Disclaimer: This is a work of erotic fiction, but mostly fantasy. All persons depicted within are over 18 years of age. A romantic vision; all persons and places are fictional. Any reference to real people and places are incidental in nature and unintentional. The majority of this story is romantic in nature, between a man and a woman, however, this story includes sexual relations between two women, and between two women and a man that will include various fetish scenarios. If this is not what you are looking for, please find another story.
Author’s Note: Thank you for sticking with me and for all the positive feedback I have received as well as the constructive criticism. It took a lot of courage, on my part, to submit a story to this site. I still struggle with holding onto that courage when submitting chapters such as the following, but your positive feedback in comments and private direct messages has helped me push forward and continue this story, so thank you all. I appreciate you, the reader, more than I thought possible. Thank you for the inspiration.
Chapter 6: Communion
I awoke early the next morning suffocating, or very nearly, anyway, sandwiched between David and Jocelyn. David had his arm wrapped around my torso, spooning my back and buttocks, while Jocelyn’s long leg was slung over both our hips. I felt like a caterpillar encased in its cocoon.
Very carefully, I shimmed down between their bodies, emerging from the cocoon of limbs and sheets at the foot of the bed. I looked back once I was free, studying David’s glorious face in the darkened room that was steadily growing lighter with the rising sun.
He looked so peaceful, and so heart-wrenchingly beautiful that I allowed myself these few moments to just simply drink the sight of him in, kind of reassuring myself that last night really wasn’t a dream.
Jocelyn too, looked peaceful, her features softened somehow in sleep, still alluring in their sexually-ambiguous details. I tiptoed across the room and through the arch-way that led to the bathroom, then slipped into the enclosed toilet, relieving the urgent call that had awoken me in the first place.
Glancing at the dainty watch on my wrist, it was not yet six in the morning. I tried not to meet my eyes in the mirror over the sink as I washed my hands and threw water on my face. Not out of vanity. I didn’t need a mirror to know that I looked like I had been ‘rode hard and put away wet,’ as the saying goes, for I was. I couldn’t look in the mirror because I couldn’t yet face what I had done last night, couldn’t yet meet what lay over that line I had finally crossed.
I found either David’s or Jocelyn’s small comb and attempted to combat the snarled mass that was my morning hair. After managing to regain some kind of order, I tied it into a knot at the back of my head and thrust the tines of the short comb through the strands to hold the knot in place like a clip. It worked fairly well and I was pleased with the results.
Giving up hope for a tooth brush, I rinsed my mouth out with some mouthwash I found in the bathroom cabinet, and then made my way silently to the walk in closet, picking up my fallen clothes on the way. I quickly donned my bra, but tucked my soiled panties into the pocket of my jeans, borrowing instead a pair of David’s boxer briefs, rolling the top down until they fit appropriately.
I pulled on my pants from the day before, but borrowed another article of David’s clothing, this time a faded gray cotton tee that he probably used as an undershirt. It was soft and warm and smelled gently of David’s cologne despite being laundered.
I shoved my feet into my vans and slipped from the room, shirt in hand from yesterday, leaving the two sleeping peacefully. I felt wide awake, though we probably all fell asleep around midnight. It was that damned internal alarm clock you develop as one does when you deal with daily responsibilities like getting your child ready for school and out the door so that you can make it to work on time as well. That alarm clock functioned on weekends too, no matter how hard I tried to silence it.
I found my purse on the table in the entrance hall just where I’d left it yesterday evening. I put my folded shirt beneath it so I wouldn’t forget it. My phone was alive enough to check my messages, but not alive enough to last through a phone call to my son, I surmised, not that he would be awake at this time to receive it, so I stowed it back in my purse. I could charge it in the car on the way home and call him then.
Alone in the house, with the children and their parents sleeping, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself so I wandered into the family room, stopping in front of the large bay windows. The view was just as breathtaking as yesterday, more so now with the rising sun painting the sky with its vivid rays of choral pinks and sherbet oranges amid the baby blues.
Alone, I soon became lost in thought. I knew I needed to leave today. It was Sunday and tomorrow was the first day back to school after anadolu yakası escort two weeks of winter break and I had lessons to prepare. The conference was ending today too, and I was supposed to be picking Bradley up from his grandparents by three pm at the latest.
