Whatever Terms You Want – By Marlena John Magic Fingers

PROLOGUE

 

MARLENA

 

Sitting at my vanity, clad only in a robe, my hair still wet from the shower, I stare at the face looking back at me in the mirror. From all accounts,everything about me appears to look the same. No one would ever know how different I am – how much I have changed since I first married my husband Roman Brady.

 

Well, actually that isn’t quite the truth: there is one person that knows – one man that will always know me – inside and out. John. No matter what is going on inside this complicated head of mine, or what is going on inside my heart, he can take one look at me and read my like a toddler’s picture book. It is as if every secret I ever try to keep is plastered on my forehead in big bold letters and he instantly knows what I am thinking, what I am feeling, what I need, and what I want. And regardless of how hard I try to fight it, no matter how hard Itry to hide my true feelings from him – he always knows.

 

Nevertheless, I still have tried to fight it – to fight this connection we have, this unexplainable, irrational, soul-rendering connection. I tried fighting it even after we made love on his plane on the very night of my anniversary to Roman. And I was doing well up until the Titan party – then I fell apart – literally – on the conference room table. I think back to both of those nights and wonder how two people could ever have so much passion between them…I thought I had passion with Roman, and with Don.

 

And then there was John.

 

I realized all I had ever known before was romance. There is a huge difference. I know that now. Passionate love affairs can also be romantic – my marriage to John was a perfect example of that…although there wasn’t a whole lot of romance involved in the recent liaisons I had with John – no that would be all passion, emotion, desire, lust but definitely not romance. But our marriage definitely contained passion and romance. But romantic love affairs, like when Roman and I first met – well they don’t always have passion. I know that now.

 

I hear the door slam downstairs and wait to hear the sound of his car pulling out of the driveway. Roman is angry with me. I don’t blame him. The truth is, he doesn’t even know what anger is – he thinks he has reason to be angry – if he knew what I had done last night the anger he is feeling would seem more like a bad hair-day…

 

 

He came home last night from a 48 hour stake-out. I was already in bed. I pretended to be asleep. He crawled into the bed, nudging me from behind, rubbing my arm. He tried for about an hour to wake me up. I finally answered him from under the pillow I had covering my head. “Is something wrong Roman?”

 

He whispers in my ear. “No I just thought you might want to welcome your

husband home.”

 

“It’s late honey. And I have an early day tomorrow.”

 

Roman sigh is filled with disappointment. “But I missed you. I was hoping you missed me too.”

 

“Of course I missed you Roman. I was sound asleep – that is all.”

 

“Well you aren’t now. How about you take that pillow off your head and give me a proper homecoming.”

 

“I can’t Roman.”

 

“Doc is something wrong?”

 

“Yes Roman, as a matter of fact there is. I started this morning. I have had a very long day and I have very bad cramps. I am sorry honey. “

 

Roman shrugs and rolls over giving me his backside. I close my eyes thankful he has given up without any more of a fight…….

 

I should feel guiltier about the way I treated him when he came home last night, especially considering what I was doing less than an hour before he returned home.

 

Honestly I was just so grateful to have beaten him home, taken a shower and gotten in the bed before he arrived. And I was physically exhausted. I shouldn’t have lied to him about my period but I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t let him see me naked – hell I can’t even let him see me fully clothed unless I am wearing a turtleneck.

 

Once I am positive that he is gone, I untie my robe and stare at the wanton woman looking back at me in the mirror. There are two hickeys on the right side of my neck, one on the left, and a trail of them leading down from my collarbone to my stomach. I have several teeth marks scattered along my neck and chest, and one on my belly.

 

There is one bruise on my right arm and one right above my left hip – both bruises have the distinct impression of a handprint – so clear and visible it looks as if the impressions could have been made with ink. Then there is the large know the size of an egg on the back of my head – that would be from when I slammed my head back against the wall.

 

Funny – if someone, anyone saw my unclad body; they would think I was a battered woman. ..Anyone but John that is. He would know all too well I was no battered woman… just a woman who was very ‘well-loved’ by her man.

 

Sadly enough, I have to try to figure out what clothes to wear to hide these love-marks because the man whom I was ‘well-loved’ by last night wasn’t my husband. You would think I would be more upset, more ashamed – I think I pretty much used up all of the guilt and shame I had inside me when I was crying over the first two times I was unfaithful to my husband.

 

The circumstances were different then: I was emotional, dare I say hysterical, and afterwards I was overcome with grief and shame. I titled myself a cheater, and blamed John for most of the events leading up to the affair. Secretly I knew I was just manipulating the situation, and manipulating him to get what I needed, what I so desperately craved – his touch.

 

Last night was different. Last night I wasn’t the one being pursued but the pursuer…last night I became the seducer. And so it is a little difficult to feel those same feelings of guilt and shame when I consciously betrayed my husband, I willfully and rationally made a choice to go to my lover and demand that he satisfy me the way that only he can.

 

And when I left him last night, I never yelled. I think I even thanked him. And on the drive home I never shed a tear. I was too satisfied to shed any tears. I knew exactly what I wanted and went after it. So now, as I sit here staring at the woman in the mirror, I am amazed at how much I have changed from the first time I betrayed my husband…and the second time. I am amazed that no one around me will ever see these changes that are taking me over.

 

Well…at least no one but John that is.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

‘The Morning After’

 

MARLENA

 

I am daydreaming again. It seems as if that is all I do anymore. If I had a dollar for every minute I have spent thinking about him in the last few months, I would never have to work another day in my life. It is noon. All of my appointments were scheduled for the morning, leaving the afternoon to do paperwork.

 

So without any patients to counsel, I will be able to spend the rest of the work day going over files and typing out all of my notes on my morning sessions. I usually hate this part of the job.

 

But this morning I don’t mind it so much. Because I am different now. I am different today. I enjoy the isolation because it gives me time to daydream…to remember, to revel in the vivid flashbacks of last night. I close my eyes and am instantly bombarded with vivid images from last night, flashes of pictures of two lovers engaged in the throes of passions. ..my legs wrapped around his waist, the back of his bent neck when his head buries itself in my chest, the gleam of lust in his eyes, his strong arms holding me up by the thighs, his biceps glistening with sweat.

 

That is how I remember last night; not as one long scene but as pictures, photographs with no chronological order that are burned into my brain, pictures that are coaxing me, enticing me, begging me to relive over and over again in my mind. And then there are the sounds…the sounds of his heavy breathing, the sound of my voice catching in my throat, my gasps, my deep moans and his throaty growls, the sound of foghorns and water splashing against wood, the sound of my head as it bangs against the wooden wall behind me, and the sound of our voices mixing together, screaming each other’s names simultaneously as we finally reach that glorious release.

 

My phone rings, jerking me out of my daydreams. It is my secretary, letting me know she is leaving for lunch. I let her know she can have the afternoon off if she would like since it is Friday and I don’t have any more patients for the day. She is ecstatic and thanks me profusely, eager to get a head-start on her weekend. She is going to spend a couple of days with her new love interest – she swears he is ‘the one’. I wonder if she spends her days daydreaming – I wonder if she too is barraged by pictures and sounds of her and her lover in the throes of passion. ..if she too sits at her desk whiling away the hours reminiscing about ‘the night before’.

 

Somehow I doubt it – I have seen the way she dresses – she never wears turtlenecks.

 

JOHN

 

When I was showering this morning, my muscles in my legs were still quivering from last night. When I was shaving I realized I would have to find some band-aids to cover the reddish blue circles covering the hollow in the middle of my neck, my jaw-line right below my right ear, and her teeth-marks on the palm of my right hand and my left cheek.

 

 

Luckily everything else could be covered with clothing and that is a good thing. ..because there aren’t enough band-aids in a case to cover the fingernail scratches covering my entire back. I realize I am going to have come up with some ridiculous explanation as to why I am covered with bandages. It won’t be a problem – whatever story I come up, I already know everyone will believe it – no one has any reason not to believe it, and everyone will be none the wiser…well at least everyone but her .

 

She was different. Last night, she was different. She was so calm, so cool and collected when she approached me. And afterwards, when she left me, she was calm, cool and collected. And during – well during… she was wild – passionate, unabashed. I didn’t have to coax her, or persuade her, or push any of her buttons to release the animal in her.

 

No she did that all on her own. She was the one pushing my buttons. She was the aggressor, and I was putty in her hands. And afterwards, when she walked away, there wasn’t a hint of anger; none of the shame nor any trace of the guilt she had been carrying along with her for weeks. Jesus, she even smiled and waved at me as she walked away, her head held high. Hell she even said thank you!

 

And the most obvious difference – she never shed a tear. On the plane, and again in the conference room at Titan – she was crying hysterically. Before last night, her tears alone were my punishment for our actions. But last night – well last night she all but rewarded me for our actions. Last night when I got home I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed trying to figure out what had just happened. I was confused, baffled by her sudden change in demeanor. I couldn’t figure it out.

 

It was like she was a different woman, a younger version of the woman she had

become. It was like she was the woman I married years ago. She knew exactly what she wanted from me and exactly how to get it. But I am no fool – she had changed a lot since our married years. This wasn’t like the past; we weren’t married, I’m not her husband anymore; and we are having an affair for Christ sake. I know that doesn’t weigh easily on Marlena; betraying her marriage vows would be something that would destroy her. It had been destroying her for weeks…until last night. So what happened – what changed? I intended to find out.

 

***************

 

As I exit the elevator at the hospital I head straight to her office. The waiting room to her office is empty, her secretary is nowhere in sight. I knock on her door but she doesn’t answer. I look at my watch and realize it is well after lunchtime. I figure she is either in the lounge having some coffee.

 

I know she won’t have any patients this afternoon, she always saves her Friday afternoons for paperwork. And I also know she hasn’t left early because she would have turned the lights off in the waiting room and locked the door. She is definitely in the hospital. It is as if I can smell her presence. I head to the lounge and before I even open the door, I know she is in there. I can hear her voice. She is engaged in a casual conversation – I know this because I can hear her laughing about something.

 

When I open the door her back is to me. She is sitting in a chair talking to Kimberly, Carly and a couple of nurses about something. I can tell from her posture she is relaxed, not tense and uptight the way she has been for months. I can’t help but wonder if the hair on the back of her neck stands up when I enter the room the way mine always does whenever she comes within ten feet of me. Kim sees me and stands up.

 

“Hey John…” Kimberly notices the bandages I am wearing and starts walking towards be. “Oh my God what in the world happened to you?” Marlena turns to look at me as well and the other nurses and Carly do too. I expect Marlena to look down in shame but she surprises me once again by smiling pleasantly at me before walking to the other side of the room to get a water bottle out of the fridge.

 

I answer Kimberly hoping to put her mind out rest so that I can quickly change the subject. “Oh nothing really Kim, just some freak accident.”

 

Kim, as nosey as ever, persists. “Accident?? You look like you have been in some kind of bar brawl with all those bandages.” I smile back at her.

 

”Oh no bar fight, Kim, nothing as exciting as that. Just a few cuts…from a wine bottle…that umm, …exploded.”

 

As the word ‘exploded’ comes out of my mouth, Marlena spits all of the water in her mouth onto the floor, causing everyone to turn to look at her. She is laughing hysterically at me and her laughter must be contagious because the nurses join in. Kimberly is more concerned however.

 

”John that could have been so dangerous. How did that happen?””

 

“Well I grabbed a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other and while I was pulling the cork out it just exploded and the glass shattered and nicked me in a few places. It’s nothing really.”

 

“Well I would contact the manufacturer of the wine company about that – it just doesn’t seem normal”

 

Marlena pipes in as she gets up to leave. “Yes John, I am surprised, you used to be pretty handy with your ‘corkscrews”.

 

Thank God no one gets Marlena’s inside joke except for me. She was smiling a devilish grin and her eyes were sparkling. She is goading me, teasing me, and coming damn near close to flirting with me in front of her friends and coworkers.

 

What in the hell was the matter with her?? I quickly change the subject and am chatting about other things as she walks past me before leaving the lounge. As she passes me, she turns over her shoulder and with a huge grin she says “See ya later John. Oh and try to steer clear of any more exploding wine bottles – I hear they can be pretty dangerous.”

 

And with that comment she is gone and I have to engage in small talk and come up with an excuse as to why I am here when the only real reason I came here is to talk to her. I pretend that I came in for some coffee, so I fill my cup, then tell the ladies goodbye. On the way out I drop the coffee cup in the trash can and head straight to her office.

 

I knock softly on her door. Over the years I have developed a pattern to my knock.

 

She knows it’s me. “Come in.”

 

I walk in and close the door behind me. She is sitting behind her desk, doing

paperwork. She always hated paperwork. But oddly enough, it doesn’t seem to be

bothering her today. She smiles warmly and I can’t help but notice she is glowing. I also take note of the high cut turtle neck, and I have no doubt it is serving the same purpose as my band-aids.

 

“Hey Doc you got a sec?”

 

“Of course John I always have time for you.”

 

“Are you ok?”

 

“I am great. Why??

 

“You just seem so different today. I was wondering if you were feeling ok?”

 

“I feel great actually. Well other than a few splinters in my backside and a couple of bruises…but other than that I feel great. Thank you for asking.”

 

“Marlena have you been drinking?”

 

She giggles uncontrollably.“No John. Why? Do I act drunk?”

 

“No Doc…you don’t. I am just grasping at straws here. Maybe you can fool everyone else but you can’t fool me. It is like you have done a 360 in the last 24 hours and I am just trying to figure out where your head is at.”

 

“I’m not trying to fool you John. Nothing is wrong with me.”

 

“OK then how about I rephrase my question. What is so ‘right’ with you?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

I move to the couch and sit down. “Well for months something has been wrong. Now everything seems right. You are smiling, you’re laughing, and you’re even flirting with me. You aren’t sad anymore, there’s no tears, you don’t act like you hate to be within two feet of me, and you aren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

 

“Well by all accounts I would think that is a good thing John, wouldn’t you”

 

“Marlena…please…it’s me. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on, what’s changed.

Where is all that guilt, and shame you have been feeling. For Christ sake, we made love last night again…for the third time we betrayed Roman. And you are prancing around today all giddy and happy like you just got back from a honeymoon or something.”

 

“Would you rather me be crying John. Would you rather me feel guilty and ashamed, carrying around so much emotional baggage that I can barely breathe. Did you like it better when I cried hysterically after we made love and treated you like some kind of monster that I was afraid to be in the same room with?”

 

“Of course not Doc. I just need to know what’s going on. And I wanted to talk about last night.”

 

“What’s to talk about John?” I can tell by her voice she is getting irritated with me. But I continue to push. I stand up and take a step towards her desk.

 

“What do you mean ‘what is there to talk about’ Marlena? Are you having some kind of mental break down. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was last night, anybody could have caught us. And you just act so nonchalant about it, like it was just a fun roll in the hay or something!” I see her eyes flash and I know I have gotten her attention. She is angry. She throws her pen down and gets up from her desk walking straight to me.

 

“OK You listen here John Black. I told you this once last night and I will tell you once more today, and then I do not want to talk about it again. YOU started this. That night, in your car, you were the one who started this. You told me you wanted me and you would always want me. Remember that? You told me if I ever wanted you, to please come to you…that you would always be there waiting, that I could come to you on ‘WHATEVER TERMS I ASK’! Do you remember that John? Do you remember that noble little offer of yours? Well you got what you asked for you. Last night, I wanted you and so I came to you – on MY terms. You got that? MY TERMS. And now you prance in here trying to make me feel guilty for not crying or being ashamed. Don’t you get it John? I am tired of feeling guilty. I am tired of crying. I am tired of walking around with my head hung down like some insecure shameful excuse for a woman. I WANT TO FEEL GOOD. I want to feel HAPPY. And last night, well last night I wanted to feel satisfied – so I came to you, because for some unknown reason you are the only man on this earth that can totally and completely satisfy me. And you did that, and I thanked you for that. And today, I want to feel HAPPY. So why is it that you seem so intent on robbing me of that  happiness?”

 

“Marlena, all I have ever wanted is for you to be happy. I would never want to rob you of that.”

 

“Then don’t.”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Good. I’m glad we got that settled. Now if that is all, I need to leave. I have to get to the drycleaners before they close.” I watch in silence as she turns her computer off, gathers her things, and starts to leave.

 

“OK Doc well I guess I will talk to you later.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Alright then, can I walk you to your car?”

 

“No I am fine. I am kind of in a hurry.”

 

“To get home to Roman?”

 

“No John not to get home to Roman”

 

“Why such a rush?”

 

“I told you John I need to get my coat to the drycleaners”

 

“Why such an urgent rush to get your coat cleaned?”

 

“Oh I don’t know, maybe because last night it somehow ended up on the ground and now it is covered in your shoe prints and smells like salt water and fresh fish”. She starts laughing again. The anger is gone as quickly as it appeared. It is bizarre. I couldn’t help but laugh with her. She closes the door to her office and I walk to the elevator with her. We get in.

 

“So what are you doing this weekend? Will I see you again?”

 

“I don’t know. Roman left a message for me earlier saying he was leaving for a weekend fishing trip with Bo and his dad, and Sammi is in Colorado visiting Eric. I may take advantage of the free time and do some spring cleaning.”

 

“Didn’t Roman just get back from a stake-out last night?”

 

“Yes he did. I didn’t see him. I was asleep when he got home and he left before I got out of the shower this morning.”

 

“So lemme get this straight – he hasn’t seen his wife in 3 days and he leaves to go on a fishing trip all weekend of his own free will?”

 

“Apparently so.”

 

“Is he angry with you or something”

 

“Yes he is. He wanted to…well last night he wanted to…well you know…I told him

I was in my period.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“John you know that I’m not. I just needed an excuse because I am covered from head to toe in bites, bruises, and hickeys…Not that I am complaining or anything…” I scratch my head, baffled once again by her casual attitude about everything.

 

“Well I just thought maybe you started when you got home last night, or maybe you were PMSing – I don’t know – just thought maybe that would explain your sudden change in behavior…you know…hormones and all that stuff…” The elevator stops at the first floor. We get off.

 

“Well call me if you get bored or just need a friend to talk to.” Several people are in hearing distance but Marlena makes sure to tell me goodbye.

 

“I will. And you call me if you need someone to take a look at those cuts. Like I said before, exploding wine bottles can be pretty dangerous.”

 

I stand there dumbfounded as I watch her walk towards the hospital doors, and I can hear her laughing all the way out the door.

 

 

 

Chapter 2 – About Last night’

 

MARLENA

 

I have been laying in the bubble bath for about thirty minutes. The house is dark, quiet, and lonely. I watch the candlelight shadows dancing on the wall, the wax from the candles dripping down the sides and forming wax castles on the ceramic tub. I came home to my dark empty home, checked the answering machine. There was one message – it was Roman.

 

He decided to leave early and wouldn’t be back from his fishing trip until late Sunday night. Big surprise. I know have no right to be angry with him for leaving yet again – it seems all he ever does lately is work and fish. It is as if he doesn’t want to spend time with me anymore, he prefers to be anywhere but at home – with his wife. But can I really blame him? I haven’t been much of a wife anyway. At first I tried before to blame it on John – on his feelings for me – and my feelings for him. But looking back, it started way before John and I – even before the incident with Stella and the pit.

 

In fact, since he returned home after all those years and we found out he was Roman, and John wasn’t, nothing has been the same. I realize now my love for Roman is very different than the love I feel for John. I have accepted the fact that I fell in love with John Black – and from that point on his love consumed me, and it always will. I realized something yesterday – I have put every ounce of energy and strength into denying my feelings for John, fighting my love for him.

 

And I know now it is absolutely impossible. I think that is where this change in me came from – I guess some people would call it acceptance. I accept the fact that I can no more deny my love for John than I could deny the love for my children – my flesh, my blood. I can even admit now that if I were to have met John when Roman and I were first married, I still would have fallen in love with John…I still would have betrayed my marriage vows to Roman. My feelings for John have nothing to do with a case of mistaken identity. And I accept that now. I can’t keep lying to myself – I can lie to my friends and family, but deep down – I know the truth. John knows the truth. I am just amazed that Roman doesn’t know the truth. It would devastate him.

 

I feel alone. Totally and completely alone. It isn’t a very good feeling. I finish off the glass of wine I poured and sink deeper into the warm lilac-scented bubbles. Tired of thinking, I turn the radio on and hear the slow sweet sounds of Anita Baker’s Rapture playing on the radio.

 

I close my eyes and an image of John feeding me strawberries appears in my mind. Dear God in Heaven, how in the world could I be so consumed with this man? Am I obsessed? Can a person become addicted to another person, craving them just as badly as an alcoholic or drug addict crazes their next fix? Apparently so, because I want him again. I look down at my body and see his love marks scattering my body, their reddish tint now turning blue , his handprint bruises turning from blue to yellow, and yet I want him again.

 

And I know, even as the knot on the back of my head throbs and my muscles ache from last night’s liaison, I know that I will have him again. I don’t know when and I don’t know where, but I can’t fathom the idea of never feeling his touch again. Yes I am definitely obsessed. Just as I always have been. But I am different now. Because I accept it. I have given up fighting. It was a valiant effort but I failed miserably. And I simply can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I hear the phone ringing but I don’t get up. I close my eyes, and lose myself in Anita’s slow sultry melodic voice. I have put the cd player on repeat so I can listen to her song over and over again. She must have been obsessed with someone too at some point in her life. I can tell by the way she captures the essence of her song – the essence of John and me.

 

The phone stops ringing and I let myself drift off into that wonderful place that lies just between wake and sleep…that dreamlike state where fantasies lie. I allow myself to let go, to travel back in time to last night, the night that I changed, the night that I stopped denying and started accepting. The night that I finally stopped fighting my inner demons and finally went to John…on MY terms

 

………………………

 

Last Night

 

Roman had been on a stakeout. I was antsy, fidgety, frustrated, and alone. The house was too quiet. I can’t sleep. I have been tossing and turning in the bed for hours. I look at the clock. 11:35pm. I get out of the bed and go downstairs and fixed myself a cup of hot tea. It doesn’t help. I step outside into the cool night air. It doesn’t help. I soak in a hot bath. It doesn’t help. I pick up the phone and called John. It helps.

 

“John Black”

 

“It’s me.”

 

The immediate concern and panic in his voice is evident. “Are you ok?? What’s rong?”

 

He knows something must be very wrong for me to be calling him this late. I never call him. It is too risky. But tonight is different. I don’t care about the risk, I don’t care about consequences. I need to hear his voice.

 

“Yeah I am ok. Are you at home?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you alone?”

 

“No. “

 

“I need to talk you”

 

“Now?”

 

“Yes”

 

“Hold on one second ok.” I hear him excusing himself, telling someone he has an

important business call and he has to take it. I can picture him getting up from the table to find some privacy.

 

“Doc what’s wrong?

 

“I can’t sleep.”

 

“Honey what else is wrong.”

 

“Nothing why?”

 

“Because you never call me, especially at night. Is it Roman? Did you two have a fight?”

 

“No. He is on a stakeout. I am alone. My mind is racing. I can’t stop it John. I just needed to talk to someone.”

 

“Have you tried-“ I cut him off, getting frustrated.

 

“I have tried hot tea, I have tried a warm bath, and I have tried fresh air. Nothing is working.” My voice catches in my throat as I start to cry. John becomes more concerned.

 

“Just try to relax baby. It could be a panic attack. Have you tried taking something? For anxiety?”

 

I snap.

 

“I don’t want to take anything dammit. I want you”

 

There is a long period of silence. Finally I speak…

 

“John are you still there?”

 

“I am here.”

 

“Can you meet me somewhere?”

 

“Doc are you sure that is a good idea?” He is confused. I can understand why. For months I have been pushing him away. Now it is almost midnight and I am suddenly calling him to arrange a meeting place. He must think I am out of my mind. Truth be known, I am out of my mind. But for some reason I feel saner than I have in months.

 

“I don’t care if it is a good idea. Can you take Rebecca home and meet me somewhere?”

 

“How do you know I am with Rebecca?”

 

“Because she doesn’t let you out of her sight.” John sighs in frustration. I know where that frustration is coming from. I push him into another woman’s arms then I get jealous and pull him back. Then once I get him back, I push him away again. I treat him like a yo-yo.

 

“We are in separate cars. I can meet you in ten minutes. Where?”

 

“I can come to your place.”

 

“NO.”

 

“Why not? Is the babysitter there with Brady?”

 

“No Brady is staying at Victors tonight.”

 

“Then that settles it. I will see you at the loft in ten minutes.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes there is a problem Marlena. You know damn well if we meet at my house there is a good chance we will end up in my bed. “

 

“Would that be so bad?”

 

“I can’t think of any place I would rather be than in my bed with you Doc but we can’t do that anymore. I know how it will end. You will start crying and storm out, overcome with shame and guilt. And I will be left feeling like some kind of animal that can’t control his basic urges. We promised we would try harder. I can’t do that to you anymore. I don’t trust myself to be alone in my house with you. I can meet you somewhere to talk but that’s it.”

 

“Fine John. Can you meet me at ‘our place’?

 

“Yeah I will be there in ten.”

 

“OK.”

 

“Please drive safe, the roads are slippery.”

 

“I will. Bye.” I hang up and throw some clothes on and grab my coat. I arrive at our meeting place in seven minutes. I drive too fast. John will be angry with me. I get out of the car and practically run down the stairs towards ‘Our Place’. The Pier.

 

I manage to get down the stairs without falling, slipping twice on the wet steps but catching myself before tumbling down to the ground. I giggle to myself at the thought of John waiting for me by the water only to see me make my grand entrance by rolling down the steps and landing with a thud at the bottom. Luckily, I don’t fall. I stand close to the water, and close my eyes, my senses overloaded with the sounds and smells of the place that has become so special to us over the years.

 

Usually, I can come here anytime when I am alone and overwrought with emotions and just the mere sounds and smells will calm me, lulling me into a peaceful relaxed state. But tonight is different. I am different. I try to catch my breath but the harder I try, the shallower it becomes. Dear God, I feel as if I am panting – like a dog in heat.

 

Finally I hear footsteps slowly down the stairs. I don’t turn around. I don’t have to – I know who it is. The hair on the back of my neck stands up – John is the only man that can enter a room and I sense his presence before I see him. My body senses his body. It is a very animalistic feeling – it used to scare me – this animal in me that only he brings out. Tonight I welcome it.

