I pull his lips towards my own, his stubble pleasantly rough against my skin. I moan; I cannot help myself. I haven’t felt this way in far too many years. His touch is riveting against my body. I’m pinned beneath him, although this is not a complaint. Quite the contrary actually. He changes me. With him I’m not my usual dominant self. I fight the urge to beg him to spank me, to take me. I want to, but my mouth is unable to fathom more than primal moans. The cold glass desk underneath me is an exquisite break from the heat radiating off our bodies. My name breathes into my ear. I lean forward to kiss his neck. As my lips reach but a millimetre from his beating pulse a rapping at the door crashes me back to reality. I jerk forward, pushing him off me in the process. Grabbing my blouse from the back of the desk chair I quickly throw my arms into the sleeves.
“Mrs Smith? I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am, but your husband is on line one” a small voice squeaks through the oak door.
I glare at it. That God damn assistant. She knew just how to interrupt even the most important of meetings. She’s a sweet girl, just a bit dim-witted at times. A movement to my sides catches my eye. I don’t need to turn to know he is pulling his trousers on. I look at him, something I find myself doing on a regular basis. He really is a beautiful creature; both in looks and in heart.
“He says it’s important ma’am”
I jump, realising I’ve yet to answer the girl.
“Erm, okay. Thank you Lizzie, I’ll take the call now”
I really hope she hasn’t heard the breathlessness in my response. Grabbing my briefs and pencil skirt, I proceed to get dressed in somewhat of a rush. I know, of course, that no-one can see from outside my office nor my husband through the phone, but I feel they will be able to sense the lack of clothing. It’s an absurd notion, but I do not intend to risk anything further than I often do with these, meetings so to put it. I straighten out any creases, trying to return to my professional image.
“Are you still okay for seven Amelia?”
Looking through my lashes I smile. He stands before me, his jacket attached to his index finger and neatly swung over his shoulder. The white shirt does little to hide his muscular physique and I can once more feel myself becoming hot and flustered. The room suddenly feels very small with him standing before me; something I had failed to notice in our previous encounters. Naturally my employees think he works for a smaller business I am interested in investing in. This is to some extent true. He does work for said company, the rest is a different matter entirely.
“Of course Damon, I wouldn’t miss it for the world”
Placing the receiver to my ear, I smile sadly at him. I feel my heart sink in a familiar way as he exits. The dial tone disturbs all silence until eventually my husband answers.
“Hello my darling. I just wanted to remind you to make sure you’re home by half four. It is vital we get to the reservations on time”
I cringe. I had completely forgotten about the plans he had made! Checking my watch I groan quietly to myself. I have forty-five minutes to complete today’s tasks and get home.
“I’ll be leaving at four. That gives me enough time to get home in time for us to both be ready and leave” I promise.
He’s smiling. Of course I cannot see so , but I can hear the smile in his voice. He really is looking forward to tonight. Then again, Les Miserables has always been his favourite live production. The phone clicks to signal the end of our conversation. I suppose I had best send that e-mail to my accountant.
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Finally the clock rolls around to four o’clock. I know in reality it hasn’t been an overly long wait, but it feels like I’ve been sat in my office for days. Granted that is what happens when your day starts at five o’clock in the morning. I grab my car keys and lock up my office. Standing in front of the lift, I see a shadow hover beside me.
“See you Monday Amelia”
I don’t need to turn to know who the chirpy voice belongs to. Only Tony could ever be this happy after a long day’s work. I smile at him. He’s a good employee; seldom late and always happy to work overtime should it be required. A dear friend of mine and the only other person who knows about Damon and myself. It didn’t hurt they both went to university together and had remained good friends upon graduating. He’s trustworthy enough to not only keep his knowledge locked away, but to also aid us in our rendezvous. Finally the lift pins, alerting us of its arrival. Hitting the button for the car park, we stand in silence; I’m far too exhausted for chatter and can feel myself drifting into unconsciousness as I lean against the wall.
“You okay to drive?”
The lift doors have opened now. I nod pressing my alarm button on my keys. Walking to our cars, I can sense Tony looking at me.
