by Mia Faye
The tiny voice in my head popped up, reminding me that I was doing this for Tyler, my best friend. He needed the money for his restaurant, and this was a simple arrangement that would ensure he got it fast. Just a friend helping out another friend by pretending to be married to yet another friend.
There was another voice, much smaller, though. One that wondered aloud if that was really my only motivation, and wasn’t it easier to just ask Cam to loan me the money? But he hadn’t asked any questions when I brought it up. He seemed okay with paying me; he insisted on it, actually. It was a lot to ask, he said, and he was happy to reimburse me for my troubles.
Then there was the whole moral debate I’d been having with myself. I had been high when I agreed to all this, so I was more susceptible than usual to Cam’s charms. Now, though, I wasn’t so sure what to make of all this. I didn’t know anything about Cam’s ex beyond the largely unflattering picture he’d painted. Even so, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to get involved in something so personal.
Still, I found myself going over there, and once I sat across from him talking about our ‘marriage’, it was easy to forget about all the other stuff.
We spent the remainder of the day creating and going over our backstory. That was easily the most enjoyable part for me. We basically had these templates, these two characters who existed in the real world, and whose lives we then had to fabricate to reach a scenario where they would reasonably be married.
It was a rare opportunity for me to flex my storytelling and editorial skills. It was almost like being a kid again, imagining the perfect love story, and planning out the rest of my life with some handsome stranger. Except, in this case, the handsome stranger was seated right across from me, and he would occasionally chip in with a correction like, “I think it’s better if we say we had one of those courtroom weddings. Nothing complicated, because then we’d have to show pictures and stuff.”
“Wait, won’t we still need a certificate?” I chipped in. “In case she demands to see one?”
“We will don’t worry. I can download one from the internet easily enough.”
Once we had the backstory nailed down, we moved on to the more practical aspects of our marriage. Cam and I had a little photoshoot; we went around the house in different outfits, staging and taking as many different photos as we could and creating the ‘visual evidence of our love.’ Some he sent to Gabriel, who he claimed was better at photoshop than he was. Most of the others we printed and framed, then dotted strategically around the house. By the time we were finishing, it was evening. The whole day had gone by so fast I had barely noticed it.
“I’m going to order us a pizza,” Cam said, glancing at his watch and yawning loudly.
“I think I have some leftover beef casserole in the fridge,” I said.
“Sounds delicious,” Cam said in a falsely cheery voice that meant he was being sarcastic. “But how about I order a pizza just in case one of us doesn’t want to eat leftovers, huh?”
“That’s no way to speak to your wife,” I said. “Especially after she slaved and slaved to get that meal ready for you.”
Cam grinned. “I’m sorry, pet.” He leaned in and planted a big kiss on my cheek. “You know I love your cooking.”
We ended up eating the pizza because we were both too tired to make the trip over to the other apartment, and Cam was convinced the casserole would have gone bad by now.
We were so tired we went to bed almost immediately. I watched Cam undress, and his eyes were similarly sharp as I took a shower and came out in my nightgown. But neither of us said anything. When we got in bed, I felt him slide up to me and put his arms around me, and the warmth and comfort sent me to sleep almost immediately.
The planning process was much longer and more detailed than I had anticipated. There was so much that needed to be done to make Cam’s house ‘more domesticated’ to infuse it with the feminine energy it so desperately needed, which meant a lot of pinks, randomly through the house. Pink slippers in the bathroom. Switching out the bedroom curtains from boring, predictable black to a friendlier maroon with gold stars scattered across the fabric. It also meant doing a complete overhaul of the kitchen because the man had only a basic understanding of space and utility. I could tell he rarely cooked; his drawers were full of takeout menus, and several of the things in his pantry were unopened.
For dinner, I decided to keep it as simple as possible. Chicken parmesan. The chicken was as safe a choice as you could make, and it was easy enough to make.
