Trouble (Mature) [Discontinued]

Two

"Absolutely not. You've lost your mind, George." Milla rapidly shook her head before chuckling into her wine glass. Their marble table sparkled under the chandelier and cast the steak dinner in photographic lighting.

"Just hear me out, Mil." He moved his seat back and came to squat beside the incurious woman. "I'm not oblivious to your dissatisfaction with our sex life. Why not give you what I can't for your birthday?"

Hearing the hope in his voice twisted her stomach and the forkfuls of food in her stomach threatened to reappear.

"George, why don't you and I experiment? I'm not comfortable with bringing someone else into our marriage." Pushing her hair over her shoulder, she took his hands and stroked the back of them. Just his touch sent waves of calmness through her body and she wanted to curl up in his arms.

"It's not bringing in someone. It's a gift that I'm granting you."

"So cheating is a gift?" Her eyebrow rose on its own at the statement. The idea of sleeping with someone else, despite her need for a release, didn't sit right within her.

"It's not cheating if we both agree to open up the marriage for your birthday. I don't really have any interest in anyone else, but I want you to be open to this. Please?" His eyes told her he was being earnest and she wasn't sure if that made her feel any better. What kind of husband begged his wife to fuck another man?

"I can't. It doesn't feel right, George. Just drop it." She went to pull her hands from his but he kept a tight grip on her mahogany flesh.

"Okay, how about we both explore for the night? It'll be mutual then we can forget it ever happened." Milla could only stare at the man before her. Unconsciously, she placed the back of her hand to his forehead to feel for a fever. Surely her husband wasn't suggesting they open their marriage for the night.

"I'm being serious, Mil. For me? Just one night."

"Okay. I'll think about it."
...

"Hello, I'm looking for Judge Habins." Her stilettos clicked on the tiles as she approached the receptionist.

"Sure thing, Mrs. Downer." The dark haired woman smiled brightly before dialing the three digit extension for the judges office. After a brief conversation she was escorted to the large office.

"Downer, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Judge Habins was a wrinkled white man with a permanent glare despite his constant joking.

"I believe this is for you." She passed the man a subpoena- it's familiar template causing him to roll his eyes.

"I keep telling you the court clerk can do this. You don't have to put on those stilts and strut to my office all the time." He softly took the paper from her before placing his small framed glasses on the edge of his sharp nose.

"Well how else will I assert my dominance over your interns?" She giggled while collecting her briefcase.

"I don't think you need to even show your face for that to happen. Whole office has been none stop praising you for the recent Matthews verdict." He placed the paper down to gaze at her over his glasses.

Dylan Matthews had been a notorious serial killer who targeted those in the justice system. The previous state attorney made a mistake that allowed the man to walk free. Milla vowed he'd never see the light of day again had she been assigned the case and delivered on that vow with a sentence of 260 consecutive years without possibility of parole.

Despite all she'd seen over her career, Milla protested the death penalty. Outside of countless studies proving it to result in increased legal fees, she thought it to be too easy for offenders. It was easy to die, but spending 40 plus years in a supermax ate away at a person's psyche.

"As they should." She dismissed before leaving the office.

When she finally arrived back home, she hesitated to get out of her sleek, black BWM. Her birthday was tomorrow and George was supposedly inviting over their 'guests' tonight. He'd even managed to get two consecutive days off by flying in a replacement surgeon for the trauma unit. It scared her to see how far he was willing to go for this.

A part of her wondered if it was just a scheme to sleep with another woman, but she couldn't allow herself to think like that when he'd originally posed the idea for her. Finally stepping out of the car, she grabbed her briefcase and straightened up her pencil skirt.

"Hey, Mil." George excitedly greeted from the door of the garage.

"Hi, honey." She smiled lightly as she strut towards him. He took the case from her hands before leaning forwards to place a soft kiss to her lips.

"Come on. They're not here yet." The statement immediately caused relief to fill her. Once inside, she kicked her heels off and climbed the large stairs towards their bedroom. Instead of following her, George headed into the kitchen.

Once she'd made it to their room, she began unbuttoning the white, silk top careful of the gold buttons. Her feet were sore and her calves ached from all her movement. Instead of undressing as she usually did, she reasoned she'd be able to sneak in a moments rest before their company arrived.
...

"Mil. Wake up." The woman was woken to her husband shaking her softly.

"Go away." She groaned out as she turned over in the large bed, her body swallowed by the handmade thousand dollar mattress.

"They're here, baby. Come on." George grabbed her arm and pulled her limp body into his chest. The action received another string of curses before she finally cracked her eyes open to find the room shrouded in darkness.

"Give me a minute." She groaned again as she padded to their bathroom to straightened herself up. Washing her face free of makeup, she moisturized as usual- her clear skin glowing in the warm light. Taking a comb to her hair, she settled on a semi-slick bun that sat at the nape of her neck.

Once she hit the second platform of the staircase, she began smelling the meal George had cooked. It was intoxicating and she almost rushed down the steps had it not been for the numerous voices that now echoed in her home. One was clearly feminine and sultry while the other held a deep bass that made her stomach quiver.

Taking a deep breathe, she softly shuffled through the foyer and into the kitchen. At the island sat a large masculine form next to a slim, yet curvy figure. George turned from the stove and smiled brightly at her.

"Derek, Penelope, this is my wife Milla."
...