0 comments/ 20245 views/ 36 favorites Texas Heat Ch. 03: Redemption By: MercuryLove31 I had time to think on the flight to Chicago. Honestly, I had time to think because I was sitting in the economy section alone. There had only been one seat available in first class...thank goodness. So, Michael had to stress without me...although he'd already made his way back to my seat more than a few times. Mostly I was thinking about the dream I'd had that morning. Some of it accurately reflected the many changes in my life during the last few years. Selling my house and my car...moving to New York and into a small apartment with Bruce....my promotion to Michael's Executive Assistant and the nice pay raise that went along with it...the pretty radical weight loss (I was probably closer to a size 10 now)...island hoping in the Caribbean with Bruce, plans for a second honeymoon...and my marriage, how 'safe' I felt with Bruce. How very...comfortable it felt. All of that had been true. Even my concern about the missing fights, the missing passion, the missing heat. He really had gone away for a weekend Bachelor Party and lied to me about it. And he had been working 60-70 hour weeks and then hanging out with the 'boys' from the office on Friday nights. And I had noticed a few odd phone numbers calling his cell phone. The dream accurately reflected the civil conversations we'd had about all of those issues...and my worries about him having an affair. Although when I say "worry," I didn't mean that in the traditional sense of the word. It was more like I had one more problem I was forced to deal with...it didn't seem to matter to me much more than that. That probably should have concerned me, but it didn't, not really. I could count on one had the number of times Bruce and I had been intimate in the last year. And when we did make love, that too was 'safe.' If Bruce promised me nothing else when he married me, he promised he would love me and protect me. He'd been trying to do his job, that's for sure. And I appreciated that about him. Was I doing mine? Had I kept my vows to love and honor him? To care for him through sickness and health? Well...I was an 'okay' wife. I took care of the grocery shopping and laundry, I kept the house clean...okay, well, I hired the woman who took care of the grocery shopping, his dry cleaning and kept the house clean. I kept up with our bills. I planned our vacations. I shopped for his suits, making sure he was up to date with the latest designs for his Wall Street job...okay, well, Michael took care of that really, but I'd initiated it. And when we made love, I was always careful to show enthusiasm and bring myself to orgasm...even if I needed a little mental stimulation to do so. I sighed. I sucked as his wife and I knew it. I didn't want to be married to him anymore. And I wasn't sure how to get out of it. And now that he had mentioned a baby for like the hundredth time, I wanted to flee so bad I could taste it. Almost every morning I convinced myself to tell him I wanted a divorce. And every evening I guilted myself into staying, reminding myself that marriage was a challenge and that I couldn't bail just because it wasn't a romance novel. But if I was honest with myself, I would admit I knew I was making a mistake when I was standing in front of the Justice of the Peace in downtown Manhattan five years ago. The jitters I'd experienced had nothing to do with nerves. They had nothing to do with the normal anxiety one felt when staring a new life with someone. They were all about feeling like I was making a mistake. A huge mistake. But much like I did every day, I had convinced myself that the feelings were nothing more than Buyer's Remorse...and that I was simply obsessing about a woman who didn't want to be with me, didn't deserve me, and wasn't ready for a committed relationship. I was jolted from my thoughts when a flight attendant asked if I wanted something to drink. I didn't hesitate to order a Stoli, neat...and then made it a double. We weren't scheduled to meet with our new potential client until much later and I would be quite sober by then. Meanwhile, I had to stop these thoughts. They were depressing the hell out of me. * Michael had a car waiting when we arrived at O'Hare. A nice, roomy SUV complete with an attractive male that seated us like VIPs and then went to collect our bags. Well, Michael's bag. I always carried my bag on the plane. Michael was in business mode, which was a wonderful distraction. He yammered on about the meeting, reminding me that I should pretty much keep my mouth shut. That was no problem. This would be one of our largest accounts if we managed to land it, so I had no problem letting Michael take the lead. Not to mention, my thoughts were a million miles away and I would surely botch things up if I tried to contribute. Once I arrived in my spacious hotel room, I called to check in with Bruce, leaving a message when he didn't answer, and then opted to take a nap. The alcohol was making me just sleepy enough where I knew I would be able to knock out for a few hours and wake up refreshed, which is exactly what I did. * I was actually awake before the alarm went off. I took a hot shower and dressed carefully in one of the few luxury items I'd splurged on since my marriage. It was a cream, double-breasted Dolce and Gabbana pantsuit and I looked terrific in it. I had better look damn good considering I'd spent close to $4,000 on it. I'd found the ideal pair of heels to match, an exquisite gold silk tee that offset the jacket perfectly, and Bruce had sprung for some outrageously expensive diamond studs I'd fallen in love with at Tiffany's. When it was all said and done, I knew I would look absolutely fantastic in my latest power suit. This is the second time I'd had a chance to wear it and I remembered how pleased Michael had been the first time. I was nervous about the meeting. Although Michael hadn't really talked to me about it, the economic downturn was hitting us pretty hard. We'd lost a few important clients. This one would make up for some of them, at least according to Michael. This potential client had managed to have some luck in the last few years, unlike everyone else. Obviously he wasn't tied up in banking. I smiled at my own joke. I finished dressing, taking a look in the mirror. I had to admit I looked good. The suit was really flattering, hugging all the right places. Although much slimmer, I was still rather curvy. It wasn't ideal for a Wall Street wife, but I liked what was left of my figure. I had pulled my hair back into a severe bun, which complemented my face. It was a little less round than it had been years ago, and my cheekbones were more pronounced. Add my almond-shaped, amber-colored eyes and full lips and I turned even more heads now than I had before. Sighing, I slipped into the heels, grabbed my leather bag, and left the hotel room. I wanted this meeting to be over already. Not that I was looking forward to going home either. Not surprisingly, Michael was a wreck when I arrived at this suite door. I shook my head, tossing my bag onto a table, straightening his bold, red tie, and then fixing him a drink. I watched as he downed it in one gulp. Then I sat him down and had him go over the proposal. Our potential client was scheduled to arrive in 30 minutes, so I had time to go back upstairs and grab a valium for Michael. He probably wouldn't make it through the meeting if he didn't calm down and I couldn't believe I'd forgotten the pills anyway. I didn't use them. I'd actually asked