C'est La Vie (IV)
In the corner she tucked her shirt in. She knew what had transpired and what was going to give her away. Certainly, the flushed cheeks and the distinct smell of sweat. What on earth was she thinking. Nothing, apparently. She did it because it felt right.
***
There were too many things going in his tiny little head. It was supposed to be the balancing act. A veto. And this time she had it. He knew it wasn't the thing he wanted but then she would incriminate him in front of everyone. He pictured his daughter, whose face was still raw with innocence and his wife, who would leave him the second she got to know. A momentary lapse of judgment led to serious consequences. He followed her directions on his screen, a cheap version of a phone so that he doesn't get caught, ever. Had he done this before? Yes, with the same woman, who left her man for him. Room number 708, the date he met trouble. He entered the room, she was there. Same clothes every-time. A stripped shirt and black mini-skirt. Underneath, his favourite pair of lace. Lilac, he thought. She looked exhausted, maybe that's why she needed it. He no more cared for morals and regard. He pushed her against the wall, violently kissing her with full force. She wasn't going to go down so easily. He didn't notice the heels until they touched his buttocks, he ached in pain as she put more pressure into it. Her hands were moving down, she reached for the belt and kept it aside. Thank god, he thought. Maybe she wasn't too mad. He stripped her naked while she did the same to him. He took her in his arms and threw her on the bed. She shot a grave look turning into madness he had never seen. She asked him to fuck her like nobody else would. He did exactly what she asked. With several bruises on his back while minor marks on hers, they resumed with their thoughts. Eye to eye, there was happiness that had been forgotten. She rolled into him, sobbing profusely. They had lost their daughter and with it a part of themselves.
***
There were too many things going in his tiny little head. It was supposed to be the balancing act. A veto. And this time she had it. He knew it wasn't the thing he wanted but then she would incriminate him in front of everyone. He pictured his daughter, whose face was still raw with innocence and his wife, who would leave him the second she got to know. A momentary lapse of judgment led to serious consequences. He followed her directions on his screen, a cheap version of a phone so that he doesn't get caught, ever. Had he done this before? Yes, with the same woman, who left her man for him. Room number 708, the date he met trouble. He entered the room, she was there. Same clothes every-time. A stripped shirt and black mini-skirt. Underneath, his favourite pair of lace. Lilac, he thought. She looked exhausted, maybe that's why she needed it. He no more cared for morals and regard. He pushed her against the wall, violently kissing her with full force. She wasn't going to go down so easily. He didn't notice the heels until they touched his buttocks, he ached in pain as she put more pressure into it. Her hands were moving down, she reached for the belt and kept it aside. Thank god, he thought. Maybe she wasn't too mad. He stripped her naked while she did the same to him. He took her in his arms and threw her on the bed. She shot a grave look turning into madness he had never seen. She asked him to fuck her like nobody else would. He did exactly what she asked. With several bruises on his back while minor marks on hers, they resumed with their thoughts. Eye to eye, there was happiness that had been forgotten. She rolled into him, sobbing profusely. They had lost their daughter and with it a part of themselves.
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