Tunnel of Love Pt. 03

After a long silence, Mike spoke. "You'll do okay, Collette. You'll find someone better."

Collette shrugged. "I don't worry so much about finding someone. The problem is that the ones to be found...well, the good ones are taken."

She took Mike's bowl, placed it in hers, and went to the kitchen.

* * *

"Sorry for that interruption," Peter said, returning to the dining room. "I just had to check on something. Let's have dessert."

As they started in, Peter couldn't wait any longer.

"Jen, I'm so glad you're here. I hope you're not worried about Mike or feeling guilty. You certainly have no reason. I'm afraid Mike has shown his true colors, finally."

The mention of Mike's name startled Jennifer. She looked at Peter apprehensively.

"You see, Jen, I just checked up on his whereabouts. I have the resources, as you know. Anyway, Mike and your son are spending the evening at 512 Cottonwood Avenue, which I understand is the home of a lovely blonde divorcée named Collette Davis." Peter nearly squealed at the look that passed over Jennifer's face when he mentioned the blonde's name and address. Perhaps they meant something to her? Peter could not believe his luck.

That's right, my dear, think that you've lost him forever. Perhaps you have! So now, what do you have left to fight for? To be faithful to? When your body is on the verge of orgasm, what will be left of your heart and mind to stop it?

"I'm sorry, Jen," Peter said, placing a hand on Jennifer's bare thigh. It was one of the things he liked about the small table: it kept his dates within easy reach. Despite a slight hint of discomfort at his first touch, Jennifer voiced no objection.

As they ate and sipped an expensive Port, Peter continued, slowly caressing her skin. By the time they finished dessert, Jennifer's eyes were half-closed, her breathing deep. Peter sensed that she was giving up; that it was time to make his next move.

* * *

Mike and Collette were putting Mikey and Bobby to bed. Mike had brought in a sleeping bag and pad from his car. They were in Bobby's room, reading a story—one of the Harry Potter books.

Mike and Collette took turns voicing some of the characters. The two boys loved it. Mike noticed that when he was reading, Collette also watched him closely; raptly, even.

Eventually the lights went out, and Mike and Collette went back downstairs. While Collette made coffee, Mike wandered into the dining room and stared at the old photograph of the Davis family. It brought to mind a lyric.

Spare parts / and broken hearts Keep the world turnin' / around

Bobby and Mikey, Collette and Mike...spare parts, and broken hearts. But the world keeps turning, Mike thought, as he joined Collette in the kitchen.

"So," she said, "if you don't mind me asking...how are you doing?"

Like Collette, Mike was hesitant to talk about himself. If anyone would understand, however, perhaps it would be her. And, she'd opened up to him; it would only be fair...

"I'm...terrible. That's how I am: terrible. I think I have my mind made up about something, then I'm not sure. I have moments where I think everything could be okay, like I just had a bad dream...then I actually have a bad dream, and it makes me think nothing could possibly be okay again..."

"Do you...um...have a plan...for what you're going to do?"

"Well, I...saw a lawyer this week. I've even got a divorce petition all drafted."

"Wow. I'm really sorry, Mike. Is it really that...I mean, when you told me last week that you'd moved out, that Jennifer had cheated on you...it just seems so unbelievable. Are you really sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I got a video, Collette. At my office, a damn video of her at this guy's apartment, kissing him...and more."

Collette winced.

"And that's not all. There were lies, omissions... The thing is, she swears it's over, that she wants to stay together, that she loves me, but how can that be true? Why should I believe any of that?

"Plus, even if that's truly how she feels now, why should I trust things to stay that way? How can someone go off the rails, fall into a gutter like that, and not fall in again? Don't they say, 'Once a cheater, always a cheater?'

"And even if I could trust her, what would be the point? How could I forgive her—and even if I could, how could I forget? I think about what she did with him, and it turns my stomach. Like she's used goods, and I'd be getting sloppy seconds."

Mike noticed that Collette had begun to sob.

This cuts close to the bone, I guess. The cheating...she had it even worse, it sounds like. And—no... No! Was it...what I said about the gutter?

That's where Collette was, and I'm telling her...sooner or later, she'll be back there? Once a slut, always a slut? Once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic? That no one could trust her, or want her? That she's used goods, sloppy seconds?