 

John slowly saunters over to me and stands behind me. I can tell without ever turning around to face him what he is feeling – confusion, irritation, frustration, and concern. Bless his heart, he has been trying so hard.

 

I remember the day that Carries bandages were taken off, we talked in my office. I was at my breaking point. I told him I had been fighting, devoting every ounce of strength into getting over him but it just wasn’t working. I was crying. He reassured me. He told me we would just have to try harder; that we could beat this; that we could move past this and get on with our lives. He told me what I needed to hear. I believed him. I don’t believe him anymore.

 

Finally I speak.

 

“Thank you for coming.”

 

“Your welcome.” He sounds distant, and in control. I don’t want him to be in control. I want him to feel wild, overcome with desire and passion; I want him to grab me, to hold me, to touch me; I want his mouth on mine. I want to unleash the animal in him.

 

I turn around to face him. He isn’t wearing a coat. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his white shirt are undone. His hair is damp curling under at the ends from the heavy mist in air.

 

I don’t think I have ever found him more attractive than I do right now. This man is a God, his body sculpted and put on earth for the soul intention of driving women crazy. He used to be mine. I want him to be mine again.

 

“John-“

 

“What’s going on with you?

 

“I know we were supposed to stay away from each other, we aren’t supposed to be alone; I know that John. I…” I can’t get the words any more words to come out, my voice is quivering; I am shaking, panting, my heart is racing. I know that he is fighting the impulse to take me in his arms and hug me, to calm me.

 

“Honey its ok. Talk to me baby. What can I do?” He is being so gentle, so kind. He shoves his hands in his pockets, no doubt to keep from touching me. He knows that would be flying with fire, and he doesn’t want to get burned again. I step towards him and look him straight in the eyes.

 

“I want you to make love to me”

 

“Marlena-“

 

“Don’t talk John please. Just do it.”

 

“Doc, we have been down this road before. Twice. And it only makes you feel worse. I won’t put you through that again.”

 

“I won’t take no for an answer”

 

“Yes you will Doc. You don’t have a choice.”

 

I reach out, my hand touching his face. He jerks away as if he has been burned.

 

“What is it John. You don’t want me anymore??

 

“Are You Out Of Your MIND Marlena? Of course I want you, I never stopped wanting you, I think about you every second of every day.”

 

I reach out again, my hand tracing a pattern from his neck to the hair on his check.

 

“Do you think about with me when you are with Rebecca?”

 

He grabs my hand, holding it in his and stopping my descent towards the third button on his shirt that I am intent on releasing.

 

“Marlena I said that I think about you always. Rebecca is a distraction. You told me to move on with my life. I am trying to do that. But you are making it extremely difficult right now.”

 

My other hand is on his on his left bicep, which immediately tightens in response to my touch.

 

“John please…Don’t make me beg.” He grabs my other hand, now holding both of them tightly. I can tell by the gleam of desire in his eyes and the force with  which he is squeezing my hands that his control is weakening.

 

“Marlena you have to stop this right now. You are going to regret this if you don’t. You know me – I can’t deny you. So walk away. Now. Before it is too late.”

 

I don’t walk away. I step closer until there is no space between us. My body is against his. I feel the evidence of his desire against my lower abdomen. His breathing his shallow, I can feel his heart banging against his chest. I place my open lips against his neck; my tongue starts tracing tiny circles on his skin. I taste the salt and breathe in deeply, indulging myself in the feel of his skin in my mouth. He is putting up a valiant effort but I know he is about to lose the battle. He let’s go of my hands and forcefully grabs my upper arms, giving me one hard shake.

 

“God Dammit Marlena. I said stop it. NOW!” My mouth moves up to his lips and my

tongue darts out, quickly flicking against his bottom lip. I know this drives him wild, it always has.

 

“And I said NO!” As my tongue travels to the spot under his neck, I whisper seductively. “John remember that night in your car, after you paid for the dance with me, remember what you said to me? You said if I ever found myself wanting you, to please come to you – on whatever terms I asked. Do you remember that baby?” My hands are now slowly unbuttoning his shirt, my mouth following my hands, my tongue tickling the hair on his chest. He remains perfectly still, frozen, he is afraid to move, afraid to speak, afraid to break the spell I am weaving around him.

 

“I remember” His voice comes out in a throaty growl, and I know I have won. My mouth travels up to the spot on his neck, right under his ear, and I nip him softly. He lets out a gush of air. He is shaking.

 

“Well you got your wish baby. I want you. Inside me. Right now.” And with those last words, he snaps. My animal lover is back. He frantically looks around for a hidden spot. He instantly grabs me and forcefully jerks me, pulling me behind and up under the stairwell. It is perfect spot for two lovers to hide.

 

He grabs the collar of my coat, jerking it down my arms halfway before backing me up against the wall. I frantically pull my arms out of my coat, desperate to free my hands so they can return to his body. My coat falls to the ground. His hands rip my blouse open as I grab his unbuttoned shirt and jerk it off. Removing his hands from his shirt he throws it to the ground before grabbing my pants and jerking them down. A button flies through the air. While he is pulling my pants down I am fumbling with his belt. I can’t get his pants down fast enough. He can’t get my panties off fast enough. He doesn’t waste very much time trying as I hear sound of silk ripping. He flings them over his shoulder then I feel his hands pushing mine out of the away to unbuckle his belt and unfasten his pants. One they are undone, my hands meet his again and together we grab at his boxers, tugging both his pants and boxers downwards until they drop around his ankles.

 

He never even bothers to step out of his pant legs, he is already grabbing my ass and lifting me in one quick motion. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist as he forcefully slams me up against the wall. I yelp in shock. My hands grab hold of his hair, jerking his face to mine, my mouth attacking his, our tongues, teeth, and lips bruising each other with the force of our kisses. Grabbing my hair, her pulls my head down, his mouth biting and sucking every square inch of my neck and chest.

 

We are panting, desperate for air. I hear the sounds of our breathing and anyone else would think we were hyperventilating and in desperate need of medical attention. I pull his head back up, my mouth desperate for something to do. My hands travel downward, grasping his dick, urging him to give me some kind of release from this torture. He growls deep in his throat, the feel of my hands stroking him driving him to the edge. I am frantic. We are frantic.

 

Dear God in Heaven he is strong. He is somehow holding all of my body weight against the wall with one hand, his other hand grabbing at my breasts, squeezing them, before replacing his hand with his mouth. His finger is inside me now, thrusting in and out. The pleasure becomes too much for me, I grab his hair again, jerking his head up by the hair and biting down on his cheek to crying out from the pleasure.

 

He growls again. God I love the sound of his growls. His growl mixes with the sound of a foghorn in the distance. The sounds of the water lapping against the pier are overshadowed by the sound of me moaning loudly and begging for his mercy.

 

“JOHN, PLEASE!”

 

“Please what?” He pants. “Tell me what you want”

 

“I want you…” I squeeze his dick. “I want THIS.” He ignores me, tormenting me, thrusting his fingers in and out of me. The animal in me his tired of the torment. I take a deep breath and find my voice then demand he put an end to the torture. Our eyes lock.

 

“John Black, put your dick inside me right now or I will kill you, I swear.”

 

He somehow manages to smile at me. He always loved when I talked dirty to him.

 

And then, in a flash, both hands grasp my ass as he forcefully enters me, burying himself in me totally and completely.

 

I hear my voice echo in the night.

 

“OH FUCK!”. I throw my head back in ecstasy, banging it hard against the wall behind me. John doesn’t waste any time, roughly thrusting in and out quickly. Our bodies are soaked with sweat, mist, and salt. As he smoothly slides in and out, my head moving back and forth, I hear him groaning.

 

“SHIT Marlena. I can’t…I’m gonna”

 

“OH God John Please…Harder.” John picks up the pace, slamming into me harder. Less than five seconds later I feel his hand coming up to cover my mouth. I bite down on the base of his pal and taste blood. With one final thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me. We scream each other’s name as I feel his seeds shooting into me, then we are spiraling, out of control with pure and total ecstasy. I feel our warm juices sliding down my thighs, his legs are shaking, and his strangled voice reverberates through my body.

 

“Oh God…Baby…I love you so much baby…” As I float back down to earth, I realize the sound of his voice is different – it doesn’t sound like John but more like a child. He buries his head on my shoulder. He is mumbling unintelligible words against my shoulder and it he sounds more like a child choking than the grown man that has just taken me on the most unimaginable ride of my life.

 

In unison, I slide down the wall, the rough wood splintering my back, as he falls to his knees, my legs still wrapped around his waist. He looks up at me and I see tears shimmering in his eyes. We remain on the ground for what seems like only hours, both of us trying to catch our breath. He places his forehead against mine, his eyes cast downward, afraid to see the anger, the shame and guilt in my eyes. But there is no shame, there is no guilt. That was before. I am different now. I came to him. On my terms.

 

I reach out and place a finger under his chin, tilting his head up until I can see his blue eyes staring back at me. I smile. And then whisper three simple words.

 

“Thank You John.”

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Teething Time

 

My bones feel chilled. The CD player is skipping. I must have dozed off for more than a few minutes because my hot bath is now cold, most of my candles have burned out, and the bathroom is bathed in moonlight. I quickly step out of the tub and grab my heavy thick robe, wrapping it tightly around me. I blow out the remaining lit candles and turn the CD player off, then let the water drain out.

 

I head downstairs, hoping a cup of hot tea will take the chill off. While I am in the kitchen, I notice the time: 8:00. I cannot believe I feel asleep in the bathtub. I am not sure what is going on with me lately, my body is either wide awake or sound asleep. I keep having periods of restlessness followed by stretches of extreme exhaustion. I finish with my tea and head to the couch, wrapping myself up in a warm blanket.

 

As soon as I get comfortable, I hear a knock at the door. It scares me at first. I was not expecting anyone – the kids and Roman are both out of town. Unless it is……..

 

I pick up the phone and call John. He answers immediately.

 

“Yeah it’s me. Open up.” I hurry to the door. He is standing in the rain. He enters the house and I immediately get nervous. “John what are you doing here??”

 

“I was worried about you. I have been trying to call you for the last couple of hours and you didn’t answer. I needed to know you were ok.”

 

“Of course I am ok, John. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Well your behavior last night, then today at the hospital, and then tonight I couldn’t get you to answer the phone. I knew Roman was out of town and you were alone. And I knew if anything was wrong, well, I just didn’t want you to be alone. I needed to hear you tell me that you are ok.” His eyes are filled with concern and worry. He seems so nervous…his eyes darting around the room, looking for signs of something amiss.

 

“John I told you I am fine. And it is really a bad idea for you to be hear – if someone saw your car-“

 

“I won’t be long. No one will suspect a thing unless we give them reason to Doc.”

 

“Where is Brady?”

 

“At home – with the babysitter.”

 

“OK. Well now that you have seen for yourself that I am fine, don’t you think you should get home to relieve her of her duties?”

 

“I’m not convinced.”

 

“John I promise you I am ok.”

 

“Tell me what happened last night.”

 

“I told you already.”

 

“Tell me again.”

 

“John-“

 

“Did you and Roman have a fight? Is that what sent you running into my arms last night?”

 

“No we didn’t have a fight. We don’t fight. We barely even see each other anymore. I have talked to you about that already though. Nothing is new there.”

 

“Doc, I just don’t understand what changed. I need to understand. “

 

“There isn’t anything to understand. I just needed something that only you could give me. I needed to be loved, I needed to be wanted. And you did that – very well. And I thanked you.”

 

“Yeah I remember that part. Very well.”

 

“Then what do you need me to clarify for you.”

 

“You said you were coming to me – on your terms.”

 

“That’s right.”

 

“And that’s all.”

 

“That’s all.”

 

“So will you be coming to me again?” Silence fills the room and the familiar warmth spreads down my spine as I see desire flash across his eyes. The room is dark. I am suddenly all too aware that I am only wearing a bathrobe. John is well aware of that too, his gaze drifting to my cleavage.

 

“I don’t know.” And as our eyes meet, he knows I am lying. He knows I will come to him again, he can see it written all over my face. Thankfully he doesn’t push me anymore. He simply reaches in his pocket and gives me a single spare key. To the loft. He places it in my hand, then closes his hand over mine.

 

“Keep this. The pier is too dangerous. Someone might see us. Keep this key and know you can come to me any time you want, day or night.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Doc, just so you know, I broke things off with Rebecca tonight.”

 

“John, you-“

 

“It was the right thing to do Doc. I couldn’t keep stringing her along. It wasn’t right. I told her that it was too soon after Isabella and I just wasn’t ready for a relationship.

 

She accepted it. She wasn’t real happy about it but she understood. ”

 

“Of course she did. It makes perfect sense.” I try to swallow but the lump in my throat gets in the way. It breaks my heart to see him this way, fumbling through life trying to find his path with his new son – the only problem is every path he takes leads him straight to me. It has always been that way, sense we first met.

 

All roads lead to each other. We cannot seem to get away from each other, no matter how hard we try. I accept that now. I often tell my patients to change what they cannot accept in life and when all else fails, to accept what they cannot change. Last night, when I went to him, I was tired of trying to change what I couldn’t accept – so I accepted what couldn’t be changed.

 

Tonight it feels as if he is doing a little accepting of his own…breaking things off with Rebecca, bringing me a spare key to the loft…I notice the yearning in his eyes. It almost breaks me. I reach out to touch his face. I hear the rain and thunder outside as the lightening lights up the dark room momentarily. He takes my hand in his, removing it from his face.

 

“I need to get home. “

 

“Brady still hates storms?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“John are you ok?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just weird, to be standing here, in this house with you. Alone. In

the dark.”

 

“Seems like yesterday doesn’t it?”

 

“Yeah.” The air between us grows thick and I take a step closer to John. He is lonely. I sense that. There is a yearning in his eyes, but it is different than before. There is a sadness there – a sadness that comes from accepting one’s own fate – no matter how bleak. My heart breaks for him. I know how he feels. It is times like this when I want to scream at the top of my lungs to the world “IT ISN’T FAIR!!!! LIFE ISN’T FAIR!!!!”. He needs a wife, his beautiful son needs a mother. Why can’t that be me??

 

“I need to go.”

 

“You said that already.”

 

“I know. ..I love you Marlena.”

 

“I love you John. Give Brady a kiss for me.”

 

“I always do.” I watch him walk out the door, run through the rain, get in his

car, and drive away.

 

Five minutes pass. I am still staring out the window. I miss him already.

 

After placing the spare key John gave me on my keychain tucked between my office key and my desk key, I head upstairs to change into some pajamas. I skip dinner and crawl into the bed. Lying in bed, I close my eyes, but can’t find the sleep that I crave. I toss and turn for several hours before getting out of bed. I look at the clock. 12:00. I can’t help but wonder if John is asleep.

 

I get out of bed and head downstairs, and lay down on the couch…One hour passes.

 

Still no sleep. My breathing has become quicker, and I am wide awake. I don’t even bother trying the hot tea or fresh air tonight. I know what my body is craving. I need John – I need to smell him, to feel him, to touch him.

 

As I run upstairs and quickly throw some clothes on, I wonder if this is what a junkie must feel like minutes before getting their fix?

 

Luckily the rain has stopped it doesn’t take me long to get to the loft – I leave my house at 1am and arrive at John’s loft at 1:12am. I slowly slide the key in and turn it, then slide the door open as quietly as possible, being extra careful so that I don’t wake Brady.

 

Once inside, I close the door behind me and slowly lock the door. Safe inside John’s house, I set my purse down on the bar and slide my shoes off, leaving them on the floor. I inhale deeply, letting the smell of John invade my senses.

 

His voice startles me.

 

“What took you so long?”

 

“Jesus, John you scared me!”

 

“I scared you? You are the one sneaking into my house in the middle of the night.”

 

“I wasn’t sneaking. I was trying not to wake Brady.”

 

“Yeah well good luck with that.”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m not sure. Teething maybe. The babysitter said he had been really fussy today. She wasn’t lying. He finally passed out about an hour ago.”

 

“Poor thing. Did you take his temp?”

 

“Yeah, it was 99.5 – so probably just teething. I gave him some Tylenol around 11:30 and he fell asleep around 12 so I think the Tylenol helped.” I start to head to Brady’s room.

 

“Why don’t I check on him?”

 

“I just checked on him thirty minutes ago. He was sleeping and wasn’t warm at all.”

 

“But still I could just-“ His voice interrupts me.

 

“He’s fine Doc. Why don’t you come over here and check on me instead?”

 

I slowly turn around to face him. My eyes have adjusted to the dark room now and I can see him stretched out on the couch, wearing black pajama bottoms and no top. His blue eyes pierce through me – Is it possible that he actually grows sexier every time I see him? It has been so long since I have seen him in lying on the couch in pajamas – such a simple thing you take for granted when you are happily married – seeing the man you are head over heels in love with lounging on the couch, his bedroom eyes begging you to join him.

 

Since our affair began, we have been together three times; on his place, on a

conference room table, and on the pier. All three times, it was frantic, desperate, rushed. This feels totally different. Time seems to have slowed down. I slowly walk over to him until I am standing directly above him looking down at him. My gaze travels slowly down his body then slowly back up again.

 

“Check on you? Why John, are you sick?”

 

“Possibly.” His voice is seducing me, urging me on. His eyes caress me; his eyes command my hands to move, and my hands are obeying each and every command.

 

I slowly unbutton my blouse, my eyes never leaving his.

 

“What seems to be the problem?” My hands unbutton my blouse and it falls to the floor. I watch as the little muscle in his jaw twitches – I have his undivided attention…or at least my breasts do.

 

“I want you so badly Marlena. “

 

“I want you …just as much… if not more.” John sits up on the couch. Picking up where I left off, he finishes undressing me, slowly removing my pants and panties before reaching up to remove my bra.

 

Once I am standing completely naked before him, he takes my hands, gently pulling me onto his lap. For several minutes we just stare at each other, both of us enjoying the fact that we can take our time….we can take things exquisitely slow, almost painfully so, like we did so many times together as husband and wife.

 

We never break eye contact as his hands trace the curve of my shoulder, down the side of my stomach, over my hip, and down my thigh. While his hands slowly caress me, he teases me with his mouth, brushing his lips as close as possible to mine without touching them. Ours breaths mingle, our mouths open, but he still does not kiss me.

 

Instead he slowly leaves a trail of butterfly kisses down the hollow of my neck to my chest. Finally his mouth begins the journey towards my breasts. I wrap my legs tightly around his waist, reveling in the feel of his erection pushing hard against my own desire. He is torturing me. His tongue slowly traces a patch, inch by tiny inch, across one nipple before starting the long trip towards the other nipple. My head drops back, a rush of breath escaping me. “Oh God John please…” John tilts my head back up; I place my forehead against his.

 

“Please what Marlena?” His breath tickles my ear, his tongue flicking against it before I feel his teeth grazing my earlobe then nipping at my neck.

 

“Oh please, please don’t stop.”

 

“I don’t have any intention of stopping baby.” His hands grip my waist and in one quick movement he has me on lying flat on my back on the couch. He kisses my lips softly, his tongue sliding in my mouth slowly, my fingers are slowly slide down his sides, and I use my nails to tickle the hair on taut lower belly– I remember all too well how much he loved when I did this. My fingers trace circles down his hips before sliding under his pajama pants – he holds his breath in anticipation as my hands travel dangerously close to his erection without touching it, teasing him, driving him mad. I watch as the sweat beads form on his temple; his skin feels like fire. I feel him suck softly on my earlobe before nipping it with his teeth; then I feel his breath in my ear.

 

“Marlena, please…let me taste you.” I simply moan, unable to get any coherent words out. He raises up and I spread my legs, opening myself to him; only him. He groans in response as I guide his head southwards. I whimper as I feel his breath against my stomach. I am quivering as he moves lower…his mouth almost there…he is so close… and then –

 

Brady’s cries slice through the darkness. I jerk John’s head back up. “Honey it’s Brady. He’s awake.”

 

John’s frustration is evident in his voice. “You have got to be fuckin kidding me??”

 

Brady’s cry has the same effect on me as several buckets of ice-cold water. John, however, has a one-track mind.

 

He whispers seductively in my ear “Wait Baby, let’s just wait a second, sometimes he goes right back.”

 

“John we need to check on him.” John takes a deep breath before he gets up and goes to Brady’s room. I scramble to get my panties, then throw on John’s pajama top and quickly button it before joining him in Brady’s room. Brady stops crying as soon as he sees me enter his room. His hands reach out.

 

Like a mother hen, I take over, eager to console Brady. John watches as I bounce him on my hip and try to coax a smile out of him. He rewards me with a precious toothless grin.

 

“Doc, he isn’t ever gonna go back to sleep if you start playing with him.”

 

“John where is the thermometer? I just want to make sure he isn’t running a temp.”

 

“Baby he is fine. I promise you.”

 

“I know he is; I just need to be sure.”

 

“In my bedroom. On the night stand. “

 

John follows us to his room; his head hanging low like a sad puppy-dog that just got scolded.

 

I lay Brady on John’s bed and take his temp. It is normal. I look up at John and he raises his eyebrow and smirks as if to say ‘I told you so’. I look into his mouth and see the culprit of his restlessness; his red swollen gums a telltale sign of teething.

 

Secure in the knowledge that Brady is fine, I cuddle up with him on John’s bed and John sits down beside me and starts running his fingers through my hair. Snuggled up in bed with Brady on one side of me and John on the other, I feel more at peace that I have in years…like I have finally found my own little slice of heaven.

 

That is the last thought I have before drifting off to sleep.

 

 

Chapter 4 – Breakfast In Bed

 

She is sleeping.

 

In my bed.

 

My son is wrapped up in her arms, her bottom is pressed intimately against my erection, her hair lays tousled on my pillow, and she sleeps.

 

She looks like some kind of ethereal goddess when she sleeps. She always has. I wonder if she knows how many hours of our marriage I spent just watching her sleep.

 

I also wonder if Roman has spent even half as many hours watching her sleep. I seriously doubt it. He doesn’t love her the way I do. It simply isn’t possible If he did, he wouldn’t find it so easy to leave her alone night after night. It absolutely baffles my brain.

 

When she was my wife, if work kept me away from her for even one night, I was

absolutely miserable. I did everything in my power to make sure I didn’t get

assigned to overnight stakeouts – I knew how much it worried her but also I knew how much it bothered me – just to be away from her for one night. It was torture.

 

Roman, on the other hand, seems to have no qualms with leaving her alone for nights, sometimes weeks at a time. It disgusts me. I understand it is hard for him, he was presumed dead then returned to find out I had been living his life – with his wife – that has to be disturbing. Sometimes he acts as though none of it ever happened; as though he was never gone. Or at least, he pretends as though he was never gone.

 

And he works all hours of the day and night, leaving Marlena at home, alone. And while she struggles to try to pick up the pieces of their crumbling marriage and hold their family together, he chases bad guys…and fishes on his days off. She is tired of the struggle. I sense that now.

 

She is starting to give up. It breaks my heart that she is carrying this burden alone.

 

She misses her babies. The twinners are in Colorado with their grandparents.

Several weeks ago, Marlena told me she was worried about them because they were

not adjusting well to all of the changes; their mom returned from the dead,

then they lost me, and gained Roman as their new dad.

 

First their grades started dropping, then their teachers started calling. Then they started withdrawing from her, and from everyone around them. She hated to see them in so much pain so she gave them what they wanted, she let them run away. And now she says they won’t come home. I have tried to tell her they are ten; they have to come home. They shouldn’t be given a choice in the matter. They are way too young to be making such life-changing decisions.

 

But Marlena is terrified of damaging them even more. She thinks they need stability. I think they need their mother.

 

She is smiling in her sleep, no doubt dreaming. I love seeing her this way, sleeping, dreaming, free from her worries and fears. Her bottom wiggles sensuously against me, and I groan at the delicious sensation. She whispers my name softly. She is dreaming of me. My heart swells. That isn’t the only thing that swells.

 

I ease out of bed and carefully pry Brady out of her arms. Somehow I manage to move him to his own bed without waking him. He never even stirs. He is obviously tired from his lack of sleep last night. Maybe this means he will sleep in past sunrise this morning.

 

Closing my bedroom door, I slide my pajama pants off and sit on the foot of my bed. She is sleeping on her back now. I slide the sheets off of her. Even though she looks sexy as hell in my pajama top and her low-cut lacy panties, I know she will look even sexier without them.

 

My fingers quickly unbutton the pajama top and slide it open. I place tiny kisses on her forehead, her nose, and her chin, then leave a trail of kisses along her collarbone. My lips open and I place hot wet kisses on her belly.

 

She sighs in her sleep, saying my name once again. I love knowing it is me that she dreams about. My tongue quickly darts in and out of her bellybutton before tracing a path along the top of her panties.

 

Her breath catches in her throat. I stop.

 

Her smile disappears. With my tongue, I trace another wet line across her panty line. Her smile reappears. Bending her legs, I lick the underside of each knee before starting a trail of kisses up the inside of one of her thighs, stopping just short of her promised land. My lips quickly move to her other thigh, my tongue making zigzag lines across her porcelain skin.

 

I can’t keep this up much longer; I am supposed to be teasing her out of her sleep but instead she is driving me insane with desire. I slowly tug her tiny panties down her legs and they quickly get lost in the satin sheets. Positioning myself between her legs; my arms on each side of her, I devote my attention to her beautiful breasts.

 

Dear God in Heaven, they are the most perfect breasts I have ever seen. I tenderly kiss one then the other, moving back and forth, feasting on them. I could spend hours upon hours making love to her breasts alone; she used to tease me about this when we were married. She would laugh playfully and tell me she was secretly jealous of her own breasts because I gave them so much attention.

 

God, I would move heaven and earth to be her husband again. I suck hard on one

breast while massaging the other one. She gasps in her sleep. My hips tilt forward, pressing my desire against her centre. She mumbles something incoherent in her sleep.

 

I whisper against her breast. “What Marlena?”

 

She hears me in her dreams. She whimpers my name. My tongue flicks one nipple then the other before slowly making its way back to her flat stomach. “Open your eyes Marlena.”

