Lawful Discretion Pt. 03

I opened my eyes, coming smoothly out of a slumber as if breaking meditation, a peaceful and welcome waking. I stretched across the mattress, feeling a fading warmth in the space next to me, and blinked as I took in my surroundings fully.

Right, I had stayed the night at Stephen's. The slightest moment of disorientation was quelled, and I pushed myself halfway up as I swept my eyes across the empty bed. They landed on the bathroom door, where I could hear the sound of a shower. I sat up fully, yawning, and considered for a moment tiptoeing in and joining him, but before I could so much as hop out of bed, I heard the water stop. I lay on one of the downy pillows, waiting for him to appear.

The door opened moments later, and Stephen stepped out, mussing at his hair with a towel, his body reddened by the steamy shower. I was perhaps a touch disappointed to see he'd already slipped into a pair of boxer briefs, but I did appreciate the way it outlined all of him quite luridly. I gave him a smile, twisting on my belly to arch my back and put my butt on display. "Mm, good morning."

Stephen tossed the towel aside and walked over, wordlessly lowering himself to the bed to lean in to my lips. I reacted with an involuntary inhale, a small noise of surprise and pleasure, and returned his kiss. After a few moments, he pulled away, still smiling down at me warmly. "How're you feeling?"

I paused, considering what he was asking, and took stock. My body felt a bit achey, as though I'd been exercising. My breasts still throbbed and hummed with a dull sting, though luckily with my complexion I don't easily bruise. My ass... well, it could be worse, I thought. It was absolutely a bit tender, enough to make me second-guess sitting on any hard benches, but... not that bad? I stretched again, raising one thigh as if to test my limits, then shrugged. "Not bad." I turned my eyes back towards him. "Pretty good, even?"

Stephen grinned, then patted my butt with a soft clap. "Alright, feel free to use the bathroom. Don't worry about the hot water, got enough to last. I'll get some breakfast going."

My eyes widened. "Ooh, and he cooks?"

"You've got no idea," Stephen chuckled, and crossed to his bureau. He opened the second drawer and pulled out a simple white tee. "What are you in the mood for?"

Truthfully, the idea of a couple eggs and a stiff black coffee had me practically salivating, but I decided to let my snark out. "Oh, a little of this, a little of that... Bacon, eggs, pancakes, maybe some fruit... yogurt, of course-none of the fat free slop either-"

I grinned, watching Stephen fail to stave off a smile as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Are you sure that'll be enough?"

"Well I might be eating for two," I said innocently, laying a hand over my belly. Stephen broke, and made his way to the hall, chuckling. I stretched, and finally tossed aside the covers, and hopped out of bed. I yawned again, then headed into the bathroom. The room was still warm from Stephen's shower, and a fluffy towel and packaged toothbrush sat on the counter like a present. The green tile was cool underfoot, and I stepped into the large, glass encased shower. The water took a moment to get going since he had some fancy fixtures that worked more like oblique levers than knobs, and there was an overhead shower besides the main detachable head. I winced under the sudden heat and adjusted it, before stretching under the downpour, feeling the sloth lose its grip on my body and mind.

Stephen had a pretty decent selection of soap, and I picked a body wash out after a few sniffs, happy with its nearly muted, fresh smell. I didn't need to smell like a floral arrangement or a new leather interior, just clean.

As I got down to my legs I grimaced, noting the beginnings of some stubble. My body hair has never been super thick but I still didn't like it, and my legs seemed to be the worst for it. I frowned, and glanced about the shower. Nothing. Not that I was expecting...

A thought occurred, and I slipped out of the glass door onto the bathmat. I dropped to a crouch and pulled open the cabinet beneath the sink. An array of toiletries and cleaning supplies met my eyes, as well as a set of shelves, which... bingo! I reached in and snagged out a pink bic disposable razor from a pack. I had a few seconds where my brow furrowed, as I didn't see Stephen paying the pink tax out of some feminist solidarity, but I shook it aside and hurried back into the shower. I could see some ex leaving them and him cleaning around them, barely noticing with how they were couched with extra toothbrushes, rolls of floss, band-aids, and so forth.

I took my time, humming to myself as I shaved, constantly running my hands up and down to ensure I hadn't missed anything. It felt so good to rub my newly smooth legs together under the water. I sighed happily, content and fully awake, and finished up before brushing my teeth.

Back in the bedroom, I walked over to my little pile of clothes. I grimaced for a moment, wishing I had something to change into, then lifted my shirt and gave it a healthy sniff. Okay, well... it wasn't fucking rancid, but definitely worn. I shrugged, and tugged it on, along with my panties and jeans, then stepped out to the hall.

Already, by the time I reached the landing, I could smell something delicious. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since before work the night before, and I skipped more quickly down the stairs on the toes of my bare feet.

I rounded into the kitchen, and was greeted with quite a sight. Stephen bustled about by the stove in a black apron with Bella at his knees, and laid on the table was a veritable feast. My eyes went wide as I took it in-a plate full of fluffy yellow scrambled eggs, another full of bacon, a bowl of blackberries, another of blueberries, another of diced honeydew--the fucking yogurt--

"Wh-Stephen, oh my god," I pealed, my voice caught between laughter and horror. "I wasn't serious!"

Stephen turned and grinned at me, mischievous and dashing. I felt my heart skip. "Told you you had no idea." He pointed to the rustic, round table with his spatula. "Sit, dig in."

I sank to a chair, my mind still reeling and giddy at this absolutely gorgeous display, but picked up the fork by my plate and jabbed a nice juicy chunk of melon. It burst in my mouth, flooding it with flavour, and I felt the lion in my stomach roar. Stephen made his way over with a steaming plate of buttery, golden pancakes as I started dumping eggs onto my plate. He cocked one brow. "Pancake or two?"

I snagged two with my fork, throwing him a wink and kiss, then turned to the bacon. I knew I had taken a bit of time in the shower, particularly with the shave, but I hadn't expected all this. I poured myself a cup of coffee from the nearby pot and sipped it, before nodding approvingly. "Oh, that's good, it's like..."

"Like?" Stephen peered at me from across the table as he drowned his pancakes in syrup, his smile knowing and growing. My mind juddered into another gear as my brow furrowed, and then a snap of realisation. Stephen saw it on my face and grinned fully.

"You--you went and got that bean I mentioned like once?"

"Well to be fair, you yourself said it was pretty good, and I'd be inclined to agree. Even day old and microwaved. So I decided to pick up a bag."

I sipped it again. It was so smooth, the sweet notes and bitter pungency playing off one another perfectly, leaving no room for a thin, watery flavour. "Christ, I don't think I've ever had it this good, though. What did you do?"

Stephen shrugged. "Nothing. Ground it, brewed it."

I peered into my cup. "Hm. I must not be getting the grind right then."

"I'm pretty finicky about anything culinary, I guess," Stephen replied.

"No way," I said with mocking disbelief, then stuffed a forkful of bacon and eggs into my mouth. Delicious. Conversation was paused as we ate ravenously--clearly I wasn't the only hungry one. The odd duck out was Bella, doing a damn good job of breaking my heart as she lay flat to the floor by the table, casting us each baleful gazes with her big, pale green eyes.

"Enough of that," Stephen scolded through a mouthful. "You got extra rations last night and I fed you good already, lil piggy. You a lil piggy? Hm?" Bella perked up, her tongue lolling out as she panted, her tail slapping a rhythm against the linoleum. Ah, be still my fluttering heart.

