Office Affair

Guilty, yet pleasant feelings

Dominic

Dominic stood reluctantly in front of the door of his apartment. He had a key in his hand, but he didn't want to put it in the door just yet. Instead, he wondered and wished beyond any hope to step into a whole new reality, the one in which his wife was already at home, waiting for him. Heck, he would even be happy if he saw her standing there and telling him that she ordered take-out. Oh, if only alternative realities existed, he would almost go as far as trade InfiDom. Hunger nudged him forward, so he finally unlocked the door, stepped inside and listened carefully. There was no sound, even though the lights in the apartment were turned on.

"I'm home..." he called and listened. Nothing. He sighed. So, miracles didn't exist after all. That was to be expected, but he allowed him to be sad about it. Sad about his marriage, about the trajectory that meeting Kayla had pushed him in. His feelings for her didn't change too much, but hers did, almost over night. He wondered who was guiltier for the situation, and immediately felt like a prick. The truth was that it was nobody's fault, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise, and it didn't make him feel any better. What mattered the most was that he felt like they were strangers who shared the same place and, rarely, the same bed.

He threw his jacket on the sofa and turned off the main light. He walked to the big electric fireplace and turned it on. It would take time for it to heat up to the expected temperature but he had time; he stood there, looking at the fire consuming the artificial wood that looked remarkably realistic. It was one of his proudest purchases, the one which Kayla was staunchly against, but he didn't want to give in, and now he was glad that he stood his ground. It looked so real, so comforting. Comfort was the thing he was constantly looking for, craved with every fiber of his being, ever since he was a boy. That's why he knew what kind of an apartment he wanted. He wanted the one that will serve as a place of security and ease. And he got it. It took him a while, but now it was his and he used every second he spent there to appreciate it in various ways.

The fireplace considerably warmed the glass that kept it contained, and he stretched his fingers in front of it, letting the heat burn them a bit. He loved watching fire spread its flaming tongues all around. He felt its heat in his bones, and the sensation was beyond words. He looked at his wristwatch after 15 minutes of meditation in front of the fire. It had already passed midnight. He closed his eyes and decided not to wait for Kayla to come home. It wouldn't have made any difference if he did, because he wasn't in the mood to talk to her even if she insisted on a conversation.

He was tired and he yawned as he walked into his bedroom. It was a chilly night, but he took his clothes off and remained in his underwear. He huddled under the blankets and took a deep breath, trying to fall asleep. Unfortunately, lately he was having issues with it. His mind was so alive that, no matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn't find a position where his body would relax completely. It annoyed him, because he knew that he will probably wake up with huge bags under his eyes, and he always took pride in his appearance. He didn't use it much, but he believed that as a person in the public eye, or at least somewhat a public eye, he had to make a decent effort into looking as presentable as he could. There was always something of a boyish innocence whenever he looked at himself in the mirror, and he was happy about it. He won't be happy tomorrow, though, he thought, sighing. He turned around on his back, put his arms under his head and tried to figure out what was making him so tense. It wasn't Kayla's behavior; it could no longer make him feel nervous or excited. He was used to her being gone at night, as horrible as that sounds. Those rare times that she was home they wouldn't talk about important things, meaningful things that fed his soul, so whatever was going on inside of him; it was something new. It was something that he'd never felt before. He went through his day again.

He woke up as early as any other day. He felt good, he was happy to be working with a new client...he took a break, made himself some coffee...went to see what Anya was doing...and then he remembered the moment when he stood behind Anya's chair. It was that moment when he was struck with that strange current out of the blue. It was her, but not in the physical sense. She did have a nice, rosy perfume, and her hair smelled nice and fresh as well, but it was not that. It was the magical pull that he couldn't put into word. He closed his eyes and tried to remind himself of every single little detail of that moment, before he pulled her up off the chair and took her to the kitchen. Then his blood ran cold. He started fearing that he pushed her too hard, that he might think of him as predatory as Duncan. That was, effectively, the end of his attempt to sleep. He tried to get back himself in the relaxed mood by prodding deeper into his thoughts regarding Anya.