A few hours before Vicki was supposed to arrive, Cam snuck up behind me and snaked his arms around me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, even as I let my body fall back into his. I hated how my body just seemed to fit along with his; we had been cuddling every night, and I had gotten so used to the feel of him behind me I almost forgot we weren’t actually married.
“I just wanted to say thanks for this,” Cam said.
“It’s the least I could do,” I said, smiling. I thought I felt something long and hard prod the back of my thigh lightly.
“One thing is missing, though...”
Cam let his hands drop from around me, and I turned around to face him.
“What?” I asked.
“We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to be all over each other.”
Somehow, I didn’t think that was going to be a problem.
“What are you trying to say?”
Cam reached for me so fast I had no time to react. Or think. Or blink. Or do anything but gasp softly as his head came down, and part my lips as he met them in a searing kiss.
It was quick and dirty. Cam pushed me both with his lips and his body. The counter was digging into the small of my back, but the pressure of his body was unrelenting. He kissed me hard, with passion and abandon as if he was trying to make a point like he had been starved of that contact for so long, and he was coming up out of the water for a breath of fresh air.
He pulled away just as suddenly. I had never felt so confused, so discombobulated. I blinked several times to remind myself of where I was. I laid a hand on my chest in a futile attempt to still my beating heart and let out a deep sigh as I looked up at Cam. My lips felt swollen and tingly. Both sets.
“That,” Cam said. “That’s what I was trying to say. We need to be like that in front of Vicki.”
“Right,” I said, although I still wasn’t sure what he was talking about. It all came back to me slowly.“Oh,” I said. “What does that accomplish, exactly?”Besides, make her jealous? Was he trying to make her jealous? Was that what this was really about?
“It shows her we have great chemistry, that we’re good together.”
“Okay,” I said. But there was a little hurt in my voice, and Cam noticed it right away.
“Hey,” he said. He lifted my chin to his face, as he so often did, and made me look into his eyes, those unreal pools of stunning blue. It was nearly impossible to keep looking into them.
“This isn’t about her,” he said. Everything about his demeanor was earnest, desperately pleading for me to believe him. “I couldn’t care less about her. This is about Emma. I’m doing this for Emma. If Vicki sees that there is a home here, then at the very least she backs off, drops the idea of a custody battle, and then I can work out how to see my daughter more. That’s allI’m trying to do, okay?”
I nodded and tried to force a smile onto my face.
“That kiss was unfair,” I pointed out, and Cam grinned.
“Yeah?”
“Totally. Should have been included in the list of outlawed things.”
“Hmm. And how about this?”Cam’s fingers, which had been hovering over the hem of my apron, suddenly brushed the fabric aside and drove lower, seeking out and finding my dress and sneaking past it.
They found my thighs hot and eager. I tried to clamp my legs shut, but they practically fell open on their own. Cam brushed his hand over the soft flesh on the inside of my thighs, and I gritted my
teeth and shook my head.
“Yeah,” I mumbled incoherently. “That too.”
The softest touch right at the front of my panties. Feather-light, causing the hairs on my whole body to prick up.
“Okay. What about this?”
The fingers brushed once more against the panties, and then I felt them lock around the sides of the panties and brush them aside.
My heart was pounding once more, loud drumming that sounded deafening in my ears. I gripped Cam, burying my head in his shoulder and biting my lower lip to keep myself from screaming.
Cam found my wetness with practiced precision. He played with the folds of my lips for a short time, then finally ventured past them, curling upward to touch the hood of my clitoris.
I was trembling now. My legs were like jelly; I suspected they would give way any time now. Now he was on my clitoris, his touch still gentle, his fingers quick as they rubbed and teased around it.