By the time we were stuffed, we'd made good work on the eggs, cleared off all the bacon, eaten all but one of the pancakes, and decimated the fruit with a couple dollops of yogurt. I felt almost decadent, filled a bit beyond satiety, but not quite to the point of discomfort. Stephen rose with our plates to take them to the sink, and I leaned back, sipping a second cup of coffee as I took it all in. Stephen, his back to me, strong shoulders moving as he scrubbed in the sink. Bella, sitting pretty nearby, giving me friendly, hopeful looks, begging me to defy the king's decree. The mid-morning light, streaming in through the patio doors. It was like a little tableau, so idyllic, so... foreign. Something like this seemed like a scene out of a television show, a sitcom or a family drama... but now it was real, it was something I was experiencing. Stephen turned from the sink, and we met eyes. I smiled, and he stepped toward me, opening his mouth--

There was a rather audible clicking sound, and I swear to god I saw both Bella and Stephen's heads whip toward the foyer as one. Then the sound of a door opening...

Bella shot up from her seated position and bounded for the hall, her tail high and wagging wildly. Stephen, on the other hand, went pale. He looked... horrified, like he'd just seen something terrible occur, which was a rather grim irony. The events were out of order. A wave of goosebumps raised along my neck, and I turned toward the hall at the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood.

"Oh, hi baby! Yeah, I missed you too! Okay... where's..." The woman stepped into the room, and stopped short, her eyes sweeping over me--she blinked a few times as though trying to reconcile me with the rest of the room--before landing on Stephen. She slowly crossed her arms and nodded once. "Huh."

By now my eyes were wide as saucers, my heart hammering in my ears. What? Who? I gawped at her, because to look anywhere else would be a demonstration of insanity. She was older than me, maybe in her mid or late 40s. Reddish-blonde hair that feathered around her heart shaped face and lay on a sizeable bosom. She was shorter than me by a few inches, and a bit stout, but with a pinched waist and hourglass hips besides, stressing against the shiny green fabric of her dress. Her heavy lidded eyes glared directly at Stephen. He in turn looked stricken, but kept his eyes locked on hers, looking as though he was in the midst of a cold sweat. "M... Miranda, what are you even doing here? You--you said you were-"

"I know what I said," she replied sharply, her soft voice cutting through the silence of the room. Bella stood by her side. It felt like an indictment, to be abandoned by the pure and noble canine judge of character. "But this is still technically my residence, and I still have things here."

"You really couldn't so much as call, give me a heads up?"

Miranda shifted on her hip cocking her head to the side. "Why should I need to do that? Hm...?"

Stephen grit his teeth, biting something back, and unable to contain it, like a tic, glanced my way for a split second. Miranda slowly cast me a sidelong glance. I felt my blood run cold. My eyes immediately dropped, an instinct I fought, but only managed to look at her for another moment before feeling like I was going to hyperventilate. I felt myself begin to crack on the inside.

"You're not one of his students are you?" It took me a moment to realise she was addressing me, and I looked up, trying to rally myself under her glare. I couldn't read her expression... it wasn't blind fury... it wasn't quite indignation, and it definitely wasn't weariness or resignation. Maybe some bizarre mix of the many. Stephen rubbed his face.

"Miranda, for Christ's sake-"

"You know what Stephen, I don't wanna hear it. Any of it." She dropped her hands to her sides, shaking her head. "Didn't take you long to find some young bedwarmer, huh?"

"Miran-"

"I'll be back tomorrow. I'll be sure to 'give you a heads up'. Wouldn't want to interrupt your little..." She peered at the table, eyes, narrowing, Her eyes slid back to me for a moment, and her lip curled into a sneer. She shook her head, raising her hands, then wheeled and headed for the door, muttering to herself. After a moment, it slammed shut.

The kitchen was filled with a thick, tense silence, broken only as Bella came sadly plodding back into the room. I slowly turned my red-rimmed eyes to Stephen, holding back tears by sheer force of will. He looked at me with haunted eyes, and quickly moved towards the table. "Jo, I can-"

I shook my head and stood out of my chair, and now I did feel ill. I fought to keep my gasping breath in check. "Y-y-you're married."

Stephen shook his head. "No! I... I mean... we're separated."

I cast my arm toward the front hall. "Separated?"

Stephen sighed, running his hand over his eyes. "I... we've been having issues for.... it's been a long time coming."

"Didn't sound like it from what she said," I countered warily, feeling myself revert to the defensive. My hands worked in and out of fists, desperate to do something other than quiver violently.

"Well that's--she just recently moved out, earlier this month. Staying at her sister's. I didn't think she'd still be... popping by."

I stared at him, then scoffed and turned to leave the room. He hurried after me. "W-wait! Josie--Jo-"

"Don't," I sobbed, my voice finally wavering and breaking. "Just... I'm getting my stuff and I'm gonna go. I don't even know what to think right now." I continued into the hall, and didn't feel Stephen pursue me. I made it upstairs somehow, feeling utterly out of control of my own body, and robotically collected my socks and flannel even as I wheezed and snivelled and dripped with tears. Stephen stood by the door as I came downstairs. He told me how sorry he was that she showed up. He told me theirs was a loveless marriage. He told me that he cared for me, and didn't want things to end like this.

I couldn't look at him. A cold grip encased my heart, hollowing me out. I stared ahead, unresponsive as I tugged on my coat and boots. He asked me if I was okay, where I was going. I didn't respond. I didn't know. I stepped outside and walked away.

-------

"Ffffuck," I hissed under my breath, staring down to where I'd accidentally poured the ingredients for two separate cocktails into a single shaker. A waste of product and, crucially, a couple minutes, while I had another 9 drinks lined up. I allowed myself a half second to reset and exhale the spike of annoyance and frustration that threatened to raise my temperature, then dumped and rinsed the tin to start over. Karyn studied me over the bar where she waited with her tray.

"Hey, you okay Joe? Want me to take over for a bit and get some-"

"I'm fine," I replied tersely, and she backed off, brows raised.

"Alright, just checking."

Ugh, I hated that, hated how I wore my emotions all over, how easily I went sour, and the way I lashed out to those around me. It never helped. I tried to calm myself and turned a softer look to Karyn. "Sorry, I'm... just dealing with a lot. Like besides this. Don't worry, I'll get these banged out."

"Step by step, one at a time," Karyn nodded. "They'll wait. But really, are you...?"

I offered her a small, ineffectual smile as I pounded a tin shut and began to shake. "It's just the way of the world," I replied. "I'll get over it."

Mm. Well there was a hopeful thought. I was thankful it was packed, and would be for the final two weeks-reservations, parties, and a closing event. Busywork left me less time to sit and wallow. More drinks to make, food to run, glasses to polish, cutlery to roll.

Anything to keep me from receding into the murk of self-pity and self-loathing within me, or snatching up my phone to madden myself and obsess over Stephen's missed calls, his text asking to talk. Every time I heard the door, my eyes snapped over, half expecting to see him, but I also knew he wouldn't be so brash or invasive as to try and accost me at work.

It didn't make any of it easier, it certainly didn't make me better able to do my work, and by the time the dinner clientele had yielded for the late night crowd, I just wanted to go home and sleep. Once the bar was dealt with and content, Karyn and I slipped out to the alley, tugging our coats tighter in the nippy wind.

"Okay," Karyn began, fishing out her smokes. "Talk to me, what's up? I probably can't fix anything but talking usually helps... you've been so high strung all night, I just hate seeing you like that."

I opened my mouth but struggled to find any words. I shrugged, and sighed. I heard Karyn's lighter next to me, then a puff of smoke drifted through the alley, a muted bitter scent. I chewed my lip. I didn't even know how to begin to explain it to her.

"You've got it pretty bad, huh?" I blinked then looked over to where she was giving me a small, sympathetic smile. "Come on, I can recognise heartache from a mile away. She cheat on you?"

