They were not there yet. After finishing at Tom and Eileen’s, Kate and Simon reversed the miles taken by Eileen years ago when she drove to Tom’s house in Chappaqua after she broke up with Simon.
They brought some desserts with them and when they were in the cavernous living room drinking cognac to settle their stomachs and chocolate cake to satisfy a sweet urge, sitting on the sofa next to one another, they talked. Simon had put on, as he usually did at night, Beethoven. His violin concerto this time, though not too loud.
Both changed from what they had worn to Eileen and Tom’s. He was in gray sweatpants and a long-sleeve polo shirt and she in pajama bottoms and a Yale t-shirt. Their legs were on the coffee table, between their cognac snifters. The cake—a single, large slice—was on Simon’s lap.
“You realize they expected us to tell them we were engaged don’t you?”
Simon took a bite of the cake.
“I know. Have you given it thought?”
“Wait,” Kate said, “isn’t that your job?”
“It may be my job to ask. But have you thought about it? It hasn’t been that long for you. Since your divorce. Since my dating. Since our…intimacy.”
Kate reached over with her fork and got a bit of the cake for herself.
“I don’t know. Part of me would say ‘yes.’ But I don’t know if all of me would. I think it is too early.”
“So do I. Believe me, though, I have thought about it.”
With that, the subject was closed. With the cake eaten and the cognac drunk, Simon took the plate and glasses into the kitchen and put them in the sink. He checked the downstairs to be sure everything was locked, and then he went up to their bedroom. There was no doubt that it was “their bedroom.” Kate had moved a good portion of her wardrobe there, though not much considering they spent most of their time in the City.
But there was zero evidence of Kate’s wardrobe when Simon walked in. She was lying in the middle of the bed. Naked. Her right fingers were gently running along her folds, below her trimmed pussy hair. She was on her side, looking at him as he came through the door. He ripped his stuff off and his dick was hard by the time he was finished. He opened the drawer of a side table, and quickly got a condom. She shook her head. He put it on the table.
“69.” It is all she said. She patted the center of the bed, and he took his position. On his back, his head toward the foot of the bed. She rolled and straddled him, her knees bent and her feet near the headboard. She lowered herself so he could smell her arousal as her right hand wrapped around his dick. He pulled her closer, his arms around her thighs, and she felt a charge run through her when the tip of his tongue came into contact with her vagina, peaking in slightly, tasting her wetness.
She concentrated on what she was feeling as she pumped her hand up and down Simon’s dick. It took a moment for him to begin running his tongue up and down her folds and giving a kiss to her clit as he passed it. She could not stifle a moan, but collected herself enough to run her tongue along the top of his dick and then to put its head into her mouth. Once she put it entirely in her mouth they found an equilibrium of giving and receiving.
After not many minutes, Kate pulled off of his dick.
“Stop.” She was breathing heavily. She rolled over. “Now put it on him.”
Simon took a moment to recover before standing and rolling the condom on. While he stood, she got on her back in the center, her legs spread. He knelt between them, looking down. She nodded and her hand reached for him. Simon lowered himself, allowing her to guide him into her and they both gasped when he crossed her threshold, their eyes locked.
Simon gradually picked up the pace, encouraged by Kate’s hands pulling his ass. He was on her chest, his hands gripping the top of the mattress for leverage, when their lips met but only briefly as they needed air. The expensive mattress was shaking finally as he ended with individual thrusts into her, plowing in and slowly pulling nearly out. He looked down at her, but her eyes were shut, trying to remove all stimulus except what she was feeling where they were joined.
She pulled him in tighter and would not relax her grip as she began to shake with the first wave of her orgasm. Her spasm was his signal to explode, and he held himself inside her as he came, several strings landing harmlessly in the condom.
Kate continued to shake until she had control enough of herself to release him, her hands flopping by her sides. He pulled out of her and rolled to his side, watching her placid face pull in air. She reached a hand over.
“I do love him.”
“And he loves you.”
With that Simon went to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for bed and she followed soon thereafter, and they both fell asleep in the sex-soaked bed.
Chicago: December 10
“Just go.”
She was right. It was an easy thousand. Thirty, maybe forty minutes earlier she saw him sitting alone at the hotel bar. He had a half-empty (not half-full from how he looked) glass of scotch that he was shuffling slightly from side to side on the bar itself. Mid- to late-fifties in a very expensive suit. White shirt. Subtle but noticeable cuff links.