Warning : This is going to be painful, for PFCers and JFCers alike. For that, we apologise. Especially the Paul Fans. He does some seriously weird -

You know what? Read and find out, haha.

And please, review, even if you don't usually.

Love Lolly and Aina.

It was evening when I stepped off the plane in Carmel. The temperature was hot and windy, but I felt cold. I was torn between relief and anxiety. Relief that I had successfully left New York without any mishaps. Anxious that I was coming home, and meeting Jesse.

My body ached from sitting on the plane, but I knew it was more than just that. It was...everything that happened before I left. The fight, the emotional outburst...maybe even before that. My whole trip to New York had been anything but easy.

I was tired, in all kinds of ways. I had tried sleeping on the plane, but I couldn't. My mind kept wandering to what I've done, and I was lucky that no one was sitting besides me, because I had cried a few times. So much regret, I didn't think I could handle it.

Plus, there was that bruise. God, it looked so awful when I washed my face in the toilet. It was purplish and just plain ugly. Ugly like me.

As I collected my bag, I contemplated getting a new haircut. Maybe one with fringe, to cover the bruise. I mean, it would only take a while before my hair grows back, right? Fashion mistake is better than attempting to explain it to my husband.

It was strange that as I was thinking about Jesse, a vision of him appeared in front of me.

Wait...that's not a vision.

'Susannah!' Jesse's voice sliced through the noise of the crowd, clear and...happy. He grinned as he moved towards me, gently pushing aside everyone standing on his way.

I couldn't move. I - I knew I was going to see him, but not this soon. Not like this.

But it was too late. He swooped me in a hug, even lifting me up a little bit in that. My paralysed legs suddenly felt like jelly as I took in the feel of him, his scent, his strong arms, his breath on my shoulders.

'I missed you,' he whispered in my ears, still holding me.

Oh God. I was tearing up. I couldn't do this. He was so nice...and I wasn't worthy of it.

Quickly wiping my eyes and arranging my hair to cover the bruise, I pulled away from him. Forcing a smile on my face, I said as sincerely as I could, 'I missed you too.'

Jesse was smiling as he held my face, but I couldn't look at him. The guilt was killing me. I wondered if it showed. He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss, and I barely responded before pulling away again.

If he felt anything was off, he didn't say anything. Instead, he picked up my bag and we turned to walk out, his hand in mine.

'So..' I coughed, because my voice sounded so false. 'What are you doing here? I planned to take a cab home..'

'I'm on leave today. I had to pick you up, I couldn't let you come home all by yourself,' Jesse said, smiling. 'How was the flight?'

'You know...boring. Tiring. The usual,' I replied, making sure that I was smiling in return.

This all was feeling like work, and it wasn't fair. I just wish I could stop feeling so damn guilty. So not happening, Suze.

The trip back home was thankfully more normal in my part, because he asked about my work and that one I was able to answer pretty well. Although, when Jesse asked if I met anyone I knew there, I stuttered a bit as I said in negative.

I didn't think he noticed though.

But I did notice how strange it was for us to be sitting together in a car, driving to someplace. I couldn't even remember how long it has been since we've been anywhere together. And for him to actually take a leave from work? Unbelievable.

Everything was so different. It was like he was the one paying attention to us now, and I was the one who was busy with my own thoughts, my own little world.

I wondered what made him change. Maybe when I was gone, he realised how much he felt for me...

But of course, instead of feeling the same way, I didn't. Instead, I was off with another guy, all the time blaming Jesse for my own stupidity and behaviour. Jesse LOVES me. And I'd thrown it all away for a freaking fling.

God almighty, if there's one thing I can ask from you, just... don't let him know what I've done.

If I thought that it was going to be easier once we reached home, I was severely wrong.

The house was spotless, and I knew that Jesse had gone through the trouble to make sure everything was in order for my homecoming. When he asked if I was hungry, I found out that he had even cooked for me.

My chest felt tight, and it was just a horrible feeling, pretending that I was this loving, faithful wife that he thought I was.

