Sharky : For all the JFCers that are reading this story, all I can do is give a quote by Arwen Undomiel...'There is still hope.'
Lolly: Ha! Not bloody likely!
Sharky : Quote Snape - 'Silence!'
Lolly: Silence is gooden, but noise is FUN.
Therefore, screams from EVERYONE.
See? I can RHYME at 3am.
Sharky : GOODEN? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...
Lolly: . . . THREE IN THE MORNING, PEOPLE. OKAY?
- 8 -
I woke up the next morning feeling like crap. My eyes were puffy, and my hair looked like a replica from a Star Trek character from where I slept on my side. I didn't even change my clothes that I wore yesterday, having fallen asleep after the phone call to Jesse.
I wanted to continue sleeping the whole day so BADLY. Waking up and going to work was the least thing I wanted to do.
But I had to. There was no way I could just leave without at least completing one of my assignments, and informing my supervisor. I mean, I didn't want to go back to Carmel and find out that I'd lost my job.
So I did.
I went to the office, completed my project as well as I could - although it was way below my usual best work, but Mr Dunningham would have to deal. I did feel bad about it – Elsie had pushed SO many buttons to get a deal with him . . .
Oh well. Couldn't be helped now.
I sheepishly told Elsie that I was leaving because New York was making me feel under the weather. She seemed very disappointed that I was going and also a little in my submitted work, but said she understood. Thank God.
When it was finally time to leave, I quickly gathered all my stuff from the office and took a taxi back to the hotel. As soon as I reached my room, I dumped all the stuff on the bed and went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Half an hour later, I was halfway into my packing when a thought struck me. I pushed it away uneasily, but it kept coming back.
Shaking my head, I continued folding my clothes and arranging them into the suitcase. I wondered if he...what was I thinking? No.
I took my cosmetics bag and slipped it into the suitcase as well. Some of my clothes were still in the cupboard, but again I went back to thinking about that thing that was bothering me. God.
I had to decide.
By five o'clock that shitty day, I was back in my apartment, wanting to swim in liquor once more. Scotch. Or a whiskey, maybe. After THAT day, I needed all the alcoholic help I could get.
The day had started off as badly as it had ended. I'd woken up with a mild hangover that instantly hung as a dark cloud over my already doomed court case.
My fears did not disappoint. Ormond walked into the courthouse looking everything that highly paid lawyer should be. His smarmy, son-of-a-bitch air made me want to beat the living shit out of him right in front of Judge Kennedy.
I, uh, didn't though.
From the moment the court came to be in session, everything just kept going wrong. I stumbled on my words, forgot what I was supposed to be arguing, ended up almost falling asleep next to George Palmer, who was FURIOUS with my unprofessionalism, and long story short . . . I lost the case.
Appallingly.
I mean, if there was a Hall of Shame for badly lost cases, mine would knock the wall over.
I mean, I didn't even TRY. My heart wasn't in it. I just looked at Palmer, sneered at the situation he'd gotten himself into, and didn't care.
All I thought of was her.
. . . She was ruining me. Undoing me. Crumbling me . . .
I had tried to lie about my clients location at the time of death of the allegedly murdered victim, all I kept seeing in my head, was Suze. Her face. Her hair. Her body. Her eyes.
It was all I could think about.
It was making my hands shake, and my voice weak. I'd lost, due to lack of focus. And it was ALL HER FRIGGING FAULT.
So when I was at home, craving her more than oxygen, sitting defeatedly in front of the Plasma screen.
Nothing like idiotic torture to drown out the shame of the day . . .
I paced around the hotel room, tearing myself apart over what I had to do. My flight would be leaving in 3 hours, and I needed to be there in half an hour. Yet I hadn't even finished packing, because I had been thinking about this stupid matter, which I really shouldn't have been thinking about.
I didn't know whether I should call Paul and tell him that I was leaving.
