Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
Ethan
and I still haven
’
t
had any sexual intercourse, but he loves me in a million of other ways.
He
knows my body, and before I broach the delicate subject, he tells me I
’
m not ready. I don
’
t contradict him, because he is right.
In
spite of what he did, he stills knows my body, what I can handle, what I need.
He
worries about me. I have been advised by Dr Beck to limit my activities to a
minimum since last week. I am getting too huge, too fast, for his taste, which
is worrisome. It couldn
’
t
have happened at a worst time because Ethan has lost his second mother, Helen
McCarty just a few days ago. I can
’
t
even go to the funeral with him, and it breaks my heart to see how distraught
he is, even if for me, he tries not show it. He claims I am his only concern,
and asks me not to worry about him. I can
’
t help it. He has done so much for me
lately. What kind of wife would I be if I didn
’
t worry about his well-being, when he
cares so much about mine?
The
way he brings me chocolates, when he finds me writing at my desk. The way he
lightly massages my shoulder almost unconsciously when he
’
s reading to me on the sectional. The way
he always makes sure to be the one taking me to any appointment I may have
outside the house, regardless of his own busy schedule, worried of not being
there in case something happens to me. The way he anticipates my needs before I
know to even formulate them.
A
million ways.
Our
intimacy has never been so high. We are completely attuned with each other,
even more than when we met and fell in love. That
’
s saying much considering the spot sex had
in our lives.
Sex
is there, but it
’
s
no longer as physical as it used to be. It
’
s actually almost uniquely cerebral, and
taking us to the beginning of us, to the root of what brought us together at
first.
The
surrender.
He
brings me pleasure; his own, deriving from mine and vice-versa.
The
way he touches my skin. Whether it
’
s
a light caress on my back, before he leaves for work, or the way he makes me
come within seconds when he presses on my clit while watching me, drinking in
every single reactions on my face, as I try to challenge him until I cry out.
Or when his body is screaming his need, arched and aching for my mouth to drink
from his engorged member and he resists the impulse of touching me and
excruciatingly waits for me to grant him release. Or even, when he falls
asleep, sucking on my breast, holding me, holding us. These are the ways, my
husband shows me he loves me, and is mine.
It
is almost as if the news of cancer, along with the pregnancy has triggered a
new beginning for us, a better one. In spite or despite of how it started. It
is bringing out the best of us, the best in us. That is what our son will be.
Ethan
says seeing me smile, watching me devour a bowl of ice cream leaving some on my
chin I
’
m
so eager, or seeing gleam and love in my eyes is all he needs to be happy. The
way we physically react to each other caresses is just an added bonus.
“
See you want me. This is all, I
’
ll ever need.
”
Ethan says, and I believe it.
Sexual
intimacy, without intercourse, who knew, it would be not only possible, but
also so
satisfying?
My
heart tells me we truly love each other, and it is as if as if the past year
hasn
’
t
existed.
I
look at my belly, and can
’
t
believe I am almost thankful for what Ethan did the night of our 3
rd
anniversary.
Insane,
I know.
My
life is complete. I have a husband who loves me, I am expecting a healthy baby,
and my PhD will soon be finished. The cancer is just a little blip on the radar.
I
’
m thinking, if this is what true happiness
is, then the price I paid to reach it wasn
’t
that high.
((~~!~~))
It doesn
’
t occur to me that I haven
’
t begun paying.
It doesn
’
t occur to me the bill hasn
’
t even been presented, yet.
CHAPTER 49
I
’
m a bitch, I know
…
Frances
The Oscars were a success. Not in terms of
little gold statuettes, - who cares, I already have three of these, so does
Julian-, it was a success, because my plan was unfolding beautifully. Well, so
I thought.
Julian
didn
’
t
back out. I had heard from Ari, that he had just returned from the Middle East
the night before last, and feared he would actually skip the event altogether,
but he didn
’
t.
He
actually picked me up from my place to go to the Kodak Theatre, which is only down
the road, for me.
I
was a bit shocked, but definitely stoked.
I
think it
’
s
an omen, so I keep telling myself,
“
Frances, just be dazzling.
”
And
that, I am. By the end of the ceremony, he is holding my hand, and we are
laughing, lost in our little word, like old times.
I
can
’
t
quite believe how easy this is.
I
almost want to ask about Victoryn, but I don
’
t. I
’
m not stupid enough to raise her name,
when evidently he is only focused on me.
