Twenty Questions, Part 11: Sexual Healing

Author's Note: Yes, like the Marvin Gaye song, which is surprisingly not hot. You might want to drop the kiddies off somewhere before reading this one. (I blame Keisha).

And I know, I know, I broke my own personal rule and used lyrics, but they really illustrate the whole point of this chapter, so give 'em a read. I'll be in mortified hiding until Part 12.

Seduce themselves with lies, some don't realize
They call it love but it's really only lusting
So you see you and me
We're getting close to the danger zone
Show me how, tell me now
Should I stay or should I go?
'Cause I'm caught between yes and no
'Cause when you kiss me
I feel everything that I've been missing
I try to slow down, but my heart wont listen
And it's tearing me all up inside
And when you touch me
I feel a rush, but I'm afraid that it might crush me
Should I put my trust in something I don't trust in?
I try to run, but there's no place to hide
'Cause, baby, kisses don't lie
'Kisses Don't Lie' – Rihanna

October, 2018

A half-full liquor bottle crashed to the hardwood floor in the semi-dark living room, followed closely by another, and then another. Bottles continued to rain down and shatter as they were pushed carelessly off of the mini-bar and something else slid onto its surface. Liquids mixed in sticky puddles on the floor as glass shards sprang across the room. The heavier bottles landed with a dull thud and rolled off in various directions. Karen would have bemoaned such a horrendous catastrophe and loss of life had she not been so otherwise, well, distracted at the moment.

Half an hour earlier, Karen entered the penthouse with a man in tow. He hung up her coat as she deposited her purse on the foyer table and made a beeline for the mini-bar. "So, that was fun, honey. I'm glad we started doing monthly dinners to catch up and talk about the kiddies. You want a drink?"

Stan wandered into the living room behind her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Are you sure the one I had at the restaurant wasn't enough?" he asked with a small smile, knowing full well that one drink was never even close to enough in Karen's universe.

"Of course not! We're celebrating!" Karen turned around to face him with an empty tumbler held out in a toast. "Mason Walker, owner and general manager of 'Little Buddha's,' the finest chain of international cuisine on the west coast." She returned to the bar and began fixing her drink. "Now, come on. I'm buyin'. What do you want?"

"You."

Karen laughed throatily and turned around to smile at him, but promptly decided against it when she noticed that Stan wasn't laughing with her. Karen quickly quieted and turned back to the bar. "Yeah, maybe one was enough for you, honey."

Karen continued to fix her drink when she felt her hair being swept to one side and Stan's warm breath on the back of her neck. She tensed as Stan leaned down and kissed her behind the ear. "What was that for?"

"For being a good stepmother," he whispered, his breath making her neck tingle in an annoying, and yet not altogether unpleasant, way.

"Ex-step –."

"You still care. They appreciate that." Stan laid his hands gently on her arms and kissed the side of her neck again. "So do I."

Karen bit her lip and inhaled deeply, trying desperately to ignore him. "Stanley, you're drunk," she pleasantly informed him and reached again for the ingredients to her drink.

Karen's arm froze mid-air as Stan confidently whispered, "No, I'm not," into her ear. Of course, she knew he was telling the truth, but the statement seemed an appropriate diversion attempt at the time. Stan ran his hands up her arms and hooked his fingers under the collar of her black fitted suit jacket, sliding it gently off of her shoulders.

"Well, good for you," Karen replied with a forced laugh. "Finally learned how to hold your liquor." She picked up the bottle again and tried for the third time to fill her glass as Stan tossed her jacket off into a random corner of the room. He lightly traced her shoulder, taking the thin strap of the purple camisole she was wearing down with him and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Stan returned to her neck as his arms slipped around her waist and under her shirt, hands running across her stomach.

Karen finally gave up trying to fix her drink and set the bottle shakily back on the bar. She shivered as his fingers ran lightly across her skin and Karen laid her hands on top of his in a weak attempt to disentangle him from her shirt. Karen muttered some unintelligible protest and closed her eyes, head lolling unconsciously to one side, unintentionally giving Stan easier access to her neck.

Karen's eyes flew open and she jumped as the open bottle she had set down too close to the edge toppled off of the mini-bar and smashed on the floor. Copper liquid settled into the cracks in between the floorboards as Karen snapped back to reality and pushed Stan's hands out from underneath her shirt.

Karen quickly spun around to face him. She tried to step backwards, but found herself pressed against the bar. Karen stared up at him, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly. "No, you –," she finally choked out, "I –." Karen trailed off as she looked into his eyes – the green orbs she fell in love with thirty years ago. Karen saw him watching her intently, felt the familiar weight of his hands resting gently on her hips, felt his warmth as he took a step towards her, and had to grab onto the mini-bar tightly to keep herself from sinking to the floor as her knees threatened to give out from under her.

