Tag Archives: wicked wednesday

Eliza’s fingers lingered on her lips. Sitting next to Oscar at the bar, her fingers remained still. She wanted to keep the warmth, wanted to keep the sensation…the sensation of his kiss there. She had forgotten, but now that he had kissed her again, she remembered every kiss they had ever had. This kiss was like their first kiss all over again, it was like meeting him all over again.And he wanted to forget her…

She closed the door of her hotel room behind her when she returned to it. Her eyes lingered on a photograph taken by Fiona, that she brought with her. She wondered if Fiona was lost in the deal? They had been through a lot together, she was her sister because she practically had been for so long. They had even managed to survive Shanghai, and everything it had detailed…

The photograph had been a gift after she was newly engaged to Rafe. It was a detail of a woman’s legs, with a necklace draped over her thighs that said, “oui.”

“Because you said yes to Rafe…” Fiona had said when she presented her with the photograph.

Eliza smiled when she saw that she had a missed call from Fiona, but did she know yet? It was the dead of night…

Pressing herself to the door, her fingers were still on her lips. When she moved them, it felt like Oscar kissed her again. That he had said that he kissed her because he wanted to forget kissing her…

She closed her eyes, but tears did not come. Tears had stopped coming, because she really did believe she had used up their well.

The soft knock on her room door was against her hip. Eliza knew it was Oscar, but she did not want to open the door. What would be on the other side of it but Oscar telling her he loved her, but not enough? It was too much for her to hear that from him again…

She turned and looked out into the hallway, and she saw Oscar’s face through the glass. He looked contrite, and the tears came back.

“Go away,” she mouthed against the door, pressing her forehead to it. 

But she opened the door.

Before she was able to look up at his face, he took her face in his hands and kissed her. This time she remembered how to kiss him, she kissed him thoroughly. Eliza was filled with so much raw emotion: her last trip to Shanghai. Lying on his hotel bed alone, waiting for Oscar and he was with Polly. She did not ask about Polly, it was not her place to. Putting her hands over his, she kissed him because she needed to forget too…

She closed her eyes, and saw Fiona’s photograph behind them. The encircled oui on a chain, shone in her memory like the sun.

Oscar pushed her gently into the room, and closed the door behind him… 
Marie decided to use this photo from my first Sinful Sunday ever, for this week’s prompt. See more leg stories here:

photo of my legs in the nypl by Exposing 40

He could smell her on the bedsheets. Rafe rubbed his face over the pillow, he had not changed the sheets since the last time he shared a bed with Eliza. He needed her scent to still have something of her.Neither one of them had tried to call the other. He knew she would not try to contact him, and he did not contact her because he knew she was hurt. She needed time, and he would give it to her.

When he started his relationship with her, he liked that she was bohemian. He had been raised very conservative, with all the trappings of an upper-class family. Fiona had managed to escape the expectations, she was the artist. A successful artist, but nonetheless not what their parents had planned for her. Rafe was the practical one, pursued the safe career in finance and did all of the things that his parents wanted him to do. His parents admired Fiona more than she knew, but they did love that he did all the things that they expected of him. 

Eliza was like a diamond in the rough, and had changed for him. She had always changed for him. She became the art director of a major publication instead of being freelance artsy like she was when he met her, and she became polyamorous because it suited him. 

Maybe because he had done everything else the way his parents wanted was why, he at least wanted his relationships to be what he wanted. He was a hedonist, he savored his pleasure with the women that he was involved with. But just because he was not monogamous, did not mean that he did not value the women he was with. He knew that the reason Eliza was upset was because he had gotten involved with Sandrine without telling her. It was wrong, but he and Sandrine had gotten close again. When it seemed like Sandrine had given up on him, it was too much for him to bear. He loved her, even though he was not with her, he loved her and would always love her. He called her and told her what had happened with Eliza, and she soothed him.

“We messed up cheri,” she told him, her French accent heavier from being in France. “We messed up, and we both hurt people we love. I hurt Marcus…but I know we will be okay. You and Eliza? Do you think that she will, that you will be okay?”