"Collette, I'm sorry...I didn't mean that you..."

Collette's sobs became a torrent of crying.

"Collette, please," Mike said, leaning over...and taking her hand. "Listen, you made some mistakes, but you were a victim. Nobody should hold anything against you. You're taking responsibility for your life, you're doing the right things now, and..."

Should I say it? Maybe not, but the way she's looking at me... No one before Jennifer ever looked at me like that.

"Look, Collette...I think you're very beautiful. I think you've gotten more attractive since you...cleaned up your act, as you said. And you're not boring. You're growing, changing, maturing. A man would be a fool not to be interested in that."

Collette's sobs ebbed. A smile broke out on her face. In her eyes, even.

Jennifer looked at me like that when I asked her to marry me.

Jennifer...shit, everything I just said to Collette—could it apply to Jennifer too? Jennifer wasn't a virgin when we met. I wasn't either. We were both "used goods," if that's what having sex with someone else makes you. That didn't stop us from dating, having sex, or getting married...

But no, there's a difference. Collette didn't fuck around while she was married. And Collette was a victim. Yeah, she could have handled it better, but it could have been worse, too. And there's something...worthy...about her, the way she tells the unvarnished truth, the way she's learned from her experience, the way she's changing.

Despite his lofty thoughts, Mike was noticing earthier things about Collette. Things like her lips, the line of her neck, the shape of her breasts. She was the most beautiful woman, other than Jennifer, that he'd spent time alone with since he'd been married—maybe ever.

She's listening to me, looking at me...

That night, at the fundraiser, maybe that wasn't just alcohol talking.

"That was a great dinner," Collette said, interrupting Mike's thoughts. "I should just tidy up a bit."

"I'll help."

"Gosh no, you've done enough—"

"Hey, I don't just make messes. I help clean them up. Full-service is what you get."

Mike smiled as he caught Collette blushing at his last remark.

* * *

"I hope you enjoyed the dinner," Peter said to Jennifer as he eased out of his chair. "Now why don't we top off our glasses before we move on?" He gestured towards the wine bar in the room. "Ladies first..."

Stepping down from her chair, Jennifer strode over to the counter. She poured some wine into her glass, then set the glass and bottle down as Peter approached her from behind. Before she could move away to make room for him, Peter pressed his body against her. He felt an amazing rush.

Finally, Jen, you're here with me. Alone. As it was meant to be.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran them down and up her arms. Jennifer stiffened but took no action to stop him. Then he brought his hands to her neck and up to her face. He tilted her head slightly, leaned his head in, and kissed her below the ear. His hands fell to her waist and caressed her hips.

Jennifer startled but again offered no resistance. Peter wondered if it would really be this easy. He didn't want it to be; he'd long since abandoned any delusions of getting Jennifer to fall in love with him and live happily ever after together. No, he wanted to use her for a while, then throw her away. He wanted defile her.

To do that, he needed to put some fear into her. He needed to cast off his soft cloak of warmth and kindness and reveal his true self. The more he thought about it, the more aroused he became.

Why did I ever want to make her love me, to give herself to me happily? This will be so much better. Yes, time for a little dominance game. Then, her submission will be sweet indeed.

"Hold very still, Jen," he whispered in her ear.

Bending at the knees, Peter lowered himself, dragging his hands down Jennifer's hips as he did. When his hands reached her thighs, they reversed course. Bringing his hands up under the hem of her short dress, he felt his way to the narrow bands of her underwear on her hips. Hooking his fingers under them, he slowly lowered her panties, all the way to her ankles.

Along the way, Peter's hands grazed her inner thighs. They felt moist. He smiled, imaging how wet her pussy must be. Perhaps he'd misjudged her; perhaps James had done more damage than he'd thought.

Yes, you're just like any other woman now, Jen. Unable, as all others have been, to resist me. This isn't the way I used to imagine it...but it's better! More real, somehow. More me.

Taking her ankles, he lifted one foot—then the other—until her feet were free of the tangled underwear. In so doing, he spread her legs wide. Then, rising, he ran his hands up her gorgeous calves, tight thighs, and fine ass.

