Michael And Elizabeth

A little vignette for you to read. Be sure to read the bottom when you finish!

There is no heavy, graphic sex!

*****

He stood with his left arm pushed out holding himself against the window frame. His eyes gazed out at New York below. Lights twinkled, cars moved. Signs of life as busy as the city itself. In the distance along the East River, he could see the UN; the detail he had requested after leaving Paris. From behind him the voice of the one person he loved more than anything shook him from his reverie.

"What happened to us, Michael?"

"Well, finding you in our bedroom with a men not me for starters," he stated flatly.

"Michael, I am so sorry," the voice replied. "I am sorrier than you can imagine."

His eyes never leave the scene below him. "I know you are, Elizabeth."

He pushed off from the frame and began to turn.

*************************************************************

Out of habit, Michael Quinn stepped silently through his door. Also out of habit, walked over to the coffee maker held his hand up against the carafe. It was still warm. Good, I need a hot coffee right now. He reached up into the cupboard and drew down a coffee mug. He added cream and sugar. He liked his coffee blonde and sweet; it reminded him of Sarah, his six year old.

He took a sip. From the back of the flat he heard a low moan. Puzzled, he walked off in that direction. It was coming from their bedroom. The bedroom door was closed but he could still hear soft moans. Perhaps Lizbeth was sick. She had been complaining about stomach problems for the past couple of weeks.

He reached down and opened the door.

There appeared to be a large naked black man with his hips moving rhythmically against the bed. Michael's eyebrows drew together more in puzzlement than in anger. Why is this man humping my bed?

Michael stepped into the room and noticed a figure beneath the man. It was his wife, Lizbeth, her face obscured by the man's head. Her legs came up and wrapped around the back of his.

That is odd, Michael observed. This guy is way out of shape. The man's hands slid down and grabbed Lizbeth's ass. The man's rhythm sped up. Sweat glistened off the man's torso and he began pumping faster. From underneath Michael's wife moaned again but this time Michael could not tell if it was in pleasure or pain.

"That is it baby. Damn, but you got a nice pussy!" The strangers' tempo slowed down and his hips started to make circular motions pressing up against her clitoris. "Your husband never does this for you, hmmm, baby?"

Lizbeth never said a word.

"What is the matter baby, cat got your tongue? Maybe you are just remembering the taste of my cock." That said, his hips moved faster.

Suddenly he stopped. A deep, guttural groan escaped as he slowly began to pump in and out of her.

Oddly detached from it all, Michael surmised that the stranger must have just got his nut. The stranger must have been working pretty hard from the amount of sweat.

"Please get off me. Your heavy." The man rolled off of her. Her body also shown with sweat.

"Damn, woman, I hope your husband never finds out what he is missing. I gotta get some of this again!"

*************************************************************

"Michael, are you all right?"

Michael Quinn returned to the present with the start. "Yeah, yeah. I was just recalling something."

He stepped away from the window and looked at the woman who had been his wife. His heart fluttered and his breath caught in his throat. Although not classically beautiful, to Michael, Elizabeth Quinn was still the most desirable woman he had ever known. Her long blonde hair fell over her face, vaguely reminding him of Veronica Lake. At 5'8" she was not overly tall but fit nicely against his 5'11" frame. Her hips were wide and a pleasant dividend from the three children they shared. Her legs were long and her thighs fully curved. Her breasts while small but set high. But the thing that held him the most were her deep blue eyes. Blue eyes were becoming less and less common in the United States and hers were the bluest he had ever seen. Even wearing her glasses, as she was now, her presence made him weak.

Michael knew he still wanted her. He still loved her.

"Where are my manners? Please, have a seat," he offered pointing to the leather sofa. He needed time to think - space to come to grips with seeing her again after all these months. He walked off into the kitchen and pulled out a chilled bottle of German Riesling. "Would you like a glass of wine, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Michael, yes I would." She said while setting her purse on the sofa next to her. "You always had good taste in wines." He had called her Elizabeth, not Lizbeth. This was not a good sign.

"The French did not seem to think so," he said with a small smile. He set wine glasses in front of them filling both with the golden liquid. Michael had always preferred the slightly sweet German wines from the Rhine Valley.

Elizabeth chuckled. "No, they did not." She took a sip. "Ummm! This is good." Elizabeth Quinn looked over the wine glass at her husband of 13 years. His body was still hard and lean, but then with his work he always had to stay in fighting shape. The face was still moderately tanned appearing a bit ruddier than she remembered. His hair was still ash blonde, but perhaps grayer at the temples. His eyes were steady orbs of hazel with flecks of gray.

