Staring up at the man, she wondered if she should beg as she wanted to so dearly. Yet his eyes met her with the same softness they had standing at their do-it-yourself altar. Regardless of whether they married in haste out of pure necessity, Blue felt no guilt in taking for granted they’d married for love in those few moments. Convinced herself quietly that he cared for her as deeply as she for him. Sunk back into her own inventions where they ran away and started a family of their own. And though she felt a fond smile she hadn’t the mind to suppress would betray her fantastic delusions, Vincent merely straightened. Shrugged a throw over his shoulders. Pinned it beneath his arms. Hid the woman from the world as though they’d been watched and pressed into her somewhat gently. Traced the blossoming red marks that encircled her neck with his lips. Pushed his hips into hers rather crudely… Whether inspired by his ever-advancing orgasm or any genuine sentiment, he consid

Vincent, freshly bathed with beads of water gathering at the fringe and a towel dangerously low on his narrow hips was a sight to behold.  But perhaps even greater, was a half-naked Blue, arm thrown over her eyes, hair sitting in a mass beneath her, his own tee-shirt ridden up around her stomach and briefless nether region on full display to the prying eyes of a particularly aroused and thoroughly showered man. Despite the primal instinct to amend her nakedness with his own mouth and take on his tongue what he longed to taste so dearly, he shifted his weight with a sigh against the doorframe and watched the full frame of his dear wife become cast with his own shadow. "Ever since I met you, I've pictured you in my bed like this," "You have?" The darkness enveloping her shrunk with his every step forward until all that remained was a fraction of the looming shadow that had been. Much to his delight, a sliver of the bathroom light fell between he

Blue broke away. Hastily, she wiped at her lips and stepped around the corner with her arms out — Vincent watched with a small, half-hidden smirk of amusement… She was too caught up in pretending she wasn’t about to be finger-fucked that she failed to notice just how out of character it was for her to hug her mother. “Blue?” with stiff arms, she folded her daughter into an embrace, awfully careful not to mess up her hair. “I didn’t even know you were — when did you get here?”  “The bus just got here,” She wasn’t lying — it was something she had become good at; telling the truth without telling the truth. “I’m lucky Vincent was coming in, the doorbell wasn’t working for me,” With a drop of the placid smile Marian had surprisingly managed, she turned to the man. “A business call again? Do you not understand the point of a Sunday?” “Insurance is a busy field; people are dying every day,” “Where’s the food?

This time, Vincent took careful pause. Before she could grab ahold of his wrists and stop him, he was rising to his feet, pacing from her, tucking in the barstool he had been seated in only moments before as though he was searching for something to busy himself with — he was. “How long?” “My birthday.” Nervously, she wrung her hands in her lap. She’d imagined the conversation countless times over. He’d frown at her like he never had. Slap her, though this time not because she’d asked him to. Tell her to end the pregnancy. Scowl. Spit at her. Storm out. She’d be homeless. All at her own doing. “I have two pills in my tray from the day before and the day of,” Suddenly, the man’s shoulders shook. Her heart sunk. Was he crying? She stood rather unsteadily, making a slow approach. She knew what she would say as she did. She’d tell him he wouldn’t owe her anything if they divorced. She’d sleep with Richard, even at the price of her own s

“I’ve been thinking; what if Richard had the right idea buying you a car?” Blue glanced over her shoulder from the couch as the man spoke. It had quickly become her spot. He’d cook her dinner despite the fact he had worked all day. Massage her feet as they sat on the couch and waited for the oven. Refill the tea she’d finally finished after letting it steep for an hour or two and turn completely cold. Gently smile as he slipped a hand beneath her skirt. Wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her into his chest. Make her wish so dearly he’d call the housekeeper to finish the meal so she could lure him into their bedroom… He was pushing around two steaks in the frying pan, just as he had been for five minutes. Staring at the back of the woman’s head, he couldn’t help but consider what she had thought as she stared at the television rather aimlessly. He’d watched another man leave countless gifts at his wife’s doorstep that week. A car. A diamond necklace. Some simpl