I threw out a hand, desperate to do to him what he was doing to me. My hand slapped something warm and hard, and I followed the outline of the sweatpants he was wearing, yanking at the strings, and then finding my way inside. I wrapped my fingers around his length, and the sharp intake of breath from him was almost as erotic as the feel of him. I wanted him inside me so badly… I needed it. Nothing else mattered. I couldn’t remember how we got to this point, but I was glad we had. Why had we wasted so much time not doing this? How had I spent so many nights curled up with him instead of him being inside me?
He seemed to read my mind. As I stroked and squeezed his cock, he tugged hard at my panties, and I heard them tear. He reached down and grabbed me by the hips, lifting me onto the counter. He leaned in and reached between us with his hand, placing himself at my apex, teasing me with the thick head of his cock. And, as I stared into his piercing blue eyes, burying himself inside me with a quick stroke.
Bliss.
Just then, though, the shrill sound of a doorbell cut through the air, breaking into our little bubble and causing Cam to pause mid-thrust.
“No!” I said, my voice low and hoarse. I shimmied, shaking my hips, trying to get him to keep fucking me.
“She’s here,” he said, looking in the direction of the door.
Let her wait I wanted to say. Fuck me, dammit!
But I knew he wouldn’t. The moment, magical as it had been, was gone.
He pulled out and backed away from me. He reached down and pulled his pants back up. His cock stuck out of the front, almost comically large and distended. He smiled at me, leaned in for another quick peck on the cheek, and then he turned and walked out of the kitchen in the direction of the bathroom. When he returned, the boner was gone.
I dropped myself from the counter with a disappointed sigh. I heard the door open and made my way over there. Cam was standing across from two people. Not one, as we had expected. The woman was clearly Vicki. Next to her, a short, balding man was pumping Cam’s hand with false cheeriness.
“Hi,” he was saying. “I’m Mike, Vicki’s boyfriend.”
Chapter 16
Cameron
Mike was short. And old. And he had a shiny bald pate he actually seemed to be proud of.
Of all the people I had assumed Vicki would be dating, this guy would never have crossed my mind. He was as far removed from her type as a person could be; Vicki liked tall, well-built, athletic men. Mike had a dad bod. It was baffling, to say the least.
But the thing that irritated me the most about Mike, seconds after meeting him, was his forced pleasantness. He beamed when he saw me. He greeted me with the enthusiasm of a fan meeting their idol. His handshake was firm if a little too aggressive. I suddenly wished I hadn’t just washed my hands. He had the demeanor of a mild-mannered middle-aged teacher, and I wasn’t sure why, but it made me want to throttle him. Maybe it was because I knew Vicki, and she ate men like Mike for breakfast. Vicki didn’t do nice men. She dated assholes and slept with worse assholes. This was… curious.
“You can let his hand go now, Cam,” Vicki said, jarring me back to the present. She looked smug.
“Right.”
Mike drifted over to Yvette, who I hadn’t noticed walk up. Something bright red caught my eye close to her foot, and I looked down to see the torn shreds of the panties I had just ripped from her. A reluctant smile crept up on my face.
“You must be Yvette,” Mike said, bringing Yvette’s hand to his lips and kissing it. Pretentious too. What a shocker.
Vicki walked over to me and leaned over to whisper in my ear.“Not bad,” she commented, nodding in the direction of Yvette. “Which street corner did you drag her from?”
“The one next to the retirement home where you clearly met your boyfriend.”
Vicki bristled.
“Just so you know, I don’t believe this façade for a second.”
“I don’t need you to believe it. I need you to see it.”
I started to step away from her, but she grabbed my hand and pulled me back.“Mike gives me orgasms every time we have sex,” she whispered. She must have envisioned it as a surefire way to make me jealous, which could only mean she was jealous of herself. This was going to be an interesting dinner.
“Good for you,” I whispered back. “I was literally inside Yvette when you rang the doorbell.”It was petty and childish, but I couldn’t help it. That’s what Vicki did; she brought out the absolute worst version of me.
I shrugged off her hand and went over to Mike and Yvette. She must have told him about work because he was waxing lyrical about his brief experience with publishing companies.