I wished he would stop being so nice. He was making everything so HARD.

We sat down to dinner, and of course it was delicious. Jesse was a great cook, unlike me. Yet he never said I wasn't a good cook. He had never mentioned any flaw that I have. He just accepted me for who I was.

As terrible as it sounds, I had hoped that the food would taste bad, so that I could feel like he was on the same level as I was. That he could screw up too.

But it was futile, of course.

Unless I counted the times when he had put his work before me, choosing to be with some stranger in a hospital instead of in bed with me. That was a screw up, wasn't it?

Yet I knew that what I call his screw up was no such thing. He was saving lives, for God's sakes. He was earning money for us, for our future family. He wasn't off doing useless things. I just never admitted that.

Instead, I repaid his deeds by sleeping with the one guy he truly hated. Hah. Good going, Suze.

My appetite was missing, but I forced myself to eat. For his sake.

'I've been meaning to ask you,' Jesse suddenly said. 'Did anything happened when you were in New York? I received a voice mail from you...and you sounded quite upset.'

At first I didn't know what he was talking about. Then I remembered the call that I made to him when I was planning to come back home...and I cringed inwardly. I couldn't even remember what I said in that...but it must have been pretty awful.

'Oh no...it was nothing. Just - I was just having some problems with the client and I...' I took a breath. 'I really missed you.'

He looked concerned. 'I thought you said that everything went well with your client?'

Oh, shit. I did say that, in the car. 'Well, yeah, but that was after everything had gone wrong. It everntually ended up great.'

I was going to burn in hell not just for adultery, but for lying through my teeth.

'Alright then.' He smiled, and I felt as if my heart was being torn into pieces.

After dinner, I was thinking only about sleeping and waking up to a brand new day. The whole day has been torture for me. Even looking at Jesse was painful, because he had been nothing but nice since I arrived.

I had a shower, washing my hair and then blowdrying it. In the mirror, I looked terrible. I looked dead. I could see the shame on my face, stained so deeply that it screamed out my sins. And yet, Jesse had been totally oblivious to it.

But I'm sure he'd noticed…something. He just couldn't understand why I looked so sad.

Freshly blowdried hair didn't make much of a difference. My eyes still were hollow and spilling with guilt.

However, the moment I opened the door to the bedroom, which the bathroom adjoined, my mouth fell open in shock.

Tell me this wasn't real. Because the bedroom... didn't look like a bedroom anymore.

The lights were off, and the room was lighted only by the many candles placed around the room. The scent of the candles - lavender, if I wasn't mistaken - were just enough to make you want more. The curtains on the window were open, and the light from the candles were accompanied by the moonlight, making everything look romantic and mysterious at the same time.

And then there were the roses. Red rose petals, to be exact. All strewn all over the floor, and all over the bed. There must have been hundreds of them.

Oh my God. I couldn't breathe. My hand went to my mouth. I was…beyond shocked.

'Querida,' Jesse said from behind me, sliding hands around my waist. 'I was wondering when you were going to get out of that shower . . .'

He gently turned me around, and lifted my chin with his finger, moving his face toward me, his nose grazing my skin. My breath was caught in my chest.

But it wasn't arousal I was feeling.

No. It was panic.

'Jesse - ' I began, but he cut me off with a slow, sweet kiss that graced me lips with such longing and such love. I tried to return it. I really tried. But I was guilt's prisoner, and it wouldn't allow me the freedom to kiss my own husband.

So I turned my head. But his mouth tantalised my neck softly instead, until I pulled away completely.

This only served to confuse him. 'Susannah?' he asked worriedly. 'Is something wrong?'

My hands were shaking slightly. I brought them down on my sides, avoiding his gaze as if my life depended on it. 'What? No - no, nothing's...I mean, it's not - Jesse, this is amazing, it really -'

My eyes flickered back up to his. He was staring at me, looking concerned and a little hurt. '...But?'

I touched my hair nervously. It was killing me, saying no to him and to all this… but I had to. I didn't deserve what he was giving me. I wasn't worthy of his effort, let alone his love.

