Small-town Scandal

Chapter 3: Paint Speckles on Her Cheek

Laurel was beyond happy to finally get to work on her apartment, a week had went by and she was dying to finally get settled into her new home. She wasn't enjoying her stay on the futon in her parents den, missing her queen size bed more than anything. But she had arranged with Brett a good time to work on painting and wallpapering the apartment, which meant that living in her apartment was coming more sooner than later.

She met up with Brett outside of the apartment, and couldn't deny that he looked cute in his tight-fitting black v-neck shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. She had worn a loose fitting see through blouse and a pair of ripped shorts, with her around-the-house striped flats that had seen better days. He had already put all of the materials in the apartment, but had waited for her outside.

"Beautiful day," Laurel remarked, looking around at the blue skied day, "I'm glad the weather held out for today. I was hoping we could let the breeze in."

"I guess the weather held out for you, it was supposed to rain." Brett replied, taking her inside the front door. He let her go up the stairs first, watching her hips wiggle as she took each step. His craving for her was insatiable, but kept it under wraps. He was a married man, and he had to remember that.

Laurel hopped up the flights of stairs, coming into her apartment to see the windows were all open already. She loved the way it smelt, everything was fresh and new combined with the sweet smells of the outdoors. She took a moment to breathe it in while Brett went over to the paint cannisters and began prying them open. He had already put the sheets down to keep the paint splatters from touching the brand new flooring.

"What do you think of the colour?" Brett asked, holding the lid open for Laurel.

When she saw the colour, Laurel was ecstatic. It was a soft periwinkle blue, and it was exactly how she envisioned it. She nodded, "It's perfect. Thanks for doing this all."

Brett nodded in acknowledgement, pouring the paint into the tray. Laurel readied her roller, and once Brett moved out of the way, she rolled it into the blue paint to soak some of it up. She went over to the wall nearest to the front door, spreading the roller across the wall as it crackled. Brett dipped his own roller in, joining her side as they painted. Brett had brought in a radio and turned on a soft pop station, playing songs that were of sexual nature. He watched as Laurel would get onto the tips of her toes to get to the ceiling, the way her legs elongated, stretching the muscles out. Each time he told himself to stop looking at her, she wasn't a sexual object and didn't need him, a married man, drooling all over her.

But she was like no one he had seen before. She had this energy about her that seemed to attract everyone around her, as if she was a magnet pulling everyone in. The way she moved was as though she was dancing, her body moving entirely in time with each stride of her toned legs, her hips wiggling in rhythm. Brett couldn't seem to stop staring at her, hoping that she didn't notice him. He wasn't a creep, or at least he wanted to think he wasn't, but Laurel had a way about her that he couldn't seem to stop gawking over.

Brett loved Emily, they had been married for six years, together for seven. They had a beautiful daughter together and they had worked side by side through everything. But they were lacking a lot in their marriage, something that probably came from too much stress over the years. He didn't resent Emily, not in the slightest. He knew that life was busy and people forget to take care of the little things after awhile, but he wished she would at least try. She had gone from this beautiful woman who adored life and most of all, loved him to death. But over the years she stopped focusing on loving him, instead she kept him at a safe distance. Sometimes he wished that she would push him down and kiss him like she used to. She used to be a passionate lover, a woman that excited him in and out of bed. Now she barely moved her hips when they had sex. Brett knew he was good in bed, but she was so disinterested that he began to question if their sex was getting boring. He wanted to fuck her like he used to, but she never wanted to. She was always sore and tired, and much preferred a back rub rather than his tongue eagerly searching her crevices.

Laurel hadn't been with a man in months, as for being in a relationship it was even longer. She had been so focused on her novel selling and all of the publicity that came with that it never dawned on her to actively search out a partner. Seven months ago she went on a few dates with a guy who she had sex with after the third date, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as she had wanted it to be. He tried very hard to please her, but he was acting rather than performing. It was as though he had watched one too many porn videos, and that he thought that was how people actually had sex. He was sadly mistaken. From there on, Laurel focused on her last few months of schooling and kept herself busy with other tasks. Now that her doors were wide open, it seemed as though all of the men weren't interested in her any more. She didn't want to admit that she had Facebook stalked a few potential suitors, only to find them with other women. Part of her wanted a booty call, the other wanted a man to love her day in and day out.

The two, stuck in their thoughts of relationships, worked silently to the music without speaking. But it was a comfortable silence, and every so often they would look at each other and smile. Brett liked the way Laurel looked next to him, and Laurel liked how Brett wasn't clambering to get her into bed like all of the other creeps in the world. They were from two different walks of life, yet they felt equally connected.

After a couple of hours, they finished painting the wall. Laurel admitted that she really only wanted the one wall painted, but after seeing the blue, she decided to do two more and leave the other for wallpaper. They decided to get lunch, and as they were getting ready to go, Brett couldn't help but notice that Laurel had the softest blue speckles of paint on her cheeks. He awkwardly pointed at first, but she didn't notice. When she turned back to him, her green eyes sparkling in the noon sunlight, he couldn't help but reach out and gently smudge away the paint. The feeling of his thumb against her cheek made her knees weak, how close he was to her sent her heart into flutters of excitement.

"Sorry, you had paint on your face." He mumbled, his fingers resting on her cheeks momentarily.

She blushed, not because of making a fool out of herself by the paint being on her cheeks, but for the mere fact of how much she liked his touch, "It's okay --- I'm glad I didn't go out into public like that."

"It was cute," Brett blurted out, realizing how inappropriate that may have sounded.

Laurel nodded, turning around quickly to hide the giddy smile on her face. But she felt so guilty, even if nothing harmful was done. Brett was a married man, and he was destined to stay that way. She would not be responsible for a marriage splitting.