129 comments/ 41091 views/ 14 favorites Michael and Elizabeth By: Chagrined A little vignette for you to read. Be sure to read the bottom when you finish! There is no heavy, graphic sex! ***** He stood with his left arm pushed out holding himself against the window frame. His eyes gazed out at New York below. Lights twinkled, cars moved. Signs of life as busy as the city itself. In the distance along the East River, he could see the UN; the detail he had requested after leaving Paris. From behind him the voice of the one person he loved more than anything shook him from his reverie. "What happened to us, Michael?" "Well, finding you in our bedroom with a men not me for starters," he stated flatly. "Michael, I am so sorry," the voice replied. "I am sorrier than you can imagine." His eyes never leave the scene below him. "I know you are, Elizabeth." He pushed off from the frame and began to turn. ************************************************************* Out of habit, Michael Quinn stepped silently through his door. Also out of habit, walked over to the coffee maker held his hand up against the carafe. It was still warm. Good, I need a hot coffee right now. He reached up into the cupboard and drew down a coffee mug. He added cream and sugar. He liked his coffee blonde and sweet; it reminded him of Sarah, his six year old. He took a sip. From the back of the flat he heard a low moan. Puzzled, he walked off in that direction. It was coming from their bedroom. The bedroom door was closed but he could still hear soft moans. Perhaps Lizbeth was sick. She had been complaining about stomach problems for the past couple of weeks. He reached down and opened the door. There appeared to be a large naked black man with his hips moving rhythmically against the bed. Michael's eyebrows drew together more in puzzlement than in anger. Why is this man humping my bed? Michael stepped into the room and noticed a figure beneath the man. It was his wife, Lizbeth, her face obscured by the man's head. Her legs came up and wrapped around the back of his. That is odd, Michael observed. This guy is way out of shape. The man's hands slid down and grabbed Lizbeth's ass. The man's rhythm sped up. Sweat glistened off the man's torso and he began pumping faster. From underneath Michael's wife moaned again but this time Michael could not tell if it was in pleasure or pain. "That is it baby. Damn, but you got a nice pussy!" The strangers' tempo slowed down and his hips started to make circular motions pressing up against her clitoris. "Your husband never does this for you, hmmm, baby?" Lizbeth never said a word. "What is the matter baby, cat got your tongue? Maybe you are just remembering the taste of my cock." That said, his hips moved faster. Suddenly he stopped. A deep, guttural groan escaped as he slowly began to pump in and out of her. Oddly detached from it all, Michael surmised that the stranger must have just got his nut. The stranger must have been working pretty hard from the amount of sweat. "Please get off me. Your heavy." The man rolled off of her. Her body also shown with sweat. "Damn, woman, I hope your husband never finds out what he is missing. I gotta get some of this again!" ************************************************************* "Michael, are you all right?" Michael Quinn returned to the present with the start. "Yeah, yeah. I was just recalling something." He stepped away from the window and looked at the woman who had been his wife. His heart fluttered and his breath caught in his throat. Although not classically beautiful, to Michael, Elizabeth Quinn was still the most desirable woman he had ever known. Her long blonde hair fell over her face, vaguely reminding him of Veronica Lake. At 5'8" she was not overly tall but fit nicely against his 5'11" frame. Her hips were wide and a pleasant dividend from the three children they shared. Her legs were long and her thighs fully curved. Her breasts while small but set high. But the thing that held him the most were her deep blue eyes. Blue eyes were becoming less and less common in the United States and hers were the bluest he had ever seen. Even wearing her glasses, as she was now, her presence made him weak. Michael knew he still wanted her. He still loved her. "Where are my manners? Please, have a seat," he offered pointing to the leather sofa. He needed time to think - space to come to grips with seeing her again after all these months. He walked off into the kitchen and pulled out a chilled bottle of German Riesling. "Would you like a glass of wine, Elizabeth?" "Yes, Michael, yes I would." She said while setting her purse on the sofa next to her. "You always had good taste in wines." He had called her Elizabeth, not Lizbeth. This was not a good sign. "The French did not seem to think so," he said with a small smile. He set wine glasses in front of them filling both with the golden liquid. Michael had always preferred the slightly sweet German wines from the Rhine Valley. Elizabeth chuckled. "No, they did not." She took a sip. "Ummm! This is good." Elizabeth Quinn looked over the wine glass