Pressing against her again, Peter placed on hand around her waist and another on her shoulder. He nuzzled her neck and cheek. She was sure, he thought, to feel the heat coming off his skin and notice his fine cologne—not that garbage that most men wore, but a few dabs from a tiny bottle that cost a thousand dollars. A scent that had always drawn compliments from women fortunate enough to get close enough to him to catch it.

Jennifer's eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. While Peter studied her luscious lips, he could hear and feel her excited breathing. He brought his own lips just behind her ear and whispered.

"You're going to come, Jen."

Jennifer trembled. Her closed eyelids fluttered. She inhaled and exhaled sharply.

I can't imagine the boy scout has ever fucked you in the ass, Jen. Or that you would have let anyone before him do it, either. Well, Jen, I think that's how it's going to be. I'm going to take you from behind...in your virgin ass. After I do many other things, of course.

As Peter continued to touch her, Jennifer continued to tremble. Her breathing had reduced to short, little gasps.

"Yes, come. I'm very good, Jen. I'm going to take it slow and work you up to it. You'll be ready for it; in fact, though you'll deny it, you're going to want it."

Jennifer was shaking now and panting. Her hands shifted, moving up the counter, as if her legs were getting weak and she needed support. Peter looked down her dress at her heaving, unrestrained breasts. His cock throbbed as he discovered that her nipples were erect.

I'm afraid it may hurt a little at first, Jen—but only a little, and only at first. Then, you won't believe how it feels. After everything I'm going to do to you to get you ready, my cock in your ass is going to feel fucking incredible. And when I start playing with your clit...

Jennifer gasped as Peter's hand came to the center of her waist and began to travel downward.

"You're not going to be able to help it," he whispered. "Fighting it will only make it stronger when it happens. And it is going to happen, Jen—I assure you. I have much practice with this, and I know things about women's bodies that they do not know themselves. Until they find out, of course...and you are going to find out."

Peter's dick was so hard, pressed up against Jennifer's ass, he thought it might slice through her. For a moment, he thought to take her right then, right there—she was so ready! But no, he had other plans. He'd waited so long for a night like this; he could wait a little longer, to make it perfect.

And get it on film. For my own enjoyment, of course...but why not share? Maybe I'll send the boy scout another present. I'm disappointed that he hasn't killed himself by now.

Peter imagined Jennifer, unknowingly facing a camera, crying through a forced orgasm as he rammed her from behind.

Or maybe it won't be so forced. Maybe she will beg. I shouldn't underestimate myself...or her.

"Let's go upstairs, Jen. You know the way."

* * *

Collette was amazed as Mike helped clear the table.

Richard never gave me the slightest help with dinner, before or after. None of those losers I threw myself at would have done this either. They'd be too impatient to get into my pants...can't blame them, I usually let them. I was so thankful that anyone would even spend time with me, and so hopeful they'd take a shine to Bobby. What a waste of time. What a waste of myself.

But this guy...he can bring home the bacon, and fry it up in the pan, and then wash the fucking pan? Hmmm, what do you let a guy like that do to you? Anything he wants, maybe...

Shit, Collette, stop daydreaming, and stop taking advantage of this man! Is this what Jennifer made him do? What a poor reward she gave him.

"That's great, Mike, just leave the dishes on the counter. I'll wash up in the morning. You've done more than enough already."

Mike smiled.

God, this man can light me up with a smile!

"Wash up in the morning?" he said, rolling his eyes. "That's a lousy thing to look forward to, going to bed on a Friday night. Even lousier to wake up to it. Take it from me, I've been the Friday night cook and Saturday morning maid a lot."

Mike opened the dishwasher and started to load a plate, but Collette stopped him.

"Um, Mike...the dishwasher...it's broken. Been broken for...well, just one of those things I could never seem to get around to. That was one thing Richard was good for, actually—handyman stuff."

"Well, I can't claim that I'm handy with fixing dishwashers, but I'm pretty handy at washing dishes. Set the record, I think, at the last pack camp-out...and that was what, twenty kids? This'll take no time at all."

While he was talking, Mike found a sponge and the dishwashing liquid. Before Collette could protest, the water was running and the first dish was under it, getting a good scrubbing.

You're going to let him do it, aren't you! Okay, Collette, you bitch...rationalize it ...um, if we get this done now, I won't have to do it in the morning and...I'll have time to make a hell of a breakfast instead! If he doesn't insist on doing that, too...wait, Mike's not going to be here for breakfast, it's not his sleepover...

