Dead Marriage
You know how you hear of those stories where the woman goes into her husband's bedroom closet and finds lipstick on his collar, or she catches the suspicious scent of perfume lingering on his clothes that indicates her husband has been cheating on her and doing the nasty with some other woman on the side?
Well, my story isn't quite like that. No, actually, it's different. My husband isn't being unfaithful to me. But something worse. Far, far worse- in my books, anyhow.
We've been literally screwing each other over for years, and neither one of us even realized. Until this morning, of course.
It all started the same as it usually did. We have a pretty adventurous sex life. We like to keep it spontaneous and exciting. And, well... this morning, it was no different. We always have the alarm clock set to go off two hours early before we both got to get to work, which was convenient for us, because we liked to schedule early morning rounds of sex, just to make the start of the day that more tolerable until we got to see each other again once we finished work.
Well, when the alarm clock went off incessantly this morning at six thirty, my husband was pretty much AWOL on my butt. I tossed and turned in the sheets, and it was an extremely rude awakening to find my honey was not beside me. All there was, was wrinkled empty sheets and no husband of mine.
So, grudgingly, I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, shivering away in my thin lace nightgown. And what did I find there? Thank heavens, my hubby was just leaning down over the bathtub and halfway through filling it up with nice and warm water. The entire bathroom was steamy and misty, and my husband was only dressed in his stripy pyjama bottoms and no shirt. Our bathtub is luckily spacious enough for two people to sit in, so I knew right there and then what his intentions were for us this morning. And, I couldn't have been more the merrier. A hot bath to waken yourself up was just the right thing you needed of an early morning at six.
I stood resting against the door frame for a while, admiring my husband's physique. I often wondered how I got so lucky to have a husband like Eric Northman. We'd been married for over five years now, and we were still growing strong. Five year itch? Five year... carnal bliss, more like it. I had met Eric while holidaying in Amsterdam. He knew the place real well, since he practically grew up there. Hearing him talking fluently in Swedish- hell, I think that sealed the deal, right from the get-go. After about five minutes of standing around, he turned and finally looked at me.
He held out his hand towards me. "How about a bath, Mrs. Northman?" And like he needed to ask that!
I smiled up at him eagerly, and pulled up my nightgown over my body. I flung it on the tiles, and then unclasped my bra and slipped out of my panties. He made a deep noise of appreciation, and it sparked a wild fire within my body. I loved the way he looked at me, like I was most sexiest and incredible woman he had ever laid eyes on.
I finally took his hand, and when he bid me to step into the bathtub still running with warm water, I did so without hesitation. I stepped in with both feet, until I felt hot searing water sting at my ankles.
"A little too hot?" he asked knowingly. I nodded, and he bent down to run more cold water into the tub. "Sit down, honey," he muttered softly. "It'll cool down in just a second."
I scooted down into the water, more than happy to. Of course, at first, it was still a little too hot on my bare skin. But, just as he said, the cold water running eventually evened it out.
I closed my eyes briefly over the soothing warm water, and laid my head back against the edge of the tub. When I reopened them to glance up at him, he was gazing down at me, his expression full of hot desire for me. "How about you get in here and join me? We both know the tubs big enough for two." It was a bit silly to ask, but I knew he would have, anyway. At least, he would have eventually.
"I will in a bit, Sookie."
He knelt down and turned off the taps, and then sat beside me on the linoleum floor. I didn't know why it didn't come across as a bit funny to me, but it honestly didn't at the time. I thought he was just being a considerate husband. I never thought anything else into it.
He reached across me for the bar of soap, and wet his hands before lathering it up between them into a foamy, light texture. And then he let the bar of soap splash into the water at my toes, and brought his hands up to my shoulders. I had always loved Eric's hand, too. Masculine hands. Big, strong hands. Hands that constantly gave me sweet caresses and loving. I learned that there was so much more those hands were capable of this morning. Those hands of his were also capable of wicked, ghastly things.
He started to rub his hands up around my shoulders, and my neck. At first, it had felt like a wonderfully relieving massage, with those strong fingers of his stroking around the back of my neck firmly. And then, gradually, the pressure of his fingertips started getting firmer and firmer. Not in a bad way, of course, at first. I thought it felt very nice. I was moaning, panting, and gasping for air. His hands always felt good on me. He started kneading them around my collarbone area, and I couldn't help wriggling around in the warm water and arching my neck.
