My Time in the Affair (11 page)

It was kind of stupid to assume that having funny jokes and good moves in the sack equated to lifelong marriage material. But that's what had happened. She had loved him, because he was her friend, and somehow, she had mistaken that for being
in love
with him. She loved her friend Lacey, but she wasn't going to marry the woman.

Yet she'd done just that with Mike.

Oh my god.

“So many years,” she whispered, and a tear slipped down her cheek, ran sideways towards her neck.

“What?” Tal asked. She shook her head and wiped at her face, trying to stop the armies of tears in their forward march.

“Nothing. I just feel stupid,” she managed a laugh.

“Why?”

“You've known me a week, and you've already figured out why I sucked at being married – something I wasn't able to figure out in three years,” she replied.

“Don't say that, you don't suck. You're both to blame, but you're not a horrible person. He's not a horrible dude. He just wasn't supposed to be your husband,” Tal told her.

“No, just my best friend.”

“Everyone needs their proper title,” he joked.

“Then what's your title?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“'
Everyone needs a title
'. You're not Mr. One-Night-Stand. You're certainly not my boyfriend. What are you?” she continued.

He was silent for a long time, then she felt him rolling over. He crawled up the bed and moved so he was leaning over her, kneeling at her side. She stared back at him, trying not to sniffle.

“They have a word especially for people like me,” Tal said softly, reaching out and wiping her tears away.

“And what word is that?”

“
Lover.
”

How much I wanted him took me by surprise. I didn't want to feel that way – I'd been telling the truth. I wasn't looking for another relationship. Clearly, I wasn't good at relationships, and had no business entering into an already-fucked-up-relationship without ending my last totally-fucked-up-relationship.

But it was like he understood me. I could say anything to him, literally anything, and he just got it. He didn't think I was a horrible human being for cheating on my husband. He didn't care that I was married. Didn't care that I was emotionally stunted most of the time, and physically inhibited some of the time. All he cared about was being with me. Everything else, that was just background noise.

I hadn't ever known that kind of freedom, to just be myself, one hundred percent. Say whatever I want, do whatever I want, in all situations. You just can't be like that with most people, there's always a filter that needs to be in place. But not with Tal.

Not in
any
situations.

I was drunk on him. High on him. I wanted to swallow him down, inhale him, inject him. I wanted him to live under my skin and change my DNA. I wanted to live in his air and breathe his passion.

I thought maybe, just maybe, I could overdose on him. If I could just take him one more time, and shut my eyes, and it would be the last time, with anyone, with anything, that would be alright. Guilt would be gone. Hurt would be gone. Confusion would be gone. Oppression would be gone.
Obsession
would be gone.

My memory would be his, I would only exist in his mind, and that was fine.

It was the only place I wanted to be anymore.

There were no more “
let's see where the day takes us
” days. No more “
just two friends hanging out
” talk. No more ignoring the large, married elephant in the room.

Mischa only had nine days left in Rome. After that, she would spend five days on the Amalfi coast, in Positano – a sort of mini-vacation, given as a reward for all the hard work they were doing.

Positano was where Michael would be meeting her.

Where her marriage would end.

She and Tal talked about it a lot. They were honest with each other – they didn't know what was happening between them, neither had been looking for a relationship, nor could either make a commitment at that time. Tal had work, Misch had life. He wanted to go to the coast with her, but they decided it was a bad idea. Too risky to be in such a small place with her boss so close at hand, with her husband visiting so soon. No, it would be much better to make a clean break in Rome. So they agreed to spend her remaining time there with each other, in whatever capacity.

“
Lovers,
” he had whispered to her.

“
Yes
,” she had whispered back.

They spent every day together that they could, every moment. Talking. Laughing. Touching. She skipped out on work more than a few times, burning the days away with him.

It wasn't always easy, though. His job kept him busy, and sometimes he would get called away in the middle of whatever they were doing. He left in the middle of lunch one afternoon, and she didn't hear from him for a whole day. One day out of their precious nine. She had thought she would go crazy, or that it was over, and he'd been transferred somewhere else – something he'd warned her could happen. But then he'd shown up at her hotel room at ten o'clock at night, looking haggard, as if he hadn't slept the whole time.