Stan smiled down at her and brushed some hair off of her baffled face before leaning in and kissing her neck again. Karen's eyes slid shut as he left a line of kisses across her collarbones and up the opposite side to her ear. Stan slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close as Karen laid her hands on his arms, fully intending to push him away, but not seeming to find the strength.

"Stanley?"

Stan finished outlining her jaw and finally reached her lips. "What?" he whispered against her mouth and she shuddered.

"I –." Karen grew silent and froze as her mind went blank, chest rising and falling dramatically as she breathed heavily. "I forgot."

Stan slowly leaned in, capturing her lips in his own. The kiss was soft and tentative, their first in well over a decade, and Karen was pleasantly surprised to find that the contact still sent an unidentifiable tingle running through her body. The next was more confident and they soon fell into their old rhythm, as if they had only been apart since yesterday.

Karen stood up on her toes as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss. She ran her hands up his chest, pushing his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Stan shrugged it the rest of the way off and threw it blindly behind him as Karen linked her arms around his neck. Stan ran his hands down her body and lifted her easily from the floor. Karen wrapped her legs around his waist and kicked off her heels, which clamored loudly to the floor behind him.

Stan set Karen down on top of the mini-bar, bottles of liquor unceremoniously pushed aside and falling to the floor. A bucket of ice toppled over, its contents spilling over the side of the bar and bouncing across the room. They became increasingly more passionate as Karen struggled to impatiently to blindly undo the knot in his tie. When she was finally successful, Karen grabbed an end in each hand and pulled, sliding herself towards him across the bar. She locked her ankles behind his back and pressed herself hard against him. Karen pulled Stan's tie out from under his collar and flung it over her shoulder, where it landed draped over a dimly-lit wall sconce.

As the last martini glass tumbled off the bar and shattered, the room grew silent except for the low sounds of heavy ragged breathing, the occasional stifled moan, and years of bottled-up passion and emotion. Out of breath, they reluctantly parted and Karen began unbuttoning his dress shirt. She glanced up and saw him watching her lustily. Stan reached out to caress her cheek and in one swift motion they collided eagerly again, her hands clutching handfuls of his shirt and his tangled in her hair.

Stan's hands began to roam and Karen writhed against him as they kissed hungrily. His one hand snuck under her skirt and up the leg that was still wrapped around him. The other slipped up her back under her shirt towards her bra as Karen broke the kiss again. Stan returned once more to her neck, hands still at work, as Karen stared blankly over his shoulder, eyes beginning to cloud with thought.

"Stanley."

"Shh," he whispered softly in her ear before kissing her on the cheek. Karen was about to say something else when he reached a particularly sensitive spot behind her dangling earring and her breath caught in her throat. She felt Stan smile against her at her reaction as she threatened to give in again.

Karen grabbed his shoulders and forced her eyes to stay open. "Stan. Come on."

"Be patient, Kar." Stan sounded amused as his hand continued its journey up her thigh, the other working the hooks on her bra.

"I'm not kidding," Karen demanded in a slightly louder and stronger voice.

"Just … wait … a minute," he replied softly between kisses to her neck and throat. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

"No, you don't understand." Karen lifted his head from her chest as she felt him successfully unhook her bra. Stan leaned in and kissed her profoundly and it took Karen a few seconds to regain her senses before she pulled away. "No, honey, I don't think we should –." Karen abruptly halted and gasped, her eyes widening considerably. "Oh my god," she murmured. "Stop that!" Karen suddenly snapped and shoved his hand out from under her skirt. She bent her knees, planting her feet on his chest and pushing, her bright red pedicure contrasting sharply with his light blue shirt. "Back up!"

Karen finally untangled herself from Stan and slid off of the mini-bar, stumbling across the room. She braced herself on the back of an armchair and turned to face him. "I –. You –." Karen pointed at him before relocating her hands to her hips, blustering silently. "We –. You are – oh my god, this is so annoying." She yanked her loose strapless bra out from under her shirt and hurled it at him. "I can't believe you!"

Stan watched it sail past his head and land on the couch across the room. He slowly turned and peered at her fuming form moving restlessly in place. "Normally the tearing off and tossing away of underwear is a good sign, but I'm going to assume that this is not such an occasion."

Karen turned and began pacing the room, bare feet artfully dodging the broken glass and alcohol puddles that were slowly seeping into the exquisite Oriental rug. She kept pausing and turning around to say something, but every time couldn't form the words and returned to her pacing. "What's the matter, Karen?" Karen stopped again and pointed at him, but couldn't rightfully accuse Stan of anything, so she snapped her mouth shut and turned away. "I wasn't exactly working alone up there."

Karen finally sighed and collapsed on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands. "I know," she groaned. After a moment she looked up at him sincerely. "Do you remember the last time we were together?"

Stan looked slightly taken aback. "Of course I do." He knelt down in front of her and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. "It can be like that."

