Nice Day For A White Wedding

I sit back down on the bed and reach for the duvet. My hands have just grasped it when I hear a woman’s voice from the bathroom. The voice says my name as clear as day.

“Cindyyyy,” I hear again, the Y sound on the end being dragged out until it’s barely a whisper, and fades altogether.

I freeze, my eyes wide open and staring straight ahead in terror. I feel the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. That sound is most definitely not the pipes, and nothing will convince me otherwise.

“Cindyyyyy.”

I jump to my feet, no longer frozen to the spot. I run across the room like I have all the hounds of Hell on my tail, and slam open the door that connects my room to Alex’s, and step into his room, instantly noting the warmth in here compared to my room.

I expected Alex to be asleep in bed, and my plan was to sneak through to his lounge area and sleep on the couch in there. I was wrong though. He’s wide awake and sitting at a small table with a pile of papers in front of him.

He looks up, a frown on his face, obviously pissed off at the intrusion. His face changes when he sees me, and I know my terror must be written all over my face. He jumps to his feet and crosses the room. He takes my hands in his.

“Cindy? What’s wrong? What happened?” he asks urgently.

I don’t have the words to explain and I just shake my head mutely, aware that the only warm spots on my body are the places his hands are touching.

Alex

Choosing Cindy was a stupid mistake.

I knew it the moment our eyes met that night, but I couldn’t damn well help myself. And now I’ve dug myself into a hole I can’t seem to dig myself out of. I find it almost impossible to stop myself from flirting with her and touching her. I know I’m giving her mixed signals and it’s a low despicable thing to do, but I’m losing control over my own actions. For the first time in my life I’m doing things almost against my will.

It’s clear she is feeling the rush too. The way she reacted to Natalia is the way I would have if one of her exes came up and tried to flirt with her. No, it’s not the way I would have reacted: I would have punched a hole in his damn head.

I want her more than I’ve ever wanted any other woman, but I’m not going to jeopardize the fantasy I have created for Babushka. It is going so nicely. Everything is as perfect as I thought it might be. Babushka loves her. I’m not going to spoil it.

As I shrug off my jacket and shirt, the image of her lying on the grass, the sun in her hair comes into my mind. God, I could have taken her then. How easy it would have been to move my head closer and just kiss that soft, pink mouth.

I knew I had to shut the moment down, but once I did, the tension that wasn’t there between us became something impossible to disregard. Before it was in the background, humming gently. Now it’s like a relentless gnawing in my gut. It won’t be ignored. It won’t even let me sleep. I take off my pants and go to the bathroom in my boxer shorts. When I come back I toss my laptop onto the bed and settle down next to it. Work. Work might be able to consume my attention.

It always has in the past.

It takes ages to get back into working mode, my thoughts keep straying to her sleeping next door. Does she sleep naked? Fuck. I pull my thoughts away from the image furiously. I hate how weak and vulnerable I have become. If the men I ran with could see me now. How they would laugh. I think of my best friend, Yuri. How annoyed I was when he fell in love. For the first time I understand how he must have felt as he found himself being helplessly twisted around the little finger of a woman.

I force my attention back to the figures in front of me. This time I succeed. The deal sucks me in and I work steadily. I’m so involved I jump when the connecting door to Cindy’s room crashes open.

My head jerks up and the sight of her cuts the words off in my throat. Her hair is tousled and loose all around her shoulders, and she has hastily thrown on a short red silk robe that is barely long enough to conceal her pussy. She is clutching the robe tightly in her hands, but I can still see a deep triangle of the skin all the way down to her waist. It’s more than enough to tell me she’s probably naked beneath the wisp of covering. Her long, long smooth legs are a potent invitation all on their own.