I awake to a shaft of sunlight cutting through the curtains and shifting across my face. For a moment, I am drifting, thinking of all the things I will need to do today, all the errands, and the running around and the faked pleasantries as I plod through the day. I shift on the bed next to you and reality floats back to me like a dream. An air conditioner hums from the wrong location, the air smells different. And it is almost silent, except for your steady breathing.
This is not my bedroom and you are not my husband. It's not even morning. I smile.
I didn't expect to fall asleep. I suppose we both needed it, though, after that first round.
I sit up on the edge of the bed and realize how full my breasts are. Achy and pendulous. I've been away from the baby for too long. I half panic and check my phone. No messages from the sitter, but it's nearly time for school pick up.
Behind me, I hear you roll over toward me. Your large, warm hand runs softly over my back, chasing the anxiety away and triggering a roll of heat around my waist, settling in the low hollow of my belly, molten.
I close my eyes and try to dampen the feeling. "I need to go pick up the boys. We slept." You move closer, wrapping your arms around me and rubbing the stubble on your face into my lower back. I squirm and laugh and try to pull away. "Seriously, though!'
You bite a chunk of my ass as I stand up, and I giggle.
I skip to the bathroom to pee, picking through the trail of clothes on the way. I have no idea where my panties are.
Suddenly your wife's ringtone sounds. Your phone voice is good, convincing. True and perfect. You're just so swamped with work and so exhausted, you're just going to stay in the city at the room you got last night so you don't have to deal with the commute. Three day weekend after that, you'll do something special then, you swear.
The lying at once bothers me and excites me. I wonder how much you lie to me, too, even though you lie for me.
You had to get this room for two nights in order for us to have it around noon. The movies had given me the impression one could get afternoon hotel rooms for lascivious trysts, but turns out that's not a thing here. Maybe we're just bad at this.
I stand, looking at myself in the large mirror over the sink. My tits are tremendous and heavy, the nipples puffed, dark and engorged. I know I'm going to have to relieve them soon before they get painful.
I gently massage both of my nipples to try to get things going, rolling my fingers in a delicate squeeze from the behind the areola. Blobs of yellowish foremilk spring to the surface, swell, and roll down my skin softly.