Burning Bridges

Burning Bridges

By blackrandl1958

Sometimes girls just wanna have fun. Yeah, I stole that. Taking a break from meaningful stories and just writing something fun and fluffy gets you recharged, so that's what this is. If that doesn't sound like your bag, this would be a good time to hit the "back" button. If you continue, I warned you.

I must thank my peeps. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me critical review. My editors and readers are Hale1, SBrooks103x, Cagivagurl and Stev2244. Randi is grateful to you all.

"Don't burn any bridges here, Syn," Jake cautioned me.

I'd been unaware I was even on a bridge, although I had heard such structures do tend to spontaneously combust.

"But why?" I asked. "I always enjoy a good bonfire."

He seemed somewhat nonplussed. Evidently, he had envisioned this conversation going differently. "I'm just saying this could be very good for us," he said.

"Umm... well, I'm not sure what drugs you've been taking, but I'm afraid the bridge is already an inferno," I said.

"Jesus, Synthia, why are you always so hardcore about everything?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm not," I assured him. "There are just some little things I'm hardcore about. Things like not having sexually transmitted diseases, having nasty shit dripping out my vagina, silly little things, I know. There's also the matter of stabbing me in the back, disloyalty, you know: fucking a stripper, shit like that."

"We used condoms, for Christ's sake," he said.

"So you say," I mentioned. "Of course, you've lied so many times over the last three weeks that I have a bit of difficulty trusting your veracity on anything."

"I'm not lying," he insisted.

"Well, that's very considerate of you." I complimented him. "You might also remember there are a couple of other little things; you know, Rice and Shey."

"What about them?" he said.

"Well, I know you hardly ever see them, but somehow, I believe our children are going to think it's weird that you don't live here anymore."

"What? I'm not going anywhere," he protested.

"Keep believing that," I advised him.

"Syn, just think about it," he was whining now. It wasn't attractive.

"Think about what?" I asked.

"Well, look at you," he began. "Do you imagine that you'd have any trouble finding partners?"

"I thought I had a partner," I said. "I was, evidently, mistaken."

"No, you weren't," he said. "I just... Jesus, Syn, it's just... fuck! Lots of people play on the side, you know that. It doesn't hurt anyone, it's just a thing."

"That may well be true," I said. "Ask me if I give a fuck about what 'lots of people' do."

He made a bitter little snort. "No need. You've never cared about what anyone else thinks."

"True that. So, when you think you might wanna be moving out?"

"I'm not," he said. "I own this house as much as you do."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure I'll be the custodial parent, since you really do very little with the girls, and I think they'll want to live with me, anyway, don't you? The courts seem to favor the custodial parent in these matters. Just mentioning."

"No doubt, but it doesn't have to be this way," he complained. There was that whine again. "Syn, we can open up our marriage, be happy."

"No, 'we' aren't doing shit," I said. "You can do whatever you please, after the divorce. What did you think was going to happen when you got caught, Jake? You just thought you'd hit me with this 'open marriage' shit and I'd be cool with it? You've been banging that hoe for three weeks, Jake, and lying to me."

He looked sheepish, appropriately so. "I didn't think I'd get caught," he said.

"No one ever does. Did you imagine, somehow, that you're so much smarter than I am that you could just get away with it? Trust me, the jails are full of people who thought they were too smart to get caught."

"You'd know more about that than I would."

He never lost an opportunity to take a shot at me being a criminal defense attorney. "Yes, I would. I have a great many clients just like you."

"You have a bunch of scum for clients," he accused.

"Yes, as I said, just like you."

I was exhausted. Not so much physically, as emotionally and mentally. "We're done, Jake. Think about it, though. This will be so much better for you. Now you can fuck skanky hoes all the time."

"Fifteen years, done, just like that?" he asked.

"It was done three weeks ago," I said. "I just now got all my ducks in a row. I like ducks, don't you? Especially the little cute fluffy ones."

He gaped at me, his mouth open. He looked like a dolt. How had I never noticed before? Evidently, he didn't share my admiration of aquatic birds.

"I'm going to take a long bubble bath now," I told him. "Try not to disturb me by making me look at you, or by speaking, or breathing."

"Where are the girls?" he asked.

"They're at my parents'," I informed him. "They don't want to be disturbed by you, either."

"What did you tell them? What have you done, Syn?"

