Brandon is standing by the dresser with my bottle of supplement in his hand. “Do you still take this?” he asks. A rattling sound fills the air as he shakes the bottle and a guilty smile crawls up my lips. Yesterday was the last time I took it and I had double the dose to make up for the days I missed.  He doesn’t smile back at me, only nods and I frown when he pockets the supplement. “Do you still want it?”

Bent over the sandals giving me a tough time, I straighten up and let out a sigh. “Yes.”

After he disappears into the bathroom, I hear the sound of a toilet flushing, when he returns, it is without the visible bulge in his pocket. “I’ll get you another bottle, okay?”

Crossing my arms on my chest, I squint. “But I wasn’t done with that one.” Brandon nods, I pat the space beside me and motion for him to join me. He saunters to me with a sexy smirk that has my knees bucking and I grip the bedstead. “What did you do to it?”

Brandon’s scent infiltrates my nostrils when he pushes my legs apart to kneel between them and I lose my train of thought at the sultry smile that takes over his lips. He makes funny faces at me, I giggle and he winks. His hand slips inside my blouse to massage my mounds, rolling a nipple between his fingers. I inhale sharply, willing him to continue.

My back connects with the bed, he hovers above me, bunching my blouse at my midriff. “I flushed it,” he whispers. I gasp at the contact of his tongue with my earlobe. “It’s bad.”

Bad? It doesn’t expire anytime soon but the queries die in my throat when he kisses me.

A shiver runs down my spine, the tingles in my breasts spread to my legs. I should have worn a skirt or a gown instead of this damn skinny jeans. He rubs the front of my jeans, places a wet kiss on my stomach and my legs wound around his waist. With a squeeze of my nipple, my back arches and I reach for his belt. We are already late but I don’t care.

His suit jacket draped over the chair in front of the vanity winks at me, all sane thoughts fly to the back of my mind when he unzips my jean and pulls it down my legs. He comes back up to kiss me, in my excitement, I miss his shirt buttons. Buttons fall on my belly, roll to the floor when I yank his shirt open, I tug on his singlet and help him out of it.

Now kneeling in front of me, Brandon runs a finger between my perky mounds down to the waistband of my panties which he pulls to cause a snap against my skin. I suck in my breath, my feet barely meeting the floor and I shiver when his breath fans my vagina.

Squeezing my twin, sensitive buds like he would have done, I whisper his name and my breath catches when he inserts a finger into me. His gaze never departs from mine, his finger moves delicately inside me. My toes curl, eyes squeeze shut and I bang the back of my head against the bed, clutching the bedsheet like it’s the bane of my existence.

Heat scorches my insides, I attempt to shrug out of my panties when Brandon stops his finger fucking and his hand covers mine. He takes the lingerie off slowly, I bite my lips to stop from begging him to fucking hurry up with it. But he decides that’s the best time to admire my legs, to litter kisses on my upper thighs and I end up rolling curses at him.

Laughter spills from his lips, embarrassment tickles me and I mutter a low, “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Brandon says when I refuse to meet his gaze, his mouth close over my fingertips. “Wifey.” My eyes land on the ceiling, I ignore the plea in his voice, embarrassed by my desperation. I am super horny, I need him to stop the teasing and fuck me. “Look at me.”

The kiss we share now is gentle, too innocent and I have to shove my tongue into his mouth while spanking his butt to remind him I can handle this. “Brandon, baby. Please.”

He takes the hint and starts kissing his way down to my belly. My vaginal walls contract, I whimper. I need him down there. Now. Pushing his head down to my warmth, I release a muffled scream when he dips his tongue into my essence. I swallow hard, the ceiling blurs and I am swimming in a sea of bliss as his tongue continues to lap on my wetness.

I thrash and squirm on the bed, sinking my nails into his shoulders and whatever I can in my frenzy. Fireworks explode in my belly, my legs vibrate to a point of numbness but Brandon doesn’t stop. He takes, teases and taunts me, flicks his tongue over my clit with an expertise that should only be found in movies and I gasp. I don’t want him to stop.

Then he stops. Before I can protest, he fills me with his length, our bodies deliciously merge and he starts rocking. Maybe it’s our position on the edge of the bed with my legs hanging midair but each stroke feels like a trip to cloud nine. Waves of pleasure rack my body, I spew inaudible jargons with each thrust, trying and failing to meet his rhythm.

With my breath coming in shallow rasps, mouth hanging open and thoughts in disarray, I try to run my fingers through his body, his scalp, repay this heavenly kindness but I am too disoriented to do that. To focus. So I stick to palming his face, littering sloppy kisses everywhere I can. When our eyes lock briefly, my heart stops at the small smile he flashes me. My body vibrates, I let out a suppressed sound as we hit our peak together.

Brandon pulls out of my warmth seconds, maybe minutes, after. Time doesn’t seem to matter anymore as I lay there, I whimper when he runs a wet towel over my vagina, still sensitive and sore from our exercise. He comments on my ass, tilts his head and laughs. I laugh along without hearing a word he said, loving the sound of his laughter, loving him.