At that thought, I was suddenly consumed with a longing for my son that brought my breath up short. I ached for the familiar weight of him in my arms, for his big, toothy grin and hearty laughter. After all I had gone through this past year with losing his father in such a meaningless, senseless way… he was that place of safety, that constant I could turn to in all the chaos of loss.
Caring for my son had kept me sane, kept me whole. Really, he was what had kept me waking up every morning, and there had been some mornings this past year that I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Without my son, I would have lost myself when I lost his father.
I felt selfish, suddenly, that I had spent the night in the arms of my my ex and his wife, that I was thinking of bringing us to this tempting paradise of love and safety without talking to him, without thinking, really thinking, about what it would mean to him, how it would affect his life and not just mine.
The clatter of a door and stomping of little feet clamored suddenly, interrupting my brooding, and I turned to see little Bree flying down the stairs, her nightgown billowing out like a sail behind her with Buckley bouncing after.
“HI!” She practically shouted at me. “You’re still here!”
“Yes, but your Mommy and Daddy and brother are all still sleeping, so… shhh.” I held my hand to my lips and she smiled and did the same. Buckley seemed to understand my request too, for he was silent as he wiggled and sashayed his little butt around me.
“I’m glad you stayed, Ms. Rosaline,” Bree whispered loudly. She hugged my waist and I smiled, smoothing back her tangled brown hair.
“Well, thank you, Miss Bree.” I echoed her polite greeting, marveling at the manners her parents had taught her. My son had never called anyone Ms, Miss, or Mister in his life.
Her innocent truth and unabashed joy was contagious, though, and I felt my spirits lifting. How could one not feel uplifted when confronted with such adorableness as Bree.
“Buckley woke me up. He sleeps with me ’cause I get scared of the dark sometimes, and he helps me. I think he heard you down here, but I need to let him out to go potty anyway.”
“Ok, lead the way.” I gestured and she turned to the front door. “Oh, do you let him out in the front yard, then?”
“Yeah, ’cause otherwise he’d have to go down the steps on the deck and that’s too far for me to follow. I don’t like climbing all those steps.” I laughed at that and unlatched the front door for the pair.
It was cold outside, in a sting your face kind of way, and our breaths wafted out in front of us. Buckley made short work of his morning chore and all three of us thankfully made our way back into the warmth of the house.
“Are you going back up to bed, then?” I asked Bree.
“Naw, I’m not sleepy anymore, but I am hungry. Will you help me get cereal down? My brother usually helps me if mommy and daddy sleep late, but he’s not up yet either.”
“Of course.” I followed her into the spacious kitchen which was swathed in those same sunrise colors that spilled from all the large windows overlooking the deck/balcony and back yard. Bree led me into the pantry at the back of the kitchen and pointed to some sugary looking cereal, but my eyes roved over the shelves, admiring the fully stocked pantry and inspiration struck.
In no time, I had Bree propped up on a stool at the kitchen island stirring a large mixing bowl of flower, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, milk, and eggs for our pancake batter, while I mashed bananas with ground nutmeg, cinnamon, and ginger.
The alluring smell of banana pancakes cooking on a buttered cast iron griddle I unearthed from a lower cabinet must have wafted upstairs, because Jamie soon joined us. He looked slightly less rumpled than his sister, though his thick dark hair was slightly flattened in places. As he was older and nearly as tall as I, I had him help flip pancakes, Buckley eagerly waiting around our ankles for a poorly flipped pancake to go flying.
These two were such a joy, and I had that same kind of ache for my son watching them work together, scooping batter and happily flipping pancakes. Bananas were Bradley’s favorite fruit and we made banana pancakes almost every Sunday just like this, in a large batch that could be frozen for a quick breakfast during the week.
It was this sight, with me helping Jamie flip a particularly large pancake that Bree had poured with Bree and Buckley cheering us on, that greeted David’s eyes a bit later. I didn’t know how long he had been standing there, leaning casually against the doorway, but I suddenly sensed that he was there.
I turned and drank him in. He was rumpled looking still, his ataşehir escort hair tousled like Jamie’s, just all over the place. He was wearing some baggy knit pajama pants that were long on the cuff for just the toes of his large, flat feet were peeking out, and had on the same soft cotton tee that I had on, white instead of gray.
