My name is Hayley, and this is my first time ever writing erotica, so please be gentle with me! But please, please, PLEASE leave comments/constructive criticism!! This is the second chapter in a series, and I suggest that you read the first chapter; otherwise this may not make a ton of sense! I really hope that you like it!! Thanks for reading!! <3
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The Anniversary Dinner
6:45
7:01
7:38.
8:14
9:02
9:42
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
I had to keep telling myself as I paced through our dining room, for what seemed like the millionth time that night. My lower lip was practically bleeding; I'd been biting it so hard, trying to keep myself from crying. And yet my eyes betrayed me, and filled up with tears anyway. He'd forgotten.
I'd been so excited for the past few days. This was all I could think about. The box had been sitting like a ticking bomb in the trunk of my car, and it was all I could do not to take it out and show it to him early. But no, I'd been patient. And here we were, the night of our anniversary. We'd said that dinner would be at 6:30. He wanted to go out, but since I had my little surprise, I thought it best that we stay in. I'd skipped work today, and spent the entire day cooking his favorite meal β tenderloin with this special sauce recipe that I got from his mom, mashed potatoes, and a colorful medley of vegetables. I'd even made home baked bread, and a peach cobbler, his favorite, for dessert. I'd bought a bottle of Dom Perignon. The night was supposed to be perfect. I'd set out our wedding china, the crystal glasses that we'd gotten, and the silverware that had been passed down to be from my great grandmother.
I'd filled the dining room with candles, dimmed the lights, put his favorite music on quietly in the background, and then gone to wait. And that's what I'd been doing. For the past three plus hours. It was customary for Brad to be late. I expected that from him. Hell, I even started dinner fifteen minutes late so that I would allow him extra time to get home, and it would be ready when he got here. But three hours? Really? I stopped pacing and sat down, exasperated, in one of the chairs, and took a shaky breath.
This was stupid. I was doing all of this work for something that was such a lost cause. I looked down at myself and laughed, shaking my head. God, I looked like such a pathetic slut. I was wearing a dress that was practically lingerie. Sure, it was Dior, and not like I'd gotten it from some trashy sex store, but that didn't change the fact that I was barely clothed.
I looked ridiculous. This wasn't me. I kicked off the hooker heels that I'd put on, practically hurling them across the room. They were about five inches high, black and strappy, and the most painful things that I'd ever put on my feet. But they were hot. And that's why I'd even bothered. At that I laughed out loud. All of this, for what? To be stood up, at my own house. On my anniversary. What a waste of a blowout, mani/pedi and Brazilian.
10:09
10:33
11:16
I stood up, closed my eyes for a moment, and finally began clearing the table. This night was over. I was a fool for suddenly thinking that just because it was this a special day of the year our entire relationship would be different. Nothing was different except for us. We weren't the same couple we used to be. And at that, my eyes filled with tears all over again. This time I didn't even try to stop them. What was the damned point? My marriage was over. I think I'm allowed a few tears.
And of course, at that moment, the door swung open, and my husband walked in like nothing had happened. He just stopped and stared at me, as if trying to figure out what exactly what was going on. I was quite sure how to read the look on his face. Part lust, I could tell, because let's face it; I was a fucking knock out in this dress. My little body was poured into this thing. I'm tiny, being only 5'3'', but a bit curvy, with size 36DD breasts and a 28 inch waist. And this dress emphasized everything I was proud of. So yeah, I could see how he could be staring because of the dress. But somehow, I didn't think that was the entire reason. At least I hoped to God it wasn't.
Probably had something to do with the fact that I had mascara running down my face, and was still crying. I wasn't going to pull myself together. Not this time. Normally, at least in the past few months, when Bradley had come in, and I'd been upset, I'd gotten myself together quickly, not wanting him to be bothered. But not this time. The bastard should feel bad.
"Oh, Nicole." His voice came out as just a whisper. He pulled out his blackberry, looking at the time, obviously just thinking I was upset that he was home late once again. And then there it was. His face crumpled. He must have seen the date. He looked almost broken. I would have felt bad for him, had I not been so upset. There it was. He was realizing. "Oh Nikki. Oh my God. Oh my God."
With that I just shook my head and began down the narrow hallway leading towards our master bedroom. Yeah, let him feel bad about it. "Your dinner is in the fridge if you're hungry. I made your favorites", I mumbled, unsure if he could hear me. I didn't care.
This was kind of a surprising reaction from me, to be honest. I'd spent all night wishing he was home, and now here he was, and all I wanted was to be alone. I moved quickly through our bedroom, unzipping my dress along the way, until I was stripped down to just my barely there lacy black panties and bra. I went into our oversized bathroom, and shut and locked the door behind me, the proceeded to collapse against it. It was only then that I truly let myself go. I put my head in my hands, and I simply sobbed.