by B. L. Berry
I raise my brow at her. “Huh?”
“Alex,” she says softly like I should have known he was the obvious answer. “You finally have the opportunity to be with him. Don’t even pretend like you’re not at all interested.”
Of course, this is where she steers the conversation.
“Stop. I’m not even going there right now, Olivia. My heart still belongs to Simon. When he’s not around, I feel like I’m suffocating. It’s like he gives me the air so I can breathe.”
“Ugh! Do you have any idea how resoundingly pathetic you sound right now, Elyse? This man has changed you and not for the better. You feel everything so deeply it’s practically a curse. You’re blinded by his charm. You’re ensnared in his lies … hell, you are the lie, Elyse. He has a wife. He has a baby. You can’t do this anymore. What do you not understand?”
I look around the room. The floor is cluttered with unanswered questions, the windows draped with lies. Even in his absence, his presence is in everything and being here is torture. I groan and then throw my head back onto my pillow again. We stay on my bed in silence for a while, mostly because I have no idea what to say and I’m afraid if I tell her what I’m really feeling she’s going to lay into me even more.
“Look, Elyse. I’m not an idiot. I know you still love him and that hurts. It’s okay to be confused and angry and every emotion in between because I know this isn’t the happy ending you wanted. But what you’re failing to realize is that this is the ending you get to control. You’ve been given the opportunity to serve justice to this prick. Give him exactly what he deserves. You wouldn’t just be doing this for yourself or for Sharna. You’d be doing it for scorned women everywhere. For anyone who has ever been hurt by the hands of a cheater. Don’t you remember how you felt when you learned your fiancé was cheating on you? Surely you can’t forget the rage and the hurt. It took you years to get over … years! And every day you had some ounce of regret for sitting back and not doing anything about it, not getting your vengeance. Don’t you see that this is your moment? Make it right.”
On some level, I know Olivia is right. But I’m not sure I can, to be honest. “That’s some pep talk, you’ve got there.” I struggle to keep my eye roll to a minimum.
“Just think about it, Elyse. Two wrongs don’t make a right. But two wrongs can make you feel really fucking good about the situation. You’d get retribution. And you can live your life without having that kind of regret hanging over your head.”
Retribution.
For all the wrongdoings against me.
Against Sharna.
Against women in general.
Am I that kind of woman? The kind that pours the gasoline, lights the match and walks away with her head held high?
I suppose it’s true. Everyone needs an advocate, even the devil. And right now, Olivia is mine.
“God … can you even imagine the moment when you could witness karma in all of her beautiful, glorious splendor?”
My eyes flash to the clock and it’s drawing near two in the morning.
“It’s getting late, Olivia, and I’ve had the day from hell. I really need to get to bed.” I crawl to the head of my bed and get under the sheets. Since I know there is no way in hell I’m going to fall asleep easily, I grab a sleeping pill from the drawer in my nightstand and swallow it down, not even bothering with water.
Olivia turns off the lamp and then tucks herself in on the other size of my bed, rolling onto her side to look at me. “Elyse, I can’t even begin to imagine how you’re feeling right now. Everything as you knew it was a lie.”
Olivia’s words echo through my mind and I know she’s wrong. Not everything was a lie. While Simon constantly fed me bullshit, my emotions most certainly were not a lie. And I think that’s what hurts the most. I gave him all of me and he was merely a facade.
It’s dark, and I’m thankful she can’t see my face. “No, Olivia, that’s where you’re wrong. I was a very real thing. Quite possible the only real thing in his very fake world. And that is why this hurts so damn much.”
I can’t speak for his relationship with Sharna because I’ll never know what truly happened in their marriage. But I do know what I felt when I was with him. And that was real. I know deep down on some level he loves me. He has to love me. You don’t act like that for entertainment, do you?
“So what are you going to do?”
I exhale all the air from my lungs and push the devil and angel off of my shoulders. “I’m going to help Sharna and then it’s over.” Tears pool in my eyes because I honestly have no clue what I’m going to do. My head wants to plot his murder but my heart wants to talk things out. Understand where he was coming from. See if ever in a million years there were a chance that this was all a huge misunderstanding and that we actually can be together.
Because we are so damn good together.
Apparently too good together because he was too good to be true.
Okay, so maybe a small piece of my heart wants revenge, too.
I wrap myself up tight in the blanket of night.
Close my eyes.
And finally surrender to the pull of sleep.
Thirty-Nine
The Domino Effect
The girl in the mirror doesn’t smile. She doesn’t move much except for the delicate rise of her chest as she takes a shallow breath and the occasional blinking. She’s pale, save for the dark circles under her puffy, blood-shot eyes. She looks sad and sickly … nothing at all like me.
I slip my bathrobe off my shoulders and step into my most comfortable soft, cotton skirt and toss on a plunging plum-colored v-neck T-shirt. I need to make somewhat of an effort if I plan on pulling this off. Then, once I’ve put on some makeup, I venture into the kitchen to take some aspirin. The headache I woke up with this afternoon has only gotten progressively worse.
