What They Call Sin

by Philippa Grey-Gerou

  "Does Diana ever get up on stage with you?” Rogue heard Lindy ask.

  Mercedes shook her head, her mouth full of food. “Too shy,” she said, swallowing. “I've talked her into singing backup on a couple of recordings, but beyond that, no luck."

  "You sing?” Lindy turned to Diana.

  Diana shrugged, so Rogue intervened. “She sings like a dream, if you get enough drinks into her."

  Diana blushed. “I don't think karaoke night at Columbia Pub provides a good demonstration of my abilities."

  He scoffed. “You outsung everyone there that night, even with half a bottle of vodka in you."

  She gave him a dirty look. “Keep that up, and I may have to bring up some of your attempts at public performance."

  He was horrified. “You wouldn't."

  She raised her eyebrows at him, then turned to Lindy. “Our second year at Columbia, he developed a crush on this English major..."

  "Diana,” he growled a warning.

  But Lindy was enjoying it too much. “Go on."

  With a wicked grin at Rogue, Diana continued. “He found out she liked to go to poetry slams at one of the coffee houses in the Village. So he spent weeks working on a poem for her. He almost failed International Moot Court because he was working on this poem instead of preparing his case."

  "Bloody sonnets don't come easy,” he protested, surrendering to the inevitability of the story.

  "So we get down there, and it's all dark goth, pain is my co-pilot free verse trash, and here he's got this elegant, romantic and very precise poem. But he did it. Got up there and read it. It got so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop. He then got down off the stage, grabbed his coat and walked out without another word. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought he was making a statement against the quality of work being performed there."

  Lindy covered her mouth with her napkin, her eyes showing equal parts amusement and sympathetic mortification. “What happened then? What about the girl?"

  He snorted. “She was in the back, makin’ out with one of the waiters. Which was why she came. Not for the poetry. She never even knew I was there."

  "Oh, that's terrible!” But he could still hear the amusement in her voice.

  Somehow, it didn't bother him.

  As they finished eating, Diana rose from the table. “Rogue, will you help me clear?"

  Lindy rose to assist. “Let me."

  "Absolutely not,” Diana insisted. “You are our guest. Rogue, on the other hand, is family and has to help out.” She handed him several plates with a smile.

  "Yes, mum,” he sighed melodramatically, taking the plates from her. As he rose, he kissed Lindy, enjoying the taste of spice on her lips. “You rest easy. I've got this.” Mercedes got up as well to lead her into the living room while he and Diana quickly emptied the table.

  As he scraped the dishes and stacked them neatly on the sideboard, Diana opened a small bakery box and began placing diamond wedges of baklava on dessert plates, one by one putting them in the microwave to warm. “What you are doing is wrong,” she said suddenly.

  He spooned the remains of the salads into small storage bowls. “I'm not doing anything."

  "Rogue, you told me what you were planning before you even came over here. I know that's her. His wife. And it's just not right to treat someone like that."

  "Didn't we have this argument already at the gallery?"

  "We barely started this argument."

  "Diana, I'm not doing anything,” he insisted. “Not anymore."

  "She's too nice a girl for you to use this way."

  He threw up his hands. “What do I have to do to convince you? I love her! I'm not going to hurt her!” He realized what he had confessed as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He sighed, rolling his head back. “Bugger."

  Her soft eyes widened, and she quickly turned back to concentrate on scooping ice cream onto the plates with the warm pastry. “How long?” she finally asked.

  He snorted. “Who knows? A week ago? Two? The minute I saw her?” He put the containers in the fridge and began getting coffee cups down. “It's been a while since all I cared about was her bein’ happy."

  "But you leave at the end of the week."

  "I know! I know,” he lowered his voice. “And the worst part is that her husband knows."

  "Oh, Rogue! Does she know?"

  He shook his head. “I tell her and I lose her. Of course, if I don't tell her, I lose her anyway.” He filled the coffee cups methodically. “God, Diana, how did this get so far out of control?"

  She leaned against the counter, sympathy written on her face. “You want the magical answer or the mundane?"

  He rolled his eyes.

  "Okay, the mundane. And that one's simple. You are a brilliant man, and one of the best judges of people I know. You can break any situation into its component parts and understand the dynamics of each piece perfectly. But you live totally in the moment. You have no head whatsoever for the long term. That's why all your plans blow up in your face."

  "Thanks. I feel real comforted."

  "Rogue.” She laid a hand on his arm. “You started this relationship in deceit and revenge. Those are the seeds you planted and that's the harvest you are forced to reap. The love is just ... fortuitous weeds among the crop."

  "That's the metaphysical answer, innit?"

  She smiled. “Partly. You didn't really think you'd get away without it?"

  He met her eyes, letting his vulnerability show. “What do I do?"

  She shrugged. “You're the only one who can decide that."

  They were both quiet, ice cream melting and coffee cooling.

  Finally he spoke. “Thanks for tonight. It was nice to get to feel like a normal couple for a little while."

  She smiled. “Does this mean I get to tell the Anatomical Drawing class story?” she asked, handing him the dessert tray.

  "You wouldn't."

