The first thing Blue did when she woke up was roll over. And after that, she shot from the bed of knotted sheets and shook Vincent awake. It was a Monday morning, and two hours since they’d have left for breakfast — yet she lay beside him unshowered. Still wearing her pyjamas. It was the first time she’d slept a full night in days she couldn’t count. “Have you forgotten about your job?” Watching her husband grumble and bury his face in the nested pillows, she finally felt how he had waking her each morning. He turned after moments too long. Met the woman’s gaze with bleary eyes. Freshly shaven. He had already been up.
“I’m working from home today, now come back to bed, won’t you?”
“Why?”
She watched as he pushed his fingers into his eyes with some sense of annoyance. Fought the urge to slap him. “Am I not allowed to spend the day with my wife, Mrs Carmichael?”
“Don’t call me that.”
She watched with a rather pointed stare as h
“I’ve been thinking; what if Richard had the right idea buying you a car?” Blue glanced over her shoulder from the couch as the man spoke. It had quickly become her spot. He’d cook her dinner despite the fact he had worked all day. Massage her feet as they sat on the couch and waited for the oven. Refill the tea she’d finally finished after letting it steep for an hour or two and turn completely cold. Gently smile as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt. Wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her into his chest. Make her wish so dearly he’d call the housekeeper to finish the meal so she could lure him into their bedroom… He was pushing around two steaks in the frying pan, just as he had been for five minutes. Staring at the back of the woman’s head, he couldn’t help but consider what she had thought as she stared at the television rather aimlessly. He’d watched another man leave countless gifts at his wife’s doorstep that week. A car. A diamond necklace. Some simpl
Blue felt rather whorish dressing as she had now that she was expecting. She’d worried the stomach that seemed to swell and disappear at mere minute intervals would show in a tight dress. That some passing woman would smell the pregnancy on her and critique her liberal choice of dress. The cleavage she’d eagerly paraded. The amount of thigh she’d presented the world. So, she’d worn a sweater. A rather old pair of jeans she needed a hair elastic to fasten shut. An ensemble far too warm for the New York summer. Yet comforting, nonetheless. Private in a way she so recently hadn’t been afforded.She’d tried to be early. A grave mistake. She’d convinced herself she’d awkwardly walk in, and the applicant representative would already be sitting there. He had tried to be early, too. He’d watch her as she made her approach. Fiddled with her hands because she didn’t know what to do with them. Stumbled on her own feet. Bounced
The man who once sickened her so had long since become the itch she’d learned to ignore. Sitting stiffly, Richard groping at her thigh as though he was feeling up a supermarket apple for any bruises, Blue found she had bigger concerns. She wasn’t cheating—despite the fact she was on a date with another man. Yet she felt there was a reason she hadn’t told him. Worried it would bother him. Vincent wouldn’t approve of it… with good reason. Of course, he had no idea the man had forced himself on his wife alone in some public restroom. Or seemed to mastermind the whole engagement. Looked so plain and yet had the glint of a registered offender in his stare. She had decided not to tell him. She’d dodge any photo opportunities. Politely excuse herself before anyone worth any notice spotted her. Hurry home as though her husband would be waiting. She’d curl around the pillow as she had the night before, pretend she was holding some being close despite the fact
Somehow, Vincent had managed to escape the benefit earlier than Blue. As she slammed the front door shut behind herself and kicked her shoes off with an air of frustration no one could ever triumph, she came face to face with a man, yet again, lurking in the shadows. Sitting on the couch, in the dark, head hung, interlocked hands in between his knees and gaze sharp as he finally lifted his eyes to her own, even she couldn’t be any more dramatic if she tried. Against all instinct, Blue couldn’t help but surrender to the pull that ordered her into silence. Couldn’t fit in a snide remark to cushion her pride. Froze in place as their eyes met. “Why were you there?” “Why were you there?” “I can’t tell you that,” “And I can’t tell you, either.” “Then I guess we have an understanding,” Suddenly, she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. &
Staring down at the woman who laid across the table eagerly like a prize to be claimed, he bent over her. Took her wrists in his hands. Drove himself inside of her. Sighed as she released a breath that twisted itself into a deviant groan. With a gaze that would have made a nun strip and lay out spread-eagle, Vincent drew his mouth nearer to Blue’s, hips rearing into her own, chest pressing hers with each breath she took to still her heart. Mustering what weak resolve she could, she turned her mouth from his, hair loosening from its ponytail and beginning to spill out beneath her. She watched as he released a wrist. Took her chin in his hand. Bent his mouth towards hers. Met the man’s darkened gaze. Lifted her hand to rest square against his chest. Suddenly, he softened and straightened up so slightly, something Blue never could have accounted for. When she spoke, their hips stilled together, chests parted and faces
Blue waited, bated breath and a racing heart... let it be due to her soul-ripping orgasm, the cold, or the sheer suspense of watching Vincent quietly turn from the door and rub at his face solemnly. When she spoke, she found she had the courage to only in whispers as she pulled the skimpy throw blanket tighter around herself, wishing for even a fraction more of the modesty she had been granted. "Who is it?" She feared she knew the answer. She watched as he all but punched the light switch by the front door. For someone trying so hard to keep quiet, he didn’t seem to be all too concerned with it. If theirvisitorhadn't heard them reproducing on the dining room table, there was no doubt they heard Vincent's outburst. Whether he turned the lights off to hide his naked wife or not. He muttered. Scowled. "Go to bed, I'll meet you there," S
Nothing to Blue could ever or would ever beat the feeling of waking up, sun warm through large, ocean-facing windows, sheets twisted up and duvet fallen to the floor, stark naked, with the male embodiment of sex sound asleep beside her, one arm around her and the other thrown over his eyes. With a small, subdued smile, Blue rolled over, lifting a delicate hand to rest against his steadily heaving chest. She watched as he stirred, arm falling from his eyes and head rolling to face her — to her dismay, still very much asleep.She had dreamt
Blue cursed the fact she didn't have the mind to lather on sunscreen the second she had stepped into the street. Summer was underway, and though not as hot as it could be, just as unforgiving. And although she wasn't showing per se, the steadying gain of weight meant that she was just too big to fit into her old clothes and just too small to size up without looking like a Mormon. Vincent's clothes were always a safe bet—big enough to look deliberately oversized—but she found that, while denim shorts and one of his many white button-ups looked trendy enough to blend into the LA crowd, its ability to advertise her sweat was uncanny.It was a task in itself to hold at bay the vomiting which forced her to bring a pillow to rest on into the bathroom for the better part of an hour—but by ten o'clock, feeling so vile and exhausted, she made the decision so grave in necessity she felt it appropriate to break a promise. And so, the ten-minute walk to the pharmacy began. She was painfully aware