I guess that’s what I get for mixing a sleeping pill with white wine. Olivia was insistent on helping me drown my sorrows, and the last time I remember looking at the clock it was two thirty-three. I was fortunate enough to have had thirteen hours of blissful, painless sleep.
But then I woke up.
Olivia was gone and all I had was that painful, flashing moment where you remember everything you were desperate to forget and realize that it wasn’t just some terrible nightmare. But rather, that terrible nightmare has become your life.
I’m not certain if I’m physically capable of doing what Sharna has asked of me. How can I pretend that nothing has changed when my entire universe has shifted?
I follow the sound of the television into my modest living room. Simon had let himself into my apartment with the spare key I made him. He is cozied up on the couch watching SportsCenter, feet propped up on my coffee table. His dark hair is messy and the navy argyle button-up sweater is arguably too warm to be wearing in September, but apparently it’s his favorite.
God, he is gorgeous.
Silently I curse myself for the traitorous thoughts.
Simon reaches out his hand and grabs mine. “Hey, is everything okay, babe? You look like hell.”
Ugh. Don’t call me babe. Don’t ever call me anything again.
I half-heartedly allow him to pull me down into his lap and I loosely drape my arms around his shoulders. At the first trace of tears welling up in my eyes, I bury my face into the crook of his neck and inhale the woodsy smell of his cologne, committing it to memory.
When I’m certain my eyes won’t betray me, I pull back and respond. “Yeah, It’s been a really rough week at work. Plus, I haven’t been feeling well the past few days.” At least half of that statement is true.
I scoot off of his lap and sit next to him, staring blankly at the television. I’m not sure I have it in me to pretend.
“How about I take you out tonight? We can have dinner, a few drinks, maybe catch a movie. And then we can come back here and I can take your mind off of things.” The corners of his lips curl up in a wolfish grin and he pushes a loose strand of wet ha
ir out of my eyes.
I swallow my hatred down and affix my eyes to the floor. “I’m really not feeling up for going out, Simon. I’d rather we just stay in if that’s okay.” I’m a little surprised he even mentioned going out since nearly all of our time together has been spent at my apartment with a few occasional visits to his place — or rather his brother’s place.
And as of yesterday, I know why.
“Sure, sure.” He draws me close once again and feathers a kiss on my forehead. “Whatever my girl wants. How about I put a delivery order in at that Thai place you love so much? We can watch a movie and just relax.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, readjusting myself on the couch as grabs his phone to look at their online menu.
The cartons of takeout rest on the coffee table and I’m not even paying attention to the movie we’re watching. It’s some action film on cable that Simon was excited about. I’ve got bigger things on my mind than some ass wipe driving a fast car off of a cliff. Though, right about now, I wouldn’t mind being that asshole.
Wait. Maybe I am? Because what I’m about to do is akin to suicide on some level.
The conversation has been fairly nonexistent all night long and I’ve spent the last two hours working on a few things for one of my clients. And by working I mean thoughtlessly browsing Facebook while mustering up the courage to actually record myself fucking another woman’s husband.
I can do this.
I take a deep breath and brace myself, then stealthily hit the record button, minimizing all of the programs to the toolbar. Even though the screen goes black, the tiny little green light tells me that we’re in business. So I swallow my pride, my guilt and my dignity as I push the open laptop onto the other end of my coffee table and wait for him to make his move.
And in true Simon fashion, I don’t have to wait for long. After all, I am his favorite kind of sin.
The twitch of his thumb sets it all in motion. The first domino that knocks down the next and causes the rippling effect, destroying everything in its path.
His thumb flutters ever so slightly on my knee. I’m not even sure if he realizes he’s doing it. But I don’t dare react to it. I just watch it stroke my milky white skin softly … back and forth and back again.
Just when I’ve tuned the sensation out, I feel him slowly graze his hand up my thigh. The delicate touch of the back side of his fingers electrocute my body and I’m hyperaware of everything he is doing. He’s still focused on the movie, but clearly his attention has diverted toward what he wants. Me.
When his pinky skims the outside of my panties, my breath hitches. He is hitting all the right spots and at just the right teasing pressure.
He’s not yours, Elyse. You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Pull your shit together.
I lick my lips and take a deep breath, steeling myself for what is about to happen. Simon delicately runs his fingers between my legs, dipping his fingers inside my body so he can spread the wetness up and around my clit.
I release a shaky breath, hating how my body had defied my mind. This shouldn’t be pleasurable. This is wrong. He’s married. He’s going to be a father.
But part of me doesn’t even care. I still feel for Simon in spite of my hatred and his bullshit. The very man who taught me how to love again is the same man who taught me how to hate on a level I never imagined possible. Even still, my body opens up to his touch so easily and fuck if his teasing doesn’t feel incredible.
I allow a soft groan to escape my lips and spread my legs open a little wider for him, an invitation for one final dance with the devil. I close my eyes and remember the purpose, remember why I am here, in this moment, and it’s like my insides fall out of my body. My heart loses the war. Every fiber of my being wants retaliation.
