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Bittersweet

By: Athena83



I

Brianne was in the lavender garden tending to the newly planted flora when the sound of loud boots hitting gravel caught her attention. A young man was running in her direction. The look on his face was pure anguish. His white polo shirt was covered with brown stains and his khaki pants had a hole in the knee. She could tell he'd been crying from the blotchiness under his eyes. It made her heart ache to see someone in such distress. He looked up at her and stopped suddenly. His head turned as he searched for a place to hide. The young man then saw a path leading into the shrub garden. He began to run in that direction.

Brianne jumped to her feet and silently chased the young man. He stopped at a low bench and sat. His face rested in his hands and his head shook back and forth. The boy then stood again and made angry fists. He screamed, "I hate it all! It shouldn't have happened like this! It shouldn't have been so soon! Why didn't you let me be with them? Damn everything!"

Tears flooded to Brianne's eyes, but she managed to hold them back. In a small voice she finally spoke. "Excuse me, are you all right?" 

"Who are you," he snapped at her. "Why are you following me? Did they send you?"

She stuttered, "I... my... my name is Brianne. I don't know who 'they' are. I saw your face and how sad you looked. I only wanted to see if I could help."

"Don't you even know who I am?!" he asked angrily. "You have to know who I am. You know what happened to me. You know what happened to them all."

"I'm sorry. I don't know who you are. I only recently moved here. I don't know anyone really." she answered.

"Well, I'm the Duke of Hudson. My father and mother were killed in a plane crash two days ago. Not that it should matter to a person like you. I'd like to be alone now so if you still want your job I suggest you leave and I won't tell your supervisor you disturbed me." He said cruelly.

"Oh, dear," she gasped. "I'm so very, very sorry. If you need anything..."

"I already told you to leave. That is all I need from you. Now go!" he shouted.

Brianne turned around and scampered away quickly. Tears swelled in her eyes. "What a sad boy," she sighed. Brianne walked back to the lavender garden and picked weeds out. She couldn't help but think of the miserable young man. His spiteful words hurt her to some degree, but she thought they only came from his sadness. She knew somewhat how he felt. She'd lost her own mother two years prior. Brianne couldn't imagine losing both parents at once though. Her father wasn't the most responsible man, but he always loved and cared for her the best he could.

II

Outside the wind howled and trees creaked. The breeze made the eaves on Brianne's roof shriek. The ancient tool shed swayed to and fro and finally collapsed with a loud crack. Inside the fire battled to spurt forth its warmth against the cold. Brianne sat on the couch curled up with a romance novel. "Philippe's long, strong hands reached out and grasped Nadia's waist. He pulled her towards him and said, 'Tonight will last forever, my love.' His lips pressed firmly against her cheek and slowly trailed down her neck. He reached her bosom and inhaled deeply. Philippe pushed Nadia's shirt down revealing her full breast and nipples. His mouth watered as he suckled on her round pink buttons. Nadia's gasped and then let out a low primal moan. She..."

Brianne suddenly heard a strange sound outside. It was like an animal in distress. She went to the window and looked out in her yard. On the ground under a tree was a tall figure writhing in pain. She opened the door and called out. "Hello. Who are you? Are you hurt?"

"Help... please help." The voice muttered.

"Oh dear. I'm coming. Hold on." Brianne answered. When Brianne reached the person she realized it was a tall, broad man. He was lying on the ground with a large branch near him. She stooped down and reached under his arms. Using all of her weight, she leaned back and pulled the man to his knees. "You're going to have to help me get you up. I'm not strong enough." The man used his feeble strength and pulled himself to his feet. "Lean on me and I'll guide you to the cottage." She said. 

Once inside, Brianne sat the man by the fire. "You're going to need to take those wet clothes off. I'll get some towels." She walked to the bathroom and got a few towels. When she returned to the room, she looked down and found him sitting in his boxer underwear. His strong back was facing her as the muscles flexed when he breathed. There was something familiar about him she realized. He turned to her and she gasped. It was him! The young man she'd followed into the garden a few months back. His face had lost the sad look, but in its place was a look of anger and hate.

"What are you staring at? Are you going to give me the towels or not?" he snapped at her.

"Y-yes... here," she answered. "Do you remember me?"

"I don't make it my business to remember common people like yourself." he replied.

"Oh, well I remember you. You were in the gardens a few months ago. I followed you, but you were very upset. You told me to leave you alone." she said.

He looked at her for a few moments and stated, "Oh it's you, the snoop. Well, snoop, I'm thankful for you rescuing me, but I don't wish to stay in this dwelling any longer. Do you have a phone so I can call someone to come get me?"

"Yes, I have a phone, but the lines were knocked out in the storm. I'm afraid you'll be stuck here until the storm passes. Don't worry the television says it will pass in a few days." she said in a cheery voice.

"A few days?!" he whined. "I'm stuck here overnight? Well I at least hope you have some place for me to rest. And perhaps something to eat. Caviar and champagne maybe?"

"Well I was about to have some soup and cheese sandwiches. It's all I have really. Would you care to join me?" She asked.

He sighed and said, "I guess I have no other choice if it's all you have."

She smiled weakly at him and said, "Um oh it'll be ready in a bit. Maybe you'd like to shower? It will warm you. The bathroom's down that hall. First door on the left."

"Yes. A shower. I think I will." he replied. He stood up and walked down the hall. The door closed behind him with a thud. When Brianne heard the water start to run, she turned and walked to the kitchen. "What a miserable man." she said with a deep sigh.


Soon the water turned off and the man entered the room once again. Brianne was busy putting bread and butte on the table. "The food will be out in a few minutes. Please come sit down," she said. The man sat and looked around the room while saying nothing. Finally Brianne set down a bowl in front of him. "Here you go," she said.

"Ugh," the man let out. 

Brianne ignored his disappointment and tried to start a conversation. "How did you end up out there," she asked.

"I was out in the woods alone. I was taking a walk down a path I often follow. As I traveled along I saw a strange animal out off the path. I decided to follow it and left the path. I walked and walked and then realized I was lost. Then it started to rain... hard. I just kept walking until I saw the light from your home. As I was making my way to the door, a big branch fell from one of the trees and tripped me. I was dazed for a few minutes, then I started yelling out for help. Finally you came to the door and saw me. It sure took you long enough, you know. I could have died out there. I must have been in that rain for at least two hours." he explained.

"Well you're safe now. We'll just have to make sure you don't get sick from being in that cold for so long." she said as cheerfully as possible.

"Yeah I guess," he answered. The two finished their paltry meal in silence. Brianne finally got up and started to clear the dishes from the table. She washed and dried them and then sigh as if to say "All done."

After dinner, Brianne led Daniel to her bedroom. "You may sleep here if you'd like. I know you hurt yourself out there. The bed will be good for you. I'll sleep on the couch." He looked around the room and gave a grunt of approval. He stepped in the room, turned around to her, and closed the door in her face. "If he wasn't so cute I might just give him a piece of my mind." she thought and giggled.

III

In the middle of the night Brianne awoke to the feeling of a full bladder. She walked to the bathroom and relieved herself. "I think I'll check on him." she thought. She walked into her bedroom and whispered, "Hello. Are you awake?" The man did not answer, but she heard fast panting coming from the bed. She walked over and touched his face. It was burning with fever. "Oh no!" she yelled. "Wake up! Please wake up!" He did not wake, but from the way he was breathing, Brianne knew he was in trouble.

She managed to drag him out of the bed and into the bathroom. She pulled his body into the tub and removed the layers of clothing on him. His strong muscled chest was revealed and Brianne was stuck in a daze for a few seconds. She snapped out of it, got down to his boxers and said, "Now's no time for modesty. She striped the underwear off and turn the cold water on full blast. 

She started to cry when she looked at his face and saw it grimace. She fell to the ground and started to shake him. "Please open your eyes!" she shouted, "Please!" His eyes jerked open suddenly and he looked up into her eyes. There was a moment when the both of them felt something strange flow through their bodies. The pain immediately disappeared from his face and he reached out and grabbed her into his strong muscled hug. "Thank you! Thank you!" she cried. 

They stayed in the embrace for a few minutes before she began to shake as the cold water chilled her. He released her when he realized she was cold.

"I'm sorry." he said. 

"It's okay," she replied. "I'm just glad you're all right."

She helped him out of the tub and handed him a towel. "You're naked," she said as her face flushed into a crimson color.

He looked down and saw his own bare body. "You're almost the same," he replied while pointing to her soaked nightgown. The shape of her breasts was clearly visible and her hard nipples were easily seen through the wet cloth. He smiled then grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist. She blushed then led him back to the bedroom and got both of them some dry clothes. 

Brianne helped him back into the bed and pulled the covers over him. He was still cold so she lie down in the bed next to him and rubbed her hands up and down his back trying to warm him. In a few minutes he seemed to be relaxed and warm so she tried to get up off the bed and make her way back to the couch. His head shot up and he said in a small frightened voice, " Please don't leave me." She stood still for a second, took a deep breath and laid back down in the bed with her back was towards his back. He turned over, reached out, and put his arm around her. She closed her eyes and smiled then fell into a peaceful sleep.

IV

Brianne woke to a loud boom the next morning. It was thunder from the storm. She looked down and saw an arm around her. Looking behind her she remember the events of the previous evening. Daniel had arrived at her home in the middle of the storm. They shared dinner and a conversation. Then in the middle of the night she discovered him breathing in distress. She'd put him in the cold shower to bring his fever down. He woke up and hugged her. When she put him back to bed, he begged her not to leave him alone.

A strange feeling like the one felt last night as she stared into his eyes surged through her belly. She smiled and got out of the bed. It was cold out in the living room so she started a fire then went into the kitchen to make breakfast. She turned the radio on and had a flash back to her childhood. The Partridge Family's I Think I Love You was playing. She hummed along with David Cassidy and shook her hips while she scrambled some eggs.

Daniel woke to the sound and smell of something good. He found his way to the kitchen and saw Brianne cooking and dancing. He smiled and let out a low laugh as Brianne picked up the spatula and started using it like a microphone. She started spinning around for her finale and realized Daniel was watching her. "Oh geez!" she yelled out.