I met his eyes, electric blue in the early morning light, and I smiled gently at him. His face was full of what I knew was that same aching longing fueled by love that I had felt sharply here and there for my son all morning. It tugged at me, called to me, and I bit my lip.
I knew right then and there that I would do anything within my power to answer that call. How could I say no to such powerful love. A love that spanned a 15 year distance? That literally stood the test of time? I would be a fool to turn it away again, to throw away the chance to love and be loved unconditionally, wouldn’t I?
But no, that silent voice hissed at the back of my mind, not unconditionally, was it? The condition being that I had to be here, to live here, and take Jocelyn too, in order to hold on to that love, to partake in it, to keep it whole and undamaged, for it would be damaged if he was removed from his family. I knew that more now than ever having watched them all together.
I sighed and turned back to the pancakes, helping Jamie unstick the large one from the griddle. I felt David walk up, felt his heat at my back. He stroked my arm surreptitiously with the back of his hand and whispered in my ear.
“Hey, you ok?” I nodded back, unable at the moment to speak. I knew that if I looked at him, I would lose what little control I had and tears would flow, as they always did, whenever I was faced with any challenge, no matter how small. I don’t know why that happens to me, it just does, and right now I freaking hated it. Except with my students. I can always maintain control in my classroom. It was like that cop thing Jocelyn did, turning her heart on and off like that. It was just too bad I didn’t have that same control when it came to David.
“Daddy!” Bree shouted, catapulting herself off of her stool and into her father’s arms with a flying leap. “Ms. Rosaline made PANCAKES! With BANANAS! Can you believe it? The bananas are INSIDE! She didn’t even use the stuff from the yellow box! I didn’t even know you could do that! And I helped! I made PANCAKES, with BANANAS! Isn’t it amazing?!”
“Yes,” David gasped, for Bree had caught him in the stomach with a flying knee.
“Yes, love, it is amazing. She is pretty amazing, isn’t she?”
“I can’t wait to eat ’em.”
“Me either. They look delicious. You did a good job, Bree.”
“Yes, you did. You were a big help.” I kissed her head and felt David kiss the back of mine. “And you too, Mr. Jamie. You were a big help.” I pulled him into a side hug and Jamie smiled that soft, humble smile I saw so often on his father’s face.
“Well, while you three finish those pancakes, I’m going to make some coffee. Can I tempt you, Rosie?” I caught his eyes and he smirked. That word tempt had a little more emphasis on it than was necessary, and he knew it.
“Yes. As you always do,” I quipped back. David grinned cheekily at me at turned to the coffee nook that housed a fancy espresso machine nestled alongside a pedestrian Keurig next to the double ovens on the center wall. Jamie retrieved maple syrup from the pantry at my request and Bree helped me set the little breakfast table in the nook just beside the sliding glass door that led to the deck.
“That shirt looks good on you, by the way,” David said softly to me when he handed me a cup of dark, aromatic coffee moments later. I blushed at the seductive note in his deep voice.
“Thank you. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed it. That, and a pair of your shorts.” I hooked my thumb into my waistband and pulled the rolled top of his boxer-briefs up enough so that he could see. His eyes widened, his brows lifting nearly to his hair line.
“Oh yeah? Hmmm… no problem.” His voice broke on the last word and I smiled, glad to have given him back some of what he was giving out.
Just as David was pouring some vanilla creamer into both our coffees, Jocelyn joined us.
“Yum! This looks amazing.” Bree bounced around her mother, shouting her incredulity of having helped to make the pancakes that morning from SCRATCH!.
Jocelyn listened with a contented smile on her face. David poured a cup of coffee for her and she took it, black, taking a grateful sip as if to endure the hopping bubble of Bree’s jubilant play-by-play of pancake making so early in the morning.
“…And Jamie helped flip pancakes!” She pulled her mother to the table with the steaming stack of pancakes I had just sat sat in the middle. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat them!” Jocelyn laughed and tousled Jamie’s already tousled hair.
“Good job, Bree and Jamie. Did you thank Miss Rosaline?”
“Thank you, Ms. Rosaline.” They said in unison.
“Of avcılar escort course. Dig in.” David and I sat as well, but I did not take a pancake, content to watch the children eat them instead and just enjoyed this delicious coffee David had made for me. He must have access to the good stuff here in the bay area, because the coffee was rich and flavorful. I wanted nothing, not even banana pancakes to spoil the flavor.
