Evelyn took a drag from her cigarette. She stared at the blank paper in front of her. The black, metal typewriter squatted on her desk, glaring back at her. The hot smoke exited her red lips in a huff. Usually, Evelyn had no trouble pounding out the gumshoe novels that paid the bills. Tonight was different.
Tonight, all Evelyn could think about was Frank. She hadn't received a letter for a couple of weeks, and the last one had been vague. He hadn't been able to tell her where he was going next, or how long he was going to be there. The pages had been muddy and his handwriting hurried. "With my undying love," he had signed it.
Evelyn replaced her cigarette with a tumbler of gin. The clear liquid burned her throat and made her head spin a bit. Evelyn had taken up the mantle of breadwinner when Frank left for France. Writing under his name, she had kept his publisher happy with a steady supply of pulp fiction. She was pleased to find that they didn't care who wrote the book, so long as it sold.
Evelyn set the glass down with a determined thunk. The keys made the familiar clack, clack as she typed out the first sentence. The hard-boiled detective her husband had invented went about his business of solving cases and getting the girl. Filling in the blanks of the formulaic novel didn't take much of Evelyn's concentration, and she soon found her thoughts drifting back to Frank.
They had met at a college dance. Evelyn smiled as she remembered his two left feet; her toes hadn't taken a beating like that since junior high. She hadn't thought much of him at first, and had agreed to a date just to get rid of him. But, by their third time out together, she was hooked. It was his voice that did her in. Smooth as silk, it caressed her name and made her insides melt like chocolate candy on an August afternoon.
The feel of a tear on Evelyn's cheek brought her back to the present. Her hands rested on the keys, unmoving. She took a bracing breath and wiped the tear away. She couldn't give in to her fears; she had to be brave. Crying wouldn't bring Frank back any sooner, and it sure wouldn't put food on the table. What she received from Uncle Sam for Frank's service only stretched so far. Evelyn kicked off her pumps, squared her shoulders, and turned back to the waiting typewriter.
Evelyn
Evelyn froze. The voice had been close. More importantly, it had been Frank's. Evelyn glanced at the tumbler, but no, she hadn't had that much to drink. Was she loosing her grip? Had her worry for her husband finally tipped her over the edge?
A cool breath of air raised shivers on the back of Evelyn's neck. She lifted her hand to the spot, half expecting to find Frank's. He always said that the nape of her neck was the first part of her he fell in love with. She couldn't count the number of times he had kissed the delicate skin there.
A gasp escaped her lips as she felt that kiss.
"Frank?" She whispered her husband's name, not sure if she wanted to hear a reply. Another kiss followed the first, this one closer to her collar bone. The weight of a pair of hands settled on her shoulders, rubbing the tension from them. She closed her eyes, and gave into the experience.
Cool fingers slipped under her collar and dipped around to the front of her neck. Goosebumps raced across her chest, up her throat, and down onto her breasts. Evelyn unfastened the first few buttons of her white blouse to give the fingers access to the exposed skin. A complement of kisses followed the line of her jaw.
It had been months since Evelyn had been touched as a woman. Memories of her last night together with Frank flooded her mind. He had tried so hard to make it special. The candle light had glowed romantically, and her new dress had fit her like a silk glove. Evelyn had pleaded with her husband to let her cook, but he wouldn't give in. In the end, she had loved every last bite of that horrendous vegetable casserole.
Evelyn would never forget the look on his face as they made love that night. The intensity of it was frightening. He had devoured her with his eyes, filling himself with her as if to sustain him through the coming time.
Evelyn
The voice came from the front of her this time. The hands had slid around her shoulders, and she felt the presence kneel between her chair and the desk. She opened her eyes, hoping to meet the deep, chocolate brown of her husband's. The empty air nearly broke her heart.
Evelyn felt the slide of fingertips over her collarbone, and looked down. Her shirt twitched, seemed to want to open more. She obliged, exposing the pointed cups of her bra. The nylon lace dimpled under the touch of invisible fingers, and the coolness of the caress caused her nipples to harden. She watched in amazement as the fabric of the bra gathered and rolled with the fondling. Her breath quickened and a flush of arousal crept up her throat. Wanting more, Evelyn shrugged her shirt off her shoulders. It hung at her waist, still tucked into her tweed skirt.
Fingertips grazed her ribs as the hands slid around to her back. The feel of starched cotton sleeves against her skin sent chills down her torso. She felt her bra clasp twitch, but remain intact. Impatient, Evelyn reached back to assist. A band of cold air encircled her, and her fingers fumbled as they released the hooks. Her bra landed on the floor with a soft thud and the invisible arms tightened their embrace.
Evelyn shivered as first one breast, then the other, was treated to a series of wet, cool kisses. She gasped at the scrape of teeth on an erect nipple, and arched her back in encouragement. One hand lifted a breast in compliance, and took the entire aerola in the strangely chilled mouth. The force of the suction was intense, and Evelyn moaned as she laid her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