for the prescription for Michael. It was yet another way in which I took better care of my boss than I did my husband. I shook the depressing thought from my head and left his suite, hurrying down the corridor to the elevators. I should have noticed the difference when I returned. When he opened the door for me, he was in the zone. I should have seen it, because it would have clued me into the fact that the client had arrived and perhaps, perhaps, that would have given me a moment to prepare. Instead, I walked past Michael, looking for one of the bottles of water I'd noticed earlier, and slammed into a wall of muscle. I took in the flat stomach, small, barely noticeable breasts, and huge biceps...all of that covered in a rich, exquisitely made black jacket, the V at the neck showing just a hint of caramel flesh. My eyes moved upward to take in the face, wide and flat, the nose narrow with an odd bump on the ridge, thin lips and a square-ish jaw. It still wasn't an attractive face. Hard and a little intimidating. Her hair was still braided back into cornrows... and yes, she still made my mind go blank. It took me a moment...more than a moment to remember where I was...more than a moment to catch my breath...more than a moment for my brain to begin functioning again. I had taken a few steps back and bumped directly into Michael. I could hear him saying something, uttering some words...but I didn't understand them. I couldn't think...I couldn't... "Evy? Evy, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?" He was worried. I shook my head, turning my back to the imposing figure before me and reaching out to Michael with desperate eyes. I needed a second...just a second. "I...pl-please can I...I...outside. Can I speak with you outside?" I finally managed to get out. Michael was in full protective mode, apologizing profusely to his guest before escorting me outside. Once the door closed behind us, he grabbed my upper arms. "Are you okay? Are you sick? What's wrong with you? You look like you've seen a damn ghost." It took a moment for my brain to catch up again. This was not happening. This was not happening. I just kept saying the words over and over again in my head. "I...I can't st-...I need to..." I swallowed, forcing the words to form in my head first. "I don't feel well, Michael." "Oh god Evy, please, you can't bail on me now. This is important. Please. Just take a moment, okay? Maybe splash some water on your face? Please Evy, I need you. I'll try to keep the meeting as short as possible. Please." I already knew I wouldn't leave him. Like I said, I took better care of Michael than I did Bruce. I nodded, kept nodding, probably to convince myself rather than assure him. He kissed me on the forehead. He was opening the door before I was ready, but I realized I would never be ready, so what difference did it make? I followed him back into the suite, standing just a little behind him, using him as a shield. Maybe, just maybe, I could be the well paid secretary and keep out of their business dealings as much as possible. If I didn't have to think, if I could shut down, then maybe I could convince myself that this was not happening. "Evelyn Smallis, I would like you to meet Pasadena Williams. Ms. Williams, Evelyn is basically my right hand...well, both my hands and probably a foot." He laughed at the joke, I grunted out a noise that I hoped sounded like a chuckle, and our client didn't respond. No surprise there, she'd never been about bullshit. What she did do was extend her hand toward me. I stared at if for just a moment before I slipped my hand into hers. I probably should not have, but how could I explain not shaking our potential client's hand? Her hand was calloused and rough against my smooth skin, but that's not what I noticed. I noticed the bolt of electricity that made its way up my arm and squeezed my heart. I forced myself to look up into those dark, penetrating, chestnut brown eyes. We stared at one another for longer than a second, much longer than protocol permitted, and then she smirked and said in that damn sexy voice of hers, "Hello Princess." * Once Michael realized we knew one another, it was smooth sailing from there. I already knew the entire meeting was bullshit. Dee didn't strike me as the type of person who would jump into anything blindly. So, I was pretty sure she had researched our small firm and was comfortable with us managing her affairs. This meeting, the purpose of it? I wasn't sure. They talked business and joked like old friends. I had not seen this savvy, business side of Dee before and...it was remarkable. She could be charming if and when she wanted. But I wasn't really focused on that. My eyes were committing her to memory, assessing every little change as I took her in. She looked to be as bulky and muscular as when we'd first met, give or take an inch. Her hair was peppered with more gray than I remembered. That was logical considering she was five years older. She was still graceful, moving her frame about easily, casually...and she could still render me stupid. More than a few times she caught me staring and smirked. More than a few times a question was directed at me and I had to ask her, or Michael, to repeat it. More than a few times, I saw Michael staring at me like I'd lost half of my brain. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams by the time Dee finally stood, her intent to leave clear. I hopped up, anxious for this ordeal to be over. She shook Michael's hand, but didn't indicate that she wanted to shake mine again. A relief, I assure you. She was standing at the door, opening it, ready to leave. I could already feel my pulse slowing down, my body relaxing just a bit. But of course she couldn't leave well enough alone. She turned to me, her brow raised. "You free for a drink later?" Such a casual question. My immediate response was to beg off, but I could feel Michael tense beside me. He would think it was important for me to join her, to 'seal the deal' so to speak. I knew better. Still, I couldn't bring myself to disappoint him. "Sure." She nodded, that smirk returning, and I knew she had painted me into that corner purposely. "I'll meet you in the bar at 9." And with that, she was gone. * The first thing I did when I got back to my room was call Bruce. I needed to remember who I was, who I had been for the last five years, who I was still trying to be. He didn't answer his phone. I called again in between showering and changing. I slipped into a pair of jeans and a casual black tee. I scrubbed the make-up off my face. I was not going to dress carefully for her. I was not going to show any hint of interest. And I would let her know she was not being invited back into my life. I left my hair out, the curls framing my face. She was an old friend, we were getting a drink and that was it. I called Bruce again, hoping to hear his voice before I left. No luck. I sighed, closing the door behind me. I was the first to arrive in the rather sparsely populated hotel bar/restaurant. I was 30 minutes early. This hotel was actually quite upscale and I decided to order something to eat after being seated. The waiter asked if I wanted to wait for my guest, but I decided not to. I ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of wine. When I saw her enter the bar some time later, I was still picking at my salad and sipping my third glass of wine. She had changed too, into jeans, a black wife beater and a sports jacket. I took a huge gulp of the wine, ignoring the fact that my head was already