And then, I felt him get down on his knees, and shift until he was behind me. We were both breathing unevenly at this stage. I guess him touching me, and my reaction to his touching made him all hot and bothered himself. "How could you not tell me, Sookie?" he whispered in my ear, and his teeth gently grazed my earlobe. I didn't think much of it then. Truth be told, I was hot and bothered myself. He's my husband. What can I possibly say? He does that to me... How can it be a sin when it's your husband?
"Hmmm?" I moaned in delight, closing my eyes tightly shut.
One of his hands glided down into the water, breaking the surface. I watched the way his muscular forearm flexed, as he searched his way with his hand underneath the water. I felt his hand push up in between my legs mercilessly, and he touched me... right there. His fingers stimulated me underneath the water, in the way he knew I liked best, and my back arched even more against the cold tub behind me, and my groan of pleasure was so loud then, it would have potentially woken the dead.
"Oh... please, honey," I whispered desperately. "You better get in the tub quickly before I drag you in myself." I needed him then. The need for him was almost agonizing.
"I think you've felt enough now. I have dragged this out long enough," he said, sounding just as aching with need as I was, and he stopped. Just like that, he took his hand out the water unfairly, just as I was reaching the pivotal moment. Turned out, that need he was experiencing was an entirely different thing altogether, than what my need was. "Do you realize how fucked up this?" he breathed harshly against my earlobe. "I have to find this out from work? Do you have any idea how difficult this is for me?"
I have to say, I still didn't understand just then. I couldn't understand at all. There was no comprehension whatsoever. Eric had been part of a lawyer firm for a little over four months now. He never told me much of what he did for a living, he would always make up excuses that it was too banal for him to talk about; A job such a bore it would put me to sleep the instance he started talking about it. Honestly, I never talked much about my profession, either. I made up some lousy excuse that I worked as a waitress, when I didn't. I was so much more than a barmaid that came home with bruises because she got hit on by drunken men. Those men weren't drunk, but they did so-happen to have hit on me, yes. They hit and beat on me in self-defence, that's all it was. Sure, I guess we both kept a lot of secrets to ourselves. We had our issues, but intimacy definitely sure wasn't one of them.
"Is it true?" he asked sharply. He grabbed my hand and placed it where he was behind me on his chest, right where his heart would be underneath his warm skin. His breathing quickened, much the same as mine. "Is it true, what they've actually said? You're not some fucking barmaid, are you? You're... more, aren't you?" He was panting, and I wasn't sure whether it was because he was still in the zone or because of something else. Fear over the truth.
I was afraid to tell him, of course I was. I didn't know how he would react to what my job truly entails. I wasn't a waitress who dedicated her time to serving people drinks or snacks late into the evening. What was I? My bosses name is Niall. When I met Eric in Amsterdam six or seven years ago, I was over there because I had been assigned to make a hit on a man who resided in De Baarsjes. And by making a hit, I mean by stabbing him in the throat, and getting twenty-five grand for accomplishing it. And, as it were, the hotel I was staying at, I had so-happened to meet Eric there. I had gone to make some good money in taking out someone, and what more I got instead, was a new boyfriend to take back home with me. A boyfriend I loved dearly, and now... that boyfriend was my husband, and that husband had somehow found out.
I had been very careful to keep my real profession in the dark. But somehow, Eric learned about it. How, I wasn't so sure. We had a code of confidentiality at the firm where I worked. It would not only be unethical of them to reveal it to my husband, but also illegal. So, how on Earth did he find out?
The panic rose inside of me. I was frightened at how he would see me now. I turned hastily in the tub and his met his eyes. What I saw in his expression, he looked just as panicked as I felt. And also angry. Anger dominated his expression. Betrayal, too. I know I had stuffed up in a big way, but why the betrayal?
I couldn't bare it. The way he looked at me. The love and tenderness that was there before was... absolutely gone. My hand was still resting on his bare chest, feeling all the warmth. I made to move my hand; I just had touch his face, comfort him somehow.
"Why were you in Amsterdam all those years ago? Tell me, Sookie! It couldn't have just been for vacation, I know that isn't it!"
"You're right. It wasn't just for vacation. But... in some way, it was."
He grabbed my face between his hands tightly. I tried not to flinch underneath his feral and angry gaze. "Tell me the truth," he exploded. "Who were you there to kill?"
My heart sank. He knew. Yes, he knew all right.
He twisted with his hands, until I fell back into the water against the tub. He pushed my head down, close, close to the surface of the water. I felt the fear then. He was either going to drown me, or just scare me into revealing it to him.
