A Famous Affair

by K. B. Mallion

  I try to pull him towards me but Jonny is reluctant. “Jessica, as much as I am dying to have you right now . . . we can’t in here, okay?” He says, looking at me seriously.

  “Why not in here?” I ask in a sulky tone. I want him so bad!

  “There are cameras everywhere, even in here!”

  Although I know he is right, I can’t help but feel rejected. I stand here feeling like I have done wrong by touching him. The doors open to the third floor and we step out. He taps on the door and it opens. Beef is there, watching a film of some kind as the telly is on loudly with the sound of screeching cars and gunfire.

  The room is certainly grand. Everything is big: the sofas, the bed, the television. There are huge patio windows, which open out onto an outside decking area with contemporary outdoor furniture and exotic looking plants. The main room has warm cream walls and the furnishings are modern by design using the vibrant colours of jade and chocolate brown.

  “Beef . . . you’ve met Jessica before,” Jonny says.

  Beef nods, smiling faintly then returns to watching his testosterone-fuelled film. I start to feel uncomfortable, and unwelcome. Jonny takes my hand, leading me to a door on the right side of the room.

  I quizzically look at him. “This is my room.” I almost sigh out loud with relief at his words.

  His room is dimly lit and quiet. It is the same sumptuous design in this room but somehow it seems much more comfortable and relaxing in here. Maybe that is because Beef is the one who makes me feel so uncomfortable. He just looked at me, like I was a nobody to him. That really makes me wonder whether he sees women being brought back by Jonny, all the time. He has just become so immune to the amount of women that briefly cross his path; he simply can’t be bothered to be polite to them.

  “Come here, Jessica.” Jonny holds his hand out. I reluctantly walk towards him. “Now where were we?” He tries to kiss me but I turn my head. “What’s wrong?” he quietly asks.

  “Do you do this sort of thing all the time?” I sullenly ask.

  His brows pull together. “What sort of thing?”

  “Bringing women back to your hotel room?” He laughs. I am trying to gauge whether that’s because I am bang on or he is shocked by my question. “I only ask because Beef just looked at me like I was nothing . . . like this shit happens all the time. He was barely able to speak to me,” I say, trying to explain my reasons for thinking the way that I do.

  Jonny crosses his arms. “Beef is a man of few words, Jessica. And no, I don’t do this sort of shit all the time.” I detect a cross tone in his voice.

  Annoyed by his response, I defensively cross my arms, too. “Well, I am sorry if I’m just a little edgy. One minute we are close to fucking, the next you don’t want me to touch you,” I remind him.

  “Are you talking about in the lift? It’s just the way it is, Jessica. My private life is just that . . . private. Believe me, it is as much for your sake, as it is mine. You are married, remember?” His words are like an awakening slap around my face. I look at him, fighting back my tears, which dare to fill my eyes.

  “How fucking dare you? I can’t believe you have just said that to me. I am fully aware of the fact that I am married; thank you very much. Do you know what? This is a mistake, I am leaving right now,” I spit my words out at him but as I turn he grabs my wrist.

  “I’m sorry, it wasn’t meant to come out that way. What I am trying to say is, I have always liked my life to be private. There are people who will do just about anything to get the next big story. I am just trying to protect you, and me.” He has hold of both my shoulders now, his face etched with growing concern.

  “That’s the thing, though. I am already feeling like a dirty little secret, sneaking around, telling lies. I just can’t do it. I know there are many women out there who would love that famous dick of yours, but I can’t do it. Like you so kindly pointed out to me, I am married,” I throw my words at Jonny.

  With his head low, his voice even lower, he turns to me. “Not long ago I had my mouth and hands all over you, what has changed?” Jonny questions.

  “I have realised that this is madness. It’s a mistake,” I say flatly.

  “That is what you honestly think?” he asks.

  “Yes, it is.” I see the hurt in his eyes, following my reply. It makes my heart heavy with remorse, but I know I am doing the right thing. Do I really want a one-night stand with Jonny Riley? It’s not like I could ever brag about it to anyone. I am a mother and I have a husband. What the hell was I about to do? The shame suddenly descends upon me and I hate myself for what I have done and was about to do. Not once did I think of Shawn or the girls. It was selfish magnetism between Jonny Riley and myself, that was the driving force behind my not giving anyone else a second thought. I need to get away from this room, and more importantly, away from him.