Rafe rubbed his unshaven cheek, unable to dwell on whether or not he would get her back. Whether she would come back of her own free will. His self-image was so tied up in being with Eliza, that he did not feel like a whole person now. He could smell her on the sheets, he smelled her everywhere really. She had only taken some of her things, there were reminders of her as he walked to the kitchen to make coffee. He was stabbed tinily with one of her pumps was on the way there. He cursed as the buzzer rang to the apartment. Hoping Eliza had forgotten her keys even though it made no sense, he pressed the buzzer.

Moments later looking at his sister, he was silent. Continued to go about making coffee, now for Fiona as well. The steam that came from the cup, looked like clouds in his coffee. Like an impending storm. 

He gestured to Fiona which cup was hers, yet after he made the coffee he did not touch it. Just looked at the clouds of smoke gathering from it.

“How do you expect to get Eliza back if you look like you lost the battle already?”

Rafe shrugged, and knocked over his cup of coffee. The steaming hot liquid spilled all over his pants, and he did not even flinch. He hurt far worse on the inside.

He did not know how to be without her, Eliza would have told him to not leave the coffee on the edge of the counter like he did. Like he always did. The same way he always told her she could do anything that she did not think she could do. Because she was talented, she was talented, beautiful and smart. But mostly, she loved him the way he was. She never tried to change him. She changed for him, she was the chameleon in their relationship. He was the caveman, the one so set in his ways. He kept hurting her, because he did not know how to change and now she had forced change on him.

Without her was a change.

“Fiona, I really do not need your philosophizing right now. Just because you the one who is in stable relationship, does not mean that I want to hear you tell me what to do.”

“You mean you do not want me to tell you that you fucked up with Eliza as usual,” she said sipping her coffee. “But the good news is that she put up with this much from you, so you have a chance brother. You have a chance to get her back. But you have to put yourself together…for your own self-image you have to look like you think you have a fighting chance. Because some other man or woman will snatch her up. You are lucky I am with Alice, because you know I love Eliza…”

Rafe smelled coffee now instead of Eliza, as he pulled up a stool and stared at the gorgeous female version of himself and saw a reflection in the shiny appliances of his unkempt appearance. He was in a quandary, unsure what his next move was going to be. Spilled coffee mingled with Eliza’s scent, and he realized that he needed to get her back.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

coffee photograph with filter by f dot leonora

Maybe because she was in a hotel room alone in New York was why…Eliza had been alone in hotels in Shanghai and Paris, and not felt like this. But being alone even in this plush boutique hotel room, reminded her of being alone in the hospital after the car accident. For the most part, she was never really alone after the accident. Most of her nights in the hospital and during her short-term disability leave, Rafe was with her. She had been very lucky to not have been more injured than she was, as it was she had been more injured than Rafe. 

Things had been hard. The first time she saw her bruised face in the mirror, she had cried. She was so badly bruised, and had broken bones that had broken through her skin. Oscar had kissed her bruised hand, and she had fallen in love with him even more at that moment.

Love, she laughed bitterly as warm, salty tears covered her tongue.

She couldn’t sleep. She stood in the middle of the hotel room, in her dress that was mostly unbuttoned. Her breasts were bare, her nipples hard as she alternately flicked them. She was not aroused, she touched them like a lullaby to soothe herself.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she let her fingers slip under the lace of her thigh highs. It was damn late, but she called Marcus all the same. He had led her down this rabbit hole, he should support her as she moved through it.

“Eliza?”

She wondered how accidentally she had really called the wrong number, as she heard Oscar’s lucid voice.

“I am sorry, I meant to…”

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes flooded with gold tears, gold reflecting the gold-colored room that she was in.

“Why do you care about me?”

There was silence.

“Why do you care?” she repeated. “I mean why do you still treat me like we are still together?”

She closed her eyes. This was the hotel where she had met Oscar when she was unsettled about her engagement to Rafe. Now that she had broken things off with Rafe, talking to Oscar felt like dejá-vü. 

Like he should be there with her, but she knew that they were over.

“Where are you?”

“Oscar, I know you are with Polly now. I don’t want to–”

“Where are you?”

“Where we first met…”

“At the bar?”

“No, I am upstairs in one of the rooms.”

