I walked behind you and unzipped your dress and help you out of it. You told me to hang it up and also put his clothing in a neat pile, you were turning out lights as I did that. Next you led me to a corner and stuck my nose against the wall and told me not to move unless you told me. You whispered "I love you" before you walked away. I heard you slip into bed and then I could hear some rustling, some moaning and I knew he was either eating you or you were sucking him. My feet hurt in the heels, I wanted to get the panties out of my mouth, I desperately wanted to see what was happening. Then I heard you ask him to take it slow, I knew what was happening. Then I heard you moan, part pain, part pleasure. After a few moments I heard his hips slapping against your ass and slowly the pace picked up, you were moaning and grunting with every thrust and I heard you begin asking him to fuck you, begging him to fuck you, and then the slap as he slapped your ass the first time. My cock was. As he drives he tries to gauge where she might be by recalling what Clara had told him of this night. How she walked through the blankets of rain to street corners where shuttle-buses were supposed to be waiting only to find a massive crowd huddled together at the bus stops. How she tried in vain to hail taxis only to get splashed as they drove by hitting the puddles on the streets. She walked and walked to get home...because Paul would be there waiting for her. “Oh God,” Paul cries, and smacks the wheel of the car with his palm. He checks his watch: twenty-five minutes remaining. How could Michael do this? Why this day? Why now? All he can think about is to see her. That's all. To see here, to hold her, to be with her. It didn't matter if they said nothing, if they did nothing else other than hold each other close. He just needs to be with her, be with Clara. Fifteen minutes. He is wedged into bumper-to-bumper traffic now. For half a heartbeat he considers ploughing his way through.
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