by Nolon King
He stood there looking at me, his eyes full of hurt, as if I was the one who had wronged him.
I slowly undressed, kicking off my shoes, then peeling the lacy black dress from my body, before removing a string of pearls from my neck. I was in my lingerie. Pink, black, and as I’d discovered — though Ryan still had no idea — exactly what I liked.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I said. “Not anymore. But we’ve learned two things here tonight. One, that you pay women to fuck you. And two, that I fuck men for money.”
I stripped out of my lingerie and shimmied out of my panties.
“So are you going to fuck me and pay me, or what?”
“That’s not why I’m here,” Ryan said.
You can understand why I didn’t believe him, can’t you?
“You’re paying for it, so I’ll do whatever you want. What do you want?”
I crawled onto the bed on all fours, mashing my elbows into the mattress, lifting my ass toward him so he could see everything. Then I glanced over my shoulder to throw him my sexiest eyes.
“Ready when you are.”
Ryan stared at me in disbelief. What was he waiting for? Permission? He’d gotten that when I’d accepted the job.
“Or maybe something more straightforward, but with a twist.” I ran my fingers between my legs, then showed him how wet I already was. “You can have whatever you want. I’m sure you heard about my reputation. I’m sure that’s why you were willing to pay for me. And I’m sure that you’re about to have the best fuck of your life. Because the rumors were true, Ryan. I am that good. But you know one more thing I’m sure of?”
He didn’t deserve the chance to answer, even if the cat wasn’t chewing on his tongue.
“I’m sure that you’re never going to have me again. So enjoy me tonight while you can.”
I liked the way he looked at me right then, realizing that every word out of my mouth was true and that he didn’t have to parse fiction from fact. He was struggling to process it all, that much was obvious, but later. Now, his animal self was taking control.
Ryan started with his tie, stripping it from his neck while he held my stare, finally breaking away from my eyes only to rake his gaze down toward my pussy.
I was surprised to find that I already missed his eyes on mine. They were a mirror, where for a second I could see myself as Ryan saw me. The confidence, the independence, and the craven hunger of his wanting to claim me.
His shirt came off faster, he worked on his socks and shoes while he unfastened the buttons, then his pants even faster than that. Underwear next, then his socks like a good boy.
He walked toward the bed and pulled me up to a kneeling position. Not too rough and no fumbling at all. Just about goddamned perfect. Then he kneeled behind me, our bodies meshing together in easy familiarity.
“Now,” he said, the confidence now rich in his voice, almost matching my own. “Like this.”
He entered me from upright and behind.
Our bodies moved easily together, like they always had, but without the usual inhibitions.
“I only did it because I needed the money,” he grunted mid-thrust.
I push back against him, wanting him deeper.
“We had mountains of debt with Ambrose — he helped me out when you got pregnant. Gave us whatever we needed, but we needed a lot.”
It took a few moments for him to get that all out between gasps and grunts as he picked up the pace.
“We couldn’t have done it without him, but it got to a point where he owned me. I had to make more money fast.”
Well that sounded really fucking familiar.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I reached down to cup his balls with my free hand.
“And have you think you were stuck with a total loser? Hell no.”
He fucked me harder, grabbed a handful of tit and squeezed it. Why had it never been like this before?
“Everything snowballed. School. The baby. The next baby. The house. And the shopping. Oh my God, the shopping. Sometimes it seemed like the only thing that made you happy.”
I could’ve taken that as an accusation and felt guilty, but I didn’t. It was a relief to finally hear a truth I could believe: that he hadn’t been trying to burden me with debt before abandoning me, he’d just dug himself a hole he couldn’t get out of.
No, we dug that hole together, and he’d been trying to keep me from finding out how deep it was because he wanted me to be happy.
Ryan groaned and finished, seconds after I did. It felt like goodbye.
It was a cataclysmic revelation, to finally understand that Ryan and I weren’t all that different. We’d both been trapped in the same hell together, and yet each of us suffered alone. Tormented by loneliness, guilt, and frustration that the other person couldn’t or wouldn’t give us what we wanted.
We’d been friends, but we didn’t love each other. We never had. And I’d gotten pregnant with Alec before we’d had time to figure that out. Our marriage was based on the excitement of a forbidden tryst, a defective condom, and the belief that if we tried hard enough, we could make it all work.
And we didn’t have to pretend anymore.
We stared at each other side-by-side on the bed, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Ryan looked at me in a way that I’d never seen before, and I wondered what he was thinking, not yet daring to ask and break this beautiful stillness between us. It was already fragile enough.
I realized in that moment that I could’ve loved him, if we’d started out with total honesty, but it was too late for that now.
He didn’t love me because he wouldn’t have done what he did to someone he loved. We were two people trying so hard to do the right thing that we ended up doing something that was so very, very wrong.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said, stroking my hair tenderly. “I wanted to be good enough for you. But I could tell that I wasn’t. When Melinda wanted me to sleep with other women, as part of the assessment, I said yes because I wanted to feel good enough for someone.”