Sighing, I sat down on the bed, looking at the phone on the end table. A part of me kept saying to myself that I SHOULD tell him, considering what we had been doing recently. What we had done, whether I wanted them to happen or not. And most of the time, I wanted them to happen.
But another part was saying that he doesn't HAVE to know if I was leaving or not. He didn't own me. Nor did I owe him anything.
The plane ticket was lying on the bed besides me. My way of escape. As relieved as I was to know that I would be leaving soon, I was still afraid that he would found out about me and try to stop me.
But why would he? I didn't think he cared about me as much I seemed to think. All he wanted was to sleep with me. And he did. So there was nothing left for him to take from me.
He DID save me from that basement ghost. And as much as I hated to admit it . . . he did make me feel wanted. After so long . . .
Should I? What if he got mad? What if he tried to stop me? What was the worst thing that could happen?
I figured it was nothing I couldn't handle. He should know what was coming anyway. I was married to Jesse. No matter what happened, I wasn't going to leave him for Paul.
No way.
So taking a deep breath, I picked up the phone and started to dial his number.
It started to ring, and my pulse skyrocketed. Suddenly I felt my heart thumping and I had to take a few more breaths to calm myself. It would be nothing, I told myself. Nothing at all.
Yeah, right.
The ringing of my cell phone made me jolt. Turning off the stupid mindless television, I jammed my hand in my pocket to retrieve the buzzing nuisance. Pissed off, I greeted the caller with an accusatory, 'What?'
I flinched at his obviously angry voice. Half my mind was telling me to hang up, but his cell phone, being like all cell phones, had caller ID. He would just call me back.
So I braced myself and said tentatively, 'Paul?'
I sat up straight, suddenly VERY conscious of who was on the other line. My tone softened, and I stopped glaring hatefully at the muted TV.
' . . . Suze.'
She was calling me? After . . . after what happened last night? She wanted me to come over after THAT?
Shit. There IS a God.
That was when my heart began it's tell tale thumping. I felt like I was the one on trial now. I knew why, too.
. . . I loved Suze.
Sick, isn't it? Love is NOT forcing yourself on them in the backseat. I didn't think a jackass like me knew HOW to love.
My mind began whirling. I loved this girl. I hated her. I wanted her. I wanted to kill her. Such a clash of strong emotions for one woman . . .
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice suddenly changed, from mad as hell to soft and . . . seductive. I didn't think he planned for it to sound that way, but it just did. Stupid charming voice.
'Yeah . . . it's Suze. Well, I just called to tell you that I'm . . . ' Breathe. 'I'm . . . leaving New York. Tonight. I've finished my work here and . . . I'm leaving.'
Breathe out. There. It was over.
Everything in my vision suddenly slid out of focus. I went cold all over.
No. She didn't just say - no way. She was kidding. Threatening. She wasn't . . . she wouldn't DARE -
She would.
'You're leaving,' I echoed tonelessly.
Deny it . . . tell me you're lying, Suze . . .
He sounded . . . strange. "Yeah. I'm leaving," I clarified, firmer this time.
I waited in the long, agonizing silence for his response again.
There was a moment of murderous silence. It killed me. The full impact of my relationship with Suze hit me there and then.
She's married . . . she's . . . temporary . . . she's not yours, Slater . . .
I didn't care. I didn't want to care. I just wanted her. I didn't want to believe the poison that she spoke.
'Why?' I asked in a stiff tone, after what seemed like forever. It was as if the answer that I knew perfectly well, was gone from my mind, and I demanded to know a new one that would satisfy the sudden ice-cold horror that was brewing within me.
She COULDN'T be leaving . . .
I could lie and told him that crap about work again. Or I could tell him the truth and let him know the REAL reason that I was leaving. Which was that I was scared of him, scared of what was happening between us.
In the end, I chickened out. 'I told you. I finished my work here.'
It didn't sound convincing even to my ears . . .
It was as if she was shouting from a million miles away, and the sound had to travel for many, many hours to finally reach me.
And even then, the words did not process to my brain straight away.
