Chapter 12: The Weekend
Between Us Girls, by Natalie Drenovac
If you’re new here, read: Chapter 1
Saturday, August 24
“Soft scrambled with butter.”
She’s still holding me. Our faces inches apart.
“David thinks I’m going to yoga.”
“How long?”
“Noon class.” Her eyes are dark.
I pull her shirt over her head. She’s already reaching for mine. We’re stumbling backward, shedding clothes, mouths finding skin.
Against the wall in the hallway. Her bra comes off. When I take her nipple in my mouth and suck hard, her head falls back.
“Fuck.”
Circling with my tongue, I bite down gently. She cries out. My hand finds its way into her leggings while I switch to her other breast.
Her body responds immediately. Already swollen when my fingers find her, circling slowly.
“Jesus.” Her breathing changes. “You’re going to make me—”
I pull my hand away.
“Not yet. Bedroom. Now.”
We stumble down the hall. Her leggings come off as we go. By the time we reach the bed, she’s naked.
“Lie down. On your back.”
Going to my dresser, I pull out a silk scarf. Her eyes go wide.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Then close your eyes.”
The scarf goes over her eyes. She’s already breathing hard.
“Can you see anything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
For a moment, I just let her lie there. Waiting. Not knowing what’s coming.
“Alex?”
One finger down her sternum. Between her breasts. Down her stomach. She shivers under my touch.
Leaning down, I put my mouth on her breast. Her body feels charged. Bracing deliciously. Trying to anticipate what’s coming.
I suck her nipple, My hand slides between her legs. She moans. I pull back. Then trace her lips lightly with the tips of my fingers. She opens them.
I keep the pace slow. Deliberate. Letting her feel every fingertip. I run a fingertip over her clitoris, gently, tracing it.
“Faster,” she breathes.
“No.”
I want to build gradually. When she’s close, I pull my hand away.
“I want to enjoy you.”
Reaching for my nightstand, I grab another scarf.
“Hands above your head.”
She lifts them. I tie her wrists to the headboard. Not tight. Just enough.
“Oh god.”
“You can say stop.”
“Don’t stop.”
I take my time, kissing down her body. She can’t see. Can’t touch me. Can only feel.
When my mouth reaches between her legs, she cries out. Just my tongue. Soft.
“Please.” After a few minutes, her voice breaks. “I want—”
My mouth moves to her inner thigh instead.
“Alex—”
“Be patient.”
Teasing continues. My tongue. My fingers. Never quite enough. She’s writhing now, pulling against the restraints.
“Please. I’m so close. I need—”
My tongue finds her clit, circles it steadily while two fingers push inside her.
Her whole body arches, crying out, pulling against the scarf. The orgasm crashes through her.
Not untying her yet. Just moving up her body. Kissing her while she’s still trembling.
“That was—”
My hand slides between her legs again. Her hips jerk.
She’s swollen, sensitive. Keeping my touch light.
“Oh.” Different this time.
Going slow. No pressure. Just sensation.
The second orgasm takes longer. Building gradually. When it comes, it’s softer. A long, rolling wave instead of a crash.
I’ve never been with someone so responsive. So multi-orgasmic. It makes me want to find every possible way to make her come.
Untying her wrists. Removing the blindfold. She blinks up at me.
Pulling me down, she kisses me deep. Then flips me onto my back.
Her mouth travels down my body. When she reaches between my legs, my fingers thread through her hair.
She’s learned what I like. The exact pressure. I’m already close just from watching her.
“Just like that..”
Keeping the same steady pace until I’m coming, her name on my lips. We lie there tangled together.
“What time is it?”
Checking my phone. “Ten thirty.”
“We still have time.”
She straddles me. Her on top, taking what she needs. Watching her whole face change when she comes.
By eleven forty-five, we’ve showered. She’s dressed. Flushed and satisfied.
“Same time tomorrow?”
Laughing. “I wish.”
“Tonight then.”
“What?”
“Tell him you’re getting drinks. Come back.”
Her eyes light up. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. Miranda’s not back until tomorrow.”
“Okay. Yes. I’ll text you.”
When she leaves, she kisses me in the open doorway. Like no one could see.
