VIOLET: Hey, just wanted to thank you for the kiss.
A few minutes later, I got my response.
RHYS: My pleasure.
VIOLET: I want to thank your thick cock too.
RHYS: Soon.
VIOLET: Goodnight.
RHYS: Goodnight.
As I prepared to spend the weekend with my mother, I texted Rhys, letting him know I was taking a short trip and he was on his own. His return text was vague.
RHYS: OK.
I had no obligation to let him know my whereabouts but didn’t want an incoming text like the one I’d received a few days ago flashing across my smartphone.
RHYS: Pretty pussy, here now! Green.
I had no complaints with green so far and enjoyed the large candlelit table that could easily seat twelve he had set up in one of the club rooms. When I asked what we were having, his reply was his tongue inside me for hours on top of that very table. He sent me home with a sated smile, promising me more of where that came from.
The man was a fucking miracle.
I put one last piece of clothing in my bag, only to meet Alex at the door. His arms were crossed. He must have caught me smiling and thinking of Rhys. I didn’t feel any guilt as I pushed past him.
“Where are you going?”
“Away, Alex. Have a good weekend.” He stopped me with his hand on my shoulder.
“Whatever I’ve done to hurt you,” he said, staring at the floor between us, “I really didn’t mean to.”
I sighed heavily, fighting my emotions. Why the hell did I still care? Why the hell did this man still get to me?
“Why are you suddenly so concerned with my affections, Alex, and with the state of our marriage? It’s too late, even to keep up appearances. Despite what you think, I’m not an idiot. This, the way you’re acting right now—” I gestured to him “—isn’t genuine, and whatever your reasons are at this point, I don’t give a damn. Don’t play concerned husband now. There is nothing left for you here,” I said, holding my chest, my voice shaking.
“I know you still love me. You are my wife.” He pulled the bag from my hand, setting it down in an attempt to pull me to him. I brushed him off easily.
“It’s too late. Way too late. I’ll be back.”
I walked out on him then, a small amount of satisfaction and a little sadness accompanying me as I went.
I spent the weekend doubled over with cramps and eating my mother’s homemade fudge. It was the perfect set up: my mother, the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, and endless amounts of chocolate. We laughed and cried, made huge breakfasts, and spent a large amount of time snoozing on the couch. Sometimes a girl just needs her momma, and this Southern belle was no exception.
I came home refreshed on Sunday and texted Rhys right away.
VIOLET: Home safe. Hope you are well.
I waited hours for my reply.
RHYS: Ok.
Wow, he was on a roll. I felt I owed him some sort of explanation. We were exclusive, but only sexually. It appeared he didn’t give a damn, so I left it alone. I wanted to see him. I wanted to talk to him, but I was still bleeding and casual talk wasn’t exactly our arrangement. I would just have to see what he did next.
Son of a bitch! I moaned as I stomped around my house. It had been a week since I’d gotten back from my mother’s. It was Sunday afternoon and I had listings to show in the morning. I had put myself back to work full time, no longer having an excuse to be a lazy, moping wino. Giving myself a kick in the ass, I got back on the treadmill, even if it was only twice for twenty minutes. I felt better about myself and this was progress, but my tour guide seemed to have quit without resignation and I was beyond frustrated. I heard the ping and leaped for my phone. Man, he had me. It was another address followed by a ‘green.’
I was still furious with him for making me wait but couldn’t keep my feet from taking the steps to my shower for a quick scrub. Putting on a pair of jeans and a dressy top, I slipped into a more comfortable pair of heels. Running my hands through my long, blonde hair, I noted that I needed a cut and got into my car.