Hey guys! I know I still have five chapters (and an extra chapter) pending in my other fanfic (An Addams Family Genesis), but I just saw this movie and it sparked some creativity from me. This fanfic is just one shot, and a bit more explicit than what I write. I am not sure if my description would be accurate, so if they are not, feel free to comment so that I can modify the chapter.
To set the story, this fanfic is based on the 60s sitcom, in the episode Green-Eyed Gomez, but I am imagining Anjelica Huston and Raul Julia as Morticia and Gomez. To be specific, this is set to be an explicit version of how Morticia and Gomez realized that neither of them was cheating on the other.
The first chapter is in Morticia's POV, while the second chapter is in Gomez's. Enjoy!
Morticia entered the library and saw Gomez holding Mildred close to his body. She halted abruptly and watched in horror the scene in front of her. She felt her knees buckling and she desperately clung onto the door frame of the library. Despite herself, she continued watching, while pain in her chest was growing stronger. The agony was exquisite, much like how it would have felt to pierce herself with ice pick repeatedly.
She watched as Mildred's blonde, permed hair almost touched the Oriental rug, and her hands delicately wrapped around Gomez's shoulders. If the way he was holding her was not enough, Morticia watched her husband lean closer to Mildred's ears, whispering what looked like words of passion. She gazed as she giggled at the feeling of his breath caressed her earlobe.
As he shifted and inched closer to Mildred's lips, Morticia knew she could bear any longer. She clutched the doorway, forced herself to turn around, and with much speed her deadened lower limbs could muster, she left and sought refuge inside the conservatory. There, she paced back and forth, wringing her hands to cast off what she saw.
It was futile. The more she paced, the more she felt the tears threatening to gush from her eyes. She stopped walking and looked for a handkerchief to dab her moist eyes. Beads of tears were already cascading down her cheeks when Thing popped out from his box near the bushes of strangling plants. It presented Morticia a piece of black cloth, which she gratefully took.
"Thank you, Thing," she merely choked out as she dabbed her tears away. Thing held out two fingers to signify that it was nothing. It went back inside its box and tapped out a message: What is happening?
"Gomez is… cheating," she managed to gasped out. Thing waved a hand as if to say, He wouldn't dare do that.
"Oh, Thing, but I saw him holding Mildred!" she almost cried. "And he…" she tried to say but did not manage to finish her sentence. "Am I unattractive, Thing?" The hand shook itself vehemently.
"Am I already old?" Thing shook itself once again.
"Am I boring?" For the third time, Thing shook itself.
"Then why is my husband cheating?" Again, the hand shook to dispute Morticia. "But what was it that I saw? Oh, do not bother answering that." She closed her eyes and forced herself to get a grip on her emotions. After several moments, opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and reached a resolution. "I will not let Gomez go so easily."
Thing mimed hair pulling. "No hair pulling," Morticia contradicted.
The hand mimed scratching. "Not even any form of cat fighting, Thing," she disagreed, shaking her head.
Thing, persistent of seeing a fight, mimed punching. "No, Thing. As long as I am the matriarch for this family, I will not condone violence in this roof. Do you understand that, Thing?"
Thing, though clearly disappointed, seemed to nod. "Very well," Morticia said. She straightened up and returned the piece of cloth back to Thing. "Now, Thing, I would like you to suggest to Uncle Fester and Mama to bring the children down to the dungeons for a couple of hours; you can go with them, Thing. If Lurch would allow himself to stay away from the candelabras, bring him to the dungeons as well. If not, he might as well sort out the junk in the attic.
"As for Mildred…" Morticia gracefully huffed and rolled her eyes in distaste. "Just ask her to purchase some new Oriental rug or something. Lionel is out with his business associates; hopefully he would be out for several hours." She turned to Thing. "Could you do all that, Thing?"
The hand put his forefinger and thumb together to form a circle. "Thank you, Thing. I know I can always count on you." Thing jumped back inside its box, closing the lid before he disappeared to its depths. Once he was gone, Morticia sighed and sagged on a nearby chair. However, before she could start planning or even process what she just witnessed, Mildred bounded to the conservatory, looking all blonde and perky.