spinning. She spotted me and made her way over. I watched as she sat, her piercing gaze settled on me intently. She assessed the situation quickly, glancing down at my collection of wine glasses on the table and the barely eaten salad. She smirked again, but before I could say anything to her the waitress appeared. She ordered a burger, fries and a whiskey, neat. I waited for the woman to leave before setting what I hoped to be angry eyes on her. "What do you want Dee?" She raised a brow, "done being polite now?" She asked, amused. "Fuck you." I spit out, not sure why I was so angry, not sure about anything. I was pretty sure the waitress heard me as she put Dee's drink down in front of her. She turned to me, indicating my mostly empty glass. "Shall I bring you another?" I was about to say yes when Dee cut me off. "She's done. Thanks." The nerve of her. I swallowed back the very impolite comment I was about to make until the waitress walked away. "What the hell do you want, Dee?" She didn't answer, picking up her glass instead. I watched her down half the contents before she set it back down. I continued to watch her, waiting, about to blow my top when she suddenly put an envelope I hadn't realized she was carrying on the table between us. I stared at it, then looked back up at her. "What the hell is that?" She ignored the question, waiting for me to pick up the envelope and open it. I regretted doing so immediately. Photos. Of Bruce. And the woman he was cheating on me with. Someone from his office. I knew her. Had met her at a few different functions. I replaced the photos and shoved the envelope away. Later I would wonder how she knew. I would wonder what the hell she was doing meddling in my life. But confronted with those pictures, sitting across from the woman that still came to me in my dreams after five years, I could only think of one thing to say. "I already knew." I snapped, albeit halfheartedly. She nodded, finishing her drink. She stared at me for a long moment before asking, "did you know she was pregnant?" A squeeze...right around my heart. Not a 'oh my god, how could he, I'm so hurt' squeeze. It was more a 'shit, now I really have to deal with this' squeeze. No matter the type of squeeze, I knew I no longer wanted to sit at a table across from this woman. I stood, my legs shaky, my head spinning just a bit, my heart pounding in my chest...and left her sitting there. She had no right. She had no right to sit across from me after five years. She had no right to know this type of information, much less share it with me. She was not a good friend. She was not a close family member. She had no right. I held onto my tears until I was behind my hotel room door...and then I sank to the floor and cried. My marriage was over. Bruce wanted a child. I did not. I would not bring a child into a struggling marriage. He would want this woman's child. I couldn't blame him. He had a chance to be with someone else, to be happy, why shouldn't he take it? But why hadn't he told me? Why did I have to hear it from her? What did she think? Now that things were over with Bruce, I would run back to her? She was wrong. She was no guarantee to happiness. She never had been. I sat there, leaning against that door for a while. I cried until I was all cried out. And then I wiped my tears and stood to start packing. I needed to deal with this and I couldn't do it in Chicago. I had crammed everything into my carry-on, called to change my flight (which cost me $300) and was about to call Michael to let him know I had to leave when someone knocked on my door. I figured it had to be Michael, coming by to see how 'drinks' went with our new client. I was glad I could tell Michael personally. He would resist less if he saw how distraught I was. I yanked the door open, prepared to plead my case to him, and froze. She was so much taller than I remembered. And the sports jacket fit her really well, hugging her broad frame, emphasizing the size and shape of her amazing arms. She leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes focused intently on me. I turned away from her, ignoring her for the most part as I called Michael. He actually didn't give me a hard time. I think the look on my face earlier that evening was still haunting him. He did ask how my chat with Dee went and I told him everything went well, glancing over at her as she continued to watch me from the doorway. Once I hung up with him, I continued to ignore her, gathering the rest of my things and shoving them into my bag. Giving the room a once over, I then headed to the door. She stood there, blocking my exit. I was not in the mood. Texas Heat Ch. 03: Redemption "I don't want to see you right now. Go away." "You needed to know." I gasped, "and you thought you should tell me? You thought you had that right? I haven't seen or heard from you in five years!" "You were married." "I am married," I corrected passionately. She shrugged, "but not happy." I sighed with exasperation and then dropped the handle of my bag, kicking it. I kicked it again and again. I thought expressing the anger that way would work, but it didn't and I was soon kneeling, sobbing uncontrollably, once again. When she knelt beside me, I stood and moved away from her, backing into the room, as far away from her as possible. I stared out of the window, wiping the tears from my face as I heard the door close. I didn't know if she had entered the room or left...I wasn't sure if I cared either way. "You needed to know," she said again. I turned to her, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from my face. "You lost the right to tell me what I need a long time ago. When you ran away like a little girl, you lost that right." The words stung and I could see the brief flash of anger on her face before she shut it down. We stood facing one another for a few moments and then I glanced at the bedside clock, realizing I needed to leave if I wanted to catch my flight. "I can't do this right now." I grabbed the handle of my bag again and wheeled it toward the door. This was over. It had to be. I needed to deal with Bruce first. And we had a lot to talk about. As a married couple...as two people who cared for one another. I didn't have time to stand here talking to a woman that seemed to bring nothing but mayhem and pain into my life. She waited until I'd opened the door before she leaned over me to slam it shut. I turned to face her, those chestnut eyes capturing me. I looked up at her finally, taking her in, noticing the strain on her face, the tension in her form. She didn't appear to be happy about upsetting my life. Well, thank goodness for that. "You think this was easy for me?" She asked sharply. I sighed, "why do you even care Dee? You didn't care five years ago, why do you care now?" It wasn't a fair question, but I didn't give a shit at the moment. She turned her back to me, taking what I assumed to be a calming breath. God knows I needed one. "You don't know what you're talking about." She finally bit out, her back still to me. I laughed bitterly, angrily. "I don't know what I'm talking about? You let me go. You didn't even put up a fight. And now you show up five years later? For what?" She still didn't turn to face me and I realized I'd had enough. I had a plane to catch. "I need to talk to my husband." I snapped, emphasizing the final word as I reached for the door knob again. She moved quickly, grabbing me, her grip brutal. I knew I would have bruises on my upper arms by morning. Even that fact didn't stop me from experiencing the