Her overly emotional state didn't help matters. When she was with him, nothing else existed. But when she was alone, reality caved in on her. Crying happened often, and for long bouts of time. Somehow, her picture of Mike had gotten kicked under the bed, and when she happened upon it, she'd stared at it for a long time, then burst out crying. She didn't stop for almost two hours. Tal had come over, and she'd tried to tell him to go away. But he wasn't a very good listener, and was very good at picking locks, it turned out. He let himself into her hotel room, then just held her.

“
It's not fair. You shouldn't make me feel better. I deserve to feel bad. I
should
feel bad,
” she stressed. He spooned up behind her and wiped her hair out of her face. Her tears from her eyes.

“
I could never stand by and just watch you hurt. It kills me,
” he'd replied.

Then he'd undressed her, and she was high all over again, forgetting everything but his drugging touch.

*

Mischa bent over, fighting with the bottom drawer of a file cabinet. Her boss had just left, taking their Italian associates out to lunch. She'd been ready to go with them, but then they'd gotten a call – the main offices back in the U.S. were missing some of the permits required for the office to be opened in Italy. They needed that paperwork, pronto. Mischa had to stay behind and send it.

“Piece of shit,” she swore, yanking and pulling at the handle on the drawer.

“Nice language, babe.”

She actually screamed, leaping upright and spinning around. Tal stood on the customer side of the counter, smiling at her. All the lights were off in the front of the office, just sunlight spilling in from the front windows and light leaking out of the back offices. Misch pressed her hand to her chest.

“
Don't ever fucking do that to me!
” she yelled at him, trying to catch her breath.

“Oh, feisty,” he teased, then he came around the counter and walked towards her.

“What are you even doing here!? How did you know where I was?” Misch asked, staring at him as he slowly moved her to the side.

“I wanted to see you. You said you were at work. Kinda seems like a no brainer,” he told her as he bent down and jiggled the handle of the drawer.

“Yeah, but how did you know where this place was? I never told you. What are you doing?” she demanded as Tal squatted down in front of the file cabinet.

“This is locked, you dork, that's why you can't open it,” he pointed out.

“Huh?”

He ignored her as he pulled something out of his pocket. It kinda looked like an Altoids tin, but without any label on it. He opened it, and it seemed to be full of wires, or paperclips that had been bent and unwound. He fingered through them, then pulled one out. She wasn't sure what his choice was based on, they all looked the same to her. He snapped the tin shut and put it away.

“No key, right?” he double checked.

“No. What are you doing?” she asked again. He bent the wire, then inserted it into the drawer's lock.

“Opening it.”

And as if he'd said the magic word, the drawer popped open. There were a bunch of empty folders in it, and one at the very back that was full. He grabbed it and held it out to her, smiling.

“How do you always know what to do?” Misch asked, her voice full of suspicion.

“Man of many, many talents,” he replied saucily. She narrowed her eyes and took the folder.

“Seriously, Tal, your man-of-mystery routine gets old,” she told him as she walked back into her office.

“
Pffft,
bullshit, my mystery is what you love best about me,” he laughed as he followed her.

She was in the middle of faxing the paperwork, so her back was to him when he spoke. She was glad, because she instantly blushed at his words.

Love!?

“Not hardly,” she managed to say back, trying to clear her throat.

“You look amazing, by the way,” he commented, then she felt him right against her back.

“Thank you.”

“Red is a great color on you.”

His voice had gotten husky, and they'd spent enough time together for Misch to pick up on his little tells.

“Behave yourself,” she cautioned. He ignored her and his hand was suddenly on her hip.

“Kind of a racy dress, for just a day in the office,” he said, pulling her back into him.

“It's a dress, Tal. Nothing racy about it,” she told him.

“Oh really?”

His free hand was suddenly at her chest. Her dress had a deep v-neck, and his hand took advantage of it, diving into her bra without having to fight its way through any material. She gasped and reached out to grab some shelves, bracing herself.

“Only you would see a v-neck and equate it to easy access,” she managed to laugh as he rolled her nipple between his fingertips.

“Me and every other man. You shouldn't dress this way in front of your dick-bag boss.”

Tal's voice was almost a snarl, and it kinda surprised her.

“You've never met the man, why are you calling him names? He's always been nice to me, he -,” her voice caught when his rolling fingers turned to pinching

“I can just tell these things, I'm very observant, and I don't like the idea of some jackass staring at your tits, storing that image away so he can jerk off over it later,” Tal told her. She snorted.

“I seriously doubt that's going to happen.”

“Shut up. You're so fucking clueless, you have no idea how sexy you are,” his voice was a growl against her ear, and his hips rolled against her ass. “Feel that? How hard you make me? Every time you doubt your sexiness, remember this. Remember what you do to me.”