"Mrs. Addams! There you are!" she cheerfully said, smiling with her gleaming teeth. "That freaky little hand told Mr. Addams that you needed me, so Mr. Addams told me to look for you. And I found you here!"
Morticia rested her forehead on her hand. She glanced sideways at Mildred. "Yes, I was indeed looking for you," she said coldly. "Cleopatra's food is almost depleted. I would like you to buy two kilograms of zebra meat and another two kilograms of yak meat, preferably lean. And while you're at it, look for some new Oriental rug. I despise the one inside Mr. Addams's office."
"Sure!" Mildred perkily replied. She stared at Morticia with big blue, sparkling eyes. It took all Morticia's effort to prevent herself from gouging those eyes, which were two hues lighter than hers. "Anything else?"
"Yes," Morticia answered dryly. "Stay out of my sight for several hours, would you?"
"Sure thing!" Mildred replied, completely missing the sarcasm and ire coursing through Morticia's voice. With a flip of her blonde hair, she turned around and left. Morticia decided to retreat upstairs and stood up to go. As she was about to leave the conservatory, she bumped into Gomez.
"Have you seen Mildred?" was his greeting. Morticia took a step back, hurt that her husband did not bother greeting her and proceeded with looking for Mildred. She stared at him in disbelief. He looked blankly at her, waiting for her response.
"I sent her downtown to buy a few things," she replied in a quiet voice.
"Oh," he said sounding disappointed. He shrugged. "Where is everybody?"
"In the dungeons," she answered, retaining the quietness in her voice. She could feel her husband's coldness towards her and she felt like she was being sliced into pieces with a blunt chainsaw.
"Well, I will be in the library," he said, not looking into her eyes. "When Mildred returns, would you send her to my office? I would like to give her a few words." He turned to leave.
"Words of passion?" she could not help herself from saying. He turned around to face her.
"I'm sorry?" he asked, sounding a bit defensive.
She did not reply immediately. She just stared at him, forcing him to look back at her, but he didn't. "Nothing," she finally said.
"Alright," he replied, turning again to leave. "Just send her to my office."
"I am not a servant whom you can command with anything, Gomez," she said. He stopped at his tracks and faced her again.
"I was not intending to imply that," he replied. To Morticia, it seemed as if he wanted to say something but was just stopping himself.
"Then do not command me as if I am one. I am the matriarch of this family."
"I do not need reminding. Never mind sending Mildred, I will look for her, myself." He turned to his heel and left, leaving Morticia with the feeling that nothing could salvage their marriage.
"After all these years?" she murmured in confusion. Thing, still inside its box, tapped a message of both encouragement and reminder for Morticia. It woke her up from her confusion. She remembered that just a few moments ago, she was determined to win her husband back. She lifted her head. "That I will do."
Inside their bedroom, Morticia went to the adjacent bathroom and opened the taps by the bath tub. Warm water slowly filled the tub and she stripped down. Still wearing nothing, she walked to the sink and opened the cabinet on top of it. She took out a bottle of makeup remover and several cotton balls, and gently removed the makeup she was wearing. Then, she returned the makeup bottle in the cabinet and studied the bath oils inside. She picked out the lavender scented one, which she knew was, by some unfathomable reason, Gomez's favorite.
Lavender was her least favored flower specie. However, she grew fond of it as it is Gomez's favorite scent. She rarely uses the lavender scent and reserved the consumption of it on special occasions. Obviously, this is one of those times.
Sitting on the edge of the bath tub, she poured generous amount of lavender oil to the almost overflowing steaming water. She returned the cap of the bottle and returned it in the cabinet before closing the taps and submerging the whole of her body, with the exception of her head and hair, into the bath.
Resting her head on the edge of the bath tub, she closed her eyes and reminisced on the good things about their marriage. She tried to see through each good thing to find the possible cracks in hers and Gomez's lives. Hard as she tried, she could not see anything. All she could remember were the glorious moments they shared, the sadness they turned to happiness, the arguments they resolved almost instantly.
Perhaps, it was time. Perhaps, the other people were telling the truth – that marriages grow stale over time, just like the food. But then again, they like stale food. And then there are wines that grow more delicious as time pass by. Perhaps Gomez is just confused.