same shock of emotion I always felt when she touched me. She stared down at me and I could see the frustration in her eyes. She closed them for a moment, loosening her grip on me, struggling with whatever she wanted to say. But I wasn't in the mood to be patient. I would have waited forever to hear what she had to say five years ago. Right now, I just wanted to get away from her. "Let me go Dee." I ordered in a dead, flat tone. She opened her eyes and shook me, hard. I think my brain rattled against the sides of my skull. When she stopped, I just stared up at her with surprise. It was probably the most emotion she had expressed since I'd met her. I could see her swallow before she spoke. "You think it was easy for me, letting you go?" She released me, pushing me away from her a little as she turned her back to me once more. I could see her take another deep breath. "Jesus Evelyn, do you really think I'm a fucking monster?" Her voice was thick with emotion and...I didn't know how to respond. "I hired someone to keep an eye on you a week after you left. I had to sit by while you moved in with him, married him, sold your house, your car...I had to watch you melt away, losing all that weight, your face haunted..." She sighed. She was standing beside the window now, glancing down into nothingness. "But I had to wait...had to...get my shit together." She stopped. I was reeling. This was not the same stoic woman I had walked away from all those years ago. We stood in silence for a few minutes. I wasn't sure what to say, what to do. I still needed to leave if I planned to catch my plane. I liked what I was hearing, but I didn't trust it. This was still the woman that had run from me. The woman who had let me walk away...although how easy that had been for her was now something I needed to reconsider. She'd had someone watching me? That was not only bizarre, and an invasion of my privacy...it was also sweet. To think she had known where I was, what I was doing, for the last five years. That she had paid someone to keep an eye on me. But there was still a part of me that wondered why that should make a difference? And what made things different now? Okay, she was talking, expressing herself in a way she never had before. But this was still Pasadena Williams and a leopard couldn't change its spots...could it? She turned to me, her face back to its normal impassivity, a brow raised. She was clearly waiting for me to say something. I swallowed, not sure what I should say. What I did realize was that I needed to deal with Bruce before I could deal with Dee. Every fiber of my being told me so. One mountain climbed and concurred before tackling another. But I couldn't get the image of her expression out of my head. The pained look on her face, the desperate sound of her voice... I didn't want to think anymore. I was so tired of being responsible, of being a good girl, of trying to be a good wife. I wanted to...I needed to... I went to her. I dropped my bag, shed my coat and went to her. I threw myself into her arms and kissed her fiercely, my arms curved around her neck, holding on to her so tightly I could not imagine ever letting her go. I felt her arms wrap around me, lifting me from the floor as she pulled me close. She kissed me hungrily, passionately, desperately...and I responded in kind. I needed her. I craved her. Nothing else mattered at the moment. I was in her arms again and she was with me, holding me, kissing me. It was her, not another dream. She was here, in the flesh, with me...finally. I wasn't sure how far I'd planned to go, but I didn't stop her when she started to remove my clothes. The feel of her rough hands against my heated flesh...I felt alive. After so many years, wondering what was wrong with me, why I couldn't respond sexually...now here I was, pressing myself to someone urgently, clinging to her as if my life depended on it, the blood rushing through my veins, my center pulsating. I felt like...she...she was breathing life back into me. She made me feel this way. She'd always made me feel this way. I wasn't frigid. I wasn't incapable of love. I'd simply been waiting...for something...for someone...for her. I took on the chore of removing my own clothes as our lips continued to explore one another's, allowing her to remove hers. I didn't have a chance to even look at her when we were done. She lifted me and carried me to the bed, lying down beside me. For a moment she just stared at me, combing her fingers through my silky curls, caressing my cheek. But then she moved closer and I felt her lips against mine again, hungry...demanding. I caressed her massive arms, the expanse of her back, enjoying the feel of muscled steel beneath the softness of her caramel skin. My legs pressed against hers, enjoying the strength they encountered. I leaned my head back as her mouth found my throat, making its way down toward my straining breasts. When the heat of her mouth covered a painfully erect nipple, her thick fingers sinking into me, I couldn't think...her touch, her smell, the feel of her against me...the way her mouth teased me, tortured me, hurt me in such a delicious way...her fingers fucked me...deep, rough...almost cruel. I was already gasping for breath, squirming against her, feeling my body burn. Suddenly her mouth left my breast. Her lips were on mine again, those dark chestnut eyes burning into my soul. "Cum for me Evelyn." She whispered it...and the orgasm swept thorough me at her command, shockingly, my body frozen as the intense emotions coursed through me. It took a moment...maybe quite a few moments, before my senses came back to me. My body was tingling...throbbing...and it craved more. I took a deep breath and shifted our positions, rolling on top of her. She let me take the lead, groaning as my hungry mouth covered a taut nipple. I slipped a leg between her massive thighs, pressing against her center in a way that made her moan again. I wanted to take my time, wanted to enjoy every inch of her muscled flesh...I wanted to taste her, to make her go over the way she'd done for me. So I made my way downward, savoring the salty taste and hard feel of her muscles on the way. I lapped at her flat stomach, dipping my tongue playfully into her navel. I nipped at her pelvic bone, continuing my journey as she lay all but frozen beneath me. A curly mass of soft, dark hair greeted me as I parted her thighs, settling between them. I took her in, enjoying the sight of her moist, thickened lips. I moved in to smell her desire, taking her into my nostrils, imprinting her onto my brain. I parted her lips with my nose, teasingly bumping against the hardened nub I found buried beneath. I stuck my tongue out, tasting her, savoring the feel of her warm cream on my tongue. She didn't squirm beneath me as I explored, but I could feel the tension in her thighs. I smiled, allowing my tongue to slowly lick the length of one side, then the other. I kept at it, alternating sides, enjoying myself as her lips grew fuller, thicker, and I found more and more of her sweetness hidden beneath the folds. When I took her hardness into my mouth, just holding it there, I felt her hips grind into me just a little. She was breathing hard, her hands curled into my dark locks. I sucked on it, teased it with my tongue, gently swabbed then lashed at it roughly... I was more than a little surprised when she shifted suddenly, grabbing my upper arms and pulling me up. Her lips found mine and she moaned as she tasted herself on me, her knee forcefully parting my thighs. She