"I told them you're an idiot," I said. "They agree."

He groaned in frustration. "How do you see this playing out, Syn?"

"Did I mention I was doing something else?" I reminded him. I went into my bathroom and shut the door, locking it before turning on the bath. I looked through my bath bombs. Ah, I had one of those "Golden Eggs" from Lush. That was the one. I threw it in. The honey/toffee scent assaulted me. Glorious.

I undressed, looking at myself critically in the mirror. It began to steam up, annoyingly. I laughed. I guess I was just that hot! I did work my little ass off at staying fit. I spent more hours in the gym than I even wanted to think about, took care of my skin and hair. At 39, I didn't look much different than I had at 29, or 19, for that matter. I was bigger, but I had been pretty small. It was muscle, not flab. My tiddies were bigger, too. They had grown a little when Rice was born, and again after Shey. I cupped them and giggled. They were heavy, full, and I pinched my nipples. That felt good, so I did it again.

I got Latto's "777" album playing, sparked me up a blunt and eased myself into the luxury of my tub. "Big Energy" was playing, and I thought to myself, 'Yeah, I'm needing some big dick energy about now."

My phone buzzed, and it was a Snap from Shey. The kind of worried looking, but smiling faces of my babies looked back at me. "You okay, Mom?"

I panned around to my feet sticking up out of the bubbles, then back. "Yeah, my babies okay?"

"Kinda, yeah," she sent back. "How did it go?"

"Prolly about like what you imagine. It was unpleasant and stressful, but I'm okay. As long as you're going to be okay, I am. Bubble baff making me feel better." I sent them the smiley face with the three hearts.

She sent me two hug emojis. "You still picking us up for lunch tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. Love my girls, night."

I relaxed until the water cooled for the third time, dried off, got my Uber and went to get dressed. I had a new dress! It fit me like a glove and I loved it. I packed me a little bag, just in case. I went all out on my makeup and hair, slipped on my heels, grabbed my black clutch and I was ready.

As I came down the stairs, Jake glanced up from whatever game he had on, did a double-take and stared. "Where are you going, Synthia?"

"Out," I said. I kept walking through his questions and my ride was there. He dropped me at Le Virtu, I gave them my name and a guy took me to the bar. I ordered a mojito, and sipped it, idly dipping my mint leaves in it.

"Hey, Syn." That voice behind me, the deep bass sound sending a thrill through me, just as it always had since his voice changed back when we were teenagers.

"Hey, Quinlan." I offered him my cheek and he gave me a peck. "You ready for a great dinner?"

He extended his hand and I took it, my hand swallowed up in that huge paw. The guy took us to our table and we ordered.

"How'd it go?" he asked.

I laughed. "You are really very like my daughters. That's exactly what they asked."

He laughed. "Well, other than them being little and cute and me being big and ugly, I guess we could be twins. Well, triplets."

I smiled. "Trust me, Q, no one but you thinks you're ugly." It was true. He was smoking hot, but he never realized it. He had always been completely unaware. He was always surprised when some gorgeous woman agreed to go out with him. Every woman who saw him knew, but he didn't. I took a deep breath.

"It's over, Q."

"No chance?" he asked.

"None. He isn't even remorseful. He talked some 'we should open up our marriage' shit. I wasn't listening, by that point. He's always been as shallow as fuck, Q. I've known that for years, but I always thought he was loyal. As long as he was, I was going to be. I liked him, he was good in bed, and never abusive. I loved him, fell in love with him when I was a kid and just as shallow as he is. He just never grew up. I did."

He patted my hand. "I know. It's like he's still the high school quarterback star. He'll never be a serious adult. I never thought he'd cheat, though."

I shook my head. "Yeah, well, I wasted a lot of years."

Our dinner came and we were absorbed for a while, just comfortable chatting with my best friend. We talked about work, the girls, his parents. We split a dessert and got another cocktail.

I took a fortifying drink, drew in a long breath and gathered my courage. "Q, do you love me?" I asked. He choked a little on his Old Fashioned, and I had to laugh.

"What kind of question is that? You know I do. I always have."

"Yeah, I do know. I've always loved you, too. I need to ask you some personal questions, though. Do you think I'm pretty, attractive, sexy, nice, funny, honest?"

He was starting to get a "deer-in-the-headlights" look and it was hilarious. I wanted to laugh, but I was trying to be serious.