at her husband of 13 years. His body was still hard and lean, but then with his work he always had to stay in fighting shape. The face was still moderately tanned appearing a bit ruddier than she remembered. His hair was still ash blonde, but perhaps grayer at the temples. His eyes were steady orbs of hazel with flecks of gray. Michael cleared his throat. "So, what brings you here, Elizabeth?" This was the first time he had seen her in over six months. "You know why I am here, Michael," she began. "If you do not want to see me at least visit your children. Kevin and Brian are lost without you and Sarah cries every night. You wanted to divorce me, Michael, not your children. They should not have to pay for my mistake." Michael knew she was right. After he had left that night he had completely put his past life behind. To them he had just disappeared. He had gone the cowardly way and left without saying goodbye to anyone. But, his heart had just hurt too much. The pain had gone too deep, the wound had been open and bleeding. This was the excuse he had used to wallow in his own self-pity. She was right. He had no business shutting out his own children. They were his and not just collateral damage. The problem been with their mother and not with them. "Yeah. How are they doing?" "Now you are going to ask?" She took another sip of wine. "Kevin is just getting ready to start the seventh grade, as you know. Brian will soon become the terror of Miss Overton's fifth grade class. Sarah," she paused, looking deeply into her husband's eyes. "Well, Sarah has become a bit of a discipline problem. It appears that she likes to punch boys in the face whenever the opportunity presents itself." Michael followed his ex-wife's example and took a gulp of wine. His was a bit deeper than hers. "I am sorry to hear that. Have you taken her to see anyone?" "Yes, twice. Both counselors had the same diagnosis; she misses her father. So, she is acting out." His eyes flashed. "Are you saying this is my fault?" His wife sat her empty glass on the coffee table. "No, this is my fault. I take full responsibility. But, your absence has not helped matters." Michael stood up and walked over by the breakfast nook which separated the living room from the small kitchen. He needed space between the two of them. He needed space to think. He leaned back setting his arms one on each of the bar stools which lined the breakfast nook. "Elizabeth, other than trying to lay a humongous guilt trip on me, just why are you here?" Elizabeth stood and begin walking in his direction. Michael saw that she was wearing the teal suit that they had bought for her in Paris. It come with a jacket and matching skirt and Michael marveled at the way the teal accentuated the blue of her eyes. She needed it for an upcoming Embassy event and it was expensive as was most clothing in Paris. They had fought for nearly 20 minutes before Michael had finally relented and bought the ensemble. He also noted that she was also wearing the black open toed high heels that she had just had to have to go with the outfit. She was still the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And his heart ached for her. Elisabeth stopped in front of him. "Michael, you know why I am here," she said softly. "I have spoken to Harry and I know what you are doing. You can't go one like this, darling." "Harry needs to learn how to keep his big mouth shut," Michael complained. Harry Burns was Michael's immediate superior in the Diplomatic Security Service. As Regional Security Officer, or RSO, for the protective contingent at the United Nations, Harry reported only to the United States State Department at Foggy Bottom. Harry was also his friend. "Oh, really? What about that little stunt you pulled two weeks ago with the visiting president of Liberia? You know it made all the papers, don't you?" She gave a wisp of a smile. "Kevin was so proud. He informed the whole school." Michael cleared his throat. "That was not a stunt," he replied weakly. "I was doing my job." Elizabeth took a step closer to the man she had loved and spent wondrous 13 years. "That is not the way Harry sees it." She was standing directly in front of him now. Her blue eyes bore into his own hazel colored. Involuntarily, Michael took a step back. Her hand came up and laid lightly upon his chest. The effect was electric. "Michael, it is time for you to come home." ***** Well, folks, this seems like a good stopping point. I am going to leave this open. You have most of the background. You know for whom Michael works, you know what it is Elizabeth did, you know what effect it had on the family. You know that there is a problem with him and work. So, with all that behind you, I want you all to take a shot at ending this little story. It is my fervent hope that such illustrious writers as HDK, FrancisM, SS07, and, of course, FTDS, will take a shot at finishing this up. Will Michael and Elizabeth get back together? Will Michael find it in his heart to forgive and move on or will they separate? And what is it that Harry Burns has on his mind? If asked, I will