by Amy Isan
Was the blonde woman in the picture his wife, or someone else? A mistress? I felt my back pocket, checking to see if the picture was still there. It was.
I dreaded confronting him about it for some reason. Maybe I was scared of the answer.
He came in as I finished washing up, and opened a cabinet.
“Would you like a toddy, as a dessert?”
I nodded. He casually moved to retrieve two glasses and pulling down a bottle of scotch.
“How do you know I don’t want something softer, like wine?”
“Because of the way you drank on the airplane. You aren’t into light drinks. You can handle the hard stuff.”
Hugh handed me a half filled glass of coffee. I watched as he poured another for himself. It was a bit strange drinking with him. He was already drinking when I met him in high school, but I always stayed sober and dry. Now that we were drinking together, it felt weird.
He held his glass up, and toasted; “To rekindling old passions.” We clinked our glasses together, and downed them simultaneously.
I wrinkled my nose. I forgot I hadn’t had a chance to shower since yesterday, and it was starting to catch up with me.
“Mind if I use your shower?”
“By all means,” he said. “There should be a clean towel in there.”
“Perfect.”
I set the glass down on the counter, and wandered in his bedroom. My mind was still burning. Who was his wife?
***
I closed the bathroom door, and immediately noticed that there wasn’t any lock on the handle. The shower wasn’t the whole square box affair I was used to: it was tucked behind a distorted glass wall, no door keeping anyone from walking in. The only thing that kept the water from running all over the bathroom was a small lip of marble.
Needless to say, it was extravagant. Light filtered through the glass and jumped all over the stall, giving it an comforting atmosphere.
I pulled the picture out of my back pocket, thankful to see that it wasn’t kinked or creased in any way. Maybe I was just jealous of the woman in the photo; after all, it wasn’t like Hugh had a picture of me hidden deep in his office drawer. I hid it back inside my jeans and carefully placed them in the corner of the bathroom. I slipped out of the rest of my clothes, and made my way behind the glass wall to the shower.
There were two shower heads, each one on opposite walls. I guess you could get quite soaked if you really wanted to. Maybe for a partner? Did people actually do that?
I turned the tap, and water sprang out of the shower head, a firm pressure to it. Steam quickly began rising in wispy tendrils.
I was used to waiting for what felt like ages for a shower to get warm, so I was already in heaven. I climbed in and let the warmth soothe my racing mind.
I looked for what I expected would be manly soap options, and wasn’t disappointed. A body fragrance that made you smell like pine and tobacco, and a shampoo of spearmint. It must’ve worked, because every time I got a whiff of his scent, I felt like I was reeling. Or was that the alcohol?
I was rinsing out my hair when I heard the click of the bathroom door. I struggled to open my eyes, something I’ve always hated doing, and saw Hugh stripping down to join me. I could just barely make his shape out through the distorted glass, and I bit my lip in anticipation of him coming around. I knew he could see me, just my naked outline. Was he just as thrilled as me?
He pushed his clothes aside with a foot, and came into the shower.
He was smiling arrogantly, but I couldn’t help but blush at his confidence. I’d never showered with anyone else before. It had been so long since I saw him naked. He had certainly filled out since high school.
Though he had never been unfit, he just looked older. He didn’t have what he had now: chiseled abs, with that deeply grooved valley near his hips. My skin grew warmer, and I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes. He stepped up to me, our toes just touching each other.
He leaned close, but didn’t touch me with his hands yet. His hand reached behind me and grasped his loofa, while his other hand grabbed the body wash. The pine tree and tobacco one.
It felt... dangerous. His lips were inches away from mine, and I glanced down and saw him engorged.
He set the body wash back down, and touched my back with the loofa, the suds cascading over me.
“I’ve never had a man clean me before,” I whispered. He didn’t answer. He brought the loofa from my back to my breasts, carefully lathering them. The smell from the body wash hit me like a wall, and I nearly choked inhaling it so deeply.
He took my wrist, and held up my arm as he dragged the loofa across it. I don’t know if it was because of the toddy hitting me, or that dream-like look he had in his eyes, but I was completely his. I was at his command.
He took my other arm and washed it as well, before running the sponge back to my stomach.
I jumped a little, suddenly noticing his erection. He acted as if it wasn’t there, moving the sponge down and slathering both my legs in soap.
“Turn,” he said, an unrevealing tone in his voice. He put a hand over my eyes and pushed me under the stream of water. The soap ran down in channels. He was closer to me now, and his cock pushed against my ass.
“Caitlin.” He gently moved my shoulders, and I turned back around to face him. I could just taste a kiss on my lips.
He leaned down to meet me, and pushed his lips against mine. I held him to me, our kiss lasting for what felt like centuries. Nothing else mattered at that moment.
When I pulled away, he had a curious look.
“Did you still want me to choke you?”
I had forgotten about our conversation, and he must’ve seen it in my face. “If you want,” I said.
I nodded, “I want you to choke me.”
“If you feel like things are getting too intense, just say ‘red,’ okay?”
“Okay.”
He slid his hand across my shoulder, a light touch, which only surprised me more when he took a hold of my hair and yanked my head back.
