Life After You

Kelly and Marilyn sit like bookends on the sofa, steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table, a few bridal magazines scattered over their laps. Marilyn flicks through a magazine and giggles
.
"It's scary to think that by this time next year I'll be Mrs Marilyn Jenkins"

"You're lucky. Wayne's a lovely guy and I know he'll make you really happy" Kelly adds in agreement.
Kelly looks away and tries to hide the tears.

"Kelly, what's wrong?" Marilyn
asks"What is it?"

"I'm just being silly." Kelly takes a deep breath. Marilyn makes it clear that she isn't getting off that easily without telling her. "I've got to admit I'm kind of jealous. You've found the love of your life, you're getting married and everything's so lovely."

Marilyn hands her a tissue.

"What you need is a man"Kelly laughs.

"I'm serious." Marilyn says"I know a few guys who would love to take you out. Just let me organise it and all you have to do is make yourself pretty"

Kelly reluctantly agrees. Allowing herself to be sent on a blind-date wasn't normally how she liked to meet men, but Marilyn insisted. And who knows she would maybe enjoy herself.

*****

He shakes a few pills from the bottle into the palm of his hand and swallows them. It's been one nightmare of a week. He had made a fool of himself at the engagement party when he had kissed Kelly. Now, he had been referred to another psychiatrist. He had really screwed up. He turns on the shower and steps into the spacious cubicle. He stands under the running water, his head bent so the water penetrates the back of his neck. He shampoos his hair, the soapy suds sliding down his toned muscular body. He swoops his hair back and grabs the soap. Jeremy slides the soap over his chest and down his torso, rubbing the soap into his skin. He closes his eyes and let's the water rinse his body. He rubs his chest and stomach and imagines that the touch is from Kelly.
He can imagine her touching his skin. How she drags his nails across his back as he kisses her neck. His hand goes to his nether region, feeling a warmth bubbling away in his stomach. He strokes himself, remembering the feeling of her lips against his. He can still taste the champagne on her plump lips.
His forehead presses against his forearm, his breath catching in his throat. He groans, his legs shake. The release is so sweetly close. He's so close. With a grunt and a groan he feels his knees going weak, his orgasm gripping him.

"Shit" he mumbles as the water cools.

He grabs a towel and steps out of the shower. He is breathless as he looks at himself in the steamed up mirror. He needs to sort himself out.