Not really a romance, but something along the lines of a women's magazine.
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"So" Carl says, "How come a sex-kitten like you finds herself lying next to a despicable fiend like me on a second, successive Sunday night?"
My entire body thrums with the after effects of his rampant errection. My thighs ache. My breasts rise and fall in time with my lungs. The air is redolent of magnificent sex.
I merely sigh. It seems like answer enough.
I've never allowed myself to be so coerced, so....controlled. I hate to admit it, but I could see myself falling for Carl. It scares me.
Then Gerald flits into my head, "You're not married are you, Carl?" I blurt.
He chuckles, "Hell no!"
Carl shakes his head, lightly strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, "No."
"You want to talk about it?"
"There's obviously something, or should I say someone on your mind. Why else would you ask me that?"
So I tell him all about Gerald. Of course, I can't tell him that the only reason I hate the depot darling is because I know that I could never prise him away from his wife and their "open relationship"; that I'm actually jealous that they can both enjoy that kind of freedom.
Instead I stick with my company line; how he misled me, how he used me, how I could never be the other woman.
When I get to the part about him "stalking" me Carl's eyes narrow, "Does he get aggressive?"
"No, never. Its just......."
"You feel uncomfortable?"
I don't, just irritated, but I nod anyway. I'm enjoying Carl's chivalry.
"So, from what you've told me he's the carnivorous, macho-type?" I nod, "Okay" he says, "start a rumour that he's gay. If its convincing enough the gossip will catch fire and he's history."
I smile, considering Carl's proposal, until he gently eases himself on top of me again. I gasp, my thighs holding him tightly, instinctively. And all thoughts of Gerald melt away.