“I will meet you at the bar. Go wait for me.”
Eliza obediently sat at the bar waiting for him. She did not look as well put together as she had the first time he met her. He had kissed her bruised hands and bruised face in the hospitalq, she did not feel she had to knock herself out for him. Her hair was down about her shoulders, and all she had done was button up her dress. She had not put her bra back on, so her breasts jiggled as she tugged on the lace of her thigh highs to pull them up. Eliza felt them run, as she looked up and saw Oscar.

He sat on the stool beside her.

“You did not have to come…” she started. 

“You act like I just stopped loving you, you act like nothing ever happened between us. I care about you Eliza. I will always care about you, and I know something is very wrong…”

“I left Rafe, I broke off the engagement. I am staying here.”

Oscar stared at her like she was speaking another language while she talked.

She stopped talking.

“And you are sure that you do not want to marry him?”

“He has made it very hard for me to stay, I can’t just forgive him this time. I changed for him you know? I lost you because of him, if I had met you and I was not with him…”

Oscar put his hand on her thigh, and she put her hand over his.

“This is like some crazy kind of dejá-vü. But we are not going to end up in bed, because you are with Polly…”

Eliza looked down at his hand on her thigh, she watched it slip just under the lace band of her thigh high because she had not buttoned her dress all the way. When she looked up at him, his hand was higher up on her thigh. 

Their kiss was so sudden, her teeth hit his because she was surprised. She moaned low in pleasure, but the moan had the sound of pain. He pulled away from her mouth, and looked at her.

“I just needed once more to do that, just once more. So I can forget…”

“But now I remember…” Eliza said inside another kiss, her eyes filled with amber tears mirroring the amber bottles at the bar.

This was my soundtrack while writing this post: http://youtu.be/zMBTvuUlm98

More Wicked Wednesday here:

bar photograph with amelie filter by f dot leonora

Eliza realized that if her eyes had been open, it would have been obvious to her that something was going on with Rafe. She had noticed that he was spending more time with his phone, but she suspected it was Severine, which they did not speak about. Because she was known about, she was not a secret. But Sandrine…She had always seen Sandrine as his gorgeous ex, and when she finally started not to…this.

When she walked into their apartment, she had not expected it would be so quick to bring the affair up, but give a dog a bone! Right there on his abandoned phone, was an incoming text from Sandrine. Eliza looked at her watch. It was three o’clock in the morning in Paris.

Rafe had a drink in his hand, and sauntered over to her. She could tell he had been drinking too much which was not usually his style. He kissed her, and handed her his drink to sip.

Which she threw in his face.

“You motherfucker!” she screamed, while he wiped his face.

He grabbed her shoulders roughly.

“That stung, what the–”

Moving out of his hold, she picked up his phone.

“The least you could do is not leave your phone out for me to see Sandrine is calling from Paris! But it is late, maybe it is an emergency!”

Eliza thrust the phone at him as if she wanted him to take it, then threw it across the room.

Rafe’s body slackened, and he leaned against the wall.

“Liza,” he called her like he did when he knew he really messed up. “I know I should have told you…”

“You should have told me that you never stopped with Sandrine? How long has this been going on? How long have you both been lying to me? Is that the way to your faithfulness? To be one of of your French girls? Mais oui?”

“Eliza, stop it! You are acting hysterical! Stop it! You know there was nothing after we got together, this is recent.”

He straightened up, and walked over to her.

“Don’t touch me!” 

Eliza moved back, and kept moving back.

He followed her as she moved back, until she was in a corner where she crumpled. It all just got to her, and she slumped down the wall until she was crouched in the corner. She heaved violently, but tears would not even come. 

She was so done, there was nothing left inside of her. The edge of her engagement ring was like a tiny knife as she caressed it.

Rafe got down on his knees beside her, though she jerked when he tried to embrace her. It was complete exhaustion why she let him hold her, and she heaved all the more.

They were completely silent, Rafe held her until her breathing became regular again which was a long time.

“Let’s go to bed. We can talk about this later. I’ll get you ready you don’t have to do anything, I’ll bathe you. I’ll get you some wine…”

His voice was disembodied in her head, as she caressed that tiny knife that was her engagement ring to her now.

