Sudden Impact. Chapter 2.
He lifts her fringe from her face again, his body lumbers as he thrusts forward and she grits her teeth and throws her head back against the couch. The position is impossibly uncomfortable, but the pleasure seems to override the ache in her spine. She locks her legs around the back of his thighs and pulls him deeper, so deep that he’s pushing against the neck of her cervix.
“I can’t help but feel a little hypocritical,” She mumbles.
His thick hands hold her waist against him as he rocks inside of her. A bead of sweat trickles from his brow as he concentrates, there’s no way she could ever call him a half-assed lover.
“I don’t think it’s the same,” He pants into her neck. “Not when you know he’s doing it too.”
He withdraws and sinks back into her warmth again and again and the momentum is enough to satisfy the cravings inside of her. His cock is so hot and hard and when he hits that spot, the one that makes her toes curl, she thinks that maybe she’s just died and gone to heaven.
“Do you think it will work?”
He shrugs, his concentration focused solely on her, the last thing he wants to discuss at a time like this is her husband’s fucked up sex life. If he’s honest, it really is a bit of a turn off.
“If it means he’ll divorce you, I think it’s worth a try.”
His lips close around her dark nipple and she whimpers. He tempers the bud with the tip of his tongue, nipping the flesh the way he knows she likes it. They’ve been doing this for years now. They have a son together, and his chest swells with pride every time they come into contact. The day that he can proclaim his love can’t come soon enough.
****
“You did what?” Peter asks, acting like the shock might kill him.
She rolls her eyes; odds are the sex will get to him sooner.
“Katrina’s still not well. I told her to take the next few days off for herself. You know that our son is susceptible. The agency replacement seemed to do her job properly.”
“You know I won’t accept anything other than thorough.”
The tone of his voice makes her eyes sting with tears and she has to bite the inside of her cheek. She nods, completely and utterly speechless for a moment.
He notices her mirth, but dismisses the concern. There’s no way she could know, and he’s happy to keep his affairs concealed from her.
“What time are you needed on set in the morning?”
“We’re supposed to start rolling at seven, but you know how Chris is in the morning. I’d say seven will become ten and that means that filming will be pushed through into the evening.”
“So you’ll be gone the whole day?” He asks hopefully?
“Should be.” She smiles politely, just as she always has.
“You want me to run through your lines with you?” His hand grazes her arm and his fingers tickle the skin just above her elbow.
“Thanks, but I’m good. I think I’m going to catch a few winks, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
He misses her touch, though he finds his satisfaction in other ways these days, she’s his wife, she’s duty bound. He’s pretty sure that she’s diddling Meloni, though he could just be paranoid, they’ve been together a long time now. They’re solid, like cherry and pie.
“I’ll be in the study if you need me.”
She pulls back the covers and scoots across the Egyptian cotton. The fabric is soft and silky, but she misses the scratchy sheets that he keeps in the condominium. She misses the warmth of his body beside her, the comfort of his arms. Though her husband will sleep by her side tonight, she’ll still wake to the chill of bones that she can’t seem to fathom.
****
They stand together, on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the bright yellow cab to hustle down the busy street. It’s early, she’d told her husband it would be an early start, and to her surprise, her co-star turned lover had been waiting for her, showered and dressed, with his winter coat and a soft cashmere beanie. He says that he likes to keep his hair short these days, but she knows that he really just doesn’t have a hell of a lot left, and she’s not really partial to a comb over.
He takes a seat in the back with her, if the cabbie recognizes them, he’ll have more chance of a pliable exit this way, he can cover her with his body, he can usher her out and he can make it seem as though he was just taking care of her. Strictly professional, just like the show that they always put on.
She’s on her cell and she’s calling her husband’s production theatre, if they want this bust to be successful, then she needs to go about it properly. Call up Broadway and enquire of her husband’s whereabouts. Pretend that she left her script at home when she knows that it’s sitting on Chris’s kitchenette counter. Tumble through the apartment door and hopefully, catch her husband in the act.
I’m sorry Ms Hargitay, but your husband has the matinee viewing this afternoon. We won’t need him to be here any time before twelve at the latest.
Her heart thunders in her chest and she wonders if they’re really going to be able to pull this one off.
