Marital Bitch(41)
But not tonight, tonight the sex was... us. It wasn't angry, hot sex. It wasn't beautiful, romantic sex, though, there was a connection there. It wasn't random or a mistake; it just was, and it was us through and through. We argued and laughed and had those little moments where I remember why he's always been my best friend.
And then there was the moment that I realized that I am completely and totally in love with Brad Patrick-- my husband, my best friend-- that I won't ever forget. We were looking at each other as he moved in and out of me. There's no denying that he's quite well-endowed (which, Emily informs me is an inherited trait-- yuck!), and even though he felt really, and I mean really, good; that's not what sent shivers down my spine. It's the look that was on his face.
He looked like a man enraptured. He studied me, every inch of me. I have never felt so loved, so in love, so right, in my entire life as I did in that moment. And frightened with the intensity of it all, I was on the verge of tears. So instead of doing what I really wanted to do-- tell him that I just figured out that I'm in love with him-- I burst out laughing. That could have gone really bad, but in true Brad fashion, he just rolled with it and broke out laughing, too; because we were-- after all this time-- finally having sex. No. It wasn’t sex. We were making love. And damn Lindsay's romance novels to hell. They can keep their wall sex and their steamy love scenes; I like this, just me and Brad, just us. It was just as it should have been.
And the entire night should have been perfect. It should have been the beginning of "us." But only minutes after we finish, just barely coming down from our highs, there's a knock at the door. I don't have a clue about who could be here this late or why, but judging from the look on Brad's face, he knows exactly who it is.
"Damn it," he says, his face paling. "I'll be right back. Don't you move an inch, pretty girl," he smiles and kisses my lips. I can barely respond before he's flying out of the room, pajama pants in hand.
Without Brad beside me, I shiver under the cool breeze of the ceiling fan. I pull out one of his old Patriots' t-shirts and creep out of the room and down the hall, intent to find out who's visiting us this late. The perky voice I hear stops me dead in my tracks. It's Officer Barbie from this afternoon, the same bitch who had her lips all over my Brad!
"Well, handsome," her nasally voice echoes off the walls. "You look like a hot mess," she giggles.
"I am," Brad says and he sounds really happy. I feel a twinge of pride knowing that I’m the reason he looks like a disaster—and if this bitch would leave, we could have shower sex.
"Oh God," she groans, "I should go then."
"Yeah," Brad says, "I don't want her to know." He doesn't want me to know? What doesn't he want me to know! And it dawns on me-- they are seeing each other. And after what we just did, he doesn't want me to know. Maybe he's going to break it off with her, I try to rationalize her visit away.
"Right," she laughs, "wouldn't want the old battle axe to catch on to our dirty little secret, now would we?" What the hell? Battle axe? Oh hell to the no! This bitch is about to be on my bad side.
"Be nice," Brad warns, "I know she's a royal pain in the ass, but she's my royal pain in the ass." I smile smugly. Take that, Vanna White!
"Whatever, dude," she quips, causing me to snap. I walk out onto the landing, smiling wide and fake as hell. I am going to make this stupid cow like me. All of Brad’s girlfriends have liked me. They have always adored me. Every.single.one. How dare she not like me! I'm not the one visiting a married man! I realize that I’m glossing over the bigger problem—I just figured out that I’m in love with my husband and his new girlfriend has shown up; but one thing at a time, okay? Right now I need to get this wench to like me.
"Valerie!" I say in a cheerful voice. Both of their heads shoot up to look at me. I'm aware that I'm standing in nothing but Brad's old t-shirt and that it barely covers my naked ass; but right now, I have more important things to deal with, such as that Blow-Job-Barbie wanna-be in my house.
"Please, come in! I'll be right down." I smile and turn around. I can hear her telling Brad that she'd rather leave as I walk back to our bedroom. He assures her that leaving would be a bad idea. He knows me so well. I grab a fresh pair of underwear from the drawer and go to the bathroom to clean up. I forgot how messy sex was; then again, I also didn’t realize how good it could be. Hot damn, I want to do that again and I most certainly won’t be letting that Vicky get in my way. Come hell or high water, she needs to go.
I slip the fresh panties on, fluff my hair up a little, spray a tiny bit of perfume on and walk out—without pants—because this is my home and I’ll walk around butt naked if I want to after my husband has taken me in our bed. I walk down the stairs and find them in the living room. Brad is on the couch with Vicky by his side and they’re talking quietly. I clear my throat and they look up, both smiling nervously. Vicky stands first and stretches her hand out to shake. I close the distance and take it gladly.