Authors: Gina Elle
With the husband’s imminent return at any time now, I decide to make this escapade a quick one. No time for oral sex or any other kinky stuff tonight. I need to get my ass out of here and fast.
I pin her up hard against the wall with my legs. Amber is in heat. I squeeze her nipples as hard as I can through her dress and bra and she begins to convulse, eyes rolling to the back of her head. With my left hand, I unzip my jeans and pull out my cock. I tear open a condom as fast as I can, tucking the wrapper in my pocket. We don’t need any evidence left behind now, do we? Like a moth to the flame, I find my way to her vagina and I enter her hard and fast. She lets out a low moan. I see the sweat beading on her forehead. Her hair is a tangled nest beneath my fingers. I thrust hard and she yelps. I increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts. I know she can take it. I know
she’s loving it. I grab her left hand and take her left finger to my mouth. There, I suck longingly on her wedding band.
In my mind’s eye, I picture her husband exiting the elevator, fumbling for his room key card, walking towards room 206. He’s getting closer to the door when he hears the cries of his
orgasmic wife. That image, of me fucking another man’s wife, gels in my mind. I’m on the edge now and so is Amber. I feel it happening. Once I hear her orgasm, I release and let go. We come together.
Coming down from our high, I pull out of her as quickly as I can. Leaving the condom on, I tuck myself back inside my jeans. Amber is still reeling but she quickly pulls down her dress and runs to the bathroom to wash up. Leaving the bathroom door wide open, I watch her prop one leg onto the sink, exposing
herself freely and contentedly. Faucet running, she reaches for a washcloth and some soap and begins to wipe herself clean. I glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 10:32 P.M. I’m outta here.
“Well, Amber. With your husband about to walk in any minute now, I think it’s time
for me to go. Thank you for a . . . very pleasurable evening,” I say walking in to the bathroom to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“You never did tell me your name, you know?” She says with a smirk on her face as I bend in to peck her cheek.
“It’s . . .” I make my way out of the bathroom, “Dan,” I say feeling like the low life fuck up that I am. And, with that, I walk out of room 206 and back into the world of self-hatred and loneliness waiting for me upstairs in room 311 of the Hotel Indigo Boutique.
From: Amy Sharma
Subject: my thesis defense
Date: Tuesday, June 5, 2012 3:34 PM
To: Eric Martin
hey
eric,
what up. I have something to ask you. hope you don’t mind. next monday is my thesis defense at the university and dr. durand just told me that I could invite guests to take part in my defense. would you like to be my guest? you wouldn’t have to prepare or do anything at the meeting . . . just be there for moral support. you’re the only person i’d really want there since my family has no clue about my studies or my real life for that matter. what do you say.
A
From: Eric Martin
Subject: your thesis defense
Date: Tuesday, June 5, 2012 11:27 PM
To: Amy Sharma
Hi Amy,
I’m honored to be a guest at your upcoming thesis defense next Monday. I do have a few questions for you.
Since your thesis is on French literature (as I recall), will you and your thesis panel be speaking in French? If the answer is yes, then I’m not sure how much support I can give? Apart from
oui
and
non,
I’m completely deaf to the French language.
What time is this defense meeting? I’m leaving the next day for a three-day business trip to Vancouver and need to arrange my schedule ahead of time.
What exactly is your defense topic so if I do attend, I won’t look like an idiot unable to follow the discussion taking place? I wouldn’t mind reading up on your topic ahead of time.
Do you have a particular aversion to punctuation in your emails (i.e. capital letters, question marks)?
Eric
So that explains why Amy was anxious for me to read her email. Interesting request I must say and a first for me. I wonder why she didn’t ask one of her friends or her sister to attend her thesis defense. It not as though we’ve been very close. In fact, it’s been Amy who’s made every effort to keep in touch since we broke up. I haven’t been the one to call, that’s for sure. Nevertheless, I’ll wait to see how she responds to my questions and then decide whether I’ll attend or not. Then again, wouldn’t it be rude to turn down her invitation? I couldn’t do that to her, especially since I know how hard she worked this year on completing her Master degree.
Ping.
From: Amy Sharma
Subject:
A
nswers to your questions
Date: Tuesday, June 5, 2012 11:46 PM
To: Eric Martin
E
ric,
I
am so glad to read that you are considering the invitation to attend my thesis defense next
M
onday.
T
o answer some of your questions:
D
r.
D
urand gave me the option to defend my thesis in
F
rench or in
E
nglish.
E
ither is fine with me.
I
’ve decided to defend in both languages.
A
t the stage when guests are invited in to participate in the defense,
I’
ve opted to switch to
E
nglish, in accommodation of some of our ‘hearing impaired’ guests.
T
he defense is scheduled for 3:00 PM that afternoon but guests will be requested to be there for 4:30 P.M.
W
ould that fit your crowded schedule,
M
r.
M
artin
?
M
y topic is . . . are you ready
?
. . .
V
ictor
H
ugo’s
L
es
M
iserables
and pop culture’s notion’s of romantic love.
I
will gladly send you a few links to some websites on these ideas so you can read up ahead of time, if you wish.
N
o aversion at all to punctuation in my emails, sir.
A
s you can see,
I
am fully capable of using them . . . properly.
Now I have two questions for you:
Will you please attend my thesis defense next Monday?