None of that mattered, not anymore.
“You never told me how you ended up here,” I said.
“I told you, I’m working.” But now he was smiling.
I was still confused.
“Melinda Shelly sent you, right?” he asked.
I nodded, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t in shock.
“I’ve been freelancing for Shellter Productions. They’ve offered me a job. This was an assignment for me, and an interview for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Saturday Morning …
“Kids,” I said, looking at Alec and Lena. “There’s something your father and I need to tell you.
The four of us were gathered in the living room, assembled around the coffee table. I’d made the fuck out of the guacamole, with two versions, jalapeños to make the boys holler — Ryan would love it and Alec would love to pretend to — and mild for Lena. Not that chips and guac would take the pain out of what we were going to say, but I hoped it would soften the blow.
The children looked up at me expectantly. This was going to be harder than I thought.
Alec looked especially hopeful, certain that his parents were about to reassure him, tell him that all the things he had been worrying about lately wouldn’t be a problem.
I was about to break his heart, and that was the worst part of all this. Unlike Lena, he’d probably already seen the writing on the wall and had been stubbornly refusing to read it. The light in his eyes would sputter out, and I’d have to live with the knowledge that I was responsible.
But for now, I clung to those final few seconds of feeling like a family with my two beautiful, amazing children. Everything I’d gone through, they were worth it. They made me feel grateful for my time with Ryan. No matter what had already happened between us, or what our mutual future still had in store, I would always respect him as the father of our children.
I looked at Ryan and gave him a re
assuring smile.
He gave me one right back.
We’re in this together, it said.
And for the first time in forever, I believed him.
He was also brave enough to take the first bullet, and I loved him a little bit for that, too.
“Your mother and I will be taking some time apart …” he started.
Lena was still too young to fully understand the gravity of this moment, but her big brother was not. His face withered inside itself, his lip starting to tremble, fists clenched and knees shaking, his entire body working to keep him from crying. Alec knew exactly what his father was trying to say.
“But everything is going to be okay. This is a transition, and we’re going to grow as a family through it.”
Alec shook his head. “How are we supposed to grow as a family if you two are taking time apart?”
He was one wrong word from crying. Ryan looked at me. Batter up.
“No matter what,” I said, taking the ball. “We’re still a family. The four of us will always be a family. Your father and I both love you two very much.”
The dam broke and Alec began to cry.
“Jeffery’s parents separated, and now they’re divorced. Same for Avery’s. Why don’t you just say you’re getting a divorce?”
Lena went to comfort her brother. That warmed my heart, just as much as it hurt me when Alec pushed his sister away.
Her little face puckered, so I gathered her up into a hug.
“Everything will be okay,” I said.
“Your mother’s right,” Ryan added.
“This is your fault!” Alec yelled at Ryan. “It’s because you’re gone all the time!”
Lena clung to me, clearly scared by Alec’s outburst.
“The important thing is that we love you,” I said. “We’re tired of fighting with each other, we just want to be there for you two.”
Alec was crying too hard for Lena to hold back. She finally lost it, too.
“There will be changes,” Ryan said. “If you’re living right, you can’t avoid them. But we’re going to make sure that this will be the good kind of change.” He waited a beat, wanting their full attention, then finished. “I’ll be getting a place in the city, and you’ll get to come visit me.”
The children cried just as expected, and we took turns rocking them back and forth, petting their heads, just like we planned.
I knew we were going to be okay when Alec asked if we could order pizza for dinner, and watch a movie after.
As Ryan helped the kids choose toppings, I got started on setting the table. It wouldn’t be our last family night, but it was one that the kids would remember for the rest of their lives, and I wanted to make sure that when they looked back, they didn’t just remember the bad news, they also remembered we’d cared about how they were hurting.
And it wasn’t like being separated meant Ryan and I would avoid each other. The opposite, in fact. Now that we weren’t burdened by the need to pretend we were happily married, working together would be so much easier. We had a plan for that, too.
Ryan had a meeting with Melinda on Monday, and I planned to crash it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sunday Morning …
OLIVIA
Olivia, sit straight, and close your legs like a good girl.
I kept hearing my mother in my head, reminding me of all the ways I was supposed to be good that I’d been ignoring now for more than half of my life. Mom popped up in my mind when I was about a block away from the Church of the Trinity, then refused to leave as I parked, as I walked inside, and now as I stood in the back, watching the parishioners and waiting for my chance to balance the karmic scales.
I was wearing a modest skirt, light pink and flowing, kissing the skin just past my knees. Plus, matching heels, a white button-up with only the top one undone, and a chunky gold necklace to tie everything together. I hadn’t worn anything this chaste since my First Communion. Walking into the church, I was half surprised I didn’t fall through a trap door and straight into Hell the second I set foot inside.
