The stubble from his five-o'clock shadow scratched at her neck when he dipped his head to nuzzle, suck and tease. Darcy arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest as delicious heat built between her legs and he caught her earlobe with his teeth. "Uhn," she whimpered. "I missed you, Darcy," he said. She shook her head, banishing the words. "Take me to bed," she said. "I want you to take me to bed." Derek's eyes explored her face. It's too late for your white horse. The words were on the tip of her tongue but she bit them back. Knowing Derek they would have started a conversation, and she didn't want a conversation. She was slightly tipsy and she wanted a man in her bed and he was the man that was here and that was all it was. He hadn't stopped finger-fucking her and she slid her eyes closed, avoiding his gaze and pretending to be wrapped up in the desire. And she was, to a certain extent. He body ached to be filled, ached to feel the erection that was currently pressed against her thigh inside of her instead, ached for that connection with another human, the fleeting promise that temporary possession. Finally he nodded. "Where's the bedroom?" He didn't know this house, it hadn't been theirs. She thought about making him guess, but she was too horny for that. Instead she took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. It was the only room she'd put a lot of effort in decorating. She had wanted a beautiful room and she'd achieved it. The walls were lavender, the bedding a grey and white chevron print topped with yellow and dark purple throw pillows. On the dark hardwood floors was a sheepskin rug, soft and luxurious against her bare feet as she led him to the bed. Derek kicked off his shoes and socks, and she smiled, remembering fondly the times she'd teased him about his propensity to make love to her with white athletic socks still on. He removed his shirt next, revealing the return of his six-pack. He was in biking shape, again, and obviously working on his abs based on the definition. He was not starving, though, and she wondered if there was someone else cooking his meals. How much energy she'd put into making dinner. Quickly she forced the thought out of her mind, focusing instead on his hands at his jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping and then pushing the denim down. His erection strained against his boxer briefs enticingly, and suddenly she remembered she was still dressed. Darcy stood up and lifted the hem of her camisole over her head as Derek hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and yanked them down. Her panties went along for the ride and before long she was naked and sprawled on the bed and Derek's face was between her thighs. She was hot and wet and ready, already squirming beneath him. The touch of his tongue sent a jolt of electricity through her body. Darcy shivered and grabbed a handful of dark hair, holding him against her as his tongue began to move. He lapped at her clit and juices as she rocked her hips into his face, grunting and mewing, and with each passing moment his movements became more like an assault. He dragged his teeth over her clit and she shuddered. Tension and heat wound up inside her. She wasn't ready to come for him, wanted the ecstasy to last, so the dragged him up by his hair. He chuckled as she lifted herself up onto her elbow and kissed him, tasting herself on him as his tongue wrestled with hers. Darcy hooked her toes into the waistband of his boxer briefs and pushed them down and off his legs. His erect cock sprung free. "Darcy," his voice was hoarse and needy as she wrapped a hand around his erection. It was too much need, too many memories resurfaced at the tenderness of the moment. Tell me why I'm feeling like I missed you all this time. "Fuck me," she whispered, banishing the thought, "Please fuck me." It worked. It always had. Derek entered her in one swift motion, burying his face in the soft skin of her neck as he shuddered in response to the sensations. "Hard," she cooed against his ear. "I don't wanna come so soon," he protested. And that was true, he didn't-he never had wanted to. But she knew how to get her way, and the emotion that accompanied having him inside her again was tearing her apart. She was not nearly as tough as she believed herself to be. "Please, Derek, Fuck me," she bucked her hips, grabbed at his ass, dug her fingernails into the pale skin on his buttocks. "Your cocks feels so good." She pulled his cheeks apart, exposing his asshole to the cool air in the room. He groaned, shuddered, started working at her clit again, this time with his thumb. Pinching, rubbing, squeezing. She made a conscious effort to tighten her pussy around his cock, putting her kegel exercises to work, and resumed rocking her hips. Some days she used Ben Wa balls in the barre studio, using the time to strengthen her pelvic floor muscles. The balls stimulated her kegel muscles but also stimulated her arousal. Did her students notice more hard nipples than usual on those days? Those days certainly generated more thoughts of Derek than was prudent, and she often ended up sliding her mini vibrator, the one designed to look like lipstick, inside her panties before starting her drive home from work. "Darcy, please," Derek said, holding still inside of her, trying to gain his composure. She squirmed underneath him, rhythmic circles meant to lull him into complacency. "Not like this." Derek looked at her then with eyes that looked like coming home. She felt the familiar swell of hope, the flutter of butterfly wings where simple digestion should have been. Everything had changed. Already she wanted him back, all of him. Wanted her husband, wanted to be his wife. "You feel so good," Derek whispered, letting a hand slide down her tummy and to her clit. Her pubic hair was almost completely gone, only a tiny little swatch left, more for decoration than anything else. He pushed apart the folds of her pussy