'I'm just tired,' I sighed, shrugging helplessly. 'I'm really dead beat. This - it's beautiful. But...not tonight.'

He didn't move. His voice had lost that silky pur he'd put on for me before - the one I hear only when he's trying to seduce me. Or to get me to do what he wants. Now, he just looked dismayed. 'Susannah...have I done anything to - '

'No!' I cried, horrified at laying the blame on him. Not when I so deserved it. 'No, of course not! I'm really, I'm just completely worn-out.'

His head dropped, and he ran his hands through his hair. 'Oh course,' he muttered, as if more to himself than me. 'Of course you're tired...I was stupid to think - I'm sorry, querida. This was stupid...'

I wanted to reassure him that it was not. But the pain was too great. How I'd prayed for this before New York...

Now? Now, it just cut me like knives, sharpened by my sins.

But I had to say something. I couldn't let him be like this.

'No, Jesse, it's not stupid. At all. It's wonderful. Everything is...' I had to swallow to keep my tears away. I felt like I was swallowing bile, but I deserved it.

Jesse looked back at me in that unreadable expression of his, and without saying anything, he lifted his hand and brushed away the hair from my face. Immediately, his expression turned to shock.

'Susannah! What happened to your -' He pulled me closer, tracing my forehead cautiously. I flinched from the pain, and realised that he had found the bruise.

Oh no. OH NO.

'This looks awful. How did it happen?'

Unless I wanted to tell him 'It was Paul, who I know you hate, but I had slept with, he was the one who punched me' which was the truth, I had to make up something. Quick.

"Er..I - it was a ghost,' I said hurriedly, trying to brush off his concern. 'I got into a fight with a ghost, and angry one, of course, I always meet with the angry ones, and it didn't go so well obviously, he - he hit me and that's how I got it. The bruise. It's not so bad -'

'Slow down,' Jesse stopped my ramblings. 'A ghost hit you?'

Please believe me. Please, please believe me.

'Yeah. And it's not as bad as it looks, trust me. I had put some, um, lotion on it. It's fine,' I rambled on again. I couldn't help it. I was so nervous I could crack.

Jesse stared at the bruise for a long time. I could feel my heart pounding, and my mouth felt dry. I had to say something, the tension was unbearable.

'Jesse..' I started, then my mind went blank. 'You can look at it tomorrow morning, okay? Now, can we just...go to bed? I really need to sleep.'

I had put in the last sentence because I didn't want him to think that going to bed meant doing it. Because if anything, this served only to pile on my already towering guilt.

I felt so, SO horribly bad for him, but I just couldn't.

He seemed reluctant to let go of the subject, but he must have seen how tired I was so he relented.

'First thing tomorrow morning, I'm taking a look at that properly. I don't want it to get worse,' he said in this doctor-ly tone. I let out a breath, relieved to get away from the topic. I could handle tomorrow morning. I know I can.

So I turned from him and his heartbreaking gaze, and went to my side of the bed. I felt Jesse watching me from behind, but I pretended that I didn't notice. Instead, I pushed the rose petals from the bed and pulled the quilt. Then I got in under the sheets and closed my eyes.

I could hear Jesse moving around the room, probably lighting off the candles. After a few minutes, I felt him get into bed beside me.

I was lying down facing my side, and didn't turn to look at him. But then I suddenly felt him kissing my neck gently, and his hand was on my hip. I could feel the heat from his body on my back, and I wanted to just relax against him.

I wanted to, I really did.

But my dear friend, also known as the guilt, wouldn't let me. As he kissed my shoulders, my whole body felt tense. I couldn't even respond the right way, the way I should.

Then I feel him trying to ease me back so that I was facing him, and all of a sudden, I blew up.

'Would you stop it?' I snapped in this thin voice that didn't even sound like mine. 'I told you I was tired, and I just want to sleep, can't you understand that?'

I turned around and pushed him away, not so hard, but hard enough to justify the look on Jesse's face. He was bewildered by my behaviour, couldn't possibly understand that I exploded not because he was trying to kiss me.