 

“Nooo”

 

“Noooo?” I move lower, my mouth dangerously close to her desire. I want her to be awake, I want her looking at me. “Why not honey? ”

 

She whimpers, biting her bottom lip. “I can’t. “ I smile as I look up at her. She thinks this is a dream. She doesn’t want to open her eyes until the dream is over. She has become accustomed to fulfilling her fantasies in her sleep…and I thought I was the only one haunted by such vivid wet dreams…I whisper again, my breath hot against her core. “Baby open your eyes and look at me.”

 

She is biting her lip again. “No not yet. Please.”

 

“Do you want me to taste you?”

 

She moans. “Oh God yes.”

 

“Then open your eyes and watch me.” Her eyes flutter several times before I am greeted with those sultry hazel bedroom eyes, so dark from desire that they look almost green. “John…”

 

“Good morning sunshine.” My head moves between her legs, and my tongue finally caresses her in the most intimate of ways. Her hands clutch the sheets on both sides of her, her head falls back against the headboard with a thud, as she mumbles, “Oh….Dear God….”

 

I take my time. I have missed loving her this way. It has been way to long. I slowly run my tongue along the length of her lips before pushing slightly to gain entrance. She is wet.

 

She tastes sweeter than I remember – I keep reminding myself to go slow when I am tempted to feast on her like I am dying from starvation. It feels as if I have molten hot lava coursing through my veins – only she can make me feel this way.

 

She is making those little sounds – those whimpers that always drove me insane with desire. Her hands reach down and I feel her grab hold of my hair, encouraging me, pleading with me to continue. I don’t need any encouragement.

 

My tongue slides in and out of her, then dances around on her pleasure spot before moving back inside her. She is writhing now, her head thrashing back and forth on the slippery sheets. I can’t last much longer. I hear her gasping, trying to suck in enough air to catch her breath. I know she is almost there; I know her body better than I know my own. Her body tenses, her sounds change from whimpers to gasps. “That’s it baby, cum for me baby”

 

The sound of my urgent plea sends her over the edge, I lap up her juices. I look up to see she is still watching me as she rides wave after wave of intense pleasure. Her glazed eyes remain locked on mine .

 

I slowly place kisses up her stomach then her breasts, then her chest and neck, reveling in the way her body feels and tastes when it is glistening, damp with sweat that I created. When I reach her face, she smiles, a smile that gives new meaning to the cat who swallowed the canary.

 

Dear God she is the most exquisite creature to ever grace the face of this earth.

 

She speaks to me in that raspy sexy voice I remember all too well. “Morning sailor. Enjoy your breakfast?” She grins at me, her eyes reeking of sex and desire.

 

I grin back at her. “Ohhhh you have nooooo idea…” She opens her mouth, her tongue licking her lips.

 

“My turn??” Placing her arms on my chest she pushes me down on my back.

 

“Doc wait…” I feel her tongue sliding down my chest. I suck in a deep breath as I feel her mouth on my stomach. She ignores me. “You don’t have to – Wait.”

 

“I don’t want to wait.” I feel her mouth, hot and wet on my upper thighs, and I groan.

 

“Baby I can’t – not much longer.” Her hands finally reach their destination.

 

 

“You don’t have to baby. I’m right here.” Her voice is soothing, but her hands are driving me to the brink. As she strokes me, her mouth encircles me. My body is on fire. No words in this world can express the feeling I get from watching her pleasure me. It is indescribable. I cannot breathe. It has been so long – I knew I wouldn’t last very long but this is insane. She tilts her head at an angle, taking all of me into her mouth, while her eyes look up at me from below.

 

My brain takes one snapshot of this erotic image before I explode; coming apart at the seams; literally…in her mouth. She swallows my seed. I am floating. I hear my own voice mumbling something… nonsense… I don’t even know what I am saying. I can’t be making any sense; I am surprised I am even capable of making a sound.

 

When I float back down to earth – several minutes later; she is laying atop me – looking down into my eyes smiling. I smile back, a little embarrassed at how ‘fast and furious’ that was.

 

She doesn’t seem to mind one bit. She is proud of herself. “You like?”

 

I laugh. “That would a slight understatement.”

 

“It’s nice to see I haven’t lost my touch.”

 

In one quick movement I flip her over on her back, straddling her. She is laughing. “Oh My!!! You haven’t lost yours either I see!!”

 

When we are together like this, it is hard to remember the years we have spent apart. Being with her in bed, laughing, playing; it makes our life together seem like just yesterday.

 

How is it possible that I love her even more???

 

I brush the hair out of her face, tucking it between her ears. I notice there are tears in her eyes.

 

“What is it baby?”

 

“I’m ok.” She wipes a tear away. “I’ve just missed you so much – being with you like this.”

 

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

 

“No it certainly doesn’t.” Her chin quivers; I kiss the tears away.

 

“I love you John. So much it hurts sometimes.”

 

“I know sweetheart. I love you. Always have – always will.”

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

“Well that, my love, is up to you. “ She nods at me, her tears flowing freely now. I hold her face in my hands.

 

“You listen to me Marlena. I am not going to give up on you – not ever. But I am not going to pressure you – I’ve tried that already. It didn’t work very well. I know you don’t want to hurt Roman. I know you aren’t ready for that. And I understand. And I will wait for you – for however long it takes for you to be ready. But one day – he will get hurt. Because you and me – this thing between us – it’s inevitable. That isn’t going to change. I think you know that now. So you take however long you need to tell him. But you’re gonna have to tell him baby. “

 

“I don’t know how I am can do that though.”

 

“Me neither baby….me neither.” I place my forehead against hers. “But we will figure it out…together. I promise you that.”

 

“And until then…what do we do?”

 

“Whatever you want. …I’ll be right here. Waiting.”

 

“You promise?”

 

“I am not going anywhere sweetheart. Not ever.”

 

“I’m going to hold you to that promise John Black.” And she smiles.

 

And it melts my heart.

 

I kiss her softly on the lips.

 

Her hands grab my face, kissing me back – Hard.

 

Her kiss is desperate – as if she is scared, terrified. I match her fervor, as I open my mouth, forcefully thrusting my tongue against hers; trying desperately to force all of her worries and fears away.

 

Gone is the gentleness from seconds ago – she doesn’t want me to be gentle right now.

 

I bite her neck. She moans.

 

I suck hard on her breasts. She groans.

 

Her hands clench my ass. I growl.

 

This is how it goes between her and I – back and forth – hard then soft – gentle then rough – the ying and the yang…Sex with her is never the same. The only thing that is the same; the only constant – is that she blows my mind every time – and I blow hers. Our spines shatter with each and every orgasm. Every time with her is like the first – yet every time with her is like the last….whether we are married or having an affair.

 

Jerking her legs up over my shoulders, I thrust into her. She gasps. “OH GOD JOHN!”

 

I quickly pull back before thrusting into her again. I feel her fingernails digging into my ass, encouraging me, fueling me to go faster, to go harder.

 

I thrust again. Her walls are squeezing the life out of me. I hear myself groan.

 

I thrust again – harder. Her teeth sink into the skin on the top of my shoulder.

 

Again I thrust. Deeper. Her heels press into the top of my back. She gasps for air. I cover her mouth with mine. She whimpers into my mouth, pleading for release “Finish me …please John.”

 

God I love it when she begs me like that.

 

Growling, I bruise my lips against hers as I thrust one final time, her hips raising up, slamming against mine, shooting us both over the edge.

 

Our bodies one, our souls one, we climax together, our release one in the same.

 

We are complete.

 

She is mine.

 

Always and Forever.

 

Mine and only mine…

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Saying Goodbye

 

I LOVE John’s LOFT. I Love waking up in his loft. I love his bedroom. I love his bathroom. And I LOVE his shower.

 

There is something so sexy about being the only feminine thing in his masculine home. Steam fills the bathroom as I continue to let the hot water beat down on my sexed-sore aching muscles. I feel amazing. I feel satisfied. I feel fulfilled…only John can make me feel this way.

 

Rolling my neck slowly from side to side, I revel in the feel of the hot water washing my sins away. Through the fog, I catch a glimpse of John in the steamy mirror. He is standing in the doorway holding Brady in one hand and a bottle in the other.

 

Never before has he looked sexier, standing there watching me; holding his son against his bare chest; his unbuttoned Levis half-hazardly pulled over his waist; his tousled bed-head hair; his love-bruised lips. It has been so long since I had the chance to look at him as both a lover and a father at the same time – it is such an immense turn-on.

 

Seeing John standing there, sleepy-eyed, with Brady in tow – it is like deja-vu – instantly I am bombarded with memories I had forced myself to lock away for so long – memories of the many nights when the twinners would wake us up at the crack of dawn – full of energy – while we had been up all hours of the night making love – and not so full of energy. My heart swells with love for this man….this man that used to be my husband; this man that I will no doubt love through all eternity…regardless of whether I am married to another.

 

I turn the water off, grabbing a towel to cover myself. “I have visitors!”

 

“Yeah…I thought you might want the honor of feeding this hungry little rascal while I jump in the shower.”

 

“Oh I would love to feed this precious little angel. Come here you!”

 

My heart melts as Brady squirms in his daddy’s arms, reaching out to me with the most adorable grin. Taking Brady and the bottle, I smother him with kisses, eliciting several delicious gurgles and coos. I sit him on the floor while I rummage through John’s drawers, finding an old, faded, cozy pair of baggy jeans and a black t-shirt. I make the bed and pull the comforter up, giggling as I feel Brady’s mouth on my toes.

 

After sprucing up the pillows, I scoop him up and stretch out on the bed with him. I place his bottle into his mouth, whispering adoring words all the while.

 

He spits the nipple out and grins at me.

 

I push the nipple back into his lips and he spits it out again, before gracing me with a sloppy zerbert noise then grinning, obviously proud of himself.

 

Giggling, I reward him with a zerbert of my own.

 

I continue trying to feed him but after ten minutes he still won’t take the bottle.

 

He has the most infectious laugh – I can already tell it is going to be just like his daddy’s.

 

We are both laughing when John walks in from the shower.

 

“John, I don’t think he is hungry.”

 

“What are you kidding me???, he is ALWAYS hungry.”

 

“Well he keeps spitting the bottle out and laughing.”

 

“Well Doc can you blame him? What boy wants to suck on some bottle when they could be lying in bed playing with you instead??”

 

Giggling, I respond. “John that is SOOOO not the reason.”

 

“Oh no??? Care to wager a bet?”

 

“What? We are betting on your son now?”

 

“Just for fun. Look Doc, I know my son. And he is ALWAYS hungry. He is just flirting with you, that’s all.”

 

“He is a baby John. He doens’t know how to flirt yet.”

 

“Okay Dr. Evans…since you’re so smart…Care to put your money where your mouth is?”

 

I reach in John’s baggy jean pockets and only come up with some dryer lint. “I don’t have any money”.

 

I stick out my lower lip, pouting.

 

With his towel still wrapped around his waist, John crawls on to the bed, sandwiching Brady between us, and looks down at his son who only has eyes for me.

 

Brady continues his sloppy zerberts while he plays with my wet hair.

 

“OK What do ya think son? She has no money. What should we wager?

Hmmmm….I know! How about a kiss?”

 

John’s eyes gleam mischeviously.

 

“A kiss, huh??” I grin back. “Ok boys, I think I can handle that.”

 

“Alright son, lets show this bombshell how it’s done.” John takes the bottle and puts it in Brady’s mouth.

 

Brady reaches up, pushing it out before rolling back over to grin at me.

 

I smile victoriously but the victory is short-lived.

 

“No wait a second, he can still see you. Watch this.”

 

Sitting up, John scoops Brady up in his arms and turns his back to me.

 

Peering over Johns shoulder, away from Brady’s watchful big blue eyes, I observe in amazement as John sticks the bottle in Brady’s mouth and he ravenously begins sucking on it like a hungry little cub, slurping down the formula so fast it starts spilling out the sides of his mouth and dripping down his chin.

 

“Easy son, slow down, it isn’t going anywhere…” I can hear the amusement in John’s voice – he loves it when he is right.

 

I am amazed. “My goodness, he was starving!”

 

Looking over his shoulder at me, John is grinning from ear to ear. “Well well well, it looks like Marlena here has just lost a bet….”

 

“John I can’t believe it – I tried anything. He had no interest in that bottle whatsoever. And now he is guzzling it down like he his starving.”

 

“What can I say? He takes after his dad.”

 

“Oh yeah now how’s that?”

 

“He was in bed with you…Food was the last thing on his mind.”

 

Brady finishes up his bottle and I steal him away from John to burp him.

 

While John gets dressed I talk to Brady.”You little booger…you tricked me. You just wanted to play didn’t you?? You are certainly your father’s son.”

 

I can’t help but be distracted by the vision of John dropping his towel and bending over to get some clothes out of his drawer.

 

Dear God, his ass should be illegal.

 

After dressing, John resumes his place on the side of the bed, watching while Brady and I play.

 

“He adores you Doc.”

 

“He’s a baby – he adores anyone who will give him attention honey.”

 

“No with you it is different. He lights up. It is like he craves your attention.”

 

Chuckling, I respond, “Well you said it best – like father, like

son.”

 

“Yeah…speaking of craving your attention, I think you owe somebody a kiss…”

 

“Oh yeah – that’s right, I do…don’t I?”

 

Goading him, I bend over, placing a sweet tender kiss on Brady’s forehead.

 

“What the-”

 

“Now now John you simply said the wager was a kiss; you didn’t say who I was supposed to kiss, now, did you?”

 

“Oh no, that is soooo not fair.”

 

“Oh c’mon John, all’s fair in love and war.”

 

“Oh yeah? Well in that case, I intend to take that kiss that I rightfully earned.” John quickly crawls over Brady and before I know it he is laying on top of me.

 

Straddling me, he grabs my wrists, holding them over my head, as his mouth meets mine in the most tender, loving caress.

 

Within seconds the tenderness fades as I feel his desire pressing against my own. His tongue tangles against mine and my hips instinctively thrust up towards him. I feel his breath come out in a hiss against my tongue. “Whoa baby…”

 

The temperature in the room feels like it must be ninety degrees.

 

I feel ashamed that I let things escalate that fast, with Brady right beside us.

 

“John I am sorry.”

 

“What are you kidding me?? You’re sorry??? Don’t you dare be sorry for the way we are together. EVER.”

 

His blue eyes darken but not just with desire; there is also a hint of anger and possessiveness in his glare.

 

There is an uncomfortable silence.

 

Suddenly I feel sick to my stomach.

 

Maybe it is the sudden realization that I am on my back in John’s bed, with Brady right next to us; or maybe it is the way John seems to be staring straight through me; maybe it is the fact that I haven’t eaten in quite some time; that I am a married woman who hasn’t talked to her husband in days; nor have I talked to my youngest children in days….everything hits me at once, and the room begins to spin.

 

I hear John’s voice from far away asking “Are you ok? Baby what’s wrong?” but I can’t answer him – I frantically push against him, trying to get up – he doesn’t understand, he thinks I am upset. I manage to squeak out the words “I’m gonna be sick” before pushing up against his hard chest one more time.

 

He lifts upwards and I leap off the bed and somehow manage to make it into the bathroom just in time to fall to my knees, hugging the toilet, before vomiting.

 

I can hear John tending to Brady as the next wave of nausea hits me, causing me to wretch violently.

 

Several hurls later, I feel John approaching, sitting behind me.

 

I feel a cool damp cloth being placed on the back of my neck, and John’s quiet tender whispers as he pulls my hair back from my face while I dry heave several times before I manage to vomit the last of any remaining stomach bile into the toilet.

 

John doesn’t talk; he simply sits behind me, holding my hair, placing the wet rag on my forehead then the back of my neck again as we wait for the nausea to pass.

 

Funny, it is moments like this when I am reminded of just how truly intimate and comfortable we are with one another. I cannot think of another living soul that I would allow to hold me in a moment like this.

 

My breathing slows down. Scooting back from the toilet, suddenly exhausted, I fall backwards against John’s waiting arms.

 

Seconds tick by, then minutes before I finally hear John’s voice. “What happened baby?”

 

“I don’t know. I was fine, and then I suddenly felt so sick. Probably something I ate.”

 

“What was the last thing you ate sweetheart?”

 

“I can’t remember.”

 

“Well why don’t you try? You haven’t eaten this morning. What did you eat for dinner last night?”

 

“I don’t remember eating dinner.”

 

“Did you eat lunch?”

 

“No I don’t think I did.”

 

“OK…how about breakfast?”

 

“I am sure I ate breakfast John. I wouldn’t go a whole day without eating. I just can’t remember right now.”

 

I lie to him. I don’t want him to worry. But I know I didn’t eat all day yesterday, and now that I think about it, I don’t think I even ate anything the day before either. In fact, I can’t even remember the last time I ate.

 

“You think you could eat something now baby?” He is being so sweet to me, so tender and gentle. It has been so long since I have had someone take care of me like this.

 

And suddenly, without warning, I am crying.

 

My head falls to my knees. I feel John pulling me into his lap, trying to turn me in towards him but I resist.

 

“John no, don’t.”

 

“Marlena, Look at me.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Baby what is it?”

 

The tears are flowing faster now.

 

“I smell like puke.”

 

“And you think that I care?”

 

“I care…I don’t want you to see me like this.”

 

“The only thing I care about is that you are crying. And I hate to see you cry.”

 

“I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m fine…really. Just let me get cleaned

up….Please.”

 

I feel John’s grip on me loosen. He places a kiss on the top of my head.

 

“OK…I will give you five minutes. I am gonna go find you something to eat and check on Brady. I will be right back…K?

 

“OK.”

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you too.” He squeezes me one last time and then leaves.

 

I get in the shower and clean up. After brushing my teeth and finding a new t-shirt, I feel much better; the nausea now gone.

 

I join him in the kitchen. He hands me a plate with toast and some ice water.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Your welcome….Care to tell me what just happened?”

 

“I’m fine John. Really. I just got queasy – that’s all. I think it is

nerves.”

 

“Yeah…” He doesn’t look very convinced.

 

I can see the worry in his eyes.

 

I take a bite of toast and a sip of water then start to gather my clothes off the floor where we left them last night.

 

He watches me as I gather my things.

 

“Doc, you’re not leaving until I see you eat every bite off that plate and I am convinced that you can keep it down without throwing it back up.”

 

“John would you please stop – I told you I was fine.”

 

“I don’t believe you.” Groaning in frustration, I drop my things on the counter, grab the plate of food, sit on the couch and start eating.

 

I can feel him watching me.

 

It is unsettling.

 

“John – you’re hovering.”

 

“Baby I am worried – that’s all.”

 

“Well there isn’t any reason to be worried. I told you I am fine. Now can we drop it PLEASE??”

 

“Finish your breakfast and I will consider dropping it.”

 

“I will finish my breakfast – then I need to get home.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Why the rush to get home all of a sudden. It isn’t as if anyone is there waiting on you.”

 

His words sting.

 

I look up and he sees the pain in my eyes and immediately regrets his choice of words, quickly joining me on the couch.

 

“I’m sorry Doc. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

 

“Well how exactly did you mean for it to come out?”

 

“I don’t know what I meant to say – I’m just frustrated I guess.”

 

“Yeah well so am I John.”

 

“I just hate to see you rush off to that empty house when I know how it is going to make you feel.”

 

“And you suggest what? I stay here all weekend and play house with you and Brady, then rush off?”

 

The iciness in my tone surprises both me and John.

 

He sighs.

 

He sounds defeated as he runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not suggesting anything Marlena. You do whatever you want.”

 

I watch him as he gets up and walks towards Brady’s room.

 

Quickly swallowing the last of the toast and gulping down the water, I put my dishes in the sink and gather my things again.

 

As I grab my purse and keys, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

 

I hardly recognize myself. With wet hair and swollen lips; no makeup; wearing Johns baggy jeans and a navy blue Salem P.D. t-shirt, I grab my coat. I feel John’s hand on my shoulder as I reach for the door.

 

“Not even gonna say goodbye?”

 

I don’t turn around – I can’t bear to see the look in his eyes.

 

“Well you told me to do what I wanted John – what I want is to go home.”

 

“Do you Doc?” Do you really?”

 

 

“John I have to. The longer I stay here, the harder it is to – ”

 

“To what?”

 

I feel John’s fingertips pressing into my shoulders. I feel his breath on my neck. I swallow hard, trying to keep from crying.

 

“To leave John….The longer I stay here, the harder it is to leave.”

 

“I don’t want you to leave…not like this Doc. I feel like you’re angry with me.”

 

“I’m not angry with you John.”

 

“I just don’t understand – everything was fine. We were having a great time and then all of a sudden – it’s like you’re a different person. Just tell me what I did to upset you.”

 

“You didn’t upset me John. It’s just…”

 

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my composure.

 

“I can’t stay here any more. I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have a house – a home – a husband.”

 

I feel John’s fingertips dig deeper into my shoulder.

 

“A husband that doesn’t even care to come home to you.”

 

“Dammit John why do you keep doing that?? You don’t have to keep reminding me of the current state of my marriage. It isn’t as if I am not all too aware that I have a husband who would rather be anywhere in the world than at home with me.”

 

“So why the rush? You don’t have to try to sneak off without so much as a goodbye.”

 

“Goodbye John.”

 

His voice is barely above a whisper. “Turn around and look at me when you say goodbye to me.”

 

I feel my voice crack as I try to get my words out and speak before I lose all coherency.

 

“I can’t do that John.”

 

“Please…” His voice caresses me as I feel his hot breath in my ear. It sends a rush of warmth straight through me; seducing me; like a spider pulling me into his web.

 

My head drops down against the door.

 

John, never one to miss a beat, immediately senses my submission.

 

I feel his arms on either side of me; his hands press against the door; trapping me as he presses himself into me.

 

The contact instantly elicits a moan from both of is.

 

His mouth immediately goes to that spot on my neck because he knows that will break down any remaining shreds of resistance; any last minute protests I might have.

 

He knows me too well.

 

I hear myself groan as his smooth wet tongue slides from my neck to that special spot right below my ear.

 

“God John…”

 

“Still want to leave?”

 

He shifts his hips forward and his fully erect desire presses against me.

 

I feel my body begin to betray me; begging me to give in to John’s assault on my senses.

 

Shaking, my hands drop my belongings. I hear my purse, shoes, and keys hit the floor.

 

My raspy voice echoes through the loft as I ask one simple question before giving in completely “Is Brady asleep?”

 

John knows he has won.

 

He growls the word “Yes” against my neck before beginning to suck the tender skin into his mouth.

 

Placing my open palms against the cold metal door, I brace myself.

 

John’s hands find my waist as his hands slide under my tshirt, wasting little time as his fingers quickly find my nipples.

 

His breathing is erratic – he groans in approval when my nipples harden instantly under his touch.

 

“God baby, they’re so hard…”

 

His hips grind against my ass. I bite my lip, the metallic taste of blood on my tongue.

 

His hands squeeze my breasts tightly before venturing to my hips, then the button on my jeans.

 

He pushes me closer against the door, his hips pressing into me firmly.

 

He is on fire.

 

His hands are frantically pulling my pants down as I feel the weight of his head on my shoulder.

 

His voice comes out in a whimper.

 

“I want you so badly baby.” I recognize this side of him….the out of control side to my lover – the side that he shows me only when he is totally and completely weak with desire.

 

There will be no tenderness this time – I cannot say that I am disappointed.

 

I want him to be wild – I want him to be weak -trembling from the sheer power of his arousal.

 

I need to know that I am not the only one that feels like that.

 

I need to know I am not alone.

 

When his hands roughly jerk my pants down my legs and he almost cries with sheer delight – I know I am not alone.

 

My thighs are shaking when his hands finally find them.

 

I feel his impatient fingertips at my centre, parting my lips as one hard rigid finger slides straight into my wet core.

 

My knees buckle.

 

I feel his hand leave my breast to wrap around my waist, holding me upright; his other hand stays exactly where it is as his finger slides deeper inside me.

 

“Shit John” I somehow manage to mumble as I reach up with one hand, trying to find something stable to hold on to – my hand finds the doorknob and my fingers wrap around it, gripping it for dear life.

 

I hear his whimper in my ear.

 

“God baby, I’m sorry – I can’t – I can’t wait – I’m sorry I’m so-” he mumbles.

 

He is apologizing for his impatience, his lack of control.

 

What he doesn’t realize is that his loss of control is the only thing that makes me feel normal; his wild mad desire makes my irrational decisions seem sane.

 

When he is out of control – it doesn’t make me feel so bad; so guilty for being out of control too.

 

I welcome his loss of control – I feed off of it.

 

I am panting when I turn my head to the side and try to verbalize my thoughts which seems damn near impossible when his finger is sliding in and out of me.

“Stop apologizing and just—”

 

I hear him suck in his breath with anticipation – he knows what I am about to ask – he has always loved the fact that he has the ability to strip the prim and properness away and reduce me to using words some would call vulgar and disgraceful. Normally I would call them that – except for when I am with John. With John all rules and regulations fly out the window….any sense of decorum disintegrates into thin air…and I am left naked begging him; whispering those vulgar and disgraceful words unabashed; unashamed as I ask him to please me with every choice and colorful word I can think of.

 

He is holding his breath – I know he is waiting for me to finish my sentence.

 

His finger comes to a standstill as he waits for me to resort to the lovers language he is craving to speak.

 

I do not disappoint him.

 

“Stop apologizing and just fuck me John.”

 

My voice sounds raspy and hoarse as it echos through the room.

 

He growls with pleasure, his finger thrusting into me hard while his other hand reaches for his belt buckle, frantically pulling at it and his button and fly.

 

I hear the sound of his jeans landing on the floor only seconds before I feel his naked skin against my own.

 

His body is hot, his skin already damp with sweat.

 

He is panting when I hear the rumble of his voice against my back.

 

“Like this??? Is this what you want baby?”

 

He slow winds his hips against me, his pelvic bones pushing upwards, taunting me.

 

My heart is racing, my palms now sweating as they slide down the door I was using as leverage.

 

My tongue is thick as I answer him.

 

“You know what I want John….You know what I want and where I want it.”

 

My hoarse whisper elicits a loud groan from deep within him.

 

“Dammit Marlena…you make me so fuckin hot baby.”