She opened her eyes. Yes, her husband is just confused. And she will be the one to bring him back to his senses. She will remind him of the reason why they are married in the first place. She will remind him of the passion they shared.
Reaching for the robe carelessly thrown at the stool within her reach, she gracefully stood up and wrapped herself in the robe, not bothering to secure the loose knot of the robe sash, for she knew that Gomez was too antagonized with her at the moment to come to their room and see her wearing nothing. The though stopped her, that could not be a bad idea. She shook her head and stooped down to pull the plug from the drain. Then, she left the bathroom.
She padded barefoot across their bedroom and sat in front of her bureau. Morticia stared at herself, thinking of how she should put on makeup. She own nothing but dark shades of makeup, all of which Gomez has already seen on her. In addition to that, she knew no other way to put makeup except for the usual manner she put them on. Sighing, she decided that this was the perfect time to experiment.
She reached out for her self-made foundation powder and applied it from the top of her forehead, to her cheeks, to her chin, and down to the base of her neck. She was very pale that hardly the foundation made any difference. Next, she chose the darkest of her eyeliner pencils, for she wanted Gomez to notice each part of her. She carefully drew what looked like figures of seven over her eyebrows and brushed them to look as natural as possible.
She leaned closer to her dresser mirror to stare at her blue eyes. She wondered whether it has been her eyes' fault that Gomez strayed away. Despite his usual reassurance that he loved the colors of her eyes, Morticia could not stop herself from thinking that perhaps, deep inside him, he despised her sapphire irises. Knowing that she has to force him to stare into the eyes he dislikes, she took her eye shadow set and dabbed her eyelids, first with glittery silver, then with a dark hue of gray, and finally with black. Following this, she took her black eyeliner and carefully framed her eyes. Then, she put on black mascara on her upper and lower eyelashes.
Batting her eyelashes, she decided that her eye makeup was enough. It was not very different from her usual eye makeup, but surely it would seem different for someone who sees her every day and watches her put them on.
Next, she searched the drawers of her bureau for some kind of blush. She knew that she own none of those pink makeup, but she was certain that she had one of those brown colored ones. Finally, she pulled out from the farthest part of the bottom-most drawer, a small tub of powdered bronzer. She did not want to over her intentions to highlight her cheekbones that she only dabbed the brush lightly on the bronzer before spreading it just below the apples of her cheek.
Much as Gomez claimed that his favorite part of her face is her eyes, she knew that her lips are the ones her husband would never grow tired of watching. Using her scarlet lip liner, she traced the edges of her plump lips. Then she used a ruby shade of lipstick to fill the rest of her lips. She puckered her lips as she stared at the mirror and noted that something seem to lack. Morticia pulled a colorless lip gloss and applied it as top coat. She puckered her lips again and decided that her makeup was enough.
Taking her hairbrush, she stood from the bureau and went to the walk-in closet she shared with her husband. She stood in front of her lingerie drawers, deciding which pair she should use to win back her husband. She took two pairs of corset, one black with red fringe and the other purely black. She laid it on the dressing chair and took out a blood red brassier with black fringe. She placed the brassier next to the corset and decided to use the brassier, instead, throwing the robe over her unchosen underwear. She wore a pair of black thigh-high stockings with suspenders and attached it to the panties she was wearing.
She walked to her shoe closet and wore an unhealthily high red Louboutins. Before leaving the walk-in closet, she took a black sheer floor-length robe and put it on. As she passed their bed, she saw Gomez's expensive cigars. She knew that the scent of his cigars on her was intoxicating for him, and so, smiling slightly, she pulled one out and put in in her mouth. She searched inside the bedside table for matches and lit the cigar.
She did not smoke like her husband, but she welcomed the taste of tobacco, but just rarely. As she inhaled, she remembered that she would only smoke when her loving husband was with her, usually after they have made love. But their status of their marriage is different now – she was smoking with intentions of winning back her husband. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that such time would come. Before she could lose herself in bitterness and sadness, she extinguished the cigar and placed it on the bedside table, hoping that she would smoke it again, but the next time would be with her husband.
Morticia checked her reflection in the full-length mirror behind the door of the walk-in closet and decided that if her husband would still want Mildred after she showed herself to him, then the case of their marriage is completely despondent.