I was having too much fun watching the children enjoy them anyway, thinking happily of my own son and making comparisons. Bree seemed enraptured by the pancakes, and was soon a syrupy mess, eating with abandon, much like Bradley did. Jamie ate more tidily but with just as much gusto, just like his father.
“You’ll have to excuse the children. The most either of us can manage is pancakes from a box or frozen waffles. They are in heaven right now.” Jocelyn said. “And me too. These are freaking delicious, Rosaline.”
“Yes they are,” David said thickly around a mouthful of pancake.
“Thank you,” I blushed again with their praise. It was nice to feel appreciated. “And seriously, no excuse needed. They did all the work, so they deserve the reward, right kiddos?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, sweetie,” Jocelyn admonished Bree who simply shoved another forkful of pancake into her mouth by way of apology.
When more than half the ample stack was demolished, Jocelyn sent Bree and Jamie upstairs to clean up and brush their teeth.
“So,” Jocelyn began, breaking the silence after the children were safely upstairs.
“How are you doing in there? Any regrets?” I looked up and caught her eyes, catching her smile of encouragement. I tried and failed to deliver one of my own.
“I’m… I think I’m ok.”
“Really?” She asked hopefully.
“Yeah, I mean… maybe it’s better to say, I will be. But I’m not a piece of glass, you guys. I’m not about to break. Promise.”
“All right, message received.” Jocelyn conceded and resumed sipping her coffee.
“Let’s just give her some space, Joss.” David said gently, without reproach.
“Really, guys. Thank you for being so concerned for my mental state, but I am ok. Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.” Jocelyn laughed gently at that, but David’s eyes narrowed. He knew me too well to buy what I was peddling.
“If that’s true, then what else is going on?” He asked quietly. On one hand I was glad that he still knew me so well, after all this time, to understand that I was holding something back, on the other hand, it would be nice to have a private thought every once in a while.
“Once again… it amazes me how you seem to read my mind like that, Davey.”
“It’s not mind reading. I love you, and I can tell when you’re hurting. It’s a kind of look in your eye, a tautness to your mouth, which is usually so soft, so inviting.” He ran the tip of his index finger over my bottom lip and I pulled my lip between my teeth, turning away, resisting that ever-present pull that was David. He sighed, resigned.
“What’s wrong then, if it isn’t what we did last night. Do you…” he stalled, unable at last to meet my eye. He turned and looked out of the window, voicing his concern to the morning sun instead. “You don’t want to come here anymore, do you.”
Jocelyn grabbed his hand, uniting them and lending him her strength. It was that union, that silent communion between them, other than how all of this would affect my son, which was the biggest obstacle to overcome.
I still felt so jealous. I just couldn’t help it. It was a shameful feeling that I simply couldn’t shake no matter how hard I tried. Just the sight of them holding hands like that… I felt a keen sense of loss somehow.
Yes, he was sitting in front of me and more accessible to me now than he had been in my most wildest dreams over the last fifteen years, but he wasn’t reaching for me in this moment, wasn’t clinging on to me. I knew, deep down, that he shouldn’t be, really. I wasn’t his wife. I hadn’t spent the last 15 years building life with him and creating a connection like the two had here.
I knew that he loved me, and I loved him, but I felt like an outsider, an intruder on something intimate and personal so much more now, in this moment, than I had last night, watching them kiss and touch. At least I felt like a part of that.
I turned away from the painful sight, looking down into my cup of cooling coffee and felt the back of my eyes burn.
Suddenly, Jocelyn’s hand was on mine, clutching at me and lending me her strength. David pulled my other hand and held on to me too. I was strongly reminded of last night, when Jocelyn did the same thing, pulling us together when fear and hesitancy would have had me running away.
“Listen,” she said urgently. “Please don’t give up, either of you. I know this is hard. I know this is scary for you Rosaline, and just as I said last night, I am awed by your bravery. Don’t for a minute think you are in this alone, though, not for one second.” Her fierce conviction bolstered me.
“She’s right. You don’t have to face anything alone. Ever. Even the decision to come here or not. You’re not alone, anymore Rosie. I won’t let you be alone ever again. We won’t let you.” David said, squeezing my hand and those stupid easy tears spilled down my face.