"God, Syn. What's up with this? You don't need me to tell you shit like that. You're the hottest woman I've ever met, ever seen, even. You're the total package. You've got everyone who knows you wrapped around your little finger."

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, except Jake."

"He's an idiot," he said.

I had to, I laughed until I cried. "That's exactly what I told him," I gasped.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Yeah, except him."

I was about to push Quinlan. I never had, but I was going to now. He was the consummate bachelor. He dated constantly, always had some gorgeous girl on his arm. He had a luxury penthouse apartment in West Chester, drove a Lamborghini and wore impeccable clothes. He owned his company and lived like he did. For all that, he was the most down-to-earth guy I knew. He was comfortable, and I was about to push him off the ledge.

"Q, we've been best friends practically all our lives, right?"

He nodded. "You're the only friend I have I've known more than 10 years. I haven't really kept in touch with the old crowd, except for you and Jake."

"Me either," I said. "They were a bunch of assholes."

He laughed. "Yeah, I know."

I took both his hands in mine. "Have you ever thought we could be more than friends?"

He was about to panic. I could see it in his eyes.

"I... what... well, I mean, what are you saying, Syn?"

"I have feelings for you," I told him. "I always have. I mean, like, beyond 'friends' feelings. I've kept them suppressed as long as I've known you because I was with Jake. I pushed them away, refused to even acknowledge them. I'm not a cheater, Quinlan. My marriage is over. It was over the second I knew what Jake did. I'm letting you know; I'm coming after you."

He just sat there, too stunned to speak. I knew what was going through his mind. I had just thrown a hand grenade into his carefully ordered world. He was comfortable, everything just the way he wanted it, and now that was all thrown into chaos.

"Syn... I... Jesus, you're like my rock, you always have been. What if... no... I'm not about to do any shit that makes you not like me anymore. I can't risk it... what if you find out you hate me?"

I laughed. "I know, Q, trust me. Look at me and tell me you've never thought about it. Look me in the eye."

He did, for about two seconds. I reached out and cupped his cheek in my hand, making him meet my eyes. "Tell me."

"I can't," he said. "Every day of my life, since the day you hit me in the face with that dodgeball in PE, I've thought about what it would be like."

That cracked me up. God, I loved this guy. His sense of humor was just like mine. I remembered that day very well. My father worked for the Securities and Exchange Commission, and he'd been assigned to a new office. We moved to Philly and it was my first day at that school. I had two balls in my hand, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw this huge guy sneaking up on my left.

He threw the ball and I blocked it with the one in my left hand. He threw it so hard it knocked that ball out of my hand and I let the other one fly. I was a softball pitcher, and it rose a little, hitting him right in the face.

I thought back. Any other boy would probably have been embarrassed, mad, but not Quinlan. He just laughed. "Wow, you've got quite an arm," he said. He grinned with all the charm he'd always had, walked to the bench and sat.

I was out about a minute later, and I went and sat by him. "Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to hit you in the face. I'm Synthia."

"All good," he said. "I was trying to get you, too. You're the best player on that team. I'm Quinlan. My friends call me Q. You can call me Q."

That was it. We were friends, and it had never changed. It was about to change. We were still going to be friends, but it was going to be more. He just didn't know it yet.

"Do you think you'd like to find out?" I asked him.

"Well, yes, in the worst way, but..." his voice trailed off.

"But?"

"I dunno, Syn. Is this some kind of "get back at Jake" thing? Is this something like a rebound thing?"

"I knew you were going to say that. No, Q, trust me when I tell you this, there is no more Jake. He disgusts me. Once I lose respect for a guy, everything he does disgusts me. I have no feelings for him, not even anger or hate. He is what he is, and I feel only indifference and disgust. The first week, yeah, but I'm not about to dwell on it and let it make me bitter."

"I don't see how..."

"I know you don't, but that's the way I am, Quinlan. You've seen me incredibly pissed off, incredibly disappointed. How long did that last?"

He grinned. "Not long. I think you have these incredibly hot burn times. I've never seen anyone be as furious as you get, or cry as hard as you do. When you're done, though, you're done."

"See, you do know me. Say, how would you like to take me dancing?"

"What about the girls? Don't you need to get back?"

"They're with Mom and Dad," I told him. "I'm picking them up for lunch tomorrow. Wanna come with? They'd love to hang with you."