No, it was what I've been keeping inside, all these time trying to get him to romance me, to show me how much he loved me and yet he never did. It was always work and work and work.

And now that I've made a mistake, I'm a freaking mess; he's doing everything that I ever wanted. It wasn't FAIR.

'Querida, I'm - I'm sorry,' Jesse looked so dejected that I had to turn away. My God. Not only had I hurt myself, now I was hurting him too. 'I just missed you. I'm sorry. I should have listened.'

I turned to face the wall again, and my face crumpled up. I didn't want to cry, but even as I was thinking that, a tear slid down my face. I discretely brushed it away, but another one slid down just as fast.

'Is something wrong, Susannah?' His voice was so soft, like he was afraid that I might blow up again.

I couldn't answer him. Because a lot of things were wrong, and none of them were things that I could tell him. So I just kept quiet and pretended to sleep.

He didn't say anything, and I could feel him move away from me. I felt like scum. Especially when I realised that even though he thought he didn't, Jesse actually listened. And when I asked him to leave me alone, he did.

Unlike a certain other person, someone not worth thinking about.

I'm sorry, Jesse. You deserved better.

I was a wreck without her.

I know that sounds stupid, not to mention fucking lame. I know - what kind of pussy was I? That "she completes me" bullshit used to sound like completely crap to me.

But now I understood it. I couldn't think - I could barely breathe. All I could do, was drink.

I knew all alone, that it'd end this way. She'd have to leave. She hadn't been mine to begin with.

She had no reason to stay . . . she had a life back in Carmel, with her limp dick of a husband. Yet, the illogic that had steadily been growing inside my cranium, had taken me over. Despite everything that was, I wanted her to stay, and be mine.

If I thought I was a complete mess when she was here, it was nothing - NOTHING, to the state I was in now. I was - shit, I was crazy without her here.

Without the prospect of seeing her, seducing her, forcing her, loving her. I couldn't do any of it anymore. It was truly over. Over before it had really begun.

. . . SEE? See what she DID to me? I was fucking whipped. I was moping about a stupid chick. Albeit, one who fucked like heaven, but still, just a woman. One who shouldn't have meant anything to me to begin with.

My hands were shaking very badly. My hands never shook like that. Whenever they weren't holding something, they just . . . trembled.

Was it fear?

Fear of suddenly . . . not having her there?

Shit. Please don't let that be it. I'd lived without her for eight freaking years, and I could do it again. And the sex? I could get that from anyone. I didn't need HER for that.

As that thought crossed my mind, I found myself burning for it. Sex, I mean. It was as I was trying to convince myself that I didn't care about her. That ANY woman could have the same affect on me. That she really was irrelevant; totally and utterly replaceable in my bed.

I got out of my couch, steadying myself as I swayed rather sharply. The alcohol was taking its numbing toll.

I'm a guy who can hold his liquor.

. . . But not when I've had that much, I guess.

With blurred vision, I guided myself carefully towards my laptop, sitting in front of it. I felt like I was falling forward fast, with no safety net to break my fall. Blinking quickly, my gaze focused in on the screen in front of me. I finally found the Google homepage, and typed in what I was after.

I spelt the word "escort" wrong three times before I finally got it.

Clicking on a site that had been clicked many times before, I scrolled down blearily, and found the number I wanted. Grabbing my cell phone, I rang up, and made me order.

"Pennie" would be over in fifteen minutes.

I'd show her . . . I'd show her that she wasn't the only one that could make me crazy . . . she was kidding herself if she thought she had that power over me. I could live without her. I could be perfectly happy without her. She - she was nothing. A whore.

I was just moving on from one whore to the next.

I sat in my couch, trying to get my fucking hands to stop shaking. I grabbed the armrests, sinking my fingers seep into the leather, and grinding my teeth. I glared ahead at nothing, trying desperately to focus. I couldn't see - things moved. Shapes, black . . . colours, black . . .

Then, the bell rang.