But when they did . . . the horror that was there at first was soon replaced by a hot, red fire that started burning and scorching me from the inside, out.
'Oh,' I said, in a would-be light tone. My words were hard and cold. 'You're done here then, are you?'
She knew perfectly well that I was not referring to her "work."
I couldn't speak for a moment, registering his words which were obviously NOT referring to my work. The implication was clear. And that was enough to make my face heated up.
I gripped the phone, reminding myself that I was not the one to blame. He was the one who started it. And I will be the one who will end it. As simple as that.
'Yes, Paul. I'm done here,' I told him, managing to keep my voice even.
Then without waiting for him to reply, I said again, 'Goodbye' and hung up.
She . . . was done here.
She'd finished with me.
She no longer wanted to play with me anymore. She wanted to go play with her old toy again. The one who bored the life out of her.
She was giving ME up . . . for HIM.
When I heard the gentle click of her hanging up, I fell into a stunned silence. Icy, clenching moments of denial passed.
And then, suddenly, the rage erupted, fully-fledged.
A killer emotion was provoked within me, triggering pain like I'd never known. I stood up, and, possessed by the pure, gripping fury, I hurled the God damned phone at the wall. The plastic shattered like I wanted to shatter her. I started breathing hard, and it was as if my world was blood-stained.
All I saw was red.
No.
NO WAY.
NO FUCKING WAY. Did she think I'd GIVE UP ON HER AGAIN? She was NOT getting away from me again. Not after this. Not after I KNEW how she FELT now. How I MADE her feel!
How DARE she!
No way. She wasn't going anywhere . . . she couldn't escape me that easily.
It felt like a hot, life-ignorant hand had been jammed into my chest, and was now mutilating my vital parts. I almost couldn't breathe from the fury. It was intoxicating me like alcohol never could. Only SHE could ever intoxicate me like that.
What was she going to do? Just GO back to de Silva like THIS HAD NOT HAPPENED?
I sat and stared at the phone long after I'd hung up. It was final. I was leaving.
Finally, I let out the breath that I'd been holding for so long. I felt relieved. I felt free. I even managed a little smile.
There was something nagging at me, and I realised that some part of me was terrified that Paul would actually follow me back to Carmel and tell Jesse everything. Even the possibility of that made me feel like my heart would stop.
But I figured that it was unlikely. Why would Paul go through all that trouble? It wasn't as if he actually wanted ME. More like my body.
Oh well. That was over and done with. In a few hours, I would be in a plane leaving NY and all of these would be nothing more than a bad memory.
. . . Right?
I got up and started to pick up my clothes, realising that I needed to hurry if I was going to make it to the check-in time.
There was NO WAY she was leaving on THAT goodbye . . .
And then, I was no longer in control. Some demonic force overtook me, entrapping my mind with suffocating roars of unidentifiable words. I wasn't ready to let her go. I'd known this would come, but I had no idea that it would be this soon.
I certainly had no idea that it would kill me like it did then.
Clenching my jaw and my fists simultaneously, I jammed my eyes shut, and thought of her. Usually, I didn't materialise unless the situation was extremely necessary. I'm no fool. I knew the dangers of shifting too frequently.
However, it was not my mind that forced me to do it, but this unrelenting rage that was taking its cataclysmic toll on me . . .
With the ghostly soft sounds of materialisation, I was there in her hotel room, that looked like it had been hurriedly emptied. Her back was toward me. She was packing a suitcase that was on her bed. That was yet another punch in the stomach.
. . . This WASN'T a joke, then.
I heard the rustling of someone materialising and groaned. No, not now. Not when I'm about to LEAVE, for God's sakes. Don't they understand the meaning of time?
I guess not, being dead and all.
So I sighed and turned around to face a possible New Yorker of a ghost, when I was greeted instead by the sight of the least person I wanted to see then. No, make that the least person I wanted to see, period.
My stomach dropped to the abyss.
As she spun around, she had an air of weariness about her. However, the second that she caught sight of my tall form, her delicate features froze in alarm, as if she would have screamed.