Mischa moaned and let her head drop back to rest against his shoulder.

“Tal, we can't do this in here,” she whispered as his free hand began lifting the back of her dress.

“Why not?”

“Because it's inappropriate. It's where I work. My boss could be back at any moment,” she explained. His fingers snapped the edge of her panties, and she bit into her bottom lip.

“Don't worry about him. Worry about how hard I'm going to fuck you.”

Her teeth clamped down so hard, she worried she'd draw blood, and she didn't say a peep as he pulled her underwear away from her. It fell to her ankles and she stepped free of them.

“You have to be quick,” she panted. He spun them around and slammed her down over the desk, shocking her a little.

“I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell me how to do my job,” he hissed before shoving two fingers inside of her. No gentle petting, Tal was on a mission to get her wet as quickly as possible.

It didn't take long.

“Please, please,” she begged, clawing her nails down the desk.

“When you ask so nice, how could I say no?” he teased.

Every time they saw each other, they had sex – which basically meant they'd had A LOT of sex. Yet still, she was always caught off guard. His cock never ceased to surprise her, in size, in girth, in capability. She shivered and groaned, clenching and unclenching her fingers around the edge of the desk while he slowly worked his way inside of her.

“And here I thought it would just be another boring day at the office,” she joked, after his hips met her ass.

“Baby, you'll never look at this office the same again.”

Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that out.

He hadn't been lying, he fucked her hard. Hard enough to shake the computer monitor off the desk. Hard enough that she forgot where she was and began shrieking. Moaning and panting, begging him for something. Anything.
Everything
.

“Oh god, yes, please, yes,” she whined when she felt his hand in her hair, pulling at the dark strands. She was forced to prop herself up on her hands, and she locked her elbows, holding herself upright. Dug her nails into the desk calendar, shredding the paper.

“I love it when you fucking beg. Such a good girl,” he groaned, and his hands were back at the front of her dress. He yanked the material down, then pulled her breasts out of her bra. Kneaded her flesh with his fingers.

“I'm … I'm … I'm …,” she gasped for air.

“
You're fucking amazing.
”

His words were always her downfall, pushing her over the edge. She came, shuddering and crying, her muscles locking down on him. He grunted and stilled, cupping her breasts as she exploded into a thousand pieces.

“Thank you. Thank you for that,” she gasped for air as she broke away from him and laid back down on the desk. He leaned down over her, pressing against her back.

“
Mischa
,” he said her name as he slowly,
so slowly
, pumped in and out of her.

“Hmmm?” she purred, circling her hips back against him.

“I want you to do me a favor,” he continued, pulling almost all the way out of her, then sliding all the way in. She gasped in time.

“Anything,” she agreed.

“I
never
want you to forget what this feels like,” he told her.

“I won't,” she promised.

“When I'm gone, I want you to remember. When you touch yourself, I want you to always think of me,” his voice was as slow and soft as his thrusts.

“I will,” she assured him.

“I want to be the only one you think of,” he whispered.

“You already are.”

His voice, his words, made her want to cry. Made her want to turn around and hold him. He must have sensed that, as he was able to do with most anything she was feeling, and he pulled away. Spun her around to face him before shoving her hips up onto the desk. She had barely caught her breath when he was slamming back into her. The sweet guy from a moment ago was gone, and he was all hard muscle and pumping action.

“You said we had to be quick,” he reminded her, lowering his mouth to tease one of her nipples.

“Yes, you should hurry,” she agreed. He shook his head and licked his way to her throat.

“
You
should hurry, cause I'm not stopping till you come again.”

Bold words, but he made good on them. He grabbed her hand and forced it between their bodies, shoved her fingers into her wetness. Watched as she worked herself good, as the blush on her face spread to her chest. Her fingers couldn't keep up with him, though, and he was pounding so hard she couldn't keep her balance. Couldn't keep a fucking thought in her head. She wrapped an arm around his waist and held on for dear life while her second orgasm ripped her in half. He was right behind her, coming in a series of groans and twitches, his hips grinding against her.

“Holy. Fuck,” she gasped for air. She let go of him and laid down, and he followed, laying his head on her chest.

“Fuck yeah,” he agreed.

“Where does this come from? Did you wake up and think '
I'm gonna fuck her all kinds of right in her office
'?” Misch chuckled, combing her fingers through his hair.