'Finally,' I stood up quickly, tripping on a cushion and stumbling. I bashed my knee against the coffee table, and a splew of incensed four letter words poured out of my mouth. Making it to the front door, I took a deep breath.

I could do this. I was doing this for me. Not for her. Not to prove anything. This was all for me.

. . . Yeah. Right.

The bell rang again, and I realised I'd zoned out whilst pumping myself up. Fuck. I yanked the door open, and there stood a gorgeous woman, dressed in a long black coat.

She had brown hair. Good. Just what I'd asked for.

'Hi,' her voice was a mere pur. She entered, running a hand down my chest. 'I'm Pennie.'

'I know,' I growled. She smiled.

I didn't like her eyes. They weren't green. They were brown, and shallow. Maybe - maybe I should have requested green eyes too. No . . . that was - no way. SHE had green eyes. What was I trying to prove?

'So,' Pennie's other hand joined her first, as she traced up and down my shirt. My breath quickened. 'What do you want me to do, Mr Slater?'

A slow grin spread across my face. 'Well frankly, I want you to fuck me,' I replied.

Her smile faltered, but was quickly plastered back, full-watted. 'That's what I hoped you'd say . . . ' she said breathily, pressing herself against me.

I stared down at her. Her hair wasn't as shiny. It was too light. And it was too wavy. But - it didn't matter. None of that mattered.

'Come on,' I offered my hand, 'My room's just this way - '

Her confident smile looked so . . . wrong. Why did she have to look that arrogant? It just - it didn't fit. It was out of place, and it was NOTHING how Suze's smile used to look.

She followed, casting a hesitant eye on the empty bottles of Jack Daniels on the floor. What? That was new to her? Of COURSE her guys got a little 'courage' before calling up a hooker.

Once in my room, I slammed the door shut, and shoved her up against the wall, kissing her hard. She recipricated accordingly for a few minutes, but turned her head suddenly.

'Whoa, down boy,' she laughed. 'Easy, now . . . '

I didn't want easy. I wanted hard. Didn't she appreciate that?

The alcohol still had its iron hold on me. My grip - which had been kind of tight on her arms - relaxed. 'Sorry,' I said sheepishly. 'I'm just - my girl just left me.'

She stroked my face sympathetically. 'I'm sorry,' she cooed. 'Well . . . I'm going to make you forget she ever existed, Mr Slater. Count on that.'

As I was doubting anyone could ever make that happen, she pushed my back with feminine force, onto my bed, before crawling over me, kissing my face. Her hands undid my shirt expertly, remindind me of what kind of a woman she actually was.

My hands latched onto her hips forcefully, and I groaned as she kissed me.

Amidst all of this though, it still was doing absolutely nothing for me. I mean . . . Pennie was a slut. There was no doubt about that. She was easy. This whole situation was easy.

I hated it being easy. There was no thrill - no chase. No excitement.

She had my belt undone by the time I remembered what was happening again. Her hand delved over my underwear, and I let out a long, fat moan.

It felt good. I knew that.

. . . But it still meant nothing.

'You're nothing like her,' I failed to keep an element of coldness from my voice.

Once again, her smile disappeared momentarily. Then, making its infuriating return, she replied, 'I know . . . I'm bettered.'

She slid my pants off.

'You're really not,' I said.

Trying not to sound affronted, she just laughed. 'Mr Slater, don't make up your mind yet . . . I'll take you to places she doesn't even know exists.'

Getting bored, I shoved my boxers off. I wanted to get this over with. Prove that -

No, I wasn't PROVING anything.

. . . Right?

Pennie's smile widened, as she came to sit over me, pulling something colourful out of her bust.

'What's your favourite colour, Mr Slater?' she asked slickly.

I rolled my eyes. 'Sorry, but I really don't care.'

Looking put off once AGAIN, she just blinked. 'Uh - black okay? I mean - yeah . . . ' She plucked the middle one, and shoved the other three back inside her bra, tearing the little packet open. I waited impatiently whilst she put it on.