He had a queer look on his face, but smiled at the same time. "Nice show," he mocked.

"Um, thanks," she replied while blushing. "Are you hungry? I made some eggs."

"Yeah sure, thanks," he said.

The two sat down and ate their modest meal while exchanging little conversation. Both didn't know how to approach what had happened to them the night before. Brianne wanted to lean over and kiss Daniel, but she didn't know if he felt the same about her. Daniel wanted to grab Brianne and hold her close, but it didn't seem like the dignified thing for him to do.

Finally Brianne broke the silence. "I'm going to take a shower now. Feel free to watch some television or to look around. I'll be back in about twenty minutes." 

She walked away towards the bathroom and Daniel got up and walked into the living room. He looked over her shelves and saw many books on herb and vegetable gardening. On the walls were many pictures of ferns and other green foliage. All of the furniture was old, but had a homey feeling to it. On her coffee table were a few scattered papers. One seemed to be lying on something. He reached over and picked the papers up. Under it was a book with the title 'Nadia's Romance.' "Interesting," he thought. He picked the book up and opened to the page with the book mark in it. He read a few paragraphs then said out loud, "Holy geez! She reads lady porn!" Suddenly from the bathroom he heard strange sounds. He walked towards the door to see if Brianne was okay.

He opened the door slightly and saw a sight that instantly made him hard. Brianne was naked in the shower with her back leaning against the wall. She had one leg raised and resting on the tub. One hand was twisting and pulling her nipple while the other played between her legs. She moaned and her face contorted. "Oh yeah," she moaned, "Daniel, touch me there. Play with my nipples. Squeeze them and lick them. Oh ah ohhhh!" Her back arched away from the wall and her face spread in a wide smile as she climaxed. 

Daniel turned away from the bathroom and went back to the living room. He sat on the couch in a dazed state. "This isn't good," he said out loud. "I'm falling too far for this girl. I can't lose control. My life is set and I can't change any of it. I have no room for her!" He heard the water turn off in the bathroom. He quickly turned the television on as Brianne came out of the bathroom.

Brianne had a towel wrapped around her hair and a thick green robe on. She smiled at him as she entered the room. She came and sat by him and pulled her legs under herself. "That was a nice shower," she stated.

"Oh yeah?" he said.

"Yeah nice and refreshing," she cooed. She reached over and wiped a wisp of hair out of his face.

"Hey, what are you doing," he snapped.

"I was just..." she tried to answer.

"You're violating my personal space!" he yelled.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked with a puzzled expression.

"I should be asking you that question!" he said.

"Last night you were so open," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Last night I was delusional. It was the fever," he replied.

"No, that's not it at all. You're closing up for some reason. What happened? I thought we were getting closer. Last night felt real to me. The way we slept so close together and all."

He quickly answered, "Like I said, I was delusional. I was just caught up in the moment. A pretty girl by my side and all. Any man would have done the same. Hell, most men would probably have gone further. Besides, you're just some common little woman. You're not good enough to be with me. I'm of a higher caste than you."

Tears flooded into her eyes and began to flood down her face. "I'm not good enough for you? You think you're so big, bold and bad! I let you, a strange man I know nothing about, come into my home. I feed you. I give you a place to rest. I save your miserable little life in the middle of the night. I take your verbal abuse and say nothing back to you. I even open my heart to you and stupidly let myself fall for you. But I'm not good enough for you? You know what, you are not good enough for me. 

Maybe you were born into money and social standing, unfortunately manners and basic human compassion can't be passed from generation to generation. So maybe I am poor and maybe I live in a small broken down cottage, but I at least have feelings and emotions. And I don't let things I have no control over rule my life!

"What's that supposed to mean?!" he said in defense.

She looked at him with hurt on her face and said, "Three months ago I met you for the first time. I could see you were hurting so I followed you. You were rude and disgusting to me, but I let myself believe it was the tragedy you'd just gone through. Last night you show up in my yard. You're still that same mean and evil boy you were then. You haven't let go of the hurt. Instead you let it mold you into some angry little thing. You need to let go of it all. It's time to move on."

"You know nothing about me, girl. Don't tell me what I need to do. You know nothing you disgusting country trash!" he bellowed back.

Tear were streaming down Brianne's face. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. "Why am I even trying. You'll never get it. You'll never understand. The storm should pass by morning. You can leave then and go back to your little superficial life!" She ran from the room and into her bedroom. She slammed the door and fell to the bed. She cried and cried until there were no tears left, then she fell asleep.

Back in the living room Daniel pounded his fists into the couch and clenched his teeth. "What an evil little harpy she is. No one insults me like that, no one!" His hands flew up to his face and tears began to swell. "Who am I kidding. She's so right. Everything she said is true. I'm a monster. I've ruined the greatest love I've ever known. What am I going to do?"

V

"Brianne... Brianne, can you hear me?" Daniel whispered into the dark room.

"What are you doing in my room," she said sharply.

"I... I wanted to... well I'm... I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

"I didn't know people in your caste apologized. Especially to poor country trash like myself," she answered mockingly.

"I didn't mean that, Brianne. I'm so sorry," Daniel began. "You're right you know. Everything you said was right. When my parents died all of my love and hope died with them. For a while I was angry with God. I asked him why he would let them die like that and not let me go, too. Then I just stopped caring. I let the anger rule my life and control everything I did. All those hurtful things I said before, that was the anger. I'm truely sorry. I'll leave you now if you want."

"No, don't go," she said. "Come back. We should talk."

"Okay," he said as he walked in the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. From this close he could see how puffy her eyes were. She'd been crying a lot he could tell. It made his heart ache to know he'd caused her so much pain.

"You know, what you said to me hurt me more than any other person ever has. All those things you said, I lay here and thought about them. I started to think they were true." she said in a shaky voice.

"No, oh God no! Don't ever think that. You're the most kind and giving person I think I've ever known. None of that was true. Please don't ever think those things about yourself. It was all said out of spite."

"Why? Why did you want to hurt me?" she asked

"There are so many things happening in my life. I wasn't looking to find true love. I don't think I have room for it." he answered.


Bittersweet



"I want you to kill me," he said.

I looked at him, expressionless, not sure if he was serious. After a year of knowing him, I still had trouble reading him at times. Sometimes he would say the most outrageous things just to entertain himself with my extreme gullibility.

"I'm serious. I've had enough. The wife and I are...well, you know. Work sucks, and I am just...tired. I want you to kill me," he said without blinking.

"And how do you propose I do that?" I asked matter-of-factly. I still figured he was kidding.

"I want you to fuck me," he said.

"Ex-fuckin-scuse me? How the hell would me fucking you... kill you?" I was getting pissed.

"Well...I haven't exactly been honest with you..." he said.

Fucking great. Just what I needed was another liar in my life. He went on to tell me that the reason he and his wife hadn't had sex in over a year, the reason his marriage was on his last legs, and the reason he was always sick was because he had a heart condition. He got all technical explaining things and I zoned out. I replayed all of our conversations in my head. I had been wanting him, needing him, since the first days we began talking. His wife wasn't taking care of him, why shouldn't I? It would have been perfect. No strings, no heart break, no clingy, jealous boyfriend...just a fuck buddy that I not only trusted but was wildly attracted to.

But...

Now this.

I was angry that he had lied to me. I was sad to think that the fun I wanted from him would mean I would never see him again. I was also still being cautious, not sure if he was just pulling my leg. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, but I held back as much as I could. He knew though. He always knew. He came over and hugged me.

"Hush, My Kitten. I know your thoughts are going wild. I want you to think about it. We'll talk tomorrow. I have to go for now," he said. He kissed my forehead and the tears slid down my cheeks as I looked up to him. My perfect friend, the only one I trusted and could tell everything, wanted me to put him in a better place by giving him something we both wanted and needed: an Earth shattering, bone rattling orgasm that would put any man in the grave, but specially him.

Fuck.

I laid there hour after hour, minute after minute. I cried, I laughed, I did shots of tequila just to try to calm myself. I sat on the porch in the rain and read through all of our little messages that meant the most to me. I realized that I had done him the biggest disservice one friend can do to another. I didn't see how badly he was hurting behind his tough exterior. I knew he was different with me. he was always nicer to me than I had seen him be with other people. He was, to put it gently, an ass to most people especially people he didn't know. I also knew that he hid things from me to some extent, but he was married. I had to expect him to shield me from some things. But I couldn't help but think I had let him down. It was no longer him that I was angry at, it was myself.

I made my decision.

Every evening after work, he made a point to stop by my place before going home. He had a key and the ability to come and go as he pleased whether I was home or not. My place was his safe place. He knew I had nothing but open arms for him. Mi casa, Su casa. I never felt the need to entertain him. He belonged there. This evening was different.

When he walked in, I was fresh from the bath and smelled of a light vanilla. My red hair was in long ringlets and waves. I think it looked prettier than it ever had when he had seen me. I wore a cute little white sundress with pink flowers adorning it here and there in their own low key, dainty kind of way. The dress flowed in the right places, and it hugged in the right places. I felt like a little girl. His little girl.

He stood in the doorway for a second and just stared. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes before he closed the door behind him. He came to me and held me in his arms tighter and sweeter than he ever had. I didn't think it was possible. He was always so good to me. I had to be strong. I couldn't break down.

His hands moved from my back, along my arms, and up to my wrists. He grasped them firmly and I knew the rest of the night would be perfect. He kept his lips on mine, kissing and sucking on my tongue as he slowly moved me back towards the wall. When there was no more room to move, he pinned my wrists above my head with one hand making my back arch towards him. His other hand went to my breasts. They looked so ripe and delicious jutting towards him, flowing over the top of my pretty little dress. His mouth followed my neckline down to my nipples. He had pulled my dress top down with his perfect perfect fingers in anticipation of his lips wanting to follow.

I had no words. He had taken my breath away with the grasp of my wrists that he still had a hold on. I could barely breathe. When he finally let go, my arms came down to cradle his head as he suckled my breasts before making his way back up my neck to my lips. He bent just slightly and moved his hands under my ass to lift me against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him tightly. I wanted so badly to be one with him right at that moment.