I inhaled, and paused, then decided to amend my experience somewhat. "I... sort of? I mean no, more like... ugh."

Karyn watched me bury my face in my hands and wipe them down, trying to slough off any expression of petulance before it could form. She grimaced. "Oh... shit. You were--and you didn't know, right?"

I shot Karyn a look. "Karyn come on! Do I look like a homewrecker?"

She shrugged, smirking. "I've seen worse. Anyways, I guess you found out and?"

"Yyyup. It just. It sucks, man. I let myself think for a moment that maybe I could have something, actually be happy, and..." I sighed, leaning my back against the freezing brick. Karyn was right. It didn't feel better to talk about it, per se, but... it felt less like I was boiling over inside, leaving me with a tired weariness, and something closer to an understanding.

"Christ. What a bitch, dude, I'm sorry."

I shrugged, feeling for some nonsensical reason like I needed to explain it. "I mean it's not like--it's--they're married, but-"

"J-Married?! Dude!" Karyn looked at me with a shocked expression. "How'd you find out?"

"Well--okay for one, they're apparently 'separated', which--a-and it's not like I even knew until Saturday, when she just comes waltzing in, and I'm sitting there looking like a tool-"

I watched the way Karyn's face twitched and her brow furrowed for a moment as I spoke. I paused and she cocked her head at me. "She?"

My eyes widened and I opened my mouth before quickly closing it up, practically swallowing my lips. Karyn tilted her head, her inquisitive gaze bolstered. I slowly, sheepishly smiled as I shrugged.

"I... uh, well, I've um... there's this guy..."

Karyn's eyes went wide, as did her giddy smile. She punched me pretty hard in the shoulder. "Oh my god Joe, I had no idea! I mean... I guess I can kind of see it, but-"

"Settle down," I sighed, rolling my eyes, feeling like I'd just yanked the anchor up at high tide. "I just-this is a new development, I just happened to meet him a few weeks ago-"

"Where?"

I paused again, heat rising up through my neck. I gave her a meek grin. "Uh... here?"

Karyn's jaw dropped and she started cackling, hopping in place like a spider monkey. I grinned foolishly and wished I could just hide under my jacket, but to be honest, if there was anyone I could trust it was Karyn, first and foremost. Neither of us were inclined to loose lips, nor carried many judgments about the lifestyles of others. She leaned into the wall next to me, and nudged me with her shoulder. "Okay, is he cute? Ooh, have I seen him? Is he a regular?"

"I--no, he's not a--you little... ugh, I wish I hadn't said anything."

"Bullshit," Karyn laughed. "Look at you, grinning like an idiot. Before you looked like you were gonna toss the drinks at the custies."

I pulled a face, but couldn't disagree. "You have a point, I guess. You, uh... well yeah, I'm pretty sure you all served him, but..."

I fished my phone out of my pocket, found his contact info. My mind sped along, and I pulled up an app. Stephen Gardner... some empty profiles popped up, and a ton of irrelevant people. I scrolled a few moments, chewing on my cheek before concluding that he really didn't seem the type to spend time on socials. A thought occurred however...

Miranda Gardner. A nice row of results, and the third one down immediately caught my eye. Those dark eyes, faintly lined on the edges staring back at me, sent a cold shiver down my spine. I tapped it.

"Who's th... oh, shit," Karyn gasped. I nodded slowly. Her profile picture was her sitting at a table, smiling brightly for whoever sat across. My eye twitched for a moment. Yeah, probably Stephen. I tapped slowly through her photos, forgetting my original plan, studying her and taking her in, the kind of life she'd led. Get togethers, galas, outings. Even in the more candid photos she was dressed to kill, her fluffy hair perfectly coiffed and styled. My breath hitched up as I came to a photo of the two of them standing in front of a massive valley blanketed in trees, somewhere untouched and unsullied, maybe Patagonia or the Congo rainforest. Stephen was dressed in a white linen shirt and rolled up trousers, his arm around Miranda's waist, who was dressed like some caricature of an explorer in matching khakies and a leather outback hat. They were both beaming, reddened with tan, and lacking perhaps a few grays or wrinkles each. I glanced at the caption. From January 24th almost a decade ago, for their... Christ, tenth anniversary.

"Oh, shit, that guy!" Karyn's voice yanked me out of my thoughts. "Yeah, he is... damn. Daddy, right there."

I pulled a face. "Ew, Karyn."

She grinned back at me. "Doesn't do anything for you?"

I raised my brows back to her, a challenging expression. "Would you like it if some guy called you 'Mommy'?"

Karyn looked ready to puke and I chuckled, glancing back down my phone. "And yeah, that's... Stephen."

Karyn nodded, and used her thumb and forefinger to zoom in. "Mm. And you say... they're separated?"

"Y... yeah."

"And you met her?"

I swallowed, recalling Saturday's encounter, the way I'd been paralysed with fear and confusion, only made worse by her terrible, accusatory eyes. "I... you could say that. More like she blew in and out like acid rain."

"And...? How did they...?"

I frowned, sighing, and slipped my phone back into my pocket, and recalled it as best I could. Stephen certainly hadn't been expecting her. Miranda, for her part, seemed more disappointed than really surprised. I thought about how Stephen said they'd been having problems for some time. Thought about how Miranda asked if I was one of his students...

"To be honest? I... I do think they're probably... done with each other? Like. I don't know how to..."

"But that's good, right?"

I looked over to where Karyn was urging me along. And I mean, yes. It would have been far worse if Miranda was still some devoted wife walking in on that scene. Their whole exchange bespoke a couple that had already been through the absolute worst of their conflicts and now engaged in little more than the occasional waning skirmish. I shrugged, sighing. "I... I don't know. I haven't even spoken to him since... all that."

I felt a soft hand on my forearm and looked down. Karyn was looking at me with genuine care and warmth. "Joe. Look, if you're over all this and just want to move on from him, I'm with you all the way. But maybe you should... try and talk with him. Figure it out."

I opened my mouth, feeling an instinctive reaction to argue, to balk, but I quashed it. Karyn was right. I was just running away, and while I could eventually move on with my life, I... I didn't want to? I had been given a taste of how much brighter my life could be, how wanted I could feel, and the prospect of going back to my grey routine afterwards made me want to curl up and cry.

Finally, I nodded, sighing. "You're right. I have to reckon with it, one way or another."

"Good." Karyn gave my arm a little squeeze, and tossed the butt of her smoke into a coffee canister. "Alright, once more into the fray. Probably climbing over the bar, by now."

-------

I cleaned my apartment from top to bottom. Over the course of a day, I swept and scrubbed, bagged up debris and extraneous things--old fliers and mail, packaging, torn socks and garments. I scoured my bathroom and kitchen on hands and knees, pulling on a childhood doing such weekly chores whenever I stayed at my grandmother's for the summer. Oh, how I hated waking up at 7 on a weekend to work like a peasant until well after noon, but it certainly gave me an appreciation for the rigour of the task as I grew older.

I hauled two bags fit to burst out the back door and down the fire escape to the dumpsters. As I tossed them in, a tiny white flake of snow fell, dissolving practically before it hit the ground. I looked up at the first smattering of the season, a bit surprised as the day felt milder than it had been, then turned and headed back up.

Finally, the place was clean and in order... and that left me with no escape from my recursive, obsessive thoughts. I sat on my couch and tried to get back into a game I'd abandoned a couple months ago, but besides the feeling of disconnect from the story after such an absence, I just couldn't focus on the game, constantly finding reasons to get up, or worse, look at my phone.

I gazed down at the lit up texts from Stephen, unread. I hadn't been able to bring myself to delete any of it, or to block his number (a move I felt would be crushing and decisive), but...