“Let’s end this, that is what I will say in the morning too.”

The gentle force with which she took off her engagement ring, felt like a wish being granted. She put the ring on the floor beside her and got up.

Rafe looked completely sober now, his face stern.

“End us?”

“I am done Rafe, done! I am done with you!”

She went to walk past him, and he grabbed her.

“I’m not done with you, I messed up I know I always do but I have never been done with you. You don’t love me anymore?”

Eliza heard that question like glass shattering.

She realized that this ring that she left on the floor had caused her so much duress, that was how she met Oscar from the demands of that damn ring. Of being engaged to Rafe.

“I will tell your parents and Fiona, if you want me to. I will do whatever you need me to do, to make this easier.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

“I will pack some stuff now, and then I will have movers come get the rest.”

“You don’t love me anymore?”

Eliza walked into their bedroom, and starting moving her things out of it. They were her things, but they smelled like him because she lived with him. She was not sure she would ever forget how he smelled, she was not sure she would.

“You don’t love me anymore?” he asked her that haunting question again, standing by the door watching her pack.

“I won’t be much longer,” she said. 

She continued with her immediate stuff, and then picked up her suitcase.

“I’m done.”

“I’m not done with you…”

He blocked her from walking out of the bedroom.

“If you want to beat me up and make me stay here I cannot stop you,” Eliza said, looking up at him somberly. His hands or words could not batter her anymore than she already was battered.

“You are acting like you do not know me, like you do not know I love you…”

“I know you love me Rafe, and I love you but it does mean much anymore. It doesn’t mean much of anything anymore.”

She knew her words about him hitting her, would freeze him. He had never hit her, or done anything to harm her physically. But she was so wounded from everything, she needed to retreat. She needed to stop relying on love as a crutch because it wasn’t…

She needed to stand by herself now…

Sooner than she had expected, she was sitting sunken in the back of a taxi, and running an itinerary of places she run to.  
More Wicked Wednesday here:

 
taxi via wikipedia with dreamstate filter added by f dot leonora

Dear God, make me disappear, MAKE ME, Eliza thought as she saw that Oscar saw her after he walked into the bar. She was not sure how to respond, but when he smiled so did she. She looked at Marcus who was staring at her.

“Do you want to leave?” he whispered in her ear.

She knew that Marcus would not necessarily know why she wanted to leave, but she was so thankful that he took her hand when he asked. She smiled, and nodded.

When she met Oscar that first time, he bragged about not being married. Now he was all loved up with Polly, and the pain that she had been feeling about him before was fading. Marcus opened the car door for her, and she sat beside him.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere that is not here,” she stated listlessly.

She heard him tell the driver to drive them around. Eliza was silent as the car moved, she looked out at the scenic route that the driver chose.

“Who was the guy in the bar?”

“Former lover,” she turned to look at him. “I came here tonight to be with you, and it has been about Sandrine, about Rafe, about Oscar…”

“You are with me,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I’m here.”

“I know.”

She put her head on his shoulder, wondering if everything that had happened so far were signs that she should not proceed any further with Marcus. All of her previous relationships she had had she had just jumped into, and she was no happier for any of them. Even being engaged to Rafe was painful today.

Marcus caressed the length of her arm, and pulled her closer to him. When his fingers trickled over her breast, she looked up at him and he kissed her. Eliza caressed his chest, and went to kiss him. He caressed her lips with his fingers.

“I am not going anywhere, I told you I want you to burn with desire for me. You are not burning tonight.”

She snuggled more into his chest.

“Let’s go to your place. I can’t see Rafe tonight.”

Eliza had been at Marcus and Sandrine’s place so much, that she knew her way around it like it was her own place. She was in the bathroom about to take a bath, when her phone rang. Assuming it was Rafe, she almost did not answer it until she saw the caller ID reflected in the bathroom mirror.

“Hello?” she said, stepping into the fragrant rosewater.

“You could have come over to the table Eliza, you know that I told Polly.”

“I know. You don’t know Marcus, and I was not in the mood to be a hostess tonight.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you care so much Oscar? I know that we smoothed everything out when you texted me that you told Polly, but what more do you want from me?”