“Honestly Tony, I’ll be fine once the fresh air has woken me up a little”
Climbing into my car, I wave to him before turning the key in the ignition. Pulling out of the car park, the sudden realisation that traffic is going to be terrible hits me. Shit. Too many people will be dropping their kids home from school following after school activities or family meals.
Turning a corner I curse. Diverted traffic. Someone has been in accident. U-turning, I continue on my way very much aware of the seconds ticking by quicker than I would like. I haven’t the time to fill up my tank like I normally would on a Friday. I’ll fill it up tomorrow on my way to meet my mum. One day isn’t going to hurt. I look at the clock on my dashboard. 4:28. Fuck! I still have ten minutes before I’m home. Michael is not going to be in a good mood by the time I arrive.
After what seems like an eternity, my street comes into view. I dread to look at the time, knowing I am already late. Pulling into the garage, I switch off the engine. I make sure everything is locked before heading to my front door.
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Opening the front door, I hold my breath. I can hear my husband stomping around in the kitchen. Slipping off my shoes I make my way to him.
“Where have you been? You should have been home ten minutes ago. Now we’ll never make those reservations” he snaps.
“Honey it’s fine. I’m not very late, we can still make them. Just give me a little while to get dressed into something more suitable” I smile up at him.
He simply frowns at me. Hmmm, I don’t think he likes that idea. His arms are crossed over his body in a somewhat uncertain manner. I can see him calculating in his head whether or not we are too far behind his schedule to continue on with the evening. Realistically I don’t need an entire hour to get ready. A simple yet pretty dress, a touch-up to my make up and I would be done. Twenty minutes maximum. Still leaving us with plenty of time to enjoy a glass of wine before we leave. I tell him so.
“No. God damn it! You always ruin my plans. All I wanted to do was treat and apologise for the other day, but you won’t allow me to do so!”
I watch as he storms out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Our bedroom door slams. Heaving a sigh, I twiddle my wedding band. It’s a habit that annoys my husband so, but I cannot stop it. I know exactly what he is referring to. I shouldn’t have angered him that night. If i hadn’t things would not have got out of hand and he would not be hurt now with the mishap of his schedule. Dropping my hands to my side, I follow him.
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Opening the door quietly I see him sulking on our bed. I stifle a laugh. He resembles a child, pouting with his head pulled into his chest.
“Michael look I’m sorry. I cannot help if there is an accident and traffic, but the more you sit there and sulk the less likely it is we are going to meet our reservations anyway. Give me five minutes to get sorted and we can leave. We still have plenty of time for the drive even if there is traffic”
He looks up at me, his expression softening.
“Come ,sit”
His hand is outstretched waiting for me. Walking over, I sit next to him.
“You know I wanted to do this for you. All you have for me is excuses and it’s not fair”
He sighs. I watch as he leans over, kisses my neck and tries to cup my breast. I push him away.
“Michael! What are you doing?”
A fire flares in his eyes. A look I’ve never encountered to this degree. He grabs my arm and flings me backwards, trapping me beneath him. I struggle to move, but from nowhere - or so it seems- handcuffs restrain my wrists and ankles. I tug and scream, trying to free myself.
“Let me go! Michael please!”
I have no choice but to watch him unzip his trousers and lower them to his ankles. He yanks my skirt and underwear off, crawling towards me as he does so. I still try in vain to break free; my heart beating loudly against my chest. God no. He can’t be about to do what I think he is. I cry and beg, hoping to sway him. He leans into my ear.
“You are my wife and I have every right to do with you as I please. Now you have the duty, as my wife, to allow me to fulfil my desires”
I try one last time to free myself from the vice grips of the handcuffs. I cry in pain as he forces himself into me. With his hands around my throat I am forced to watch his face as he thrusts back and forth; harder and faster. Each movement causing me to retch and sob. I can’t believe what he is doing to me. Never before have I felt so weak and helpless. His hands tighten as he finishes. My sobs continue. He unlocks the handcuffs finally releasing me. I let out a breath, only just realising I had been holding it. Curling into a ball, I roll away from him and allow my tears to stream silently down my face. Unable to see him, unwilling to look over, I listen to his every move, calculating his exact position. I beg silently for him to stay away. For it to be over. I hear him pull on his robe and open the en-suite door; swiftly by the sound of water running, the robe dropping to the floor and the shower door closing. Each sound seems excruciatingly loud in the otherwise quiet house. The water stops. He’s opening the shower door and grabbing a towel off the hook. The door handle rattles. I hold my breath, releasing only when I have heard all three of his drawers open. I count every footstep as he heads towards our bedroom door but still I am unable to turn towards him. The door opens but a fraction before I feel his eyes on me. I pull myself tighter itno myself, shielding my eyes from the piercing hallway light.