Emily texts at seven while I’m on FaceTime with Miranda. Hearing the debrief of the day, how Tim left everything to the last minute. No one was prepared. But it went well. Miranda really connected with the lead from the private equity firm. She hung up quickly, had to get ready for dinner. Her boss was taking them out to celebrate the win. Miranda was always meticulously prepared for any work social occasion. That’s where the real deals are done. She’d say.
Emily: Kids asleep.Told D I’m meeting Carmen. Bringing wine. 8?
Me: Perfect.
Miranda: Love you. Don’t get too lonely without me.
Me: I’ll try ;) Love you too.
When she arrives, she’s holding a bottle and wearing a dress I haven’t seen.
“You look delicious.”
Handing me the bottle. It’s a 2015 Château Margaux. “From David’s collection. He’ll never notice it’s gone.”
I open it on the couch and pour two glasses.
“I can’t believe I’m here again.”
“Why not?”
“Because technically I’m a responsible mother who does yoga yet here I am drinking wine with you.”
“Which version do you like better?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “This one.”
She pauses.
“I love being a mother. I just miss being…me. Sometimes. That probably sounds so cliche and boring to you.”
“Not at all.”
“I know these were my choices. I could have stayed childfree.” She sort of nods to me, as if I’m a poster child for the lifestyle she didn’t choose.
“Honestly, no judgement from me. I’m sure it’s a lot.”
“My life looks exactly how I imagined. But it feels…different. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever imagined that future version of me having feelings - it was just a picture. Laughing over a wedding cake, little curly haired toddlers, snuggling on the couch, hanging Christmas ornaments together. I love it, just no one tells you how completely life changes after kids. Not really.”
I pour the end of the bottle into her glass.
“What have you got tucked away in that cellar of yours?” She laughs. “I’m sure Miranda buys only the finest.”
Was that a swipe at Miranda? It could be innocent but something in her tone tells me it’s not. She is poking fun at my wife and her, shall we say, particular standards.
“You might like a…Prosecco?” I say. She laughs long and loud.
“God, she hated me last night.”
Suddenly, I don’t want to talk about Miranda. I don’t want Emily to talk about her. In fact, I don’t want to think about my wife at all.
“Let’s put music on.” I say.
“What?”
“Music. Something good. I want to dance.”
I find Carmen’s ‘hot girl sh*t’ playlist and let it shuffle. She stands, pulls me up.
“I’ll dance with you.”
We dance in my living room. She’s uninhibited in a way I’ve never seen her. Spinning. Laughing. Pulling me close then pushing me away playfully.
“You’re different tonight.”
“I’m drunk.”
“It’s not just that.”
Stopping, she looks at me. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to be careful. I don’t have to manage anyone’s feelings or make sure everyone’s okay. I can just... be.”
She kisses me before I can respond.
The song changes. Something slower. Still swaying but our hands are wandering now.
“Right here,” I say.
“What?”
Already unzipping her dress. It falls. She’s in black lace underneath.
We’re in the middle of my living room. Windows open. City lights everywhere.
“Take it off.”
“You take it off.”
Hooking my fingers in her bra. Undoing it slowly. Letting it fall. Then pulling her underwear down inch by inch.
When she’s naked, I just look.
“What?”
“Get on the couch. On your hands and knees.”
Her eyes darken. She does.
Going to the bedroom. Coming back with the strap-on. Her face changes when she sees it.
“Oh god, yes.”
Putting it on. She’s watching, already moving restlessly.
“I’ve been thinking about this. Just the two of us.”
“Yeah?”
“At the Hamptons it was...” She trails off.
Kneeling behind her. Running my hands over her ass, down her thighs. Running the tip through her.
“Please.” Her voice breaks. “I need you to fuck me.”
Sliding in from this angle and she moans. Deep. Hungry.
“Yes. God, yes..”
Starting to move and she gets wild immediately. Nails gripping the couch, pushing back against me, these sounds I’ve never heard her make.
“Harder.” Gasping. “Please. Harder.”
Going faster. Deeper. She’s completely uninhibited now.
“I love this. I love how you fuck me.”
“Touch yourself.”
Her hand slides between her legs.
“Look at me.”
Turning her head. Eyes locked on mine while I fuck her, while she touches herself.
When she comes, she screams. Actually screams. Doesn’t care who hears.
Pulling out carefully. She collapses onto the couch. Trembling. Grinning.
