Tunnel of Love Pt. 02

Mike remembered an activity at scout camp: skeet shooting. Multiple discs were projected into the air. You had to try to shoot them down.

The novices couldn't do it. They'd shoot randomly at all the discs, hitting none. The secret was to pick out one disc, track it, and nail it. Then do the same to another disc.

Physical intimacy wasn't everything. But it was one thing, and no small thing in a marriage. They'd been stumbling towards it, but it still had been somewhat impersonal.

I haven't...pleasured her. Not like I used to. Not at all, actually. I think about it, but...then I think about everything else and I can't...

He imagined Jennifer, lying in bed in the next room over.

Maybe her legs are open. Those bare legs, hardly covered by her robe.

As he visualized the possibilities, the whole great and terrible range of his feelings for and against Jennifer welled up. He was afraid they would follow him, if he went to her. Afraid of what might go wrong. Maybe he should follow orders; be the brakeman?

But she also said I would have to contribute. That I would have to want this.

For the first time in a long time, Mike felt...resolve.

Brakeman? No. It's time to be the engineer. Time to drive this train.

* * *

Jennifer lay in bed. A candle flickered like her flickering hope. Would Mike come? Had she put too much pressure on him?

She thought about the previous evening at the therapist's office. The incredible emotion. It welled up again and swept over her.

It's enough. Give the man some space. Thank God he's still in your house. After what you did...

Jennifer felt tired but not sleepy. Mike was not coming.

But he can be here in my thoughts. I can keep the fire burning for him. Besides, it will help me get to sleep.

Parting her robe, Jennifer closed her eyes. Bringing one hand to her mouth, she wet her middle fingers. As she spread her legs and lowered her hand, she whispered his name.

"Yes?"

It took a moment before Jennifer realized the voice was real. She opened her eyes. Mike had snuck into her room. He was standing by the foot of the bed.

"I hate to interrupt something so unbelievably hot, but I'd like to be of assistance."

"Mike! You...I...I'm sorry, I was just...you don't have to—"

"Maybe not," he said, crawling up the bed and nestling between her legs.

"But I want to..."

Jennifer panted with anticipation. When he lowered his head and spread his mouth wide, covering her sex with his lips and tongue, she gasped.

* * *

It was awkward at first, but Mike fought the awkwardness. He focused on what he could see (the contours of her body); on what he could feel (the heat of her skin); on what he could smell (the scent of her arousal); on what he could hear (her gasps); and what he could taste (her moisture). He blocked everything else out.

The old instincts, the old feelings took over...and he found that he wanted it. God Almighty, he wanted to make her feel good. He didn't worry about what it meant, whether it was right, whether it was enough, whether she deserved it, or how he might feel about it later. He just did it.

As he did, he felt his own arousal mount. As his mind remembered things, so did his body. Pleasing her had never been just about her, though he'd reserved some nights for that. No, this also turned him on...made him feel good. He moaned as his hardening cock, still covered by his shorts, plowed into the bed covers.

He didn't try to tease her, but he didn't try to go too fast, either. He didn't try to make her come quickly, just to prove he could still do it. He simply followed her cues, building slowly but steadily towards her release.

He looked up at her. Her eyes were closed. Her breasts slowly rose and fell.

Something between a thought and a feeling struck him. Still licking her, he grasped her hands, raised them...and brought them to her breasts. He flattened her palms against her orbs, circled his hands over them, and withdrew them—leaving hers there.

She hesitated at first, seemingly holding her breath. Then, exhaling with a slight moan, she took her breasts firmly in her hands. As Mike watched, his tongue circling her slit, Jennifer kneaded and caressed her mounds.

In reaction, Mike sped up, narrowing his ministrations to her opening, her clit, and the valley between. Responding, Jennifer began to play with her nipples. Watching it, especially from his vantage point—and with her taste in his mouth—made Mike's cock throb.

They spurred each other on. Mike focused all his tongue-work on Jennifer's clit and slid a finger inside her. Jennifer rolled, pinched and tugged her nipples. They were both moaning loudly. Unable to stop his hips from moving, Mike wondered if he might come before her, right in his shorts.

Then, something else between a thought and a feeling hit him. Trying to keep his tongue on her, he whispered.

"Open your eyes, Jennifer. Look."