“I care about you Eliza.”

“I care about you, and I am trying to care about you and support your new relationship.”

“Thank you.”

“I am getting ready to go to bed. I am not home, I’ll talk to you or text you…”

She hung up the phone, and got comfortable in the rosewater bath. 

It was not until much later when she was was carried away from the tub–she must have fallen asleep–by Marcus. Her fingertips and toes felt like prunes when she rubbed them. He dried her, and dressed her for bed. When he got in beside her, her body was aroused from the bath. But she knew that he was going to make her wait. It almost seemed like the right thing for him to make her wait. But she wanted him, she wanted to scream at him, 

“Make me, make me yours.”

But all she did was fall asleep in the spoon of him, and wish that God would promise her a better tomorrow.

And clarity.
More Wicked Wednesday here:

 
rose bath via christinechitnis.com

Marcus kept his hand on Eliza’s thigh. She was not crying or emotional, but he caressed it nonetheless.”I thought Rafe told you, I thought they would decide to tell us at the same time.”

Eliza shook her head. Rafe had not told her anything, not yet at least. She concentrated on Marcus’s hand on her thigh because she did not want to think, she did not want her thoughts to wander because they would only venture into pain.

“I think the part that bothers me the most,” Marcus said as he squeezed her thigh. “Is that when I had the chance to do the same thing to Sandrine, I chose not to do it.”

Eliza nodded, and sipped her drink.

“When I was just starting out, I was insanely attracted to one of my co-stars. I’d never been attracted to a man like that before. He was incredibly good-looking, and got my attention that way. I was open to it you know? But when I started noticing the signals…it is not different between the sexes I find. If you like someone it is always obvious, and it was obvious he liked me and I realized I liked him because he liked me…We were at a bar, and it was intense because I was in a play with him and that is a different experience than being in a filmed production…He was sitting next to me, and he had his hand on my thigh.” 

He squeezed her thigh with emphasis at that moment, and Eliza felt herself grow soft between her legs. 

“Like your hand is on my thigh?”

Marcus grinned, and looked at her.

“Higher.” He squeezed her thigh more, and continued. “I held his hand in mine, and told him I was seeing someone. That it was open, but I needed to tell her if I wanted anything to start with him. He respected that. Oddly enough it was the three of us at the wrap party, when the play finished its run. Sandrine came with me, I figured it would be okay if she saw us together. So it was the three of us at a table, and she actually put her hand on my thigh and asked me if I liked him. She could tell, because I had been talking about him at home and simply because she was not stupid.”

Eliza saw their reflection in the mirror over the bar, and she knew that anyone seeing them would think that she was having an affair with him. Or that something steamy was going on, as opposed to him talking about his now wife and a former lover.

“So did you get together then?” she questioned him.

Marcus squeezed her knee again.

“Yes, we got together several times after that, and he is still a friend. He is a producer on the show actually.”

Eliza nodded.

“He saw me chasing you, and told me the last time that he saw that expression on my face was when I was just starting to see Sandrine. I thought that you just wanted to be with me because you were mad about Sandrine and Rafe…but…”

The names Sandrine and Rafe made Eliza wince, but then she was still.

Marcus’ hand slid up her leg, and it felt like fire. Eliza leaned into him, her hair came undone and she did not bother to fix it. The round mound of his palm was on her hip, and his fingers trailed along her backside.

“I don’t want to be with you Eliza, to drown your pain.”

His hand slipped down her thigh, to rest on her knee.

“It would not have been like that, I would not fuck you to forget…”

She looked away from him, and she saw Oscar. He and Polly were walking into the bar, and Eliza laughed. The irony that the three of them would be in the bar at the same time. Splashing liquor on herself as she attempted to have a sip of her drink, Eliza was pensive as the alcohol trailed down her leg. Marcus no longer touched her, his hand floated off of her knee. Her eyes floated to the picture over the bar of a woman looking out of a window, and she wished she could crawl out of one.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

photo of a grete stern dream photo by f dot leonora

Eliza collapsed besides the vase filled with roses in the backseat of the taxi. The gorgeous blooms reeked of sage to her, their natural scent eclipsed by her memory of Marcus’s. Her hand dropped lazily between her thighs. He had told her that she would burn for him, that he would make her want him that much. 