I liked being in back, where I could listen and observe, without the burden of everyone looking at me. Watching the Wilders, who had no clue that I was here.
Father McCurdy was likable, charming even. I didn’t buy into the religion, but I believed in the relief it gave people.
“We need three things to make them happy,” he said. “Something to do, something to love, and something to look forward to. And yet, to be truly happy, to feel deeply satisfied, we need more than that … we must ensure that we are doing the right thing, loving the right thing, and looking forward to the right thing.”
“Jesus gives us everything we need to feel true happiness and experience joy and unspeakable glory, but we must listen to him, and to ourselves. Ask yourself, What makes me most happy?”
He looked out across the pews and began to question us.
“Are you happy when you go hunting or fishing? How about when you see a friend or loved one, or go to church on a beautiful Sunday morning and experience an excellent service?”
He waited for the ripple of laughter to fade before he continued.
“Are you happy when you have fun with your children?” He waited a beat and then narrowed his eyes. “How about when you are high, or fornicating with someone you aren’t married to?”
The Father was finally speaking my tongue.
Was I truly happy?
No, I had to admit that I wasn’t. Maybe there was something to those three things. I had plenty of things to do and to look forward to, but not all that much to love.
Time for Communion, so I fell into line. What came next would be the right thing to do, and I was going to love doing it.
Frank and Lynette were seated up front, singing from their hymnals.
They turned and saw me, Lynette a second before her beast of a man. Both looked well beyond shocked, but Lynette’s overriding emotion appeared to be anger, while Frank’s was clearly some cousin of fear.
I wanted to die laughing, but first I had to accept the blood and body of Christ.
I held out my tongue for Father McCurdy, looking up into his eyes and waiting for him to press the wafer atop it and bless me.
Body of Christ.
Amen.
Then I turned around and let them see me again, chewing the eucharist with a smile.
The gap had widened between them. Frank was avoiding my eyes at all costs, surely hoping that this situation would just go away. But Lynette knew that it wouldn’t. She met my eyes with a murderous glare, gestured toward the atrium, and started marching outside.
She waited for me there, hands on her hips, fists clenched, and shoulders hunched, her body already leaning slightly toward me, unsteady but aggressive. Looking like she wanted to fight.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed.
I looked at Lynette, pretending to be aghast. “Watch your language, please. God is watching.”
“Oh fuck you, you whore!”
I laughed out loud, remembering something that Natalie said.
She tries so hard not to swear because it’s what the ‘lower classes do,’ so it’s always funny when she loses it.
Yes, this was pretty hilarious.
I didn’t respond, waiting to see if she’d entertain me by losing it. But finally she said, “What do you want? Why are you here?”
“Frank is one of my regulars. And you know what?”
I waited, made her say what, only continuing after she did.
“I always hated fucking that guy.” I shook my head in disgust, and what would have been pity, if Lynette Wilder wasn’t such a bitch. “I mean, my God he’s disgusting. A Heffalump, with a Woozle of embarrassing size.” I looked up to the heavens and muttered, “Definitely not your best work.”
Then I looked back down at Lynette, enjoying her trembling bottom lip before going on.
“But, he has a very big mouth, your husband. He loves to
talk. A lot. And I listen to him. Not because I have to, but because it helps to have something else to concentrate on when the nausea creeps in – which happens whenever his cock approaches my mouth. Maybe later you can tell me how you manage to choke it down, but for right now I’d rather discuss a few facts.”
I took a second to study her, wondering if Lynette might actually hit me. I put the odds at an even fifty-fifty.
“Did you know that your husband has been paying off judges?”
That look on her face. No, she didn’t know, but she also wasn’t surprised.
“That’s exactly the kind of thing that would ruin a fancy, high-powered lawyer like him, don’t you agree Lynette?”
I waited. She nodded. Barely.
“I can’t imagine the Bar would be very happy to find out. And it would trigger the sort of financially draining lawsuits that would destroy his practice, and probably every other part of his life. Few families can get through something like that. It takes a special kind of bond, and Lynette, honey, I can tell you from the amount of times I’ve had your husband’s sweaty little sack in my hand, that’s the kind of bond you simply do not have.”
Lynette’s lip curled with disdain as she said, “You have no proof.”
Then I smiled, to chill her.
“You have a good life right now, wouldn’t you agree, Lynette? Of course, you would. Fancy house, fancy cars, fancy boat. And a lot of insurance.”
I could see it on her face. Lynette already knew where this was going to go.
“Things are a little different for me,” I continued. “Because I don’t have the fancy house or car. I’m also not married, or trying to raise a son. So my needs aren’t quite the same. But insurance is security, and a girl like me needs to protect herself. Would you like to see how I did that, Lynette?”
She shook her head and then nodded.
So with a smile I showed her my phone. Screenshots of texts between Frank and a judge, and then a few more texts with a second judge after that.