Five minutes later, she was straddling me, grinding quickly and heavily. She was good. She knew her stuff.

But she didn't have a clue of how I liked it.

After another thirty seconds of dominatrix bullshit, I sighed, annoyed. 'Can we do it my way now?'

'Oh,' she said doubtfully. 'Sure. I mean - ha, you're paying me, so yeah. Go for it.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Finally . . . '

With that, I rolled the both of us over. She gasped - the FIRST noise from her I actually liked. The shock was painfully and wonderfully familiar. I dragged her further onto the bed, so her legs weren't dangling over the edge. Then, I started plowing into her.

She cried out in alarm, trying to disguise it as a laugh. 'Mr Slater - haha, this is - '

'Shut up,' I spat.

Fear flickered over her face, something I relished dearly. Her hands came to my arms, which she held tightly. She attempted to hide all discomfort from her expression, but as I went harder, desperate for it to resurface, she screwed her face up.

'Stop it,' she finally plucked up the courage to say it.

. . . And FINALLY, she was acting like she was supposed to be.

Whenever SHE told me to stop, I always knew that she wanted more. My face was alive with thrill. 'Come on,' I said down at her, you know you don't mean it.

I thrusted angrily, and she screamed. 'I said STOP! You're hurting me - '

I don't know why I was taking it out on her. She didn't have anything to do with this. She was just someone that was supposed to be making me feel less lonely.

But Jesus Christ. It was as if she'd never had a determined customer before.

'Now, Pennie,' I chided, as she started whacking my arm, 'This is your job, isn't it? This is what I'm paying you for, right?'

'Yes, but - '

'Then what's the problem?' I snarled, kissing her with violence that only Suze deserved. She screamed into my mouth. 'Mmmm! St - !'

I gritted my teeth, ignoring her.

'She wasn't a whore like you,' I said down at her, breathing hard. She yelped. She probably didn't care what I had to say. But I told her anyway.

'I didn't pay her. I only gave her what she needed. But then - you know what she did Pennie?'

'Get OFF of me! I'm fucking serious - !'

'She THREW it all back in my face!' I shouted, plummeting my pelvis down, wrenching a long, sharp shriek from her.

And suddenly, I was done. Panting heavily, I stopped. She was horrified. Rolling off of her, unconscious of what I'd actually done, I ran a hand through my hair.

I had been trying to prove something.

But it didn't work.

Despite my usual force-it-out-of-her routine, my lust had not been slaked. Not even close.

The moment she wasn't skewered against my bed, she scrambled away from me, falling off of the mattress in the process.

'You're a freakin' psycho,' she said bitterly, before getting out of there as fast as she could.

'Bye, Pennie,' I called boredly.

I heard the door slam, and it jolted me.

I twitched a little, not moving so my heart would get back to its normal rate.

I pulled the cover over me slowly, and groaned. Sex had sobered me up a bit, and it hurt. Rolling on my stomach, I buried the side of my face in the pillow.

Living like this would just not do. She'd only been gone for a day, and already I could stand it. Not even a day - twelve hours or something. I needed her. No one compared to her. No one made me feel the way I did when I was with her.

I couldn't stand the thought of not having her; all of her. I wanted her soul, I wanted her body. I wanted to own it, and pleasure it, and I wanted her to love me and what I did to her. I wanted her to scream for me, and cling to me desperately until the height of our passion had gone. I wanted to sweat with her, and I wanted to feel like I'd cease to exist if we were ever unconnected.

She didn't understand this. I knew she felt the same way - I knew it. She was a wreck without me too. She had to be. We were meant for each other. We were old souls; one and the same. She was me, and I was her.

I just wish she could have accepted this all. THEN she would have understood why I hit her. I loved her so freaking much. She blinded me, and the thought of her leaving just possessed me.

That was all. It was nothing . . . it wasn't like she'd bruise or anything. It wasn't a HARD smack or anything . . . just an accident.

She had to know that.

And then, my mind was made up.

She WOULD know it.

. . . And she'd know we were meant to be together. Just me and her.

No Jesse.