"I'm going to let you down, but don't think you're going anywhere, My Love," he growled.

He slowly slid me from his waist back down the wall till I was standing on my toes. He grabbed my bicep and whipped me around until I was chest to the wall, pinned me with his body, lifted my skirt, and pulled my panties to the side. His fingers rubbed the length of my slit, front to back, as he spread my wetness on my lips and clit. I couldn't help but be aroused. A moan escaped my lips and he laughed. He rubbed my clit faster, slower, back and forth until I was ready to climb the wall. I tried reaching for him, but couldn't. With his arm wrapped around me, he continued rubbing my clit as his other hand came from behind and slowly he pushed a finger into my sopping wet pussy. My whole body began to shake. I needed him so badly. He moved that finger in circles making a wet, slippery sound inside of me. When he slipped another finger in, I felt my pussy tighten up on him and he moaned.

"You are going to feel so good on my cock, Kitten."

He fucked my pussy with his fingers as he kept me pinned against the wall. I could feel my wetness soaking the panties that were pulled to the side and slowly dripping down my thigh. When he pushed yet another finger so slowly into my ass, I came so hard I could barely stand. He held me up as he continued finger fucking my ass and pussy until my waves of pleasure subsided. When I finally slowed down, he scooped me up and took me to the bedroom.

For hours he licked me, pet me, rubbed and sucked on me. He made me cum and he made me squirt time and time again. Each time, he would soothe and calm me with his tongue. Not once in those hours did he let me suck on him. Not once did he slide his cock into my pussy though I begged for it like a little girl. He looked so amazing naked and hard, precum glistening on his cock. He was all I had wanted from day one.

Finally, the time had come. He laid atop of me, kissing me sweetly and looking in my eyes. Slowly he slid his cock deep inside of me, a moan escaped his lips as he kept his eyes locked on mine. At that moment, I couldn't have loved him more. He made love to me for quite some time before turning me over to fuck me hardcore. I was so afraid he would leave this world while he was behind me, but he held on. He fucked me so hard, I was afraid the neighbors would call the cops from my screams. Ass, pussy, ass, pussy. He pummeled me till I knew I would be throbbing yet numb for days. I couldn't stop cumming for him. It was like he released everything within me that had been pent up for so many years, especially this last year waiting for him.

After one more quivering, screaming orgasm, he laid down beside me.

"Ride me so I can suck on your tits and look into those beautiful eyes, Love."

I climbed aboard and rode him slowly while he sucked on my nipples and squeezed by breasts. I could feel him growing just a little more as I tightened on his cock. I could feel him throbbing. I could feel every ridge, every vein. I could feel that perfect, smooth head deep inside me. But mostly, with my hand on his chest, I could feel his heart changing pace.

"I'm going to cum baby, ride me harder. Take me to the end!"

Tears were running down my cheeks and landing on his chest and abs as I fucked him hard, my tits swinging in his face, my eyes never leaving his. I could feel his body tightening and see not only pleasure but pain on his face. I couldn't stop. I was so close to that final Earth shattering orgasm that the demon inside me took over. I rode him even harder as we screamed and moaned together. He thrust his hips up into me putting his cock where it hadn't touched before and with that we both came in waves. I watched as tears came to his eyes and he whispered, "I love you."

With that, he was gone. I collapsed on top of him still gripping him with my raw and well fucked pussy. I held him in my arms as I kissed his lips. 

"Goodbye my friend... I love you...goodbye."

When finally I climbed off of him, I covered him with the bed sheet and called 911. For the next couple hours, I answered questions as my friend was taken away by a silent van. That was the last I saw of him. I had enough respect not to go to the funeral. I could never face his wife whether she knew or not, and I didn't want to know if I had broken her heart.

Today, I got a card in the mail. On the outside was a little bluebird on a branch. Inside were only the words, "Thank you, you set me free. I know he is happy now."

I could only hope that he was. 



Bittersweet



This work of fiction is a product of the author's imagination. The characters, incidents or dialog are not to be construed as real. No one should publish or post this story anywhere else without the author's written permission. This story does NOT contain any explicit sex.

The length of this story is around 2850 words and takes up 1 page on Lit. 

Tags used on this story are: Memories, Dog, Death, best friend, depression, fiction, green eyes, loneliness, time passed.

This was difficult for me to write and proof. Please forgive any typos and misspellings that I missed.

*****

He walked into the bar, one among a herd or a dozen or so men. He was the one that wasn't barking and boasting and grunting as he walked, alone among many. He imagined that he could be in an African savannah among a group of adolescent male baboons, all trying to convince themselves of their maleness.

They came from the last flag-ball game of their informal league. The air smelled of snow, the first real snow of the year if you didn't count the dusting from last week that lasted on the ground for twenty minutes. 

Even if it was just flag-ball there was always lots of contact. He played in the offensive line and released all his frustration, rage and tensions shoving against the guys in the defensive line.

Now they came, as per tradition, to this so-called pub. He'd never been in an English pub, but he was pretty sure they weren't like this. Even with the fake diamond pane windows set into the concrete walls with lights behind it to simulate daylight in this windowless room.

He sat at the bar, nursing the single draw with a glass of water on the side and thought about ... things. He had his last paycheck in his pocket and wondered why he lasted as long as he did. That prick of an art director. That asshole didn't know graphic design from a hole in the ground. When he told the prick just that he felt sooo good, so relaxed. He went and sat in his cube and actually started working, working on his own idea. It worked for a full fifteen minutes. Until the personnel manager called him to her office and handed him his final paycheck.

When he got back to his cube all his personal possessions were boxed and ready to go. The other drones just concentrated on their screens and ignored him as if he had a fatal disease. Not a smile, a high five or any other acknowledgment. Except for the rueful half smile with a lifted eyebrow that Tony offered. But then Tony had been wanting to bed him since the divorce.

Another swig of beer, another swallow of water. Divorce. Well it could have been worse, a lot worse. Thanks to his sister. Well that was what big sisters who were lawyers did. Not legal advice, but by reading his wife before they married. Knowing he would probably fall for the bitch, his sister hadn't told him about the extra insurance policies their parents had. She split the policy they both had jointly, but kept the money in trust on the individual policies that each parent had on each of them.

The bitch, she tried to take the house. The house that had been in his family since after the civil war. And take it along with the family farm, or what was left of it. At least she didn't get either. His thought slipped into the past. He had the room on the North East corner of the upstairs of the square two story house. Built in the classic American Foursquare style it had been home to generations of his family. And generations of dogs.

Lad. An interesting combination of breeds, at least one of which pointed and another retrieved. Poor Laddie started out as Lady, named that first day by his older sister. She brought the wet, muddy half grown dog in from the road, picked up from a ditch as she walked in from where her school bus dropped off.

Poor Lady or Laddie had been dumped off by some townie. He could hear the parents telling the children how he would find a good family on the nearest farm and be happy and run free over the fields. Lad was the anomaly that didn't starve to death or get killed and eaten by coyotes.

That dumb piece of miss matched fur was about a year old when Sis brought him in. Dad was against it, and so was Mom, but Sis had her way, as usual. And while he came to love the dog, he had to live with yet new tortures and humiliations that his mad sister thought up. No-one at grade school, junior high or high school ever bullied him. They either knew his sister gave it to him worse at home, or were afraid of his sister who declared that he was hers and hers alone to torture.

The worse was with the dog. Not the dog, but the way Sis used the dog. He was six when she brought Lady in. After the folks agreed to keep it, Dad had to explain that Lady was really not a lady, and had to be called Laddie, which shortly was shortened to Lad.

Not long after that Sis started feeding Lad one piece of his food at a time. Lad picked it carefully out of her hand and crunched down on it, wagged his tail and looked eagerly for more. He used to sit on the floor next to them and watch. She would keep it up for at least a quarter of the food the bowl.

One day, when neither parent was there, she pushed the piece of kibble at him instead of the dog. Held it there with that look in her eyes. Her eyes. They were different from everyone else in the family. He had green, with wavy dark auburn hair, just like grandpa. Everyone else had either pale blue or green eyes with orange red curly, or strawberry blond hair.

Hers were dark dark blue, with straight black hair. Dad used to say there was a Welsh woman in their ancestry, and sometimes the Welsh came through all the Scottish genes. He had seen her eyes when her rage came through, They seemed to turn black and he couldn't stand to look at them, or her. 

That afternoon, Dad in the field, Mom out at work or shopping, she fed the dog a piece of kibble, then gave him a piece. She held it there, in front of his mouth, pressed to his lips and didn't say anything. Her eyes narrowed and turned icy. He trembled and finally opened, chewed and swallowed. Her smile was wide and loving.

Every time from then on, when Mom and Dad weren't there, he got to savor the taste of dog kibble. She tired of the game when she got to high school. 

Lad turned into a great dog. Smaller and lighter than a lab, with long legs and medium long fur, he pointed. Rabbits, pheasant, mice. It didn't matter. But Dad trained him. For several years He and Dad would hunt Pheasant in the fall and winter, and Lad would always point, and when the bird was down, would bring it back to the boy, regardless of who shot it.

The hunting stopped after Dad had his heart attack. But he recovered and they would go out in the fields with Lad. Wait till Lad pointed, then clap hands and off went the bird. Half the time He'd throw a Yellow Tennis Ball, and Lad would gleefully chase it down and drop it back at His feet.

He was Lad's favorite. Lad had always gone to his room to sleep, much to the chagrin of Sis. When Lad was big enough he would jump into his bed and spend most of the night curled up by his feet. Lad also would meet him coming home from school, and eventually came to the corner where the gravel road their house was on met the main road, a little less than half a mile from home, then walk He and Sis back home.

He grew up with that dog, shared it's meals, however unwillingly, and loved it. Sis left it alone by the time she started high school, about two years after she brought it home, she still petted it, but gave up the pretense that it was hers. Everyone knew it was His. 