It took a moment, but she responded. Lifting her head ever so slightly, she opened her eyes. They fluttered from his eyes to his tongue, then back to his eyes—and locked on. They had never done this before. But then, she had never pleasured her own breasts while he went down on her, either.

"Who do you see?" he asked.

"You..." she gasped. "I see you, Mike...oh god..."

"Say it, baby..."

"It's you...Mike...Mike...MIKE...MIIIIIKE!"

As she climaxed, Mike groaned too. Then, he nuzzled her thighs while her breathing (and his tongue) slowly recovered.

"Do...do you want me to do something for you?" she asked, as he came up beside her.

"You already did," he said, pulling off his wet shorts.

"You...just from..."

"Yeah."

They cuddled. After a short while, Jennifer was on the verge of sleep. Turning her head towards him and mustering a voice, she asked,

"Are...are you going back to your room...to your bed?"

Mike smiled.

"I'm already here."

* * *

Watching a DVD on his computer at home, Peter beamed with delight.

How fortunate that James had saved all the video his cameras had captured! But then, apparently James saved everything. He'd been curious about Peter's request but not reluctant to turn over the video; after all, Peter had paid his fee.

Turns out that was the best $25,000 I ever spent! Joke's on you now, bitch!

The disc contained video captured from several different cameras. Some of the cameras had caught nothing; but some had caught quite a bit. The action was not as good as Peter might have dreamed, but it was far more than he'd expected, based on what Jennifer had said.

The very end...well, that was a mixed bag. Oh well, he would play around with the raw capture and boil it down to something...nice. It wouldn't be difficult; Peter had filmed and edited a few "home movies" in his time.

He had no illusions. Jennifer hated him. Though his new weapon might win his war against her marriage, she would never fall into his arms. If anything, it might bring some heat down on him. Then again, apart from Jennifer's little "fuck you" in her car that night, he'd escaped retribution so far—what did he have to fear?

Besides, he didn't care. Maybe he could never have her, maybe it would get ugly—but nobody fucked with Peter Wombert. And as for the boy scout, well...if Peter couldn't have those tits that Jennifer had flashed, at least he could make sure Mike wouldn't have them either.

Will they give you a merit badge for suicide, scout? And you, my dear bitch...you thought your little stunt with me was so cute. Well, let me introduce you to a real bitch. Her name is...payback!

* * *

For the first time ever, Jennifer was looking forward to her Friday night appointment with Dr. Seymour. She had so much to say. Not just about sex, of course...though the therapist did seem quite interested in that! Oh well, Jennifer was becoming comfortable with the girl talk. She would go into minute detail, if that's what the doctor ordered.

In that same vein, Jennifer was also looking forward to the rest of Friday evening, after the appointment. The parents of one of Mikey's best friends in his class were going to pick him up at school and host him for a sleepover. Jennifer and Mike would have the house to themselves for the first time since...since...

Since that Saturday night before Black Sunday. That night I went out without any underwear, first for my little game with Peter and then to excite Mike. It was the night when Mike finger-fucked me against the door, licked me on the stairs, fucked my pussy and boobs in bed, and took me from behind in the shower. That's going to be a tough act to follow...maybe we should just do it all again!

Jennifer knew she shouldn't presume that their sex life was fully back on track, but she was manic anyway. Besides, during the week, Mike hinted that Jennifer should not be home when he got home from work on Friday. He'd tried to be devious about it, but Jennifer figured it out.

When I come back from the appointment, dinner will be waiting. Well, maybe it will have to wait a long time. Maybe we won't be able to wait...to get naked!

* * *

At long last, Friday came. Mike was at work. It was the middle of the afternoon, and he was watching the clock. The minutes were passing slowly.

He didn't have much to do. He'd just wrapped a project, and he could have gone home early. However, some of his colleagues were quite busy, and he didn't want to look like a slacker by sneaking out.

He had big plans for the night. A candlelight dinner, for one thing—if he could still remember how to cook for Jennifer. Hopefully, it was like riding a bike.

He tried not to imagine possible events beyond dinner, but it was hard to resist. And whenever his thoughts ventured there, something else got hard. It was a terrible embarrassment, waiting to happen.

An hour went by. Jennifer called. "Hi, Mike," she said—with a hint of trepidation.

It reminded Mike that they were still a long way from a complete recovery. Just talking, at this hour on a weekday, was a little strange. For a long time, Mike had made himself off limits to her while at work.

"H-hey," he answered.