positioned her thigh at my center as I moved my thigh to hers and then we began to move together, riding each other. Even though I had already come, I knew I wouldn't last long. I cried out as her thigh mashed against my overly sensitive center and drove me over the edge. I dug my nails into her back as I listened to her harsh breathing, reveling in the feel of her massive form as it began to tremble. She didn't make a sound, just grabbed me to her with such intensity that I couldn't breathe. She released a gasp of air and I looked up, noticing her eyes were tightly closed as her body continued to shake. The fact that she was having an orgasm, pressed against me, clinging to me, affected me powerfully. I only had to rub myself against the massive thigh still lodged against my center a few more times before I was moaning through yet another climax. She rolled us over, settling on top, careful not to rest her full weight on me. I was still recovering from my last orgasm when I felt her fingers enter me again, pumping into me, slowly building speed, reaching up into me in a way no one ever had. She curved her fingers forward and hit a spot that set off an explosion of lights behind my closed lids. I cried out as she continued to tap that spot, fucking me savagely, desperately, forcing my body to climb until... it was a violent explosion of the most amazing sensations ever, my body quivering uncontrollably as a rainbow of colors danced behind my lids and my body simply erupted with absolute, utter pleasure. It was a rough, brutal ride, this orgasm, my senses having quickly overloaded, almost suffocating me. I'd never felt anything like it. And when my body finally returned to me seconds later, I couldn't stop the tears. She pulled me to her, her body relaxing as she kissed my face tenderly, whispering words I could barely hear. She waited until I had calmed, holding me tight, before reaching over for the comforter and pulling it over us. I slept peacefully for the first time in a long time. * I didn't make my flight. Not that night or the next day. In fact, I'm not sure I did anything beside shower, eat a little, and allow Dee to devour me over and over and over again. When I finally thought to check my phone, Michael had called a dozen times. Bruce had called twice. I hadn't missed my originally scheduled flight, we were planning to stay in Chicago until Friday evening anyway, but I thought it odd that Bruce hadn't called to check on me more often. I called Michael back as I packed, apologizing for dropping off the face of the earth. I told him I was not feeling well. I didn't tell him I was still in Chicago. This time I actually left the hotel for the airport. Dee had made my new flight arrangements, paying for the second change and an upgrade to first class. And she rode with me to the airport. When the cab stopped to drop me off, she leaned over to kiss me tenderly, stroking my cheek. "I'll see you in New York," she promised softly. "You're coming to New York?" I asked, embarrassed that I sounded so pleased. "Evelyn," she smirked, "I moved to New York five years ago." The surprise was still showing on my face as I watched the cab pull away from the curb. She'd moved to New York five years ago? Why? Had she been waiting for my marriage to fail? What if it hadn't? What would she have done? Had it failed? I sighed, shaking my head to clear it. I wasn't sure what was going to happen in New York, when I would be able to see her, what was actually going on with Bruce, but there was only one way to find out. I straightened my shoulders and went to catch my flight. *** First class always made flying easier, so I was pretty relaxed when we landed in New York. Bruce wasn't home when I arrived, even though it was after midnight. He'd texted me while I was in flight, explaining that a project he was working on was a little more challenging than he'd anticipated and I should not wait up for him. I decided he was right. It had been a difficult few days and I needed sleep. When I woke the next morning, Bruce was not in bed beside me. However, as I was making a cup of tea, he emerged from our tiny spare room. He kissed me on the cheek and then went into our bedroom to shower. He appeared about 45 minutes later, dressed in tennis whites. I remembered he had a standing tennis date at 10am on Saturdays. At least he said it was a tennis date...I wasn't sure anymore. I sighed. "I'll be home late. Teddy is having an impromptu get together for the guys tonight, okay?" He went to kiss my cheek again, but I grabbed his hand. "Bruce." He glanced at me, then at the pricy watch on his wrist. A custom made gift from me. "I'm late Evy, what's up?" I pushed forward, forcing myself not to delay the inevitable, "we need to talk." Something in my tone made him stop and actually look at me. He nodded, quickly texting someone on his cell and then sitting across from me at our tiny kitchen table. "What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" I nodded, hoping he would not make this any more difficult than it had to be. "Bruce..." I choked on the words. How did one start this conversation? I swallowed again and he reached over to hold my hand. Very gently, very carefully, I removed my hand from his. He frowned. "Evy?" "I know about her, Bruce," the words rushed from me. "I mean I've known for a while, but now..." I could see his immediate response was to plead ignorance. Then possibly head for denial? Instead of letting him go there, I slid the envelope with the pictures across the table toward him. I watched as he looked at each one carefully, his face red. I wasn't sure if it was red with embarrassment, shame or anger. When he was done, he calmly replaced the photos and sat back, staring at me. He looked...defeated. I started again before I lost my nerve. "Is she pregnant?" I asked softly. Another surprised look crossed his face, but he swallowed down the denial and simply nodded. And now that it was there, hanging between us, I didn't know where to go...so I said nothing. A part of me wanted to stand up and demand a divorce before storming out. But that didn't seem fair to Bruce. He was a decent guy. And I felt partially responsible for driving him into the arms of another woman. It's not like I'd been faithful myself. Even if I hadn't slept with her until recently, Dee had been a specter between us for years. The silence dragged on until I couldn't take it anymore. "Now what?" I asked. I wasn't sure if my voice sounded angry, withdrawn or crushed. I wasn't sure about anything at the moment. "I'll stop seeing her, Evy. I love you." I smiled a lopsided smile, "but it would kill you to walk away from that child, wouldn't it?" I asked realistically. He blushed again, but nodded. "She wants to keep the baby and since you can't get pregnant—" That caught my attention, "huh? What?" He paused, unsure, "I just assumed since you haven't been pregnant in all this time that you had some kind of medical problem..." I shook my head, "no Bruce. I can get pregnant. I was pregnant. I just didn't want to bring a child into this marriage. We didn't seem to be—" "What did you say?" His tone shocked me. It was...harsh...angry. I thought about the words I had just uttered and kicked myself mentally. I had planned to tell him...eventually. Some day, but not today. Not during this discussion, when our emotions were already running amuck. Well, the cat was out of the bag now. And this was about being honest with one another, right? "Last year. I was pregnant. I had an abortion." There, I'd said it. I