She’s so tense beside him, and he slips his arm around the small of her back, supporting her, offering silent words of encouragement. People are going to talk, about both of them, about all of them, and he’s going to make sure that those people know just exactly what type of person she is. That she loves with her whole heart, that she’s done nothing wrong, not in his eyes, she’s not a home wrecker, she just fell in love, and he loves her all the more for that. Let the world judge, because he’s a fool in love himself.
The taxi stops a block away from the New York apartment and the two amble along the footpath, their steps hurried as they shy away from prying eyes.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” She checks her watch. “It’s just after seven. The new girl started a quarter of an hour ago, and we know that he’s not at work.”
He takes her hand in his, removing her leather glove, he rubs her fingers and then raises her hand and kisses her palm before replacing her glove. “We’ll be fine. Soon enough, this will all be over, just another memory.”
She nods. She’s ok as long as he is by her side.
They ride in the lift and he sways in time to the elevator music, trying to keep the exercise as pleasant as possible. She knows that he means well, and she can’t help the smirk that eventuates when his foot starts to tap out the beat.
When they arrive at her floor, he pouts, telling her he was just getting into the rhythm, and on the way out they’ll be going up before they come back down.
She thrusts her key into the lock and enters the room, squinting as the light from the morning son greets her with a wink of satisfaction. She focuses her attention on the noises coming from the kitchen, and takes off without her courage.
He follows at a safe pace behind her, cool and casual. Nothing to see here.
There’s a crash and the glass that shatters echoes down the hall and as she comes upon them she’s pleased to see that at least somebody has made use of the space. She can’t remember the last time she cooked here. She can’t really remember the last family meal. It breaks her heart, because at one point in time, she could have been happy here.
“What the fuck?”
Chris’s voice is confronting and the two consenting adults engaging in some heavy petting still against the polished veneer. Mariska hopes the marble is not too cold against the other woman’s precious behind. She doesn’t seem to be minding too much.
Peter reaches for his pants, pulling them up and tugging the zipper. But it’s too late, they’ve been sprung, and not only by his wife.
“I can explain,” He says. This isn’t what it looks like. She came onto me.”
“Save it Skippy,” Chris snarls at the man, his hands balled into fists as he stands here and watches his best friend break down. He turns to Mariska. “Let’s get your baby and get out of here.”
“I can’t help but feel a little hypocritical,” She mumbles.
His thick hands hold her waist against him as he rocks inside of her. A bead of sweat trickles from his brow as he concentrates, there’s no way she could ever call him a half-assed lover.
“I don’t think it’s the same,” He pants into her neck. “Not when you know he’s doing it too.”
He withdraws and sinks back into her warmth again and again and the momentum is enough to satisfy the cravings inside of her. His cock is so hot and hard and when he hits that spot, the one that makes her toes curl, she thinks that maybe she’s just died and gone to heaven.
“Do you think it will work?”
He shrugs, his concentration focused solely on her, the last thing he wants to discuss at a time like this is her husband’s fucked up sex life. If he’s honest, it really is a bit of a turn off.
“If it means he’ll divorce you, I think it’s worth a try.”
His lips close around her dark nipple and she whimpers. He tempers the bud with the tip of his tongue, nipping the flesh the way he knows she likes it. They’ve been doing this for years now. They have a son together, and his chest swells with pride every time they come into contact. The day that he can proclaim his love can’t come soon enough.
****
“You did what?” Peter asks, acting like the shock might kill him.
She rolls her eyes; odds are the sex will get to him sooner.
“Katrina’s still not well. I told her to take the next few days off for herself. You know that our son is susceptible. The agency replacement seemed to do her job properly.”
“You know I won’t accept anything other than thorough.”
The tone of his voice makes her eyes sting with tears and she has to bite the inside of her cheek. She nods, completely and utterly speechless for a moment.
He notices her mirth, but dismisses the concern. There’s no way she could know, and he’s happy to keep his affairs concealed from her.
“What time are you needed on set in the morning?”
“We’re supposed to start rolling at seven, but you know how Chris is in the morning. I’d say seven will become ten and that means that filming will be pushed through into the evening.”
“So you’ll be gone the whole day?” He asks hopefully?
“Should be.” She smiles politely, just as she always has.