'You can NOT be leaving,' was the first thing that had come out of my mouth. It came out as some sort of passionate threat that I couldn't control. I took a menacing step towards her, my lip curling hatefully.
SHIT.
I knew I should have called him from the airport! He wasn't angry from where I was looking. He was PISSED OFF. And that could only mean I was in DEEP trouble.
Taking a step back, my leg bumped against the bed. I was trapped.
Okay, don't panic. Just talk to him . . . try and reason with him.
'Paul . . . you have to understand . . . ' Right, that was lame.
She stood there, alone, looking completely helpless. She'd completely stiffened, and her shoulders were hiked right up as if I were holding her at gunpoint, and she'd just provoked me to shoot. One of her arms was frozen at her side, her hand clawing the air, and other was subconsciously reaching behind her, like she was desperately searching for some means of defense.
There was nothing there to save her.
From me.
'Understand WHAT?' I spat at her, advancing on her once more. I laughed coldly, my cynicism entwining heatedly with the rage, 'That you're going to FLY back to Latino Land like nothing ever happened?'
I flinched involuntarily against his words. I was scared then, more scared that I have ever been in his presence. What was I supposed to DO?
Focusing to keep my breathing even, I made another attempt to talk to him. 'Look, Paul . . . you know that this would happen eventually. I'm MARRIED. So yes, I would go back to Jesse, even if . . . something did happen between you and me.'
'What even makes you think he'll take you back?' I cocked my head.
For a single, horrible moment, the very thought of her disgusted me beyond all previous occurrences of revulsion. This . . . WOMAN, was despicable.
And she was trying to slip away from me . . .
It hurt, what he said. But I knew he was just trying to make me feel bad about myself . . . made me feel like I didn't deserve Jesse. Well, he may be right, but I also deserve a second chance.
'He'll take me . . . because he loves me,' I said simply, hoping that it was the truth.
'Yes,' I contorted my face in my disgust of her and her "love", 'A nice way of saying that you aren't going to tell him . . . but don't worry, Suze. You'll tell him one day. The guilt will kill you until then. And don't think he'll call you "querida" anymore after you've mentioned what you did whilst in New York. Or, more correctly, who
I saw her hands and her lips visibly start shaking. She looked on the edge of tears. My words were hitting home, and they were tearing her apart.
She was hearing the truth, and by GOD, I was NOT sugar-coating it.
No, I won't tell him. I won't tell Jesse, even if it killed me. That's what I wanted to say to Paul, but I couldn't. The words were stuck in my throat, choking me into desperate silence.
Then the words that did come out turned out to be something entirely different. 'Look . . . this whole thing was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened.'
This whole situation was a sick, boiling, entangled, screaming mass of deadly sin. It was bigger than the both of us; bigger than the old love triangle between me, her and him. This was out of control now . . . I was out of control.
'Damn it, Suze!' I snarled, 'That has nothing to do with it. It DID happen. So what are you going to do about it? Run from me? I'm in your system, now. You want me as much as I want you. You NEED me, now. You can't go back to HIM, now that you know what he CAN'T give you!'
Why didn't she UNDERSTAND this?
I was scared of him. Terrified. But for some reason what he said struck a nerve, and I felt the touches of anger reaching out from the inside.
'Paul, you don't KNOW me! Just because we had sex doesn't mean you can determine what I want or what I need. You CAN'T!' I cried out to him, feeling as if all my feelings were bubbling to the surface.
I wondered if I made a mistake the second the words left my mouth.
'I know you better than you know yourself,' my voice dropped to a volume that was now deadly quiet. 'I know you better than HE knows you. I know what you need. I know that he's not giving it to you. God, Suze, do you think I would have even bothered with you if you didn't NEED it?'
I moved closer to her suddenly, and her knees momentarily buckled like she'd been about to run.
'No . . . ' I swallowed, feeling like all the anger and bravery that I had just now had left me. I preferred it when he was angry and shouting at me, rather than this quiet, unnerving way.
