Chapter 14

                                    

                                          
AUGUST
We're sitting in a small restaurant in Greenwich Village. She's met me after a shoot for a drink. In a booth, we sit on the same side. It's tucked away; intimate. So much so that I have my hand on her bare thigh, squeezing and rubbing it easily. She's tipsy off of the few glasses of wine she's had. I'm nursing a glass of scotch and am intensely focused on her. 
She looks beautiful. Her hair is parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears, she's wearing very little makeup, and a black sundress. Her cheeks have begun to flush red where she's had too much to drink, her eyes are somewhat hazy, and she smiles at me goofily. It makes me grin. 
"You shouldn't be touching me like that."
"Like what? This?"
I move my hand further, up her dress, and she grabs me by the wrist. But she's laughing softly, leaning into me, and I softly kiss her cheek.  
"Finish your wine."
I hold the glass to her lips and she does as I say. If we were alone I'd tell her to spit it into my mouth. Her spit mixed with wine is a heady combination. 
"Let's go back to my apartment." 
"I only have an hour and a half until I have to meet Hugh."
I kiss her again and pull her closer to me. 
"The things I could do to you in an hour," I say lowly. "There's a hotel right across the street. Let's get a room."
It doesn't take much convincing. Not even half an hour later, I'm in an elevator going up to our room. She's gone ahead of me, sent me the room number, and I'm following behind. I take my jacket and tie off and am unbuttoning my vest after I've stepped out of the elevator. 
She's waiting for me, sitting on the bed, down to her panties and her heels. I toss my clothes aside, unbuckle and unzip my belt as I near her, and force her against the bed. I turn her onto her stomach and kneel between her legs, spread them, and eat her. 
She's moaning steadily, loudly. When she's had too much to drink she does that, becomes much more uninhibited, and that's something I love about her. I fuck her with my tongue, my fingers, covering myself in her arousal, until she comes in my mouth. 
I stand, grab a fistful of her hair, pull her head back, wrap my fingers around her throat, and begin to fuck her. It's rough and carnal, the definition of a quickie. 
After, I lie on my stomach with a pillow beneath my chin. She lies on her side and stares at me. My mood begins to shift the closer it comes to her having to go. I try to fight it and stay silent, but I just can't help myself. She's told me a few times that my moods are light day and night and she never knows what to expect from me. I'm unpredictable. It's an observation I've heard before. 
"Do you still love Hugh?"
"I care for him. He's a... he's like a very good friend."
I look at her closely. 
"I think you should leave him."
She stares at me, trying to see if I'm serious. I am. I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't. It's been weighing on my mind more and more. I don't want to share her with someone anymore. I'd like to be able to see her whenever and wherever I want. The thrill of sneaking around has worn off. I care about this woman and don't want it to just be an affair. 
"You think I should leave Hugh?"
"Yes, I do."
"Why?"