Lad got older as he grew up. He must have been about six when Sis brought the dog home, and by the time He graduated from high school Lad was getting on. A little slower, but just as loving and eager. After high school he joined the National Guard, to help pay for college. He spent a little more than six months that summer training, and when he got back Lad was all over him. He'd missed the start of the school year, which probably a good thing. By thanksgiving there were rumors they would be deployed after Christmas.

He worked on the farm, Lad at his side, as if the dog knew He wasn't going to be around for long. And in the Cold bitter wind of late January he took Lad out into the corn stubble for a last point and clap and tennis ball throw. Lad was slower and once never found the ball.

The deployment was for sixteen months, and he got home in late May of the next year. If Lad had been eager to see him after his Basic training, he was ecstatic to see him after that. But He saw that Lad only found him by the sound of His voice, and His smell. And Lad was limping. There was a spot of short hair on one side.

They hadn't told Him about the cancer, or the blindness.

He took another pull on his beer, another swig of water. A girl sat on the bar stool next to him. Blond, blue eyed, tall, athletic. Probably a college kid, wearing a sweatshirt with the Woodston College logo on it. He thought to himself that he would probably win a bet that her last name would end in "son" or "sson" or "sen", or maybe it would have two a's together in the middle or beginning of her name.

His family had come to the area not long after it was settled by Europeans or European descended people, but being Scots they were in the minority in this area full of Scandinavians. His first kiss was with a Norwegian girl, Nancy Toloffson, the first soft breast he had felt was Janet Olsen. Other than Lad his best friend was Jeff Aagaard. 

His parents had died just four years ago, not six months after he had started dating Janelle. They hadn't liked her, but tried to hide it. His sister didn't. Sis had told him at the funeral that he shouldn't marry her, but also said that he probably would. And he did. He should have known something was wrong with Jan when she asked about insurance money a week after the funeral.

And sure enough Sis, who was the executor, sent him a check a week later. It had been a car crash, they were on the way to visit Sis in Iowa City, and a Truck had T-boned them. It was instant the doctors said. As if that would make it better.

So he married the bitch. She started whining about this and that and everything else the first month. She insisted on spending nearly all the insurance money on a honeymoon cruise and stay in Cozumel. It was fun. He knew she wasn't a virgin, and neither was he, barely. And it was great. But there was always something she found to complain about.

He had started thinking divorce after a year. One Thanksgiving they were over at Sis's place, his brother was great and ignored the jabs that the bitch threw at everything. But Sis didn't. He saw her eyes get narrow and darken more than once, and Ron, his brother in law, saw it too, and got pale. He wondered what hell Sis would visit on Ron when no-one was around. Maybe he was a masochist. 

The girl next to him gave up trying to talk to him, and finally left, heading for the sounds of his rowdy team-mates. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked older than he should. More tired. Well he couldn't go back to farming, he and Sis held the land together and leased it out. She took care of everything, and sent him a check every fall after harvest. At least he had a place to live in that old house so full of memories.

He sensed someone else slip into the seat next to him. His mind drifted back over the years as he wondered why he thought of sad things when things weren't going well.

He had gotten a job in town after he got back from his deployment. Still living in his old room, Lad now had a step stool to get into the bed, and couldn't go through the night without needing to go outside. So he would get up at the first whine and follow the dog's slow progress downstairs and out the kitchen door. He didn't go as far as he used to.

He took Lad to the vet that last time. After the examination he knew from the Vet's expression what the verdict was. He asked the Vet for pain killer, was told it would help some, but not completely. The Vet had wanted to ... well that wasn't going to happen, not inside some antiseptic building that Lad hated going into.

When he got home Dad didn't have to be told, Mom petted Laddie on the head and busied herself in the kitchen. He unhooked the leash and dad gave him the forty-five that grandpa had brought back from World War two.

It was a short walk, past the old windbreak of planted rows of cedar and spruce, and into the corn stubble, past the first field into the oaks on top of the hill. They used to spend a lot of time here, Lad chased the squirrels while He worked on a fort, or a tree-house. Or leaned on the glacier scared boulder and watched clouds while Lad lay against him.

Lad must have known, and he was ready somehow, the look in his eyes said it all. The sigh as he lay down without even a half circle at the top of rise. Just suddenly slumped down and put his head on his paws told a story of weariness and pain. He knelt and scratched Lad behind the ears. Good ol Lad, good boy, good friend. Wait for me.

Dad came up with a couple of shovels after it was over. They dug off to the side of a large rock between two oaks, looking over the meadow and down to the little creek. When it was done they moved another rock over as a headstone. Dad was quiet, his eyes a little misty. He had tears dripping down his cheeks.

They stood there a while. Then, looking at the other rock, next to Lad's, Dad said that 'they' might get to know each other, and wait for 'us'. He realized that He wasn't the first one to go through this misery. He remembered Dad's stories about Suzie.

Mom wasn't in the kitchen when they got back, the dishwasher was open and a broken plate lay on the floor. Dad asked him to clean it up and suggested that Lad's bowls be taken to the barn. Dad left the kitchen to head upstairs to look after Mom.

Tears filled his eyes as he re-lived that day. He took another sip of beer. Someone else sat beside him. She smelled of cedar, or spruce. He'd smelled that before, somewhere.

After Lad things sped up in his life. College, a job, grad school, the bitch. The divorce. Then the huge check from Sis, the note with it about not telling him about the other insurance policies and the settlement from the truck driver's insurance company and employers. Seems he had been drunk at the time of the accident. And Sis was a lawyer in a large firm.

So losing the job wasn't the end of the world. He could get by for a while, if he was careful, perhaps for a very very long time. Forever? And he could free-lance. He'd done it before. And Woodston College had a graphic design program, hadn't someone mentioned to him last month they might be looking for another instructor? 

Spruce, that was it. Who was it that used to wear that? Jane? No, Janet. Janet Olsen, that's what she smelled like that night in high school. Wonder what happened to her? 

"Ian? Ian MacKrimmon? Is that you? Goodness! I haven't seen you since we dated in high school, ooffa."



Bittersweet



"I understand. There's not a place in your life for me. So I want you to give it back to me." she said.

"Give you what back?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

"My heart. Somewhere between last night and this morning you stole it." she cried.

"Oh, Brianne..." he replied. He then reached his hand out and cupped her face. She pressed her cheek against his hand as a tear rolled down it. He moved forward and kissed her tear. He then trailed kisses across her face and towards her lips. Their lips finally met and that familiar feeling of love surged through their bodies and towards their mouths. Brianne gently let her tongue slip into his mouth. Their tongues twisted in each others mouths as they both softly moaned.

Daniel rolled onto his back and pulled Brianne's body onto of his own. He wrapped his hands around her back and began to massage it. She responded by moaning loudly into his mouth. He reached under her shirt and pulled it off revealing two round breasts with hard nipples. He broke their kiss and licked his way down her neck and chest. He grabbed a breast and gently suckled her nipple. She let out a moan and said, "Oh yes, Daniel. That's so wonderful."

He leaned forward and rested her bottom on his thighs. He sat up and tried to untie her robe. "No!" she gasped. "Please don't!"

"But... why not?" he asked.

"I don't want our love to last just one night. I want you for all time. I know I can't have you and I refuse to torture myself for the rest of my life while dreaming of your body holding me tight each night." she said in a weak voice.

"I understand," he said as his voice trailed off.

"Thank you," Brianne answered. They again began kissing and holding each other. Both cried while they held each other. They wiped away the other's tears and never broke their embrace. In the end they fell asleep in each others arms.

To be continued...



Bittersweet



Proceed to the rooftop without attracting attention.

~When that security camera moves, I should be able to make it to the stairwell.~

The figure dressed in all black crouched low and kept his back pressed against the wall. He slipped through the door marked 'Stairs' just as a camera hanging from the ceiling began a sweeping arc in his direction. He put a hand on the door and guided the heavy metal structure soundlessly home.

~Now, up 6 flights and I'm good to go.~

"Tony."

No answer.

"Tony."

Louder and still no response.

"TONY!"

Pause Game

"Shit baby, I'm just about to complete this level." Anthony reached for the controller to restart the game he had reflexively paused when interrupted by his wife.

"Tony, we need to talk"

"Come on, Mo. I'm on a roll."

"I don't care if you're on a piece of hot water cornbread, this is important." Monique stood over her husband; hands on her hips, with a look that would make Satan himself scurry and hide.

"OK, OK. It's important. Just let me finish this level and we'll talk about whatever you want."

"Now, Tony."

"Fine, baby. I can play and talk at the same time."

"I need your full attention, dammit! This is serious. It's about us."

"Us. Right. I'm listening. For real – look." Anthony gave her a brief glance to make sure she was watching.

Options – Sound – Off.

"I'm all ears," Said Tony.

"Fine, Mr. Multitask. Tell me why we don't make love anymore."

Anthony hardly skipped a beat. 

Continue Mission? – Yes

"Mo, you're tripping. We still make love."

~Two more flights and I'll be on the roof.~

"It's been over a month. Don't you consider that odd?"

Agent has cleared the roof. Level 9 Complete. Continue Mission?

"Yes!" But Anthony was talking to the game and not his wife. She lowered herself next to him on the sofa, believing he was ready to talk.

"God, Tony, I'm so glad to hear you say that. I know we can make it like it used to be."

New Objective: Find your way to NSA headquarters.

"But I don't know how to get there." Again he was talking to the game and Monique mistook it for a reply.

"Neither do I, baby, but we can make our way together. We can get over this. We'll be okay."

Anthony looked up confused, "Huh? Who's coming over today?"

Oh, Lord. All hell was about to break loose. He saw it on Monique's face.

"Never mind, you limp-dicked piece of shit." Monique stormed out of the room.

"Mo, wait." Anthony made an attempt to go after her.

"Wait for what? I'm sorry of waiting on your sorry ass." Monique continued her stalk from the room.

Anthony figured there was no use talking to her when she was like this. I'll finish another couple levels and she'll be all calmed down, ready to settle this thing, he thought.

