After Party
1/1
His tie is loosened, hanging limply around his neck. Her hair, which had been perfectly done for the award show cameras, is in mild disarray. When Susan excuses herself to the ladies room, Robert slips a hand beneath the table and squeezes Emma’s thigh. Their lust is masked by heavy doses of perfume and cologne, his treachery stored away for later regret.
Emma remembers the silk beneath her fingertips, the way his tie unraveled so easily beneath her manicured fingertips. She remembers breathing heavily, her body pressed tightly into his until their bones were groaning against each other.
Robert remembers the taste of champagne on her bubblegum pink lips, remembers how her muscled thigh felt in his hand, flexed around his waist. He remembers pure warmth emanating from her frame, the way she shuddered delicately within his arms.
There were always moments when he expected her to break out in witty sarcasm, muttering joking insults. But none ever came, not until they were back at the table with everyone, with Susan. After all they had to keep up appearances.
Emma fought hard to keep the guilty blush from her cheeks whenever people brought up Roberts earlier speech. They all thought it was a joke, she thought it was a joke, until he sought her out in a deserted hallway, pressed her against a plaster wall.
“What’re you reading?” a scratchy, feminine voice inquires.
Robert startles, swivels his head around to glance at the once upon a time red-head. “It seems the fans got a little excited with my presentation speech,” he informs. “Apparently at this very after-party I have my way with you in a deserted hallway.”
Emma laughs a loud guffaw. “Oh this is rich, I gotta read this.”
For the better part of the night they spend time laughing over the mystery fan’s story, picking at every detail and musing over every scene. It’s only when Susan complains of a headache when the fun ends and Robert tucks his phone into his suit pocket.
“See you later, Mistress.” He murmurs before escorting his beautiful wife from the party.
Emma smiles as they go.
Emma remembers the silk beneath her fingertips, the way his tie unraveled so easily beneath her manicured fingertips. She remembers breathing heavily, her body pressed tightly into his until their bones were groaning against each other.
Robert remembers the taste of champagne on her bubblegum pink lips, remembers how her muscled thigh felt in his hand, flexed around his waist. He remembers pure warmth emanating from her frame, the way she shuddered delicately within his arms.
There were always moments when he expected her to break out in witty sarcasm, muttering joking insults. But none ever came, not until they were back at the table with everyone, with Susan. After all they had to keep up appearances.
Emma fought hard to keep the guilty blush from her cheeks whenever people brought up Roberts earlier speech. They all thought it was a joke, she thought it was a joke, until he sought her out in a deserted hallway, pressed her against a plaster wall.
“What’re you reading?” a scratchy, feminine voice inquires.
Robert startles, swivels his head around to glance at the once upon a time red-head. “It seems the fans got a little excited with my presentation speech,” he informs. “Apparently at this very after-party I have my way with you in a deserted hallway.”
Emma laughs a loud guffaw. “Oh this is rich, I gotta read this.”
For the better part of the night they spend time laughing over the mystery fan’s story, picking at every detail and musing over every scene. It’s only when Susan complains of a headache when the fun ends and Robert tucks his phone into his suit pocket.
“See you later, Mistress.” He murmurs before escorting his beautiful wife from the party.
Emma smiles as they go.
♠ ♠ ♠
Disclaimer: I am not a die hard fan of either, so excuse me if I got their personalities wrong. But you know, whatever.