I winced, but more playfully than anything. He leaned in close, and kissed my neck. Then he put his hand on me, and squeezed, pushing me against the shower wall. It was slippery from excess soap, and I slid into the corner of the stall as he pushed.
I gasped, both enraged and amazed at how turned on I was. I reached out and stroked his wet cock, admiring its hard ridge underneath my fingers. He grunted in pleasure, moving close to me, and loosening his grip on my neck.
I gasped for air, a sense of satisfaction washing over me.
“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he muttered. He stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. He knotted it around his waist, his wet footprints leading out into his bedroom.
I followed, a warmth growing between my legs. If I hadn’t just been soaking in water, I could have guaranteed I’d be soaking wet anyway.
Back in the bedroom, the sun’s setting rays turned the room orange. The sounds of the night were beginning to echo outside the open balcony door. It was still refreshingly warm outside.
He turned on the lamp, and patted the bed beside him. His towel was loose, and I could almost taste his cock in my mouth. That sultry power I would have over him, however fleeting, would be amazing.
“Get over here and get on your knees.”
I did as he commanded, moving closer and kneeling down. He opened his towel, his cock engorged and needy.
I scooted closer to him, his knees parted for me. “Let’s get rid of this thing,” he said, tugging at my towel and making it fall in a heap.
My skin was still moist from the shower, and my wet hair dampened my back. He held his hand against my cheek, “Look at me, Cay.”
It was hard to focus on his eyes, I just wanted to hear him moan again.
I wrapped my fingers around his cock, taking pleasure in his twitch and groan. He leaned back on his elbows, watching me work my magic.
“Your mouth, Caitlin. I wanna see your m
outh full of my dick, and you can’t use your hands.”
I nodded, and let go. I leaned closer, and parted my lips, guiding his shaft into me with my tongue.
He twitched again, moaning loud. Yes, that’s it, moan for me.
I twisted my tongue around his shaft, wetting it more than it already was. A drop of pre-cum oozed out the tip, and I gulped it down along with my saliva.
He shuddered, “Faster.”
I reached back and gathered my hair up into a taut pony-tail, and held it away from my mouth. I pushed down onto him, taking him as deep as I could go before my eyes watered.
His member twitched inside me, slamming against the roof of my mouth. I steadied it with my lips, holding him tight.
Then I sucked, sucked like I was trying to drain him dry. If I sucked hard enough, I could coax out his seed, drain him and swallow it. Leave him begging for more.
He didn’t give me a chance though, and after a moment of sucking him down, he pushed me away. “I’ll be the one to decide when this little game is over,” he said. He ordered me to climb up on the bed.
I smiled, and he grabbed me by the hips, and picked me up. He threw me against the mattress, making me bounce slightly.
Before I could regain my bearings, he was upon me. His left hand held me down against the sheets, while he cupped and fondled my breast.
I squirmed under his touch, my skin electrified with energy. I breathed hard, his tongue piercing me. “More, more.”
He pushed down from my breast.
His hand moved between my legs, and he kissed me there. I closed my eyes, and let myself dissolve into him. I gasped, grabbing the sheets in two fistfuls. I pulled against them, threatening to undo the entire bed.
He drank me up, greedily and with a sense of thirst. I wrapped my legs around his head and held him into me, and he choked for a moment, before I let go.
After he caught his breath, he whispered to me. “You surprise me, Cay.”
“It’s been longer than you think,” I said. I grasped his hair, tugging on his scalp, wishing I could control him. That I could feel like I was controlling something. He ignored me, moving down the line of my body. I let out a gasp when he grabbed my legs and spread them. That vulnerability was face-reddening.
His breath felt hot on my lips, and I could barely anticipate him moving in closer. He let out a deep sigh, before he dipped down and ran his tongue against my clit again. I squirmed against his mouth, which seemed to only incense him more.
He squeezed my thighs and held me down against the sheets, his tongue caressing me in ways I hadn’t experienced in years. I felt hot sparks as I moved against him, shutting my eyes to stop the room from spinning.
“I want you, I want you to have me, Hugh,” I whispered. He kissed me again. I was letting him do whatever he wanted with me, but I felt this sense of urgency, this kind of hurried frenzy in him. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t question it either.
He put his arm around me, and picked me up, placing me on top of him. While it felt like I might be able to wrest some control from him, he was still in command.
Catching his breath, he grabbed his chest. He stood up. “Now I’m gonna fuck you like the dirty girl you are.” He opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a condom. He split the package and rolled it over his cock, almost as if it were second nature.
I closed my eyes, waiting.
I opened my legs for him, beckoning him to come closer. He squeezed my hips, dragging me away from the bunched up sheets and hanging my ass off the edge of the bed.
I felt his cock twitch against me, as he threaded it between my thighs.
He placed his hand on my shoulder, pulling me close and lifting me into the air. I moaned, touching his hand with my cheek.
He slid his cock into me, his shaft filling me up. I wished it could be skin on skin, but I was glad he didn’t go that far. He guided my body over him with his hand, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me toward him.