"Hey you! Um, so I just got home. I've got, say, forty-five minutes to get myself together, then I'm off to my errands and then Dr. Seymour's. Are you coming home early?"

"Uh...maybe a little...but I'm trying to set an example."

"Aren't you the dedicated employee!"

"Not exactly; I'm just killing time. Maybe I'll...anyway..."

"What?"

I was about to joke, "Maybe I'll find a dedicated female employee who's also looking to kill some time." I used to be able to joke like that with her. She was even worse, doing it to me! Never again, probably...

"Nothing," he said. "You said forty-five minutes?"

"Forty-five minutes and I'm gone. See you tonight!"

"Yeah..."

"Mike?"

"Yeah."

"I love you."

He paused for a second. For a heartbeat. A charged heartbeat that felt strange...then, suddenly, familiar. Sweetly familiar.

"I love you too."

An hour later, he got another call. It was an internal call—from the front desk.

"Mr. Chancey?"

"Yes?"

"This is Reception. There's a delivery here for you. Special courier."

Odd. Not expecting—hmm, is that why she called earlier? Sent something over, and wanted to see if I'd gotten it yet?

"I'll be right there."

* * *

Mike stared at the manila envelope. It had no markings on it, except his name...and the word "Sensitive." If it was from Jennifer, there was no indication. The receptionist had gotten no information from the courier about the sender.

Back at his workstation, Mike opened the envelope. Inside it was a DVD. It was a plain DVD, like a blank one you'd buy in bulk and burn at home. It was labeled with a small printed sticker, which read:

YOUR WIFE

It didn't seem like something Jennifer would send, but who else would have sent it? Mike was intrigued but also little wary. He could pop it into his computer and watch it, but his workstation was not very private. What if Jennifer had put something...racy on the disc?

Right. In my dreams. Still...better safe than sorry!

Mike found an empty office kept for visitors. He closed the door, turned on the computer, and sat down. There was a large window between the office and the hallway, but the computer screen faced away from it.

Private enough. Unless I get another hard-on. Better sit right up under the desk.

As the computer booted up, Mike adjusted the sound. Once the desktop screen came up, he opened the DVD tray and put in the disc. As the DVD player screen launched, Mike hit the "full screen" icon.

He sat back and waiting for the video to start.

* * *

Jennifer arrived at Dr. Seymour's office just as the doctor's previous patient was leaving.

"Good evening, Jennifer," said the good doctor. "You look well tonight!"

"Feeling well!" Jennifer beamed as Dr. Seymour looked her over.

Must be part of her assessment, how she kind of checks me out all the time.

Dr. Seymour's assistant was packing up to leave. "Oh, Doctor," she said, "this arrived during your last appointment. I had to go down to the doorman to get it. He said someone left it for you but didn't want to bring it up."

The assistant handed Dr. Seymour a manila envelope. Handwritten on it were the words:

I GOT THIS AT WORK.

AT MY FUCKING OFFICE!

TELL JENNIFER...I WAS GOING TO MAKE HER DINNER.

Dr. Seymour tucked the envelope under her arm.

"Um, Jennifer...come sit down in my office."

* * *

"Is this Mike's handwriting?" Dr. Seymour asked, putting the envelope down on her desk for Jennifer to see.

Jennifer looked shaken. "Y-yes."

"Did Mike tell you he was sending something over to me?"

"No, I talked to him a little while before I left the house. He didn't say anything."

"Did he sound okay?"

"Yes...he said...we were hanging up, and he said, 'I love you.' And he meant it; I know he did."

Dr. Seymour opened the envelope, pulled out a DVD, and read the label.

"What is it?" asked Jennifer.

The doctor put the DVD down on the desk. "I don't suppose you have any idea?"

Jennifer read the label and shook her head. Dr. Seymour took a deep breath. She had a pretty good idea what it was.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

"Jennifer, I'm afraid we're going to have to cancel your appointment. You need to go home and talk to Mike about this."

"About...I don't know what it is! Should we watch it?"

Dr. Seymour had a TV and a DVD player in her office. Sometimes, she used it to watch her patients' home movies. Having them watch a wedding or a childbirth video, for example, could sometimes work wonders.

But this is no wedding video. Not a childbirth video, either. Nothing of the sort.

They stared at it. It seemed to stare back at them. A simple disc had never looked so ominous.