Monique grabbed her keys and purse off the foyer table and went out to her car. She started driving, and realized suddenly she had no idea where she was headed. She shook her head to clear it. I will not cry because of that asshole. Fuck him, she thought. I don't need to put up with his shit. I'm not Vanessa Williams, but I'm doing ok for middle age. She decided to find a spot to sit and think and drove to her favorite coffee shop.

Once inside she ordered a rich white hot chocolate complete with peppermint stir stick and settled at a table near the large window. She was licking the nutmeg-laced whipped cream from her full lips when she heard....

"Whoever he is, just whisper his name and I'll find him and kill him."

"What?" Monique turned around to see an attractive, dark-hued brother at the next table in the midst of a stage whisper.

"Whoever put that scowl on your pretty face deserves to die screaming." He was looking straight ahead, out the window, but was clearly speaking to her.

Monique turned in her seat to face him full on. "Look, I'm not in the mood to flirt."

The man moved to the chair opposite hers, grateful he no longer needed to crane his neck to appreciate her. He looked around conspicuously and leaned in, again speaking in whispers, "I'm not flirting. I'm as serious as AIDS. He needs his ass kicked."

"I'd have to agree about the ass kicking," said Monique "But you're wrong.... you are definitely flirting." Monique took another sip from her mug, trailing her pink tongue along her upper lip to remove a whipped cream mustache.

"I admit to the flirting. Now, if you'll stop licking those gorgeous lips of yours and tell me the dirty bastard's name, I'll get to work." He reached over and blotted the corner of her mouth with a napkin, even though the sight of the white creamy substance on her lips was a vision.

Monique was embarrassed by the simple gesture. "Thanks, um......"

"Richard. And please, no Dick jokes."

Monique raised an eyebrow. "I don't know you well enough for dick jokes."

Richard laughed at the double entendre. "Well, you certainly are doing a good job of not flirting."

Monique extended her hand and smiled for the first time that day. "Touché. I'm Monique, but my friends call me Mo."

"So what should I call you?" Richard still had her hand in his and waited anxiously for a reply.

"Since we've already discussed D/dicks, I'd have to go with Mo."

"Mo, it's a pleasure to meet you." Richard touched his lips to the back of Monique's hand. Not so much a kiss, but an intimate acquainting of his mouth and her skin. He hoped there would be an opportunity to further that relationship. 

"Mo, let's take a walk. You can let off some steam and we can talk if you like." He stood up, still with her hand in his and turned for the door. 

They were on the sidewalk when she realized he never expected her to object. He moved to the outside of the pavement, putting a protective hand on the small of her back and took off down the street. Monique had no idea where they were going and didn't care. It felt good to be in the strong arms of a man that desired her. 

"Would you like to talk about your husband, Mo?"

"How did you....?" She sputtered.

"That satellite dish you call a wedding ring kind of gave you away."

Monique looked down at the large diamond she wore on her left hand, remembering when Anthony proposed. She thought he would always be that attentive, loving, excited man that delighted in having her as his own. But 8 years had passed and she was no longer the center of his universe. Let's be honest, she wasn't even in orbit.

Richard saw the mask of pain that pulled Monique's otherwise lovely features into the tortured likeness he had seen in the coffee shop. "That's OK, beautiful. I know it hurts too much to talk about it right now. In fact, let's not think about that at all." Richard gave her hand a gentle squeeze and pulled her along at a faster pace.

They were nearly jogging when Richard came to an abrupt stop and Monique almost ran into him. "We're here," he said. He opened the door and held it for her. She looked at him, wondering what he had in mind. He nudged his head in the direction of the door with a mischievous smile and Monique's curiosity got the better of her. She stepped inside and stood still until her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Richard left her just inside the door with an "I'll be right back" and she took notice of her surroundings. She was in a pool hall. All sorts of men were leering at her as she became conscious of the fact she was the only woman in the room. 

Richard returned with a tray of balls and cue sticks and held out a hand for Monique. She took it and he led her to a table in the corner of the room. He was secretly proud of the fact all the men in the place were eyeing the woman following him. How in the world could any man not do his best to keep her happy? He put it out of his head and got ready to have some fun.

"Alright lady, this is the game of billiards. The white one is the cue ball and that is the most important ball. It's the one that hits all the other balls."

"Richard, shut up before you end up looking like a dick." Monique placed her cue stick on the dust-free green felt and pushed it a few times to check the way it rolled. When it did not appear to be warped, she picked it up and held it eye level looking down its shaft as if lining up a shot in a sniper's rifle.

"Ah, I see you play." Richard laughed and shook his head. He should've known she'd have some edge to her.

"Usually with my own stick, but this impromptu game is just for fun, so it can't hurt."

"Just for fun? We can add a wager if you like. Let's see." Richard looked up exaggeratedly scratching his chin. "If you win, we head to a mutually agreed upon restaurant for dinner. If I win, we order room service much later tonight."

"That's a high wager, there Dick. How good are you?" 

"I haven't played in years. I'm very rusty." 

"OK then, let's make it the best of 5. Nine ball, of course"

"Of course," But Monique was already placing the balls in the requisite diamond pattern inside the triangle rack.

"I'll spot you the break, Big Man."

Oh shit, Richard thought. And he was right to think so. Monique cleared the table twice in a row when she gave him a piteous look and started making terrible shots.

"You're missing on purpose. Don't patronize me, woman. If I win it will be fair and square. Bring your best game."

"You asked for it, Dick." Monique put some English on the cue ball and gave him a pretty smile. He thought even if he lost, that smile was worth it. But he didn't lose. 

He won the next three straight. The last shot seeming to take place in slow motion. The yellow-striped 9 ball fell into the corner pocket in watch-it-later-on-ESPN fashion. 

As he was taking a bow, Monique pushed him off balance. He righted himself and blew her a kiss. "Come on now, don't be a sore loser. I'll let you pick the hotel."

"Hotel, my ass...you hustled me. What was that mess about being 'rusty'?"

"I am rusty. You won the first two, didn't you?" Richard turned his back on her playful scowl and gathered the equipment.

When they were back outside, Monique looked up at the dark sky, realizing the time, and wondered if Tony was worried about her. Suits his ass, she thought.

Reading her mind, Richard said, "If you'd like to get some revenge, I'm at your service, Ma'am. Besides there is a little wager of room service later this evening."

"Yeah, Richard - about that silly bet...."

"I know, I know. But a brother can hope, right?"

"Jesse told you to 'Keep Hope Alive'." Monique wringed her hands, putting off what she had to say next. "I enjoyed playing pool and I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but I think it's time I made my way back home."

"Yeah, well, OK." Richard did not want to see her go, but she WAS married.

"Thanks again, Richard. I had a very nice time." Monique leaned over and put her arms around his neck. She planned on it being a hug you give a supportive friend to thank them for letting you vent. But Richard knew it was the first and last chance he would have to hold her, and he was going to take advantage of the occasion. He took her in his arms and pulled her close.

Their bodies pressed against each other and he felt her large breasts compress on his chest. She was 5'9" to his 6'2" and they molded together perfectly, her head fitting into the curve of his neck. He stroked her back and pushed her lower body closer still. He squeezed her waist as his hands traveled from her hips to her shoulders and back again. Monique let out a sigh. Damn he felt good, she thought.

Richard locked his hands above her ass and looked down at Monique. "I'm sorry, but I had to know what you felt like in my arms. And you feel better than I expected. I wish you didn't have to go."

The mixture of guilt and desire kept Monique silent.

Richard focused on her expressive brown eyes and oddly, thought of Jesse Jackson. He watched her mouth as he leaned in for a kiss. Monique tilted her head, acquiescing. He nibbled on her bottom lip, waiting for her to pull back. When she didn't, he gently pushed his tongue into her warm, wet mouth. Their tongues entwined slowly, unhurriedly, as Richard moved a hand to her cheek. He increased the pressure of his tongue and Monique matched it, hiking up the intensity of the kiss. She held onto his shoulders and met his passion, agreeably. Both of Richard's hands framed her face as he kissed her as if he were dying, and this was the last taste of a woman's mouth he would ever know. He ran a hand down her neck and to the front of her blouse. His hand slipped easily under the fabric and he placed it over her heart. It was racing, as was his.

Monique stepped back, pulling away from him. Her lips were swollen from their kisses and if possible, she looked even more desirable than before. "Richard?"

"Yes, baby?"

"I think we should get off the street."

For a second time, he clasped her hand and began walking without waiting on her reply. He assumed she was ready, and in fact, she was. During the kiss, she had waged a battle with her inner self. The way she saw it, she had denied herself pleasure for far too long. Here was a man that wanted her. He was offering her one night of passion, and why shouldn't she accept? There was no telling when pleasure would next find her. Wherever this road led, she would see it to its end. She owed herself that much.

They walked silently, each afraid to speak. Surely the doubts they were feeling would bubble to the surface if they attempted conservation. So they did not. Looks, touches and sighs of pure desire permeated the walk to the hotel. 

Richard deposited Monique in the bar of the hotel's lobby and made his way to the front desk. "Please wait for me." He didn't want her to escape while he checked in, but he wanted to save her any embarrassment the process might cause.

Monique nodded, unsure of her own voice in his presence. She watched Richard walk away from her and second-guessed herself for the umpteenth time. I deserve pleasure, she thought. But what she needed was courage. She ordered a cognac and sat straighter on the stool. When it arrived, she sipped the amber liquid and closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the liquor have its way with her.

That's how Richard found her. Her eyes closed with her head tipped back, the glass warming in her hand. Her long neck exposed and waiting to be kissed; her breasts straining against her blouse. He walked up to her silently and put a hand in the small of her back. The gesture didn't startle Monique, as she was just thinking of his hands on her body. When the touch materialized, it was as if she'd willed it. 

Richard placed a bill on the bar and took the large, bowl-shaped glass from Monique's hand. He led her to the bank of mirrored elevators at the opposite side of the lobby and stood behind her. They made eye contact in the smoky glass and Monique smiled. He could tell she was a bit nervous, and vowed to make her feel comfortable. He would do anything to please her. Anything.