certainly publish my version of the ending of the story. But I would like whoever wants out there in LiteErotica Land to take a shot and give their version of the ending. My only request is for God Sakes, please, do not turn Michael into a whimp! But, it is going to be your ending and I have given you carte blanche to write as you please. Oh, and I know I am leaving myself open to annony and the 1* bombs. So what? I will be looking forward to seeing what you do with this. Michael and Elizabeth: An Ending Chagrined invited other authors to finish his tale of betrayal. This is my contribution. ***** Involuntarily, Michael took a step back. Her hand came up and laid lightly upon his chest. The effect was electric. "Michael, it is time for you to come home." Like an overload on an electrical circuit, Elisabeth's touch blew the fuse that Michael had built between his conscious mind and the hurt and anger that he had managed to bury within his subconscious one. Without thinking, he slapped her hand away and pushed her back enough that he could move around her back into the openness of the room they were in. "Don't touch me or talk to me about coming home. I have no home because of you." Michael spat angrily at Elisabeth. "As for the children, you have sole custody so any problems you're having with them are yours to deal with. I'm leaving tomorrow for a UN security detail in Syria and I don't know when or if I'll ever be back." Even though Harry had told her that Michael had volunteered for the assignment; hearing it from Michael made Elisabeth gasp in surprise. "Please, Michael, don't go. I have a feeling if you go, you'll not come back alive. Our children need their father in their lives." Elisabeth managed to say barely loud enough for Michael to hear. "Our children, you really think of them as our children even though you know that Oleg Swenson has as much of a chance of being their father as I do." Michael replied bitterly to her; noticing the momentary flinch and the sudden loss of color Elisabeth exhibited at the other man's name. "Why are you shocked, Elisabeth? Did you think I've spent the last six months hiding in a dark apartment, crying in my beer? I'll admit I did that for about a week, but then the thought that if you could cheat on me now, you may have been cheating on me the whole time we were married, occurred to me. "That thought led to another, which led to another, which led to...; well you get the picture. You know how I am, Elisabeth, so I started thinking back over our live together and then I started searching for answers to all of those questions your infidelity brought into my head. "Kevin supposedly came late, but what did I find. The month after he was supposedly conceived, you were at the UN in Geneva and who did you spend a lot of time with, a blond haired, hazel eyed Swede named Oleg Swenson. You have to admit you have a type, Elisabeth, or did have until six months ago. The only mistake you made was Oleg's height. I guess that's why Kevin is almost as tall as I am at twelve years old. "Brian supposedly came early, but back the truck up, here you and Oleg are again in another UN city, Vienna this time, one month before Brian's conception. And last but not least; your sweet, well I guess she's more sour now, daughter, Sarah. We were living in Paris when she was conceived, and lo and behold, who happened to be vacationing with his wife in Paris around the time she was conceived?" Michael ranted at Elisabeth. Elisabeth could only stand there and shake as she fought the crying jag that was threatening to erupt at any moment. Several tears did manage to escape from her tightly shut eyes and flow down her ashen cheeks. "Answer me, damn it." Michael yelled at her. "Oleg." Elisabeth managed to whisper. "That's right. Fucking Oleg." Michael screamed one last time at Elisabeth before turning his back to her. Elisabeth watched as Michael struggled to regain some control over himself and his emotions. Finally, after ten minutes of silence, Michael turned back to face her. "I know Harry sent you here to try and talk me out of going to Syria, but you can save it because I'm going. You need to leave now." Michael said to Elisabeth in the saddest tone she had ever heard from him. "Please Michael, let me expl..." Elisabeth started to say before Michael erupted. "DON'T SAY ANOTHER WORD! I DON'T NEED OR WANT ANY EXPLANATION FROM YOU ABOUT YOUR CHEATING ON ME! LEAVE NOW PEACEABLY OR I SWEAR I'LL PHYSICALLY THROW YOU OUT THE DOOR!" Elisabeth fled in terror and shame from Michael's apartment as the sobs of pain and uncertainty escaped her body via her eyes and mouth. ************************* ONE MONTH LATER "Mom, hurry come look. Daddy's on TV." Elisabeth's middle child Brian yelled from their living room. "Why is he tied up like that, Mommy? Why do those men around him have hoods over their heads and those big knives in their hands?" Brian asked her as soon as she entered the room. Elisabeth grabbed the remote from her son's hand and jockeyed the TV station to the next one and off of the frightening scene of the only man she had