Whatever It Takes (8 page)

“I’m sucking on your neck and I can feel how hard your cock is underneath me.  I’m moving my hips over you and the bulge in your pants is rubbing me right in the perfect spot.  I’m getting so wet, Gavin.”

I moaned and she kept going.

“I unzip your pants and pull your cock out.  And it’s so hard, Gavin.  It’s so big and hard and I can’t wait to have it inside of me.”

She moaned the last part and I knew she was home in our bed, touching herself just as I was.  The thought drove me wild.  My dick was out of my pants and I was stroking it.

“I run your cock through my pussy and it’s so wet, Gavin.  It’s so wet and I use it to slide my hand up and down you before I let you fuck me.”

I was moaning like a madman, wishing I had some kind of lube with me to make the whole thing better. 

“How are you doing, baby?” Emma had asked me then.

“Not nearly as good if you were here,” I had told her, still stroking my cock up and down.   My wife continued to whisper filthy things into the phone until I came, moaning and swearing into her ear.  After I had finished, I had helped her along by whispering equally dirty things until I heard her have her own orgasm.

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That night had me waking up in much better spirits the next morning and my day ended up being a lot better than the day prior.  I had just finished up for the day and it had been only six o’clock, much earlier than yesterday.  I had been making my way from one of the conference rooms, telling my assistant Ben to grab the sheet of contacts we now had when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

“Gavin?”

I turned and saw Lisa.  She smiled warmly at me and I had to admit, that like a child I scowled back at her.  She was not one of my favorite people.  I hadn’t seen her since running into her at that art thing years ago when I confronted her about cheating on me.  That night hadn’t ended well between us with her telling me I needed to get the fuck over it and me telling her in return that she was a deceitful bitch.

Still, she had walked over to me like we were the best of friends and hugged me.

“It’s so good to see you!” she had beamed.  I forced myself to smile back at her then and took a look.  She looked the same, I had guessed.  Still had the black hair which had been pulled back tightly in a bun.  She had worn a red dress with a jacket over it, looking very much a professional. 

“How have you been?” I had asked her, not really at all interested in her answer.

“I’m fine,” she had told me.  “So it’s your company that just beat us out for the Tricore account then?”

“Afraid so,” I had told her smugly.  The Tricore guys had just signed with us.  I had known there was another company competing with us for their business but I had no idea she worked for them.

“Lucky you.  So what are you up to this evening?”

I had told her I was just going to head back to my room for a bite to eat and then just watch television but she had asked me to join her in the hotel restaurant.

“Come on,” she had said, “it’ll be great to catch up.”

I should have said no.  I don’t know why the hell I didn’t.  I rationalized that we were both married and that Emma wouldn’t have cared.  But then I thought if she were having dinner with an ex without my knowledge I sure as shit would care.  Still, I agreed to have dinner with her like the asshole I am.

We made small talk while we ate, talking mostly shop but then after our plates had been cleared she asked me about my marriage.

“It’s fantastic,” I had told her.  “Emma is incredible.”  I had smiled and thought back to our phone conversation the night before.  “We just finished remodeling a place we bought last year and we’re going to try for kids soon.  How about yours?”

I had asked the question out of common courtesy, not expecting more than just a “fine” back.  When she suddenly moved from her seat in the booth across from me to next to me, to say I was shocked was the very least.

“Gavin,” she had confessed, “I am completely miserable.”  She had looked at me with pitiful eyes while I had stared back with wide, surprised ones.  “My husband and I hate each other.  No, hate conveys actual feeling.  We feel nothing, Gavin.  Absolutely nothing.”

I had opened my mouth to speak but no words would come out.  I didn’t know what the hell to say to her.

“I never should have broken up with you, Gavin.  It was the worst mistake of my life and I have been regretting it for years.  We were so good together and I ruined it.  I was so stupid.”

Like the bastard I am, hearing this had made my ego swell with pride.  Serves her right, I had thought.  That’s what you get for doing what you did to me.

“I want you back, Gavin,” she had said and that was the slap to the face I needed.  I had finally scooted as far away from her in the booth I could get and told her no.

“I’m married, Lisa, and I love my wife.  I’m sorry your marriage isn’t working out but I love Emma.”

She pretended not to hear me and started with the tears.  “I love you, Gavin, I’ve never stopped loving you.  I don’t know what I was thinking when I broke up with you, I was scared, I guess.  Please, I will do anything.  Just come up to my room with me.”

She had leaned in then and kissed me.  It wasn’t long and it wasn’t passionate but her lips touched mine and for some reason I didn’t push her away.  Instead, like a prick, I concocted a plan.  A plan that would backfire and fuck everything up in epic ways.

I can’t even recall what happened from that point on but the next thing I knew I was fucking Lisa from behind while she bent over the wooden desk in her room.  She had been moaning and grunting while I had remained quiet, fucking her furiously and without feeling.  It had taken her saying, “Oh, yes, I love you, Gavin,” for me to finally realize exactly what I had been doing and push away from her in disgust, the horror of what I had just done finally sinking in.

“What’s wrong?” she had said, straightening herself up while I stormed into the bathroom and flushed the condom.  I had zipped myself back into my pants and completely ignored her cries of protest.

I looked around the room to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything and then turned to speak to her.  “This never happened,” I had seethed.  “It was a fucking mistake and it meant nothing.”

That was all I had said to her and then I left her room, leaving her looking disheveled and bereft. 

I don’t think I even took a breath until I was back in my own room, three floors up.  I sat on the bed and held my head thinking, what the fuck have I just done?  I hated myself in that minute.  I hated myself more than I hated Lisa, the driver of the car that took my father, and the cancer that killed my mother.  If I had a gun at that moment I do not doubt that I would have shot myself in the head.