I leaned down and picked up the panties, making sure Vicki was watching, and then I stuffed them into my pocket. I slid a hand around Yvette’s waist and pulled her in close. Without missing a beat, Vicki dashed forward and grabbed Mike’s hand.
“So, Vicki,” I said, smiling through gritted teeth. “We weren’t expecting both you and Mike.”I didn’t have the patience for subtlety. But I had no doubt as to why she had brought him. It was the exact same reason she was now caressing his arm slowly. Showing off her new man. Wanting me to see that she had moved on.
“I know!” Vicki said. “I’m terrible at these social things, to be honest. And Mike is the total opposite. He thrives in any social setting, isn’t that right, babe? So, I figured I’d bring him along for moral support. You know?”
“And Emma?”
“She’s at her music classes. We’re picking her up on the way home.”
I stared at her as her words sank in. That had been deliberate. She wanted me to know that she knew what Emma and I had talked about. That I had asked Emma about music classes. And that I had suggested she shouldn’t have to give up anything just because her mother said so. It was yet another subtle dig, a reminder that she was the active parent, and the best I could do was look on.
“Well, I’m just happy she’s doing something she loves.”
“Oh, she is.”
We continued to stare at each other for a long time, the naked animosity radiating between us until Yvette nudged me slightly in the arm, and I snapped out of it.
“Please, join us.”
We ushered them into the living room, and Yvette went to fetch them drinks. Vicki didn’t sit down immediately. She walked first to the spot where my exercise bike had been before Yvette moved it, and then to the old drink cabinet where most of my photos were mounted. She stood there for some time, looking from one photo to another, her posture rigid and skeptical.
“You two make a lovely couple,” she said when she finally joined Mike on the couch.
“Oh, yes,” Mike agreed. He turned to Yvette, who was returning with drinks. She looked so homey and domestic, it was almost amusing, with her apron and her hair secured in a tight bun.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you smell wonderful.”
Yvette and I exchanged glances, and it took everything in me not to burst into laughter.
“Thank you,” Yvette said.
; “So, and I know this is a cliché question,” Mike asked. “But how did you two meet?”
From the way he asked it, I knew Vicki had put him up to it. And I suddenly understood why she had brought him. It was partly to flaunt her new man in my face, true, but mostly, Mike was going to play good cop. She had probably drilled him on what to ask, when to ask it, and who to direct his questions to. That way she could sit back and watch, wait for someone to make a mistake. The strategy clearly hinged on their perception of Yvette as the weak link. They must have thought they could get her to crack.
“Oh, it’s such a long and tedious story,” Yvette said. “How about you tell them, hun?”
“No, no. You’re the storyteller. You take this one.”
We had been over that story a hundred times. Back at the dinner with Wyatt and Grace Flores, the story had been created on the spot. A bit of improvisation on my part. But we had revised and perfected it over the last few days. It was watertight in addition to being charming and romantic, and Yvette recited it perfectly.
“How about you two?” I asked when Yvette was done. “I spoke with Vicki a few weeks ago, and she didn’t mention you. This must be recent?”
Mike didn’t respond immediately. He looked over at Vicki, who opened her mouth then seemed to think better of it and closed it.
“Uh, I’m sure she was going to tell you in her own time.”
“Right.”
“How did we meet? Well, I should give you a little context. I have a car dealership over on 5th and Lincoln. And one day, this little girl sprints into the store and makes a beeline for one of the cars in our window display. The problem was the display was hidden behind this very fine but very strong glass case. It’s very hard to see, especially if you’re running at full speed. So, this little girl didn’t see it, and she ran right into it, wiped out on the floor, and started crying.
“I go over to her quickly, check to see if she’s okay, but I can’t get her to stop crying. Then I hear footsteps, and I look up, and the only thing I see is this blurry motion, and I don’t know how, but the next moment, I’m sprawled on my ass on the floor.