I leaned back on my couch, closing my eyes, and took a deep breath. Was I going to do this? I mean I had to, if I wanted to move forward with any kind of future that involved Stephen. I had to hash it out, get the facts. I had to know.

I sat up, and flicked about on my phone, my eyes wide and uncertain. My fingers hovered over the message box. This... felt like a mistake, like the first step into a swamp. But I couldn't go around it. It was through, or back the way I came. I tapped out my message.

"Hey... do you think we can meet for coffee somewhere and just talk? I have... a lot I need to get answers for."

I sighed and set my phone down, then got myself lost in soothing documentaries for a while, learning so much and retaining precious little about the deep sea, the Andean mountain range, and nomadic Mongolian cooking and preservation methods. At some point I dozed off and woke up in the early evening with a sore neck from laying on the armrest. I yawned and stretched, lamenting the knot that had formed, before absentmindedly snatching up my phone. A notification. I tapped it, snapping awake fully.

"Sure. How does tomorrow at 10 sound, at Greenhouse?"

Okay. Things were in motion. "Greenhouse, 10. See you then."

I sighed, adrenaline and tension easing out of me and leaving me rubbery and weak, but less stressed, more at ease, and I hadn't even gotten to the bones of the issue yet. The first step really is among the toughest, I suppose, and simply getting it out of the way-booking the appointment, sending the e-mail, leaving the house-was monumental.

I got up and started prepping some dinner, humming to myself as I worked.

-------

Greenhouse was an apt name. The cafe was in the downtown core, a stone's throw from the train station that regularly commuted people to and from Sister City by the tens of thousands daily, and had large skylights to imitate a full greenhouse structure. The inside was half cafe, half conservatory, with ivy running up the exposed brick on wooden trellises, potted snake plants in every corner, ferns and succulents across the tables and benches. Though busy and buzzing with conversation, it wasn't filled with bodies, and I could see my companion already sitting at a table, facing away, towards a large vivarium. I hurried to the counter, and a bubbly woman greeted me. "Hey, what can I get you today?"

"Just a... er, I'll have a latte," I managed, annoyed at my nerves already blinking on me. The barista punched up my total then immediately got to work, tearing through the process with an impressive speed and practised rhythm. It reminded me of watching Karyn on the bar. No wild flair or tricks, just enough panache and ease to make it look almost like juggling.

I collected my cup atop its matching saucer and walked over to the table with a chord of trepidation layered over resolve. Forward. Don't stumble.

I rounded the table, and looked down at Miranda, who offered me a civil smile, and gestured to sit. Her tea didn't look like she'd so much as sipped it yet, still curling off steam next to a pink and white orchid. For a moment I felt horribly underdressed in my straight cut jeans and long sleeve cotton shirt. I'd gone for more masculine, arguably unisex clothes, feeling it might be less of an... affront? But seeing Miranda in a tailored black jacket over a white silk blouse made me feel like I was on my back foot. I lowered myself to my seat.

"So... You're Jo, is it?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but closed it and nodded mutely instead. Already I felt on the defensive. Clearly she'd been mining Stephen for info. I wrapped my hands around the large, round cup, making the rosetta design atop the crema quiver. Miranda nodded, working her lips. "And to be clear, you're not one of his students, yeah?"

There was a weariness in Miranda's question, and she eyed me intently. I shook my head, but decided I needed to speak. I cleared my throat, pushing my hair over my shoulder nervously. "N... no, god no, I'm a... I work in the service industry. Serving, bartending."

I quickly lifted my latte and sipped at it, hoping it might help calm me. It didn't. Miranda nodded once decisively. "Okay. Good, that's..."

She tilted her head wryly as if to say it's the least she could ask of him, and I felt my stomach clench. I bit my cheek, then asked the question I'd been most wary of. "Did Stephen have an affair with one of his students?"

Miranda stared at me a few moments as if gauging whether I was pulling her leg. I realised I'd just blurted that out, but there wasn't much of a tactful way to broach the question. I blinked a few times but held her gaze. She lowered her eyes, nodding, and reached for her tea.

"It was... well, to say it was a long time ago feels like a lie. Something like that doesn't get easier with time," she began testily. "It was after he started teaching. Before we got engaged, so I mean I guess I..."

The knot in my stomach shifted, but remained steady. Little by little I was peeling away the layers of paint that hid the image beneath, and I was enthralled. "That's still not... great," I offered. "It... never happened again?"

Miranda shook her head, smirking humourlessly. "I mean an instructor messing about with a student? Probably a tale as old as time... but you can't really keep that kind of thing under wraps. Someone sees something, and tells someone else, and then it gets around... I didn't want to believe my friend when she told me but all it took was a simple question and he broke. Pathetic, really."

I sipped my latte again. She didn't need to say the rest. After that kind of confrontation, he'd be on a short leash of his own design, whether she was keeping tabs or not.

"What is it about you, though?"

Miranda's question blindsided me and I gaped back at her. "I... about me?"

She nodded, her smoky amber eyes drilling into mine. "I don't get it. I mean even beyond..." She tightened her lips, gesturing vaguely. "You just aren't his... type."

"Uh..." I laughed nervously, unsure. "What do you mean? I mean, I... I gu-guess-"

"You know the kind of woman Stephen dated before me? The kind he cheated on me with? Trust me when I say he has a 'type'. Which tends to make a girl feel a bit... cheapened. Like I just ticked all the boxes."

I swallowed, shrinking as her long-simmering venom dripped over me with each word. I considered what she meant though. Miranda and I could not be more different, even beyond the issues and intricacies of gender. I was tall and lanky compared to her, shorter and buxom. She was fair, pink lipped, red-haired, and I was dark of hair and complexion, unable to so much as naturally blush. A speckle of what might be rosacea ran across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, but just looked like rosy freckles.

"To be honest, I don't know what it... what any of it even 'is'," I sighed, fidgeting with the cup and saucer. "Stephen definitely didn't match my, well, 'type', so to speak, either, so..."

"Huh." Miranda sat back, but still eyed me intently. She sipped her tea pensively. I thought back to when we'd met. The bar, or at work... even back then, did he catch my eye? What was it that drew us to one another? Loneliness? Fate? Maybe just coincidence?

"But you two are... you're not together, anymore, or...? I-ugh. I just don't know how to feel about all this. I've never..." I trailed off, lowering my temples into my hands. "I just--I never meant to-"

"Oh, hun," Miranda soothed me. "It's not--I don't blame you, if I even blame anyone... look, that's just not the scene I expected to walk in on, is all. I can't expect him to be some... penitent monk for the rest of his life."

I looked up, and Miranda was gazing at me with a softer expression now. I realised she didn't hate me, or even dislike me. How else was someone to feel if they walk into what is, by all rights their own home, to see the one they spent two decades or more with playing house with some new, younger person? Again, I felt a swell of apology but bit my tongue. If I started, I wouldn't stop.

"Actually, I can't remember the last time I saw him in the kitchen like that," she mused. "He used to be a regular Emeril. Uh... a chef, maybe before your-"

"I know who Emeril is," I replied, chuckling softly. Miranda's lip twitched, curling into the beginnings of a charming smile.

"Sorry, just... anyway, I... I guess he likes you. Well enough to have you over and get out the apron again."

We sipped our drinks quietly as I considered her words, tacit approval. I looked up at her, gazing off to the side at some passing traffic. "He stopped?"

Miranda's eyes flashed over mine and for a moment I saw a steely veil again, but it dissipated. "Yeah... used to be he'd be first up and get us both breakfast ready, which was a great help when I had a meeting or conference first thing. Supper was always a dinner party in itself." She smiled wistfully. "But, well..."