  "Oh, I so would..."

  Chapter 31

  Lindy went to sleep curled up against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as it slowed from the pounding pace of their lovemaking to the easy, constant rhythm of sleep.

  She woke in the warm cocoon of his arms, his body spooned up along her back, his hands moving in lazy patterns over her stomach and breasts and thighs. She sighed happily and cuddled back against him more closely.

  "Good morning.” His low words vibrated in her ear and along her spine as his hands continued moving gently.

  "Mmm. It's good so far. Maybe if we just don't move, it'll stay that way."

  He chuckled softly. “Don't move at all?” he asked, the motion of speaking caressing his lips lightly along the sensitive skin behind her ear. His hand slid down to caress the barest inside of her thigh, making her gasp and push back against him. “Or is some movement allowed?"

  "Some is good. Some is definitely better ... than ... none oh!” He tangled her top leg in his, pulling it back to spread her thighs and allow him to trail his fingertips over the sensitive skin high on the inside of her legs.

  "So you like that?” he mouthed against the curve of her throat. “What about ... this?” His fingers walked lightly along the crease where leg met hip, then through the tangle of soft curls to the junction on the other side.

  His slow, playful sensuality overwhelmed her mind as well as her body. Her world collapsed to the warmth of his mouth on her neck and shoulder, the velvety prod of his erection against the small of her back, and the unremitting swirl of his fingers in and around her labia. She couldn't breathe, gasping as he explored her, murmuring soft encouragement as he built her climax step by step.

  "I love the way you feel when I push into you after you've come.” The pure eroticism of his words pushed her along as much as his two fingers slipping inside her, leaving his thumb to continue toying with her clitoris. “All tight and fluttery. Won't you come for me, Lindy?” He nuzzled at her hair as his hand worked. “I want to be inside you so badly rig
ht now..."

  She clutched at his wrist, holding his hand still as she rode his strong digits eagerly, whimpering his name.

  "Yes, love, that's it. Let me make you feel good. Let your Michael make the whole world go away..."

  Her whimper gained in volume as her release tangled around her, squeezing out breath and sound with each thrust of her hips.

  "Almost there, petal. Just let me...” And he twisted his wrist.

  She screamed, hoarse and ecstatic, as her body exploded, slamming against him and his hand as wave after wave of climax swept over her.

  "That's it, that's my girl.” His voice was thick with want as he rolled her still-vibrating body to face him, dragging her leg up over his hip and continuing over onto his back so that she straddled his waist. She lay on his chest, unable to support herself as she recovered. But she could feel him poking, prodding at the damp flesh of her thighs and sex, seeking entrance. She shifted her hips subtly, catching the head of his shaft just so to let him slip deep within her.

  "Christ, Lindy!” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight to him as he rocked her up and down on his length. She felt him bury his face in her hair as she nestled into his shoulder, enjoying the slow undulation of their bodies.

  They just rocked like that, wrapped in and around each other for what seemed longer than an eternity and shorter than an instant, when she felt him begin to tighten under her. She rose up on her arms, allowing the tips of her breasts to barely touch his chest and her hair to fall around his face as she increased her movements, sliding her channel high along his shaft before taking him back in deeply. His fingers clutched into her hips, encouraging her along, and she watched in fascination as his head tipped back, the tip of his tongue caught lightly between his teeth.

  She was so transfixed by his face that she didn't notice the second orgasm until it seized her, snapping her head back. “Oh! Oh, Michael!"

  "Lindy!” he growled, clutching her hips to his as he jerked erratically up into her in release.

  They collapsed into a sated pile of tangled limbs, catching their breath between satisfied chuckles and contented sighs, sharing soft kisses and gentle touches.

  "That,” Lindy said when she finally regained the power of speech, “was without a doubt the best wake up call I've ever had."

  He smirked against her hair as he ran tender fingers through the tresses. “Beats an alarm clock, does it?"

  "Hands down. I'm awake and relaxed. Perfect way to start the day."

  "Except for being after ten o'clock."

  "Is it really?” She twisted her head to look at the clock. “You know, I used to always be up before seven.” She nestled back into his arms.

  "I know, I'm a bad influence."

  "Mmm. Lucky me."

  He laughed softly. “So, what do you want to do today?"

  "Would you mind if we went down to the studio? I want to get a start on that painting of the kids, so I can have it done for Christmas."

  "Nah, that's fine. I've got some paperwork I was going to put off until Sunday night. I can work while you paint, we can take frequent shag breaks,” he bussed her lightly on her laughing mouth, “and we'll be closer to where I plan to take you out to tonight. You did bring a sexy little number to wear out, didn't you?"

  She smiled up at him. “And a couple of sexy numbers to wear in as well."

  "Oh, pet,” he groaned, rolling on top of her. “Talk like that will guarantee I never let you out of this bed."

  She patted his chest. “Just think of all the fun you'll have getting me back into it."

  * * * *

  After a relaxed, playful and (mostly) platonic shower, they dressed and Lindy returned her toiletries to the black overnight bag. She was surprised and oddly touched when Michael added a shirt and a few other items to the bag as well before shouldering it to escort her downstairs to the lobby and a waiting cab.