She did.

Eliza wanted him so much it weighed her down. She moved and thought like molasses, at work she was prone to distraction and caressing the parts of herself that she could in an office. Stroking her collarbone was like rubbing her clitoris, she needed to be touched so bad that even that absent stroking eased some of her desire.

At home, she was not sure if Rafe noticed. Something was going on with him–with them. She wondered if he was seeing Severine again, because he was distracted. But she was distracted, so she was as not upset with him about it. Sleeping at night in his arms, he held her tight and she felt safe and loved. But she could feel he had a secret, he did not have to tell her.

Eliza rubbed the inside of her knee, wondering if Rafe could feel her desire. Sitting in the back of the taxi and saturated with lust, she looked out of the window at New York flashing by her. She was infatuated with Marcus and New York at the same time. The city looked different, was lit up with her excitement as she headed to a bar near where Marcus was filming. He had not told her, but she felt that she was not going to really be with him until he was finished filming this season of his show. The taste of her blood was sweet, after she bit her lip thinking to herself when would her cliffhanger cease? When would her need be quenched? 

Her lips were parted, and she licked them as they stopped at a corner. Eliza giggled as she saw a billboard that revealed several layers, one of them was an older ad for Marcus’s show. 

He was everywhere, and not just ads or billboards. She saw him every time she saw a man’s fedora. Fedoras were suddenly ubiquitous in the same vein as bowler hats were for Magritte, or as in The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera. Fedoras triggered her as much as Marcus’s kisses had, made her quiver on the brink of imploding.

She got out of the taxi on shaky legs. When she regained her balance, she realized that she had left her roses in the backseat. Tears came, even though she did not want them to. All she had left of the beautiful roses Marcus gave her, were the ones she had adorned herself with in her hair, in the waist of her skirt and the petals she had stuffed in her bra.

   
Marcus sat at the bar, when she walked over to him he studied her face. There was nothing she could hide from him, and she knew that he knew that she was weak with desire for him. She did not blame him for lingering since she had acted like she did not know what she wanted, when he asked her if she wanted him to seduce her. Now she wanted him so much, she did not need his seduction or roses. Maybe leaving the roses in the taxi was symbolic for her not wanting to wait anymore for him. That she wanted him to take her without finesse. She wanted raw emotion, raw physicality between them.

“You were crying,” he said, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “Do you want me that bad?”

She nodded.

“I left the roses in the backseat of the car.”

“They were not that important to you then. Or maybe you wanted them on your body, and not in a vase.”

“I want you.”

He stared at her.

“Why because Sandrine is sleeping with Rafe?

Eliza caressed her collarbone with anxiety.

“What?”

Marcus swallowed, and she salivated with the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“Rafe did not tell you?”

Eliza shook her head, shock chilling her desire.

“No, he can sleep with who he wants to and I would not sleep with you for revenge.”

“So you want me?”

Eliza nodded, the scent of roses on her body like fire ignited her desire again.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

roses photo by f dot leonora

It had been coiled upside of her like a snake, the way Sandrine was encouraged to visualize energy in her kundalini yoga classes. But no amount of focus given between her eyes in class, had released the energy that she felt when she started back up with Rafe.Rafe had been her first love, and she hated when people blathered on about a first love they could not get past, even after they were married like she was. Married, and had a very if not more than stable life with their family. But going to see Rafe by herself, which she had known was something she should not have done…it had caused everything inside of her to uncoil. 

Now she sat at a Paris cafe, sexting him. He was asking her to do things that he knew she had loved to do for him before.

Show me cleavage.

And she did. She had worn a form-fitting dress that outlined all of her curves, and gave him cleavage. And since guys did dick pics, she gave him a very lovely pussy pic. She slipped her phone between her knees, and since she was not wearing underwear…Sandrine had chosen not to wear underwear so she could do something like this. 

Rafe rewarded her with full evidence of his desire: a dick pic that was memorized in her mind because she knew his that well. There was not a part of her body that had not come into contact with his, or for that mater there was not really a part of her body that his come had not graced.