She shrugged, then turned her attention back to her tea. I understood, and didn't push it. This isn't your business, she was saying, and she was right. All I really needed to know was that Miranda and Stephen were well and truly split, and that she didn't hate my guts. Still, though, sitting across from her, I saw a proud woman, gorgeous and still young enough to completely change course in life. A captain in her own right. I leaned my elbow on the table and sipped my latte, finally really tasting and appreciating it. "Meetings, conferences... what is it you do? Not teach as well."

"Oh, god no," Miranda laughed, before sighing. "It's hard enough to corral half a dozen capricious investors, let alone a lecture hall full of smartasses. No, I'm a marketing consultant. Did a stint as a director for Gray Ford Development for a while but I prefer to make my own hours."

God, she was cool. I couldn't imagine just casually saying that. "Wish I could say the same. Rare's the night I get to sleep before dawn."

Miranda laughed at that, and asked me about the industry, and then... then we were just chatting. Just actually getting to know one another without some ominous point of reference. She was hilarious, cutting and wry, and I saw everything Stephen must have in her. This was a woman I would have puppydogged for hard when I was in my teens and 20s.

About an hour later we both stood to leave, and I awkwardly reached out my hand. She took it, and placed her other hand over the back, shaking once, softly.

"I'm... glad I came out to talk to you. I think I needed it more for myself than anything, but... you... you seem good. For him, for... just a good person." She searched my eyes, and nodded, smiling. I smiled back, still feeling a bit uncertain, but reassured, buoyed up by her words.

"I... thanks. Thank you, I mean."

"Ah, stop. And um." She chewed her lip for a moment, than inhaled. "Just. Take care of him, will you?"

Miranda left, and I stood for a few moments watching her go, feeling the whole encounter run through me as if it was a dream I was trying to hold onto the tail end of. I finished my latte, than dropped the cup and saucer in a nearby bin for dishes, before stepping out to the sidewalk.

Stephen and I needed to have a little chat.

-------

I walked into the kitchen as Vic slammed a serving spoon into the sink. "Goddammit, Carla!"

I stood back for a moment, taking stock of the situation. The pass was nearly full of plates and Carla stood before it, one in her hand. One I'd seen her puttering about with looking lost moments earlier. She pouted and whined.

"No, not nnn, don't nnn at me," Vic shouted, pouting back at her as he imitated her. "That shit might work on Pete and these other--you know what, just drop it, get the fuck out of my kitchen for a hot minute."

"Jeez, fine, you friggin jerk," Carla spat, dropping the plate. She snatched up another two and turned on her heel, theatrically throwing her nose up before sashaying away. I walked over to where Vic was collecting himself, my brows raised.

"You uh. Need anything? Ice water?"

Vic shook his head and adjusted his cap, before looking over at me and nodding. "You're a real one, Jojo, I appreciate that. Nah, I just gotta get back to it. God knows I come to work just to make food some halfpint server puts to waste."

"Ah, her batting average isn't much worse than Karyn's," I opined, loading the other three plates across an arm and in my free hand. "Hell, or mine."

That got a bit of a chuckle out of Vic. "Oh yeah, I've got a position lined up at the Rooster, old kitchen manager quit. They're looking for a couple bartenders too... pretty sure my word could get some sway there."

I gave him a half smile. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, like I said, you're a real one. I wouldn't mind workin with you again. Just keep Carla the fuck away from the place."

I laughed, and went to drop off the food. During a lull in service I found myself standing next to Karyn behind the bar. We each surveyed the room for empty plates or glassware. Karyn cleared her throat quietly, still scanning the room.

"So uh... how's it all going with um...?"

I inhaled. "Ahh..."

"N-never mind, you don't gotta tell me if-"

"No," I cut in, glancing over at her. "It's fine, it's that I'm still... kinda putting it off? Which is funny, since I had no problem meeting the wife, which...-"

"You met-you met with her?" Karyn luckily caught her loud, surprised voice and lowered it to a conspiratorial whisper, turning to face me fully, her eyes alight with delight at the prospect of juicy info. I sighed, smiling weakly, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"I... yeah, I had to. To get answers, to know for sure, and I mean who else could I ask? And I guess I figured... well I took a chance and it paid off," I finished clumsily, shrugging.

"How so?"

"Well I got confirmation they're pretty much done, save for the papers. And... confirmation in other ways, I suppose."

"Huh. That's... less explosive than I was expecting." Oh, Karyn. She sounded almost displeased.

I snorted. "You and me both. But now... I just. I don't know. He's not quite the man I thought he was."

Karyn crossed her arms, leaning her hip into the keg fridge as she gave me her maternal treatment. "Well... not to pry, but is it a dealbreaker?"

"I..." I stopped and mulled it over. "Kind of, yeah. I couldn't stand the idea of being the 'other person', I could never be okay with y'know, infidelity."

"You don't think he could be faithful?" She gazed at me with some concern.

I opened my mouth and was at a loss. I sighed heavily. "That's what I've got to make sure of, I guess."

I left work and headed to my local dive, sipping away at a bottle of cheap pilsener as I ran in circles in my head. The music thudded around me and made me feel like I was having some kind of out of body experience. I waved over the bartender and ordered a shot of whiskey, which I promptly knocked back. My head began to swim, and I decided to head home once I was finished my drink. I glanced about the room, full of other sad sack drinkers save for a table or two of laughing friends, or the three playing darts across the bar. I took out my phone and stared at it for a few moments, then gingerly, as though creaking open a door, opened my messages, for the first time reading what Stephen had sent.

"I can't blame you for leaving, or if you really don't ever want to see me again, and if that's the case, I won't ever bother you again, but I do care about you, Jo, and I do very much like you. I don't know how better to explain it, and I'm not good with any big flowery, romantic speeches. I just know you really made an impression on me, made me happy, especially at a time where I kind of felt that was out of my reach. I know I've been an idiot, and I should have just told you my situation up front, but I worried, well... that exactly this would happen. Please, just call me or text me and let me explain myself. And if you don't, well... I still hope the best, the world for you. You deserve better than me, and better than you think for yourself."

I didn't realise I had tears leaking down the sides of my face until I sobbed messily, gasping for air. The bartender looked over in alarm, and I turned away, clutching my beer. No one else so much as batted an eye.

Karyn was right. I had it bad, and it tore me up inside. I left the beer on the counter, half done, dropped a couple bills next to it, and drifted out of the bar, wiping my eyes. I needed to get some sleep.

-------

The next morning I rose like Lazarus from the grave, coming out of an opaque sleep into an almost immediate wakefulness. My head still buzzed a bit, but was otherwise sharp and clear, and other than a grumbling belly, I wasn't in terrible shape. Which was good, as I'd come to a decision.

I showered, shaved, went about my other rituals of moisturising and styling, then found myself some suitable clothes for the day. I returned to the bathroom and breathed slowly to calm myself and steady my hands, then set to work with some cosmetics.

By 10, I felt good and ready, twisting to doublecheck everything worked in the mirror. I nodded resolutely, then walked into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. As I stood by the window, chewing a fried egg on a piece of burnt, buttered toast, sipping my almost-just-right coffee, I couldn't help but think of the impromptu brunch Stephen had whipped up a couple weeks past. A dry, passing thought: at least I knew where my stomach stood on the matter. I smirked, and swallowed the last bite before washing it down with the last of my coffee. I checked the time, grabbed my coat, a stylish short trench, slipped into my pumps, and was out the door.

The bus didn't take long-it was on one of the main streets, so reliably one came wheezing down the road every ten minutes or so. I didn't get much of a second glance, past some lingering looks from the odd young guy. One gave me a small smile, which I probably butchered in return before turning to face out the window, wide eyed. My heart pulsed in my throat. I had yet to be out and out in broad daylight. I kept expecting stares or some rude comment, but none came, and soon I was relaxing.