I
decide, maybe I won
’
t
hurt him after all; he
’
s
coming around on his own volition.
Maybe,
I won
’
t
have to track down the bitch and tell her to stay the hell away.
We
go to two after-parties. We stay at each other sides and people comment on what
a beautiful couple we are. Soon it is 2:45 a.m., and he asks me if I want to go
home.
Sure,
I reply, smiling wildly, already thinking, how he will feel under me. I miss
him.
When
the Limo stops just 15 minutes after we have left the Beverly Wilshire, I slide
the window down, surprised by the shortness of the drive, - I mean, even with a
Ferrari at full speed, no one can go from Beverly Hills to Julian
’
s place that fast! -, and with stupor, I
realize we are at the entrance of my condo. I look at Julian, puzzled, and he
says,
“
You
’
re home Frances. Thank you for tonight, I
really needed the night out.
”
He kisses my cheek, and this is the moment the chauffeur choses to open my
door.
I
look at him, stunned and can only mumble,
“
Anytime Julian, anytime.
”
While in my head I say to myself,
“
Control yourself. Control yourself
Frances,
”
as I feel my heart ready to explode.
With
rage.
((~~!~~))
It takes me a full hour for my discontent
to subside to an acceptable level, what most people would call irate.
He
will definitely pay. I don
’
t
care what I have to do.
((~~!~~))
Two weeks have passed since the Oscars,
and Julian has rung twice since. Today, is the first time he offers to take me
out to lunch.
I
know for a fact his mystery lover hasn
’
t reappeared, so I am curious. In any
case, I am prepared this time.
Fool
me once shame on you; shame on me if I let you fool me twice.
I
am Frances Palmers, definitely nobody
’
s fool.
We
lunch
at
Trés
.
Say what you want about Julian
,
the man has good taste. Who knew of
this little treasure
at the SLS Hotel?
The
setting is quite romantic, but I don
’
t let it distract me.
And
,
I am damn right.
The
lunch starts well enough with light chitchat and to bystanders, it seems like a
casual lunch between lovers. We both know better, and every few minutes, our
eyes say so.
Suddenly,
Julian decides to get to the heart of the matter and states in a warm tone,
“
Frances stop.
”
While his eyes are giving me a hard
stare.
I
give him a full fledge smile and replies innocently,
“
Stop? What do you want me to stop exactly
Julian?
”
“
Investigating,
”
he responds his blue eyes, darker; yet,
his voice is still collected.
I
have to say I am surprised, but I don
’
t let it show; after all, I am as good an
actress as he is, if not better.
I
repeat coyly,
“
Investigating?
”
One of my eyebrows arched for emphasis.
He
flashes me a bright smile and I feel my Cheshire smile creep on my own lips.
This is one of the things I truly love about Julian, he is clever. Almost as
much as me.
He
leans forward, his elbow on the table and our faces are just a few inches apart
when he just says in a soft voice, yet oddly menacing tone,
“
Don
’
t say I didn
’
t ask nicely Frances
…”
I
lean forward too, now a full smile on, and when our lips and eyes are just less
than two inches apart, I ask in wonder,
“
But you did ask nicely Jul
…
except, I have no clue what you are
talking about. And, if for the sake of argument, I ever did
…
tell me, what would I get for my
compliance?
”
I
caress his cheek softly while my eyes never leave him and add casually,
”
Baby, how is it going with that huh,
person
…
woman
you ditched me for?
”
I lick my lips as I end the sentence.
I
pick one of the strawberries from the desert cup between us, and wait for his
answer, as I expectedly suck on the fruit.
His
eyes rest on my mouth and his eyes darken more.
Well
,
I haven
’
t
lost it at all! That man is still mine
,
whether he likes it or not.
When
his eyes next meet mine, he just says laconically,
“
Frances stop talking
…
that mouth of yours is going to get you in
trouble
…”
I
banter with him for a few more minutes, and when what I suspect is confirmed, -
I can still make him hard and eager -, I get up and tell him I need to leave on
account of an appointment I cannot miss.
As
I settle in my Porsche Speedster and reapply my lipstick in front of the rear-view
mirror I think,
Let
’
s
keep that bitch away and Julian will be back
,
his tail between his legs.
Then
I recall what I just saw between these legs
…
And,
I laugh. Out loud.
Who
knew I could derive so much pleasure from revenge?
Because
don
’
t
get it wrong, I still plan to make him pay.
Dearly.