Shadowed Deceit

"And I still think you're the greatest, Dan. You knock my socks off."

Sandra cooed the words into the ear of her three-year lover as she smoothed a hand over his left cheek down to the jut of his chin. It was a caress. Then with an offhanded turn, she waltzed to the door, flung it open with a definitive turn of the knob, then swished a nonchalant exit through the door. The atypical dramatic exit was preceded by a flirting, blown kiss.

Dan stood transfixed, as always. His robe, only half pulled over one shoulder, slipped to the floor, its necessity obviated.

The woman's an amazing lover, multi-talented, definite genius in everything, and one of the best looking I've ever seen. I give her my all and she barely gives me the time of day. Now she's swished out the door until the next time she wants to stud me.

Dan walked to the liquor closet, trying desperately to suppress the blood that rushed to his lower extremities.

Poor devil. It doesn't even know that the real relief is gone for another three weeks and my brain still has making her hum like a cello as its prime directive.

He poured a whiskey into a tumbler and drank with a gulp.

That ought to get those guys subdued in a few.

He poured another and repeated what had become a ritual after each visit.

I've got to have more of her. I only want her! This is three years and she's still got this affair on her terms. I'm ready to stop being used as the afterthought and used as the main man. Where could she be getting the fill ins? No matter what the treat provided, it just isn't enough to get her to stick around.

Dan returned to the dimly-light bedroom. He surveyed the rumpled sheets nearly torn off the mattress, the blankets that now formed a floor border at the foot of the bed. He remembered that last thrust and the shudder that had rippled through both of them as though they were sewn together with a unifying thread. He heard her sigh and her low, rapid breathing as they both relaxed from the union. His blood rushed again as he mentally replayed the earlier experiences. Each one was different, each exquisite in its own way.

I've got to have her. It's no good this way. She may be playing hard to get or she may be playing me the fool but we're good together in every way. The next time we're together, I'm calling her on this. I'm even willing to beg. God! I want her to be mine!

He gathered a pair of Dockers and a tee-shirt and took them to the bathroom. A shower helped quell the undulating need until it abated. Dried and dressed, he returned to the living room and turned on the television. A few clicks of the remote and he'd landed on his favorite news channel.

So what's been going on in the world while I was caught up in that whirlwind?

A sudden newsflash logo appeared on the screen. There was an image of a distraught man in the background - Sandra's boss, George. George was the reason Dan and Sandra had met in the first place. Their companies had been negotiating a business partnership four years ago. Dan found the pair of them formidable negotiators but even more lucrative as partners. The deal went well. The profits from it, and increased sales, said so. Curiosity piqued, Dan rapidly clicked the volume so that he could hear the details that went with the images on the screen.

"Still on the 45^th floor of the Global Towers Building, we just learned the name of the victim. Sandra Benoit, Chief Operating Officer of BetaMax IT Services, 35 years old, lives alone. She has no next of kin. We have George Macklin, CEO of BetaMax, who witnessed the jump. Mr. Macklin, if you can, please tell us something about Ms. Benoit?"

"I I I still don't know what to say," a 45-ish man stammered in flat tones, "She always seemed so self-assured and in charge. She had everywhere to go. To watch her step off of the ledge like that and simply allow herself to plummet. I I I .... " The man dissolved in hiccupped sobs.