and started stroking her clit, gently this time. Darcy's head fell back onto the bed as she whimpered and grunted, her vocalizations getting louder as his movements got faster and he increased the pressure. Her whole body was tense, now, a tight coil ready to spring. He was creating sensations within her that were so strong they are almost painful, but she didn't want him to stop because she knew release was on the other side. And she didn't want him to stop because, despite the borderline over-sensitivity of her now-engorged clit, it felt good. "Derek," she breathed. There was no pretending now, no games. Derek let the thumb of one hand roam over and around her clit. Darcy's breathing grew ragged as the tingling intensified and he brought her to orgasm in his arms. The pulse of her clit was intense, as if it was trying to turn itself inside out, before she felt the accompanying gush of juices around his cock and the slow throbbing, the after-effects of her release, started to pulse. Derek nibbled on her ear, kissing her softly. A lover's kisses. A victor's kisses. He started moving inside her. Her clit was still sensitive, still throbbing as her orgasm waned. He squeezed at her breasts, her hand still wet from having just abandoned her clit. He smeared their combined juices together across her chest as he squeezed first one, then the other breast. How she loved when he fondled her breasts. "I can feel it," Derek said, and she knew he meant her orgasm, that he could feel the after-effects of her orgasm, feel the contractions of her pussy around him. He started to move inside her with renewed purpose. Darcy wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, harder and faster at his inward strokes. Everything about this was stupid. He wasn't wearing protection. How many women had he been with since the divorce? She knew of at least one: Emma, his high school sweetheart. That had hurt, considering the tension she had caused in their marriage. Her constant need for "advice" and overly-friendly texting habits. When she saw them out together after the divorce, Emma hanging off his arm, it reopened the wound of her failed marriage in a way she wouldn't have thought possible. He'd always defended Emma's intention (she was just friendly because she was a friend). How stupid she felt running into them at a bar in town, so stupid she ducked away immediately, leaving her date (a match from an internet dating site [which were hard to come by in this town] sitting at the table waiting for a woman that wouldn't, couldn't, arrive. And now she was in bed with Derek, bare skin against bare skin, no protection from disease or pregnancy between them. They had only discussed children in generalities. How many did they want? Two. When? At the five year mark, once they had a significant amount of time together. But they'd never made it to the five year mark. Derek was getting closer, his thrusts increasing in speed and intensity as a layer of sweat built on his skin. "Where should I come?" "Come inside me," it didn't matter what was proper, or smart, or forward-thinking. It only mattered what she wanted, and what she wanted was cum leaking out of her pussy, pooling on her panties. What she wanted was to feel his orgasm, feel the throb of his cock as he came. And he did- he came, and he throbbed, and he—finally- filled her up. Darcy was a lightweight when it came to drinking, so it was arguable whether she fell asleep or passed out. But she woke up to the harsh squawk of her alarm clock (the yogis were waiting) with a sticky film between her legs and an empty bed. She could tell the bed was empty of him, could feel it, and there was some relief in that—no awkward morning after—but also no small amount of disappointment. Stupid girl. She rolled onto her back and felt it, then, felt the way her pussy had been stretched, her clit abused. Felt the way it would change the way she moved all day, the way just walking was going to turn around. But then she heard it, noises is the kitchen. The sounds of pans hitting the stove. She didn't bother getting dressed, she stood, used her camisole to dry between her legs as best she could and walked out into the kitchen. It was a cool morning, she was treated to goosebumps and hard nipples. A gentleman, she decided, would have left after a one night stand. He wouldn't have stayed and made her sit through an awkward breakfast filled with awkward silences and awkward food. It was too early to have to deal with this. She had never been a morning person, and hadn't that been a spot of tension in their marriage? Hadn't it annoyed him to leave the house for work each day before she even made it out of bed. How petty his annoyance had seemed—what had she had to get up for? He was in the kitchen, shirtless and holding a wooden spoon to scramble the edges. His refusal to use a plastic spatula had, at one time, irritated the fuck out of her (who scrambles eggs with a wooden spoon?), but that was the least of her worries today. Now she worried about the way his jeans clung to his backside, and about the way her hands longed to touch him, the way she knew, instinctively, how warm he would be if she walked up and pressed her breasts against his back. She was irritated with herself just for thinking it. Darcy hadn't had any coffee, didn't have time for manners. But she had time for questions, because she wanted answers. "You're still here." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. Derek surmised as much. "Divorce wasn't anything but missing you, Darcy." And so that was Derek, throwing down the gauntlet. What a fucker. But he could throw down as many gauntlets as he wanted, it wouldn't make them any less divorced; and he had chosen that. "I hate the way you make eggs," she said. And he smiled. And she smiled, too, the way she knew all along she was going to. And it was all over for her. ***** Author's note: I sincerely appreciate any votes, comments or other feedback. Please don't be shy.