Would you like to join me for ‘DESSERT’ afterwards?
A
I guess I’ll be going to Amy’s defense then
.
I immediately open my calendar on my iPad and type it in. Before calling it a night, I reply to Amy’s last email.
From: Eric Martin
Subject: response
Date: Wednesday, June 6, 2012 00:02 AM
To: Amy Sharma
yes
iwill atten
d
I’m on board, seated in my first class seat on route back to Toronto. I pull out my iPad and connect to one of the articles that I had downloaded on Amy’s thesis topic. Romantic love.
As opposed to the carnal
lust I engaged in last night with red-haired Amber?
Truthfully, the twisted, perverse secret that I‘ve been carrying with me for three years has been weighing on me a lot lately. My business travels have allowed me the opportunity to play out my sick fantasies: screwing with attached, commitment-laden, married women in faraway places. No chance of getting caught or being seen by anyone I know. No chance of these women coming after me asking for more. ‘More’ is something I decided I couldn’t do following Danny’s death. ‘More’ led Lara to a breakdown and left her to pick up the pieces of a shattered future. I’m repelled b
y the concept of ‘more.’ Well, I
was
repelled by it until I met Caroline.
There was never any chance of ‘more’ with Amy which is why I delved into a fun relationship with a younger woman who herself was craving fr
eedom and no commitment. Throughout the time I spent with Amy, I still secretly engaged in my conquests with married women in far-off cities. I was never fully committed to Amy and I doubt that she was to me. From the second I laid eyes on Caroline, though, I knew and understood that I wanted ‘more.’ Without even knowing her, somehow, some way, Caroline has helped begin to heal my broken psyche and to give me hope that I might be okay. Let’s just call Amber a momentary relapse.
So, the idea of romantic love in literature emerged in the 19
th
century, this website article explains. A time when writers in their works explored feeling and imagination as opposed to reason and logic. Victor Hugo was one such writer. According to the websites I’ve been reading, in his masterpiece, “
Les Miserables
,” Hugo captured the romantic vision of love through the story of Marius and Cosette. As the story goes, Marius falls in love with Cosette from afar (I’m intrigued already). Through furtive glimpses in a garden, Marius watches Cosette on a daily basis (lucky guy). Eventually, he sends her a handwritten note (an 1800s email) spilling all of the contents of his overfilled heart towards her. And then, late one night, under disguise, Marius sneaks into Cosette’s garden and woos her with an intimate speech conveying all his love for her. Cosette, Hugo portrays, is already in love with Marius, even before he speaks to her that night in the garden. For it was in that first glance of him from afar when Cosette fell in love with Marius. So the two meet up in the garden and “within a quarter of an hour, it was the young man who had the young girl’s soul, and the young girl who had the young man’s soul” (Hugo, Les Miserables).
The website I’m reading this from, called
The Romantic Portrayal of Courtship in Les Miserables
explains
the idea of the two falling in love by way of a breath or a glance from a distance, without words, brings to light the notion of romanticism. According to this article, Hugo tries to tell us that when in love, sometimes words cannot convey the depth of feeling and emotion felt by lovers. Love, therefore, is not a thing of the mind but one belonging to the heart that only the lovers themselves can feel, I read. I’m instantly reminded of that old Franki Valli hit “My Eyes Adored Ya” that my dad used to sing to my mom when Claudia and I were kids. Rather clumsily he used to waltz her around the living room, much to Claudia’s and my embarrassment.
So, I’m in awe. I read and reread these passages with such ardor that I practically know them by memory. Over two hundred years ago, Victor Hugo understood and wrote about what I experienced that morning at O’Hare airport.
Or is that the other way around?
From the moment I saw Caroline smile, I understood on some level that my heart belonged to her. No words between us. With a simple look, I knew. I was in love.
It’s nearing the end of my short flight to Toronto and I can’t wait until I get home when I can read up some more on this love story. I’m actually feeling excited about attending Amy’s defense next week. Perhaps I should email Amy asking her for more readings on the topic. I could even show up with a few questions of my own on the topic of romantic love for Mademoiselle Sharma and her panel of scholarly experts. Wouldn’t that be fun?
Reluctantly, I pack up my iPad and get ready for our landing. I glance at my iPhone and see another missed call from Lara.
Why is she so
anxious to get a hold of me
? That reminds me of the call I have to return to Dr. Leung’s office. Wonder what’s up with that, too. I make my way through the gangway and instantly recall the last time I was walking through one of these; Caroline was waiting for me at the exit. I indulgently allow my mind to wander and ask myself whether it could have been for Caroline like it was for Cosette with Marius, in love with me from first glance? I know, a guy can dream.
I’m back in the office and the place is as silent as ever. Uncharacteristically, the secretaries don’t even look up from their desks or computer monitors when I exit the elevator and step onto the floor. I’m not at all oblivious to the looks I get from them when I usually enter their space. Who wouldn’t find it flattering to be gazed at by onlookers? Everyone likes a good ogle from time to time, don’t they? My strategy has always been to disarm the women with my quick wit and sometimes-droll sarcasm. When I get them laughing, I have them right where I want them
. But today, something is amiss . . . no “Hello, Eric” or “How was your trip, Eric?” Not even my ever efficient and always friendly secretary Cate is biting. She gives me a curt hello and continues with whatever it is that she’s doing.
What the hell is going on?