Seeing him on her phone made Sandrine excited, she crossed and uncrossed her legs. Asking her neighbor to mind her table, she got up and walked to the bathroom. She knew from his unhidden desire that he would keep her table for her, fight someone who tried to take it.

It was a tiny bathroom, but nonetheless enough for her to do what she needed to do. She pulled her full breasts out of her dress, pulled up the bottom of it and pressed her own bottom to the cool white marble sink. Her fingertips caressed her hardened nipples. Sandrine let her fingers meander over the stretchy fabric of the dress at her solar plexus and caress her navel, before finally caressing her stiff clitoris which was almost too sensitive to touch. But she did, and it quickly responded the way that she needed it to. Sandrine was turned away from the mirror, but she turned quickly to see her flushed face and turned back around to raise her phone over her head and take her portrait for Rafe. The sudden motion made her come, and she took the picture as her eyes closed in grimaced ecstasy. She quickly pulled her dress down, pushed her breasts back into her dress and turned around to look at herself before freshening up a bit. When she returned to her table, her in the mood for neighbor smiled and asked her if she was okay.

“Ca va tres bien!” Sandrine smiled, as her phone vibrated in her hand. She had just sent Rafe her picture, and she wanted him to savor her portrait of desire for a little bit…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

  
paris cafe photo by f dot leonora

Going to France was often Sandrine’s escape from the world, but this time it was not.

She had gone to Paris to stay with her family to escape the things she had set into motion in New York. Her children liked going to Paris anyway, and it had been a long time. Plus she loved to see her mother, who knew right away that she was running from something. Sandrine watched her mother give her children warm hugs, and almost sunk into her own hug when she was in her mother’s arms and her mother caressed her back softly like she had when she was a little girl. Nothing was said, and she was not sure she would tell her mother anything. Among her sacred lists like commandments, was not to do things that she thought would make her mother feel ashamed of her.

She had done something she was not sure her mother would not be ashamed of…

Sitting alone in a favorite cafe with her coffee, she fiddled with the piece of chocolate that was placed on her plate. She wore her dark shades that reminded her of the iconic kind that Jackie O wore.

She was no Jackie O.

Her phone vibrated on the table nonstop. She knew she could set it to silence, but she liked knowing exactly when he texted her. Knowing it was as urgent to him as it was to her, that at least it was not something disposable. How could it have been disposable, everything between them always stained her indelibly.

From the time she walked out on him in the bar, when she came to chastise him about possibly pushing Eliza into an open relationship Sandrine had messed up. It was not on her list per say, but it was among the things she never wanted to do. She had promised herself that she would not see Rafe alone again, because she was not sure that she would have control. It had always been so easy for him to seduce her. Sitting across from him that day, she believed in her accusations but she filled with emotion for him. Not love or lust, but caring. He looked lost and deeply affected by what she had said to him. When he came to her house days later, while she was alone and she opened the door to let him in. At the same time she opened the door to let him into her heart and her body, which she had sworn she would never do again. 

She and Marcus did not have a contract or anything like that, but the one thing in the lists of things they would not do to each other was to be involved with someone without telling the other person. Marcus wanted to to maybe become involved with Eliza, and he called her on set to let her know that he was thinking about it. Just because they could sleep with someone else did not mean it was random. 

He called her to let her know what he was thinking about with Eliza.

Her cell phone had fallen to the floor when Rafe captured her wrists with his hand, the memory stung her. Not that she had been planning to make a call, she just happened to have her phone in her hand. Rafe rubbed his thumb over the thick vein on the inside of her wrist, and Sandrine closed her eyes as she came undone. He knew all her hot spots from a long time ago. He kissed her along her jaw, and she panted.

“I wish I could do this to you just to show you that I can make you feel something still, and I am not the trash you think I am…” he had said to her, and when she opened her eyes and tears fell.

“I never meant to hurt you cheri,” she caressed his cheek, and whispered soft words to him in French like psalms to calm him.

He looked at her, his eyes dark with desire now and not rage. They kissed as the storm of their lust flashed across her eyes like lightning. Sandrine kissed his jaw, licked the length of his crisp shirt sleeve and sucked on his cufflink. Her tongue meandered slowly along the thick vein inside of his wrist.