imagine admitting that I'd had an abortion was probably as horrifying to him as hearing he had impregnated another woman was to me. Not that I was trying to keep score, I was just thinking about how he was feeling at the moment. Probably betrayed...and pretty damn angry. It was the anger I saw on his face. An anger I had never really seen on him before. "You killed my child?" He asked, his voice soft...deceptively calm. I didn't like the way he said it. It sounded like murder. It sounded like I had no right. But it was my body, and my choice. At least that's what I'd told myself at the time. If I wasn't ready to be a mother, what was the point of discussing it, right? I mean...right? "Evelyn?" He demanded, his blue eyes cold and hard as he stared at me. "I had an abortion." I repeated, not able to use his words. He closed his eyes and I could see his hands trembling as he closed them into fists. It scared me for a moment. I'd never seen him so...upset. He seemed to be shaking with rage. For a moment I wanted to flee, maybe give him some time to calm down? But I remembered that he said he cared for me...and he'd never put his hands on me before. He was not a violent man. But I should have trusted my instincts. A second later he was on his feet. The mug that held my piping hot tea was snatched up and hurled across the room, smashing against the white wall. He kicked the tiny table from in front of me, it crashed loudly against the kitchen appliances. Then suddenly, shockingly, his hands were around my throat and...and I experienced real fear for the first time in my life. His eyes were unrecognizable and his hands were closing off my air. Slowly the shock wore off and I felt panic start set in. I clawed at his hands, drawing blood. Texas Heat Ch. 03: Redemption It was over seconds later. He stopped. Just stopped. We watched each other for a moment and I saw realization dawn on him. But when he moved toward me, maybe to see if I was okay, I scurried away from him, finding my way to a corner of the kitchen and trying to disappear as I shrank from him. He hesitated for a moment, looking around as if he wasn't sure where he was. He glanced down at his scratched and bloody hands, took a deep shuttering breath, and then left the apartment. * I sat there for a long time. A very long time. In fact, it was dark when I finally moved from that corner. My entire body was stiff, yet trembling at the same time. I could only think of one thing. I had to get the hell out of there. I needed to leave before he returned. I had unpacked the night before, but I rushed into the bedroom and tossed my travel case onto the bed, thoughtlessly shoving clothes into it. I hurried to the bathroom and grabbed a few toiletries. Then I closed the case and searched for my purse. I moved quickly and was almost at the door when I heard a key in the lock. Terror seized me and I froze, wishing myself invisible, angry that I hadn't left sooner. I couldn't bring myself to move, couldn't think logically as the door opened slowly... "Evy?" Michael! It was Michael! I let out the breath I was holding, running to him and collapsing into his arms and crying hysterically. He held me, rubbing my back, soothing me. "Shhhh, it's okay Evy. It's okay." He said the words over and over again, but nothing could ever convince me they were true. We stayed in my dark apartment, my boss, my friend, holding me, trying to calm me down, for quite some time. When I finally had been reduced to dry sobs, he led me to the sofa and sat with me for a few minutes. He then went to the kitchen, rummaging around until he found a bottle of Puerto Rican rum someone had given us as a gift last Christmas. He poured a hefty amount into a glass, bringing it to me and encouraging me to drink. I gulped some down, appreciating the immediate warmth it offered my chilled frame. He switched on a light and then sat beside me, inhaling sharply. "Shit, did Bruce do that?" I hadn't looked in a mirror so I wasn't certain what he meant. But considering he was staring at my neck, I could only imagine that Bruce had left an imprint of his fingers around my throat. Not that it would surprise me, I did bruise pretty easily and he had squeezed and squeezed...I stopped thinking about it, drinking heartily from the glass in front of me again. I looked over at Michael. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice rough and scratchy from the tears. "Bruce called me. He told me something had happened...that you needed me." I nodded, realizing for the first time what they meant by 'crimes of passion'. If Bruce had not come to his senses, he would have killed me. I was sure of it. I took in a deep, cleansing breath. I looked over at Michael, realizing he must have a million questions, but glad he didn't ask them. He was watching me carefully, not sure what to do next. I stood shakily. "I need to get out of here." "He told me he's not going to come back tonight, just in case you want to stay." I shook my head. I would never be able to sleep in this apartment alone, worrying about whether or not he was coming home. "No. I have a bag packed, could you get it for me? And then I—...I just...I just need you to take me to a hotel." "Don't be absurd Evy, you'll come home with me. Cindy would love to—" He stopped as I shook my head emphatically. Going home with Michael, to his live-in girlfriend, meant questions. I couldn't handle questions right now. "I need to be alone Michael...please. But thanks." He didn't insist, standing to retrieve my bag. I grabbed my coat and followed him to the front door. He stopped abruptly and I almost walked directly into him. He turned suddenly, dropping my bag and hugging me to him again. I smiled shakily, relaxing against him. "Evy," he spoke over my head as I pressed my face into his coat, "if Bruce did this...I mean," he swallowed. "I mean, this is serious, Evy. Do you want me to call the police?" I shook my head, holding onto him tightly for a moment before pulling back. "No. Let's just go, okay?" He nodded, holding my hand as we left the apartment. Something told me this would be the last time I would think if this apartment as home and my heart was heavy. Not because my life was changing, drastically, yet again, but because of the pain I had inflicted on someone who had genuinely cared for me once. I sighed, watching as Michael locked the door for me and then following him down the stairs. * Michael took me to a moderately priced hotel on the lower east side, insisting the company would pick up the tab considering "moderate" in New York City was still $200 a night. He asked if I wanted him to stay, asked if I wanted him to call anyone, asked if I wanted him to get me something to eat...and then he finally left. I closed and bolted the door after him, crawling into the bed and burying my head beneath a pillow. What had happened to my life in the span of 48 hours? I was tired of crying, tired of feeling exhausted, tired of feeling confused. And yet, what was left? I wasn't angry. I didn't care if he'd tried to kill me, maybe he was right, maybe I had killed his baby. Maybe I should have talked to him about it. Maybe...I don't know. I only knew he was not a bad man. He was a decent man. He hadn't meant it. No one would convince me otherwise. And I knew I would not fight him in any way about the divorce. I hoped he would want to divide our joint accounts equally, but if he insisted on keeping all the money, I probably wouldn't challenge him. The apartment was a rental, our only car was in his name...there wasn't much else