"All right, I wasn't just there for vacation!" I screamed. "I was assigned to kill a man there! I got money for it! I don't really work as a waitress, all right? I work in a firm that puts on hits on people! I've killed over five people!"
His eyes widened as he digested my words. And then he looked incredibly pained.
"Were you assigned to kill me, as well?"
"What? No! I... met you there, and I... I fell in love with you! That part of it is true!"
He pushed me underneath the water, until it rose up to my ear lobes, and I went deaf for a moment. I brought my hands up frantically to cup at his face, and he loomed over me over the bathtub, gazing down at my face. It was then I knew what was happening, and it didn't feel all that great to know what was impending between us.
He pushed my head deeper into the water. "Wait, just wait a second," I pleaded anxiously, my voice tumulus and wild. And wait, he did. "I thought you worked as a lawyer? How'd you know about this?"
"Because I've been lying all these years, as well. I'm the same as you! I was sent to Amsterdam for the very same reason you were! Have you checked your e-mails yet?"
"What? No! Why the hell would I?"
"Go." Finally, he released my head, and fell back onto his knees against the tiles. Drained and exhausted, was how he looked. "Go!" Scared half out of my wits, I climbed out of the tub and grabbed a fluffy white towel off the rack to cover over my naked body. And then I was running out into the bedroom to where the laptop was open and connected. Eric did not follow suit.
His e-mail was open.
NEW HIT, SIXTY THOUSAND DOLLARS, the opener said. I clicked it open with the mouse, and read the attachment with it.
My name came up: SOOKIE STACKHOUSE. VYING MEMBER OF COMPETING FIRM.
The world collapsed and fell at my feet, everything cascading around me. Jesus Christ. Five years of marriage, dead and gone. One of us had to die right now. Either me- or him. This was bad. I put my head in my hands. I knew my e-mail would have said the exact same thing. Sixty thousand dollars for killing Eric Northman. My husband. Now our jobs and marriage was colliding-literally. There was no way out of this. Either I kill him, or he kills me. No other possible solution. How could two people who believed they were so wholly in love know absolutely nothing about the real them?
"Sookie." He came in after a minute.
"This is a complete mess," I told him, turning to face him. I could tell by his face that he was terrified himself over the news, and what it meant for either one of us. And then it hit me like a wrecking ball. He had read his e-mail when he got up earlier this morning... he had called me into the bathroom... preparing a nice bath... grabbed my head... tried to drown me. Holy shit. He attempted to kill me! He was actually going to kill me, and follow through on orders! "Oh my God," I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth. I had a sudden urge to vomit. "That was what this was all about, the bath? You were going to drown me?"
He ran a hand through his hair and could only manage a shrug. And that was all I needed from him.
"You son of a bitch," I hissed, lashing out on him. "Your own damn wife, and you would have drowned me in the tub and got your money?" And then I did what I was good for, in catching him off-guard. I swung my shin around, with as much force as I possibly could, and managed to jab him in the kneecap. He got out a groan, and dropped to his knees, pained.
I stormed over to the closet to get dressed, ignoring him. I managed to pull a shirt over my bare body, and slid into some shorts. I was furious. Lethally furious. My husband attempted to drown me. So much for love and a committed marriage... How quickly we can turn on those we love, for greed and money. Just as I threw the damp towel on the floor and attempted to pass him, he threw out his ankle, and it got me good. I stumbled, and hit the carpet like a sack of potatoes. And then my husband was on top of my back, grabbing me by the hair and yanking my head around. My husband was a pretty strong and decent fighter, I learned then. But then again, so was I. I had to be to face what I was dealing with over the years.
My scalp was burning over my husband grabbing me by the hair and tugging at the damp long strands. I bent my elbow, took in a deep breath to steady myself, and whirled, managing to effectively clobber him in the face. He moaned gruffly and fell off me instantly, panting and cursing to himself.
"I loved you!" I screamed, getting another decent hit in.
"What? And I didn't, Sookie? I don't?"
Suddenly, his arms were around me, and he pushed me roughly underneath his chest. My hands went up into his hair, giving the hair-pulling back to him for all its worth. He gasped and swore underneath his breath in agony, his eyes tightly screwed shut above me and his face contorted in pain, and then his lips were on me, incessant and violent on my mouth.
This sure wasn't something any well-paid counsellor could fix. There was a real big spanner thrown into our marriage.