ever truly loved bound and kneeling in the sand surrounded by men in dark robes and hoods. "Go to your room." She said to Brian with a tone he knew meant business. She made sure he was out of the room before toggling back down to the news broadcast her son had been watching. "Do you want to say any words of good bye to your loved ones before you are put to death?" Elisabeth heard one of the men ask Michael. "I have no loved ones. God Bless America." Michael yelled before the TV screen went black. "I'm sorry but "SNN" refuses to show the horrific death of American hero Michael Quinn who was beheaded by ISIS forces mere moments after his patriotic last words. Although he must have known he would be a target for ISIS, he volunteered to be a member of the UN security detail sent to Syria to safeguard the well-being of the doctors and nurses who had also volunteered to try and help the less fortunate people caught in the middle between the Syrian government and ISIS forces. From all the information "SNN" has managed to gather, Mr. Quinn was the only member of the UN constituency to be captured during the roadside ambush of UN personnel. "SNN" has not yet been able to confirm that Mr. Quinn had no loved ones to say good bye to when he was given that chance. Be assured that "SNN" will be following any and all developments related to the events we have witnessed today." Elisabeth sank to the floor in a daze by the time the announcer had finished his commentary and began wailing in anguish which brought all three of her children running to see what was wrong with her. It took several minutes before she was able to tell them that their father was dead and that they would not be able to see or talk to him ever again. The four of them clung to each other as their shared grief poured out of each of them. Their grief was compounded a couple of days later when Michael's boss, Harry Burns, came to their house and explained to them that the ISIS forces who had killed Michael had cremated his remains and scattered the ashes into the desert winds. ******************************** Twelve months later Elisabeth Quin was seated at a table in the farthest corner from the door of the small coffee house her meeting was to take place in Stockholm, Sweden. She did not stand to greet the man she was waiting on when he finally arrived ten minutes late and pushed him away when he bent down to try and kiss her. "Don't." She hissed at him with a noticeable tone of hatred. "What's the matter, Liz, aren't you happy to see me?" Oleg Swenson asked her with a touch of anger. "No, I'm not happy." Elizabeth managed to say. "I wish I'd never met you. I wish I'd been stronger and resisted when you first seduced me in Geneva. I wish I had told Michael everything when you started blackmailing me. I wish I'd never gave in and became a whore for you and your partners in their smuggling ring. I wish I hadn't let you pressure me into taking Mr. Cross to my apartment instead of taking the time to get a hotel room. "I wish Michael hadn't come home early and caught me with him. I wish he had let me explain and tell him everything. I wish he would have given me a chance to make it up to him; but the greatest wish I have is that I could have proven to him that he was the father of our children. "None of those wishes will ever come true, but my last wish will definitely come true. I wish you a miserable life in prison from now until the day you die and then burn in hell for eternity." "Wh...wha...what do you mean life in prison?" Oleg sputtered out in confusion. "You're going to prison and I'm sending you there. You should have been more careful when talking about your illegal activities while I was around, you sorry son of a bitch. I've told the authorities everything I know. Names, dates, monetary figures, goods, and most importantly; how to access all the records to substantiate everything I told them." "You fucking bitch!" Oleg yelled at her before springing up from his chair and grabbing Elisabeth around the throat with both hands. His rage blinded him to the point that he did not see the gleam of happiness in Elisabeth's eyes. He screamed in pain as the serrated blade of the bread knife that was on the table pierced his right eye and his hands came from around her neck and flew to his face. Elisabeth slapped the handle of the knife with all the strength she had, driving the blade all the way to the hilt before beginning to laugh and cry hysterically as Oleg quivered and jerked on the floor for a brief moment before he was still. "I did it, Michael. I made him pay for what he did to us." She was muttering when the Interpol agents who had been assigned to her finally reached the corner of the cafe. They hustled her out the backdoor into a waiting van. ************* Epilogue After five years of being under constant guard and with all of the appeals exhausted by all of the people involved in Oleg's illegal activities; Elisabeth Quinn and her three children vanished and a new family of four began living the rest of their lives in anonymity somewhere in middle class America. The End