“You want me to run through your lines with you?” His hand grazes her arm and his fingers tickle the skin just above her elbow.
“Thanks, but I’m good. I think I’m going to catch a few winks, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
He misses her touch, though he finds his satisfaction in other ways these days, she’s his wife, she’s duty bound. He’s pretty sure that she’s diddling Meloni, though he could just be paranoid, they’ve been together a long time now. They’re solid, like cherry and pie.
“I’ll be in the study if you need me.”
She pulls back the covers and scoots across the Egyptian cotton. The fabric is soft and silky, but she misses the scratchy sheets that he keeps in the condominium. She misses the warmth of his body beside her, the comfort of his arms. Though her husband will sleep by her side tonight, she’ll still wake to the chill of bones that she can’t seem to fathom.
****
They stand together, on the corner of the sidewalk, waiting for the bright yellow cab to hustle down the busy street. It’s early, she’d told her husband it would be an early start, and to her surprise, her co-star turned lover had been waiting for her, showered and dressed, with his winter coat and a soft cashmere beanie. He says that he likes to keep his hair short these days, but she knows that he really just doesn’t have a hell of a lot left, and she’s not really partial to a comb over.
He takes a seat in the back with her, if the cabbie recognizes them, he’ll have more chance of a pliable exit this way, he can cover her with his body, he can usher her out and he can make it seem as though he was just taking care of her. Strictly professional, just like the show that they always put on.
She’s on her cell and she’s calling her husband’s production theatre, if they want this bust to be successful, then she needs to go about it properly. Call up Broadway and enquire of her husband’s whereabouts. Pretend that she left her script at home when she knows that it’s sitting on Chris’s kitchenette counter. Tumble through the apartment door and hopefully, catch her husband in the act.
I’m sorry Ms Hargitay, but your husband has the matinee viewing this afternoon. We won’t need him to be here any time before twelve at the latest.
Her heart thunders in her chest and she wonders if they’re really going to be able to pull this one off.
She’s so tense beside him, and he slips his arm around the small of her back, supporting her, offering silent words of encouragement. People are going to talk, about both of them, about all of them, and he’s going to make sure that those people know just exactly what type of person she is. That she loves with her whole heart, that she’s done nothing wrong, not in his eyes, she’s not a home wrecker, she just fell in love, and he loves her all the more for that. Let the world judge, because he’s a fool in love himself.
The taxi stops a block away from the New York apartment and the two amble along the footpath, their steps hurried as they shy away from prying eyes.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” She checks her watch. “It’s just after seven. The new girl started a quarter of an hour ago, and we know that he’s not at work.”
He takes her hand in his, removing her leather glove, he rubs her fingers and then raises her hand and kisses her palm before replacing her glove. “We’ll be fine. Soon enough, this will all be over, just another memory.”
She nods. She’s ok as long as he is by her side.
They ride in the lift and he sways in time to the elevator music, trying to keep the exercise as pleasant as possible. She knows that he means well, and she can’t help the smirk that eventuates when his foot starts to tap out the beat.
When they arrive at her floor, he pouts, telling her he was just getting into the rhythm, and on the way out they’ll be going up before they come back down.
She thrusts her key into the lock and enters the room, squinting as the light from the morning son greets her with a wink of satisfaction. She focuses her attention on the noises coming from the kitchen, and takes off without her courage.
He follows at a safe pace behind her, cool and casual. Nothing to see here.
There’s a crash and the glass that shatters echoes down the hall and as she comes upon them she’s pleased to see that at least somebody has made use of the space. She can’t remember the last time she cooked here. She can’t really remember the last family meal. It breaks her heart, because at one point in time, she could have been happy here.
“What the fuck?”
Chris’s voice is confronting and the two consenting adults engaging in some heavy petting still against the polished veneer. Mariska hopes the marble is not too cold against the other woman’s precious behind. She doesn’t seem to be minding too much.
Peter reaches for his pants, pulling them up and tugging the zipper. But it’s too late, they’ve been sprung, and not only by his wife.
“I can explain,” He says. This isn’t what it looks like. She came onto me.”
“Save it Skippy,” Chris snarls at the man, his hands balled into fists as he stands here and watches his best friend break down. He turns to Mariska. “Let’s get your baby and get out of here.”