 

“I want you inside me John…….pleeeeaasse…”

 

I am whimpering now.

 

We are both so close – so hot – so wet with desire. I literally ache – I throb for him. My legs quiver and my knees buckly up under me.

 

“John I can’t – I can’t stand up…Honey Please.”

 

The desperation in my plea doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

I feel John’s hands on my hips as he effortlessly picks me up and pushes me in front of his desk.

 

His hands jerk my t-shirt off before I feel his palm on my back, pushing me forward.

 

As my hands grip the desk, his fingers dig into my waist while his other hand positions himself behind me.

 

I feel the tip of him graze against my centre and I am lost.

 

I fall forward, bending at the waist, spreading my legs to open myself completely to him.

 

The sight of me bent over his desk, naked and spread eagle before him is John’s undoing.

 

He cries against my hair. “Fuck…baby…”

 

And then the wait is over.

 

He is inside me, his long hard pulsating sheath feels like fire as he pushes forward, driving his rod all the way though me.

 

This isn’t going to take very long.

 

I push back against him with all my might, hearing him growl with delight as he bites down on my neck.

 

Holding my hips, he pounds into me again and again, fueling the fire that only he can feed.

 

Our breathing ragged, our words rambling, we egg each other on, racing towards completion as our bodies move to their own rhythym, a pattern we perfected years ago.

 

The pressure builds to a frenzy; I want him with me when I explode.

 

I squeeze my inner walls tightly as he buries himself to the hilt inside me again and again.

 

“John…..hurry…..”

 

“I need to see you baby…I need to see you when you cum for me.”

 

John grabs my hips, quickly pulling out of me before turning me around.

 

I feel his hands under my ass as he lifts me up onto the desk. My legs wrap tightly around him, squeezing him, urging him to reenter me.

 

He wastes no time.

 

My eyes search for his only to find them looking down; his mouth open and his eyes gleaming with wonder as he watches himself enter me.

 

When his eyes look back up they lock onto mine.

 

He wants me to watch.

 

Our foreheads together, we both look down between us as our bodies become one.

 

Staring down, I watch as he thrusts into me several times until I can’t take it anymore.

 

It is almost too painful to hold it out any longer.

 

“God John, I need to….” His blue eyes reek of desire as he looks up, and finds me staring back at him.

 

“What baby?…You need to what?…Say it for me Marlena.”

 

As he thrusts in and out, my ankles lock tightly around his ass and I pull him tightly against me.

 

“I need to cum Johh…Please…make me cum for you…”

 

Johns eyes roll back into his head as he pounds mercilessly against me, and together we climax hard, crying aloud as we ride the wave of our beautiful orgasm together.

 

**************

 

For fifteen minutes we stand there, neither of us wanting to let this one go. Our breath and heartbeats slowly return to normal.

 

John lifts me off the desk and stands me up; my knees wobble. He holds me while I regain my composure.

 

Slowly, I bend down and pick up the shirt and cover myself before walking over to the door to pull the jeans up and over my body.

 

I turn to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever. But when I look into his eyes, I am grateful to see he looks just as vulnerable as I feel.

 

It is humbling – this desire – this insatiable hunger that we feel for one another.

“John it’s almost noon. I need to get home.”

 

“I know, baby”

 

His eyes look so sad.

 

Standing on my tiptoe, I place a gentle tender kiss on his lips.

 

He smiles. “I love you Marlena.”

 

“Bye John.”

 

I regather my things again and this time I manage to make it out the door.

 

Barefoot, I walk to my car, open the door, climb in and drive away without ever looking back.

 

If I look back, I know I will change my mind.

 

If I look back, I know I will stop the car, and go running back inside to the safe confines of his loft, where I will be showered with his and Brady’s unabashed love.

 

If I were to look back, I don’t think I could ever leave him again.

 

So I drive away, eyes straight ahead, never looking back as I carry myself home, and away from the only real home that my heart has ever known…

 

 

Chapter 6

 

The Princess and The Pub

 

——————————————————————————–

 

My house reeks of Marlena.

 

Even though she left over an hour ago – her smell, her essence still lingers thickly throughout the loft. I breathe in deeply, welcoming the smell – reveling in it.

 

I go into my bathroom – my shower smells like her.

 

I stand in my bedroom staring down at my bed – the rumpled sheets smell like her.

 

I sit down on the couch in the den – the couch smells like her.

 

I cannot get her out of my head – like a man obsessed.

 

I pace the floor like a caged animal. Everytime I am with her I think it will sate me – it only leaves me wanting more. Part of me wonders if this is what it would feel like to be a vampire – I want to devour her whole.

 

My mind races…wondering what she is doing, what she is thinking, what she is

wearing….what she is NOT WEARING.

 

Purposely I avoid the mess we created on my desk. I leave the papers and files scattered halfhazardly amongst the desk and all over the floor. I don’t want to clean up the mess – I don’t want to wipe the memory away. I want the images burned in my brain – I want the sounds recorded in my head – the sounds of her impatient whimpers, her guttural pleas of pleasure, her erotic screams of ecstasy. I play them over and over again, reliving them in my mind.

 

I know that I have to stop this.

 

I know that we have to stop this.

 

But I don’t want to.

 

Not yet.

 

I haven’t had enough. I am like a man possessed.

 

Deep down, I know I will never stop this – I will never let her go. It would be like letting go of half of my soul.

 

Brady’s cries pull me out of my stroll down memory lane. He is up from his nap. When I bring him into the den, he whimpers slightly. His head turns to and fro, his eyes scanning the room. My heart breaks in two. He is looking for Marlena. I tell him she had to go home and immediately sense the disappointment in his eyes. “I know slugger – I wish she was here too…”.

 

After changing Brady and feeding him, I decide we both should get out of the house. It is too silent….too lonely…too empty.

 

So we head to the Pub looking for some good company.

 

And that is exactly what we find.

 

As we enter the Pub, I am immediately aware that Brady and I aren’t the only ones trying to escape the loneliness and silence of an empty house.

 

I don’t even see her – I don’t even have to. I know she is here. It is that sixth sense we share. After closing the door behind me, my head turns forward directly at the same time that her head looks up towards he door – our eyes lock. She is sitting at a table with Hope near the bar. They are chatting with Caroline who is standing at the table serving them coffee. No doubt she felt my presence the same way I felt hers. She knew the second I entered the room. I smile politely and she smiles back – motioning for Brady and I to come over. As I approach the table we greet each other politely, behaving like any two friends would behave. As I watch Hope, Caroline and Marlena fight over who gets to hold Brady first, it becomes all too apparent who will win this little

contest. Brady’s hands instantly reach for Marlena as he does his best to squirm out of Caroline’s embrace. Marlena’s laughter bubbles up so spontaneously and her eyes sparkle with pride, a look I distinctly remember her reserving for the twinners when we were married. It warms my heart. Brady places a sloppy wet kiss on her face before instinctively reaching for her wrist to play with his favorite toy – the charm bracelet I gave her. After heading to the bar to grab a beer, I take a seat next to Hope, across from Marlena and Brady.

 

As I engage in casual conversation with Hope, I watch out of the corner of my eye as Marlena gets up and carries Brady to the bar, returning with a cup of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. I force myself not to be too obvious as I stare at the way her black jeans hug her tight ass so sweetly, or the way her fitted red cashmere sweater molds perfectly against her round breast and flat stomach. When she returns, I continue talking to Hope while Marlena feeds Brady hot chocolate and whipped cream from her finger, dipping her finger in the cup of hot chocolate, blowing on it to cool it off before scooping some whip cream off the top of the cup then letting Brady suck her finger clean.

 

I am a sick man – I find it arousing. But why should this shock me – everything she does arouses me.

 

Hope attempts to pry Brady from Marlena’s lap, but he isn’t having it. He has a limited vocabulary which consists of the words “No”, Ball”, and “More”. He quickly chooses the first word, adamently telling Hope “No!” before holding on to Marlena for dear life.

 

We all laugh. Marlena’s eyes sparkle with happiness. She loves my son as much as he loves her – it is obvious. She seems so comfortable, so relaxed, so at-ease with Brady snuggled up in her arms. It is refreshing to see her this way.

 

I marvel at Marlena’s ability to behave so civil, so proper, so polite.

 

No one watching us would ever guess that mere hours ago she was bent over my desk in the throes of passion.

 

No one would ever guess the things she can do to me with her hands….with her mouth…with her body.

 

No one would ever guess the sounds…or even more so the words that come out of

her mouth when I am arousing her.

 

No one would ever guess – not even her husband. Especially not her husband.

 

Marlena suddenly looks up at me as if she can hear what I am thinking about. It’s that sixth sense again. She blushes and averts her eyes, quickly focusing on something – on anything but me. She knows exactly what I was doing – she knows that behind my polite smile and calm demeanor, I was undressing her with my eyes.

 

Hope finally manages to coax Brady away from Marlena using whipped cream as bait, and quickly leaves us alone at the table before Brady changes his mind and decides he wants to return to the safe confines of Marlena’s lap.

 

Hell I can’t blame the kid – Marlena’s lap has always been my favorite place too.

 

Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts of her lap.

 

“John stop doing that.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“You know what I am talking about .” She is smiling politely as she speaks so me so that anyone who might be watching would think we were engaging in casual chitchat. But her eyes flash a spark of anger that only I would recognize.

 

“I have no idea what you are talking about Marlena.” I smile and play dumb.

 

“Don’t make me get angry John. You know what I am referring to. And I mean for you to stop it right this second.” She flashes another polite smile and takes a sip of her coffee.

 

I take a swig of my beer. And reciprocate her polite smile as I casually respond to her anger. Leaning in closer over the table, I point towards the wall behind us, as if I am discussing a picture hanging on it.

 

“Are you referring to the fact that I am imagining pinning you up against that wall over there, ripping that red cashmere sweater off of you, taking those black jeans – which look sexy as hell on you by the way – and stripping them down your waist, burying my face in your tits, and having my way with you?” I take another swig of my beer and grin smugly. “Is that what you are referring to?”

 

She is speechless. Her mouth has dropped wide open in shock. The color of crimson red spreads from her cheeks down her neck. Her eyes darken with anger mixed with desire. She tries to speak but nothing comes out. Clearing her throat, I watch her slowly pour herself a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table as she tries to regain her composure.

 

I am grinning from ear to ear – I can’t help it – I loved getting her all riled up. I love seeing her lose her composure. Maybe it is because I secretly revel in the fact that I am the only one that can make her lose that composure. I know I am playing with fire, but she is so damn hot when she’s mad – teetering between anger and arousal. God I love this woman.

 

Finally she speaks. “Well you look awfully proud of yourself.” Her voice sounds raspy, and I know my little description of taking her up against the wall has affected her more than she would like to admit.

 

Still smiling, I tread lightly, not wanting to push her away. “I’m sorry, Doc. That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said those things….at least not in public….” My blue eyes lock in on her hazel eyes and I immediately notice a playful gleam in her eyes…certainly the last thing I expected to see.

 

“No John you shouldn’t. That was very crude. And I must advise you – you play with fire, you just might get burned.”

 

She is confusing me. Her voice is calm, cool, and collected but I can see her eyes calculating, as she does a brief glance around the Pub before reaching across the table towards the ice pitcher.

 

For all outward appearances, this proper polite well-respected doctor is pouring a friend a glass of ice-water.

 

And with no one the wiser, while she pours me a glass of ice water and talks about the weather, this prim and proper professional married woman’s foot slides up my calf and nestles right in my crotch….her toes brushing against me with just the right amount of pressure to instantly cause my dick to stand at attention. Paranoid, I quickly look around the room and scoot my chair closer under the table to ensure no one sees just what this devilish little minx is capable of. Her foot begins a slow rub back and forth across my bulging erection as she smiles politely and hands me the glass of water she so

graciously poured for me. My hands grip the table and I know she has to stop this torture soon. I grab her hand and look her dead in the eyes.

 

“Marlena this isn’t funny anymore. Stop this now.”

 

“Oh c’mon Mr. Black – all’s fair and love and war, right. And after all, you started it. It’s only fair that I get to finish it.”

 

Her foot continues to rub back and forth across my dick as I squeeze harder onto the table, saying a silent prayer of thanks for the long tablecloths that reach all the way to the floor. I feel the sweat beads collecting on my forehead as my temperature and blood pressure skyrocket.

 

Innocently and sweetly, she rubs her foot up and down my length as she pushes the glass of water towards me. “John, you look hot dear…why don’t you take a sip of water??”. She bats her eyes innocently, and saitisfied with the punishment she has bestowed upon me, she removes her foot from my crotch. I stare at her in frustration.

 

“Paybacks a bitch, isn’t it??” And she laughs, the delicious sound echoing through the Pub, forcing me to fake a laugh as well so that it seems that I have just said something particularly amusing. She reaches under the table, no doubt slipping her shoe back on, then politely smiles as she places her hand over mine – which is still clutching the table. “Dear friend, let that be a lesson to you – when we are in public, do not undress me with your eyes, and do not attempt to arouse me with descriptions of what you would like to do to me….Understand?”

 

I clear my throat, and simply nod, dumbfounded, still in amazement at how close she came to giving me a complete foot job underneath the table at the Brady Pub with friends and family all around.

 

“Good John, I am glad we got that straightened out.” She pats my hand and winks before getting up to leave.

 

Sitting at the table, I look up at the football game playing on the screen; willling my dick to go back down. I know that I look a little strange sitting alone at the table but I am stuck here, so I grab a menu, and start debating on what to order to eat.

 

I hear Brady whining and can’t help but grin when I notice his distress is due to the fact that Marlena is in his eyeline. She immediately hears him crying and turns towards his outstretched arms, scooping him up and kissing away his tears. I find it strangely ironic that my son is just as drawn to her as I always have been. He is only a baby but instinctively he knows – she is his safe place…just as she is mine. He buries his head in her hair and she shushes him, patting him on the back, intuitively knowing he is sleepy. I watch her as she finds a dark corner in the Pub, and sways to and fro as she spftly pats his bottom. I can see her mouth moving and have no boubt she is seeing “You are My Sunshine” to him; just like she always did with the twins.

 

And in less than two seconds flat, he is completely passed out. She is a miracle worker. I would have never in a million years been able to get him to sleep in a crowded noisy public place that fast – hell, I can’t even get him to sleep in our own home without it taking at least an hour. I watch her walk over to Caroline and whisper something before disappearing upstairs with him.

 

I grab his bag and follow shortly after. I know there is no pint in me helping her – I know she is perfectly capable of laying him in a crib – I know she has verything under control – I know all this. But I follow her anyway – just another lame excuse to be alone in her presence. What can I say? I am addicted to her.

 

I creep up the steps and peer into the bedroom that Sean and Caroline have reserved for all of their grandchildren. Closing the door behind me, I ease up behind her as she leans over the crib. She senses my presence but continues tucking him in before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. “John you shouldn’t…we shouldn’t be in here together.” Standing behind her, I place my hands on her hips. I hear her that adorable sexy little catch in her breath – God I love that sound. She quickly removes my hands from her waist and slips between me and the crib, heading to the farthest corner in the room. “Relax Marlena, I didn’t come up here to ravish you in the nearest closet

– I just came to bring Brady’s bag up here – I thought you might need it.”. She looks down, a bit embarassed.

 

“Oh…I’m sorry then.” I slowly approach her, cornering her.

 

“Unless of course you Wanted me to take you in the nearest closet and-” She pushes her hands against my chest.

 

“John please – not here.” Her breathing is shallow. Her cheeks are flushed. Her words tell me one thing – her body another. I know I could have her – I would love nothing more than to have her. But I am not going to push her. I am letting her have the control she needs right now – she wants me on her terms. And as hard as it is not to press my self against her and catch her hot wet lips in mine – I don’t. I take two steps back.

 

She looks up at me in shock – no doubt she was expecting me to put up more of a fight. And I am pleased to see a little disappointment in those beautiful sulty hazel eyes. “Thank you John.” She looks down, ashamed at the way her body betrays her when she is alone with me. I feel sad – I never meant for her to feel shame.

 

She walks towards the door and before she opens the door, I come up behind her,

 

trapping her against it – just like I did in the loft this morning when she tried to leave. It feels like dejavu. Her breath catches again. I whisper sweetly in her ear. “Don’t be ashamed baby. I want you just as badly you want me. I am just trying to honor your wishes.”

 

She nods, unable to speak. I can tell she is on the verge of tears.

 

“Baby what is it?” She nods her head no, afraid to speak, afraid of letting go and losing the thin shred of control she has over breaking down into tears. “You don’t want to tell me because you don’t want to start crying, is that it?” She nods. “But you are ok, right?” She nods again. “Can we talk about this later sweetheart?” She nods again. “OK, I’m gonna hold you to that. Love you.” She nods again and hurries out of the room.

 

I turn around to take one last look at Brady sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face. I lean over to kiss him and am assaulted with the smell of Marlena’s shampoo on his soft face. No wonder he is smiling…I dim the lights, use the restroom, and head downstairs. Bo has arrived to catch the second half of the football game. He and Hope are clowning around at the table while Marlena giggles at their antics.

 

I join them at the table, takingn the only empty seat next to Marlena while Bo orders a round of beers. The table is small for four people, and try as I might, I can’t keep my thigh from brushing against Marlena’s. I notice Marlena isn’t drinking her beer. “Doc, would you like me to get you a glass of wine?”

 

“No thank you John. I am fine.”

 

“How about some lunch – have you eaten anything.”

 

“No I haven’t.”

 

“You must be starved – lemme get you some chowder.” And then I watch as it happens again. The color drains from her face, her eyes lock onto mine, and I know – she is about to be sick again – within seconds. I subtly but quickly get up and pull her chair out and watch as she runs upstairs for a private bathroom. Bo still staring at the screen never notices a thing. But Hope did. “John is Marlena ok?”

 

I reassure her. “She said something a little earlier about hoping she wasnt coming down with something – feeling a little queasy. She was worried about getting Brady sick or something. Of course I told her she was fine – probably just nerves.”

 

Hope smiles understandingly. “Yeah she’s been through a lot lately. And I know she is working like crazy – and missing the kids. She mentioned to me about not sleeping well either. Probably just nerves. I think I will check on her – all the same” As Hope leaves the table, Bo suddenly pipes in. “Well who the hell who could blame Marlena for having nerves and not sleeping with the way my brother has been acting lately.”

 

I am smart enough to know that Bo normallly wouldn’t offer any provate information on Roman but I also know Bo well enough to know that he has finished off a pitcher of beer in less than thirty minutes and is probably having a little case of diarhea of the mouth. I don’t want to push Bo but I want to find out just exactly what is going on in Roman’s head – so I use a little of the reverse psychology tactics that I learned from Marlena and try defending Roman – just to see what Bo willl say. I also pour him another glass of beer.

 

“Come on, Bo, you can’t really blame Roman for being out of sorts – he has been through a helluva lot lately.”

 

“And who the hell hasn’t John?? I mean, you and Marlena almost died in an underground explosion. You lost your wife and were left to pick up the pieces with a newborn child. Marlena spent years in captivity only to rush home to you and the kids and find out you weren’t Roman. So she lost a husband and gained a new one – the twins lost the only father they ever knew, only to gain a new father who thinks they are better off in Colorado. I mean the whole thing is fucked up if you ask me.”

 

“Yeah I know the whole thing is fucked up Bo. But I also know that everybody has their own way of dealing with things. Maybe Roman’s is just different – we can’t judge him for that.”

 

“You’re damn right I can judge him – I mean shit John – it would be different if he was dealing with things. He isn’t dealing with anything. He doesn’t deal with his children. He doesn’t deal with his wife. He doesn’t think there is anything to deal with – he just prances right back into Salem and does whatever the hell he wants to do whenever the hell he wants to do it. And everyone is expected to feel sorry for ‘Poor Roman’ and I just don’t get it. I mean hell John – he sent his kids away – his own kids!”

 

“I thought Sammi and Eric chose to go to Colorado.”

 

“At Romans persuasion….He asked them if they wanted to go since they seemed so unhappy here. Eric asked if they could just stay with you for a while – but of course that infuriated Roman. He told them that would be a terrible idea with the new baby and Isabella’s death. So they told Marlena they wanted to go stay with their grandparents.”

 

“You mean Marlena didn’t know Roman talked to the kids alone about it?” I can feel my blood boiling as Bo continues.

 

“Hell no – do you honestly believe Marlena would ever suggest they go away – she is a psychiatrist for Gods sake – and a mother – she would never send her kids away – she thought they wanted to go away. She thought they were miserable here….and they were unhappy – but it isn’t anything Marlena couldnt have helped them through. I just don’t understand where the hell Romans head is right now.” I pour Bo yet another beer.

 

“So Roman told you all this? Did he tell you why he sent the twinners away?”

 

“Yeah at the time he said it was to give him time to reconnect with Marlena. That something was missing – the spark wasn’t there. He thought they could use some time to connect as husband and wife before trying to reconnect as a husband, wife, and the twins. But I don’t buy that load of bullshit. I mean, he is asking, begging for stakeouts, undercover missions, anything to keep him at work. And when he isnt at work he is out on a weekend fishing trip. Hell I think he is even talking to Shane about getting back in with the ISA overseas.”

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me Bo!! Marlena – that would devastate her! You know how she feels about the ISA.”

 

“Yeah the same way Hope feels about it – and Kayla – and Kimberly – and Mom.”

 

Before I can get any more information out of Roman, Hope returns to the table.

I stand up. “How is she?”

 

“OK I guess. She wouldnt open the door – just said she was feeling a little under the weather. Asked me to check in on Brady and told me she would be down in a sec. Brady’s fine by the way.”

 

“She wouldn’t let you in the bathroom”

 

“Well Marlena is like me John – her pride comes first – she doesnt want someone else seeing her hurl over the toilet.”

 

“Right….Well I am gonna go check on her all the same.”

 

“John I doubt she will let you in.”

 

“Then I’ll pick the lock Hope. We were married at one time ya know – I have seen her sick plenty of times.”

 

 

*****

 

Upstairs, I tap lightly on the bathroom door. “You ok Doc?”

 

“Ummm-hmmm”.

 

“Unlock the door.”

 

“I’m fine John.”

 

“Unlock the door or I’ll pick the lock Marlena.” I hear the click of the lock and let myself in. My heart breaks for her. She is on the floor, her head over the toilet, tears streaming down her face. She looks utterly humiliated. Grabbing a bathclothe and wetting it, I sit down behind her for the

 

second time today, and clean her tear-stained face. She seems weak; she doesn’t even put up a fight this time around. She just falls into my arms. “John I’m sorry. I don’t know whats wrong with me.”

 

“Its nerves baby. You miss your kids, you miss your husband, you miss me, you have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now. You have to stop this. You have to start taking better care of yourself. You have to start putting yourself first for a change.”

 

Her voice cracks and the tears start to fall. “I don’t know how to do that anymore John.” I wrap my arms around her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Well I have a few ideas. But I don’t want you to cry. We’ll talk about them later. After you have calmed down some. Lets get you cleaned up –

 

I”m gonna take you home.”

 

“No not home. I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to be by myself right now.”

 

“I meant my home. I am gonna take you to my home, get you cleaned up and get some food in your stomache, and then we are gonna talk….just talk. Does that sound ok?” She looks up at me with those sad vulnerable eyes, and with all the trust in the world, she simply nods her head and smiles. “That sounds nice.” I place another kiss on her forehead before standing up. “OK I am gonna go check on Brady and tell Hope and Caroline that you aren’t feeling well and that I’m gonna drive you home ok? Be right back baby.”

 

I go to check on Brady and Caroline is already in there. “Still sacked out?”

 

“Yes he is – he must have been pretty tired.”

 

“Yeah he is cutting some teeth and not getting much sleep at night so I think he is trying to catch up during the day.”

 

“How is Marlena?”

 

“She isn’t feeling too well.”

 

“Well she has a lot on her lately.”

 

“Yeah she does”

 

“Thank You John. For being there for her – for being such a good friend. I don’t know where Roman’s head is right now – I am just glad she has someone like you to look out for her.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me Caroline. Marlena has been there for me through thick and thin. It is only natural that I would do the same for her.”

 

“You’re a good man John Black.”

 

“Well thank you Caroline. I am gonna drive Marlena home and get her settled in. I was just gonna leave her car here – I’ll have someone pick it up later if she isn’t feeling up to it.”

 

“Why don’t you leave Brady here? No sense waking him up.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Of course I’m sure. I’ll call you if I need anything. And just make sure Marlena is taken care of – Roman and Shawn wont be back until late tomorrow evening and I hate to think of her in that house alone if it wasn’t just nerves and she has the flu or something.”

 

“I think she is fine but don’t you worry – I will make sure she is ok before I leave her. And I will make sure to check on her. I’ll be back after while to get Brady ok?”

 

“Ok. Thanks again John.”

 

I can’t help but feel guilty – she is thanking me for taking such good care of her son’s wife – she has no idea just how well I am taking care of her daughter-in-law.

 

After gathering Marlenas coat and purse, I head back upstairs to Marlena and find her peeking in on Brady. “Still sleeping huh?”

 

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave him here – he is obviously worn out. C’mon, lets head out the back.” We get in my car and head to the loft.

 

*****************

 

While Marlena showers, I change the sheets and make up the bed, and leave out a pair of sweats and a tshirt, then fix her some toast. I carry the tray of food to the bedroom and watch as she changes into the clothes I left out.

 

I try not to notice how sexy she looks in my clothes. I pat the bed and she sits indian style on the bed – I watch in silence as she dives into the plate of toast and fruit, before chugging down the ice water then sipping on the hot tea. The color in her cheeks is coming back – she doesn’t look so pale.

 

Smiling up at me, she says “You always did know how to treat me like a princess.”

 

I motion for her to lie down on the bed. “I think it is time for this princess to get some rest.” Taking the tray, I move it the bedside table.

 

She lies back, staring up at me with those hypnotic eyes. “What if this princess doesnt want to rest?” She grabs my tshirt, pulling me towards her. Her lips graze mine ever so softly.

 

“Honey, c’mon you know that you need some sleep.” Her lips graze mine again before moving towards my ear and whispering seductively,

 

“So why don’t you help me get to sleep?” I pull away, knowing if I let her get any farther with this seduction, I will be pounding away on her within seconds.