“Carry me,” I say when he is dressed. I need a change of clothes, preferably a gown but the soft mattress is too much of a temptation for me to resist. Plus, that fleeting look in his eyes says he adores my naked body which is curled like a model on the front page of a magazine without a finger in her mouth or the red, bold lipstick. “Baby, carry me.”

Brandon shakes his head with a faint smile, tucking his shirt into his suit trouser. I know he will grant my request but I play along. Stretching my tired hands like a newborn who demands his mother’s attention, I purr and rub my legs together. “Carry your wife.”

Still laughing, he squats to piggyback me, I smack his head and hop on his back, naked and proud. I scatter kisses all over his neck and say, “You are late to work, real late.”

“I’m the boss,” he replies.

The cockiness is back, I am almost ashamed to admit I missed it. I don’t care about his shirt when I ask him to carry me to the bathroom. It doesn’t take much to convince him, soon enough, we are under the shower together, laughing and sponging each other.

A bath that should have lasted a few minutes turns into something more and I scream out in surprise when my eyes hit the time on my phone. It’s past twelve. Class is by one.

“What’s up?” he asks after my yelp, sifting through the closet. I murmur a reply, he pulls out a trouser, raising it for my judgment. “Your car is back.” I nod, giving him the details I excluded earlier. When he pulls on a blue jacket over his shirt, I slide into a halter neck gown of the same colour. “Clarissa was upset with you.” I nod. “Why?” I point to my hair.

We look funny getting dressed together but we are late. He turns in my direction, his eyes affixed on the hair and I brush a strand to the side. “I kind of like it,” he murmurs.

Jumping on him, his hands come under my butt to steady me. I laugh. God. He gets it. “Me too baby.” I lick his lips, he chuckles and I proceed to do the same to his nose. His face scrunches, he fake gags and I laugh. “I like it. I don’t understand why she is upset.” His intense stare cuts me off, I lick my lips and my mind goes blank. “Put me down.”

“Not yet,” he whispers and my head bobs, I don’t mind being carried all day. Lowering me to the bed, he slides the sandal onto my feet and buckles it with ease. “What are your plans? After school, that is, do you want to go out?”

Nodding, I ask, “With you? Yes, I want to go out with my baby.” It has been a while since our last date, I miss that part of us. I flick the imaginary dust on his shoulders, he brings my hand to his mouth, kisses my knuckles without breaking eye contact. “Where?”

“Anywhere you want.”

* * *

I am forgetting something.

But, what?

Trying to remember only results in a mild headache, I adjust my bag to the other hand, feet meeting the ground with purpose. The candies inside the bag cry out for me, my stomach begs me to take a bite but I push one foot in front of the other. I am famished but the image of me eating while walking is enough to banish all thoughts of hunger.

Alone on my path, a passing thought hits me, if I scream for help right now, will anyone hear me? I stop and take a look around me. Flowers line each side of the lane, thick shrubs spill onto my path. The library where I am headed is about a stone throw away from me and the nearest student populated building is about a five minutes walk.

Maybe I shouldn’t have taken this shortcut but I was so eager to leave the class which took an extra hour. I wipe the sweat coating my forehead, pushing my legs forward.

The fear is all in my head, I have taken this route more times than I can count and nothing has happened. Nothing will happen this time. A peek at my wristwatch shows I have twenty minutes until Brandon’s arrival and a few more minutes to read his letters.

Letters. It is hard to imagine him bent over a table writing a letter addressed to his wife. I don’t know this man as much as I think I do and the thought frightens and pleases me to no end. We have the rest of our lives to learn about ourselves. Placing a hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter which reverberates, the image of Brandon clutching the letters in his grasp evokes more laughter out of me. Shy Brandon is my favourite.

“I am shy,” he had said, eyes downcast like he was about to reveal his dirtiest secrets.

Hooking a finger under his jaw, I had replied, “I like it when you are shy.” Then snatched the envelopes from his grasp. He made me promise to read it after I got down from the car. He was smart enough to mention and hand over the letters when we were in school.

My hand reaches into the bag, my fingertips brush the letter as if to reassure me and an odd feeling of protection settles over me. There is a bounce in my step when the white, monstrous library comes into view, I pat my hair, run a mental check of my attire and nod in approval. My cheeks heat up at the lewd thought that encroaches my mind, I try and fail to distort the image of me and Brandon on the table with him ramming into me.

Moisture pools between my legs, I gulp and try to hasten my steps. I am going to the library to read not live out silly, spontaneous fantasies. But the tiny, mocking voice in my head disagrees with me, sends more racy images that replay mercilessly in my head.

I am naked, so is Brandon, my breasts flush with the table, I stare straight ahead, barely registering the things around me. He spanks my ass in preparation, runs a finger which he withdraws immediately along my clit. I arch my back when his hand curls into my hair, the pain spreading through my scalp dissolves when his tongue tickles my asshole.

Entering me from behind in the doggy style, he slips his thick length into me slowly as if giving me a chance to accommodate him. He starts rotating his hips, stroking faster and pushing deeper into me. My juices slick my thighs, nails dig into the table and I vibrate.

