Lost Love

Every precise movement she made was restrained, controlled. She wanted to run her nails down on him, kill him with her eyes, own him and never let him go. Her barely controlled anger made her get rough as she moved over him. She could hurt him and leave her mark on him, make him feel, assert her ownership on him. And the physical pain would be with her too, for a day or two after he was gone, as a reminder.

The shame and bitterness she kept capped, preferring to deal with her anger alone. She didn't want to think about what would happen once they were back in their respective lives. The waiting would begin. Waiting for him, for some time, a scrap of attention, a slice of love. She could never have all of him. And that was killing her.

Her emotions drove her and she moved over him like someone possessed. There was no gentleness or love, only need and anger and bitterness. Every part of her was tense with its very own hate being directed at him, at her, and at the circumstances. Her hair falling on her forehead, swaying with her movements, she propelled herself on him again and again, mechanically, feeling him inside her, yet holding herself apart from him, detaching herself.

Her eyes never left his, reaching into him and devouring him. All her emotions played out in her eyes, and he watched, fascinated. Her lips parted in the little breaths she was taking, and he glimpsed her clenched teeth behind them. Naked breasts rose and fell with every breath she drew into her lungs.

He looked at her, and the very force of her emotions pressed down on him, collecting at the bottom of his stomach, and at the back of his throat as he missed a breath, then two. His fingers tightened around hers almost painfully as she felt him lift his hips up to her more frantically, going faster, approaching the edge. His eyes widened just that little bit... and then he was there, his orgasm thundering through him.

She watched him, every expression, catching each little sound that escaped him. But she didn't allow herself to feel. Numb, she knew she would break down if she let her emotions out, and she would beg him to take her, give her more, and let her into his life. So she climbed off him and moved over to the open window, letting the cool air flow over her heated body.

* * * * *

Looking out over the city laid out in front of her, she wondered if it was worth it. The duplicity, the guilt, the frustration and the hiding. Did two days of togetherness make up for six months of tortured living? Was this what she wanted?

"Maybe we should reconsider our relationship." The words escaped and melted into the night.

The silence stretched out. Maybe he was angry. He had made it clear to her in no uncertain terms that he wanted just this. They had talked about this before they agreed to meet here. It was all talked out already and she had allowed herself to be convinced then, but now... where was the happiness? Why did she feel so sad?

There was a soft sigh behind her back. "I love your back," he told her. "It's perfect. The small waist, the dip of your spine, the softness, the creamy skin. Your hips, with that extra flesh on them, giving me the perfect grip."

She turned to him, the sorrow reflected in her eyes. "Don't." A frown furrowed her brow as she tried hard to control the tears welling up. "Don't you dare make love to me with your words. Not now." She managed to convert her sadness to anger. How dare he take her feelings so lightly? Hot tears welled up in her eyes. "Youknow what I want to talk about, Chris. Don't change the subject." The last sentence came out sharply.

He got the message. "We've had this conversation before, Kath. I don't want to go over it all over again," he said in an even voice.

They stared at each other across the distance, adversaries.

"Do you care, Chris?" she whispered.

He sighed. "Yes, my love. I do. But I do everything I can to make you feel wanted. Loved. You still are not happy. You want more. You want something I cannot give you."

"But it's not something that you can't give me." Her voice struggled not to crack. "I just want more of your time, Chris."

"And that's something I can't give you."

"I see." She swallowed. "Well. That's clear then."

"No..." He started to say something a couple of times, stopped. "I have obligations, Kathryn. I have a family. Wife, kids. A life. Commitments." He stopped to collect his thoughts, then continued. "I give you all the time I can. More than that is just not possible. You have to understand that, love."

Her eyes blazed at him. "I have a family too. Kids, commitments, a job, a life. I still manage to take time out for you. Because Iwant to. Because I want to be with you. Because I love you."

"Are you saying I don't love you?" He stopped himself and closed his eyes. This was getting out of hand. Again!

"No," she flashed back. "I'm saying that maybe you don't want to spend as much time with me as I want to with you."

He gritted his teeth. "It's not about wanting. It's about the opportunity. I'm a busy man."

That got to her. The anger bubbled up and made her bunch her fists. "Don't give me that Chris. I run a goddamn magazine. Deadlines, writers, editors, cover pages, fonts, styles, titles, blurbs, pictures, stories, prints, management versus editors' crap... I can't tell you how many fuck-ups I go through each day. And then when I get home, there are the girls. Cooking, cleaning, homework, the shit going on with their lives, school, disciplining... everything, dammit. I still make time for you. And you, you just use your work and family as a convenient excuse."

"You don't have your husband breathing down your neck every minute."

She felt like throwing something at him. The creep. The bloody low-lying creep. To bring that up and throw it in her face. "You asshole." Her voice was low.

He rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. "Kath, I'm sorry. I just... I meant... shit. You know what I'm trying to say. Alison keeps track of me after what happened two years ago, and you know how hard it is for me to get online or call you when she's always there, hovering. You know every damn thing, Kath. Then I simply don't understand how you can keep bringing this up."