 

“Marlena, I told you I wanted to bring you here to get you fed, rested, and to talk. I know you are exhausted. I am not about to to wear you out anymore than you already are. Please try to get some sleep baby” And just as I am about to leave the bedroom, I watch as she pulls her tshirt off and throws it against my face.

 

Standing still, unable to move, I watch as she slides the sweatpants slowly down her hips and over her legs, dropping them on the floor bed side the bed. And lying on my bed, completely naked in all her exquisite glory, she stares directly at the bulge in my jeans, licking her lips. “Get over here big boy and give your princess the royal treatment she is asking for.”

 

Well so much for getting her to rest. I practically rip my jeans and boxers down to my ankles and stumble across the floor, ripping my shirt off as I land on the bed. And within seconds, her hands are on my dick, caressing me like only she knows how to do. Her tongue traces my lips before capturing my tongue in her mouth and sucking on it. My finger is inside her and she is so wet, so hot, as I thrust in and out. She is already ready – I can feel it.

 

“Oh God ,John.” I suck on one nipple then move to the other while my finger continues to thrust inside her and my thumb flicks up and down across her clit. “Oh shit John – not yet – I want you inside me.”

 

“Oh don’t you worry Marlena, I have every intention of cumming inside you. After I watch you cum in my mouth.”

 

She moans loudly and I know that my choice of words are arousing her just as much as my fingers and thumb.

 

Grabbing her thighs, I lift them over my shoulders, quickly replacing my tongue with my thumb, flicking it back and forth, then side to side as I slide a second finger inside her tight womb. I know she is right there, on the verge of release.

 

Instinctively she covers her mouth with her hand to keep quiet. Reaching up I jerk her hand away. “It’s ok baby – it’s just us. No one can hear you but me. Let me hear you.” And as I feel her start to quiver, I move my mouth lower, sucking, pulling her juices out. And as I lift my eyes up to watch, she cums in my mouth with a fury. Wasting no time, I plunge into her immediately as she bites down hard on my shoulder. And within seconds , before she has even come down from her first orgasm, she is cumming again, her walls squeezing me so tightly that I immediately join her, sharing one hell of a spine-shattering orgasm. Laying atop her, I wait for her breathing to slow down, then pull out because I can already feel myself growing hard inside her yet again. I scoot over and turn her on her side, spooning her as I softly run my fingers down my back.

 

And finally, my princess falls asleep, with one very satisfied smile on her face.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 7

 

‘ TO TALK – OR NOT TO TALK – THAT IS THE QUESTION’

 

Her eyelids slowly begin to flutter, as she drifts in and out of her heavy slumber. I watch as she stretches her languid limbs and her eyes flutter again. Watching her wake up was always a favorite pastime of mine.

 

Some things never change.

 

As she slowly awakens, I can tell she is confused at first, unsure of where he is. Then her eyes open fully and she focuses those heavenly hazels on me, sitting in the chair across the room from her.

 

And she smiles….Dear God what that smile can do to me – she renders me powerless with it…which is exactly why I chose to sit in the chair instead of lying in bed with her while she slept.

 

I know better than that.

 

I know better than to think that for one moment I could trust myself to let her sleep without letting my basic instincts take over.

 

I know better than to think that Marlena and I can EVER be in bed together without being naked and blinded by passion.

 

I know better than to think that her need for rest and relaxation outweighs the need to sate the unquenchable thirsts our bodies share for one another.

 

I know better…..

 

And so I wisely chose to sit in the chair and watch my princess sleep from afar.

 

And my plan was working perfectly…That is, until she awakened and smiled at me…her heavy-lidded eyes begging me to join her in my bed.

 

“What are you doing over there?” Her voice is raspy, husky with sleep.

 

“Well…I WAS watching you sleep.” Her bedroom eyes are like magnets, pulling me towards the bed. Treading cautiously, I walk over to the edge of the bed and sit, careful not to get to close to her.

 

“Well I’m not sleeping anymore.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, I attempt to maintain some distance – knowing if I get too close – it’s all over.

 

“Oh I am well aware of that Marlena.”

 

And in the blink of an eye she starts crawling towards me like a cat, seducing me with every movement she makes, licking her lips as her eyes zone in on my crotch.

 

“Yes I can see that, big boy.” I grab hold of her wrists, stopping her from crawling any closer, as I ease off the bed. Her lips form into a pout. She doesn’t like it when I try to resist her.

 

“Marlena c’mon baby, I want us to talk.”

 

“We can talk….” She eases her wrists out of my grasps and before I know it she is straddling me.

 

“What would you like to talk about, John??”

 

And before I know what is happening her ankles are locked together behind my back as her tongue darts behind my ear, instantaneously causing my hips to grind upwards against hers, eliciting a throaty growl from her mouth.

 

Reaching behind me, I make one last-minute futile attempt to resist, trying to unlock her ankles from behind my back; which is downright impossible considering the slow wind her hips have begun against my own.

 

“Honey please; we were just going to talk; remember? Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

 

“Oh baby I don’t think that’s possible….to make it any ‘harder’ – that is…” And she giggles as her fingers grab hold of my hair, pulling my head back and sucking hard on my neck.

 

And that is the last thing I remember before losing any and all control.

 

My hands grab hold of her hips, jerking her hard against me, the sudden almost violent change in my demeanor causing her to gasp in shock.

 

Grabbing hold of the neckline of her shirt, I rip it in to pieces, eliciting another gasp from her. “Is this what you want baby?” She whimpers in response.

 

She has done it it again…unleashed my animal. Regardless of my good intentions, I have lost all rational coherent thought – blinded by one imperative mission – to possess her; to unleash her animal; to mate with my soulmate.

 

Fabric flies as I rid her of her clothes, ripping her shirt to shreds while her hands, fingers, mouth, and tongue grab, squeeze, bite, and suck frantically.

 

Desperation, impatience, and wild desire take over as I grip her thighs around her waist, holding her tightly as I stand up off the foot of the bed and back her up against the wall, burying my face in her breasts, feeding off of them like a starving baby desperate for milk.

 

Her breathing erratic, she begs me for more.

 

The sound of her voice crying “John…John…please John…” is my undoing.

 

As I feel her hands reaching towards the button on my jeans, I brace her up against the wall and step back only long enough for her to quickly unbutton my jeans and boxers and push them down my waist, finally freeing my fully erect cock then greedily grabbing hold of it as she guides me towards her entrance.

 

Normally I would attempt tp slow things down.

 

Normally I would attempt to take control of the situation.

 

Normally I would be able to regain some sanity, some semblance of romance.

 

Normally I would take the woman I love and lay her down on the bed and make slow sweet tender passionate love to her.

 

But this is Marlena.

 

And with Marlena, nothing is Normal anymore. Nothing ever was normal and nothing ever will be.

 

As her thighs squeeze tightly around me, and her hands stroke me, frantically pulling me closer, I realize I should make sure she is ready for me. But she doesn’t seem to care, desperate to have me inside her.

 

She is pulling me into her, and as my tip reaches her wet panties, I instantly grab at them, jerking them to the side and entering her with a force to be reckoned with.

 

The feel of her hot tight slippery folds opening and sucking me in is one that will be burned in my brain for all of eternity.

 

I push my hips against her tigthly, burying myself within her with one long deep thrust.

 

“SHIT JOHNNNN” she grunts before biting down on my shoulder.

 

I start to pull out, terrified I have hurt her, but she quickly grabs hold of my ass cheeks muttering “God No Don’t Stop Baby”.

 

I don’t need any further encouragement. I quickly pull out only to thrust into her even harder.

 

Trying my damndest to keep from passing out from sheer pleasure, I continue to stroke her over and over again, hitting her at just the right angle to cause her to scream out over and over again in ecstasy until finally, I reach my brink.

 

“OOHHHH FUUUUCKK DOC” and with one final thrust bury myself inside her, joining her in one mind-blowing simultaneous orgasm.

 

I feel my knees start to buckle and stumble backward, carrying Marlena, her legs still wrapped around my waist, her arms tightly hugging my chest, until I feel the bed behind me and together we collapse backwards onto the safe confines of my cozy mattress.

 

Seconds pass to minutes as we lay there still trying to catch our breath.

 

“Jesus Christ, John…” she whispers into my sweat soaked neck.

 

“You started it Marlena.”

 

She giggles as she responds “Guilty as charged. But you certainly FINISHED

it..OH MAN!!”

 

Still buried inside her, her sweat slick legs wrapped around me, I can still feel the tremors and aftershocks of her orgasm squeezing against my organ.

 

She lays her head in the crook of my shoulder, staring at me with those heavenly hazels and a cat-that-swallowed-the-canary grin.

 

“So Dr. Evans, I take it you are satisfied?

 

“Mmmmmm, I’m completely satisfied.” She runs her fingers through the hair on my chest and we enjoy the peace and quiet. “You just get better and better John Black.”

 

For a while I allow myself this momement – a moment like thousands of others from when we were married; husband and wife basking in the afterglow of lovemaking.

 

Then reality sets in and I am reminded she isn’t my wife.

 

I am not her husband.

 

And something has to give.

 

Marlena senses the change in me immediately. She looks up.

 

“Lemme guess – you want to talk now?”

 

I notice the slight irritation in her voice but try to ignore it.

 

“Is that too much to ask Marlena? Just to talk to me?”

 

“I guess not.”

 

And with that, she gets off of me, walks in to the bathroom and gets in the shower.

 

I lay in the bed, baffled and confused. Never have I known her have such drastic mood swings. She woke up from a nap, sweet and tender mood, which almost immediately switched into an almost animalistic lust, then after playfully bestowing me with compliments and affection, she practically walks away in disgust at the mention of talking to me.

 

Something is not right – and I intend to find out what is going inside that pretty litle head of hers – whether she likes it or not. After throwing my clothes on and getting some water, I go outside on the balcony for some cool air.

 

When she joins me on the balcony fresh from the shower and clad in my oversized

robe, she looks so petite and so adorable – I just want to wrap my arms around her and hold her forever.

 

But I am smart enough to know where that will lead – so I pull out a chair and sit down in a chair across from her. I watch her as she silently pours herself a glass of ice water and gulps half of it down. In silence, I notice the hickey I carelessly left on her neck and immediately worry about how she is going to hide it from Roman. He is coming home tomorrow. And by then, the hickey will probably look worse. She doesn’t seem to be concerned though – not about the hickey – or about anything for that matter.

 

She stares out at the stars, drinking her water in silence.

 

Finally I speak.

 

“You seem upset with me?”

 

“No…not really.”

 

“Not really?”

 

She shrugs her shoulders. “Nope”

 

I can’t help but notice she has not made eye contact with me since she joined me on the balcony.

 

I guess this is yet another one of her strange mood swings.

 

I place my hand on her shoulder gently. “Hey baby…it’s me. You can talk to me about anything.”

 

“I know that.”

 

“Then why is it that you are so against talking.” The look of disgust from earlier reaapears. “Because what’s the point John?”

 

“Excuse Me??”

 

“I mean, really. What’s the fucking point? We talk – we get upset – you say things that I get upset about – I say things that you get upset about – we both get angry – then we have amazing make-up sex and everything’s o.k. again. So why go through all the drama? Don’t you get it John?? That’s all I live with – day in, day out, for weeks, months, years now – is this damn drama. And I am so sick of it – I am sick of worrying about saving my marriage, I am sick of worrying about my children that can’t even bear to live in the same town with me…I am sick of feeling like I walking around town everyday wondering and wondering if everyone can see this Scarlet Letter that I wear across my chest because I am sleeping with my ex-husband that I never once stopped loving more

than life itself. I am so fucking sick of the worrying, the guilt, the shame – I mean Jesus Christ John…do you want me to have a nervous breakdown?”

 

I watch as she stares down into her lap, the tears pouring down her face. I drop down to my knees, grasping her balled fists in my hands.

 

“Hell no Marlena. I don’t want you to have a breakdown. I don’t want you to feel any of those things. I want to fix things. I want to make things right.I want to help you baby.”

 

Finally, her tear-filled eyes meet mine, shattering my heart in pieces.

 

“You can’t help me John.” Her lips quiver.

 

“How do you know if you don’t let me try baby?”

 

“You can’t help me because….because I love you so much. Because when you do this…when you show me how much you care about me…when I feel like you are the only one in the whole world I can turn to…because when everything else in my life is spinning out of control and you are the only thing – the only person I can turn to – then I won’t ever leave you. I won’t ever get over you. I won’t …EVER…STOP…loving you.”

 

I choke on my own tears, knowing all too well the desperation of her situation. Grabbing her by the waist, I pull her down to the ground into my lap, holding her so tightly, rocking her the same way she rocks my own son to calm him down. And I whisper to her softly.

 

“You listen to me Marlena. I can help you with a lot of things. I can help you with anything you ever ask of me. But I can never help you to stop loving me. Because that simply isn’t possible. We have a love with no limits; we have passion with no perimeters, we have souls with no seperation. From the day we met; we were destined to be one. And that is something we cannot just get over – it isn’t something that fades with time. You know that. I know that. Isabella knew that. And deep down, Roman knows that. Now I don’t know how we are going to fix this mess we have gotten ourselves into, but there is one thing and one thing only that I do know with absolute certainty. Fate – Destiny – that’s pretty powerful stuff. And I know for a fact that we at least got that working in our favor….And as for the rest – we’ll straighten it all out…one step at a time…Starting right now.”

 

Marlena looks up at me, her eyes swollen with tears. She looks so vulnerable,confused, and I make it my silent vow to live up to each and every word I have said. “What do you mean John?”

 

Standing up, I carry her over to the chair and sit her down. “I want you to sit out here for a few minutes, gather yourself together, and try to relax. I’m going to make a few phone calls and fix you some hot tea and rustle you up some room service. Then we are going to sit down and have a mature practical conversation and start fixing some of your problems – one by one, until we get this whole mess straighten out.”

 

Standing behind her, I kiss her forehead and squeeze her shoulders gently. “No more tears, ok? No worries – we aren’t going to talk about us – we aren’t going to talk about your marriage – but we ARE going to talk about you….and how we can start picking up the pieces in your life…one by one…OK?”

 

She nods, still unsure, but at least willing to listen to me.

 

I guess this is one moodswing I can be grateful for.

 

After taking a tray of food to much on, I call to check in on Brady. I assure Caroline that Marlena is ok – but that I wanted to keep an eye on her for a little while and make sure she slept and kept some food down before taking her home.

 

After making a few more phone calls I join Marlena on the balcony, and am relieved to see she looks better. She has some color in her cheeks and has calmed down and relaxed and is staring out at the starlit sky. She senses my presence. “You forget about me?”

 

I grin as I sit across the table from her with a notepad and pen. “Not in a million years babe. Just had to make a few calls and arrangements.”

 

Marlena looks at me nervously across the table. “You have your business face on John.”

 

Smiling, I tease her. “Are ya scared Doc?”

 

Giggling, she responds, “Yeah I feel like I am sitting in the principals office.”

 

“Well if that were the case, you’re wearing your principal’s robe and nothing underneath…so I assume that wouldn’t be very much of a business meeting – and I definitely wouldn’t be wearing my business face.” She giggles. Then gets right to the point.

 

“So what is it you want to talk about – regarding me that is.”

 

“First off – your health.”

 

“My health???”

 

“Something isn’t right with you baby and that is something we can fix.”

 

“John my health is fine. I threw up a few times. I’m not sleeping well. I told you – it’s just nerves.”

 

“You’re probabaly right. But there isn’t anything wrong with having a doctor confirm it.”

 

“John- this is ridiculous – I-”

 

“Marlena, if the roles were reversed, what would you do?” After a brief period of silence, she reluctantly admits “I would have a doctor check you out.”

 

“Good. It’s settled then. We will get you an appt scheduled for Monday, Tuesday at the latest.”

 

“Fine. Are we done?”

 

“Not quite. Second thing we can fix immediately. I want you to see a counselor.”

 

“You want me to WHAT??”

 

“You heard me Marlena.”

 

“John I am a psychiatrist. The last thing I need is-” I cut her off abruptly.

 

“Quite the contrary – that is exactly what you need. You are a nervous wreck, you can’t keep your food down, you don’t sleep, you swear it is just nerves – well then who better than a counselor to help you sort through some things.”

 

“John I dont need a psychiatrist to tell me what I already know.”

 

“Maybe not – but you need someone to listen to you – someone completely objective. Someone with no hidden agenda or motive. You need some help Marlena. I know you better than anyone in the world, and I know something isn’t right. Baby, have you not noticed your mood swings are out of control. Have you not noticed that you aren’t dealing with any of your problems, you are just pretending they will fix themselves?”

 

I watch as a tear rolls down her cheek.

 

“Of course I have noticed. I guess I just didn’t know everyone else has.”

 

“Not everyone else sweetheart – just me.”

 

“OK…I will start seeing a counselor. Two points for you. Now are we finished?”

 

“Not quite. This last one is going to be a little hard for you to hear – so I want you to be strong. Can you do that?”

 

Panic flashes across her face.

 

“Are you leaving?”

 

“I am. But only temporarily.”

 

“For how long John?”

 

“Long enough to fly to Colorado, pick the twinners up, and bring them back home where they belong.” Her mouth drops open.

 

“John I don’t think that is a good idea.”

 

“Marlena they are coming home. And that’s a fact.”

 

“But JOhn, they don’t want to.”

 

“I’ve already talked to them – they are coming home. Period.”

 

“But what about Roman – I haven’t talked to him about it. He will feel so hurt that he wasn’t included in this conversation.”

 

“Don’t give me anymore of that ‘Poor Roman’ bullshit. If it were up to Roman he might never have them come home Marlena.” I didn’t want to tell her – but it had to come out. So as her anger starts to boil over at me, I quickly redirect it towards her husband, letting her in on the conversation Bo and I had earlier in the Pub. After explaining to her how Roman basically duped his children and his wife into getting them on a plane to Colorado.

 

I expected anger. I expected fury. I expected the wrath of Marlena.

 

None of that happened.

 

She was shellshocked.

 

She looked broken.

 

She never said a word.

 

 

“Baby you ok?” She shook her head no, afraid to say a word, afraid to open her mouth for fear of falling apart.

 

“Can I do anything?” She shook her head no again, staring out into space.

 

So we just sat there in the dark in silence. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, she spoke calmly and coldly.

 

“He sent my babies away….He lied to them…he lied to me…And he sent my babies away.”

 

“What can I do?”

 

She looked me square in the face, her eyes gleaming with more determination and strength than I have seen in her eyes in months.

 

“Go get my children John.”

 

“I have every intention of doing that. Now what are we going to do about Roman. He isn’t going to be very happy that you and I chose to do this together without consulting him?”

 

Her eyes flash with anger.

 

“To hell with what he thinks. You let me deal with Roman Brady. You go get our babies John. And bring them back home to us.”

 

 

Chapter 8

 

– Wine Me, Dine Me, Sixty-Nine Me

 

Sitting on the balcony, we begin to make plans.

 

It is refreshing – John and I, sitting like two rational adults – no fighting,

no attacking each other like wild animals in heat – just the two of us – making plans.

 

It is almost as if we are making plans for our own family – as husband and wife- but we both knew all too well that isn’t the case.

 

Nonetheless, we make plans.

 

We discuss John’s flight plans.

 

We discuss babysitting arrangements for Brady.

 

We discuss exactly where to bring the twins once they arrive in Salem, but a lot of that depends solely on how Roman reacts to the whole situation. And until he decides to call me or return home, that scenario is up in the air.

 

We discuss getting the children back into school.

 

We discuss getting them into counseling.

 

And unfortunately, we are left with no choice to discuss living arrangements for them.

 

Roman lied to them; and I don’t trust him to be alone with him for fear he may do it again. So until I talk to him, a lot of the living arrangements are up in the air.

 

The main thing we discuss though – above all else – is just Loving them…giving all of the time and the space and the encouragement and love they need to feel whole again…to feel like a family – and broken as their family may be – I know one thing for certain – John is essential to their healing process. Letting them be taken away from him was the biggest mistake I ever made. He was the only father they ever knew. I was a mother they barely remembered, and we were only at the beginning phases of rebuilding that

parental bond. And Roman, biological father or not – well, in their eyes, he was a man that tore their family apart. But John – he was their Daddy, and in their eyes, he probably still is. And I took that from them – we took that from them – Roman and I ripped them away from the only permanence, the only stability they had ever known.

 

And that is something I will NEVER let happen again. I feel the sting in my eyes as I imagine what Sammi and Eric must have felt like when Roman had that horrible conversation with them; how unwanted, how unloved they must have felt. I swallow back the sob in my throat. I feel my stomach boil with anger towards my husband.

 

And then….I look across the table at John.

 

And there he is…writing….planning….his business face on – jotting notes about appointments… appointments to make with schools and appointments to make with a counselor.

 

And appointments to make for me – to see a doctor – and to see a counselor.

 

He is doing exactly what he promised he would – he is picking up the pieces of my shattered life – and piece by single piece – he is putting them back

together.

 

And just as he promised, he hasn’t asked to talk about us…or to talk about my marriage.

 

He isn’t demanding that I leave Roman.

 

He isn’t judging me.

 

He is just being my John.

 

He is just being my rock.

 

And as I sit there watching him writing down our plans, I feel safe. For the first time since I came back to Salem, I feel totally and completely at peace – protected by the only man that has ever loved me more than life itself.

 

He feels me watching him.

 

He sees the tears sliding down my cheeks.

 

And he smiles. Because he knows me well enough to know they are tears of joy.

 

“Excited baby?”

 

“Oh boy! I am! I can’t wait to see their sweet little faces and hug them and squeeze them and smother them with kisses!!” John is grinning at me like a little kid – obviously happy to see me this overjoyed.

 

“Well I can’t wait to go to the park and play ball with Eric. And to see Sammi coddle Brady like a little mother hen!”

 

 

“Oh that’s right! She is going to love getting to play little Miss Mommy.”

 

“She certainly will. Between you and Sammi, Brady is gonna be spoiled rotten!”

 

At some point I realize we are talking as if we are all going to be one big happy family….and I know that isn’t the case. I feel myself pulling back.

 

“Speaking of Brady, are we going to go get him? Then I could pick up my car.”

 

 

“We could do that….or we could take Caroline up on her offer to let him stay there for the night. She has been begging to keep him for quite a few weeks now, and with Shawn out of town she said she would get him all to herself.”

 

“Oh…ok. Well in that case, you could just take me to the parking lot and drop me off at my car – you wouldn’t have to get out.”

 

“I could do that too…or I could keep you here for one last night.”

 

“John I am not sure if that is a good idea. Roman gets home tomorrow evening. We have a really busy week. The kids are coming home…I have a lot to get done…”

 

I feel John as he slowly approaches me from behind my chair, placing his hands on my shoulders as he starts massaging me.

 

“Which is all the more reason for you to stay here tonight. Throw a couple of steaks on the grill, open up a bottle of wine, relax, and enjoy some good food, good company, and this beautiful starlit night.”

 

Oh he is so good. His hands continue to work the kinks out of my neck, before pushing me forward and starting to work on my upper back.

 

“Oh God you are so good at that.”

 

“Ummmm, learned from the best.”

 

“You did, huh?”

 

“Yep, what is it, muscle memory I think you called it?”

 

“Ummm-hmmm. That and the fact that you’re just sooo good with your hands.”

 

Leaning forward, he kisses the spot right behind my ear softly causing me to moan softly in pleasure. “And you’re mouth; you’re pretty good with that too.”

 

“Ummmmm, that gives me one huge idea.”

 

“Honey, as heavenly as all this sounds, I really need to get back home and start – wait – John – -what? – what are you doing?”

 

He takes the chair I am sitting in, picks it up, turning it around to face him. Bending over, he moves his mouth over mine slowly, nipping at my lips to coax them open before his tongue slides inside, dancing around mine.

 

I let a gush of breath out into his mouth. “God what are you doing to me John?”

 

“Well I was trying to seduce you with my mouth; since you say I am so good with it.”

 

“You are honey, you are, but you know I have to-” His hands drop down to the sash on his oversized robe I am wearing, and he undoes the knot letting the robe fall open.

 

His eyes flash with desire at the sight of my naked body.

 

Placing his hands on either side of the armchair and leaning over, he bows his head in adoration.

 

“Damn woman, you are the most beautiful sexy thing I have ever laid eyes upon. And I swear you grow sexier every single time I lay eyes on you.”

 

“Are you trying to seduce me into staying with compliments now?”

 

“You are the one doing the seducing.”

 

“Me?Huh? I am just sitting here.”

 

“Yeah, Naked”

 

“And just who do we have to blame for that John Black?”

 

Looking up, he flashes the most adorable grin at me before feasting his eyes on my breasts.

 

“I know….I know….I just can’t help it. I’ve been so good. All this time, I’ve been sitting here for hours knowing you had nothing on under that robe, and trying so hard to be a perfect gentleman, and I was doing so good, and I don’t know what happened, I just -” His lips grab hold of one of my nipples, sucking it softly.

 

“You just what baby?”

 

Grabbing the other breast, he kneads it, and as he sucks on one breast while rubbing the other nipple between his fingers, his actions begin to get a little firmer – a sure sign he is getting extremely aroused. I try to stop him, grabbing his face and looking into his eyes.

 

 

“What happened to ‘just talking’ John?”

 

“I told you – I don’t know what happened – I guess I just fell off the wagon.” Giggling, I try to still his wandering hands which are now around my waist and moving south towards my thighs.

 

“Fell off the wagon??? What wagon? We had sex less than five hours ago.”

 

“Was it that long? No wonder I’m so horny.”

 

Laughing hysterically now, I clamp my legs together before he can get his hands any closer to their designated target.

 

“John Black you are incorrigible!”

 

“I am incorrigible?Huh? I’m incorrigible???”

 

I don’t know who is laughing harder now.

 

“Need I remind you Little Miss Innocence, of exactly how incorrigible you were when you woke up from your nap this afternoon? And exactly how incorrigible you were at the Pub today when you practically had me cumming under the table with your foot?? Or how about a couple of nights ago on the pier when you-”

 

“I know I know but that was before we started planning. And behaving like mature rational adults. We can’t keep doing this baby. The twins will be back soon. Roman will be back. We are going to have to STOP doing this all the time are we will end up in very bad trouble. I’m serious.”