The gentleness disappears with each thrust, my screams are muffled, all thanks to his tie stuffed in my mouth and the harsh tug on my hair causes me to whimper. Knowing there are people in the same room as us, the possibility of getting caught sends a thrill racing through me. Drives both of us over the edge and he pumps into me. Hard and fast.

By the time I arrive at the fence surrounding the library, my panties are thoroughly soaked and my upper thighs are almost as slick as they were in the taunting images that felt too real. Taking a few minutes to calm myself, I force the images down, begging them to stay that way. Tingles cascade down my skin, my heart leaps into a sprint and my legs shake.

Shake with excitement and a sudden desire to live that fantasy. To be fucked right now.

“Elna.”

A scream tears through my lips, shock takes control of my limbs which tremble violently and my eyes bulge. My chest deflates, the phone I retrieved to text Brandon slips out of my grasp and Josh catches it before it hits the floor. A sigh escapes me, dread retracts its claws sinking deep into my heart, I swallow hard and start breathing normally.

“Sorry.” Josh scratches the back of his head, his bag dangles from the other hand, I offer him a small smile, trying again to find the similarities. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” I say. I should have paid more attention to my surrounding. A few seconds of awkward silence passes, my eyes run over him. Tousled hair, black jeans and a leather jacket. Pushing away from the fence, I say, “I should get going, I’m off to the library.”

I smile. If he had been two minutes late, he would have missed me. “Library?” he says.

My mouth dries up, I nod and take a sip from the bottle of water in my bag. I don’t need his lecture on the dangers of associating with his brother. With that thought echoing in my mind, I resume walking. Josh falls in line with me like we planned this, matching my pace. His shoulder brushes mine, I catch a whiff of his cologne and my stomach riots.

Josh stops, forcing me to do the same and I groan when he comes to stand in front of me. “We should hang out,” he says. “I miss you.” I want to say something but I can’t, his scent is suffocating me. “You forgot this.” My phone dangles in his hand, I collect it with a forced smile. He inches closer to get a better look at my face, I heave. “El, are you okay?”

The late breakfast Brandon and I had before he dropped me off rises to my throat, I can almost taste it. I need to puke. I hold out a hand in front of me to push him away but he lowers my arm to press the back of his palm against my neck and I lost control. I let go.

It happens so fast, within a heartbeat, just like in the movies where someone throws up on the highschool bully at the end of her birthday party. My vomit outlines his shirt, bits of food particles cling to the thick material and water, maybe even spit, drips to the tarred floor. I wince. He raises his head to me, I take a step back to avoid his stony glare.

“I’m sorry.” His silence is more frightening than the storm brewing in his eyes, I shiver. “I didn’t mean it, Josh.” He scoffs, gives me one last look and walks away. “Josh. Josh.”

Dabbing the front of my gown, I rinse my mouth and snack on the chocolate in my bag to rid me of the vile taste in my mouth. Tears threaten to make an appearance, I send them back. No point going into the library. No way will I risk throwing up on another person so I saunter off in the direction Josh went, occupying the empty bench I come across.

Someone sits beside me, I don’t look up from my phone. I am on school’s property, other students can join me. My annoyance hits a new height when Brandon’s reply comes late, the letters in my bag feel heavy but I want to read them in the comfort of a private place.

“Mrs Stark.” The voice is unfamiliar, I tilt my head and my heart slows. It is the guy, the lanky dude with curly hair and dark skin. The only one who pleaded for an audience.

Portraying a calm I don’t feel, I ask, “Are you stalking me?” He was the only one who had my number and email address. The flesh of his neck has filled out like he had enough real food to eat between now and then. “What do you want? I can’t help you with anything.”

Rubbing his hands on his skinny jeans with too much cut to be considered fashionable, I comfort myself with the fact he is also nervous. “I am not stalking you,” he replies.

“Good, please leave. My husband will be here soon.” On cue, my phone’s screen lights up with Brandon’s name, I pick immediately, rushing my words out. “Baby, I need you.”

Concern laces his tone, Brandon asks, “Are you okay?” My eyes wander to the stranger beside me, he holds his breath and I reply in the affirmative. Repeating my location so Curly hair knows not to try anything funny with me, I tell Brandon how much I miss him.

“I miss you more, wife, I’ll be there soon.”

“Love you,” I say and giggle at his response.

Curly hair says nothing, we sit in surprisingly comfortable silence until he says, “Mrs Stark, I need your help.” I start shaking my head but words tumble freely from his lips.

The voice in my head screams out the reply which I breathe out, “No. I can’t help you.”

He takes too long to stand, almost as if he is giving me a chance to change my mind after hearing his sob story. But I don’t buy any of it, he is a deadbeat entertainment journalist looking for the next hot topic to revive his career. I stiffen when he retrieves a crumpled card from his back pocket to drop on the space he occupied, eyeing the name at the top.

The plea in his eyes tugs at my heart, a hint of sincerity is present and I look away to avoid giving in to his demands. “Ask your husband,” he says. “Please. I beg you.”