He held her hand during the ride up to their floor and down the long hallway. He stopped in front of their door and gave the cognac back to Monique. He used the key card and then turned to look into her eyes. She hadn't said anything since they were on the street. "Monique, I want you to be sure. We are not entering this room to watch free cable. I want to feel you. I want be inside you. I want you to know true pleasure and I want to be the one to take you there. Is that what you want, baby?" Monique took a sip for courage and licked her lips. Richard watched the action of her tongue and waited.

"Yes, I want that. I want you."

It was as if she'd told him he'd won the lottery. An unrestrained smile stretched his handsome face and he pulled her into the room. The door shut heavily as they walked toward the king-sized bed. Monique reached out to turn off the bedside lamp when she felt his strong arm on her wrist. 

"Don't do that. I want to see you." Monique obliged and let her hand fall to her side. Richard took the glass from her and put it on the table. He tangled his hands in her short curly hair and pulled. Her head went back and he licked and nibbled at her neck, which was left open to him. He moved to her collarbone and sucked on the knobby ridge as she let out a soft moan. He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse as she reached for his belt, both of them clumsy with excitement. Her arms were getting in the way of his undressing her and he hastily pushed them aside.

He needed to see her. He gave up with the small buttons and pulled the blouse up and over her head, throwing it aside. Monique heeled off her shoes and stood in her bare feet as he undid the clasp on her 36DD bra and pulled it free from her arms. She was afraid her large, pendulous breasts would turn him off. He reverently placed a hand underneath each globe of flesh and watched her substantial nipples harden. "You're beautiful."

Richard lowered his head and took the generous brown nubbin into his mouth and sucked gently. The feeling of the areola crinkling under his lips excited him further. He pulled his head back to adore her other nipple while twirling the wet point of flesh his mouth had just left. Monique put her hand on the back of his head and watched his mouth move over her breasts. As good as it felt; it was incredible to watch. 

He released her and began to work on the button of her jeans. As he lowered them he noticed the V of her pussy. The crotch of her panties were wet and pulled into the folds of her sex. He stroked Monique through the flimsy material as he stood up to kiss her, tasting the smoky remnants of cognac. He assaulted her mouth; no longer able to contain the craving he had for her. His fingers moved up and down her wetness until the warmth of her skin was begging to be touched. He moved the thin fabric to the side and stroked her smooth lips that were coated with the evidence of her arousal. 

Monique reached down to feel the bulge in the front of his pants and he thought of how unfair it was that he was still fully dressed. He stepped forward until Monique felt the bed at the back of her knees and pushed her down on top of it. She raised herself on her elbows and watched him use his tongue to clean her juices from his fingers. 

He removed his clothes slowly, hoping she appreciated the countless hours he spent in the gym. He felt like every workout he'd ever had was for this moment, this woman. He wanted so much to please her with his body. The lust he saw in her eyes was more than enough reward. When he lowered his boxers to free his erection, Monique unconsciously moved her hands to her own crotch. She placed her hand under her panties and fingered her clit when she saw those beautiful 9 inches, all for her.

He moved next to the bed and kissed one perfectly pedicured toe. He slowly moved up her ankle, her calf, the inside of her thigh. His tongue tracing circles from her knee to her wet pussy. The smell of her pleasure was enthralling. The musky scent of her had him ready for penetration that very second, but he wanted to wait. Dammit, he had to wait. This was for her. He pulled her panties over her hips as she raised her pelvis to aid him. He smiled when he saw the glistening lips of her exposed vagina. 

He spread her legs with his shoulders as he moved his face closer to her visibly excited slit. He parted her outer lips and placed his tongue at the base of her cunt. He lapped her pussy with flat broad strokes until her taste permeated his tongue. He licked and nibbled both sets of lips as if they were her delectable mouth. He pretended her clit was her tongue and dueled with it until she was panting. He inserted a finger and then two inside of her and slid them in and out, pumping his hand while his mouth continued to work on her clit.

Monique moaned loudly and began to thrash on the bed. She gripped his head with both hands and pushed herself deeper into his mouth. Richard placed a hand underneath her ass attempting to hold her bucking hips in place. Monique's thighs quivered violently as Richard tongued her clit, alternating between licks, bites and an excruciatingly enticing suck. It was more than Monique could take. There was no way she could hold back even if she wanted to. Her moans turned to shouts and then screams of delight.




Bittersweet



Richard's hand moved from her ass up to her back, which arched in an unbelievable curve as her orgasm took control of her body. Her vaginal walls constricted on his thick fingers as he continued to supported her lower back to give free reign to the spasms that racked her. Eventually, her shoulders lowered to the bed and her hips sank into the moist coverlet beneath her. 

Richard traveled up her body kissing her heated skin and leaving a trail of her cum that he could follow later. When he saw the look in her hooded eyes, he was lost.

"Oh God, Richard. I - "

"Shh." He placed a finger over her mouth and she cut the sentence short. 

No one had ever made her cum like that. She had to tell him how unbelievably wonderful he made her feel. "But, I have to --."

Richard moved his mouth over hers and thrust his tongue inside. He did not want this beautiful, responsive woman spoiling it by speaking of what they shouldn't be doing. Of how wrong it was. He had never had a woman react so honestly before and he wanted the evening to continue for as long as possible.

He reached over and took hold of her left hand. With a not so gentle tug, he removed her rings and placed them on the table. Monique started to protest but was quieted upon seeing the controlled anger on Richard's face.

"I want no sign of that unappreciative idiot on your body. Tonight you belong to me. Tonight, you're mine."

They kissed passionately as Richard pushed his knee against her thigh, causing Monique to open herself to him. He rubbed his hard dick against her sodden cunt and Monique let out a moan that gripped his insides and made him forget about being patient. He entered her in one long fluid stroke. The 'o' of surprise at being stretched and full that shown on Monique's face was priceless. She gasped and held her breath. Richard closed his eyes to savor the moment. She was extraordinarily hot and wet. Her pussy was tight and fit around him like a second skin. The smooth walls making him pulse with exhilaration. He would have to concentrate or he would cum quickly. 

Monique wrapped her legs around his back and clawed at the sheets. Her head reclining to the side as she bit her bottom lip. She whimpered in ecstasy, an overwhelming feeling of fulfillment rumbling within her. 

"Let me hear you, don't hold it." Monique let go of her lip and moaned in earnest. She'd always been embarrassed by how loud she got during sex, but it seemed to drive Richard on, so she stopped caring. If only she knew the effect it had on him. The sound of her sexy encouragement caused a vibration to begin in his pelvis. It resonated through his hips and into his dick that got harder as he fucked her. 

He rolled over on his back, taking Monique with him. She folded her legs on either side of him and began a luscious dance on his dick. She didn't hop up and down, as so many women are wont to do, but ground into him deliciously. Her clit rubbed against him when she leaned forward and she increased the circumference of the circles she created with her hips. Her breasts were above his mouth and he began licking and biting at her hard nipples.

He gripped her ass and pulled her away from him almost releasing his dick from her warm sheath. She found the movement very pleasurable and repeated the stroke herself. Monique leaned back with her hands on the bed behind her and brought her hips back and forth experimenting with a stroke that just barely kept his long dick inside of her. 

She was exceptionally wet and fucking was noisy. Richard watched as his dick, shiny and slick with her juices, disappeared in her searing cunt over and over again. Leaning back this way, Monique's clit was without stimulation. She reached down and fingered it herself. Moving her hand in fast circles while continuing to rock on his throbbing dick. Richard watched her fuck herself and thought it one of the sexiest things he'd ever seen. That is, until she came. 

She threw her head back and moaned loudly. Her breasts were shaking from the spasms she experienced, her nipples like hard bullets. She continued to rub herself slowly as Richard could feel as well as see and hear her orgasm. She collapsed on top of him, licking and kissing his neck and shoulder, still breathing noisily through her mouth.

He felt her cum dripping down his balls and kneaded her smooth ass as if milking her. He rolled Monique on her back and pulled out. He hated to hear the whine of protest that came from her, but knew that the feeling would be short lived. 

He took her waist in both of his strong hands and flipped her over. He pulled her up onto her knees and pushed down on the back of her neck, keeping her shoulders on the bed. He slid into her easily; such was the wetness he found in her shaved crevice. He rested there, happily, committing the feel of her wet pussy to memory. He fucked her with long, smooth strokes until her moans fused and became a lust-filled melodious song. 

Monique reached for sheets, pillows, the headboard. Anything to hold onto for fear she'd be lost and never find her way back. Richard watched the muscles in her back move and stretch and traced his fingers along her spine. He held onto her hips for dear life and increased his pace that was still agonizingly slow to Monique. She began to push her ass against him, an orgasm brewing just under the surface. She knew a good, hard, punishing fuck would take her over the edge again. 

But Richard wanted to savor the incredible woman he knew he was about to loose. He relished the feel of her silken walls and kept his pace slow, moving his hips at odd angles, caressing every inch of her. He reached around and put two fingers flat on her clit and pressed down, making the same circles he made with his dick inside of her dripping sex. She arched her back and her moans increased. She would cum that way: under his hand and on his dick. 

She pressed back against him as her orgasm flowed over her. Her shoulders dipped back onto the bed as her breath came in heavy gasps. Satisfied she was spent, Richard stopped holding back. He fucked her hard, slamming into her ass. The noisy sounds of her wetness and skin slapping skin took him to the next level. His dick jerked and shot thick streams of cum into her waiting, clutching pussy.

He collapsed on his side, pulling her into him and cuddling with her back against his chest. His dick, now limp, remained inside of her as if glued by the copious amounts of fluid they exchanged during sex.

They lay there for a long while lost in thought. He stroked her face and pulled his hand back as if scorched when he felt her tears.

He pressed himself further into her, his breath on her neck, "Baby, please don't cry."

Monique shook her head as the tears continued to flow. "This is all so wrong. A terrible mistake wrought from a bad decision."

Richard stroked her hip and spoke as honestly as he could. "What just happened between us was the most wonderful sex I've ever had. There is no way it was a mistake. I've waited my whole life to be inside you. I wouldn't trade this night for anything."