"No, it can't!" Karen insisted, head shooting up from where she was studying her hands, and Stan flinched.

He searched her face, utterly confused. "Why not?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "You are such a man," she scoffed and Stan grinned.

"Thank you."

Karen couldn't help but laugh as she shoved him lightly. "Stop it. Stanley, the last time was amazing."

He grinned again. "You're welcome."

"Can you stop being so inappropriately charming for one minute and just let me finish? Do not respond to that!" she added hastily as he opened his mouth to retort. Stan settled instead on smiling up at her and taking her hands in his own. "That last afternoon –."

"Right before you kicked me out."

"Stanley!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry!" Stan quickly kissed her hand as a peace offering before returning it to her lap, leaning on her knees as he continued to kneel before her. "Continue."

Karen eyed him warily for a long moment before starting over. "That last afternoon." She paused and watched him, but he merely gestured for her to keep going. "When we made love." Karen stopped again and waited suspiciously.

"I'm listening!" Stan insisted.

"It was special," she continued after a moment, "Different from all the other times. Like when we first met. It wasn't lust, or an obligatory appointment I kept so you'd leave me alone for the rest of the week." Stan looked slightly offended at this last statement, but Karen didn't seem to notice. "It … it was love. We knew that it was the last time –."

"But it doesn't have to be."

"Bup bup bup." Karen placed a finger to his lips to silence him. "It does. Because this, tonight, this was lust. I keep that last afternoon in here." Karen laid a hand over her heart. "It's too special to me. This would have tainted it and I can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

Stan didn't respond, his eyes lowered to the four hands entwined in Karen's lap. He was silent for a long time and Karen began to fidget nervously. "Stanley, say something. Please. A dirty joke, leer at the girls, a crude comment. Anything."

Karen was surprised to see Stan smiling widely when he finally looked up at her. "I didn't know you were so sentimental, Karebear."

Karen groaned and looked off into a random corner of the room. "Oh, honey, you have no idea how much I don't want to be even remotely sentimental right now."

"I think I can imagine."

Karen looked down at him sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If anything, I'm sorry. I started it."

She pondered this for a moment. "Hey, you did." Karen looked relieved before realizing something. "But I did lead you on. Oh my god, I'm a big fat whore." She groaned again and buried her face in the throw-pillow beside her.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She turned and peered at him, a smile threatening to break out across her face. Karen watched him grin at her and burst out laughing. "I guess it's both our faults," she decided, sitting up again.

Stan shrugged. "Or neither."

"I like that better." They were silent for a long time and Karen finally broke eye contact with him to look out across the chaotic room. "Gonna haveta restock the mini-bar," she whispered.

Stan watched her as she surveyed the damage, knowing that she wasn't actually thinking about her gallons of wasted alcohol. Stan tugged gently on her hands and Karen turned a questioning face towards him. He gestured towards her with a nod of his head and continued to tug on her hands. Karen watched him in confusion for a moment before realizing what he was doing. "C'mere, ya big whore." She laughed again and slid off of the couch into his waiting arms. Stan pulled her into his lap and into a tight hug, enveloping her tiny form and rubbing her back comfortingly. "Will I see you next month?"

"Of course, honey." Karen pulled back to look at him. "But don't think you're gonna get to third with me again."

"Damn," he exclaimed softly as they got to their feet. "That was all part of my master plan, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware of all of your master plans," Karen smirked as she handed Stan his suit jacket and they wandered into the foyer. "Now go home and take a cold shower, cowboy." Karen pat him on the back as he opened the front door. "Go on."

Stan turned back in the doorway and winked at her. "Only if you join me."

Karen rolled her eyes and shoved him out into the hallway. "Goodnight, Stanley."

He grinned down at her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "'Night, Kar."

Karen closed and locked the front door behind him. She leaned against it, head tilted up to the ceiling, and covered her face with her hands. She let out a growl of frustration and exhaustion and pushed off of the door, propelling herself back into the penthouse.

Karen wandered into the doorway of the living room and inspected the scene, hands raking through her disheveled hair. With a sigh, Karen hit the lights, darkening the room, and began trudging up the stairs to her bathroom. She didn't care what Rosario and Jack would say when they woke up in a few hours and went downstairs. Didn't care what they'd think when they found half of last night's outfit strewn about the living room, liquor bottles littering the floor, or Stan's forgotten tie still hanging off of the wall sconce over the mini-bar. Even though she probably should.

Author's Note (Yes, Another One): I had a tag scene I would have loved to use, but I thought it ended better like this. But basically, Jack and Rosario come downstairs the next morning and are overtaken by the stench of alcohol. Gross. So they go into the living room and are completely flabbergasted. They survey the damage, see the clothes, and Jack instinctively breathes an, "Oh, f---." out of shock at the chaos. He then grimaces as Rosario picks the bra up off of the couch and responds, "Literally." The End!