A/N: Angela's dress is the one she wore in Starlight Memories. We're far out of canon at this point, but I like to think she always had a few new special occasion dresses queued up. The floorplan of the house makes no sense. In my mind, there is a massive closet off camera somewhere, filled with robes and novelty sweaters and formal gowns. I believe there is a cabinet full of hair ribbons, arranged by color, as well.

Chapter Fourteen: Moonlight

Friday, November 30, 1990

Mona stepped into Angela's office and closed the door. "How are things going with Andy?"

"Good. Why are you asking now? We have work to do."

"Your meetings are done for the day. Besides, you're never home anymore. And I'd be afraid to ask on the train with your scandalous behavior."

"We've calmed down, Mother."

"That's good. You bruise too easily for S&M."

Angela gasped. "Tony! I'm going to kill him."

"Calm down, I found out from Jonathan," Mona said, avoiding implicating Tony. Her statement had the opposite of its intended effect and Angela began to hyperventilate. She emptied the paper bag her lunch had arrived in and began inflating and deflating it rapidly.

Once her breathing had stabilized, she asked "What did he say?"

"He thought you fell on Halloween, but I can tell from your reaction that things were even more out of control that night than I thought."

"We were experimenting. It's not for us."

"OK," Mona relented. "How is couples counseling? You and Tony seemed to be getting along well over Thanksgiving weekend."

"It's helping."

"Are you being honest with your therapist?"

"I think we are. You know we just started going last week, right?"

"I know. I'm just wondering if you two brought up what happened on Sunday."

"What happened?"

"I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that I went into the kitchen to see if there was any pie left after my date with Randy, and I heard heavy breathing from the other side of the door."

"You must be mistaken."

"No, I definitely heard Tony say he didn't want to stop."

"What else did you hear?"

"I left. I didn't want to be a witness to whatever you weren't stopping. And it sounds like you didn't."

"It was just a kiss under the mistletoe that went a little too far." Angela wilted under her mother's glare. "It wasn't that bad. Hand stuff," she mumbled.

"Angela! You are in a serious relationship. You can't go around doing hand stuff with other people."

"It's not other people, it's Tony!"

"And I have no problem with the two of you fooling around, as long as you're not committed to anyone else. You told me a month ago that you and Andy were keeping it casual, but you've practically moved in with him. You can't have it both ways!"

"I don't need lectures on cheating from a cheater."

"Who would know better what damage it can cause? Look, I suggest you start being honest with your therapist. That's the only way it's going to work. Otherwise, this whole situation is apt to crash and burn."

Angela paged Andy and resumed working while she waited for his return call. Forty minutes later, Mona buzzed her. "It's your boyfriend on line one," she announced. "Andy, not the other one."

"Hey. You're off pretty soon, right? I was thinking we could go out in the city. Maybe hit a cabaret show or a jazz club?"

Angela was glad to hear that Andy was also in the mood to start the weekend strong.

"Wonderful. Go to my house and get a cocktail dress and satin heels. Tony should be there. He'll know what I have in mind. Can't wait to see you!"

Andy knocked on the door, half hoping nobody would be home. He heard a voice call out "Lose your key, Angela?" and then the door opened and Tony's face fell. "Andy. Come in."

"Hi Tony. I need a favor."

"Ask away."

"Angela called me from the office. She wants to go out, so she sent me to pick up a cocktail dress and satin heels. And I was thinking about surprising her with a night in a hotel. So I'll need to get her a change of clothes for tomorrow."

"No problem. Come on up," Tony said, starting up the stairs and leading Andy into Angela's bedroom. When his eyes fell upon her neatly made bed, his stomach clenched. She had had sex with Andy in this room while he sat downstairs eating cookies with her son. He pushed the thought aside and told himself this was just part of his job.

"That one's nice," Andy said, pointing out a short black sparkly number, cut low in the back. Tony hadn't even seen her wear it yet, but he could picture her in it. He pulled out a matching pair of shoes that would be comfortable for dancing or a moderate amount of walking, a pair of sheer black hose, and a pair of panties that wouldn't show lines. While he was at it, he gathered a pair of cotton panties, a cotton bra, a pair of slacks, and a coordinating turtleneck. Mentally reviewing the outfit, he added a belt, socks, and oxfords. Lastly, he grabbed a pair of earrings from her jewelry box.

"You forgot a bra for tonight."

"Nah, she'll go braless under this. Do you need a nightgown? A robe?" Tony asked.

Andy shook his head. "They should have robes in the room already."

"Toothbrush?"

"I still have to stop by my place. I'll grab the toothbrush she keeps there."

Tony packed everything in a garment bag and wished Andy a good night. He glanced at the mistletoe hanging near the kitchen and thought back to the last time he had shared a hotel room with Angela. It was February. The Moonlight Motel in South Carolina. They were there for his baseball convention, and after the previous year in St. Louis, it just made sense to continue pretending to be married.

It was one of those uncertain phases in their relationship. They were flirtatious but physically distant in the months leading up to the trip. He had hoped the change of scenery would spark something between them.

Tony's old baseball buddies teased him, as if they were surprised that he could maintain a relationship, despite the fact that he had been happily married most of the time that he played ball with them. The other wives were delighted to see Angela, but Betty Randall seemed terrified of her.

It was thrilling to have someone in the stands who wasn't even a baseball fan. She was there just for him. He passed up the opportunity to drink with his friends in favor of watching a movie in their room. He could no longer remember the title, if he'd ever known. Exhausted from travel and the game, he had passed out on the couch. When he awoke, Angela was kneeling between his legs, sucking his cock.

He thought it was a dream. Not the first of its kind, by far. After a couple of minutes, he realized it was really happening. His best friend. His boss. His fake wife. She was blowing him like some groupie. He stroked her hair, reluctant to set a hand on the back of her head.

She took her time, as if savoring the feel of him in her mouth. Eventually, he stood up, letting his pants drop. She palmed his balls and pressed a delicate finger to his taint, and then she licked his sac and took his balls into her mouth one at a time. Finally, she slurped at the head of his cock while spreading her spit down the shaft with a strong and steady hand. It was the best BJ he had ever received, capped off by the sight and sensation of her greedily swallowing his cum.

They didn't kiss that weekend, aside from little pecks for show. Somehow, they managed to sleep in the same bed and keep their hands off each other. In the morning Angela snuggled into his bare chest and said, "I hope you enjoyed it." If only they were really married, he could have made love to her until checkout time.