  On the drive downtown, Michael had the cabbie pull over and wait with Lindy as he ran into a bakery to grab them breakfast. Moments later, he came back with a white bakery bag and two large, steaming styrofoam cups.

  "Oh, thank goodness!” she said, taking one of the cups from him as he slid back into the cab. “I am so in need of ... wait,” she paused, the cup inches from her face. “This isn't coffee."

  He grinned boyishly at her.

  She sniffed delicately, then peered through the vent into the cup before looking at him incredulously. “You got hot chocolate?"

  "Yup."

  "Why did you get hot chocolate?"

  "Because it goes better with chocolate croissants.” He shook the bag at her temptingly.

  She just shook her head, but couldn't help smiling. “You are such a big kid."

  He leaned forward and kissed her, all lips and tongue and passion. Nope, definitely not a child. But he tasted like warm, rich chocolate already.

  They settled into their respective work at the studio comfortably. As Lindy went around opening radiator valves to take the autumn chill out of the room, Michael set up her easel and stool, then arranged himself on the couch, using one of the armchairs as a footstool. She pulled out her art cart and a clean canvas and began sketching and then painting in the background of the Halloween picture.

  They worked quietly like that for several hours, Lindy with her brushes and paints, Michael with his papers and laptop. She smiled to see the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

  He finally rose and stretched before coming to look at her progress, one hand resting on her shoulder. He didn't comment, simply observed before placing a gentle kiss on her neck that sent electric shivers down her spine. “I'm going to nip out to the deli for some lunch,” he said quietly. “You want anything?"

  She turned to look at him. “A tuna sandwich?” At his nod, she continued. “On wheat with lettuce."

  "Got it. You want any crisps or anything?"

  She nodded. “And a bottle of water. Thanks. Oh!” She fished around in her pocket and handed him the key ring. “So you can let yourself back in."

  He took the keys, catching her hand as well as he bent down to kiss her again, slowly but undemandingly. After a long moment, he released her with a sensual smile. “Back in a bit, love."

  She went back to her work, but a realization slowly started worming its way up through her brain. She stopped in mid-stroke when she suddenly realized what it was.

  He went to get her lunch.

  He didn't ask her to do it. He didn't make her go with him. He didn't just get her whatever he wanted. He asked her, and bothered to remember what she wanted. It was such a little thing. But when was the last time it had happened?

  Maybe not since her mother.

  But what did it mean?

  Michael came back with the sandwiches, interrupting her train of thought. She washed the paint off her hands, and they ate picnic style in the middle of the rugs. A bit of teasing play with a pickle quickly escalated into gentle lovemaking there on the carpet. It was brief but luxurious, and afterwards they lay in each other's arms, drifting quietly in and out of sleep.

  She woke first but lay still, his head nestled at her breast, his strong arm wrapped around her waist, their legs tangled together. Toying gently with the soft curls at the base of his neck, she thought about her earlier epiphany.

  She was suddenly aware of all the attentions he paid her. Not the obvious sexual attention, but the subtle, thoughtful ones. His awareness of her moods. His interest and encouragement of her art. How he respected her wishes, her requests and was never threatened by her.

  He was always saying how he wanted to show her how she should be treated, what she deserved. Was this comfortable domesticity what he had meant?

  That thought scared her.

  She had gotten involved with him to learn about herself, to improve herself for Gabriel. Her sexual skills had certainly improved, but what if it wasn't about that? She was seeing now how an intimate relationship could be. But Michael had treated her like this even when
she had been hopeless in bed. So that meant that the relationship was based, not on the changes in her, but on the character of him.

  Gabriel wasn't Michael.

  He never would be. And she couldn't change him, certainly not against his will. And why would he want to?

  But now that she had seen what was possible, could she be happy going back to the way things were?

  Instead of improving for her marriage, had she ruined herself?

  What did it mean?

  She must have tensed, because Michael looked up at her with sleepy eyes. “You okay, pet?"

  She nodded quickly, then bent her head to kiss him, losing herself in the fullness of his lips.

  He would be gone in a week.

  Meaning would wait until after that.

  Chapter 32

  There was a long line of college students and young professionals waiting outside the club Michael took her to that night.

  "Corpus Delecti?” Lindy asked.

  "Delicious Body. You should fit right in,” Michael teased, guiding her past the line to the bouncer at the door. “Fitzwilliam,” he said to the burly man, nodding to the clipboard. “Your boss is expecting me."

  "Yes sir, Mr. Fitzwilliam. Right this way.” He opened the rope for them and escorted them to the front door.

  The club itself was very techno. Bare steel columns supported catwalks and decks. The stage was backed by a bank of video screens flickering images in time to the rhythm of the live band performing in front of them. The hard edges were softened by cozy conversation nooks furnished in softly upholstered sofas and colorful area rugs. The art on the walls was industrial kitsch. The whole place had the feel of space reclaimed, like all of the people there had brought whatever they could get their hands on to make this place their own. Lindy wasn't a big clubber, but she could tell this place was different. She liked it.

  Michael wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her close amidst the crowd. “Do you want to dance?"