Less than 20 minutes later I stepped out onto the main campus, and started up along the cobbled brick walk. The physical layout itself was familiar enough-though I hadn't gone here, I had friends who had, and it being in the middle of the city made it more or less a thoroughfare for pedestrians. The bitter wind blew crackling leaves across the walk and nipped at my nylon encased legs beneath my knee-length pencil skirt. Tucked into that was a smart white linen blouse with a high collar. I'd carefully combed my hair with a side part and gathered it behind my head before suspending it with a claw clip. All in all I'd aimed for a kind of sexy academic look. Something more professional, mature. And it worked, I felt myself strut along with purpose, iron girding my veins.

I got to the Faculty of Law building, large and Edwardian, and stepped inside, my wide eyes swivelling about, half expecting to suddenly see him, but that didn't occur. Instead I saw one bored looking woman sitting behind a desk with a receiver to her ear, twirling a pen in her hand. She barely glanced up as I approached, her tired eyes scanning a computer screen. Suddenly she spoke.

"Hello?"

I blinked, stopping short, and was opening my mouth to respond when she suddenly sat forward. "No-no I need to-don't put me back on-... great. Fantastic." She sighed shakily, slumping forward on the desk, then lowered the receiver an inch, nodding up at me. "Help you miss?"

I swallowed, inhaled, and tried for the softest, highest register I could naturally achieve, or as I considered it, my customer service voice. "Y-yes, I just need directions to ehm... Professor Gardner's office--I had some questions about-"

Before I could so much as get the words out, the lady was pointing back towards the stairs with her pen. "Second floor, end of the hall. Door's got a plaque. Don't count on him being there right now though, think he's got a--Hello? Hello? Yes, listen-"

I stepped carefully away from the desk as the secretary fell into another fit of conniptions. I didn't envy her, she'd probably been at it for hours, and would for hours more. And between that and her dismissive, bare acknowledgement, I didn't think she'd come looking for me. Nonetheless I eyed her warily as I crept up the stairs.

The second floor was empty, saved for a selection of closed doors, a couple of which were washrooms. I heard some muffled conversation behind a nearby door--Prof. HIGGINS was emblazoned across a brass sheet screwed to the door. I turned and moved up the hall, thankful for the old carpeted floors muffling my heels. I reached the door at the end. The plaque read Prof. GARDNER. I swallowed, hearing my pulse in my ears, then reached up and rapped my knuckles on the heavy wooden door.

There was no immediate response, and I cleared my throat as I tried the knob... and it gave. The door swung open before me, to the gloom of a mostly well kept, tiny office, made smaller for the stacks of texts and journals laying about, too numerous for the already fully housed shelving. Immediately I felt like an intruder, but I also felt the swell of mystique and mischief that sneaking about and uncovering someone's little intricacies can bring. With one last glance behind to the empty hall, I stepped into the office and closed the door quietly behind me.

My eyes swept over the scene. I imagined Stephen sitting hunched at his desk, scribbling away at papers and essays with a red pen, beneath the glow of his green desk lamp. I walked over and pushed out his chair, a nice leather armchair mounted on wheels, and sank into it, feeling its firm cushioning. I leaned back as I gazed out through the Venetian slats over the bleary window, watching people walk across the quad. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 10 minutes or so to go.

I found myself nearly tearing my hair out in that span of time, feeling sudden spikes of panic that demanded I run, just forget this stupid endeavour and go home, only for that to be washed over with a cool, steely certainty, that this would get me the answer I needed, if not the one I wanted--I tried to peer out the window to see if I could catch him approaching, but besides not being able to make out much of anyone about, I also, crucially, couldn't see the walk directly in front of the entrance. I stood and paced, and was halfway to the door, rationalising that I should probably just await him in the lobby, when I heard footfalls on the landing, and some voices. Loud laughter-my eyes shot to the door and my pulse jumped. His laughter.

"Yeah, of course-yep, I'll uh... sometime this week! See you!"

I watched the knob turn, almost as if in slow motion. The door swung open and Stephen stepped into the room, sighing, already wearing a harassed expression. He saw me, standing in the centre of the office, stock still, staring back at him, and nearly dropped his briefcase. His eyes widened and he worked his mouth wordlessly for a second, then whipped his head back over his shoulder, before hurrying into the office and shutting the door behind him.

"J-Jo! You... what are you... I... I thought you uh..." He lowered his eyes.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, uh... I just. I woke up today and realised we need to talk about this. Face to face. And I'm not... great at confrontation so..." I shrugged. "I figured I'd just. Throw myself into it."

Stephen nodded, raising his eyes to meet mine. There was contrition there, and a bit of sorrow. "I should apologise, off the bat, I think," Stephen began. I didn't challenge him, merely crossed my arms and tilted my head. "I uh. This probably all could have been avoided if..."

"You think? I mean, jeez, Stephen, a wife, that's not something you just--omit."

He raised his hands appealingly. "I... you're right. Again, I'm just... I'm so sorry. I never wanted to cause you any pain... but it's kind of late to be saying that, I suppose."

I nodded, then took a deep breath, crossing to his desk. I sat on the edge, watching him, and chewed my cheek. I launched into my first question.

"Who was the student you cheated on Miranda with?"

I saw him visibly wince, something like pain ripping across his eyes, and truly, I felt for him in that moment, but I clutched my upper arms tightly and held my gaze steady. He had to explain himself. He had to make me understand.

"I... hoo. That's an old wound."

"Consider it payment for a new wound," I replied coolly. Stephen nodded slowly, and ceded the point. He walked over to stand in front of the desk, and set his briefcase down. He slipped his hands in his pockets and sighed deeply, turning to stare out the window.

"... Her name was Iris. Clever, smart as a whip... a bit of a flirt. But I--I know, none of it is on her. I was a teacher, an instructor, albeit a new one, and 6 years her senior."

"And... you and Miranda were getting pretty serious around then, yeah?"

Stephen nodded. "Yeah, we'd been dating for a couple years by then, steady... she was on the far end of getting her bachelor's degree and there was a lot of... talk of a possible engagement."

"Possible? More like certain."

Stephen chuckled sadly at that, and leaned against the window frame. "Yeah, that's... yeah. But there I was, 27 years old, just beginning to step into my own, and... I don't know. I felt..."

I sighed, turning to face him. "I swear to god, if you say trapped..."

He glanced over, giving me a half smile. "Well I was a dumbass, a complete... shitheel. It's like I was looking for reasons, excuses to feel like what I had was inadequate, wasn't enough. And then there was Iris. Piping up in class, sticking around after a lecture to bug me with questions she could save for the tutorial... she stuck out. And then one day after class, we just kind of..."

"Just kind of?"

"I--listen it was years ago, and that's-I'm not trying to minimise it, it's more... I barely even remember what she looked like at this point, let alone who initiated it. But... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to duck responsibility. I'm not low enough to claim she 'seduced' me."

"Good." I kept my eyes steady on his and he swallowed, then ran a hand through his hair.

"It uh... didn't last long. Iris was a young woman, had young friends, and..." He shrugged resignedly. "When Miranda called me out on it, what could I do? Lie? She was... furious. Took weeks to get back to a point where she'd at least talk to me, and bit more before she'd look at me, but..."

I studied him, standing there unsure and wary, but doing his part to hold himself with some dignity and present himself with honesty. I turned on the desk to face him fully, crossing my legs at the ankle. "She must have sensed some sincerity if she not only took you back, but agreed to marriage. And not for any short stretch of time. I wasn't about to badger her for the reason-"

"Wait. You talked to Miranda?"

