Never Talk

Never Talk

Author’s Notes: Please read and review. Constructive criticism and comments are appreciated.



Chloe gasped as she felt Robert’s tongue on her clitoris and two of his fingers moving inside her. She watched his head between her legs as she came. Soon he lay on his back on the bed, his erection jutting forward, looking large and impossibly hard. She straddled his lap and sank down onto his erection with his hands holding her hips. She could feel him inside her stretching her inner muscles. She moved up and down, slowly at first but rapidly gaining momentum as her orgasm built. She was breathing shallowly and her nipples were incredibly hard. She threw her head back and moaned as she orgasmed for the second time that night. She looked down at Robert and felt him thrusting into her erratically as he climaxed without making a sound. Chloe put on a bathrobe and watched him as he finished dressing and got up from the bed. She followed him out of the bedroom, into the living room and watched him as he made to leave. When he got to the front door she called out to him.

“I love you,” she said softly.

He paused momentarily but didn’t say anything at all, didn’t even turn back to look at her. He stayed like, his hand gripping the doorknob strongly, his body coiled tightly as if tensed for attack, before turning the doorknob, opening the door and quietly closing it behind him as he left her apartment. She stared at the door for a while before turning and going back to her room to get her pajamas, she had to have her shower now, she was dirty.

She opened the door in her bedroom that led to her private bathroom. She stepped under the warm spray and felt the hot water roll down her skin. As she rubbed the shower gel onto her skin with a bath sponge she cried. And as the tears rolled down her cheeks mingling with the drops of water she thought of how much she loved him and hated him. She hated him with her mind, body, and soul; and all through her shower she marveled at how closely her hatred of him resembled her love. She stepped out of the shower feeling exhausted. She dried herself with a fluffy, white towel and got dressed for bed.

As she lay in her bed staring up at the ceiling, almost completely engulfed by the covers she wondered why she allowed this. She wondered how she could let him do this to both their lives. It wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t sane. It was sick and it was wrong and it was any and every other multitude of adjectives that aptly described the sheer depravity of the situation. He was married to another woman.

She shifted and turned to her right so she could look at the clock. It was 11:47 p.m. She wondered if he’d gotten home safe and what he’d tell Stephanie. He would most probably say he had been working late; it was true after all (she should know since they worked together). He would not, however, tell her he’d gone to his colleague’s apartment, and had sex with her. He wouldn’t tell her he had done it before and would do it again and again and again until he couldn’t do anymore.

Her eyes clouded over and she started crying again. Let the waterworks commence, she thought cynically. Poor, poor Chloe. It must be horrible to have the man you love, a married man, come to your apartment and make you orgasm. My heart breaks for you, she thought as the tears continued falling on her pillow. The problem was her heart did break. Every time they had sex and every time he left because they weren’t having sex, her heart broke a little bit more until she was afraid it would break so irrevocably that she would have to rid herself of it for fear that the constant aching would drive her mad.

Chloe and Robert had been friends for a long time, long before he had met Stephanie. They had supported each other for so long; they would have died for the other on a moment’s notice. They were devoted to their friendship and each other. They had shared laughs, tears, arguments, hopes, dreams, disappointments and fears; keeping each other company through thick and thin. Was it any wonder she’d fallen in love with him? She knew of course that her love was unrequited and that he only cared for her as he would for a sister. Even if it had been otherwise he would not have wanted to risk what they had. She idly wondered when and why that had changed. But of course she already knew.

It had changed when his wife had been investigated in a murder case because the victim had been one of her current lovers. There had been a terrible scandal further inflamed by the negative publicity. The shock, pain and humiliation of having his wife’s betrayal come to light had very nearly crippled him, but he had stood by her even when confronted by her unfaithfulness. Stephanie was anything but innocent, however she hadn’t committed murder. Near the end of the fiasco, when her name had been cleared, the victory had been an empty one. Stephanie’s protestations of regret and her subsequent apologies had managed to convince Robert that they should stay together but they had not stopped him from being hurt or from eventually resenting his wife. She knew he had only stayed with Stephanie because he had fooled himself into thinking that nothing important had happened and she had only made a mistake more than from some doubtful desire to be with her.