  I quickly head for the door. This time Jonny Riley lets me leave; no words are exchanged, no lingering looks . . . nothing. I don’t even spare a glance at Beef as I hurriedly leave the room. I just want to get home.

  The journey back home seems to take forever. Usually I enjoy looking at the scenery that we pass on the train: the fields, the buildings and the animals in the fields. It is usually a calming way to pass the time, but today I am anything but calm. I am confused, upset, and emotional over what has happened in the past twenty-four hours. I keep telling myself I will feel better, once I am home, but I am still so knotted up with feelings that I don’t yet understand. I didn’t even want to discuss it with Lydia earlier, as she was so looking forward to her day out with Jake Carter. Besides, I am still very much in a state of denial. I cannot even bring myself to mention Jonny Riley’s name, as it brings on an intense feeling of shame. How will I ever be able to look at Shawn? Will he smell the pungent guilt that I carry around with me?

  As the taxi pulls up to my house, I breathe a sigh of relief. The red-bricked stone and azalea shrubs are a comforting welcome sight. Butterflies flutter around in the pit of my stomach as I open the front door. “Hello, I’m home,” I call out, trying to not sound any different than normal.

  I hear music playing from one of the girls’ rooms and I smell bacon in the air. The house is neat and tidy and just so . . . normal.

  “Hey, you’re back.” Shawn greets me with a familiar kiss, cuddling me tightly in his arms. I stand there feeling relieved that it still feels good to be held by him. “So, how did it go?” Shawn asks, letting go so he can look at me.

  My guilt-ridden lashes lift with eyes that hide the truth. “Really well. We made loads of new contacts, and we met two new companies which sell some really unique toys.” I reply, without my nerves making an unwelcome appearance.

  “So, the convention was a success then?” he asks.

  “Yes, it was. We went to watch Wicked too, which was amazing.” Shawn grabs my hand, pulling me into his chest.

  “So when can we get wicked?” His eyes look me up and down, as though they are undressing me layer by layer.

  “Easy, Tiger, all in good time,” I say with a dismissive pat to his chest. I then gently kiss the tip of his nose, in the hope it will appease his flirtatious question. “I’m going upstairs to see the girls and sort out my bag, okay?”

  “Okay, Babes, what do you want to do later, then? Are we going out or staying in?” he asks.

  “I’m knackered Shawn, shall we just get a DVD and takeaway?” I ask, hoping the answer is yes.

  “Sounds good to me,” Shawn says.

  “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” I walk away, feeling exhausted from trying to be myself. The truth is, I don’t feel like myself at all. There is an inner conflict going on within me. I don’t know what I can do to stop it. Part of me wants to run away and hide but the other part is telling me to stop being a pathetic cow and get my act together.

  I see the girls’ bedroom doors are ajar. I go to Lissy’s room first, tapping gently before walking in.

  “Hi, Lissy, you okay?”

&nb
sp; She looks up, surprised to see me. “Hey, Mum, yeah I’m good. How was London?”

  “Good, thanks.” I sit down on the pastel patchwork quilt on her bed, looking at her sweet face. “I would really like to take you to London soon, Lissy. You will love the shopping and Lydia and I have found a great little sushi bar,” I tell her enthusiastically.

  “That sounds fab, Mum. So, did you see anyone famous then? Ashley’s grandma lives in London and they say they see famous people all the time.” My mind trails off to thoughts of Jonny Riley, his hands all over me. I can even still taste him, if I allow myself to think about him for long enough. I look into my daughter’s sweet innocent face, thinking hard about the question.

  “Nope, your boring old mum didn’t see anyone famous.” I stroke her nose playfully and give her a lingering cuddle.

  “We are having a takeaway later, if you fancy it?” I ask.

  “Like what?”

  I shrug my shoulders with a small grimace. “Not sure yet. Pop down and ask your dad. I’m just popping in to check on your sister now.” Lissy jumps up off her bed. Her slender frame bounces past me and down the stairs. I stand beside Lottie’s door as the sound of The Wanted fills the hallway.