“That was..”
“I know.”
“Just us is so much better.”
“Yeah.”
Still breathing hard.
“That was intense.”
“Good intense?”
“The best intense.”
Rolling on top of me. Pinning my wrists above my head. Grinning down at me.
Kissing down my body. Taking her time with my breasts.
“I didn’t think I’d like this so much.”
Looking at her. “No?”
“David never...” She stops. Laughs.
“He doesn’t do this?”
“No. He barely touches them.”
Going back to it. Alternating between gentle kisses and harder sucking. I’m squirming beneath her.
Her hand slides between my legs.
“God.” Her voice drops. “I love how wet you get.”
“No one to blame but yourself.”
Two fingers push inside. The angle hits perfectly.
“Like this?” Curling her fingers.
Watching my face, reading every reaction. Her mouth on my breast, her fingers moving, and I’m lost.
“I want to watch you. Don’t close your eyes.”
I don’t. Watching her watching me. The intensity in her eyes. How focused she is.
I come hard, hungrily. And I still want more.
Around midnight, her phone buzzes. It dawns on me that I haven’t checked mine in hours. Fuck. I grab it and a message from Miranda sits on the screen. Luckily, it’s only from ten minutes ago.
Miranda: I am so DRUNK. Ian just kept ordering for the table. So many stories to tell you tomorrow. BRB going to go faceplant into bed.
I sent back a laughing emoji. She sends a snoring emoji.
Me: Miss you. Love you. Going to bed x
Which technically isn’t untrue…I have been. Sending the text is surprisingly easy. If I feel any guilt it’s buried somewhere deep.
“David is asking where I am.”
Typing back. Showing me: Still out. Home soon x
“Aren’t you worried?”
“No.” She says, setting the phone down. “Honestly I’m surprised he noticed.”
“Well, if he saw you leaving the house in that dress earlier…that might have piqued his interest.”
She pulls me into a kiss. We fuck one more time. We’re both tired but not wanting to stop. When she finally comes, she’s quiet. Intimate. Her forehead pressed against mine.
Finally, around one AM, she gets dressed. At the door, she’s flushed and perfect. Kissing me.
Then she’s gone.
I clean up the wine bottles. The glasses. I wash everything away.
I get into bed. My phone buzzes.
Emily: Home. That was perfect. Can’t wait for the beach.
Smiling. Deleting it.
Sunday, August 25
I wake up late. The apartment smells like last night.
I get up and open the windows. Let a clash of city traffic and a gust of air through. I strip the bed and wash the sheets. Wondering what else might smell…different, displaced.
While the washing machine runs, I sit with coffee and scroll through photos. I find one from our honeymoon. Miranda and I on the Amalfi Coast. Gleaming.
On the third day, we took a boat to Positano. We were having lunch at a restaurant overlooking the water. Miranda had been talking about our five-year plan. Where we’d buy property in the Hamptons. Which private schools for future kids. Investment strategies for our retirement accounts.
I’d been half-drunk on limoncello, watching the boats in the harbor, and this thought just arrived: I wonder how long I’ll be married.
I’d sat up fast. Gone to the bathroom. Splashed cold water on my face until the thought went away. Convinced myself I was just overwhelmed by the heat and the wine and the newness of being married.
We’d had sex that night. It was fine. Good even.
I wonder how long I’ll be married.
The washing machine beeps.
Miranda is home at two thirty.
“Baby!” She calls out, hugging me. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too.”
We kiss with closed lips.
“I cannot wait to get away to St Barths. I need a break from the city!”
“I know. So excited.”
“Me too. I need new swimwear.”
Already shopping on her phone.
“I’m so glad to be home.” She says, kicking her shoes across the hallway. “I’ve texted Emily by the way.”
My heart drops.
“About dinner next week, getting everyone together.”
Keep Reading: Chapter 13
INSTAGRAM:
© All Rights Reserved
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. The characters, events, companies, places, names, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance, whether direct or indirect, to actual persons (living or dead), places, events, or businesses is entirely coincidental and unintended. Where reference is made to real locations or historical events, such references are included solely for the purpose of creating a sense of authenticity. They should not be interpreted as depicting real people, their actions, or their conduct. The author expressly disclaims any and all responsibility for any such interpretations or assumptions.
💋