"'Two years ago' happened to me too Chris. We got caught.We. Both of us, by our respective spouses. But I managed to move on. I separated with my husband and I still am every bit of the way with you. I still love you. I still take time out for you. Sharing you is bad enough. But with all your declarations of loving me Chris, it seems that wifey Alison gets more of you than I do. Yes, I know I'm only the mistress and she's the wife. I know she has all the legitimate claims. But dammit, if you really love me as much as you say you do, the least you can do is give me two hours of your undivided time every day. Is that asking for too much?"

"Kathryn, we've had this conversation hundreds of times and frankly, I'm getting sick of it. You know the problems I face. You know my schedule. Oh fuck, Kath. You know more about me and my circumstances than anyone else."

"And so I'm supposed to shut up and bear it. After all, I'm just the mistress."

"You're just what you think you are," he bit out.

"No. It's what you make me by how you treat me," she countered.

"And how do I treat you? Don't I tell you enough how much I love you?"

"Words aren't enough, Chris. I know you're good with words. You're a master at them. You manipulate them too well to make them mean what you want them to. I don't want your words. I want your actions. I want you to stand by your words and show me what I mean to you. That I'm much more than a couple of days of fucking every six months."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Is that what you think this trip is? A casual fuck?"

She lowered her eyes from his intense gaze and took her time answering. "Chris, can you see my point of view here at all? We're much more to each other than each of our spouses ever were. We fulfil needs in each other that no one else can. We compliment each other. I enjoy your mind, your sense of humour, our conversations, common interests... intellectual, physical and spiritual stimulation, you give me everything. I'm happiest when I'm with you. And I suppose you are too. So isn't it natural for me to want more? Lately we've been drifting more and more apart because you're too busy with your work and life, Chris. Whole days go by when we don't talk to each other, and then when we do, you're preoccupied with some case, or something to do with the kids, or Alison..." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I realise we have different lives beyond what we have together, but all I'm asking is that when you're with me, you give me your all."

"I try, Kath. I have moved up where my career's concerned. That takes up a lot of me. The kids are growing up. They have claims on my time..."

"And I?" she interrupted him. "I have no right to ask more than what you throw at me?"

"Kathryn." It was clear he was trying very hard to control his temper. "You know what you are in my life. And if you don't, then I have no other way of telling you than how I do now. At this point in time, it is not possible for me to give you more." He paused momentarily before going on, "Now it's up to you. You can take this, or... well, you can decide not to."

"And?" her voice was soft.

He merely stared back at her, silently, his gaze direct, unflinching.

"You remember how it was earlier, Chris? When we first met... almost five years ago..."

"Circumstances change, Kathryn," he broke in. "People change."

"Love?" she challenged him.

"I believe it changes too," he answered, his voice flat. "That doesn't mean it lessens or disappears, it just... changes."

She nodded and looked down at the floor, letting her hair fall forward so that her face was hidden from him. It was finally becoming clear. "What if this changed love is not what I want, Chris?" She made one last attempt.

He didn't answer her for a long time. When he did, he had already gone away. "That's all I can offer, Kath. After that, it's up to you."

* * * * *

Kathryn couldn't cry. She simply couldn't. It was like something locked inside her the moment she realised that it was over. The actions following his reply were imprinted in her mind from a perspective outside of herself, like she was looking at a movie of herself moving around the room, dressing, packing the little things that she had unpacked. Toothbrush, lotion, the satin slip lying on the floor, discarded clothes.... It was amazing how her mind knew everything she had to do, and she went about it like an automaton, never pausing to reflect, doing what had to be done with tense, jerky movements.

She left the pendant on the night table.

Somewhere at the back of her mind she knew he was looking at her, tracking her every move with the intensity of his eyes from a corner of the room. But she was wrapped in a protective shield. Through the haze that had settled over her, she felt that he too was a spectator from out of the movie in which she was, not a part of the false reality that she inhabited. Detached, desperately clutching at the fragile remains of herself, she managed to stumble out of the room and out of the hotel into a waiting cab.

He walked over to the dresser when she had gone. The tiny diamonds in the pendant glinted up at him. Picking it up, he ran his hand over their hardness, the sharp points digging into his thumb, hurting just that little bit. In a fit of anger and despair, he walked over to the window with it and flung it out into the inky blackness with a flick of his wrist.

* * * * *

She huddled in a chair at the far corner of the boarding lounge. Her shoulders were slumped, head in her hands, one piece of tan luggage at her feet.

The airline employee walked up to her and tapped her on the shoulder. "Mrs. Kathryn Anderson?"

She looked up.

"They've called your name twice. Are you okay?"

She mouthed a sorry at the concerned face of the young girl. No sound came out of her. Her hand reached down for her bag and clutching the handle, she rose to her feet, walking away with the bag trailing after her.

The girl looked at her retreating back and shivered. She felt like the depths of a black and infinite emptiness had reached out and touched her in that one moment when she had looked into the woman's eyes. She bowed her head and sent up a prayer, hoping that wherever the woman was headed, she would find some comfort and peace there.

* * * * *

Author's note: Thanks for reading the story. I hope you liked it. This one is special to me because it is for a dear friend. Votes, comments and feedback are always appreciated. Every email with a return address will receive a reply. I like hearing from readers so please do write.