  I knock, peeping around the door. “Hi Lottie, just to let you know I am home. How did school go yesterday?”

  Lottie gets off her bed, throwing her dainty little arms around me. “Hi, Mum.” She cuddles me so tight, I hold her back in a guilt-infested hug.

  “It was okay; Mrs. Patterson really liked the self-portrait I did, and wants to use it for her display.”

  “That is fantastic, Lottie. I told you it was brilliant, didn’t I?” I grab her hand, zealously rubbing it.

  “Are we doing anything today, Mum?” she asks.

  “I don’t think so, Love. We are just having a takeaway and DVD later. Why, what did you want to do?” I ask.

  “Nothing, just wondering,” Lottie says, sitting back down on her bed.

  “Okay then, I am going to sort my things out and then we can think about what film we fancy watching later.” I kiss her forehead, ruffling up her hair.

  She jerks away from me, rolling her eyes. “Okay, Mum.”

  “Oh, and Lottie . . . the music, not too loud please?” I try to look stern but soften when she sweetly smiles at me, nodding enthusiastically as she’s lowering the volume.

  I stroll into our bedroom; the smell of my perfume still lingers in the air. The bed is badly made; bed making was never one of Shawn’s strong points, but he tries, bless him. I pick my bag up and remove my things: the programme to Wicked, my toiletry bag, my sassy-ass heels, my 50’s red dress, now all creased and in need of a wash. I have always loved this dress, but now it has significant sentiment attached to it. I hold it up against me; imagining Jonny Riley’s hands all over it, tracing my body with his fingertips. I find the thong I wore the night before. Straight away, there is a traitorous ache between my legs. The same ache I felt when Jonny Riley’s lips were kissing my groin, his darling face nuzzling into my wanting mound. Stop it! Stop it! Fucking stop it!

  I search for my handbag, digging out my mobile phone. I have two messages from Lydia.

  Hi, Jessica, darling, I don’t know what happened last night between you and Mr. Gorgeous, but Jake and I bumped into him in the foyer earlier at The Broadway, he seemed quite down. He asked whether you had left, and he asked me to tell you he is very sorry. I do hope you’re okay, Jess? You were a tad quiet this morning. I will see you next week.

  Love Lydia xxxx

  What the hell? I feel giddily foolish. Sheer excitement courses through my veins, knowing that Jonny Riley has been asking about me. Then inner conflict and Miss Sensible gate crash my party, slapping me hard around my face.

  Jessica Neel, for crying out loud, get your shit together, girl. You turned Jonny Riley down because of that ring upon your finger. Stop fantasising and get back to the real world, which includes Shawn and your girls. It is time to forget about Mr. Gorgeous and bloody move on!

  I read the second message.

  Hi Jessica, just got back to the hotel room and there is a letter here for you, looks like it has been pushed under the door. It’s from Jonny Riley. He has asked that I give it to you ... I will keep it safe until next week.

  Love Lydia xxxx

  I want to scream. What is Jonny Riley trying to do to me? It takes every bit of will power inside of me to stop myself from asking Lydia to read the letter to me. I am trying to place him in a corner of my mind where I can forget about him . . . for just a little while.

  The evening is relaxed and sedate. The girls return to their rooms after the film and the curry that we decided to have.

  I am cuddled up with Shawn. For the first time today, I actually feel calm. There was normality in getting the curry, choosing a film, and sitting together as a family, it was exactly what I needed.

  Shawn’s finger begins to stroke my side. His deliberate strokes then move from my side, navigating under my top to cup my breasts softly. I am unsure of my conflicting feelings, as I have only ever felt intense pleasure from his touch. Tonight it feels different; an unknown and unforgiving feeling. I begin to tense a little, but Shawn takes this as the green light for she’s turned on! He shifts around, kissing me in the crook of my neck. I turn my throat, closing my eyes. He is so breathless and aroused; his waiting erection can be felt through his jeans.

  “Let’s go upstairs, Babe.” He takes my hand and pulls me up. I climb the stairs, with a heavy feeling of hesitation, which I have never felt before. Why the hell am I feeling reluctant to sleep with my own, damn husband? Shawn closes our bedroom door and puts the lock on, a clear indication that we are about to have sex.

