Louis Gosset checked the time on his wristwatch for the umpteenth time, sighed, and then reached for his glass of Bacardi. He occupied a table at the back corner of the restaurant/pub he was in. From where he sat by the window he had an open view of the street and sidewalk. As he sipped his drink, he kept glancing out the window, hoping to catch sight of his wife whom he was there waiting for.
He had some news he wanted to make known to her. Some pretty shocking news. In his mind he'd replayed how he planned and revealing the news to her, and each time his lines sounded more terrible than the former. He reached into his jacket and took out his wallet. From a recess corner he pulled out two passport photographs. One was the smiling features of his wife of twenty-two years, Sophia. The photograph was five years old; he couldn't help but smile, hard to believe it's been five years since he'd been carrying this photograph everywhere with him ... ever since he'd lost his previous wallet at a New York City subway.
The second photograph wasn't of Sophia. The woman whose face smiled seductively at him was much younger than his Sophia. While Sophia was blessed with lush auburn hair that fell to her shoulders with dimpled cheeks, this other's features was angular like that of a runaway model, her hair was sandy-blonde and cut short in the form of a page-boy. Her name was Kate. She was his lover.
She was the reason he'd called his wife while at his office two hours ago asking her to meet him here for lunch break. Unfortunately, lunch was the furthest thing from his mind. How was he going to break the news to his wife that his love for her was currently less of what he had for his lover ... and to seek a divorce from her.
He'd been seeing Kate going on four months now -- my God, four months! -- more for fun and pleasure than for anything else. He'd figured at the time that there was probably little else he could want from her aside from sex. He had a loving wife, they had grown-up kids, though they'd had their ups and downs, they'd stuck through the flame and lived past it ... except of late he'd been feeling kind of lost about things. Kate, he figured, was it. She was outgoing, vivacious and a terrific lay ... and of late she'd been expressing her feelings towards him in words he knew assumed she'd use.
"I love you, Louis," she said.
Louis at first had his eyes shut and pretended not to hear her. They were in bed a week ago in her apartment, naked. They'd finished a bout of love making less than twenty minutes ago. The windows were open and the ceiling fan rotated on its highest but still the room permeated with the sweet, exotic smell of cum and sweat.
Her hand shook him and he had no choice but to become awake. He acted disoriented. "Uh ... what, did you say something?"
She leaned over his chest, hugging him. "I said I love you."
Louise didn't reply. She looked up at him curiously.
"Aren't you going to say anything?"
He sighed. "Kate, you know there's barely little I can say in such matters."
"Well, don't you have any feelings towards me?"
"Of course I do. You know I do."
"But you hardly say anything."
