Eliza guessed she dozed off, there was a secret smile inside her when she woke because they had not had to leave as quickly as they had the first time so that she could return to Rafe. She rolled onto her side and relished when he squeezed her simply because he felt her move, easily she maneuvered from under him and out of the bed. On the dresser, she pulled a tissue from its dispenser and moved the used condom that was there. She walked into the bathroom, the cool tiles underneath her feet startling her from the still warm feeling from being with him again.

Oddly she removed the condom from the tissue and looked at it for a moment. Her fingers French manicured as a joke because she was going to Paris, with the thinnest lines of white because she just started to grow her fingernails a few weeks before. She had been a diligent nail biter. Those manicured fingernails caressed the used condom which she tied in a knot. The evidence of what she had done with him, this man who had wrecked her inside even when she did not believe she was ever going to see him again.

One thing that she cared about in this whole affair was that she was safe about it. Rafe deserved that much from her, if nothing else. She knew what Rafe tasted like, what he felt like inside her, bare and warm. She liked it, she had liked everything she thought…

Dumping the condom into the wastebasket, she washed her hands then sat on the toilet and was distracted by sensation of urinating that made her want to have sex all over again. She wondered what exactly was she doing? Why had she done this again when it had wrecked her? Now Paris was not going to be about business, it was going to be about pleasure. Pure pleasure no matter what happened when they walked out of this hotel room, and he walked out of her life for a second time.

Flushing the toilet, and hopefully her emotions, she washed her hands again and walked back into the bedroom. He was lying on his back with one leg up and looked at her.

“Did you bring your restlessness to Paris, cherie?”

Walking as if she was fully clothed at one of her meetings, she crossed her arms and flexed her foot.

“Business brought me to Paris. Was that a question?”

“What is this Jeopardy? Yes, it was a question.”

“I thought there were no questions, no guilt, no rings…”

Her ring was still on.

“I have to know about you now, because I am going to need to know who you are in case you show up in the next city I am in.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said sitting on the edge of the bed. “This was an aventure.”

He pulled her close to him.

“You speak a lot of French don’t you?”

He kissed her and she was sure she was flowed over his body like a waterfall, her sharp words betrayed by her body.

“I have cocktails tonight with some clients, I have to go,” She pulled away slightly.

He released her.

“I have something tonight as well, what are you doing after?”

Eliza studied his face and could not decipher what he was about. What he wanted.

“Is your fiance here?” he continued to question.

She shook her head.

“Are you alone?” she asked him, now that questions were allowed.

He nodded, as he pulled her close to kiss her again. She did not resist, even though she did have to go. When they pulled away, she looked into his eyes posing a question and answering his at the same time.

Cocktails later were a blur, she kept looking at her watch and wondering if it was almost time to return to him. She had two drinks and sipped them laboriously as one of the men at the table tried to flirt with her furiously and she did not want to end up in the mist of another aventure. It seemed that it was true that ever since she had gotten engaged more men seemed to notice her.

Slightly tipsy, she walked out of the restaurant and hailed a cab for the first time in Paris. Delivered to her hotel, because she had a meeting in the morning, she went up to her room and he was already there. His mouth tasted of scotch, and she sucked on his lip to get all the taste of it.

“So how was your meeting Eliza?”

“How do you know my name?”

He pointed the suitcase in the corner with her name tag on it.

Eliza shrugged.

The telephone rang and she ran to it, kicking off her heels.

“Rafe?”

Her conversation with Rafe was as hushed as she could make it, as he walked about the room pretending to be distracted.

“I love you too,” she whispered and then hung up the phone. “You do not have to pretend to be distracted, the conversation is over.”

He turned around,

She rushed over to him, placed her hand on his chest.

“What is your name?”

“Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name…”

His smile was broad as he quoted the Rolling Stones’ song lyrics.

“You are the devil,” she concurred. “You are…”

She closed her eyes and the special darkness of his kiss commanded her life and she wrapped a leg about him. Tipsy and full of need, she did not care what this devil’s name was for the moment.

Find more Wicked Wednesday here:

photo by f dot leonora