1. No kissing
2. No holding hands
3. No PDA
4. No cuddling
5. No phone calls
6. Only texting is allowed
7. No discussing the contract in public or with other people
8. No dates
9. No sleeping in the same bed!
10. Always use protection!
"What am I l...
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"What are you doing for the holidays?" The tall slim white man in his mid thirties, dressed in a business attire asks me, sitting in a small chair with one leg crossing over the other. There's an open file in the middle of his lap as he clicks repeatedly and annoyingly on his pen.
That clicking noise is driving me insane but I remain calm focusing out the window at all the snow that's covering the ground like a blanket right along with frozen grass and different shoe sizes making patterns in all directions.
Even though it's below twenty degrees today somehow the students at this university can still stand outside and have a chat with their group of friends knowing it looks like a blizzard out there.
"Working." I scoff, watching students in layers of clothing carrying backpacks and books, walking back and forth across campus in groups, pairs or by themselves entering and exiting buildings underneath the thick snow falling from the gloomy looking sky.
Sliding a pack of brand out the small pocket on the front of my black purse, I take out a single and a red lighter glancing back at Dr. Peterson, my therapist, asking for permission to smoke in his office. "Do you mind?"
The light blue eyed man with his dark brown hair pushed back from his face politely shakes his head no with a small smile, closing the manila folder and setting it down on the glass coffee table.
Cupping one hand around the flame as I light the end of the single in between my lips, I inhale for a little and then exhale opening the window letting the fog of smoke air out.
"You're not spending time with your family?" Mr. Peterson slowly gets up off the chair and walks towards me. I take more drags from the single staring at nothing in particular as he stands so close behind me rubbing both hands down my shoulders in comfort with his face in the crook of my neck.
"Nope." I blow out a trail of smoke, tapping the ashes outside. "Me and my family are not close. We stopped celebrating Christmas or any other holiday a long time ago."
"You could always visit me, Brandy. I would enjoy your company." My fuck buddy starts kissing on the left side of my neck as I toss the cigarette outside then close the window, stepping away from his embrace.
"You have a wife, Adam." I mutter, flopping downward on the long sofa crossing my arms in front of my chest.
I stare at the certificate frames cluttering the wall in between a book shelf and a tall wooden trophy case to ease my mind as he remains behind the sofa I'm sitting on and massages my tense shoulders.
On his desk there's photos of his family and friends being snapped all across the world and one picture of his wife. Beautiful wife might I add.
You would think I'd feel bad for sleeping with a married man but I don't. It was his wife's idea to have an open marriage from the beginning.