But I gathered all the courage I had left and said slowly, 'I don't NEED you, Paul. Now please. Leave me alone.'
Her beautiful green eyes didn't look so beautiful, suddenly.
Not when she was saying these things . . .
He stopped and stared at me, his clear bue eyes unreadable.
I turned around and pretended to rearrange my clothes in the suitcase, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away behind me. 'It's over, okay, Paul? This is over,' I continued.
I hoped to God that he would get the signal and LEAVE.
I didn't accept that.
The rage, before that moment, had taken an almost underlying quality. But at her words that dripped with finality, it came rushing back, filling my every inch with the pumping, hot, corrosive poison that urged me to act upon my instincts.
Which I did.
Marching up behind her and shoving her stupid suitcase clean off the bed, my hands pushed her shoulders VERY forcefully, and she sprawled across the bed, face first, with a yelp of shock.
My fingers continued till that'd seized her wrists, as I pinned them above her head. My knee came between her thighs, and I leant down, hissing wrathfully in her ear, 'That's not good enough.'
She tried getting her hands free of mine, but I did not relent. Instead, I moved my knee once more, and dragged her around so she was facing me. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were trembling. She looked terrified.
Ha. I wasn't going to fall for that look again . . . it was old now.
'You can't go,' I told her, releasing one of her wrists so I could slide my hand up her sides, touching her in all the places she loved and hated all at once. 'You're not leaving.'
No, this was not happening AGAIN.
My heartbeat racing, I tried to push him away. It didn't work, and I almost cried out in despair.
Then he released one of my hands, and I saw my opportunity to be free. So I punched his face, as hard as I could.
Her fist came out of no where. Wow. I didn't know she still had it in her.
She was a LOT stronger than she looked. When I felt the distraction of pain just my temple, I think I reacted in the opposite manner to how she'd hoped.
I laughed down at her, still hating her.
'Cute,' I said.
Then, playing fire with fire, I rested my hand very heavily on her chest. She wheezed out, still looking alarmed that I had not reacted in pain. I then dragged my hand very forcefully downward, pressing against her skin. As I passed her breasts and reached her stomach, she shuddered, jammed her eyes shut, and turned her head, exposing her neck.
Her chest was rising and falling quickly from her panicky, fearful breaths.
When my hand ventured further past her stomach, dipping defiantly into her pants, her eyes snapped open again, and she screamed in a strangled way.
. . . She wasn't expecting THAT.
I grabbed at his offending hand, feeling like I would die from this mix of pain and pleasure. I didn't want it . . . I didn't want any of it . . .
But he didn't seem to understand that, if the way he leaned over my neck was any indication. I tried to edge away but his grip was too strong. I tried to punch him again, but he caught my hand this time.
'Stop it!' I suddenly screamed at him, catching even myself in surprise. 'Uhhhh . . . '
It was as if I had my hands around her neck, and was choking the life out of her. She was struggling urgently for breath, and she was shaking uncontrollably. She looked unreceptive to my fingers, which were working forcefully inside her. It was as if she didn't know how to handle such unexpected pleasure.
As typical of me, I did not yield. In fact, I moved further, until she was squeezing her thighs together against my hand, and was trying to pull my wrist away again.
She gave up after a second though, collapsing back, just shaking . . .
I had given in. I couldn't believe it, but I had given in, even under that circumstances.
My head was dizzy from the clashing emotions and urges inside of me . . . it was too much. The moment the waves subside, I felt heat rushing to my face as I realised what just happened.
I was angry. That anger had channeled itself into action. And that action fought against any guilt that even CONSIDERED showing up at that point in time. Her eyes looked up into mine, before she closed them again, and drew a choked breath.
I just wanted to own her . . . why did HE get to keep her? It wasn't FAIR. He didn't USE her often enough. I wanted her for ME.
She'd be FINE if she was with ME.
I withdrew my fingers from her, and shot her a twisted smirk.