After a month of them pretending nothing had happened, he’d finally broken down. He’d followed her home in his car after working late to cry on her shoulder. She’d been resigned to comforting him while he raved, ranted and finally broke down in tears of anguish. She had been resigned to the fact that she was powerless to stop any of the things that were causing her friend, the man she loved, pain.

He could have stopped it. He could have left Stephanie. He could have saved them their dignity, their self-respect, and their sanity. He could have spared both of them the worry, the pain, the sneaking, the lying, the betrayal, the self-loathing, the bitterness and the shame. What upset her mainly though was that he could have spared their friendship, because now it lay in ruins just like their lives. Yet she could never forget their friendship, because a friend who has risked his life for you and a friend you have risked your life for is a precious thing. Consequently, and because she was loved him, she could never deny him all of her, her body, her mind and her soul.

***

She watched her best friend as he paced across her living room. He looked distraught and she knew he’d finally broken down. The reality of the situation had at last penetrated his mind.
“Please sit down, Robert, before you trip and crack your head open on my floor. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you I don’t have time to go around cleaning up blood and disposing of bodies,” she said hoping she’d at least get a smile from him. So of course he looked at her solemnly and sat next to her on the couch. “Talk to me. I’m your friend and I’ll do anything to help you.”

“Please, Chloe, help me. I feel so hurt and she’s acting like nothing happened. I can’t sleep and I think I hate her,” he said his voice sounding raw.

He looked so sorry at that moment, like he needed a hug, so she gave him one and wished with all her might she could stop him from hurting. They were both sitting on the couch embracing as if holding on for dear life. She lifted her face to look at him while he looked down to do the same. Their lips met and they were lost. He because of his need for comfort, for a sign that not all was paint and she because of her need to give him the comfort and reassurances he so desperately needed.

He carried her to the bedroom where they both undressed each other desperately while they kissed. They had sex hard and fast. When they were done and the haze of sexual satisfaction had cleared from his mind, he looked at her, splayed on the bed, and whispered, “Oh, my God. What have I done?”

She watched as he got dressed quicker than ice cream melts in the summer and followed him to the living room. As soon as he got to the front door she told him she loved him and watched with tears in her eyes as he froze for a moment and proceeded to slam the door behind him as he left her apartment.

***

She would have forgiven that one time since it had been both their faults but he’d kept on doing it deliberately. He followed her to her apartment sometimes after they both worked late and they had sex on the bed. They never talked except for the declaration of her love right before he left. He hated her now, she could tell. He hated her because she loved him and would never say no. He hated her because her love for him was her reason and his only reason was self-destruction. It wasn’t only his fault though it was her fault too. She should say no to him, but her heart prevented her even if by doing so it managed to destroy her mind and her soul. Things could have been resolved after that first time but Robert had given up and now, unless something drastic was done, they would never stop. The path they were on was suicidal at best and if they didn’t stop they would lose the tenuous hold they had on their sanity.

Their lives were in shambles. She was, against her better judgment, sleeping with her friend and colleague, a married man who also happened to hate her for the fact that she loved him; and he was cheating on his wife with his friend, whom he happened to be taking advantage of. It was their own private hell: betraying the person you most trusted and not being to stop yourself not to mention being hurt by the person you most loved in this world because you just couldn’t refuse. They were both bitter and practically drowning in self-loathing. She hated what they’d become, both addicts of their respective vices: sadism and masochism. There was no love in their couplings and there never had been. He was taking her body against her will, though she couldn’t bring herself to stop him, and he knew it. She knew he wanted to stop as did she. They would never stop… unless she did something about it. A smile curved her lips as the prospect of freedom settled in her mind. Her smile broadened. She would do something about it.
***

Chloe waited in her living for Robert to arrive. She’d seen his car behind her. Where was he? At that moment her door opened and she watched as he locked it behind him. Indeed she was going to do something about it. She held the gun in both her hands, her finger on the trigger, and pointed it at his chest. For a moment his eyes widened and then his whole body sagged with relief.

“Thank you, short stuff,” he said softly with a faint smile on his lips.

The tears slid rapidly down her cheeks as she remembered a time when she could hear his private nickname for her every day and frown with irritation at his attachment to it. She shot him as the tears kept falling and her heart finished breaking. She looked down at his unmoving body on the floor and sobbed and shuddered with every breath she took.

“You’re welcome, big head,” she whispered as she pressed the hot metal of the gun to her temple and pulled the trigger.


*The End*