Flakes of bread crust were scattered around the dinner plates. Spaghetti sauce hardened on the forks by the minute, and the high glossy sheen of the oak veneered dinner table was dulled by the messy hands of a two-year-old.
These facts were all I thought about because I had rather smoked a cigarette, and got my kitchen clean, than being fucked right then. The soft lilt of Elmo’s laugh came from the back bedroom as my son Dusty watched TV. I didn’t dislike having sex with Reece. He picked times that were inconvenient, and truth be told, not when I would have enjoyed it most. But I knew our arrangement as well as the response I would get if I denied him.
Reece grabbed the hunk of my blonde hair splayed out of the blood red scrunci. My eyes leveled with the bathroom mirror, and Reece’s knuckles tensed white as his small pointy hip bones rammed into my behind.
I wouldn’t call it romantic. Reece wore his shirt smeared with grease, and every time his stroke went a little long his back would hit the glass of the shower door. Not exactly the music of love but the banging of necessity.
Reece was about to come. His stubbly chin moved toward the ceiling as his body tensed up, and his eyes squinted like he was about to sneeze. “Oh God” he said. Then he grabbed my shoulders and thrust as if he were trying to lift me off the floor.
When he finished he lowered his head, with his eyes shut, and stood there. I glanced at his face. From this angle there wasn’t much I could do until he pulled out of me.
“Are you finished honey” I asked. The position was tiresome when I had nothing to concentrate on.
“Yeah. Yeah. I just got a little light headed.”
He stumbled back into the shower doors, and I grabbed the hand towel. Since the towel was set out that morning, it felt soft and plush against the inside of my thighs. I rubbed my wrist against my breast. The nipples were sore from being scrapped repeatedly on the lip of the sink.
“I’m goin to the Yard for a few hours.” Reece said. “I’ll be back in time to watch our shows together.”
His voice was flat and deadpan like he spoke to no one in particular. I nodded. Anything to get him out the door a little faster. As the remnants of our after dinner soiree soaked into the cotton towel, I wanted to get dressed and an inch closer to my personal time of the day.
Reece tucked in his shirt and kissed me on the forehead. He was already out the door by the time I put my panties on. In front of the mirror I watched myself pull my jeans up to my hips. My nipples were hard and red from the agitation of the counter and sink. A few stretch marks bubbled over my stomach. The supple body of my teens was now marred from a line of bad decisions. My left nipple moved upward as I pulled up on the skin under my armpit. Before I had my shirt on I turned the light off and heard Elmo laugh down the hall.
I hated to waste this scene. It is cut out of a novel I am currently working on.