 

“But your nipples are so hard”

 

“I am sure they are after what you have been doing to them. But that doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

 

I cross my legs letting him know I mean business.

 

“I know you’re serious baby but you see the last few times we’ve been together – don’t get me wrong – they were amazing – phenomenal – spine shattering-”

 

John drops to his knees on the ground, his hands softly gently rubbing up and down my knees, his lips brushing against my belly as he continues his seduction

 

“…but they were so rushed…so desperate…so frantic…which is good – believe me I am not complaining…”

 

His hands slide me forward in the chair as he places angel kisses up and down my thighs and knees before turning his attention back to my nipples which were now begging for his hot wet lips.

 

“I am not complaining in the least…it has been incredible, but now that we have made all the plans, and we are trying to get your life in order, I don’t really know when or if we will get the chance to be together again…” He flicks my nipple with his tongue before grazing the other one with his teeth, torturing me and himself with the slowness of his sweet seduction…

 

“And Brady isn’t here… and Roman isn’t here, and you’re here…and I’m here… and I just wish I could have one long night – one whole night to please you the way you deserve to be pleased…”

 

He takes one breast in his hand, sucking on it while the other hand attempts to get between my knees which I am still trying desperately to keep closed.

 

I am getting frustrated because my resolve is trembling.

 

“Jesus John, if you pleased me any more I don’t think I could walk out that door tomorrow morning.”

 

“I’ll be gentle baby…I promise….please stay with me tonight…let me romance you…let me cook for you…let me give you a massage…let me make you laugh….let me make you feel like you don’t have a care in the world…please baby, let me love you….”

 

He straightens up on his knees, his fingers brush softly against my cheek before his lips brush against mine, back and forth several times ever so slowly, before his tongue darts inside and flickers against mine.

 

“Oh Dear God, you are good. How did I ever resist you when we were married?”

 

“You didn’t. That’s why we were always in bed, my love.”

 

His tongue darts into my mouth again and this time my mouth instinctively grabs hold of it, sucking on it gently.

 

He moans softly into my mouth, realizing he is very close to convincing me to stay.

 

Giving in to his kiss, I bring my hands up to his face, holding his head in my hands as our lips and tongues engage in a game of tug-of-war. He is smiling now – he knows I am his for tonight.

 

“So have you made up your mind Dr. Evans?” he whispers into my ear.

 

“I have.”

 

“And?”

 

“I think I will be staying for the evening – the ‘entire’ evening.”

 

He grins like a kid in a candy store.

 

“You have no idea how happy I am right now Doc.” Glancing down at the bulge in his jeans, I take a certain amount of pride in the effect I have over him.

 

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

 

“So what would you like to do Doc?”

 

“I … John Black…am not going to do Anything.”

 

Grabbing hold of his hair, I pull his face to mine.

 

“You…on the other hand….oh you have plenty of things to do…like cooking for me, massaging me, making me laugh, romancing me, …etcetera….etcetera….”

 

My lips find his and engage in a very slow, very hot, very wet , very erotic kiss.

 

He moans softly and his fingers find my nipples again. He groans as they harden to his touch. His voice is almost trembling when he whispers “Mind if I pick up where I left off?”

 

I push his head down to my breast and he immediately drops to his knees. “Not…in…the….slightest. Wine me….Dine me….Sixty-nine me baby.”

 

He licks his lips on response, he use to love it when we were married and I used that phrase on him.

 

His voice cracks as he asks in a totally serious concerned tone “Do I have to do it that specific order??”

 

“If you do I think I will kill you.” Wrapping my fingers through the locks of his hair,I prepare myself for the onslaught of pleasure.

 

John wastes little time, flicking one nipple before he moves to the other, then quickly moves lower towards my bellybutton. His tongue flicks in and out of my bellybutton before he he whispers huskily

 

“Spread your legs for me baby.”

 

Just the sound of his voice alone asking me to do that was enough to take me over the brink.

 

Slowly I spread my legs wide open and watch his eyes gleam with pleasure.

 

There are no words to describe the feeling it gives me to see the way he worships and adores every square inch of my body.

 

Sitting on the edge of the chair, with John on his knees in between my legs, I watch as he looks up at me, his cerulean blues darkened with desire.

 

And I open myself completely to him as his trembling fingers spread my folds and his rough hot tongue slides up and down my core. And when his tongue finally enters me, my head falls backwards just in time to see a shooting star blaze through the sky.

 

”Spread your legs for me baby”, he whispers against my knees.

 

Sitting in a chair on the balcony, all modesty thrown out the window, I open my legs wide and watch John drop to his knees, crawl between my spread thighs, licking his lips in anticipation.

 

As I feel his hot breath against my wet folds, my head drops back in sheer ecstasy just in time to see a star shoot through the dark sky above.

 

My hands grip his shoulders as he starts out slowly, first licking the inside of one thigh, then licking the inside of the other thigh.

 

I whimper from the sheer torture he is creating inside me.

 

I want his mouth on me.

 

I want his lips on me.

 

I want his tongue in me.

 

Suddenly he stops; is breath hot on my now dripping lips.

 

I groan in frustration.

 

“Marlena, look at me.”

 

My head thrown back, staring at the sky, his voice pulls me out of my ecstasy filled haze. Weak with desire, it takes every ounce of energy I have to lift my heavy head up and down to meet his passion-glazed eyes.

 

Looking down at him crouched between my knees; I am shell-shocked at the erotic image I see below.

 

Never in my entire life have I experienced this intimacy, sexuality, lust, and desire; all erotically wrapped up into one perfect passion-filled package of pleasure. This man was born to please me; to bring me to my knees trembling with desire.

 

His tongue licks the drops of moisture sliding down my inner thighs. He savors every moment.

 

My entire body begins to tremble; I grip hold of his shoulders harder.

 

I hear my voice come out as a whimper. “John please…just…”

 

“Just what baby?”

 

“Just don’t stop.”

 

His tongue brushes ever so softly against my moist folds and instinctively I throw my head back; groaning, as I spread my legs even further apart.

 

He stops again…. Damnit– is he trying to kill me???

 

“Marlena – I told you once already – Look at me.”

 

“I can’t John it’s too much.”

 

“I want you to watch me Marlena.”

 

Our glazed eyes meet.

 

“I want you to watch me taste you.”

 

He teasingly flicks his tongue against the moisture dripping down my folds.

 

“I want you to watch me lick you.”

 

He teasingly flicks his tongue against my opening

 

“I want you to watch my tongue slide inside of you”

 

He slides his tongue inside of my opening quickly.

 

“I want you to watch me when I drink you.”

 

He sucks gently against my hole.

 

Dear God this man is going to make me cum just with his words alone.

 

John pulls my legs slightly, giving me a better angle to watch.

 

His tongue slides along my wet folds, separating them slowly, before looking up to make sure I am watching.

 

I am amazed at the erotic image he is creating.

 

As his tongue continues to tease me, I squeeze his shoulders even harder, making sure my nails dig into his skin…making sure he senses my growing impatience….making sure he knows I am dying for more.

 

“What’s wrong baby, you want more?”

 

Grinding my teeth, I nod my head.

 

“You want me to make me cum, don’t you?”

 

Trembling, incapable of words, I nod quickly.

 

“You want me to put my tongue inside you?”

 

“John, please baby it hurts…I need you to finish me…pleeaasse.”

 

John grabs my hands off his shoulders and brings them down to his mouth, kissing them gently.

 

“Marlena, spread your lips for me baby.”

 

My hands trembling, I reach down and spread myself open, and watch as John’s control snaps in an instant at the view of my fingers slowly opening myself up for him to see my most intimate spot; spreading myself open to him..only to him. I know for a fact this drives him wild – he knows he is the only one I would ever dream of doing this for.

 

And just like that, his animal finally unleashed, growling, he immediately tongues me from bottom to top, stopping briefly to flick my clit with his tongue.

 

Gone is the teasing.

 

Gone are the gentle licks and flicks.

 

Gone is the tenderness.

 

My animal is back. He feasts on me like a man dying of thirst in the desert.

 

And just as he asked, I watch the entire thing.

 

Looking down at him feasting on my pussy, it is as if I am outside of myself, watching some wanton woman, doing and saying things I would never dream of with any other man. Only John – It was always only John. It will always be only John.

 

One of his hands grip my thighs, the other finds my opening. And like a man possessed, he flicks and licks my clit as he plunges his fingers inside me. Shaking uncontrollably, I watch as his fingers violently thrust straight through my core and his tongue jams up against my clit before his lips close around his tongue, sucking hard.

 

My hips shoot up hard against his face as my body; my entire being is instantly catapulted over the edge to oblivion…my orgasm so hard, so powerful that I scream out in ecstasy for all the world to hear, and the ecstasy continues as wave after wave jerk through my body ..

 

Until finally I am spent, left trembling; quivering; tears pouring down my face.

 

Never taking my eyes off of him, I watch as he removes his fingers and sucks my juices from inside me.

 

Seconds pass, then I slide out of the chair, and he holds me until the tears stop. He rubs my back until my body tremors cease. He wraps my robe around me to protect me from the chill of the night. Then several minutes later, he stands and sits in the chair where I was sitting just moments before, and cradles me like a babe as he washes the tears, sweat, and hair from my forehead.

 

“You ok sweetheart?”

 

“No, actually I am not.”

 

“What’s wrong baby? Did I hurt you, was I too rough, was I-“

 

Cutting him off, I softly whisper in his ear. “John, are you kidding me?? That was incredible. “

 

“But you said you weren’t ok?”

 

“Because I was worried about you.”

 

“Me??? Oh honey I am on cloud nine. There is absolutely no reason in the world for you to worry about me.”

 

But I am no fool – I know that what he just did has his heart racing, his blood pounding, and his cock straining against me so hard I fear it may bust a hole straight through his pants.

 

But that is my John – instead of worrying about his own release, he suffers in silence, rocking me in a chair, the sensation of my ass against his cock no doubt driving him mad with desire. And yet he continues to rock me, as the sweat pours down his face and he tries to hide his raging desire and care for me instead.

 

And that is just not going to happen.

 

“Stand up John.”

 

“Huh??”

 

“You heard me, I said stand up. Now.”

 

Assuming I am having yet another mood swing, he stands up immediately, almost with fear in his eyes. He places me on the ground in front of him.

 

I waste no time.

 

My hands immediately head towards his pants, quickly pulling them down along with his boxers.

 

His cock springs to attention, and I shove his shoulders backwards until he falls back down into the chair.

 

He lets out a low guttural grown as he watches me drop down on my knees and spread his legs.

 

I look up to see him staring down at me, his eyes full of love, lust, and a whole lot of gratitude.

 

I never take my eyes off of him as the tip of my tongue darts out and quickly licks the precum off the tip of his head.

 

His head instinctively drops back at the sheer pleasure of it.

 

“John, do you want me to tease you mercilessly the way you teased me?”

 

“OH PLEASE GOD NO!”

 

“God can’t help you now BlueEyes. But I can.”

 

I slowly slide my tongue against one side of him and down the other. He grabs my hair, pushing me to go faster.

 

“You don’t want me to lick you?”

 

“God Marlena it’s too late for that.”

 

“You want me to suck you?”

 

“Fuck yes I do”

 

“You want me to suck you hard and fast?”

 

“Yes! Damnit baby, please, I will do whatever you want.”

 

“I want you to look at me, I want you to watch me”

 

His head jerks up immediately.

 

Pulling his hands from my hair, I place them around the base of his shaft.

 

His hands trembling; his cock twitching, he waits for me to tell him what to do next. I can’t make him suffer anymore.

 

“Feed me John.”

 

And with that said, he guides his cock into my mouth; my words alone setting his climax in motion.

 

I pull him deep into my throat, sucking hard as his seed shoots down my throat instantly.

 

As I swallow his seed, our eyes lock.

 

And when I look into his eyes and see tears shimmering in those beautiful baby blues– I know without a doubt – I could no longer live without this man than I could live without air. He is my oxygen. He is my soul. And to be apart from him – well I think I would rather stop living.

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

‘Say My Name, Say My Name’

 

The angry orange flames from the fire flicker and rise up into arches, lashing out quickly then immediately recede; only to disappear then reappear, emerging as entirely new flames thus starting the pattern all over again.

 

The smoldering wood snaps, crackles, and pops as tiny little sparks shoot out in front of me before disintegrating in midair.

 

My cheeks feel flush from the heat.

 

My nostrils are filled with the sexy combination of burning oak mixed with the delicious fragrance I always refer to as ‘John’s scent’.

 

I breathe in deeply then slowly exhale.

 

My mind isn’t racing.

 

My heart isn’t pounding.

 

My stomach is not churning.

 

Oh contraire’…I am absolutely, utterly, and completely relaxed.

It’s about time.

 

On the floor in John’s loft; on the coziest, fluffiest white down comforter; I lay watching the flames rise and fall.

 

And I am finally, after all these years, at peace.

 

So I revel in the feeling, letting it envelope me and wrap around me in a tight warm cocoon of content.

 

Because deep down – I know the truth.

 

This peace – this heavenly haven of warmth and relaxation – it is merely a temporary state of mind.

 

But for now, I am enjoying each and every second of it.

 

Lying on my stomach on the floor before the fire, John straddling my back; I am receiving the massage of my life.

 

John’s knees squeeze tightly against each side of my bare ribcage; the denim of his jeans rough against my tender bare skin.

 

His firm buttocks press down into my lower back.

 

And his fingers – Oh My God, those MagicFingers; they slide slowly through the slippery scented oil on my back like wooden paddles pushing through a pond of melted molasses.  His thumbs press down and then up and under the bottoms of my shoulder blades.  The palms of his hands push down on pressure points all along the length of my spine.  His knuckles roll over and under, somersaulting across my shoulders as they release any remnants of tension that might have been tucked away in the hidden confines of my back.  And his fingers slide along sensuously, leaving no spot untouched; dancing along my warm wet skin much like an artist’s brush moves against the canvas letting each stroke of the brush evolve from an artistic impulse; unforced and unafraid; to create an inspired work of art.  And just as the artist uses a brush to paint a pretty picture, or a writer uses a pencil to write a timeless tale; John’s magic fingers make a masterpiece on me.

 

From head to toe, my muscles are humming in sheer delight.  I moan softly, thanking him for the past hour of sheer heaven.

 

His hands are moving slowly now, winding my muscles down, barely touching my skin; his feather-light caresses touching the wispy tendrils of hair that have escaped the confines of my ponytail.

 

When I feel his fingers fluttering against my sides, moving dangerously close but not close enough to the sides of my breasts, I moan a little louder.  And without even being able to see him, I know without a doubt that cocky little grin is spreading across that gorgeous face of his.

 

Because he knows what comes next.

 

Because he remembers all-too-well how many hours, how many nights, how many weekends we spent perfecting the art of touch.

 

Whether we were massaging one another, making love, bathing each other, tickling, kissing, licking, or sucking – we were perfecting an art from.

 

The art of touching one another.

 

The art of pleasing one another.

 

The art of making love.

 

I guess there are some things you never forget.  Year after year of separation – and yet our bodies are so finely tuned and connected – as if our bodies have a brain of their own.

 

Muscle Memory.

 

That is the only thing I can come up with to explain it.

 

So as John’s fingers once again glide along my naked sides, barely brushing against the sides of my breasts,  my body remembers.

 

And so does his.

 

I can feel his erection, pressing though his jeans firmly against my bare bottom, seeking solace.  I sensuously wiggle my ass up against his desire.  Leaning over me, John’s lips finds that little spot underneath my ear, brushing against it and sending shivers down my spine.  His breath hot against my ear, he whispers seductively against my flushed skin.  “How was that? Did you find it…enjoyable?”

 

“Hmmmm…I certainly did…

 

“Think you’re about ready for the second half?”

 

“Second Half?” I giggle. “John, you have been massaging me for over an hour.”

 

John’s tongue quickly flicks against the spot under my ear that sends bottle rockets shooting down through my belly, taking up residence in my centre.

 

“I wasn’t aware there was a time limit on this session….And besides, you know I always save my favorite part for last.”

 

A slow smile spreads across my face as I am bombarded with sweet sexy memories of a younger version of him, impatiently finishing up a massage session, only to get me to roll over so that he could ‘massage’ my breasts.

 

God, he was so adorable.

 

Christ, he still is.

 

Raising myself up on my elbows, I wait for John to stand up on his knees, then roll over on my back and watch as John sits back down on me, resuming his former position.  Never before have I been more aroused simply by looking at a man.

Bare-chested and barefoot, clad in only in unbuttoned Levi’s, he straddles my hips.

His eyes burn holes into my bare breasts, causing my nipples to harden into tight buds under his appreciative glare.  I watch the little muscle in his jaw flicker as he grinds his teeth.  His hands start at my arms, meticulously rubbing them as he leans over me, his breath on my face, and his mouth inches from mine.  With his erection pressing firmly against my crotch, the very distinct throbbing from my desire accelerates becoming uncomfortable; painful as I grind my hips up against his.  Smiling down at me, his fingers brush against the undersides of my breast.

 

“What’s the matter?  Horny, baby?” He grins devilishly at me as his fingertips find my tight buds, purposefully scraping back and forth against them without stopping, teasing them, coaxing them to stand straight up and plead for the friction of his firm calloused fingers.

 

I reach up and run my nails along his taut lower belly, my nails scraping against the tender sensitive skin.  “Ohhhh, John, you have noooo ideaaa.”

 

The spot in his jaw flinches even harder, picking up its pace – a sure sign that his little teasing session is arousing him just as much as it is arousing me.  His hands finally cover my breasts and squeeze them hard, eliciting from me a high-pitched gasp of pleasure.

 

“God! John!”

 

“You like that, baby?”

 

“Yessss.” His fingers squeeze my nipples then his thumbs rub them rough and rigorously.

 

He can’t help it.  My breasts are his weakness.  All he has ever had to do is touch them and within seconds it will bring him to his knees.

 

Tonight is no exception.

 

He growls “Doc…God baby, I love your tits…”

 

His teeth grind harder, then his hips follow suit, pushing his pelvis into mine, pressing his erection against my hot spot.

 

And still…His fingers continue to work their magic, gripping, squeezing, tugging and pulling.

 

How does he do this to me?  I will never know how with one single touch, one raise of an eyebrow, one heated glance or one lingering gaze  – he can strip me of every sense of modesty and every ounce of dignity…leaving me begging for something as basic and primal as the need for Him. To.  Penetrate.  Me.

 

My hands get restless, impatiently trying to free his hard member from the tight painful constraints of denim.  He reaches down, grabbing my hands and raising them above my head.  Pouting, I lift my hips up against his, anxious to speed this along.  He senses my restlessness, leaning over and placing a hot open kiss on my neck, before moving up to my face. “Ssshhh, Relax Baby.  You’re going to get all tense and waste all that work I just did.”

 

“I can’t help it John.” When his tongue flicks my hard tight nipple, any ability I might have to form coherent thoughts evaporates.  I tug at my hands, trying to spring loose from the prison of his hand but he holds them firmly as his glazed-over eyes continue to consume every inch of my skin.  “John-I– You–I-Plea—”

 

“Stutter much? Doc?”  He grins before taking one breast in his mouth and sucking while his tongue flicks back and force against its nipple.  He takes turns, sucking on one breast before finding the other, moving back and forth, licking his lips like a lonely kid in a lollipop store.

 

I feel like an animal.

 

I feel like a lunatic.

 

I feel So ALIVE.

 

When John’s full wet lips open against mine, my tongue immediately lunges forward to meet his, slapping against it before entering his mouth and stretching down his throat.  John uses one hand to hold my hands above my head while his other hand glides down past my breast to my belly, rubbing against my flat tummy as he pulls up his head for some air.  Jerking some oxygen into his lungs quickly, he immediately comes back down for more, his tongue thrusting forcefully into my mouth.  When I suck on his tongue, reminding him of a technique I perfected on him years ago, he moans his appreciation.

 

And as his free hand slides lower towards my sex, I can actually feel a warm and sticky drop of desire slide down my thigh. “John Please –I can’t do this anymore.”

 

But his hand, instead of moving south, heads back up to my breast, pressing his palm into it and rubbing.  “Sure you can, baby.  Doesn’t this feel good?”

 

His tongue licks back and forth against my nipple, before moving towards to my ear.

Dear God, the thing this man does to me with his tongue defy logic.

“John, please baby. It hurts. I need you to –“

 

“You need me to what?”  I place my forehead against his, my lips against his own, as I pant the words into his mouth.  “I need you to touch me.”

 

His breathe enters my mouth, his sweet fruity Zinfandel-flavored saliva mixing with my own.

 

“Touch you where, baby? Touch you here?” His hand ventures down towards my pulsating mound.  My head nods uncontrollably as my hips raise up to greet him.  “Oh My! Yes. Baby. Touch me there. Please.”

 

He releases my hands slowly.  My breath ragged, my chest rising up and down, I can’t even move.  All I can do is anticipate the moment when he will quench me….when his penetration will fill me and make me whole.

 

I watch, transfixed as he stands up on his knees and pushes his jeans down over his hips.  I can’t help but notice that he isn’t wearing his boxers, causing the throbbing in my nerve bundle to intensify.  I swallow hard, forcing myself to fight down the urge to shove him on his back, jump on top of him, and ride him into oblivion.

 

His hands tremble as he pushes his jeans down over his arousal.

I would have bet all my odds against it being even remotely possible for me to become any more aroused than I already am, but the sight of his rock hard member finally springing forth from his jeans would have proved me dead wrong.

 

I unconsciously lick my lips.

 

John removes his jeans and I spread my legs, making room for him. My knees instinctively bend up as my feet find the floor. Naked, glorious, as he finds his place in between my legs, I stare at the moisture forming on the end of his fully erect penis.

I reach for his chest, trying to pull him down to me, my nipples aching for that sensation that only comes from the hair on his chest rubbing against them.  He resists, instead staying on his knees.

 

I mumble something unintelligible.

 

He grabs hold of his dick, wincing in pain, and then points it toward its desired destination.

 

Groaning, I place my hands on his thighs, bracing myself for the invasion I have been craving.

 

Only it doesn’t come.

 

While holding his member so achingly close to my dripping opening, he brings his other hand down and with one finger, swipes upward, sliding along the length of me.

 

My knees begin to wobble uncontrollably.

 

My desire creates another warm wet trail down that trickles down my thigh.  John grins, and takes his time tracing the trail down the inside of my thigh with his finger before sticking the evidence of my arousal into his mouth and suckling it, savoring it.

 

What the hell is wrong with him?? Is he human? How is he not plunging into me like a man possessed?

 

While I am quivering, dripping and mumbling unintelligibly, he is stopping to sample the flavor of the month.

 

Taking matters into my own hands, I decide to stop this madness, using some tactics that I know from years of experience will slice every single sliver of control he has left.

Reaching up with my hands, I place them on my breasts, caressing them while I stare deep into his eyes.  John’s mouth instantly drops open quicker than a kid’s toy nutcracker at Christmas.

 

Some things never change.

 

As we stare into one another’s eyes, I continue to play with my breasts, my fingers dancing along my buds as John’s control wavers.

 

I learned early on in our marriage that the sight of me pleasuring myself in any way, shape, or form was something he could not resist.

 

And obviously, he still has a special appreciation for this concept.

 

His mouth still hanging open, he stares, afraid to blink, unwilling to miss one single second of this act.  “John do you want me to stop?”

 

“No baby. Not yet. Just a few more seconds. Please.”

 

He is breathing heavily now, and I can see sweat beads forming on his brow.

 

His erection defies science as it grows even longer, hardening and stretching to brush against my slit.  “Then I suggest you stop teasing me and finish what you started.”

Never taking his eyes off my roaming hands, he clumsily reaches down and grabs the base of his penis, sliding it up against the length of my slit.  That sensation, that feeling of the head of him sliding up my folds to press against my bundle of nerves, has always been the single most erotic technique he ever perfected on me.

 

It drives me wild.

 

And judging from his reaction, it drives my lusty lover wild as well.

 

My hands and breasts now forgotten, he stares down as he watches himself sensually slide up and down, sexing me up, making me moan.  Pure, uninhibited lust shoots through my veins.  I can feel my head tossing from side to side on the plush pillow, my sweat-soaked skin sliding along the down comforter; my toes curling into the cold hard wood floor.  He becomes still, his dick poised at the entrance to my throbbing desire.  I feel his engorged head push against the opening, and reach out to grab hold of his arms.

 

Bracing his hands on either side of me, our eyes lock.

 

Without words, I submit to him completely.

 

Something happens in my soul.

 

A tiny part of me that has been locked away for all these years is released and handed over to him on a silver platter.

 

I can’t put it into words.

 

Science can’t define it.

 

Psychology cannot analyze it.

 

But at that moment, waiting for his penetration, hazel locked into blue, that intangible piece of my soul passes through me and is once again handed over to its rightful owner.

 

And at that point I know – there is no turning back.

 

Regardless of whose last name I carry, regardless of whose ring I wear – I am his now.

 

And within seconds, he is going to consummate this newfound marriage of our souls.

 

He pushes forward, and then waits for the resistance to ease before pushing a little further.  I don’t realize how hard I am biting my lip in anticipation until I taste the metal on my tongue.

 

We never break eye contact as he continues to push forward.  My muscles tighten and grip hold of him, sucking him deeper. “Fuck, baby, I love you so much.”

 

He plunges forward an inch then pulls back slightly.

 

“No John, please don’t stop. Please baby Please..”

 

“Say it.” He eases forward an inch.

 

“What? Say what?”

 

“Say it back to me. Say you love me.”

 

He plunges forward a bit then stops.

 

God, he is almost there.

 

“I love you. I love you…Please…Keep going.”

 

He places his forehead against mine, looking downward as he breathes deeply, trying to cool his desire and put a leash on the animal in him threatening to spring loose on me like a black panther in heat.

 

“Who, Marlena? Who do you love?”

 

My insides stretch to accommodate him.  A little more.  So close.  Almost there.

 

“You baby.  I love you.”

 

He pulls out an inch and I yelp in despair.

 

“Tell me who you love Marlena. Say it. Say it over and over again and don’t stop.”

 

He eases forward again.