'I think you're going to unfortunately miss your flight . . . '
I wanted to slap him, but I didn't have enough energy. I could only lay there, feeling helpless, and exposed. I hated what he was doing to me, the feelings he was evoking . . . and yet I wanted him to continue. This indecision was killing me.
'Why are you doing this?' I whispered, my mouth dry. 'You know that my life is not here . . . what we have . . . it's not real.'
But I had to stop him, for both of our sakes.
'Your life?' I laughed bitterly, 'Your life is shit, Suze. If it wasn't, I wouldn't be here. You wouldn't have let me have you. This wouldn't have started, if you hadn't let on how badly you wanted this to happen. This IS real,' I corrected, 'Despite how much you'd like it not to be. This IS happening.'
Having her beneath me, panting like that, turned me on to no end. She looked worn out.
I released her wrists - she wasn't going to be punching me again any time soon - and cupped her face with that hand. Then, lowering myself further against her, I started slowly dragging my mouth chillingly across her soft skin. Then, throwing more wood into the fire, I began palming her firm breasts, kissing her throat in increasing desperation.
Her hands unknowingly came around my shoulders. After a few moments though, she brought them against my forearms, and tried very hard to push me off of her.
'I don't CARE what you say,' I struggled to speak through the confusing haze of hate and passion for him. It wasn't fair, the way his kisses were poisonous enough to cloud my thoughts. I felt suffocated, but ashamedly, not of the terrible kind.
'I'm not giving up my life for you, no matter what you do . . . ' I trailed off distractedly as I felt his hot tongue on my sensitive skin. I could feel the shivers ran down to my belly, and I had to fight from allowing him to do whatever he pleased.
I regained some of my sense and spoke quickly before I got carried away even further. 'Don't do this, Paul. It won't end the way you want to.'
I pulled away from her, and glared fiercely into her emerald eyes. I didn't want to hear that.
I could already feel the reactions that I was triggering. She was still dizzy from when I'd touched her . . . there. It must have been hard for her to think straight - it looked like this was so.
Her gaze was locked on mine. She was pleading with me, trying to be rational in a situation that was anything but.
Then, deciding to ignore her words, I started unzipping her pants, breathing heavily.
I freaked out. Grabbing at his hand, I started to sit up at the same time, wishing so bad that I could stop what now seemed inevitable.
And then the strangest thing happened. Instead of trying to push him away, I gripped his shoulder with my other hand and looked into his eyes.
'Paul. Don't,' I pleaded.
Her voice shook in pure, raw fear as she said that.
For a second . . . a dangerous second . . . I completely stopped, as my fury wavered. The guilt I'd felt started scraping at my eyes once more, and I just went completely still.
However, that moment passed quickly. Angry that she'd made me FEEL like that again, I glared at her and smirked angrily.
I yanked down her pants as if they couldn't come off fast enough. She jolted as if I'd stabbed her or something.
'What?' I said hotly, pressing her down further, 'Scared, Suze? It's not anywhere we haven't BEEN before, in case you forgot. You can't just start this, and not END it. Not with a stupid goodbye. It doesn't work like that. You're in it deep now, Suze. And so am I.'
"I'm not scared!" I hissed, even though I was almost choking with fear. "And I wasn't the one who started it. You DID. Don't try to put the blame on me!"
I tussled against his wild hands again, wishing that I could call for help. Any help.
'Suze, Suze, Suze . . . ' I chided. 'If you hadn't wanted this to start, you would have stopped me. But you didn't. You allowed this to happen, because you wanted it. All I'll guilty of, is giving you what you wanted.'
With that, I took it up a notch or ten, kissing her so deeply that she started moaning into my mouth.
Her tongue, at first resistant, began wrestling with mine. I bit her lower lip, and she trembled beneath me. Returning to the heat of the kiss, my one of my hands began pulling my belt off hurriedly, before undoing my trousers.
I broke from the kiss, kicking them off, before coming back to her lips hard. My hands were smoothing the insides of her thighs, and her legs shuddered.
