Ambrosia

4

I'm in my office when midnight arrives. I had written so many different things and collected prizes over the years, and they were all there : dusty, hidden in the only place I could call mine in this house of hell. The Pulitzer, the Goncourt (twice). All of this glory, all of this money to find myself being the housewife of a maybe-someday-politician. It does not sit right with me. I have a deadline in two weeks and all I have is 200 pages, and 100 pages of crap. At least that's what my agent says.

Light footsteps approaching the door, and I'm tense in my chair with my laptop in front of me, studded with words I barely understand myself. A light knock on the door - that's how she is with me, light - and the doorknob turns. I find my wife in one of my shirts, her long curly hair in a mess, her brown flesh so appetizing at this hour of the night. She opens her wide eyes like she's asking for the permission to enter the premises. No officer you don't have a warrant, you lost it when you collapsed after a barbecue.

I smile, a bittersweet smile, and reach for her hand from behind my desk. Like a child she runs up to me and takes place on my lap. Earlier I said I didn't love her anymore. Now I don't know what I feel. Love ? Anger ? Sadness ? Yes, that's the one. A deep feeling of sadness, like a dark pit in my stomach and my wife doesn't suspect anything. I'm drowning in my own bile for this woman and she doesn't even notice. She just lightly presses her cheek onto mine and the warmth of her body relaxes me. She sighs like she had a good day - a wonderful day. And she whispers in my hear how I missed all the fun at the reception, how the mayor's wife was sooo disappointed that i couldn't come. Frankly I just think this woman has a crush on me. Because I'm younger, prettier, than all of the old cows the husbands own. She's not bad looking herself, sometimes I want to press her little body up against the wall ad see what she would do. Dare to kiss me ? Dare to slap me ? But I don't sleep with white women. On campus i did it once.... HUGE mistake. She wanted so bad to go to the zoo and see the baboons because they have kind eyes and « they look so much like you baby ». Hard lesson, and as I said HUGE mistake.

As Rebecca is talking i feel the warmth of her pussy on my thigh, the humidity between her legs and something good churns in my stomach. Maybe I love her, maybe I don't, but I desire her. The fact that I love older women is not even a factor. Physically she is perfect, like a doll that doesn't age. Always smooth skin, never a pimple, never something that could alternate the ravishing beauty she is.

I open a bottle of scotch, fresh from my drawer and pour myself a glass.

- I want one of those too, Rebecca says , with this irritating little voice she makes when she wants something from me. You're not a fucking baby you're a grown woman.

- Haven't you had enough at your... barbecue thing ? You almost puked in my car. I'm not letting you near alcohol again tonight.

She rolls her eyes. Go ahead honey, i know you are all bark and no bite. I savour half of the glass when my body starts to feel warm. And now I'm looking directly between Beck's legs. I want to put my fingers inside her and fuck her in my office, on my desk, according to my terms this time.

- I swear to you the polls are off the charts ! For a married black lesbian my age, I'm doing pretty good. White guilt is sometimes good.

I was half listening to what she said.

- Yes honey. Now please, strip off your clothes, I murmured in her hear.

She looks at me with a devilish grin and peels off my shirt the only barrier between my skin on hers. I let my fingers run on her body. Her chest, her breasts, her nipples so hard that they could pierce ice. Her belly, down her back, on her ass sitting on me. I can't take it anymore. I remove carefully my laptop from the desk - if it were a movie, i would have cleared the table in seconds throwing everything on the ground, but this isn't a movie, it's a 1300$ laptop.

I tell her I want her, she says she wants me to, she continues to rub her pussy on my thigh, getting me wetter and wetter. I can feel my underwear suffering. Finally I tell her to lie on the table. She does so, opening her legs right in front of my face, daring me to go down on her. And I do. I taste the sweetness and the bitterness of her cunt, I am drowning in her vanilla scent. I lick up and down, playing with her clitoris making her beg for more.

- I want you inside, she says out of breath.

I shove two fingers up her pussy and she screams with pleasure. It's a matter of minutes : she groans, she screams, she moans, and she cums, knees trembling, her whole body  weakened by pleasure. And just like that I am satisfied.

Have tou ever made a woman orgasm ? Do you know the feeling of power you have when you give someone this much pleasure ? It's almost as beautiful and soul wrecking than torturing someone... not that I know what that feels like...

She gets off my desk, and puts her shirt back on. My eyes are now wandering around, like I'm thinking of something tiresome.

- Goodnight baby, I say, hoping she takes the hint and goes back to bed. But that's not Becks

- I want to fuck you too... we can do this all night... I miss you.

- I have a deadline and I need to work.

- Can I stay a bit in your office ? I'll be quiet as a cat.

I don't answer, going back for the bourbon. She's never quiet. In fact she just talks all day reciting anything mildly interesting that happened to her or that she read. Like a Gemini.

- Go back to bed Becks, I'm working, you're distracting me. I get that your work is getting drunk at fancy parties but I'm trying to create something here. It's important to me.

- So I am less important than your books and articles and shit ?

- When the fuck did I say that ? Don't forget that you use my prize money to buy designer bags and you're almost thirty years older than me.

- Fuck you Ambrosia, that is repugnant.

She storms out of the room. The lingering smell of sex makes me want to puke. I do not know if I love Rebecca but I have feelings for her. And eight now, those are feelings of hatred.