And that's what made it so wrong for Monique. This was supposed to be one lone night of pleasure, but she still wanted Richard, wanted what only he could give her. Previous lovers, including her husband, had never come close. So she had to go.

She reluctantly pulled away from him, closing her ears to the sound her still-wet pussy made when his dick was freed. She went to the bathroom to clean and groom herself as best she could. 

Richard was lying on the bed propped on an elbow when Monique emerged naked from the bathroom. "You are so beautiful."

Monique began to dress, ignoring his comment. She shoved her moist panties into her purse and pulled on her jeans.

Richard could not let her go that easy. "Mo, please. This can't be the last time. People search lifetimes for what we just shared. I have to see you again."

"Richard, just let it go. It was great, but it has to be over." She replaced her rings on the third finger of her left hand and held them up for him to see. "I'm married and this is just flat out wrong."

Richard stood up and embraced her. He looked soulfully into her eyes and said, "What is wrong is that you stay with a fool that has no idea what a prize you are. What is wrong is that it took us so long to find each other. What is wrong is letting the best thing that every happened to me walk away without a fight."

Monique hung her head and shook herself out of his arms. "I have to go, Richard." She rushed for the door, before she changed her mind.

"Alright, go. But when you come to the same realizations that I have, contact me. I'm head of Pediatrics at Cedar Sinai. I hope you'll call."

And she was gone.

He focused on the emergency exit sign on the back of the door. A red arrow on the floorplan announced: 'You are here'. Thank goodness for the sign, he thought, because I've never been more lost.



Bittersweet



He was in bed, alone, thinking about her when his phone rang, startling him from his thoughts.

"Hi." It was her. How odd that she should call him as he was thinking of her.

"Hi." Was all he could think to say.

"I don't want to be alone right now. Can you come over?"

"Sure. Just give me a minute to get dressed."

"Ok. I'll see you soon."

*** 

He pulled in to her driveway, killed the lights and the engine and just sat there for a moment. Why was he here? Not thirty minutes ago, he was home in bed. Alone. Thinking about her. Slowly he got out of his car and walked to the door.

***

She heard him unlock the front door and come into the house. Her heart started to race. She knew why he was there. She knew why he always came over. It was always the same. It didn't really matter. She could never refuse him. She knew he didn't love her. She loved him.

Standing in front of the full length mirror, she saw him in the bedroom doorway. Just looking at him made her weak in the knees. Tall, 5'11. Dark, curly hair with dark brown eyes. Oh, how she could get lost in those eyes. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt that showed every cut of his muscle. His black jeans showed every contour of his ass and legs. Thinking about his naked body made her heart race faster. Oh, how she wanted him.

***

Standing in her doorway, he saw her watching him from her full length mirror. His eyes moved over every inch of her. He could see her chest heaving with every breathe she took. Standing there, she wore a white blouse and blue jeans. She looked incredible. 5' tall, petite. Her blonde hair, worn down, fell over her shoulders. Through the mirror, he looked in her eyes. They were a shade of blue that reminded him of an impending storm. He loved her eyes.

He entered her room and walked up behind her. Wrapping one hand around her waist and the other around her neck, he pushed his body up against hers so she could feel the bulge in his jeans. He whispered in her ear with his hot breathe, "I want to fuck you". He started kissing and sucking her neck.

He moved his hands to the buttons on her blouse. One by one, as she felt his hot breathe on her neck, he unbuttoned her blouse. He gently slid it down her arms and let it fall to the floor.

He brought his hand back up and massaged her breast and slipped his other hand between her legs. She could feel his cock growing and pressing harder against her as she reached back to rub his leg. She tried to turn around to pull his cock out of his pants, but he had a firm grip on her. She couldn't turn around. He kissed her neck and back, harder, and moved his hand up a little to unbutton her jeans.

He slipped his hand down her pants, into her panties, and slid his fingers over her pussy. As he brushed her clit with his fingertip, her knees began to buckle. He held her firm. From behind, she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned pants. Her breath came in quick little spurts. He kissed her neck and ear lobe.

Slowly, his fingers found her pussy and finds that it is already wet. That made him crazy and his cock gets harder. She started struggling to turn around. His hold was too tight. Her pussy got wetter as she squirmed in his arms, but he held her up.

The forcefulness and his strength turned her on more than she had ever been before. He slid her panties down with his free hand and then brought his hand back up to her moistness. He slid his finger in. Slowly. She gasps, "Oh, yessss". He slowly fucked her with his finger as she grabbed his arms to hold herself up.

As she started to moan, he teased her a little, "Do you want my cock, Jess? Come on, Jess. Grab my cock and show me how bad you want it."

She pushed back, hard, throwing him off balance and he hit carpet with a light thud. He looked up at her with a stunned expression. She kicked off her pants and panties and stood over him. He laid back on the floor and she straddled his face.

"Ohhh!" He immediately wrapped his arms around her legs and plunged his tongue deep into her pussy. He used his lips to rub her clit so that she got complete stimulation. 

She moved her hips back and forth as if she were riding his cock and yelled, "Yes, Kyle, lick my pussy, make me cum! Fuck me with your tongue! Now! Make me cum!"

She rode his face as he vigorously plunged his tongue into her. He slid his left hand over and stuck his finger into her ass, moving it in and out. She took in a breath. She was overcome with sensations all over her body. She felt the heat spreading all through her. She had never felt such pleasure in her life. 

She yelled out, "Oh, God, yes!" Her body was wracked with spasms, he struggled to hold her there. She fell over, shaking. Cumming so hard, she couldn't believe it. He got up and hurriedly tore the rest of his clothes off. The whole time, watching her as she lay on her side, massaging her pussy, her body spasming. Moaning uncontrollably.

Then he grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the lips as he got on his knees and guided her onto her back. He took her hand and moved it to his rock hard cock and she gasped. She hungrily guided it to her pussy and grabbed his ass to push it in. 

He felt the head of his cock slide into her warm, dripping cunt and moaned. "Oh, my God, it feels so good" Then he pushed his shaft in slowly so she could feel every inch enter her.

"Oh, yes! Baby, you feel so good." he said, in a barely audible groan.

He plunged deep and she arched her back. Sensations surged through them. Electricity. Her body tingled all over. Her hips rising up to meet him as he plunged again and again, matching his every thrust.

"Oh yes! Kyle, fuck me, baby..."

He began fucking her harder. Her reaction got him so hot and his arms and chest tighted as he rammed his cock deeper into her. He felt her start to shake and she started screaming again and grabbing his shoulders, hard. She reached up and grabbed his beautiful, dark curls and pulled his face to hers. He kissed her hard, stifling a yell. She moaned and whimpered under the pressure of his lips as her whole body shook with yet another powerful orgasm.

As she came down slowly from that plateau of ecstasy, she wrapped her arms around his neck and in one quick movement, without disengaging, he rolled them over. She lay on top of him, her breasts pressed to his magnificent chest, kissing him slowly. Tenderly. She slowly sat up and ran her hands down his chest. She felt him so deep inside of her. She started to move her hips. Up and down. She stared down at his face, marveling at his expression. She reveled in the feel of him. His gorgeous body, his cut muscles, the smell of his masculinity. She sat straighter. Arching her back and leaning back further, she grabbed his ankles. With one hand, he massaged her breast. With the other, he rubbed her clit as she rode his stiff cock.

She felt so good that he thrust his hips upward as much as he could to meet her rhythm. He loved watching her slide up and down on his cock, and he started to feel the build up to an orgasm. She must have sensed it because she started riding him faster. 

"Jess, you fuck me so good, Oh my God." 

She leaned forward and grabbed his chest with both hands and bounced harder on his stiff cock. He felt it coming and started to groan.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Kyle, I'm cumming again! Cum with me baby! Now!" She rode him harder and faster, and felt his cock get so hard. She felt like he fucked her with steel. 

He yelled out as he exploded inside her. "Oh, fuck yeah! Fuck me, Jess! Fuck yeah!"

"Oh God, Kyle!!! Yes, yes, yes! I'm cumming so goood, baby, yeah."

She collapsed on top of him, their hearts beating rapidly. Breathing hard. They just laid there. He enjoyed the weight of her body on his. She still felt him inside her. Wishing they could stay like that way for awhile longer. He began to move from underneath her to get up. She moved to the side. 

He quickly kissed her on the cheek and said, "Thank you." then just got up and left the room.

She loved him. So much, and he would never know.

*** 

As he got into his car, he thought about what just took place. That was all he could think about. Whether he was with her or not. He couldn't stop thinking about her. She consumed him. It was always the same. She'd call him and ask him to come over and a few short hours later, he'd be back behind the wheel, pulling out of her driveway. It didn't really matter. He could never refuse her. He knew she didn't love him. He loved her. So much, and she would never know.

********************************

 Written: 05-20-08

Editor: obscurefruit (Thank you!)  



Bittersweet



Is it possible to miss arguing? As I laid there next to Keith one Sunday morning, the thought rambled aimlessly through my mind. Last year this time we'd reached the point in our relationship where either you decide you like the constant drama of your fiery disagreements or you are so exhausted from them that you are ready to say "to hell with the entire marriage." Ceasing to argue didn't even seem like an option; it was who were together. It was what we knew. 

I smiled in the early light of the winter sunrise, remembering my very first tangle with him. Doctoral studies at NYU placed me in Keith's Culture in Late Antiquity course. I think he made up his mind from the moment he saw me that he was going to relish challenging me to an inch of my sanity. 

There I was with my rather well developed sense of myself and he was all but pre-cumming for the idea of knocking me off my high horse. With just a few more credits to place under my belt before my dissertation I was feeling quite cocky ... more than usual. Keith was new to the professorship, but was well respected in the Anthropology department for his two books on the cultural rituals of Ancient Greece. I had read both of them; finding his descriptions of Matriarchal ritual to be blatantly sexualized. Just like a man, I thought and vehemently made my position known, if not in so many words.

I can still hear his response, "Delilah, your opinion is born out of your contemporary perspective. Women of Ancient Greece were considered dangerous for their sexual power, therefore their sexuality is the most poignant topic to explore," he took off his glasses as if to peer into my soul, "Perhaps you will learn something in this course after all."