  “So, this is the “wink wink” you promised me?” His piercing blue eyes bore into me. He undresses me quickly: kissing my naked shoulders, my breasts and my belly. Although I am aroused, I’m not letting go. I close my eyes as his tongue glides across my thigh, making its way back up to my erect nipples. My body is a mass of contradictions. It is being teased and aroused by my loving, horny husband, but with my eyes shut tight . . . I only see the face of Jonny Riley. Fuck!

  Shawn pushes me onto the bed. He starts to undress himself as I watch with trepidation. He has this dark hunger in his eyes; I am desperately trying so hard to feign the very same look. So this is what it means to fake it? My inner actress strokes Shawn’s chest as he lowers himself onto me. I start kissing his athletic chest and neck, teasing licks of desire trace along his upper torso. Shawn’s hand reaches down between my legs, applying pressure. He massages my clit into submission to get me wet and ready. His throbbing cock waits for my hand. I slowly squeeze, rhythmically moving up and down his bulging length. Shawn deeply groans with satisfaction.

  “Oh, you are so good at that Babe,” he utters as I work my hands on him.

  I pick up the pace and feel Shawn’s ass cheeks clenching. His breathing becomes heavy and laboured. He slides my ass into position on the bed, lifting my legs high and placing them each side of his neck. He penetrates me. With short, tempting, little thrusts he pulls in and out, then a long deep thrust. His spearing member continues to pump my sex until I cry out as I reach my forced orgasm. Now that I have climaxed, Shawn thrusts hard, deep, and quick. Beads of sweat form on his brow as his face contorts with pleasure.

  “I’m coming, Babe.” His throbbing dick doesn’t waste time exploding inside of me, followed by a succession of pulsating spasms. His horniness is now fully satisfied. I lie there happy that my husband is content with his shag, but discontent with mine. I am concerned that making love to Shawn feels different, alien almost.

  Had Jonny bloody Riley really affected me that much? Can I no longer fuck my husband without thinking about him?

  “You okay, Jess?” Shawn asks quietly.

  “Yeah . . . why?”

  “I don’t know . . . you seemed tense, not your usual self. That’s all.” Shit! Shit! Even Shawn notices, maybe I am not such a great
actress after all?

  “I don’t feel 100% actually, maybe I am coming down with something.” Way to go Jessica, the lying has already begun.

  “You should have told me Babe, I never would have tried it on if I had known,” Shawn says. The expression of concern on his face hits me hard in the gut, with repetitive guilt-ridden punches.

  “No . . . no . . . It’s fine, I wanted to make love to you tonight.” Yet, more lies, Jessica Neel.

  “Come here, let me hold you. I missed you last night, you know?” Shawn pulls me into his bare chest, holding me tight. I feel a lump forming in my throat as the need to cry increases. Don’t you dare fucking cry! For as much as I love this man, who I would never willingly hurt, I now realise the damage has, indeed, already been done. I have been touched by another man, who has awakened dormant senses within me. He has left an invisible inscription upon my heavy heart. I now know that as much as I want to deny, it or run away from it; I am already and ashamedly beginning to have feelings for Jonny Riley.

  The weekend passes in a blur. I look forward to returning to work. I can’t wait to find out what is in the letter; as it is all I keep bloody thinking about.

  Our workplace is a little office within a big building of other offices. Lydia rents the chic little space. It is small containing: two desks, a comfy leather two-seater black sofa, a small walnut table, a water cooler, and a couple of bonsai trees. Apparently, they add a more naturalistic look to the Egyptian cotton coloured walls, according to Lydia that is.

  As small as our office is, we both really do love it here.

  “Morning Lydia, did you enjoy the rest of your weekend?” I breezily walk in.

  “Oh, Jessica, I have been worried so about you.” Lydia hugs me.

  I am pulling my coat off my shoulders. “Why? I’m okay, honestly. How did your day go with Jake?” I am trying to not come across as too desperate to ask about the letter, just yet. A polite little chat shall curb my need to ask for it straightaway.