 

“You, John. I Love You, John.  I Love You, John.”

 

And Finally, he thrusts his rod, slamming it into me, putting an end to the torture that I was beginning to think I would surely die from.

 

“That’s it baby. That’s my girl. Say it. Say my name. ”

 

“John. I Love You, John.  I Love You.”

 

My words win me the reward of a second thrust, more powerful than the first, as he tears through any resistance, forging his way through my love canal and driving me towards ecstasy.

 

“John.  I Love You, John.  I love You.  I Love You. Only You John.”

 

He withdraws only to reward me yet again, thrusting inward and upward, banging up against that spot that only he can claim.

 

“Oh Shit, John, I Love You.  John.  I Love You. Dear God, I love you So Much.”

 

And with each and every thrust, I love him more.

 

With each and every stroke,  I love him more.

 

With each penetration, my words echo through the still and silent room.

 

“I.  Love.  You.  John.  ”

 

And with each thrust he picks up more pace.

 

With each penetration, he enters me with more force.  He is almost there. So Close. I can feel it.  He is teetering.

 

Finally, his fingers find my bundle of nerves, tickling them, playing them like a concert pianist.

 

“My. God. John. I.Lo-– “

 

My voice instantly cracks, peaking, turning into a cry of erotic release.  Then our world shatters into a million tiny colorful crystals; shooting upwards and spreading across the sky like the most brilliant display of fireworks.

 

His seed shoots deep into me as my walls clamp down on him; milking him, convulsing around him uncontrollably.

 

“–ve you.  John.”

 

Silence.  His body weight falls down on me.  My muscles quiver again – residual effects from our escape to ecstasy.

 

His breathing is shallow against my chest.

 

His sweat drips down his cheek, landing on my breast.

 

His desire seeps out from my core, sliding down my legs to form a small sticky spot on the floor.

 

And his racing heart beats against my own.

 

I whisper softly in his ear.

 

“You.      John.      I.       Love.     You.   John.”

 

Chapter 10 ( And yes, I know, it’s about fucking TIME!!!)

 

Memory Lane

 

Three Days. It has been three days since I last saw John.

 

After returning from his loft, and quite possibly, the most memorable night of my life, I arrived home to an empty house.

 

Yet Again.

 

Roman has still not come home.

 

He did grace me with a message on our answering machine – short and sweet – letting me know he would not be home until Friday.  Apparently he has decided to extend his fishing trip a little longer because he needs time to ‘think’.

 

Isn’t that nice?  He needs time to think.

 

I cannot help but wonder what he is so busy thinking about.

 

Does he think about his children?

 

Does he think about his wife?

 

Does he think about which bait to use and which hook to tie it on with?

 

Or does he simply think about how peaceful it feels to pick up and leave his shattered family and go somewhere that he doesn’t have to think about anything at all?

 

As for me, I refuse to let it get me down.

 

Don’t get me wrong.  I am angry with him…no, correction – I am furious with him. Disappointed with him.

 

Disgusted with him.

 

And, although it sickens me to admit it, I am also deathly worried about him.

 

Yet I will not allow my concern over his wellbeing override my anger with his absence.

 

So I am refusing to let him rain on my parade today.

No, not today.

 

Three days have past.

 

And it is Wednesday.

 

And John is coming home…and bringing my babies with him.

 

So for today – I am not going to worry about Roman.

 

I am not going to worry about my marriage.

 

I am not going to worry about my future.

 

I am not going to worry or concern myself with anything at all, except getting my babies back.

 

Sitting on the couch, watching the clock, I wait.

 

And wait.

 

And wait.

 

Then just like clockwork, at three p.m., I hear Brady babbling, awake from his afternoon nap and eager for lunch.

 

My heart flipflops.

God help me, how have I grown to love this little angel as deeply and profoundly as if he were my own.  Having him here all to myself these past three days has been my saving grace.

 

Much to John’s concern, I insisted that Brady stay with me. It seemed at the time to be the most sensible and logical solution.  Brady feels safe; closer to me than anyone else but John.  And he is still a little young to fly.

And quite frankly, I desperately wanted this time with him…alone…my adorable little Baby-John.

 

He peers through the playpen looking for his new-found companion.

 

As soon as he hears my voice, he looks upward and finds my face, flashing me that adorable toothless grin.

 

Instinctively, his arms reach up towards me and his babbles become more coherent as he perfectly verbalizes his new favorite word reserved only for me.  “Mama.”

 

Tears sting my eyes as I scoop him up and hold him, whispering words shared only between a mother and her child.

 

God love this little baby boy!

 

He has no recollection of a mother.  He will probably never remember his own mother.  But intuitively, he knows he is supposed to have one.

 

A Mama.

 

A Nurturer.

 

A Protector.

 

And of all the people in the world he could have latched on to fill those needs, he has chosen me.

 

My heart swells.

 

Good God, what I would give to be his Mommy…to wipe away the tears, to rock him to sleep every night, to feel his sweet breath on my neck and know that he is my own little miracle.

 

The bond that has developed between the two of us over these last few days feels indestructible.

 

But I am no fool.  All things are destructible.  All things fall apart – eventually.  And everyone gets hurt in the midst of destruction.  I have learned this all too well by now.  And the sad thing is – things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better.

 

Brushing the tears from  my eyes, Brady lays his head on my shoulder; feeling safe and content; without a fear in the world.

His love calms me.

 

Isn’t it ironic how easily a child can nurture and comfort a grown adult so effortlessly?

 

Giggling as he plasters my face with those delicious slobbery kisses, we head to the kitchen and I fix his bottle.

 

And once again, his little game begins. I slide the nipple in – he pops the nipple out, grinning as he sticks out his tongue and zerberts my cheek.  I bring the bottle to his mouth again, wiggling it around so he will latch on.  Instead he places his hand on the bottle and pushes it away, before placing his chubby little cherub hand on my face. “Momma.”

 

Begrudgingly, I attempt to ignore his newfound favorite word, because I don’t want to confuse him.

 

Or Me.

 

Because I am not his Mommy.

 

I’m not even his aunt.

 

I am simply the married woman who is committing adultery with his Daddy.

And I know for a fact that his real mother is probably rolling over in her grave, God Bless Her Soul.

 

So I continue playing his little feeding game with him, failing miserably.

 

This darling little angel does not want me to feed him. He wants me to cuddle him. He wants me to love him.  He wants me to smother with him with sweet tender kisses and dote on each tiny little sound and every newfound gesture and praise him, encourage him each and every second of his day.

 

But I can’t.

 

Because what he wants, what he needs, what he thrives upon is the love of a mother.

 

And I can’t be his mother.

 

I will never be his Mama.

 

I will always be Marlena.

 

To him, I will always be Mrs. Roman Brady.

 

The thought of that literally knocks the breath out of my already-queasy stomach.

 

Breathing deeply, I breathe deeply, slowly removing the five pound rock lodged in the pit of my stomach.

 

The feel of Brady tugging against my arm alerts me to the fact that he has grown bored with my lack of interaction in his little game.

 

As I place the bottle in his mouth and watch as nature takes over, he begins to suck on his bottle greedily.

 

And his ANGEL EYES lock with mine.

 

Hazel locks with BabyBlue.

 

And I am blessed, literally kissed by God, as I stare into those deep, soulful-blue eyes.

 

Funny, there is this moment in that happens when feeding your child that can only be described as some profound miracle.

 

Suckling on nourishment, the eyes of a child staring deep through your eyes straight down to the depths of your soul; the child places all of their trust, all of their love, their entire being into your trembling hands.  For eternity.  And Longer.

 

Thank God for those tiny profound miracles.

 

***************************************************************************************************

With Sammi passed out on one shoulder and Eric laid out along the other, I rap softly on the door.

 

Marlena  quietly opens the front door.

 

As I slowly help push it open, careful not to wake her sleeping children; I am greeted by the sight of her cradling my sleeping child against her breast.

 

Her face is glowing.

 

Her eyes shimmer with tears.

 

And the wealth of emotion brimming over in her eyes is stronger than any emotion I have ever seen.

 

It is as if it is tangible – like I could reach out and touch the gratitude and pride radiating through her soul.

 

Her voice, thick with emotion, comes out in a breathy whisper. “Oh! My babies! My beautiful babies! John, I cannot think you enough.”

 

“You already have, sweetheart. You already have.”

 

Staring at my son, now awake and gazing up into her face, his tiny hand reaches out, placing it softly against her cheek.  “Momma.”

 

Grinning down at him, she coos in that special little language that they alone seem to share. “Hiyah SweetPea!  Guess What? Your Daddy’s here!”  Holding him upright so that he can see me, his face lights up with excitement and he lets out a piercing squeal.  “DaDaDaDaDaDa.”

 

I grin with pride, Marlena giggles, and the twinners begin to rouse from their deep slumber.

 

Eric wakes up first. “Momma?”

 

Jumping out of my arm, he throws his arms around her legs.

 

Handing Brady to me, she kneels down and squeezes him tighter than ever, causing him to elicit an infectious giggle.  Brady mimics Eric, giggling just as loudly, causing Eric and Marlena to laugh out loud at Brady’s copycat antics.

 

Looking up, Sammi stretches, still groggy, but does not contest when Marlena reaches for her.

 

Sitting down on the floor, with her son and daughter in her lap, she looks overwhelmed with fulfillment.

 

She comments on how much they have grown, and Sami’s pierced ears, and Eric’s surfer style snow blonde haircut, and examines each and every inch of both of them.

 

I swear she looks like she is literally overflowing with love.

 

She looks exactly the same way as she did that we got married.

 

Ethereal.

 

Brady and I join them on the floor, and we spend hours lying there, chittering and chattering about everything and about nothing.

 

And before we know it, hours have passed, whole boxes of pizza have been devoured, two eight year old children lay sound asleep across a Monopoly Board scattered with tiny red and green houses, and Brady lying content on Marlena’s chest, sighing peaceful dreams that belong to babies alone.

 

Grinning, I tiptoe over to her, and ease Brady out of her comforting arms, forcing myself to form a mental block against the sight of her flat on her back, propped on a pillow, with her feet on the floor and knees in the air.

 

I carefully help her up and she tiptoes upstairs to place Brady in a cradle. I follow close behind her, carrying the twinners, one by one, into their beds, and together, as a family, we tuck all three children into bed.

 

Returning downstairs, I kneel down to help Marlena clear up the Monopoly pieces, pizza boxes, soda cans.

Reaching down to grab the same pillow, our foreheads bump, forcing our eyes to meet.

 

And once again we are alone.

 

And I suddenly realize my arms literally ache to pull her into my arms.

 

But I don’t.

 

I can feel her resistance.

 

Three days ago, I left her feeling closer than two human beings could possibly be.

 

Now that the safety of the children’s presence is gone – everything feels awkward.

 

She seems scared.  Confused.  Lonely.

 

I take her hands in mine.  She jerks them away quickly. “John, No. Don’t. You can’t.”

“I can’t hold your hands?”

 

Regretfully, she shakes her head No, casting her eyes downward and changing the subject.  “John, Thank You,  For Everything.  For bringing my babies home.  For entrusting me with your beautiful son, Thank you for just being there.

 

“Thank You too, Marlena.”

 

Thank me? What did I do?”

 

The most adorable soft giggle erupts from her.  She catches herself instantly, silencing her giggle to a whispery laugh.

 

And in that moment, I am bombarded, almost painfully assaulted with images, flashes, giggles, moments left stranded in time.

 

Locked-away memories of night after night with my newlywed wife.

 

And I swear to God, I can hear the crumbled up chunks of my heart land with a thud and bounce along the hard wood floor..My hardwood floor…

 

****************************************************************************************************

I am what you could call an expert on John’s body language; every nuance, every shift of his eyes, each flinch in his jaw and cock of his eyebrow.

And at this moment, I am privy to all of them.

 

As he grabs a pillow from the floor, I reach out for his wrist, inviting him to join me on the couch.  “John, Honey, you ok?”

 

The shade of his eyes now midnight blue, the sadness – is brightened only by the sparkle of tears shimmering in the nighttime shadows.

 

‘Yeah…I am good.  I mean, the twinners are home…Brady looks healthier than ever….You look like you are excited enough to pop now that you have those rugrats sleeping right upstairs!!”

 

I reach out, placing my hand on his and squeezing gently.

 

“Then why do you look so sad, almost as if you are grieving.”

 

“Well, Doc…I guess in a way I am.  I mean, it just doesn’t seem fair.  This is my life.  This should be mine.  My house.  Those should be my children sleeping upstairs, and you – you should be my wife.    My.    Wife.  And right now, right now you should be squirming beneath me, whimpering, pleading me, desperate for release – for your release, for my release.  For our release.”

 

I gasp in shock at the heated feelings his graphic images create.

 

I feel his breath closer as his delicious masculine scent invades my nostrils.

 

Inhaling deeply, I hold that deep breath in my lungs for as long as I can…reveling in the rush, the euphoria.

 

This man is a drug to me.

 

I simply cannot get enough.

 

Our harsh, shallow, breathing quickens and echoes throughout the room.

 

I feel John’s hands on my thighs, gripping them, forcing them apart as he slowly lunges forward, pushing me deep into the couch.  “Doc, Baby, I missed you so much.”

As his hands spread my thighs open, he instantly slides forward into his rightful spot between my legs.

 

I feel his erection straining hard against me.

 

Staring at one another, afraid to keep going yet terrified of stopping, John presses upwards and my body instinctively grinds upward to meet his forceful thrust.

I let out a loud gasp of pleasure.

 

John reaches up, covering my mouth, whispering “Ssshhhh.”

 

Then his hands are at my thighs, pulling upward at my now-crumpled short skirt, jerking it upward before quickly moving towards his own buckle and zipper and shoving downward.

 

He thrusts again, and I instantly realize that we are five seconds away from copulating on the couch without any doors or locks to shield our secret.

 

“John-Wait-We can’t.”

 

John buries his head in my neck, his mouth sucking while his tongue greedily laps up the scent of my skin. “Please, Baby. Just once. Sure we can, Baby. We’ve done this a thousand times. Just try not to make much noise, baby.”

 

His hands have found their way beneath the lining of the crotch of my panties and I gasp again as his fingers brush against the outside of my slick wet folds. He uses his free hand to cover my mouth again, whispering Ssshhh as he slowly slides one long finger deep inside me, causing me to grasp hold of his hand as it covers my mouth, biting into his palm to keep from crying out in sheer delight.

 

“Oh God, Baby, you are so wet.  So tight.  So hot..I need IN you….So bad Baby..So Fucking Bad.”

 

As he mumbles unintelligibly, talking dirty to me as his hips instinctively thrust against the nearest surface, I know he has lost any and all control.

 

He wants me, and has every intention of having me.

 

He frantically reaches down to shove his jeans lower below his ass, reaching downward to release his fully engorged cock.

 

His hot wet tip presses firmly against my mound.

 

“Shit, John! Wait. We can’t do this. The kids, Brady. Please baby Stop.”

 

The haze in his eyes acts as a barrier of thick fog, and I know he is too far gone to rationalize.

 

Rubbing his tip against me, burying his head between my blouse-covered breasts, his tongue finds mine.

 

“Please Baby. Just Once. Just let me put it in once.  I promise I’ll be quiet. Just let me in there.  Please.  I missed you so bad.”

 

His desperate whispered whimpers almost break me.

 

Almost.

 

Grabbing his hand, I push him up and head towards the kitchen.

 

John immediately gets an idea.

 

Grinning devilishly, he starts pushing me backwards toward the kitchen table.

 

“John No.  Follow me.”

 

Sneaking out the back door, I head towards our little hideaway.

 

He remembers it instantly, picking me up and clumsily carrying me,  his now unbuckled jeans falling halfway around his knees.

 

And there it is. The large magnolia tree against the side of the brick wall  – our midnight rendezvous retreat.

 

It beckons to us, as if it has been waiting for our long-overdue return.

 

Creeping behind a cluster of magnolia, rose bushes,  the sweet fragrance from a honeysuckle trellis filling my lungs; and we are hidden completely from the outside world.

 

John’s pants are around his ankles.

 

My skirt is above my waist.

 

His hands grip onto the underneath of my thighs, pulling them, lifting them up and around his waist.

 

My ankles lock behind his hips.

 

My back slams against the brick wall.

 

I gasp loudly, no longer worried about the peering eyes and ears of sleeping children.

 

John teases me, grinding up against me, driving me wild with desire.

 

Lit from a sky full of stars and a full moon, our eyes meet.

 

My animal has returned to me.

 

And he has lost every bit of restraint.

 

Dear God, I love this Man So Much.

 

His hands pull my legs tighter around him before sliding under my ass.

 

“Unbutton your shirt, Marlena.”

 

And like a puppet being pulled by his masters strings, I frantically unbutton the top three buttons of my shirt and unlatch the front clasp of my lacy bra as John’s mouth immediately latches onto the first free breast, nipping and suckling like a new born babe starved for sustenance.

 

“Do you remember this, Doc?”

 

He is panting.

 

“Do you remember the nights we spent together, so turned on we were afraid of waking the twinners.  Do you remember me taking you up against this wall, Baby?”

 

My voice comes out in a low, desperate growl. “Oh God, Yes John, I remember.”

“Do you remember how I used to take you on the kitchen table. Our kitchen table. And the shower.  And the hours we spent in the bed.  Our Bed.  Do you remember that?”

 

His mouth moves to the other breast, sucking hard, almost ferociously, marking his territory, and sucking away the grief.

 

“John, Please. I remember, Baby. I remember every single second with you. No One makes me feel the way you do. No One.”

 

He looks deep into my eyes and the sadness there rips me in half.

 

“Do you understand me, John? Do you hear me? No one makes me scream.  No one makes me feel like an animal.  No one else makes me talk dirty, begging for the things that you do to me, the things that you-only you -taught me.  No one makes me eat, sleep, and breathe sex – with you – and Only You.  NO ONE!”

 

John grins naughtily, his teeth glinting brightly in the dark.  “I do make you beg, don’t I?”

 

His dick pokes against my entrance and instinctively, I grab his tight chiseled ass, pulling him towards me.

 

“Oh God, John, Please.”

 

He pushes forward ever so slightly, and my breath catches in my throat in anticipation.  “Beg for me, Marlena.”

 

My head falls back against the brick wall.

 

“Please John, PLEASE. I am begging, Baby. Can’t you feel me begging for you??”

 

My inner walls squeeze his rod in a deathgrip.

 

Growling like a tiger, he thrusts straight though me, practically howling from the heat.

“I feel you, Doc.”

 

 

He pulls out quickly before thrusting even deeper.

 

“I hear you, Doc.”

 

Jerking my knees above his shoulders and burying his face in my tits, I feel the dampness of his sweat mixed with tears.

 

“I need you, Doc.”

 

Reaching down to pull his buried head out of my chest, I place my head against his.

 

“You have me, John. You have me. You always did. You always will.”

 

And as the tears pour down our faces and the sweat slides down our skin…he continues to make me HIS…as he pounds into me over and over and over again, making sure that I NEVER forget who it is that I belong to – mind and body…heart and soul.

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Hickory Dickory Dock

 

Tick…..Tock.

 

Tick…..Tock.< p> </p> Tick…..Tock.

 

The seconds creep by.  I shift in the tub, trying to find a warm spot.  No such luck.

The bubbles have disintegrated, the water has gone from steaming to lukewarm to tepid to cool.

 

My skin has gone from hot to warm and pink to wrinkled and tinted blue.

 

The clock on the mantle downstairs strikes twelve.

 

I guess I may as well get out and go to bed.

 

Wrapping myself in my favorite pink silk robe, I check in on the twinners.  They are fast asleep.

 

I go downstairs to check the answering machine, even though I know that Roman hasn’t called.

 

Something is wrong.  Surely he should have called.  He was supposed to be home three days ago.

 

But three days ago came and went, and I never heard from him.  After waiting around for most of that day for his arrival, Sammi and Eric and I went to The Pub for lunch, and I was surprised to see that Sean had already come home.  He assured me that Roman was fine and was just taking a little time to himself.  The tone in Sean’s voice sickened me, even when spoken with that charming Irish lilt.  ‘Poor Roman, he has been working so hard lately.  He really needed a break.’

 

Caroline quickly joined in, her eyes full of compassion for the son that can do no wrong.  “Oh Poor Roman, he is been through so much this past year.”

 

I swear they sound like a broken record.

 

”Oh, Poor Roman, Stefano stole a year from him.”

 

“Oh Poor Roman, no one can understand what he has been through.”

 

“Oh Poor Roman, Poor Roman, Poor Roman:”

 

Seriously???  Give me a fucking break. I swear to God, if I hear one more person say ‘Poor Roman’, I am going to fucking scream!

 

Stretching out on the couch, I take a deep breath.

 

I realize I am bitter.  I acknowledge that a small part of me has resented Roman ever since he returned.  And finally, I understand why.

 

He sent John away from me.

 

Then he sent my babies away.

 

Then he went away.

 

Then he left me alone.

 

Tick.         

Tock.

Tick.         

Tock

Tick

Tock.

 

I look at the clock on the mantle.

 

Twelve O’Nine.

 

I catch myself grinding my teeth.  Why can’t I go to sleep??

 

My stomach growls and I realize I haven’t eaten since this morning.  I am fairly confident I have developed an ulcer.  I can’t seem to keep any substantial mount of food down.  And it is now beginning to show.  I must have lost five pounds in the last week.  I have avoided John the past three days.  I know he is going to see the weight loss and the dark circles under my eyes and fly into one of his tailspins,  and insist I go straight to the doctor.  And to be honest, he is probably right.  I probably should get checked out.  But to be honest, if something is wrong – well I just can’t deal with any more stress right now.  My plate is past full – it is overflowing.

 

Tick.

Tock

Tick

Tock.

 

Five minutes pass.   My eyelids stick to my eyeballs, dry and irritated from overuse.

Ten Minutes Pass.  It feels like an hour.  I consider crawling into the bed with Sammi or Eric, thinking that somehow the sweet smell of their hair or the yummy feel of their warm breath on my face might lull me into a relaxed state so that my mind might just let go – and drift off into the ever elusive sleep.

 

I remind myself to breathe deeply again, all the while wondering if maybe counting sheep could possibly work.

I remember an exercise I use with my patients.

 

Breathe in cold air.

 

Breathe out hot air.

 

Slowly.       Breathe in blue air. 

 

Slowly.       Breathe out red air.

 

Breathe In with the Good.

 

Breathe Out with the Bad.

 

I exhale, closing my eyes and massaging my jaw, willing it to unclench.

 

In.

Tick.

Out

Tock. 

In.

Tick.

Out.

Tock.

 

A loud screeching sound and my eyes pop open.

 

Darkness.  I hold my breath.  The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention.

Confused, I look back at the clock on the mantle.

 

Two O’Six.

 

I have been asleep for almost two hours.

 

Something woke me.

 

What was it?  I try and focus, remembering the screech.  Must have been a dream.  I let my eyes close over my dry eyes, anxious to ease back into my slumber before I wake up too much and miss that small window of falling back to sleep.

 

A door slams.  A car door.  My eyes flutter.  That wasn’t a dream.

 

I check the clock again, thinking I read it wrong the first time.  Still Two O’Six.

Someone is here.  No time for a visit from friends.

 

Roman must be home.

 

Waiting,  I watch the front door knob.  Seconds later, it begins to turn.

 

And my disheveled husband stumbles in.

 

He fumbles with his keys, trying to get them out of the lock on the door, forgetting in the process that he is carrying his unzipped black Salem PD duffel bag stuffed with several days worth of dirty laundry and a half-empty, economy size bottle of Gin.  It takes all of about three seconds for me to realize he is three sheets to the wind.

 

“Please tell me you didn’t drive home in this condition, Roman.” He literally jumps, obviously not expecting me to be sitting in the dark watching him sneak in, trashed out of his mind.

 

“Shit, Doc!  You scared me!”

 

“How did you get home?”

 

“I drove.”

 

“Roman-“

 

“Don’t start in on me, Marlena. I just got home.”

 

“Well what did you expect, Roman? You can’t even walk straight.”

 

“What did I expect?? I expected you to be in bed.  I expected you to be sleeping.  Hell I don’t know….I expected that if by some small chance, you were awake – you wouldn’t be in such a foul mood and might greet me like a wife who had actually missed her husband!”    I immediately recognize the crescendo in his slurred words.

 

“Please don’t raise your voice.  You’ll wake the children.”

 

“The children?”

 

“Yes, the children.  Your children?  The ones you sent packing with a one-way ticket to Colorado.”

 

“How did they get here?”

 

“John went and got them for me.”

 

“I see.”  His eyes are cold as he stares across the dark room at me.  I notice now they are bloodshot as well.  And as he steps closer, I am suddenly hit by the stench of stale cigar smoke, fish, and liquor as it escapes through his pores, mixing with his sweat to form a lethal combination.  I feel my stomach churn, obviously in protest to the foreign smell.  I will away the queasiness, determined to stand my ground.  He staggers across the room towards the kitchen, muttering a constant stream of profanities.

 

“Roman, I asked John to go get them.” He turns suddenly, catching even himself off guard and reaching up towards the mantle to steady himself.

 

“And I am sure he was all too ready and willing to fly off on his big private jet and rescue them!  Am I right???”

 

I don’t even bother to answer him.  It is pointless. He is drunk.  And on Gin, no less.  A drunken binge on Gin coupled with Roman’s temper – oil and water are a better suited combination.

 

“Answer me, Dammit!  AM I RIGHT??”

 

“Roman, please, calm down, honey. You are going to scare the kids.”

 

“Oh, Because John never screamed while they were sleeping.  John NEVER scared the kids! He never got angry, did he, Doc?.  John Black NEVER yelled, or cussed, OR sent them away.  Because  he was a FUCKING SAINT!! John Black – He never woke them up in the middle of the night because when he was shitfaced and pissed off!  Oh No!  Let’s all Thank God for John Fucking Black!  What would we ever do without him??  Because he was such a Wonderful Father to MY KIDS…And such a terrific lover to MY WIFE!!   Because thanks to him, you never went unsatisfied…Right?  Because John Black fucked YOU.  In MY House!  In MY BED! GODDAMMIT!!!!”

