A.N.: I've reordered this first chapter to read a little more smoother, but I think it's important you know that after this chapter, the story switches to the past tense, as the history builds back to the present. Have a good one.
Angela sighed and sunk into the deep cushions of the living room couch. Pulling the chenille blanket over her lap, she switched on the television, pulling her socked feet onto the seat. It had been a depressing, slogging day at the college. So when her husband came to sit beside her, she employed his shoulder as another cushion.
He had the smell of acrid metal, and a sweaty sort of musk. Angela rolled his thick hand with her fingers and watched his dark brown eyes. They twinkled curiously at the television. She smiled, running her thumb up his palm.
"Hey Donnie," She spoke half into his shoulder, her playful eyes trained on his. He looked down at her, beginning to match her mischievous smile. "Wanna make out?"
He had to think for a moment. "Okay." His broad arms wrapped around her small body, pressing her back to the couch. She giggled, pulling his face to her and kissing him quickly. They followed with more, escalating into playful frenching. For about two delicious minutes until his timer went off on his belt. Grunting in displeasure, Donnie pulled back, removing a hand to tilt the beeper his way. He sat back and released Angela, turning the box off. "Work calls." He explained, frowning all over. She nodded and sighed as he stood, walking out of the living room.
Alone, she drew the blanket over her shoulders, sinking down before the wide screen television. It was already dark. The hours rolled by, until she was too tired of watching TV to stay any longer. Casting the blanket aside, and switching the television off, she made her way through the silent house.
A soft whirring came from below; she placed her hand against the basement door. Pushing it open, she began the careful descent down the ill-lit stairs. The steps creaked under the weight, and the noise stopped. She peeked over the railing to the pair of glimmering eyes in the computer screen's glow.
"Going to bed now." She said softly. "You coming?"
"In a minute." She nodded and headed upstairs. In her experience, a minute would stretch out likely until the early morning. Throwing her clothes into the hamper, she changed into a nightshirt and climbed into bed. Maybe to wait.
My name is Angela Stemming. This is my life. I'm a twenty-five year old teachers assistant living in California with my husband. And this will be the last sane night I'll have in a long time.
Sometime in the night a rustling of fabric ended the silence of the bedroom. Angela, who had been in a light sleep, stirred and turned on her side. Donald fumbled with his pants until they dropped to the ground. Indeed, he had stayed late in the lab, and was sneaking into bed in the middle of the night. Peeling off his old 'AC DC' tee shirt, he caught Angela awake.
"Sorry Angie." He crawled into bed. She rubbed her eyes, nodding.
"It's alright." The sheets rustled as she moved beside him, using his shoulder as a pillow again as he lay down. "I was already up."
"Mmm." His arm snaked around her. As they settled in place, he non-chalantly kissed her neck. Glad he wasn't going to pass out, she smiled and kissed him back. He smelled even more metallic, and she suspected he had had his hands in the chemical cleaners again. Her knee crossed over his, and rubbed between his legs. His hand came over to stroke her side. "You want to?" His voice failed to hide the hint of hopefulness. She kissed his chin, and around his jaw, allowing him to begin unbuttoning her shirt. "Is this why you stayed up?" He chuckled.
"I love it when you're smart." She breathed huskily, now much more awake. Climbing over his middle, she straddled his chest, the bed sheets falling down her back. Her fingers nimbly finished undoing her shirt, and she let it hang loose.
"Only then?"
"Only always." He grinned and ran his hand down her shoulders, pushing the shirt down her arms. "You know that." She caressed his face, till he pulled her down again to him. "Pooh bear."
"Angel face."
"Angel… hey, Angie," A gentle voice stirred the room. The sunlight had just begun to grow through the screen windows. Fighting back sleep, Angela opened her eyes, buried deep beneath the comforter. Donnie's face appeared over her, and he kissed her forehead. "Don't get up. I'm on my way out."
"Mmm." Her eyes fluttered. He pulled over a dark sweater and looked to her again. "What's wrong?" She could see a subtle discomfort over his face. He furrowed his brow.
"Probably nothing. Don't worry." He smirked reassuringly, turning toss his dirty clothes to the hamper. "I'm going to see the guys, help with their S-22. I'll put on the security system on my way out."
"Mmm." Only half awake, she nodded her assent.
"I'll be home soon." Donnie came back and kissed her goodbye, then he was gone.
"Kay." Angela mumbled, slipping deeper beneath the covers. It was the weekend, and she could sleep in as late as she liked. But half an hour later and still awake, she figured she might as well get up. Crawling out of bed, she pulled on jeans and tank top, and smoothed the bed sheets down. A term paper and bagel sounded like Saturday morning, and she went into the kitchen down the hall. Her black laptop sat poised on the counter.
The fresh flowers on the table called to her. She paused to smell them, cupping the muff of petals in her hand. A shifting shadow passed her peripheral vision. Expecting, hoping after Donnie's warning, to see Don or the guys, she turned with a smile. Which failed as four black figures appeared out of the living room.