Charade Read Free

hand and holding an insufficient umbrella with the other, she dashed through the downpour to the corner bus stop. She was still huddled there in her thin coat when his car pulled to a stop at the curb. He rolled down the passenger window. "Get in. Please." "The bus will be here soon." "You're getting soaked. Get in." "It's only a few minutes late." "Please." He was pleading for more than the privilege of driving her home, and they both knew that. Unable to resist the temptation, she slipped inside when he pushed the car door open for her. Without another word, he drove to a remote spot in the municipal park a short distance from downtown. No sooner had he cut the motor and turned to her than they began kissing hungrily. With the first touch of his lips, she mentally abandoned her husband, her children, and her religious convictions. She was governed by carnal demands, not the mores she had been espousing since she was old enough to discern right from wrong. Impatiently they grappled with buttons and zippers and hooks until they had loosened their damp clothes and were touching skin to skin. First his hands and then his mouth did things to her she found both thrilling and shocking. When he entered her, her conscience couldn't be heard above his ardent professions of love. That initial passion hadn't abated. If anything it had escalated during their stolen hours together. Now, she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. Her full lips fashioned a shy smile. "I'm not ashamed enough to end our affair. Even though I know it's a sin, I'd die if I thought I'd never make love to you again." With a groan of renewed desire, he pulled her back against him. She twisted her body around until she lay on top of him, her open thighs straddling his hips. He thrust himself deep inside her, then raised his head off the pillow to nuzzle her breasts. She pressed her large nipple against his
    lips. He caressed it with his tongue, then greedily drew it into his mouth. This position was still a novel and exhilarating experience for her. She rode him hard until they enjoyed another explosive and simultaneous climax, which left them weak and panting for breath. "Leave him," he rasped urgently. "Today. Now. Don't spend another night with him." "I can't." "You can. Thinking of you with him is driving me crazy. I love you. I love you." "I love you, too," she said tearfully. "But I can't just walk away from my home. I can't desert my children." "Your home is with me now. i don't expect you to desert your children. Bring them. I'll be their father." "He's their father. They love him. He's my husband. In the eyes of God, I belong to him. I can't leave him." "You don't love him." "No," she admitted. "Not the way I love you. But he's a good man. He provides for me and the girls." "That's not love. He's merely fulfilling his responsibilities." "To him they're more or less the same." She rested her head against his shoulder, willing him to understand. "We grew up in the same neighborhood. We were sweethearts in high school. Our lives are entwined. He's a part of me, and I'm a part of him. If I left him, he'd never understand why. It would destroy him." "It'll destroy me if you don't." "That's not so," she said. "You're smarter than he is. More self-confident and strong. You'll survive no matter what. I'm not sure he would." "He doesn't love you the way I do." "He doesn't make love to me the way you do. He would never think of ..." Embarrassed, she ducked her head. Sexuality was still a secretive subject, closed to candid discussion. It had never been openly acknowledged, either in her family when she was a girl or in her marriage. It was done in the dark, a necessary evil tolerated and forgiven by God in order to perpetuate the human race. "He's not sensitive to my desires," she said, blushing. "He'd be
    shocked to know I even have desires. You encourage me to touch you in ways I would never touch him because it would offend him. He'd think your