 

The blur of his hand barely registers in my brain as he grabs hold of the case holding our wine goblets off the mantle, violently slinging it through the air.

 

Glass shatters around me as the wooden box slams into my head, immediately slicing and splintering through my skin.  I stumble backwards, my hands cutting into the crystal shards that lay scattered across the floor.  I brace myself for another onslaught.

 

But there is only silence.

 

I can only open one eye.  The other is swollen shut.  I watch as Roman slides down the wall,  crumbles to the ground in a heap, and begins to sob to the same beat as the clock on the mantle.

 

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock

Tick

Tock. 

 

I try to stand up but dizziness sweeps through me like a tidal wave, bringing me back to the ground.  Clutching on to the arm of the couch, I try pulling myself up again.  The throbbing in my head and eye intensifies and I reach up towards the source of the pain.  The touch of my hand against the open wound almost sends me reeling.  I jerk my hand back and see it is covered with warm sticky blood.  I can feel it now as it oozes out of the cut, leaving a trail down my cheek.

 

Fighting to stand, I notice a shadow moving against the wall of the stairwell.

Squinting with my one good eye,  I peek through the blur of blood.

 

It is Sammi.  Sitting on the top step of the stairs, her arms wrapped around her knees, she is rocking herself back and forth, crying softly, her eyes squeezed shut in fear.

Eric stands behind her, his hands balled in fists, his eyes full of hatred as he stares across the room at his father

 

“Sammi, honey, it’s Mommy.  I’m ok. Look at me, Baby Girl.”

 

I once again try to stand up but the room tilts to the left, pulling me with it, and I stumble sideways and fall again, my hand landing on another shard of broken glass.

 

Shit!

 

I refuse to pass out, Dammit!

 

I crawl to the bottom of the steps, reaching upwards towards my children.  Sammy’s’ eyes flutter open and the raw fear in her tear-stained eyes hits me right in the gut, forcing a deep heave from my stomach straight up to my throat.

 

Closing my mouth, I swallow the sour taste of bile-tinged vomit.

 

I keep going.

 

I crawl upwards, struggling to stay conscious as I slowly climb the stairs to my babies.

Finally I manage to get to the top.

 

“Mommy, you’re bleeding.”

 

“Mommy’s ok.  I’m ok, Baby Girl.”

 

My arms wrap around her, staining her white nightgown with blood from my hands.

There are glass slices up and down my arms.

 

I can feel the slow but constant oozing of blood from my head.

 

My head sways but I fight against the blackness that is mercilessly threatening to pull me under.

 

Reaching up, I grab hold of Eric’s balled fist, pulling him down to sit at my side.

 

Sitting in the dark, unable to move any further, I wrap my babies in my embrace, trying desperately to shield their eyes from any more tragedy.

 

I know this horrible memory is going to be etched in their precious minds for years and years to come.

 

Just as vivid as the memory of their father, now seemingly oblivious to our presence,  as he carefully stands up, staggers across the floor of broken glass, and picks up the half empty bottle of gin and gulps down the rest before stumbling and tripping his way out the front door.

 

I focus on the ticking of the clock to keep my awake.

 

Tick

Tock.

Tick

Tock.

Tick

Tock.

Tick

Tock.

 

And with the slam of a door and the screech of tires, he is gone in the same manner in which he arrived.

 

****************************************************************************************************

My eyes pop open.  The hair on the back of my neck stands up.  My sixth sense is wide awake.  Something is wrong.  I stand up immediately, hurrying to Brady’s room to check on him.  He is perfectly fine, sleeping like an angel.

 

I splash some water on my face and slide open the door to the loft, looking for any sign of danger.  Nothing outside to cause any alarm.

 

Inside, I turn the lights on and look down at my watch.  Two Thirty.

 

Now wide awake, I stretch out on the couch and turn the television on ESPN…

 

The phone rings and I grab it immediately.

 

“John Black.”

 

Silence on the other end.  Except for the muffled sound of breathing.

 

“Hello……………Anybody there?”

 

“John??”  Eric’s small voice calls out on the other end, barely above a whisper.

 

“Eric?”

 

“You told me to call you if anything was wrong.  You gave me your number.  You said I could call you if we needed you.”

 

“Eric, Son, what’s wrong?  Bad dream?”

 

“No.  Come get us. Something is wrong.”

 

“Eric, is it Mommy? Is she sick?  Is she ok?”

 

“I don’t know, Daddy.  She is downstairs. Something bad happened, Daddy—I mean John.”

 

“Eric, let me talk to Marlena!”

 

“I can’t go down there. I’m scared.”

 

“Eric don’t move.  I’m on my way. Call 911 Eric. OK? Can you do that for me? I need you to call the police.”

 

“O.k. John.  Please hurry.”  Grabbing Brady and running to the car, I flash through every possible scenario.  Marlena is dead.  She is sick.  She is dying.  Dammit!  I knew something was wrong.  I knew she needed to go to the doctor!

 

Brady screams out in protest when he is jerked out of his slumber only to be hastily fastened into his car seat.

 

Cranking up the car and flooring the gas, I manage to reach sixty-five in less than fifteen seconds.

 

Veering into oncoming traffic, I pass the cab going 45 and jerk the steering wheel back into my lane.

 

Seventy-Five.

 

Brady’s screams reach a fevered pitch.

 

My speedometer reaches eighty-five and I shift gears and continue to press on the gas.

Ninety-five.

 

The flash of blue lights is behind me now.

 

One Hundred and Five.

 

My heart races and I feel the sweat trickle down my face.

 

‘Dear God, please let them be ok.  Please God.  PLEASE!’  When I turn onto my old street, more flashing lights appear coming from the opposite direction.  I manage to get out of the car faster than the police, and scream behind me for someone to get Brady out of the car.

 

Throwing open the door, with Salem’s finest right behind me, I storm inside.

 

It is pitch black.  “Marlena??   Sammi??   Eric??”

 

Flipping the light switch, I scan the room for the source of danger.

 

Shattered glass covers the floor.

 

Blood stains are smeared on the couch.

 

A black duffel bag and clothes are strewn about the room.

 

An empty bottle of liquor lies at the bottom of the stairs.

 

And handprints of blood lead step by step up the stairs…to where Marlena sits, covered in blood,  holding on to her children for dear life.

 

The police quickly disperse through the house in search of the culprit.

 

And I lunge up the stairs and grab hold of them, squeezing them, softly reassuring them that I am here, and nothing is going to happen to them now.

 

Marlena wearily gazes up at me, obviously in a state of shock, half-delirious.

 

“John….How did You get here?”

 

Her eyes are fuzzy… out of focus.

 

She smiles up at me in relief.  “Thank you, John” she says softly, and then her head falls over to the side as she goes limp in my arms out.

 

Sammi begins to cry.  “Sssshhhhh, it’s ok Sammi. It’s ok Baby Girl.  I’m here.  Are you hurt?” She nods her head No.

 

I continue to reassure her as I shake Marlena gently, trying to rouse her.  I can’t tell what’s wrong with her! What is WRONG with HER??

 

The blood is everywhere.

 

Her face is red – covered in dried blood

 

Her arms are cut up.  Her hands.  Her feet.

 

The twinners pajamas are covered in her bloody handprints.

 

“Where??? Dammit, WHERE IS ALL OF THIS BLOOD COMING FROM? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER??”

 

Eric finally speaks.  “My Dad did this to her.”

 

His eyes glass over as he stares at me before swallowing hard and squeezing his hands into fists.  Standing there over his bloody unconscious Mother and his terrified twin sister, fists balled, he stares me straight in the eyes and speaks slowly to me in a voice that is eerily calm and collected.  “If he ever hurts my Mommy again, I will kill him John.”

 

A lone tear snakes down his cheek.

 

“So will I, Eric.     So.       Will.         I.”

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

Cruisin’ for a Bruisin’

 

Doc.  Wake up Doc.  Marlena can you hear me baby? Sweety, wake up.  Honey? Baby? I need you to open your eyes Darling. Come on. Try Hard.  Come one Doc. Listen to me, Baby.  Listen to my voice.  Open those eyes for me Please. Please Baby?

 

The words flutter around outside my head like butterflies trapped in a jar.

I concentrate on the sound of John’s voice.

 

Why does he sound so scared.  What’s wrong?  Why can’t I wake up?  And what the hell is that constant banging on my forehead.  A hammer?  In my skull?

 

Come on Baby.  Open your eyes.  Talk to me, Doc. Marlena? Can you hear me Baby?

I am moving now. I feel myself moving.  I feel John’s arms beneath me.  His breathing is ragged.  He is carrying me.  Running.  Yelling.

 

And sirens. I hear sirens. And voices.

 

And the hammer in my head keeps tapping.

 

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

 

Tapping on my brain – like a metronome – a hammer, tapdancing straight through to my skull.

 

John’s tight embrace loosens and I feel myself being laid down on a flat surface.

Unrecognizable voices.

 

Two or three of them, all speaking to John at the same time.

 

“Mr Black, we need you to step back.”

 

<p>“Let us do our job, Mr. Black.”</p>< p>“Mr Black, we need you to let go of the stretcher.”</p> Panic grips hold of me.  One eye flutters open.  What is wrong with my other eye?

 

Why are there so many flashing lights?  John?  Where is John?  I turn my head to the side and pain rips through my head as the hammer in my skull slices through me.

 

“JOHN.”

 

I try to make his face come into focus but I can’t because of the constant tapping on my skull.

 

“Doc! Baby! I’m here. I’m right here.”

 

I am awake. I did it! I am awake!

 

“John…My head…Something is in my head.  Make it stop tapping.”

 

I see his eyes shoot over to the strange men.

 

He doesn’t understand me.  He can’t understand what I am talking about.

I try to sit up so that I can show him.

 

As I lift my head, I begin to sway side to side from the dizziness.

 

I try to hold my head up but it feels like one big bobble-head, waving to and fro.

 

John’s face fades out of focus again as I feel myself being violently jerked forward.

 

Wet Hot Vomit Splashes against my skin and I wonder where it is coming from.

 

Then as my body heaves forward and the second stream of vomit spews forth, I realize it is coming from me.

 

TICK!  

TOCK!

TICK

TOCK!

 

God, would somebody please get rid of the damn clock?

 

“John?”

 

“Right here, baby. I’m right here.”

 

“I need you to stop it.”

 

“Stop what, Doc?”

 

“Stop the clock, John.”

 

“What, Baby?”

 

“The hammer. In the clock..”

 

“Marlena I don’t understand you Baby! Tell me again. Baby, tell me what to do.”

 

“Stop the Tick Tock.  Please make it stop. It’s hurting me.  The Hammer. The tapping. Turn it off!  Make it stop John!!.  Jesus Christ! Could you please STOP THE FUCKING CLOCK!!??”

 

John screams and the strange men.

 

I recognize the sound in his voice– sheer and total panic

 

He doesn’t understand what is wrong.

 

He doesn’t understand how to help me.

 

“Do something Dammit! HELP HER!!”

 

The strange voices fade in again.

 

“Sir, we need you to move! Sir Step Back.  Mr Black, Let GO OF THE STRETCHER!”

 

I focus on his face again, only to see him start to fade away.

 

“JOHN! NO! Don’t Go!”

 

“Marlena, I have to let them help you.”

 

“Don’t leave me John!”

 

“Doc, Baby, they are taking you to the hospital.  I am right behind you.”

 

“JOHN! I’m scared, John.”

 

I struggle against the foreign hands working on me, finding veins, poking, prodding, and pushing me away from John.

 

“It’s going to be ok, baby.  Just let them help you.”

 

“Don’t leave me, John. Please! Don’t leave me.  Nooo! Please don’t!  You promised you’d never leave me!  Pleeaaassseee Johnnnnn Noooooo….”

 

And then silence.

 

The ticking is gone.

 

The clock is gone.

 

Something cold is in me.

 

Like Juice.

 

Numbing Cold Magic Juice swimming through my veins…

 

Across my wrist.

 

Up my arm…

 

Along my chest.

 

All the way down to my Toes.

 

Oh My God it feels like Heaven.

 

Heaven???

 

Shit!!

 

Did I die??

 

I feel much too delicious to scream anymore.

 

I try to open my eye to see if there is a white light.

 

Why do I only have one eye now??

 

Is this Heaven??

 

It certainly feels like Heaven..

 

I open my eye and the strange men are even blurrier now. “John…Am I dead John?”

 

“Mrs. Brady…you aren’t dead.  We gave you some medicine in your IV.  Just let it work. Just sleep.  You are going to be fine.  You are in the ambulance. I am a paramedic.  We are going to take good care of you.  Now just rest.”

 

“John? Where is John?” I mumble, trying to fight against the tingling numbness that threatens to take me away.

 

“Mr. Black is in his car.  He is following us to the hospital.”

 

And another cold wave of the happy juice enters my wrist, slipping and sliding up my arm.

 

And this time it floats straight up to my skull, finally killing the hammering clock.

 

A gush of air escapes my dry parched lips.

 

“There.  That should help with your head, Mrs. Brady.”

 

“Oh My…”  Surely I am dead now. The pain is all gone.

 

“Do you feel any better now, Mrs. Brady?”

 

“Better…Much Better…”

 

“Good. Now try to rest.”

 

“John? Where is John? I forgot.”

 

“He is following us to the hospital in his car.”

 

“Hospital? Is he sick?”

 

“No, Mrs. Brady.  He is not sick.  Mr. Black is just fine.”

 

“He certainly…is…”

 

“He will be here soon.”

 

“Mr Black will be here soon?”

 

“Yes, he will be here soon.”

 

“He is just fine?“

 

“Yes, Mrs. Brady.  He is just fine.”

 

“Mr. Black is just fine….I love him, you know?”

 

“Ma’m try to sleep.”

 

“Mr. Black…. I love him….And he is just fine…Did you know that I love Mr. Black?”

 

“I know you do, Mrs. Brady. Try to rest.”

 

“He loves me too, you know?  Mr. Black…. He loves me too

….”

“I know, Mrs. Brady. I know he does.  Now sleep, OK?”

 

“Sleep??”

 

“Yes Mrs. Brady…… Sleep……You will see Mr. Black soon.”

 

“Soon?  John…..Real soon?”

 

“Ssshhhhhh…..”

 

And just like a baby, I drift away towards the white fluffy cloud of pillows floating through the sky…To Wait For John….Who Is Just Fine…

 

I let myself float away as I listen to the yummy sound of white noise coming from the strange man’s lips as he shushes me to sleep – the one who knows that I love John…the one who knows that John loves me…

 

****************************************************************************************************

Beeeeep.

Beeeeep

Beeeeep

Beeeeep

Beeeeep

Beeeeep.

 

I open my eyes.  I can’t see anything out of one of them.  Pitch black.

 

Through the other one I stare straight up into a fluorescent light bulb on the ceiling.

Scanning the room without moving, it takes very little time to figure out I am in a hospital bed.  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see John, sitting in a chair.  He is dozing.

 

My throat is dry.

 

My skin itches.

 

And my forehead throbs, a constant deep throbbing right above my left eye. Reaching up, towards the source of the pain, my bandaged hands come in contact with a sterile patch covering my left eye and a bandage wrapped around my forehead.  Oh this is just Great!.

 

I clear my throat, trying to find my voice.

 

John stirs.

 

“Doc?”

 

“John.”

 

“How do you feel, baby?”

 

“Terrible.”

 

“Can I get you anything?”

 

“Water.    Please.”  I watch John as he stands up and pours me a cup of water, sticks a straw into then brings it up to my parched cracked lips.  The first taste is cold…so cold.  It feels delicious sliding down my throat.  I quickly tug the straw harder with my lips, pulling more of the cold wet ice water inside my mouth.

 

“Better?”

 

“Mmmhmmm.”

 

“Good. Anything else, Baby?”

 

“Where are the twins?”

 

“They are at Victors.  He came to the hospital and got them and Brady about three hours ago.”

 

“Why are they at Victors?”

 

“Because it is the only place I was sure they could go that they wouldn’t be subjected to seeing Roman.”

 

“Roman?”

 

“Yes.  Roman…Last Night…Doc, do you remember what happened?”

 

“No I —–“   Then the memories slowly fade into view…although distant and hazy.

 

The sounds of screaming…the smell of Gin…the hatred in Roman’s voice as he yells at the top of his lungs…..his muffled sobs…the fear in my children’s eyes…the relentless sound of the tick tock from the the clock on the mantle…the wooden box slamming into my head…the flashing lights, the  blood – Dear God-so much blood.

 

Everything is jumbled and out of order.  But even jumbled up, the images paint a pretty clear picture as to what happened.  “I remember bits and pieces.  Not everything.”

“You were unconscious but only for a little while.  Doc, Baby, I am so proud of you.”

 

“Me?   Why?”

 

“Because you were so strong for the twinners, Baby.  You managed to stay away awake until I got there.”

 

“You? There? How?”

 

“Eric called me.  He said he heard Roman screaming downstairs.  He was scared.  By the time I got there and the police got there, Roman was gone.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Doc, the police are waiting outside. They want to talk to you.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Well..Babe…I think it is probably to get your statement.  They will need to make a police report.  I imagine as soon as you let them know you want to press charges, they can find Roman and arrest him. ”

 

“No.”

 

“What do you mean ‘No’?”

 

“I want to talk to Roman.”

 

“You WHAT??”  John stands up, confused and angry with me.

 

“You heard me John.  I want to talk to Roman.  Not the police.”

 

“Marlena, have you lost your mind??”

 

“No John, I haven’t.  Please calm down.  I have had my fill of male testosterone in the last few hours.”  I watch him as he paces back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, trying to hold his temper in check.

 

“Doc,Listen to me Baby.  You could have been hurt so much worse…the kids – they could have been hurt…When I think of what all could have happened—“

 

“But it didn’t, John.  Now, I want to see the Doctor so that I can get some release papers signed and get out of here.”

 

“Marlena, you aren’t going anywhere.”

 

“Yes, John. I am.  Now, please get Mike – is he the doctor on staff? Get my doctor in here so I can discuss my condition and get out of here.”

 

“And then what?”

 

“I am going to find Roman.”

 

“Oh the HELL you are!”

 

“I am not going to fight with you about this.  Now I appreciate everything you have done.  More than you will ever know.  As always, I don’t know what I would do without you.  But that doesn’t change the fact that I am a grown woman who can make up her own decisions and I am fully capable of dealing with my husband.  On. My. Own.  Without the Police.  And Without You.”

 

****************************************************************************************************

She has lost her freaking mind!

 

What in the hell is she thinking??

 

There is no way on earth that I am going to just stand by and let Roman get away with this! She wants to deal with Roman alone? Over my dead body.

 

After finding Mike and letting him know that Marlena is awake and asking for him, I make a quick call to check on Brady and the twinners.

 

Then I do the only thing that I can – I head off in search of Roman.

 

The Pub is my first stop.

 

Caroline is at the bar.  “John, are you ok? You look upset.”

 

“Where is Roman?”

 

“What?”

 

“Roman? Where the hell is he?”

 

“He called a little while ago.  He is back in town and should be stopping by anytime.  Is something wrong??”

 

“You tell me, Caroline.  Marlena is in the hospital with a concussion compliments of your son.  Now I want you to tell me where he is and I want you to do it NOW.”

 

“A concussion? Marlena? What? What happened?”

 

“Ask your son.”

 

“John I don’t know where Roman is. He just called and said he would be here around lunch.  I just assumed he was at the station or at home.”

 

“Then I guess I will just have to wait.”

 

“John, Look, you are obviously upset.”

 

“Damn Right I am Caroline!”

 

“But I think it would be best for everyone if you just cooled off and went home.  When Roman gets here, I will tell him you were here.”

 

“Wrong!”

 

“John, there is no way that Roman would ever have done anything to hurt

Marlena.  Obviously there is some horrible mistake here.”

 

“The only horrible mistake here is that your son is walking around town and going about his business as if everything was Hunky Fucking Dory.”

 

“John, I am afraid I am going to ask you to leave.”

 

“Get me a beer, Caroline.”

 

“I am not getting you a beer, John. I am this close to getting you a police escort out of this establishment.”

 

“Oh, isn’t that just Dandy!  You are going to throw me out? Of the establishment that I bought and paid for?”

 

“We don’t want any trouble here, John.” When Caroline reaches for the phone, I grab her wrist, squeezing with a little more force than I intend.

 

“Let’s get one thing straight, Caroline. The Only police officer you are going to be calling is your Son.” Caroline starts to cry.

 

“John I told you I don’t know where he is.”

 

“Then I will wait.”

 

Grabbing the nearest chair, I angle it towards the door and prop my boots up on the table.

 

I am fuming.

 

Somewhere deep in the back of my head, a nagging voice warns me that leaving would probably be a wise decision about now.

 

My hands are trembling with rage, itching for an outlet.

 

It is no secret to anyone that once I snap, there is no turning back.

 

Not to mention the fact that Marlena is going to be furious if I cause any trouble.

But she is obviously not thinking clearly right now.

 

She is scared.

 

She is alone.

 

She is hurting.

 

And Roman is the cause of that.

 

I swore I would always protect her.

 

And that is exactly what I intend to do.

 

Consequences be damned.

 

So I wait.

 

And wait.

 

And wait.

 

And the longer I wait, the angrier I get.

 

Images of Doc bleeding and crying at the top of those stairs, of little Eric staring up at me with eyes full of rage when he said he would kill his father if he ever hurt his mother again – flashbacks of Marlena vomiting on the stretcher while she rants about a hammer in a damn clock – I welcome these images – I feed off them …I wallow in them – letting them fuel my rage like gasoline on a burning fire.

 

I am going to kill that Fucking Son of A Bitch!!

 

The door to the Pub swings open.

 

Bo walks in first.

 

Behind him, Roman saunters in.  He barely even sees me coming.  Kicking the table out of my way, I lunge across the bar and shove Bo out of my line of fire.

 

Roman’s eyes widen in shock as I barrel towards him, grabbing him by his jacket collar and slinging him across the nearest table..

 

As he flies across the table, it collapses beneath him, and chairs go flying in several different directions.

 

Gasps and screams of shock and fear reverberate through the Pub; people scatter towards safety, and that nagging little voice warns me yet again –  ‘Walk Away’.

But I fail to heed the warning.

 

I figure I have about twenty seconds before Bo and the other bystanders pull me off of him.

 

Twenty Whole Seconds– PLENTY of time to beat this Spineless FuckFace to a Bloody Goddamm Pulp!

 

Eighteen More Seconds– I pick his scrawny ass up and sling him up against the wall.

 

Sixteen More Seconds – I jerk him up and sling him back against the wall again, this time holding on to him so that I can slam his head up against the wood

 

Fifteen More Seconds– Holding him up by the polyester cotton of his faded flannel shirt, my right fist connects with his left eye.

 

Thirteen More Seconds – Sticky Warm Blood spurts forward like a fountain, pouring down his face.

 

Eleven More Seconds– Bo is screaming, grabbing hold of my right arm and jerking it backwards.

 

Nine More Seconds– With my free left hand, I grab hold of the back of his neck, jerking him down against my boot as it connects with his gut.

 

Seven More Seconds– I have about three more men pulling me backwards – restraining me

 

Six More Seconds– Two more Licks – I just need two more good licks and I will be satisfied.

 

Four More Seconds– I jerk free from my restrainers as Roman falls forward, his body limp against my chest.

 

Three More Seconds– Grabbing him by his curls, I jerk his head up, slamming my forehead against his own. God that felt so fucking Good!

 

Two More Seconds– Almost out of time – Going to have to make this one count.  Gripping hold of his neck, I rare back and throw every ounce of strength I have into a right hook that falls dead center in the middle of his mouth.

 

One More Second– Hearing the sound of cracking teeth, I drop him to the ground, holding my hands up in the air as I back away towards the door.

 

Every shell shocked set of eyes are focused on me, waiting to see what the hell I am going to do next.

 

Times Up–  I’m done.

 

Staring at Bo, I gesture towards Roman. “Looks like he’s going to need some ice, Bo.”

 

Standing at the doorway, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet and toss a fifty dollar tip on the one table near me that is left standing.

“I suggest you keep that bastard away from Marlena.…Oh, and Caroline, please send me a bill for the damage.”

 

Feeling much better about the whole situation, I walk out the door, climb in my car, and head back to the hospital to check on Marlena

 

****************************************************************************************************

I have listened to Mike lecture me for the past fifteen minutes about the dangers of leaving the hospital in my condition.

 

It appears as if I have a severe concussion, a lacerated eye, numerous cuts, scrapes, and abrasions, and my blood pressure is elevated.

 

Looking over my chart, Mike lets he me know he wants me in the hospital under observation for at least 48 hours.

 

“Look Mike, I understand your concern.  Really, I do.  But I am not just ‘any’ patient.  I am a member of the medical profession.  I am a colleague of yours.  You can trust me to take care of myself – at home.”

 

“Can I, Marlena?” He flips through my chart.

 

“Of course you can, Mike.  What would make you think otherwise?”

 

“When you were brought into the hospital last night, you were also suffering from dehydration.”

 

“I was?”

 

“Yes you were.  John said you had been vomiting for the past week,”

 

“A stomach bug.  That’s all.  Haven’t been able to keep much down.  But I am much better now.”

 

“Oh you are, are you?”

 

“Of course I am, Mike.  Why would I lie to you?”

 

“I don’t know, Marlena.  You tell me.”

 

“What is there to tell, Mike?  Why are you looking at me so funny?”

 

“Marlena, I don’t have to tell you this – I know that you are aware that I am privy to ALL of your test results – that I am fully aware of your medical condition when you walked into this hospital – and that everything regarding your condition will be kept confidential.”

 

“Test Results? Condition?? Mike, what are you talking about?”

 

“Marlena, I am talking about the blood test you were given when you checked in…Are you not aware that you are pregnant?”

 

My stomach drops out from under me.

 

Pregnant.

 

And suddenly it all makes sense.  The mood swings, the vomiting, the physical exhaustion, the heightened since of smell, the bleeding gums when I brushed my teeth, the hormones – Good God, could the signs have been any clearer??

I am pregnant.

 

I am carrying a child.

 

And I have a fifty-fifty shot of guessing correctly as to who the father is.

I don’t whether to laugh or cry.

 

Christ Almighty.

 

Could this day possibly get any worse??