“I love you Mel”
I hold my tears until the door closes behind him. A car starts, his I pray. Then silence wraps its arms around me.
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Squinting my eyes,I try to wake my body up. My stomach turns as images from last night flash in my mind. I have never felt so dirty, nor been so relieved to be in a hot shower before. It took me hours to realise Michael must have planned that for some time. I should have known when he ordered the chrome frame for our bed. How could I have missed the clues? I even contemplated not going to mother’s, but that is out of the question. I have been every Saturday since dad died and I refuse to let her down. My body aches. Clearly the shower did little to help. Heaving a sigh, I drag myself out of bed. Grabbing a pair of trousers and a jumper from my wardrobe, I decide to skip a shower today. I feel a bruise emerging on my thigh and cannot bare to see it. Slipping my shoes off I pray Michael has already left for work. No such luck. He’s in the kitchen, placing bacon and eggs onto a plate.
“I’ve done you breakfast darling. Eat up before it gets cold”
I can’t look at him, instead sliding onto a stool in front of the breakfast bar. Picking at the food I feel a lump form in my throat. There is no way I can eat anything. Instead I move the food around my plate. From the corner of my eye I watch him pack his work bag and put on his coat. He checks his watch, sticks his phone in his pocket and makes his way to me. I feel myself tense as he kisses my cheek.
“Don’t forget it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight. Have a good day. I love you”
I don’t respond. How can he act so normal? My stomach flips once more. I wait until the door slams behind him before I allow myself to once again cry. Carrying the plate to the bin, I toss the food away. I can barely concentrate as I wash the dishes, no doubt doing a terrible job of it. Grabbing my phone and car keys, I leave house, dreading returning later in the day.
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I watch mum’s face light up as she tells of a man she is talking to her. I’m happy for her, I really am, but I hardly listen. We’ve gone to her favourite place to eat in London; Cafe Godiva. It gives mum the perfect excuse to shop and eat at one time. With Christmas right around the corner there was no stopping her. I’ve barely eaten my food, whilst mum on the other hand has cleaned her plate. Paying the bill, we head to the shops below us. A perfume shop catches my eye. I feel like my usual one hasn’t covered the smell of Michael well enough. I point in the shop’s direction, forgetting briefly that my wrists are red raw from the struggle. That is until I see mum’s face drop as she grabs my arm and pulls my sleeve back.
“What on earth is that?”
I pull out of her grasp and cover my wound. What do I say to that? I hesitate, trying to come up with a good excuse.
“Come on mum. I’m nearly twenty-five. Isn’t about time I gave you a grandchild” I joke, winking at her.
It’s clear from her expression she isn’t convinced. Quite the opposite. Worry brings her wrinkles closer together.
“Look mum, this isn’t the time nor the place to discuss my sex life. Can we drop it please”
I smile at her, trying to assure her everything is fine. Finally she sighs and waves her hands in the air.
“I’ll never understand you younger lot”she laughs.
I laugh with her, trying my best to act myself. We meander around the store until I find a perfume that is completely different from the one I wear. It smells nice, but it’s not mine. Nevertheless I purchase it. We continue to walk around the shopping centre, grabbing mum’s extensive list of gifts as we do.
“You finished?”I giggle, my arms barely visible under the numerous bags.
You could easily assume my mum had a large family as opposed to just her and myself. After losing my brother in an accident when I was ten, my parent’s had never fully recovered enough to have another child. I myself had never, until recently, wanted children and so my family was but a small one. Mum looks over her list one last time before nodding.
“Yes I think so”
Thank you Raj :)
Good job. Bravo.
Thank you Elsie :)