As it turned out, I would have plenty to learn from Keith; especially how a man could actually give me a more intense orgasm than my own expert maneuvers. By the time I earned my degree we had been fucking for months. I agreed to marry him a year later.

Keith inhaled deeply next to me in the bed. He was still asleep but clearly entering REM state. I wondered if he was dreaming about me -- about waking up to slide my legs apart and fill me with his swollen cock. Dream on sweetie, I though sarcastically and instantly felt guilty. Keith hadn't been able to get hard since the near fatal car accident that left him paralyzed from the waist down. We hadn't had sex in more than ten months.

We hadn't had an argument since he came home from the hospital either. Silence can truly be deafening, and Keith's increasing disdain for conversation was like a noose around my neck. Still, every time I began to think "woe is me" I would have to remember that he is the one suffering and another wave of guilt would flow. I kissed his lips - reassuring myself as much as him that I still loved him, even with his fire dying slowly inside. 

I slid out of the bed to put on some coffee and retrieve the paper. Keith would be awake soon and looking for both. Next I would help him into the shower. From the waist up he still looked like the same sexy brainiac I fell in love with. Olive skinned and naturally toned from his rowing club days. His rapidly deteriorating legs were always the cruelest reminder to both of us of what he had lost. It wasn't that he couldn't walk anymore, or fuck anymore. It was because he couldn't walk or fuck that he had become lost to himself. As much as I wanted to wave a magic wand a make it all better, I couldn't. Keith would have to find his own peace. I would have to understand what my own should be. 

We employed a full time caretaker / assistant during the week, that helped him with the basics around the house and transported him to the few appointments he still had. Keith had written three more books since in the five years we had been married and on occasion his academic connections would cajole him into guest speaking for a class or two. After the accident Keith said that he hadn't the energy to return to a full time position; though we both knew that it was more than a lack of energy keeping him sequestered in our sprawling four bedroom suburban home for days on end. 

The house, way too big for the two of us and only served as yet another cruel reminder of how different things had turned out than we had planned. We'd left Manhattan two years earlier for a quaint Hudson River view twenty minutes north and a promise to start a family. No telling how long it would be before the real estate market turned around enough for us to sell without loosing a fortune. It's weird to live in a house where you never go into half of the rooms. 

On this rather lazy Sunday, I'd spent the day like I usually do, tackling the crosswords and reading, trying not to crawl out of my skin from the misery of it all, while Keith watched The Discovery Channel. When the door bell rang unexpectedly around 5:00, I glanced at Keith with a quizzical look. "I can't imagine who that could be," I said, sliding my bare feet into some goat skin loafers, and wondering if Keith had actually arranged for flowers to be delivered on Valentine's Day. Contrite as it was, some recognition of the day would have been nice.

I peeked out the side light. "It's Peter. You asked him to help you with something on his day off?" I asked him facetiously as I opened the door, before Keith could answer. I greeted Peter with familiar sarcasm and a plucky smirk. "Don't tell me, you just couldn't stay away."

He stepped in from the frost with several bags from the French Bistro in town. "Hello Delilah," he said simply and nodded in recognition of Keith sitting in his wheelchair by the sofa. As he removed his coat, I noticed that Peter looked a little more dressed up than usual in a pair of black twill trousers and a grey cashmere sweater over a fine collared shirt. He was my age, about ten years younger than Keith, but at 32 I thought he hadn't neared his full potential and reminded me of the flaky guys I went to college with who missed class half the time, satisfied with merely C-ing there way through one semester after the next. He had been working for Keith for about two months, since his previous assistant moved back to Ohio to shack up with her boyfriend. I had been enjoying the view ever since and I hoped it wasn't obvious to Keith that I suddenly seemed to be able to make it back by 6:30 every night from my curatorial position at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Calling it my own self-prescribed therapy, I had made a habit of changing out of my work attire in the only spot where Peter was sure to be able to watch my reflection in my dresser mirror. I never failed to give him a good show and he never failed to give me his undivided attention, though neither of us ever spoke of it. It was energizing to have a man look at me with raw lust again; a feeling that I was sorely missing in my marriage. 

And Peter was gorgeous, almost elegant looking; long and leanly built with dark deep set eyes and a curly mop of hair to ensure no one ever took him too seriously. On the days when he left a soft shadow accentuating his angled jaw, I would cream myself just a bit. This was such a day and the "go fuck yourself" stubble on his chin contrasted in an irresistible way to his otherwise impeccably neat appearance.

"What a surprise. I hope Keith is paying you overtime get you to work on your day off," I said,"What's in the bags? It smells delicious."

Peter crinkled his brow, "You didn't tell her did you?"

"No I was just about to, when you rang the bell," Keith responded.

"Tell me what?" I asked, very curious now.

"Delilah, I know very well that it is Valentine's Day, I didn't forget," Keith began to explain, "Modern rituals are just as important as the ancient ones we academics hold in such high esteem." He motioned for Peter to take the food into the Kitchen. "I've asked Peter to join us for dinner."

"Join us? It's rather odd, don't you think, to pay your assistant to work our date as a chaperone," I was confounded by his reasoning.

Peter returned with some dishes in hand, moving quickly to set the dining room table. "He's not paying me, Delilah. And this is not work."

I flashed them both a confused look; frowning because I never like being kept in the dark. The light conversation we shared over our meal did not reveal anything further until Keith proposed a toast. "To Cupid and his uncanny way to find the right match for those deserving of love," he smiled at both of us, but his words gave me the chills. I knew there was more. 

He looked at me in the matter of fact way I was used to seeing when he explained something, "Delilah, there is a tumor rapidly growing on my brain. It's the reason I blacked out and crashed my car into a tree." He slapped his dead legs and clenched his teeth, the next words were more painful. "I'm dying. I have about three months, maybe four." 

I sprung out of my seat and threw my arms around him; climbing into his lap and kissing his face. "No, no, no. No, please, no," I begged.

He held tight, stroking my hair and whispering "Ssshhh. Don't cry Love, I have had some time to accept my fate. Yours my sweet, doesn't have to be as grim." I pulled my head away from his broad shoulder with my tearful eyes full of question. He held my face and drew my lips onto his in a deep, emotional kiss as if it were the last time he'd ever taste them. 

And then he stopped, gently guiding me to look at Peter who was seated next to us. Peter was staring at me with a look of compassion that revealed his prior knowledge Keith's news. When he took my hand and slowly leaned forward, I was frozen in shock, and in truth, in curious anticipation. He kissed my salty tears, softly and with a sensitivity that made me flood with an uncontrollable desire for more of his tenderness. 

Simultaneously Keith drew my hair over one shoulder and dragged his moist lips and tongue over the back of my neck. Then reaching under my arms, he busied his fingers with the buttons on my blouse. I tensed up and looked at him with trepidation and he responded with certainty, "I know that you have been suffering. Let Peter give you want I can't Love; a future." 

Keith pulled me back against him and spread the fabric away from my breasts and off of my shoulders. He lifted my head to expose the full length of my slender neck and I rested there for a moment like an offering from the Gods, while Peter stood over us deciding momentarily what he wanted to taste first. As his hot mouth engulfed my nipple, I felt myself start to simmer inside; a feeling that hadn't stirred in me in longer than I could remember. Then Keith placed his hands under my thighs and lifted my legs into the air, while Peter reached under my skirt to remove my panties. His tongue slipped softly into my needful slit and I sighed with appreciation for his amazing technique; relaxing my head back onto Keith's shoulder. Peter's fingers slid inside me, as his mouth gave my clit the attention it craved and Keith spread my legs wider in response to my increasing gyrations. I arched my back and hooked my arms around Keith's neck, using him for leverage against my rising climax. He was whispering to me in my ear, "Cum for him my Love. Give yourself to him." His words carried me over the edge and I burst into Peter's mouth, crying out with a jumbled mix of emotions. 

Keith kissed me one more time, sweetly now. And with an unblinking gaze he said, "Upstairs, the both of you -- alone." 

He was so definite in his tone that it seemed like a prophetic decree; not to be contested. Not that I wanted to. I was in pain and in shock and in love all over again with my husband for his remarkable complexities. I wanted to please him and I had to admit I wanted to please myself. He'd always known my silent desires and his blessings for Peter and I was his final gift to me. 

Peter lifted me off of Keith's lap and by the time we got to my bedroom we were feverishly stripping away the rest of our clothing. We didn't make it to the bed and I opted to bend over the dresser as he entered my dripping cunt with a long moan. I gripped the edges and watched our reflection in the mirror. My perfume bottles shook and fell over at the force of his thrusts. He was ravenous and I was equally desperate to have him inside me. Spilling a hot shot of come into me only prompted him to change positions and he threw me onto the bed, pressing inside me again and flooding my mouth with his tongue. I grabbed at his ass, spreading my legs and encouraging him to go faster. I was nearing another orgasm, as his cock acquainted itself with my most sensitive depths. Peter slipped his fingers into mine, locking them together and pushed against the spot he'd found. I screamed out, in utter release and came harder than I ever had before. 

Keith insisted that I spend the night with Peter, arranging for himself to sleep in the guest room. I obeyed his wishes and lay in Peter's arms until about midnight, but crawled into bed next to Keith once Valentine's Day was over. I nuzzled next to him and promised to file for a sabbatical first thing in the morning at the museum. Over the next month I spent as much time as I could with Keith and got to know and love Peter in the mean time. As it turned out Keith was quite good at being Cupid and had selected the perfect match for me in Peter. When Keith suddenly slipped into a coma and was placed in a hospice we moved into Peter's modest Chelsea apartment in the city, selling the house -- losses be damned. 

The events of that day turned a lot of things on its head for me; what it means to love and be loved, what's important in life and what we should do to preserve it. It's been three years now and Peter and I are more in love than ever before. To our delight, I am expecting our first child and we have our eye on a cute little 2 bedroom house in the suburbs. Still Valentine's Day will always be dedicated to my dearest Keith, may you rest in peace my Love.