He looked at me a little strangely. "Okay, where you want to go?"

"Someplace you have to be you to get in."

He laughed. "There's a new place I heard about. I know the owner."

"You know everyone," I said.

He chuckled. "Well, I don't know the mayor, or the police chief, but most useful people."

"Take me outta here," I said.

*****

He was a great dancer, as I knew. God knows we'd danced together plenty of times. He wasn't as good as I was, but then all those ballet classes I insisted Mom take me too hadn't been in his childhood. I knew all the classic dances, and I was hella good at shuffle dancing, too. I constantly amazed the girls, and Q was always impressed, too.

They played a mix of pop and EDM, and I made Q work through both sets. He was dragging ass after the EDM set, and I had pity on him, taking him to the bar and then back to a booth. He acted like he was gonna sit on the opposite side, but I pulled him in with me.

"I got bad breath?" I asked him.

He laughed. "No, but I know you, Syn, you're in a predatory mood and I'm afraid you might eat me."

I looked at him speculatively. "I might. Are you gonna fight really hard?"

His arm went around me, pulling me into his warmth and I felt small and protected. I liked that feeling. It was one I hadn't had in a while. "Fight?" he said. "No, Syn, I can never fight with you. We've always had... something. I think we've always both known it, but we've never talked that much about it."

"I know," I whispered. "I... I couldn't, Quinlan. I... Jake..."

"I know, sweetheart. It's never been any big secret, but we always worked around it, stayed friends, did what we needed to do. I've always respected you so much. You stayed in your lane, stayed true to yourself."

"Same," I said. "It always made me jealous as fuck seeing you with those gorgeous things, though."

"I couldn't have the most gorgeous thing," he grinned at me. "I was consoling myself."

I smacked his side and snuggled against him. When I looked up, those piercing blue eyes were looking down into my eyes. "You can have me now," I whispered again.

"Really, Syn? Are you sure? You aren't going to hate yourself, and me, in the morning?"

"I'm not going to hate myself," I said. "I may hate you, if it's only tonight."

He stood and held his hand out. "You're never getting rid of me," he said. I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet, trying to lead me away.

"Q, wait! My bag." He laughed and let me get it, then we walked out with his massive arm draped over my shoulders, mine around his waist.

*****

I had been in his place hundreds of times. It never failed to impress me. The man had impeccable taste. "What kind of music are you in the mood for?" he asked.

"Jazz, old jazz, smooth, a woman."

He laughed. "Pretty specific, there, huh? I'll see what I have."

What he had was Sarah Vaughan, and when I heard "Eternally," I began to melt. We danced through that, and he tilted my face up. I could tell he was going to kiss me, and I wanted that more than anything in the world.

We'd kissed hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, but there was always that unspoken wall between us. This was different. This was a KISS. It was dreamy, sensual, exciting and it went on for what seemed like hours. It was a good thing he was holding me, because I might have become a puddle, right there in his living room. He picked me up easily, and spun me around twice before gently returning me to my feet.

"Bedroom," I whispered in his ear, flicking his earlobe with my tongue. He picked me up again and started carrying me in that direction.

"Wait, wait, my bag," I squealed.

He laughed. "What is it with you and that bag?" He bent down and snagged it off the sofa with one finger, keeping me in his arms like a baby.

He set me down at the foot of his bed. I loved his bedroom. He had a huge round bed, surrounded by shear white curtains. The outside wall was glass, and there was a great view out over the city. Very romantic.

I stepped up to him, working on the buttons of his shirt. "Get my zipper," I told him. His fingers found the little string hanging from my zipper, and he eased it down, his hand moving inside my dress, sliding the zipper down, running down my back, over my spine and sending a chill over me, making me have goosebumps.

His shirt fell to the floor, and there he was. I'd seen him without a shirt hundreds of times, at the pool, playing sports, and he always made my mouth water. Dude was swole! We worked out at the same gym, and I knew the weights he lifted. His muscles had muscles. I ran my hands over his smooth chest. I liked smooth. He flexed those huge pecs, making them dance under my fingers.

I giggled. "You gotta teach me that trick.

He chuckled. "It'll be way sexier when you do it."

I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants and they fell around his ankles. I looked down and burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. He looked insulted, at first, but then he started laughing with me.