I gasped aloud, and squeezed the sheets. They untucked themselves at my mercy. Hugh groaned as he slid himself deeper into me, our bodies meeting together for the first time in years.
I couldn’t stop myself. As he stroked his cock inside me, he moaned. He clawed at my body, catching my breast and making me gasp in pleasure.
I grabbed his hand and put it on my neck. He squeezed, and groped the air out of me. As he did, his speed picked up, his hips meeting mine every second.
“Oh shit, Caitlin! You like it when I fuck you raw like this? Huh?” I gasped, a breath of air escaping my lips.
A growing wall of heady warmth spread inside me, curling around my insides and expanding outward. My arms grew limp, and I couldn’t stop from lifting myself off the bed. I wrapped my legs around his waist, digging him as deep into me as he could go. “Hugh! I’m going to—” I felt everything grow dim, my vision losing itself. I didn’t know if it was from him choking me, or just the intensity of it all.
He groaned, his body language changing. I could tell he was about reach his limit.
“Fuck!” he cried out, thrusting one last time into me. My eyes grew wide, and I stared at him. After a couple, hard, climatic seconds, he let go of my neck. He pulled out of me.
I gasped for air, wheezing. I soothed my neck, rubbing it.
He climbed up next to me, his cock still encased in rubber, proof of his climax inside it.
“Are you okay?” His voice was much softer now. I nodded, getting one last hack out.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay.” I relaxed my body, throbbing waves still glowing inside me. “That was incredible. I’ve never been able to get someone to choke me again.”
“Again?”
I caught his eye. “Only one other man has ever dared to choke me, and he was terrifying.”
He looked down over me, letting his hand travel across my skin. “You aren’t,” I added. I was still shaken from our first reunion after so long, but my mind immediately taunted me. Who was the woman in the picture?
He stood up off the bed. “I’m going to take care of this,” he pointed at the condom. I nodded, my thoughts far away.
Before he could disappear behind the bathroom door, my impatience finally got the better of me.
“Who is the blonde woman in the picture I found at your office?”
He stopped and looked at me, bewilderment in his eyes. I looked away. “The picture is in the back left pocket of my jeans.”
After the bathroom door closed, I heard him rustling in my clothes.
He came back into the room, stark naked, holding the picture. He sat down on the bed, and looked at me.
“This is my wife.”
Chapter 4
“Your wife,” I repeated. “Not your mistress?”
“No, not my mistress. That’s my wife,” he said. His voice was firm.
“Then why was it hidden in your desk at work?” I tried to keep my voice civil, but I was kind of rushing through a bunch of emotions at once. It was hard to keep calm. “Why are you still wearing your wedding ring if you’re married? I need the truth, Hugh.” I pointed to his finger.
“She’s dead.”
I fell silent.
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. It was only slightly damp. His posture slackened, and he collapsed on the bed. Our heads were adjacent but not facing at each other.
“She died three years ago, in a car crash.”
I was struck. My chest tightened and I inhaled sharply. “I’m— I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I was driving at least. We were heading back from her parents house, and it was late in the night. We came across a deer in a mountain pass, and I swerved to dodge it, but like all deer accidents, it isn’t the one you miss.”
I wanted to comfort him but I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t move.
“The deer rolled up onto the windshield, crashing through it. I was fine, but only because all of its weight landed on her.”
“God t
hat’s horrible.” My hand went to my forehead. I turned over to face him, giving myself the courage to caress his chest. “What was her name?”
“Her name is Marcia,” his voice cracked, but he maintained his composure. “The damnedest thing is, her parents offered for us to stay there for the night. We wanted to get home though, we were trying to have a family...”
He went silent. “I had no idea, Hugh.” I wanted to say something more, something that might help. Something that would make him feel better.
“You couldn’t have. That’s why I didn’t want to talk about it — it still takes a lot out of me.”
He squeezed his left hand, curling his fingers around his gold band. I touched him, holding my hand against his back. What could I possibly do to ease him?
I climbed up out of bed, and went into the kitchen. Maybe water would help, it usually helped me.
I filled a glass with cold water from the tap, and went back into his room.
He was curled up on the bed, having barely moved. I handed him the water.
“Here, drink this.” I put the glass in his hand, and he took it. He lifted the glass and drank it all in one go. “Do you want to talk about her...? Will it help?” I wanted to help, but at the same time, I felt sick. I felt like I didn’t belong here with him, that I might just be some kind of replacement to him. Was I? Was that the only reason he picked me up in Maine?
“I don’t know. I felt like I haven’t talked about her in ages.”
I curled up on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. The rush of blood made it all so much more real.
“We met in college,” he began, uneasiness in his voice. “We both had this filler history class together... Medieval history.” He smirked a little, which made me feel better. “I actually thought the class was really neat though.”
I breathed, my own heart rate starting to match his.
“I sat across the room from her and the first thing I noticed were her dimples. They showed every time she talked, smiled, or laughed. By this point, I’d had a couple of flings, but I could tell this was different.”
He leaned down and breathed into my hair. He planted a kiss on my head. “It was like when I met you.”