CHAPTER 7 - Men and women: questions?
"Come on, do you seriously think that this is better than Stephen King? !".
"Stephen King is brutal!"
Lisa sighs resignedly, the book club is good, sure, but only when you talk about recipes or at least the authors considered decent. In this context, Stephen King is 'brutal'.
She smiles, settling in a chair "Why don't we chose a book of poetry next time?".
There is a moment of silence and everyone look at her puzzled, or better, they look behind her. She turns to the window overlooking the garden and the driveway entrance, closing her eyes soon after.
'God...'.
The cane raises quickly in greeting, though his grin seems to say everything else.
"Isn't that your ex husband, Lisa?".
"As far as I'm trying to forget it, yes, he is" she gets up quickly to go to the door and put an end to anything he wants. Before she gets to the door, she sees the handle shaking and then him closing the door quietly, as If he was...at home. He smirks.
"Why the key isn't under the pot? You don't trust your gardener anymore?".
"No, it's my ex husband" she crosses her arms over her chest while he approaches here, glancing at the living room where her friends are staring at them. He stops, smiling at his ex wife "Nice group, what are you reading? Christmas decorations or how to exit from the tunnel of the patchwork?".
She looks at him annoyed, thinking that she had found his sarcasm so fascinating long, long time ago.
"What do I owe the honor of your visit, Greg?".
"Maybe this?" and he puts the check under her nose.
She hates that too, to be honest. Not the money, but the fact that it is his and that she needs it.
"And how come you're giving it to me in person? I love the white envelopes of your lawyer".
He shruggs. She knows that attitude, she had got used to it, she now knows that when she meets him, she must prepare for an argument about their relationship, the ownership of the house, the gardener, the furniture. In short, in the end, after seeing him shrugging, she knows that she'll have to call Lewis, her lawyer. Because Greg, what had been her Greg, is bored.
"Let's go to the kitchen" she walks quickly, she wants to be sure that the screams won't be heard from the living room.
She leans against the counter and then looks at him from head to toe. He isn't in the best shape, but it's true that she had seen him in the worst conditions. No, she must stop, she can't care about him.
"Greg, what do you want? Be concise, please" she sighs.
He rolls his eyes, tapping the cane "Come on, now I can't even come to say hello?".
"The last time you did it, you wanted the stereo back".
"Because, obviously, it's mine!".
'Here we go...'.
This isn't what she wants, but even If he'd not have pulled out the story of the stereo, they'd had arrived at that point anyway, might as well that one of them begins.
"Ok, we've already done this game, Greg. I'm not going to repeat it, do you mind?".
He begins to wander around the kitchen and she can't help but follow him. He opens the cabinets, she closes them.
"Greg? !".
"My boss scolded me because I didn't go to Idontknowwhich conference about Idontknow what adorable disease regard to children, Idontknow on what day".
"And this is my problem why?".
"He told me that he sent me an invitation a month ago".
Lisa smiles, not just to moke him, but because she had forgotten for real "Oh, yeah...They sent it here, I forgot".
"It happens..." he shrugs.
"Well, after six years you may also try to say to the hospital that you've changed your residence" she turns to retrieve his mail from a drawer.
"I think they have known it since we stopped to exchange love notes in the office. No wait...That wasn't with you".
She closes the drawer abruptly, turning and smiling. He stares at her.
"Give me back the vinyl discography of Jelly Roll Morton".
She laughs in his face, despite everything, she still likes to see him asking for it "Don't you even think about it".
"You don't even know what the jazz is! It's just out of spite!".
She leaves the envelopes on the counter, moving away from him "You're right, that's why I use them as coasters".
"Look, If you don't give them to me, I'll take back the cat!".
She turns again, that was new. Stacy. Stacy is six years old, she is a Siamese, she is hers, not Greg's. And she is only hers because Greg gave it to her as a present for their last anniversary or maybe it was because he was cheating (or both), she couldn't remember.
"Stacy hates you, she cannot stand you, such as ninety-nine per cent of females in the world".
"That one percent should be my mother?".
"No, I was thinking of your dentist".
"I don't go to that crazy dentist anymore!".
"Ok, sorry, one hundred percent of females".
She leaves the kitchen, she doesn't stand him for more than ten minutes, and only five had passed.
"What is it? Lack of sex?".
"Oh, here we are on your favorite topic".
"Lisa you're wrong, it's my favorite topic only with you because I know you hate it".
She smiles, approaching him "No, I hate it related to you".
He feigns hurt, frowning. Obviously, she is satisfied.
"Do you know why, Greg? The problem is that I wasn't enough for you. Your love for me was always expressed in a sexual way!".
"Would you prefer it in a hotel? You know, for old times' sake".
"You wish".
Greg grins, moving closer to her face, dangerously and fast as always.
"Come closer and I'll take back the piano".
He moves away, heading to the door.
She sighs relieved, it had been more painless than other times. But...
A meow not so reassuring at the front door.
She quickly reaches the entrance. Stacy is motionless in a corner, her back straight, Greg near the door, cane off the ground.
"Greg? !".
He whirls with his eyes wide open "She started! She attached to my leg. She looks like you, you know".
Lisa closes her eyes, rubbing her temples "I'd like to know what is your problem today!".
He rubs his beard. She wishes for a razor, a machete or a blowtorch.
"Mmm...I think the fact that my father never bought me a puppy, I've always wanted one...Mmm...Fire trucks, toy soldiers, Chemistry Set...See, that one was right, but I'm firmly convinced that it wasn't my father's idea though".
"Greg, out!".
"Ok..." he opens the door after blowing at the cat. He reconsiders it, looks at the living room, smiling at the ladies "A phrase to ponder, ladies: Wilde once said 'Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same'. I think he was right".
The sound of the door closing is the most pleasant thing that Lisa Cuddy could have ever heard "Coffee?".
A smile is painted on her face as she begins to unbutton his shirt. She proceeds slowly, stroking his back with her left hand while gently removes each button from its slot with her right.
Being there, where he works, the risk of being seen by any person who randomly decides to open the door, only adds to the desire...
He starts to kiss her neck, savoring her skin with his hot lips, and she smiles while helping him to discard his shirt. He moves his hands, the same hands that she had loved since the first time he had touched her under her tight T-shirt, not stopping to kiss her.
Then he picks her up, laying her gently on the desk soon later.
She cannot hold back a laugh when he's on top of her.
"They could see us...".
He smiles, flicking his mouth from her neck to her cheek "I know".
She sensually caresses his abs with one hand, while using her arms to hug him, and with the other hand she loses herself in his soft hair. She feels him arrive near her breasts, he squeezes them while posing his mouth on her shoulder, kissing her slowly and regularly. She observes his blue and deep eyes, they are beautiful, If It weren't for that slight fear that they instil into you, they'd be perfect...
She keeps caressing him, going near his scar. While she's almost going to touch it, however, she stops. She doesn't know If it's ok to take that risk. She's not sure he could find it enjoyable...
He slips his hand under her skirt and then fiddles with the lace of her panties.
She kisses from his neck down to his chest and then to the abdomen, focusing particularly on his navel. It was now a tradition, she did it every time they were in bed...or in a public restroom, or in a cafè, or on his desk...She smiles as he pulls down her panties.
She sits down, not stopping to kiss him, as she begins to unbutton his pants, stroking him at the same time "Maybe we should stop...".
They both know that she's not serious. They exchange a sensual look...
"I think not".
He slips his hand between her thighs, smiling as he sees her lie down and close her eyes.
TBC...