Stephen looked shell-shocked. I couldn't help but smirk a little. "Yeah, had a girls day out and all, actually. Relax, Stephen. We weren't cooking up some scheme to off you. I just... I needed some answers I wouldn't... second-guess."

Stephen nodded slowly. "And this is the cross-examination."

"You said it, not I," I quipped. "So. Tell me. What ends a 19 year marriage?"

Stephen pushed himself off the wall, and laughed a couple times humourlessly. "If I had to tell you I guess I'd say... resentment?"

I narrowed my eyes, urging him to continue. He walked over, and sat next to me on the desk, facing a wall of books. "It wasn't any single, explosive transgression... nothing like Iris. It's like... we let ourselves drift more and more apart. Value different things and different goals, and one day you wake up and it's still the same person you fell in love with, just as... beautiful, and smart, and funny as the day you met, but... the yearning is gone. We'd go days without so much as seeing each other sometimes. Miranda, she uh... she liked having people over, and I'm just not much of a host. To say nothing of get togethers.... she kinda just stopped bothering me with it all, and I guess I thought that worked just fine. Just another fathom building between us."

I breathed slowly, imbibing his sad words, and I could hear the truth in them. I thought back to all the little signs that added up to a picture that could only ever be inspected in hindsight. Signs I noticed and chose to disregard. I felt like a fool, as much at fault for my current predicament as he was.

"I uh. Not that I expect it to smooth anything over--it's more that it's been a long time..." He turned to me. "I've gotten the divorce proceedings underway."

I blinked taken genuinely by surprise. "Oh."

"Yyyeah," Stephen replied. "It'll be amicable enough. Miranda will want the house and deserves it, given she did pretty much all the interior work and furnishing, and... well."

I gazed over at him, half in disbelief. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll be fine... already found some nice condos to audit. And I've got Bella."

I smiled. "Of course."

We sat for a few moments in a stretch of silence, before Stephen cleared his throat. "Jo... I just. I want to say-"

"Stop," I said, cutting him off. His mouth snapped shut, and I heaved myself up and off the desk, walking slowly to stand in front of him. He looked up at me with attentive, despairingly hopeful eyes, and I felt that old quiver through my chest. I walked up to him until my knees were nearly touching his legs, and crossed my arms. "Stephen... I don't even know why I like you. I mean I do, and there are plenty of good reasons, but none of them make the kind of sense I'm used to. And it's fucking with me. It keeps me up and makes my mind crazy, and..."

I stopped myself, realising I was babbling, and took a shaky breath. I reached up and placed my hands on his shoulders, and locked my eyes on his. "Stephen, I need to know you'll never cheat on me."

I felt his hands softly land on my hips, and he nodded slowly. "Never."

My left hand drifted to the strong base of his neck, my right to softly stroke a thumb along his temple. "I mean it, Stephen. I'm not as good a woman as Miranda, if you're unfaithful you will never see me again."

He tugged me forward gently, widening his legs and shifting himself to the edge of the desk. "I promise, Josie."

"And you can't get tired of me," I added unreasonably, running my fingers over his lips, my eyes hooding over as I gazed down at him. He pulled me against him.

"Never," he murmured. "Not in a million years." He tugged me closer, and I fell into his embrace, my lips meeting his like one sea flowing against the next. I moaned and giggled happily as I felt him support me while I collapsed into a pile of goo. My heart burst with fireworks and my mind clanged with giddy bells, but my body grew manic, ravenous, and I ground myself up between his legs as I searched his mouth with my tongue. I felt a growing stiffness and laughed lewdly against his lips. I ran my hand down his midsection, but felt his sudden grip on my wrist before I could reach his belt.

"Wait. We... we shouldn't-"

"I won't tell if you don't," I breathed against his lips, before laying another kiss. "Besides, it's not like it's your first time doing this kind of thing."

His eyes flashed, and for the first time since he walked in, he gave me a look that wasn't one of imminent defeat. "You're the devil."

"You love it," I smirked, and wrenched my hand free to caress his bulge. I felt his breath hitch for a moment, and then his hands were under the coat, gripping me by the seat of my skirt. It was my turn to bite my lip.

"Josie, this building is over a century old--you can hear everything-"

"It's not that bad," I cooed. "Just... find some way to keep me quiet." With that, I started to slip to my knees, and Stephen watched looking as if he was doing his best to think of a reason we should stop. I knew he wouldn't find one.

I knelt before him and ran my hands up the inner thighs of his dark slacks, running them wide of his crotch, before meeting at his belt to get him unbuckled. I unbuttoned and unzipped the trousers, and curled my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, peeling both down, just far enough to free him, straining to stand tall. I smiled, thumbing the base softly. It was as pretty as the first time I laid eyes on it. I moved up close, my breath glancing off the winking head, and turned my eyes up to Stephen. He gave me something of a tortured smile. Oh, poor baby. I pressed my face in, pushed my tongue to the underside of his shaft, and ran a wet line up to the head, never breaking my eyes from his. I pulled off, then repeated the process. Stephen gripped the edge of the desk with clenched, white knuckled fists, and leaned his head back to hiss out a long sigh. "Christ, Josie."

"You like it?" I swiped my tongue along the side of his cock, making it jump. "You like my mouth on you?"

"Yes, you goddamned tease," Stephen chuckled, throwing a hand over his eyes. "Fuck, god."

I hummed out a giggle, then brought up my knees to get a better angle. I took his prick in both hand, and lowered my mouth, letting my tongue dip down, and in a moment I had my drool dripping over his glans and down the shaft. I started to pump slowly, twisting either way with both hands. Stephen's thighs clenched and straightened. I heard him exhale a snarl above me. "Oouh. That's kind of-"

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale as, without warning, I threw my mouth over his cock, sliding as much as I could manage toward my throat. One hand fell away from his length as my mouth overtook it, and I drew close to the second saliva slicked fist when I felt him press against my throat. I coughed, and pulled back a bit, but only got an inch or two of leeway before I met Stephen's commanding hand on the back of my head. I looked up at him, his eyes dark, glazed with domineering lust, and I breathed carefully, before swallowing him whole. I let him set the pace, pleased at my growing prowess, and as I lowered myself for the umpteenth time, my mouth pressed snugly about his root, I felt him jump and twitch, and resolved to stay there for a few moments. I ran my shaky fingers up, under his shirt, gripping at the lines of his stomach-

Stephen yanked me off him, his cock sliding from my mouth with several thick strands clinging to it. I coughed, and wiped my mouth, but was grabbed roughly by the shoulders, and pulled up--Stephen's mouth was on mine again, and my mind spun-didn't he mind that my mouth had just been all over his dick? I didn't have time to consider this, as I was turned and pushed forward to the desk, my palms slapping over it. I shot Stephen a challenging look over my shoulder, then dropped lower and widened my legs, feeling the skirt ride up. Stephen did the rest, yanking it to bunch up over my lower back, and snatched at my backside, running his ring and middle fingers along the valley between my cheeks, pressing against the nylon and fabric beneath. I purred, arching my back, and after a moment, felt him yank my garments down to my thighs. My panties tugged past my stiffening member, and I quivered, my body's sense heightening as I waited for-

The smack resounded in the small office and I jolted, yelping. Stephen tsked behind me. "What happened to staying quiet?"

"That's--oh, you old-" I grunted as he smacked my ass a second time, real swats that left my cheeks stinging curiously.

"It's alright," Stephen murmured, his lips against my ear. I shivered, feeling him pushed up against me, the slimy head of his cock pressing against my straining asshole. "I've got a fix."