She pulled her shoulders back, mustered all the confidence she could channel, and went to the library. She stood by the doorway and watched her husband hunched over a thick book covering a pile of papers on his table. He did not seem to have sensed her as he did not raised his eyes to look at her. A heavy lumped formed in her throat for it was never the case for Gomez to ignore her. Taking a deep breath, Morticia approached him quietly.
She stood behind him and repressed a sob as he did not acknowledge her presence even though she was very near. Her sadness was muddled up with irritation that she slapped shut the book her husband was reading. She let her arm stay extended over his shoulder, intending him to finally realize who came. She watched his shoulders heave as he sighed.
"Morticia," he said. He sounded tired and his voice was marred with exasperation.
Morticia nearly cried, for Gomez never spoke to her in that manner. Instead, she swiveled his chair to face her. She knew that he was taken aback by her actions, and much more surprised by her clothes, but she did not allow him to process all these. She straddled him and kissed him with much ardor as she could. She raked her hands through his hair, tugging gently as she forced his lips open.
"Morticia, no," he whispered. He pulled away from her and pushed her shoulder gently away. The moment she was an arm's length away, he let go of her.
"No?" she repeated weakly. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she tried to compel him to look at her. She stepped away from him and retreated to the corner, where she let her tears cascade down her cheeks. She cried quietly. She wondered how her marriage, which was filled with joy, crumbled down to pieces like this. Morticia sank to the floor in desperation, her shoulders shaking as her cries turned into quiet sobs.
She felt Gomez approaching her. He put a hand on her shoulder and offered his other hand to her.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Choking back her tears, she took his proffered hand and stood up. For the second time, she forced herself onto him, locking her lips with his. His mouth was slightly open in shock and she used this to slip her tongue in his mouth. With a gentle flick, he responded, though not as passionate as he used to. Tears spilled out again in his renewed reaction, yet she continued pouring her heart out in the kiss they shared. Using her knee, she nudged his groin and instantaneously felt him grow. He grunted incomprehensibly.
"Coït," she whispered darkly through his mouth. To Morticia's delight, he growled at her French. He placed his hands underneath her thighs and lifted her up to press against hi body. He carried her across the room to the wall where they crashed against. He kicked the secret door open and while still kissing her back, he carried her inside. They were in a long and dark hallway, only lit by several low candles.
Morticia removed her hands from his hair and started to remove his suit jacket. "Where…?" was all she could manage to ask.
"Our room," Gomez replied, his voice low and raw with lust. He purposely slammed her against the wall to let go of her and remove one of her shoes and stocking. She gasped as her head slammed on the wall. Her mouth was open as she tried to breath, but he forced his lips on her and carried her again.
Still in her fervent husband's arms, she pulled off his suit jacket, stopping every few steps so he could put her down and shrug off an arm of his jacket. By the time the jacket lay forlorn on the floor, they have already reached the end of the hallway. Gomez kicked the secret wall open, and kissed and carried Morticia out as he also took off her other shoe, and she his tie.
Slamming against the wall beside their bedroom door, he perched her on the flower table and removed the sheer robe she was wearing. He pulled away from her lips and stared open mouthed at her body. "By jove…" he whispered. Morticia took his distraction to open and remove his shirt. She just threw it on the floor when he zealously showered her neck and chest with kisses. Still kissing her, he opened the door to their room and carried her in.
He set her down and took a step back.
"Oh, no, you won't," Morticia whispered. She closed their distance and took hold of the waistband of her husband's pants. She pulled her closer and let her thighs brush against his groin again. He stalled and let her unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. She unzipped it and let him remove his pants himself as she kissed him forcefully again. She pushed him against their bed and straddled him. She splayed her whole body against his, the feel of her cold skin against his warm one was exquisite.
She watched in horror as his eyes suddenly regained focus and a dark hood seem to separate him from her. He touched her shoulders to push her away but she would not allow it. She grabbed her hands and guided them through her body, letting him feel her, reminding him that she was his to own. She leaned closer to him and kissed him passionately, tears falling down her eyes. She tried to tell him all the frustrations she was feeling through the kiss.