Michael cleared his throat. "So, what brings you here, Elizabeth?" This was the first time he had seen her in over six months.

"You know why I am here, Michael," she began. "If you do not want to see me at least visit your children. Kevin and Brian are lost without you and Sarah cries every night. You wanted to divorce me, Michael, not your children. They should not have to pay for my mistake."

Michael knew she was right. After he had left that night he had completely put his past life behind. To them he had just disappeared. He had gone the cowardly way and left without saying goodbye to anyone. But, his heart had just hurt too much. The pain had gone too deep, the wound had been open and bleeding. This was the excuse he had used to wallow in his own self-pity. She was right. He had no business shutting out his own children. They were his and not just collateral damage. The problem been with their mother and not with them.

"Yeah. How are they doing?"

"Now you are going to ask?" She took another sip of wine. "Kevin is just getting ready to start the seventh grade, as you know. Brian will soon become the terror of Miss Overton's fifth grade class. Sarah," she paused, looking deeply into her husband's eyes. "Well, Sarah has become a bit of a discipline problem. It appears that she likes to punch boys in the face whenever the opportunity presents itself."

Michael followed his ex-wife's example and took a gulp of wine. His was a bit deeper than hers. "I am sorry to hear that. Have you taken her to see anyone?"

"Yes, twice. Both counselors had the same diagnosis; she misses her father. So, she is acting out."

His eyes flashed. "Are you saying this is my fault?"

His wife sat her empty glass on the coffee table. "No, this is my fault. I take full responsibility. But, your absence has not helped matters."

Michael stood up and walked over by the breakfast nook which separated the living room from the small kitchen. He needed space between the two of them. He needed space to think. He leaned back setting his arms one on each of the bar stools which lined the breakfast nook.

"Elizabeth, other than trying to lay a humongous guilt trip on me, just why are you here?"

Elizabeth stood and begin walking in his direction. Michael saw that she was wearing the teal suit that they had bought for her in Paris. It come with a jacket and matching skirt and Michael marveled at the way the teal accentuated the blue of her eyes. She needed it for an upcoming Embassy event and it was expensive as was most clothing in Paris. They had fought for nearly 20 minutes before Michael had finally relented and bought the ensemble. He also noted that she was also wearing the black open toed high heels that she had just had to have to go with the outfit.

She was still the most stunning woman he had ever seen. And his heart ached for her.

Elisabeth stopped in front of him. "Michael, you know why I am here," she said softly. "I have spoken to Harry and I know what you are doing. You can't go one like this, darling."

"Harry needs to learn how to keep his big mouth shut," Michael complained. Harry Burns was Michael's immediate superior in the Diplomatic Security Service. As Regional Security Officer, or RSO, for the protective contingent at the United Nations, Harry reported only to the United States State Department at Foggy Bottom. Harry was also his friend.

"Oh, really? What about that little stunt you pulled two weeks ago with the visiting president of Liberia? You know it made all the papers, don't you?" She gave a wisp of a smile. "Kevin was so proud. He informed the whole school."

Michael cleared his throat. "That was not a stunt," he replied weakly. "I was doing my job."

Elizabeth took a step closer to the man she had loved and spent wondrous 13 years. "That is not the way Harry sees it." She was standing directly in front of him now. Her blue eyes bore into his own hazel colored.

Involuntarily, Michael took a step back. Her hand came up and laid lightly upon his chest. The effect was electric. "Michael, it is time for you to come home."

*****

Well, folks, this seems like a good stopping point. I am going to leave this open. You have most of the background. You know for whom Michael works, you know what it is Elizabeth did, you know what effect it had on the family. You know that there is a problem with him and work. So, with all that behind you, I want you all to take a shot at ending this little story. It is my fervent hope that such illustrious writers as HDK, FrancisM, SS07, and, of course, FTDS, will take a shot at finishing this up. Will Michael and Elizabeth get back together? Will Michael find it in his heart to forgive and move on or will they separate? And what is it that Harry Burns has on his mind?

If asked, I will certainly publish my version of the ending of the story. But I would like whoever wants out there in LiteErotica Land to take a shot and give their version of the ending. My only request is for God Sakes, please, do not turn Michael into a whimp! But, it is going to be your ending and I have given you carte blanche to write as you please.

Oh, and I know I am leaving myself open to annony and the 1* bombs. So what?

I will be looking forward to seeing what you do with this.