Collette suddenly felt flush.

Ooh. Oh god, that felt...you stop that, my pretty pussy! You're not getting fed tonight. Now let me concentrate and help with this before he does it all himself.

Mike washed. Collette dried. As dishes passed, their fingers touched. Arms too. While they washed, they talked...and here and there, a hand would fall on a shoulder, a back, a waist...just to emphasize a point, of course.

Despite the admonition she'd given her "kitty," Collette's flush had not gone away. In fact, it was growing. And despite Mike's boast about his dishwashing speed, the wash was taking a while. Collette found it harder and harder to keep her composure. She was starting to say stupid things again, as she'd done on the phone the day before.

Eventually, everything was washed and dried. Collette assumed that would be the end of it, and she was amazed at how she felt. To be disappointed that the dishes were done!

"Not done yet!" Mike said. "Let's put this stuff away. I'll pass, you place."

Okay, Collette, you need to say no. Are you going to make him vacuum, too? Send this man home already, you bitch! Send him home...

Home...

Home? He doesn't have a home. Is that why he's still here? He'll clean this whole house if you let him, won't he? Anything, not to have to go back to that hotel...alone...

"Okay, Mike...quietly, though. We don't want to wake those munchkins."

Collette moved over towards the cabinets, which were on the adjacent wall. Mike took her place by the drying rack. As Mike passed the dry dishes, their fingers met again...and again. His shoulder grazed hers. Their hips, their thighs, even their rear ends touched. Now, along with flushed, Collette felt a little tingly too.

Once the plates and silverware were put away, the glasses remained. Some of them belonged on a high shelf. Collette leaned against the counter and elevated on her toes, but she was having trouble reaching. She was about to go get a footstool, when Mike noticed and came up behind her.

With his left hand, Mike reached around her, to the counter, and grabbed the glass. As he did so, his hand and arm grazed her waist. Lifting the glass, he reached over her head. His chest pressed against her back.

Collette felt very flush indeed now. Her heart started to beat rapidly. She felt her blood flowing...probably towards her various knobs and buttons, she thought. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself, but it only made things worse.

Mike reached around her for another glass. This time, as he leaned in to put the glass on the shelf, he put his other hand—his right hand—on her hip. Just to balance himself, or...? Collette wondered, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to think. She felt lightheaded.

Mike reached around for a third glass, drawing closer to her this time. Lightly, but definitely, his whole body was pressed against her now. His right hand was still on her hip; though maybe it had crept up and around, a little, towards her waist?

As Mike put the third glass on the shelf, Collette felt the warmth coming off his neck and face. She didn't think her own skin could feel any hotter, but suddenly it did. And, she caught his scent for the first time. No artificial chemicals—just a clean, natural, man's scent.

So it went, Mike putting away the glasses and Collette trying not to swoon, until one glass remained. When Mike reached around for it, Collette quivered, her legs feeling weak. Trying to cover up, she reached for the glass herself and grasped it. "Th-this one goes up h-here," she stuttered, her lips and tongue feeling swollen.

Collette raised the glass but again wasn't tall enough, flat-footed, to place it on the shelf. As she started to lift on her toes, Mike wrapped his left hand around the glass...and partly around her hand. Collette closed her eyes and managed, just barely, to suppress a gasp.

"I've got it," Mike whispered, his lips close to her ear. He took the glass while her arm remained extended. Collette found that she couldn't move. Mike's arm slid over hers as he put the glass on the shelf. His right hand seemed to have crept even farther around her body; it was now squarely on her waist.

Eyes still closed, Collette trembled. Her heart pounded. Her breath was coming in short gasps. Mike's left hand now joined hers, still extended above her head and resting lightly against the shelf.

Collette waited for what seemed like an eternity for him to continue what he'd started. She wanted it, badly. But Mike seemed to hesitate; or else, he was drawing out her torment.

God help me, he's married...but I'm dying...I can barely stand. What's he waiting for? Kiss me, Mike...your lips are right there, by my neck...your right hand, move it north...or south...oh god, kiss me, please!

Collette knew she could tip the scales and decide whatever Mike was weighing—or end whatever game he was playing. She could take his hand, place it on her breast, and lust would overcome him. That move had never failed before.