He pushed my face towards his and kissed me again, craning his neck down to seal his open mouth over mine. I played my tongue against his, focusing on the pleasure-

He pushed steadily into me, and I felt my knees buckle under the sudden pressure, but he caught me, held me steady. I cried into his mouth a few times as he continued to enter me, growing delirious as the pain and involuntary reactions jolted through me. What had I been thinking? I could barely handle this thing with lube, let alone little more than spit. But something else was happening, something strange, and that's that I was getting harder. Stephen was taking his time, likely due as much to how tight I was as to his own consideration for me, and that was enough for me to slowly get used to it. As he felt me bounce and push onto him, he tugged and pushed himself, sliding deeper...

His pelvis pressed up against my butt. I hung over the desk on elbows and clenched fists, shuddering and sweating. I felt Stephen's hand on my lower back.

"Can I start moving?"

I gasped for breath, then nodded. "Yes, please yes."

He drew back, and I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head. That alone, as he pulled over my sweet spot-and then he slammed back in. My eyes flew open but failed to properly focus, and my mouth twisted in something like a surprised sneer. I managed a shaky breath a second later. "Oh my fucking god, Ste-"

He pulled out again and my jaw clenched, only for him to thrust back into me with enough force to make me jump. I looked over my shoulder wildly to where he stood behind me, gripping my hips and thrusting away with an increasing tempo, but a consistent, shocking force. I strangled back another cry and slipped my knuckle between my teeth.

This felt way too good.

Maybe it was just the distance from the first time he'd ravaged me. Maybe it was because we'd more or less become official. Either way, I couldn't stand it, his cock ran up through me, wreaking havoc and chaos through my heart and soul. Despite my efforts, I started spilling out cries of increasing passion. Stephen hunched over me. "Come on, Josie, make an effort!"

"I--hnn! I c-c-can--hnnnn! Can't! Oh god Stephen your dick is so good, I can't-"

His hand wrapped over my mouth, and I squeaked and moaned but my volume had effectively been lowered. He bore down on me, his heavy chest pressing me flat to the desk, and I could hear his pants and grunts against my ear. He gripped my hip with his free hand, slamming himself into me over and over-

He must have felt me clenching and shuddering, because he slowed, easing up, and laughed quietly. "Ooh, someone couldn't hold it, huh?"

All I could manage was a small groan, and jerked my hips up and back. Stephen pulled way, his hand releasing my gasping mouth, and I felt him tug free of me. I immediately whimpered, missing him.

"Let me see." I wasn't sure what he meant at first, but he tugged me to my shaky feet, and with thumb and forefinger, lifted the front of my skirt. The interior was streaked with a clear fluid, and my cock ebbed and shrank. Stephen's mouth curled into a smile. I laughed, sitting back onto the desk before I collapsed. "What? Surprised?"

Stephen shot me a look, smirking. "Smartass. No... it's just nice to see proof positive I've still got it."

I gazed down at his erection, still strong. "Yeah you do."

"Lay back." I did as he directed, and he lifted my legs as he pushed himself up to me. I wrapped my ankles about his waist, and his prick pushed up against mine, practically squashing it. He reached down and gently unbuttoned my blouse, freeing my torso, and ran his hand over one breast and down my belly. I shivered, but lay back and watched him, willing him to fuck me again, and again, and again. He looked down into my eyes, and all I saw there was desire, reflected back at me. He slipped his hands around my bare cheeks, squeezing and kneading, and adjusted himself-I inhaled as he reentered me, my arms flying up to reach for him--he leaned down, throwing his mouth over mine as I threw my arms around his neck. His prick thundered back into me fully and I cried out into his mouth, clutching about him with my arms, my legs, my hole.

He fucked me like a beast, and I melted to the desk, hazy, fluttering, feeling like I was halfway to heaven. In and out. In and out. He pulled up off me and I lay back, my arms flung out above me, dangling off the other end of the desk. In and out. He adjusted his angle and thrust up against my prostate directly. My eyes crossed and my body bucked. "F-fuck!"

Stephen grinned down at me, sweat pouring over his brow. "Yeah?"

"Ffffuck yesss," I slurred. He did it again. And again-

I started howling, and then there was a hand on my throat. My neck seized and I snatched his arm with both hands, but he squeezed gently, just enough to stifle my cries, just enough to make me want it-

He thrust away tirelessly, his free hand pawing at my chest, twisting and tugging my nipples, massaging my breasts roughly. My hands scrabbled up his arm, clutching and caressing what I could as I swivelled my hips in time with his delicious rhythm. I was so close, so so so close-I felt myself holding my breath even beyond the firm grip Stephen had upon me- My eyes widened, my mouth falling open in a panicked, pleading expression, one Stephen read plainly-

"Mm! Nnii!" I cried out in complete surprise. Stephen's free hand had slid away from my breasts, down over my twitching belly, and enveloped my stiff, cum-slicked prick. He squeezed it, fully concealing it in his strong grip, and stroked it roughly as he fucked me.

"I love seeing you cum," Stephen muttered, peering down at me with dark, predatory eyes. "Love seeing the way you lose all... nngh... semblance of reason... just another animal, lost in the rut."

I grinned up at him, a torn rictus of giddy joy and mindless lust. Yeah, that's me... just another animal. Mount me, fuck me...

"Are you gonna cum for me? While I--ffuck you on my desk? Hm? Come to my job just to get folded up and fucked?"

I giggled madly, grinning wider. I clutched his arm for dear life, feeling my back arch. My eyes rolled up into my head and my breath quickened-

"Cum. Cum all over yourself for me, you little slut."

My body clenched and twisted and I exploded into his palm as he thrust into me again--his fist worked feverishly, squeezing out every last dribble--I tried to regain focus but all I could make out were the spines of books lined across a shelf--I hauled myself up onto my elbows. Stephen continued to fly into me, his neck straining. I reached down and took his hand gently, and he let me peel it from around me and pull it up to my lips. I kissed his glistening fingers as I moaned, sucked them into my mouth-

"Fuck," Stephen panted. I crossed my ankles behind his back, tugged him in tighter, sucked his fingers deep as I looked up at him, claiming him, marking him, and with a low growl he started to cum, pulsing out rope after rope as his thrusts slowed, until he pressed fully in and collapsed to his forearms, pinning be to the desk. We each struggled for breath, and I watched as he wearily raised his head to face me. My smile was slow, but deep, sincere. He leaned forward, kissing me again and again as he softened within me.

"You're stuck with me now," I sighed. "No ifs ands or buts."

"Good," He murmured, and slowly straightened to his feet, groaning and stretching. My legs fell aside, releasing him. "Oh. Fuck, that took it out of me."

"You okay old man?" I sat up on the desk, tugging at my undergarments. "Need a massage?"

"Not right now, since-" He glanced up at the clock and let out a sigh of relief, doing up his pants. "Well, since I have another class in a half hour, but... what are your plans tonight?"

I slipped off the desk straightening out my skirt, thankful it was double pleated and wouldn't show through. I started on my blouse, and drifted over. "Mm, I might be busy. I've got this new boyfriend, see. A professor, even."

Stephen grinned down at me, and slid his arm around my waist. He lay a kiss against the edge of my brow. "Dinner?"

"Sure. Let's do my place, this time."

He kissed me again, and saw me off with a spank. I stopped for a moment in the washroom to tidy up, and was glad that aside from some hair in disarray and faded lipstick, I didn't look very obviously well fucked. I skipped down the steps, and past the receptionist who was still on hold, her head clutched in her hands, and out to the front walk.

The wind gusted up, fluttering over me, making my loose hair fly about my face. I smiled, welcoming it. My day, week, my whole life suddenly looked a whole lot brighter. I headed back up the road, and thought about what I should pick up for dinner.