This was wrong, my mind repeated over and over again. But he was kissing me so deeply, so desperately that it almost made me believe that he wanted me more than just someone to screw with. That there was something more.
Who was I trying to fool? How could Paul Slater feel anything other than lust?
Without realising, I started to respond to his kiss and almost lose myself in the heat of the moment. The insane reactions my body was emanating to him. Like he was answering all of my prayers.
That thought would have made me laugh if I wasn't too busy trying not to moan out loud from his touch on my bare skin.
Stop it, I said silently. But I didn't even know if I really wanted him to stop.
Oh, the satisfaction I got when she responded . . .
At last.
I tore my lips from hers, my hot breath on her cheek. I stared down into her eyes intensely, before pushing her further up on the bed so her legs weren't dangling over the side anymore.
. . . Forty seconds later, she was lying beneath me, paralyzed. Her mouth was open in a scream of silence and - though she wouldn't readily admit it - pleasure.
She was still shivering. It was her own damned fault.
I held her wrists with a possessive constriction. The look she was giving me was tearing up something inside me, like I'd betrayed her in some huge way.
I guess I had.
I arched her against me, gripping her body into mine, and - indeed, mine into hers. She buried her face against my neck, stifling her moans. I could feel her fingernails scraping along my back.
It was as if our long battle had come to an end . . . and I had lost.
Terribly.
I was breathing hard, not daring to look at him, knowing the look he would give me would make me feel like hell. But the moment he grabbed my body, it was as if all rational thoughts had left my mind.
Half-wanting him, half-hating him, I ended up holding him anyway. His back felt strong, muscular and scandalously hot under my hands, and his body radiated strength . . . the way a man would.
A man and a woman. Giving into our desires. Was that all we were?
She was almost there . . . I could feel her . . . we were almost there . . .
I closed my eyes against the building intensity of what was eventual.
Then, spilling over the edge of sanity, reason, and life itself, we both were suddenly both free-falling, holding each other as if upon letting go, we'd lose ourselves to this severe passion, and we'd be trapped there forever.
Maybe it would have been better to stay there. With her. In that single moment that all the pain of her reality was finally forgotten in favour of feeling.
She'd forgotten how much she hated me. She'd forgotten how powerless she was beneath me. She'd forgotten her vile betrayal, and she'd sure as hell forgotten her husband who was a hundred miles away, not suspecting a thing . . .
I wanted it to last. Just that moment of nothingness and intense, gripping lust that sparked the deepest and most desperate desire within me.
But it didn't last.
After I'd stopped feeling numb, I could finally hear her panting hard in my ear. She was shivering from me. Her arms felt so fragile as they held me to her.
Tired out, I fell on top of her, and then rolled the both of us over so we were on our sides.
'Yeah,' I breathed rustily after a second, 'You definitely missed your flight.'
The feeling of ecstasy and abandon didn't last as long as I had hoped, and soon I was back on earth, back to the fact that I was still the loser, and the fact that the man I was with wasn't my husband.
All of the realisations came crashing down onto me like a splash of cold water, and I barely heard what he was saying. All I could feel was . . . .pure misery.
And then, all of a sudden, I started crying. Just like that. Tears pooled in my eyes and dropped to my cheeks.
I felt empty, regretful. So much for wanting to leave everything behind . . . I couldn't even catch a DAMN flight.
I frowned, confused.
Against my chest, her erratic breathing patterns changed greatly. Her breaths were irregular, now. Not to mention, I could feel a trickle of wet down my skin.
I drew away from her, curious as to what was going on. However, my heart tugged horribly when, JUST before she hid her face in shame, I saw her eyes sparkling with tears.
Shit.
I wasn't angry with her, now . . . I didn't hate her. I didn't want to break her anymore.
Although, it was starting to look like I finally had.
I swallowed, running my fingers along her back. 'Don't cry,' I said softly.
Even THAT sounded like an order.