to divide. I wasn't really connected to the furniture. Most of it had come from Bruce's place anyway. I sighed, wondering why I was thinking so logically. When my phone rang, I hesitated, not wanting to talk to Bruce, yet wanting to assure Michael that I was okay if it was him. But when I glanced at the phone it was neither of the men in my life. It was a new number I had yet to add to my address book. I answered the phone, forcing myself to sound calm. "Hello?" "Hey." I swallowed. Calm, I told myself, calm. "Are you here? How was your flight?" She didn't respond. I thought maybe she hadn't heard me. "Dee? How was your flight?" There was no answer and I thought maybe she'd been disconnected. I was about to hang up when she finally spoke. "What's wrong Evelyn?" I sighed. Clearly I had not masked the tension in my voice. I took a deep breath, ready to assure her that everything was okay, when my voice broke. I couldn't swallow back the tears quickly enough. "Dee." It was all I managed to squeak out for the next few minutes. She let me cry, not saying anything until I had calmed down a little. "Where are you? Are you at home?" "N-no. No." I told her the name of the hotel. "I'll be there in 30 minutes." * True to her word, she was knocking on my room door 30 minutes later. I slipped into one of the hotel's robes, pulling up the collar before opening the door. She looked me over as I locked the door behind her, those chestnut eyes seeing right through me. When I turned from the door, she immediately went for the collar of the robe, turning it down. I could see her face harden as she looked at what were probably pretty evident bruises around my neck. "Tell me what happened," she demanded softly. I sighed, "it was nothing—" "Don't Evelyn. Don't do that. Just tell me." So I did, carefully emphasizing that it was my fault for letting the information about the abortion slip, for having the abortion in the first place without talking to him about it. She was silent as I spoke, watching me closely. When I finished, she didn't respond. Instead, she reached into the brown paper bag she'd brought with her and removed a sandwich, a bag of chips and an iced tea. She set them on a small, round table and then pulled out the chair for me. "You need to eat." I smiled, realizing I hadn't eaten all day. The food helped with the nausea caused by the rum I'd drank earlier. And afterwards, I grew quite sleepy, my body finally giving in to exhaustion. She lay me down in the bed, settling in behind me and pulling me close. I sighed, relaxing against her warm strength, and fell asleep almost immediately. *** She spent the weekend with me, lying beside me every night, making sure I ate, watching over me as I slept. It was nice. She didn't even put up too much of a fuss when I insisted on going to work on Monday. To be honest, I needed some time away from the issue of my marriage and work would distract me. Even Michael seemed to understand that, obliging me to the letter by keeping me busy for most of the morning. Then he took to me lunch to make sure I ate. After lunch, I waved as I walked past our relatively new receptionist, a cheerful, older woman who did a remarkable job of keeping our lives more organized. She was on the phone and instead of waving, pointed emphatically toward my office. I had no idea what she meant and I wasn't sure I cared. I desperately needed a few minutes of alone time. But when I entered my office, I suddenly knew why she'd been pointing. Bruce stood from a chair and turned to face me. His face was a chalky white and he appeared shaken. Actually, I would say he seemed downright petrified. I raised a brow. "Hey," I began neutrally, more than a little anxious as I closed my office door. Hey simply stared at me, his eyes angry and...filled with something else I couldn't really read. "What's wrong?" I finally asked. "As if you didn't know?" He spat. I looked at him, thoroughly confused, "know what? What happened?" He looked at me as if I'd grown a second head, "you're gonna stand there and tell me you didn't send that, that...that gorilla to threaten me?" I flinched at the word, already pretty sure who he meant, but I shook my head, still uncertain, "Bruce, what are you talking about?" That made him pause and he stared at me for a moment. It finally occurred to him that I may not know what he was talking about. "You don't know? Really?" I nodded, indicating he should sit back down. "What happened? Who threatened you?" "Some woman. She was huge, tall, with muscles...and those braids, you know, like the rappers wear. I thought you—...because of what I did, I thought..." He dropped into one of the chairs. I shook my head again, "why do you think I sent her?" I asked. "Because she told me if I ever put my hands on you again, she'd kill me." He answered solemnly...and clearly more than a little terrified. I sighed, "she's a friend. I'm sorry." "Pretty good friend," he muttered under his breath and I smiled just a little. We grew silent and he stared at me for a few moments before standing again. "She said I...that I..." He didn't finish. I tensed a little as he approached me, folding down the collar of my turtle neck to see the blue and purple outline of his hands around my throat. He closed his eyes. "Jesus Evy, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking...I'm so sorry." I nodded, removing his hands from my collar and holding onto them, "I'm sorry too Bruce. I really am." He kissed my hands and then we hugged for a moment before sitting down across from one another. "Now what?" He asked. I squeezed his hands tightly, "Michael called a friend. He's already getting started on the paperwork. You'll get it in a few weeks." I told him softly. He sighed, bringing my hands to his lips again. "You're sure about this? Sure this is what you want?" He asked. I nodded, "Bruce, you have a chance to be with someone who will make you happy. And I want you to be happy, okay?" He smiled again, standing. "Okay, I better let you get back to work." I stood and he hugged me once more. "Oh, I took a couple thousand from our joint account, but I left the rest for you. I know you'll need it." I smiled, "thanks." I walked him to the door, hugging him again before he left. It was not an ideal ending, but I felt good about it all the same. *** When I left the office and began the trek back to the city, I was drained. The talk with Bruce, while good, had been taxing. And Michael thought I still needed to be distracted, so he kept me pretty busy for the rest of the day. Not to mention I was not looking forward to the chat I needed to have with Dee...I sighed at just the thought. I slept most of the train ride home, climbing the subway stairs and slowly walking toward the hotel. I was ready to just drop when I reached the room door, only to have the keycard rejected. I tried a few more times, sighed, and then headed back to the elevators. I had to wait online at the front desk. When I finally reached the counter, I informed the clerk that my keycard wasn't working. "Oh, that's because you checked out earlier today," he said. I frowned, "no I didn't. I was at work all day." He nodded, "yup, you did. And there's an envelope here for you." He handed me the sealed envelope. I stepped off the line, more than a little confused, and tore the envelope open. It was a short message that read 'Waiting for you out front. Dee'. Still confused, I exited the lobby and stood out front. The only thing I noticed was a huge, black car with tinted windows that was double parked. It was a nice