Career over love

Chapter 6: Three years later

With a sigh, Michelle  sank back against the pillows, trying to shut out the sound of the shower running. Her husband, Benny was getting ready for long trip on the road. His suitcase lay open on the chair near the bed, another sat near the door. Would it never end? He never knew how long they would require of him, he just traveled the route, no questions asked. In her opinion, with both their income, he didn't have to take on so much. She wondered if he just wanted to be away from her.

The water stopped and she heard him rummaging in the adjacent closet for a towel. She turned her head into her pillow, willing sleep to come. There was a loud snap as he set his comb down on the porcelain sink and a belch of air from the tube of hair gel as he shook it into his hand. Michelle  sat up quickly, unable to go back to sleep.

Annoyed, she swung her legs onto the floor, wincing as her bare toes came into contact with the cold hardwood floor. Wearily she dragged a hand through her tousled hair, finger combing the tangled strands as she pulled on her robe, lying at the foot of the bed.

Joining her husband in the bathroom, she snatched up her toothbrush, squirted out a generous amount of toothpaste before shoving it into her mouth. Around the brush, she consulted him in the steamed up mirror.

"Id you have to wake me up? I'm so tired."

Spitting the toothpaste into the sink, she replaced the brush and rubbed at her dark circled eyes. "I was up 'til two working on the deposition for the case I have on Monday. I feel like I can hardly see straight."

"Oh baby I'm sorry," Benny consoled, washing his hands of the sticky gel and stepping behind her to wrap his big muscled arms around her waist, holding their bodies very close, swaying gently. He moved her hair to kiss the sensitive patch of skin on the nape of her neck, gently nipping as he kissed his way to her earlobe. She shivered. He always did know how to calm her down and turn her to putty in his hands. Turning in his embrace she kissed him, full on, putting all her pent-up passion into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, her breasts flattened against his bare chest, her nipples pressing against the thin material of her sleep shirt and silk robe.

She felt the stir of life against her stomach, a gentle prodding beneath the towel wrapped around his waist.

Benny groaned aloud, stepping away, disappointment etched into his handsome face. He ran a big hand over his face with a frustrated sigh. "Of all mornings to get horny. I'm so sorry babe, but I have to run. I have to be in Munich by six."

Michelle  nodded, dropping her hands to her side. "I understand, honey. Another time."

"You can count on it," Benny said, brushing a kiss over her mouth as he reached behind her for his blue button-down shirt. "I'm supposed to be back by Sunday night. But don't wait up for me. I will probably be late. "

She watched as he stepped into his good black jeans and struggled to pull the zipper over the bulge in his pants. He glanced at her with a sheepish smile and a sigh. "Gotta go babe. Love you."

"Love you too." She glanced at the small brushed silver clock on the counter of their sink. "I suppose I should get moving too. I have some laundry I need to tackle before I leave for the office."

With a wave in her direction, he was gone; in a flurry of aftershave and clean soap. The heady scent of his cologne hung in the room, well after he was gone.

Still in her bathrobe and shorty pajamas, Michelle  wandered down the hall to the laundry room. Three huge piles of laundry mocked her from their presence in a corner of the room. Taking up the challenge she got down to work, sorting and tossing colors into the washer, hanging up the shirts in the dryer and lugging the wicker laundry basket to the kitchen, where she began folding clothes as she ate her breakfast of buttered toast and orange juice. She reflected on her marriage as she chewed thoughtfully. Where had things gone so wrong? She remembered a time when Benny couldn't wait to pounce on her, the minute he walked through the door. She sighed.

But that was three years ago. They were newlyweds then, new to the art of lovemaking and always available for each other. She remembered how they'd christened each room of their small apartment, of their racy meetings in the shower before parting for work. Their loving touches out of the bedroom, Friday nights that were set aside just for each other. My goodness, she couldn't remember the last time they'd been out on a date, just the two of them.

Well, maybe she could. It was New Years Eve, two and half years ago. They had attended an office party hosted by her employer and his wife. It had been so elegant with gold furnishings, fluted glasses of champagne, table after table laden down with food. Ice sculptures in the shape of swans. Rich blue fabric draped over ceiling to floor windows. Christmas music playing softly in the background. Some had taken to the dance floor, the men, handsomely clad in black tuxedos twirling their lady partners in their arms. Benny had even stepped out a time or two. It had felt so good, so right as he had held her, their faces close, his breath stirring the curls at her ear that had escaped the upswept French twist.

At some point in the evening, one of her co-workers had stood to make a speech and toast in Mr. Preston's honor. As Dave Garwell sang praises of his great attributes, Michelle felt a slight tug on the skirt of the slim red dress she wore, but not wanting to be obvious, she pretended that nothing was happening, seeing out of the corner of her eye, the mischievous smile on her husband's face. Then his big warm hand slipped beneath her skirt, only to pause in his exploration as Benny realized she wasn't wearing underwear that particular evening. She had never seen him so eager as then, to leave the room. Catching her hand in his, he murmured to the group of people seated around them, that they had an "emergency" to take care of, and swiftly led her into the hall.

"Where's the coat room?," he asked in a rough voice, his harsh breathing matching hers.

Michelle  led the way, closing them inside the darkness, dropping the lock into place. Hopefully no one would attempt to leave the party early and wonder about the locked door.

They wasted no time in divesting each other of major clothing. Michelle swiftly undid his belt, drawing the zipper of his black dress slacks down. He braced her against the wall, hurriedly shoving up the hem of her dress to expose her wet, glistening pussy. He couldn't wait any longer. Holding her small, round bottom in his hands, he plunged his manhood deep within her. Michelle  gasped at the fullness of him, buried to the hilt inside her body. She wrapped her long legs around his waist, pulling the crisp white shirt from the band of his pants, stealing her hand beneath the shirt to fondle his chest, curling her fingers in the light smattering of hair, brushing her fingertips over his tight nipples. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and replaced her fingers with her mouth. He moaned against her mouth as he thrust his tongue down her throat, matching in rhythm, what he was doing to her body.

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Some words contains maturity:Sorry to youngsters .

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