Simon leans in to kiss me and I respond half-heartedly. It’s so painful. I’m desperate to rewind time and unlearn the things I know now. But I know I need to sell this so he doesn’t suspect anything. He can’t know that I know. And so I force myself to deepen the kiss and a pleasurable groan erupts from my chest. And as guilty and pleasurable as I’m feeling in this moment, with our tongues intertwined, I know my lips will never forget the taste of his lies.
When my fingers trail the buckle of his belt, he brushes my hands away and makes quick work of the leather. And before I know it, his boxer briefs are chasing his jeans down his hips, revealing his impressive length standing upright at full attention.
His fingers skim my skin and he grabs my chin, forcing eye contact with him. “I want you to take it all, like the real fucking lady I know you are.”
I swallow hard and for half a second, sit there stunned. Then I force myself to purr at his words.
You can do this. You can do this. You can do it.
The little pride I have left is shoved in the corner and adrenaline is wired through my body. I kneel down in front of him and take his hard length in the palm of my hand before bringing my lips down to the tip, and slowly sucking it.
I make quick work of his dick, working my hand and my mouth in tandem. Smudging my lipstick, no doubt. And all while resisting the urge to literally sink my teeth into his cock. I want to chew this man up and spit him out like the piece of shit that he is.
When I foolishly graze my top incisors over Simon’s shaft he sucks a quick breath between his teeth, recoiling in pain.
“Careful!” he seethes.
Damn. That felt good.
Simon pushes himself up on the couch and lifts me up from my knees. It’s clear he knows exactly what he wants. Quickly, he tugs my panties down underneath my skirt and looks me with a malevolent spark in his eyes before pulling my shirt up and over my head and freeing my breasts from the confines of my bra.
“Leave this on,” he commands, gesturing to my skirt.
We swap positions and Simon leans down over me, forcing me onto my back. His lips are on my neck and my breasts and my stomach. He’s everywhere and a million miles away all at once.
“God, I want you.”
I say nothing, but nod.
He strokes himself and when I close my eyes, I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. It’s the point of no return. I am on the verge of destroying the last little piece of me that is still pure of heart.
I know I’m not an innocent woman, but this is a whole new level for me.
“Hey,” he says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. And I look back up at him. “I love you.”
There’s an honesty in his tone that absolutely crushes my already ruined heart. It’s the first time he’s told me he loves me. But true love isn’t capable of a destruction like this. What he feels for me isn’t love. It’s convenience. A fucking game.
I respond to his lie with my truth. “And I love you, Simon.”
Because I do. And I’d only be fooling myself if I said otherwise.
And in one aggressive motion, he thrusts himself into my body, filling me whole. My heart and my mind reject the notion, but my body betrays me as a moan slips past my lips and I clench onto his length. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I shouldn’t like the familiar scent of sex lingering in the air. And I certainly should not enjoy how his body feels when we’re separated by only a condom and a thin sheen of sweat.
Simon wastes no time. He starts thrusting in and out of my body at a rapid pace. I yelp as his body collides with mine over and over and over again. But when his strong lips come crashing onto mine, I bite his bottom lip and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him in close. The heat of his breath as he buries his face in my neck nearly sends me over the edge.
I’m thankful that I can’t look at him because right now I can’t stand looking at him, which is odd considering he’s inside of me right now. The feel of his skin against mine makes my insides recoil and maims my heart.
Visions of Sharna and her beautiful, swollen belly flood my mind. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the thoughts of her unborn son growing inside of her. Pieces of her … pieces of him. And not only do I thi
nk about all of the damage this man has done, but I think about all the damage I’ve caused without knowing.
My nails dig deeper into his skin. I’m sure he thinks it’s a passionate reaction in the throes of this intense moment. But really it’s to keep his body pressed against mine so I don’t have to look into his eyes and witness the betrayal on so many deep levels.
“My God, Elyse … You are so fucking incredible,” he cries out in a moment of worship.
I shut my eyes tight and bite my bottom lip, trying to ignore his comment as I fight back the tears. He pounds into me over and over and over again. I force a moan and brazenly grind my hips against his.
Every move I make is calculated. I push away the thoughts of pleasure and take back control of my own body. I refuse to let it betray me.
Each time my body clashes with his, I envision him fucking his wife, taking her ounce for ounce. Fulfilling her in the way that only a husband can fulfill his wife. Not just with force, but with love.
A love that they no longer have.
A love that we will never have.
But a tiny sliver of me wishes that in some alternate universe, one where there are no lies, we could have had that. That a love that fierce would be inevitable between us.
I turn my head toward the laptop and look directly into the little green light, signifying we’re still recording and I stare into it. I can tell he’s getting close when he buries his head into the curve of my neck and his legs tense up.
“Fuck … Elyse!”
“Simon!” I cry out, clenching all of my muscles and thrust my body upwards, doing the best I can to fake it. I give him something to remember me by as I fuck him like it’s our last goodbye. Because it is. When he walks out that door, I’ll never see him again.
Simon’s body collapses on top of mine. I close my eyes and inaudibly whisper, “I’m sorry.”
To him? To myself? To Sharna? I’m not sure.
We never kiss.
We never make eye contact.