"S'il vous plaît, Gomez," she begged. She ground the apex of her thighs to his crotch as she continued kissing him and letting his hands wander on her body. Perhaps it was the French, or perhaps it was the feel of her body, but she knew it could not possibly be the mirror of her passion for him, that he moved his hands to her rear and very slowly, he slipped off her panties and squeezed her rear. She was crying very hard that she did not notice him remove his boxer briefs and gently eased inside her.
It was only when she heard his labored breathing from thrusting from underneath her that she understood what was happening. Holding his shoulder for support, she took the wheel. It was a very different love making experience she had in her whole relationship with her husband. For one thing, she was not even certain whether they were making love at all. Another thing was that tears were freely cascading from her eyes and falling on his chest yet he gave no implication that he cared. He reached out a hand to unclip her brassier to let her breasts touch hi bare chest as she continued to pump against him.
"Mon amour," she whispered as she reached her climax. From underneath her, she heard Gomez hissed incoherently as he reached his. She cried even more, for he would usually cry out her name or what resembled her name. She clambered clumsily away from him and pulled the duvet under him to cover herself. She huddled on one side of their bed and hugged herself as she poured her heart out through the tears that seemed to replenish itself even after all the crying she had done.
It seemed as if several minutes passed when finally she spoke, her voice broken. "You truly do not desire me anymore."
She felt him shift from the bed but did not speak. She continued speaking, her voice still broken. "What happened to our marriage, Gomez?"
"I ask you that, Morticia," he replied. His voice was thick with accusation.
She rose from the side of the bed. She faced him, kneeling, and the duvet barely sitting on her shoulders. "Me?" she repeated with her eyes filled with hurt from his indictment. Tears fell down her cheeks. "How dare you accuse me, Gomez. It wasn't me who was whispering words of passion to Mildred."
"What? Mildred?" he replied looking completely flabbergasted. He stood to look down at her, covering his lower body with the blanket from their bed. "And what about you, letting Lionel profess his love for you?"
"Lionel?" she asked. "He was not professing his love for me, he was merely recalling the poem he wrote to me –"
"He wrote you a poem?"
"And you were whispering in her ear! I was there, Gomez!"
"He was kissing you on the arm! I saw you!"
They stalled and watched the other breath heavily.
Morticia frowned. "You thought I was in love with Lionel?"
"And that I was having an affair with Mildred?" Gomez asked.
"It was not true, then?" she softly asked.
He shook his head. "No. I would never… and you and Lionel?"
"Lionel is just a childhood friend. He may have liked be but I never returned his adoration." She sagged on the floor and put her head on her hands. "How could I have thought…?"
"Tish…" Gomez said weakly. He sat down next to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her as the duvet on her shoulders slipped off. She let him cradle her as she cried again, but this time, because of the realization that she mistrusted her husband for being unfaithful.
"Shh…" he murmured. "This is my fault, cara. I thought you and Lionel… and so I hired Mildred. I never thought…" he sighed. "Is that what this is all about?"
She straightened up and faced him. "Yes," she admitted as he wiped the tears away from her face. "I thought I was losing you."
"You can never lose me, cara mia," he replied. "Not unless you want me to."
"I would never love any other man, but you," she said. She lifted her hand to caress his face.
"Nor would I," he said. He leaned closer to her and gently kissed her lips. "My love, the scent of jasmine and my cigar on you is highly intoxicating," he said as he shifted to sit in front of her. "And the knowledge that you are wearing nothing underneath that duvet is driving me insane. Those things are making me think of making love with you, as I have foolishly denied you that just a few moments ago."
"Why don't you, then?" she asked darkly. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow to tease him.
"Oh, that, I will," he assured her. He lifted her and gently threw her onto the bed. He trailed kisses from her hand to her forearm, to the nook of her elbow, up her shoulder to her collar bone, biting slightly at her neck, and then resting to stop at her jaw. "I love you, cara mia."
She pulled his face up parallel to hers. "J'taime, mon cherrie." Their lips met, but unlike before, it was his tongue which caressed hers as he ran his fingers down her body.
So, did you like it? Please comment and suggest ideas to improve my writing. Thank you! :)
I have not drafted the Gomez POV chapter, but I promise that it will come. :)