car, something I could scarcely afford, with a huge silver, rectangular grill in the front. I didn't see Dee and I was getting annoyed. I was tired and I really wanted to rest. I was considering going back inside to ask for another room when the driver's side door of the double-parked car opened. I glanced over only because it was something to do while I contemplated my next move. I never expected it to be Dee. She stood from the driver's seat, walked around the car and opened the passenger side door for me. More than a little surprised, I hesitated for just a moment before I slid into the warm interior, sinking down into the soft, bucket shaped, smooth leather seat. I watched her walk around the front of the car and slide in behind the wheel. She pulled away from the hotel and headed uptown. I sat beside her in silence for a spell, watching the buildings pass us by. Then I cleared my throat. "What kind of car is this?" It was a nice, safe question. "A Bentley Continental." I nodded, sinking further into the ultra comfortable seat. I waited another moment before asking the next question. "What happened to your Toyota?" "Scrapped it...five years ago." The answer surprised me. Actually, it totally shocked me. What did it mean that she'd let go of the last thing her father had given her five years ago? In fact, that seemed to be only one of a number of monumental changes she'd made in her life five years ago. Were they related to me? To her feelings for me? Or had I simply shaken her out of her frozen state? I shook my head, that wasn't what I wanted to talk to her about. "Why did you check me out of the hotel?" I asked instead. "You're not staying there." I raised a brow, "well, I'm not ready to go home yet, so where am I staying?" "With me." "With you?" "I have space. You can stay with me." Her voice was a little tight as she made the statement. I guess she was bracing herself for the possibility that I would not want to stay with her. I didn't feel like arguing with her about it though. As long as I had my own room and there were no assumptions made, staying with her was fine by me. I decided to change the direction of the conversation again. "Bruce came to see me today." I offered. She didn't say anything. I sighed, "Dee, you can't go around threatening people who hurt me." "Actually, I can." Her answer dumbfounded me. "No, you can't. That's just nuts." "He's lucky I didn't smash his fucking face in," she bit out. I didn't have a reply for that comment, so I just sighed again and changed tactics once more. "What's going on here, Dee?" Again, she didn't say anything. "I mean, you can't just come back into my life and start making decisions for me. You can't defend me. You can't—" I stopped, shaking my head. I could feel myself beginning to panic, wondering what I was doing with this woman. This is the same woman that wasn't there for me before. So why was I in her car, whether it was a new car or not? And why was I allowing her to make decisions for me? "I...I just...I don't know if this is going to work. I mean...I don't see what's different here, Dee." I choked out, trying to stop the impending tears. "Easy Princess." Of all the things she could have said, that was probably the worst. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself down. I remembered when she'd said that to me five years ago. I would never forget those words actually. I was so upset my chest was getting tight and my head was starting to hurt. I tried, once again, to swallow back the tears I felt coming. "Fuck you, Dee." I spat my standard response at her. And I decided to ignore the tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn't need this bullshit. I didn't need her bullshit. My entire life had just been turned upside down in multiple ways, for the second time, and it was because of this woman! And all she had to say to me was 'easy Princess?' I was so angry I didn't even realize she was pulling the car off the road. I sat there stewing, wondering if I should bite her really hard before I left her precious, fancy car, slamming the door hard enough to break the window. Even when I realized the car was no longer moving and we were sitting in the dark, it didn't calm me down. And I wondered if she knew how close she was to having a permanent bite mark on her arm when she finally turned to me. She sighed. It was a heavy, resigned sigh. It made me feel a little better that she wasn't as calm as she pretended to be. "Evelyn," she started, her voice raspy and...a little unsure. That surprised me considering she always seemed in control...detached even. She sighed again. "Evy..." But she stopped again. Whatever she was trying to say, it was difficult for her to get the words out. I heard her swallow before she started again. "You want to know what's different?" She asked softly. I didn't respond. If she knew me at all, she would know I needed to know what was different. I was surprised, however, when she turned to me, pausing for just a moment before she reached for my hand. She brought it to her lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly...and then she placed it over her heart. "This is what's different," she whispered. I could feel her intense gaze on me and the anger melted. I closed my eyes, feeling the strong, steady beat of her heart beneath my hand, my arm zinging with the electricity that typically coursed through me at her touch. We sat like that for...it seemed like an eternity. Her deep breathing the only sound in the car as my hand rested over her heart. She cleared her throat before she spoke again, "you want to know what's different?" She asked me again, just as softly, her voice a little more passionate, "I know I don't want to live without you anymore." Those words...the way she said them...I felt the tears start again. I'd dreamt of hearing those words, said in that thick, raspy voice of hers... My hand began to shake as she moved it from her chest and brought it to her lips again. "You want to know what's different?" She asked me again, her voice still tender but filled with a desperate, powerful emotion. "I love you, Evelyn." She squeezed my hand as she said it. I wasn't looking at her, couldn't seem to bring myself to look at her. I was terrified. Terrified this was another dream, terrified this wasn't really happening...just plain terrified. It didn't seem fair that I would get what I wanted, what I needed, from this woman. This strange, isolated, withdrawn, moody, intelligent, talented, wonderful human being. And so I must be dreaming. For Pasadena Williams to tell me she loved me...I must not only be dreaming, I must be in a coma. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible...was it? Texas Heat Ch. 03: Redemption When I didn't move, when I refused to turn toward her, she reached out to capture my chin and turn it toward her. Even in the darkness of the car, lit only by a street light, I could see the intensity of the emotion in those beautiful, chestnut brown eyes. She was serious...and she was finally ready. I swallowed, wondering if, once again, I was moving too fast. Things had just ended with Bruce. Maybe I needed to slow this down, take my time, get to know her again... A part of me wanted to be cautious, to be careful...but when she leaned in to kiss me...gently...sweetly...I realized it was a kiss filled with promise, filled with compromise...filled with love. I sighed again, taking in a deep breath before I returned her kiss, accepting her pledge to me. And I knew I was hers, for better or for worse. I always had been.