She knew all of his hot spots, so when he pressed her to the wall, his mouth returning to her jaw and had his way with her she knew she had pushed him to it. Even with the wide open windows of her house and open drawn curtains, but could not resist fucking him. She had missed fucking him.

For a second, she tasted him on her lips, before she remembered she was in Paris. Sandrine picked up her phone. His first initial ‘R’ was like a brand on her phone, in her e-mail and text messages.

She closed her mouth, and she could taste the metallic taste of his cufflink on her tongue sweetened with his essence. Paris was not the refuge she sought, as she imagined him where he was not…
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Eliza picked up a picture of Sandrine from the dresser table. She was incredibly young in the picture, probably around the time that she had met her when Sandrine was with Rafe. In this picture, she was alone. A little further back, she picked up a picture of Sandrine that was taken years later. In this picture, she was not alone, she was with Marcus who looked very young as well.

The apartment was filled with a soundtrack of Nick Drake, and the smell of food that Marcus was warming. It was just after midnight, and she was alone with her friend’s gorgeous husband and her equally gorgeous if not actor-gorgeous fiancé knew exactly where she was. Knew exactly what could happen while she was there.

Eliza was silent, as she walked to the kitchen.

Marcus turned around, as if he felt her walk into the room.

“How did you hear me?” she smiled.

“I have two kids, I have ultra senses as far as stuff like that is concerned. Sandrine and I both. Parents makes you almost superhuman!”

Eliza smiled and leaned her hip against the island in the center of the kitchen. Watching Marcus prepare just a salad to accompany the amazing smell that was in the kitchen, she observed the attention he gave to even the smallest details which awed her. 

“You are so surprised that I am good in the kitchen?” he looked up at her over chopped scallions.

“I haven’t tasted anything yet,” she teased.

Her teasing ended when she finished the meal with him, both of them sitting at the island.

“This was how I seduced Sandrine,” he smiled. “When I was a waiter and was not working like I am now, I used to cook for her. I remember I would bring her home all hours of the night after my shifts to cook for her. We would be in the subway, sometimes just the two of us and we could not keep our hands off of each other. I would feel her against me, her lips on mine and we practically had sex on the platform. Once there was a man lying on the ground. I am not sure if he was homeless or dead, we almost had sex in front of him but the train came. I think we would have had sex in the car, but there were people there so we didn’t.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

Tired of playing coy, Eliza put down her fork and looked at him. A long look that let him know that she was serious. She had told Rafe that she thought that Marcus was beautiful way before she would have been able to be in the situation she was in now. When Sandrine first started dating him, she had confessed that.

Marcus pulled on his undone tie, and looked at her with the same look. His face was equally as serious.

“Do you want me to seduce you Eliza?”

She continued to look at him.

“I don’t know.”

“Whatever you decide, they know we are both here. They know what we are capable of, if we want to.”

Eliza nodded and squeezed the petals of the flowers that the driver of the car had given her when she got in.

“I don’t know what I want…” she mused absently to herself not looking at him, and savoring the stickiness of the torn petal between her fingers.

“Do you want me?”

“What woman wouldn’t want you?” she questioned, the defined stickiness of the petal between her fingers making her think of the stickiness between her legs when he came off the set to see her and right now.

“Come here,” he said.

Eliza stayed still.

“Come.”

The second time he asked her, she walked over to him. Standing between his legs, and putting her sticky fingers on his shoulder, she looked in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful and Sandrine’s friend, and she told me not to pressure you. I would never pressure you. This is our first date, I am just happy to spend time with you.”

Eliza threw her arms about his neck, 

“I want you so much, it scares me.”

Marcus kissed the inside of her arm, her wrist and her hand. His lips lingered there, before he looked up at her.

“Don’t be afraid, I want everything you want. I waited this long, I am not rushing this. You. I want you to burn with desire for me before I even touch you. I want you to want it so bad it consumes you. I want to consume you like this meal we shared. I want to share something special with you.”

Eliza was sure she blushed from head to toe with the feeling of his lips on her skin, and the warmth of his words.

She was already starting to burn.
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