I sat there for hours thinking of how I was going to tell Emma.  In every scenario I could not see how she would forgive me.  I felt panicked and desperate thinking about how she might leave me because of this.  And so I told myself in that hotel room that I would not tell her.  I would go to my grave knowing this secret and would never hurt my wife by telling her about what happened.

I stripped quickly out of my clothes and ran to the shower, scrubbing myself clean of what I had just done.  Afterwards, I inspected the suit I had been wearing, checking it over for make-up stains or feminine smells that could make Emma suspicious.  I didn’t find any but I didn’t even want the suit any longer.  I had started to ball it up to bury it in the garbage, thinking I could tell Emma the dry cleaners lost it if she asked for it but then I realized that would be adding lies to this fucked up mess.  One lie turns into a hundred lies and I didn’t want that.  I hung the suit on its hanger, placed it back inside my garment bag in the closet and vowed to have it cleaned and then shove it in the back of my closet at home and never wear it again.

My cell phone rang at that moment and when I saw Emma’s picture flashing on the screen I felt sick.  Would she be able to tell by the tone of my voice that I had done something awful?  Would I be able to hold it in or would I just blurt out like a fucking idiot that I had just fucked my ex-fiancé?  I thought I was going to throw-up.

“Hey baby,” I had said into the phone, hoping my voice was as normal as I thought it sounded.

“Hey,” Emma replied,  “it’s late and I hadn’t heard from you.  I was getting worried.” 

I had glanced at the clock to see that it was already approaching eleven. 

“Sorry, Em.  I fell asleep after today’s meeting and woke up just a bit ago.  I just showered and was about to call you.”  It disturbed me how easily I was able to lie to her.

“Did you not sleep well last night either?” she had asked.  “Even though I was pretty spent after our conversation I tossed and turned all night.  I have such a hard time sleeping when you’re not with me.”

“Me too,” I told her.  God, I hated myself. 

“So, how did it go today?  Did you get Tricore to sign with you?” 

I told her we did and she congratulated me.  We spoke for a while longer and the entire time all I could think about was how I had just betrayed her in the worst possible way and I was talking to her like nothing happened.  After saying goodnight I had crawled under the sheets of the bed.  Rather than sleep though, I spent the entire night awake thinking about what a bastard I was.

8

Emma

Six Years Ago

“Emma Harrison, if you don’t stop turning your head and trying to look in the mirror, I am going to stick this curling iron in your eye.”

I smirked at Yvonne’s words.  She was styling my hair for my date with Gavin that night.  We were going out for our one year anniversary and I had no idea where we were going but Gavin had told me to dress nicely.  While my newest best friend, courtesy of my job at the university library, worked on styling my hair, my oldest best friend and cousin sipped a glass of cheap, red wine and thumbed through a magazine.  The three of us were crammed into my bathroom, Yvonne working on my hair while I sat on the closed toilet seat, Diane sitting on the vanity, and I couldn’t help but sneak glances as to what Yvonne was doing to my hair.  Need for control and all of that.

“Sorry,” I murmured.  I kept my head straight forward from that moment on. 

“Oh, hey look at this,” Diane announced reading from the issue of Cosmo sitting in her lap.  “A guide to make sure you orgasm every time you have intercourse.”

Yvonne snorted.  “I don’t need a guide for that.  And why the hell would they put that in a woman’s magazine?  Shouldn’t that be an article in Maxim or something?  It’s the guy’s job to make sure we come.”

“Well according to this, there are several things a lady can do to help her climax,” Diane stated all business like.  I had to laugh.

“Having trouble finding a happy ending, Diane?” I teased.

It was her turn to snort.  “Ah, no.  Sometimes Mike has to go a little extra mile if he finishes before me, but he makes it his duty to get me off.  Every.  Single.  Time.”

I looked at her sideways, careful not to move my head and piss Yvonne off further.

“Every time?” I asked, my voice oozing with doubt.

“Every time,” she insisted.  “Why, don’t you?”

Yvonne stopped working on my head for a second to allow me to answer, obviously interested in this conversation as well.

“Of course!” I exclaimed quickly and then backtracked.  “Well, practically every time.”

“Whoa, what do you mean practically?” Yvonne demanded, pointing the curling iron at me accusingly.  “Gavin does not seem the type of man to let his woman out of his bed unsatisfied.”

“He doesn’t,” I insisted.  “It’s not like that.  I mean, ninety-nine percent of the time I do but when I do I have to-”

“Have to what?” Diane probed.

“I have to be on top.”  I said the words quickly and with a tiniest bit of embarrassment.  This was something Gavin took notice of after we started sleeping together but never actually talked about.   Most of the time we’d start out in one position but he’d make sure to move me astride him before he came that way he was sure I did too.  Sometimes though, I would want him on top.  I loved the way his weight felt on my body and it was sexy as hell watching him fall apart with his face just above mine.  Even if I didn’t orgasm those times I still loved the connection between us and the sex was still amazing.  We tried several other positions but it was clear that the only way I’d climax was if I was in the dominant position.  I didn’t even come when he went down on me. He was great at it and it felt amazing but I was just never able to finish like that.   It had been that way with my two previous partners as well.

“Oh?  What a shocker!” Yvonne’s words dripped with sarcasm as she moved to continue on my hair.  I pushed her back though.

“What does that mean?”  My voice was as full of contempt as this bathroom was of estrogen.

She and Diane exchanged knowing glances.

“Em,” Diane started, her voice coming out more gentle than usual.  She tossed her hair, long and brown, like mine, by means of procrastination.  Then she continued, “Don’t you think that has to do with your need to be in control of everything.”