I swallowed, felt like a sob was fighting itself out, and swallowed again. I didn't WANT to cry. But I was feeling so vulnerable . . . and guilty. The worse part was, he knew I was crying and was now trying pathetically to make me stop.
'I . . . don't..' I sobbed, meaning for him to stop trying to comfort me. Nothing he could say can give me any comfort.
If Suze had ever truly been powerless . . . vulnerable . . . it was now.
I didn't know what to do. Her ambiguous two words didn't tell me anything. 'Don't cry,' I whispered again uselessly, before pulling me back into me. She came without a fuss, cuddling her arms around herself in protection. I held her as comfortingly as I could, stroking her hair gently.
I could still feel her back shaking from the sobs, though.
She was so small, in my arms. So . . . broken.
I guess I'd played with this toy too much, now.
I thought I couldn't be consoled. But as hard as it was to believe, his actions did. I let him put his arms around me, and imagined that it wasn't him, but someone else. Someone that I truly loved.
Someone who I didn't know if I could ever go back and face without falling into a mess of guilty tears.
Suddenly, I felt revolted with myself. Had I REALLY shown her that little respect, that I'd reduced her to this?
'Shhhh . . . ' I tried soothing her cluelessly, still tickling her back. Her sobs stopped. I shifted a little, and tilted her face so it was facing mine. She wouldn't look at me, as if seeing my face would break her momentary calm.
Then, as gently as I possibly could - a harsh contrast from my more recent actions - I kissed her.
I closed my eyes and let myself be kissed. Why not? Wasn't the one who was kissing me the man I love?
It was so easy to close my eyes and tell myself things that I knew weren't true . . . just because I didn't have to be faced with the cold, hard truth.
She was kissing back, but barely. It was as if she didn't have the energy.
Hardly astonishing, considering what I'd just put her through.
My kiss was still one of attempted solace. I felt her fingers curl faintly against my face.
However, the moment I did stop kissing her, she started breathing very quickly. Within the next few seconds, she was practically hyperventilating.
'Suze,' I said quickly, 'Suze, calm down - '
No, no, no . . . .
Reality slapped me in the face, and I panicked, belatedly realising that it wasn't Jesse who I was with. Who I was kissing. It was PAUL.
I mumbled something incoherent, and tried to push him away again. I didn't want him . . . not him . . .
'Suze,' I kissed her again. She was wearily resisting, still freaking out. She seemed poised to start crying again. With the kiss, she went silent. And weak. 'Shhhh . . . ' I pressed my mouth against hers. 'Come on . . . '
Then, hoping that I had her vulnerable enough still, I went on kissing her softly before murmuring against her lips, 'Leave him, Suze . . . let me take you away from him.'
'No . . . ' I croaked, my voice rusty and painful. 'Not Suze . . . '
It's Susannah . . . my head was aching, and I just wanted to sleep. But I couldn't, not with him still here . . . .
'Go away . . . '
'Come on, Suze . . . ' I muttered quietly in her ear, enticing her one last time, 'Say that you'll stay with me . . . '
My eyelids felt heavy, but I still wanted to fight him. I didn't know why, but I just felt like I had to . . .
'Stay with me,' he said.
'Nooooo . . . ' I responded, almost closing my eyes fully.
I didn't want him to have her. I wanted to keep her.
'Leave him.'
I kissed her barely. She moaned against my lips, her forehead creasing in pain. 'No . . . stop it . . . '
'Come on. Stay here, with me. Come on Suze . . . ' I kissed her that little bit harder, 'Stay with - '
'Okay . . . '
'Okay?'
'Mmm.'
I smirked, kissing her forehead tenderly. 'Good, then.'
Mere minutes later, I must have fallen asleep, holding her carefully in my arms.
His voice finally quietened, apparently he believed whatever it was that I had said. And I was able to slip into the little piece of dream that I was having earlier . . . full of warmth and . . . and . . .
Succumbing to the comfortable state of sleep, I scarcely breathed the last word that came into my mind . . .
' . . . Jesse.'