My husband had finally packed all of his things, and was now standing at the front door, staring at me from behind dark sunglasses. His mouth was a straight line, tight, his eyebrows drawn together. I wasn't sure if he'd been angry or feeling regret. I couldn't have cared any less at that point. I just wanted him to walk out of that door, and hopefully out of my life. He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand.
"No, Chayton. Just leave," I said.
"Alessa, come on, we can work this—"
"God damn it, Chayton, I said no! Now leave!" I screamed, pointing a rigid finger toward the door. Thankfully, he said nothing else, turning away. He shouldered his duffel bag, and grabbed his suitcase. He paused when he opened the door, and I expressed my exasperation with a sigh. Not only because he was letting in chilly, December air, but because he felt like he had to keep talking. I wrapped my silk robe tighter around myself, my nipples suddenly becoming attentive.
"What, Chayton?" I asked, making a point to use his full name. "What could you possibly want to say to me?"
"I'm sorry," he said dourly, his head down. "For everything. Really."
"That's a fucking
laugh
Chayton. You weren't too sorry when you were fucking your so-called 'cousin' of yours." I turned away, walking toward the kitchen, thankful that the children were away at school. They didn't need to hear any of this. "I'll have movers send over your crap."
I heard him let out a defeated sigh, followed by the door closing shut with an angry rattle. I glanced over my shoulder, hearing car doors slam, and the engine roar to life, then the sweet sound of tires screeching hurriedly against pavement, the roar of the engine fading into the distance.
Finally, he was gone.
I wouldn't have to put up with his bullshit anymore. No more staying up at odd hours of the night waiting for him, only to fall asleep and then feel him sliding into the covers at three in the morning. No more tears from discovering phone numbers in his pockets. No more lame excuses. No more bullshit. It was over, and I was free.
Free
. I probably should have felt upset or something, but that word—
Free
—seemed to keep a smile on my face.
Padding bare feet into the kitchen, I snagged the phone hanging near the fridge, and dialed Nicholas, my best friend Velia's hot little brother. I figured that I could get him to help me gather the rest of my husband's shit . . . among other things. The phone rang for a moment before he answered, sounding groggy. I glanced at the clock. It was just five minutes till two.
"Jesus, Neeko, were you sleep?" I asked, releasing the front of my purple silk robe, letting it hang open. I was, of course, completely nude underneath.
"Lessa?" He said, coughing. He waited a long moment before saying anything else, probably wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Of course I was sleep, it's like . . ." A pause, and then a curse. "Fuck, it's after 12 already?"
"Yessiree-bob," I said with a laugh.
"Wow . . . well, it is my day off," he reasoned. "What's up, Lessa?"
"Well . . . Chay's gone. His bullshit finally caught up to him."
"Damn, Lessa, I'm sorry to hear that," He said with a bit of uncertainty. He probably didn't know whether to be joyous or consoling.
"Don't be, hun," I said. "I
do
need someone to help me gather all of his crap so that I can send it to his brother's, though."
"Sure, when do you need me?"
"Is . . . now fine?"
"Now?"
I could already see the smile creeping up on his deviant little lips. Though he'd never made a move against me—out of respect for my sham of a marriage—but he never hid the fact that he wanted me. From the little comments he'd make about my weight being sexy, to catching him watching me with amorous eyes. Velia had even told me once that Nicholas has had a thing for me for
years
.
And with Chayton gone . . . I could finally do as I pleased, whom I pleased. Nicholas in particular. I suddenly felt a twinge in my pussy . . .
God, Velia is going to kill me,
I thought amusingly.
"Sure, now is fine," he continued. "Just let me grab a shower and I'll head right on over, alright?"
"Awesome, hon. The door'll be open when you get here," I said, leaning back against the fridge, my fingers aching to give my pussy a bit of attention. I suppressed the urge.
We exchanged our goodbyes and hung up, and I let out a deep breath. He was really coming over, and I intended on seducing him! I hadn't seduced anyone since . . . well . . . ever! Anxiety filled me, twisting in my gut. What the hell was I going to do? What if he didn't respond to my advancements? And suddenly my age became a factor, a liability. I was thirty-eight years old, and Nicholas was barely 25. How was he really going to find me and my overweight, thirty-eight year old body attractive? I almost had a mind to rush to my computer to see if there was a way to drop from a size 16 to a 5 in ten minutes.
Stop being silly, Alessa