9
The week goes by quickly. Annie seems happier, more pliable. She’s being affectionate again, letting me into her space and her pussy. I’ve been coming home early and trying to be the man Annie wants me to be, needs me to be. The one I vowed I could be when I put that ring around her finger and promised her forever.
Work has been mostly uninteresting and uneventful, and despite me keeping my ear to the ground, I have discovered nothing new about Derek. No news reports about a man being mugged or beaten in Regents Park, not a whisper or a murmur of a missing man, and my name hasn’t passed the inspector’s lips all week.
I relax into things, ease into them, my paperwork no longer so daunting, my peers no longer a threat. The only shadow that follows me is Amy. Thoughts of her linger inside me and come up to play when I touch my wife, ugly-beautiful fantasies that have me hard and needing –demanding. I am consumed by them, and I allow them to burn me when I’m inside Annie till they are nothing more than echoes of my orgasm.
I pack up for the day and head out of the station. The sun beats angrily at the back of my neck, burning it with the afternoon fury. Beads of sweat collect on my hairline as I get into my car and start the drive home. My phone goes off and I peek at the screen. Annie. She needs me to stop at the Tesco and grab a few things for her.
Sighing, I turn into the packed parking lot and drive around for five minutes till I find a spot. Irritation climbs up my spine as I slam my door and lumber into the shop; not what I want to be doing after a long shift.
The shop is full of the usual suspects; screaming kids chased by haggard parents, school kids trying to be cool, and the occasional bachelor buying single-serve meals to last a week. Some pop song plays on the generic Tesco radio station. At least the air con is blasting.
I drag my shopping basket around, going through Annie’s list, the weight of the groceries starting to weigh on my forearm. I reach for a chocolate bar even though it’s not on the list. Annie will be pissed. She’s mentioned my love affair with chocolate and my growing waistline. Fuck it. I throw the bar into the basket and turn away when I collide with a smaller body. The girl skids a little, stumbles and grabs my arm to steady herself. When I look up, I am staring into two green pools.
“Amy?”
“Joe.” Her face brightens, and she smiles at me. “You saved me, again.” Her smile stretches a little more, and a shiver wracks through my body as I remember the last time I saved her. Releasing my arm, she tucks away an errant hair that escaped her messy bun during our collision. Her gathered hair shows off her long neck which is decorated by a thin black choker with a half-moon.
I take a small step back and rip my gaze away from her neck before finding her eyes again. “What are you doing here?”
“Getting food?” She says it like a question as if it is obvious, but she doesn’t live near this side of the city. I eye her basket, a strange collection of items, as if she’d randomly thrown them into her basket without much thought.
“But what are you doinghere?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “I was visiting a friend.”
“A friend?” My stomach coils at the thought.
“Yes.” She doesn’t elaborate, but her cheeks flush and her eyes fall to the floor for a second. The knot in my stomach tightens and the demon inside me stiffens. I draw in a long breath and release it, feigning indifference.
We stand staring at one another for a lingering moment. I know I should walk away. I know that her presence distracts me and that I can’t stop drinking cranberry juice since that kiss. But I don’t. Instead, I find a way to spend more time with her.
“How are you getting home?”
“I was going to catch the tube.” She’s following me down the aisle as I keep walking, wanting this shopping trip to be done.
“How about I give you a lift? That looks heavy.”
“That would be great.” Her face beams at me and God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles.
I skip over the tampons on the list. I’ll tell Annie they didn’t have her size. I lie to myself just like I am going to lie to my wife. The truth is, I just don’t want this girl thinking about me with another woman. As ridiculous as it is, she’s seen the ring on my finger, she knows, and despite this, I don’t want to keep it at the forefront of her mind.
I finish the shop and lead us to my car. Her short skirt rides up her thigh as she slides in, and my skin suddenly feels too tight for my body.
“So, how have you been?” I make small talk, realising I’m now stuck inside my car with this girl and silence will only bring discomfort. Maybe boring talk will take my mind off her silky thighs and long fucking neck.
“Busy.” She doesn’t elaborate, and my plan begins to evaporate.
“And your ex?”
“Hasn’t been around.” She looks up at me through her long lashes, and my cock throbs. “Thanks to you.”
As she speaks, her hand travels toward my side of the car and her fingers feather over my thigh. I say nothing, my hands clutching the steering wheel tighter as I look straight ahead and chalk it up to a mishap. Except that in my silence, she does it again, this time a little more brazen in her movement, her fingers surer, as they slide onto my thigh and towards my groin.
“Amy.” Her name is a loaded warning that she does not heed.
She doesn’t answer me. She lets her hand do the talking for her as it slides over my hard cock. My head snaps to her face when she does, and I see the slight drop of the mouth, the tiny little O that forms as she goes back in the other direction, stirring the animal inside me.