"Should we watch it?" Jennifer asked again, nervously.

The answer—absolutely no—should have come easily. Dr. Seymour had been asked to watch such things before; usually, by an angry husband wanting to make sure she "appreciated the situation" fully. She had always refused. She'd been taught that it was a bad idea.

But this case...this case is different...it was in my grasp, now it's slipping away...

There was another reason why Dr. Seymour did not watch these things. A personal reason.

I can't watch it. But shit, how I want to! But no...NO.

"Jennifer," she said, pushing the disc towards her. "I can't watch it with you. And I think you need to go home. Right away. Mike must have dropped this off; which means he's seen it. Here's my card...I know you have it already, but I'm putting my home phone number on the back."

Jennifer was shaken. Taking the card and putting it in her purse, she stuttered.

"Wh-what's...do you know..."

"I know enough. Take it."

Jennifer reached out and grasped the disc. Her hand trembled.

"Dr. Sey—Gayle—please, I can't...go home...without..."

Dr. Seymour closed her eyes and squinted. She seemed to be wrestling with a decision. Opening her eyes, she stood up.

"Okay, Jennifer. Okay. I don't think this is a good idea, but okay."

She took the disc, turned on the television and the DVD player, turned the volume down, and started to walk away...towards the door to the waiting room.

"Wh-wh-where are you going?" Jennifer asked, her voice quivering.

"I meant okay, you can watch it. Me, I'm going to wait outside." With that, she stepped into the waiting room and closed the door.

Her heart pounding, Jennifer put the disc in the machine, turned her chair around to face the television, and sat down.

* * *

Sitting in her waiting room, Dr. Seymour heard nothing at first. Then, a sharp gasp. Moments later, a shriek. Then...

"No!"

Crying. Much crying, punctuated by more gasps. There seemed to be some sounds from the TV, but she could not make them out.

More denials. "No...no..."

A blood-curdling scream. Then a tremendous gasp.

"What...where's...where's the rest...NO!!!"

Crying. Shuffling. The sound of a click...something opening?

Silence. Moments of interminable silence.

Dr. Seymour was about get up when the door burst open. Jennifer flew out, tears streaming down her face. She was across the waiting room and through the main door before Dr. Seymour could even get out of her chair.

Stunned, Dr. Seymour entered her office. The television was on, but it was blank. The tray of the DVD player was open. In it rested the DVD.

She left it. She didn't want to touch it, much less take it with her. That bad?

Dr. Seymour reached out to take the disc out of the tray...but paused. She hesitated, arm extended, as her mind raced.

Take it out. Don't watch it. Put it in the file—or throw it away.

"But we have to watch it. We have to know."

Stop. Stop! The firewall, remember? We're still in the office. We're still Dr. Seymour.

"Dr. Seymour, Gayle, whoever! This case...them...we have to know!"

Instead of removing the disc, she pressed a button on the player and watched the tray retract. As the disc began to spin, she sat down behind her desk. The video began to play.

* * *

The first image was of a dark hallway, from above. A door off the hallway opened, inward. There appeared to be a bathroom behind the door.

A woman emerged from the bathroom.

It was Jennifer.

She walked down the hall, out of the camera's view. Then the scene changed. The new image appeared to be that of a living room, in wide-angle view.

A tall man stood with his back to the camera. Jennifer approached him. He hugged her and led her to a couch. She sat down, leaned her head on his shoulders, and cried. Their faces and bodies were in full view.

The man stroked Jennifer's hair. He kissed her forehead. When she did not object, he kissed her forehead again.

Jennifer lifted her head a little. Gently, she kissed the man's neck.

The man kissed Jennifer's forehead again; this time, more sensually. In return, she kissed his neck again.

The man's lips trailed their way down Jennifer's face. He kissed her eyes...her nose...each cheek. Then, his lips approached hers. They hovered, inches away.

Jennifer looked up into his eyes. He looked right back at her. The moment seemed to freeze in the air.

Finally, his lips descended. Jennifer closed her eyes. When their lips met, Jennifer moaned.

The man kissed her thoroughly. It looked like he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Meanwhile, his hand sneaked up her body.

Through her clothes, he caressed her breasts. He seemed to find her nipples. He pulled and tugged on them.

She offered absolutely no resistance.

On the contrary, her hand trailed down his body. She rubbed his crotch, as if feeling his manhood through the rough material of his jeans.