The Indigo Letter

         The indigo letter on the fridge began with one bleak word; a word that he had come to know to mean bitter sincerity. It was his name, Daniel.

         The moment he had arrived at their condo, it had occurred to him that something was wrong. It was a familiar smell that raged through the doorway. An amiable smell, but starkly out of place. His eyes swept the room swiftly. The comforting confirmation of his wife. Chopping board on the counter, spattered water in the sink, beige shopping bag beside the counter, a folded letter held to the fridge with a magnet – a letter he knew would be addressed to him, from her. Juliana. Still, though, the place seemed empty. Entering the condo, he called her name. Nothing. His sense of apprehension was confirmed in the bedroom, where he found a neatly made-up bed, empty bedside tables, an open window. Cold, almost abrasive air on his arms. After relieving his suitcase from his shoulder, he slid the window closed and spoke her name once more, this time softly; the sound of his voice was absorbed quickly. The subtleties and resultant silence seemed to be telling him with cool, condescending words that he was alone.

         After reading the letter, he found himself in the bathroom with the taste of resentment in his mouth, wrought with anger and uncertainty. In a span of a minute, his home had become unfamiliar, unpleasant. In an attempt to ascertain his next move he discovered that there was no next move. There was only defeat; two years of marriage and now, a painfully rapid regression succeeded by an empty and meaningless check-mate, confirmed by a little indigo letter that was beset with lips-shaped watermarks. Once again, that familiar yet unnerving smell pervaded the air. With a surge of emotion, a thought came to mind. It didn’t take long before he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and began to type. ‘Alison, I need to see you.’ Several months ago, he had resolved to never contact Alison again, and had removed her from his life, his mind, his conscience. Of course, she never strayed far from his thoughts, and as the months passed he found it increasingly difficult to not have her again under his hold, naked. Now, it was all that he craved. Had he not committed her number to memory, he would have been on his way to her apartment. He added to the message, ‘Meet me at Rascal’s, Danny,’ and after a moment’s hesitation it was sent. More than ever, it felt like betrayal.

         Looking around, he saw only evidence of himself. Blue shaving foam and an idle toothbrush beside the basin, an empty bottle of For-Men body wash in the shower, an attractive and intimidating man in the mirror, staring back at him sharply. But his suit now made him look thin and awkward, the stubble on his face made him look messy and nervous, and the grey tie around his neck made him seem shorter. What’s wrong with this mirror, he thought, resisting the urge to break it. Alison’s reply startled him; knowing it was her, and that the mere thought of her had up until now been prohibited by his conscience made his pulse pound even more – daunting excitement that was dispersed as soon as he read it. ‘You were supposed to delete my number. Don’t ever contact me again. Alison.’

*

         A little over two hours later, Danny was approached by a stranger. “What happened to you?” she asked. By now it was dark and the street outside the bar was busy with noisy, human traffic. Her voice was as calm as it was confident. Danny shook his head and spoke.

         “One for every year,” he said softly to himself, taking his glass off the bar and finishing it.

         “How many drinks have you had so far?”

         “Only two.”

         At that she smiled, saying, “Well then it’s been only two years. That’s not so bad. May I join you?”

         “No.” His answer was quick. “Two years of my life, now wasted. Futile. That is bad.”

         “I take it you’ve recently come out of a relationship with your girlfriend?”

         “Yes,” he stated. “Very recently. And she’s my wife.”

         “And I take it you could do with some consolidation?”

         For the first time, he looked at her and saw that her face was soft, beautiful and as calm as her voice. Her dark hair was long and so unlike Juliana’s. “What kind of consolidation?” he asked.

         “Well, I’ll start by buying you your next drink,” she said, signaling the barman. “And then you’ll tell me about what a bitch your girlfriend is. And then,” she came closer and whispered in his ear, “we’ll go to your place and have vengeful sex in your bed. That kind of consolidation.”

         Danny’s heart and mind were racing at her words. To have sex with a beautiful woman now, after the confrontation with Alison left him even more alone than Juliana’s break-up, was exactly what he wanted. But despite her beauty, her confidence and her casual approach to sex – something he was not at all used to – he could not help but doubt her.

         “Why?” he asked. “Women always have very specific motives. Hidden motives. The beautiful ones especially. This seems a little forward for a woman like you.”

         By now, she had taken her jacket off and was sitting beside him. His eyes were drawn to her neckline. After a moment’s thought she answered. “You’re a clever guy. Yes, my motives are nothing short of specific, I’m not going to lie. My proposition to you, though, is to hide nothing; to put my motives out on the table in plain sight for you to scrutinize. How’s that?”

         “Okay,” Danny did not hesitate. “Let me hear it.”

         “Firstly, I could use the company. My date stood me up, I don’t like that I dressed up for nothing and I don’t like sitting alone. When I’m alone at a bar I get attention that I don’t want or need. Secondly, I’ve been watching you since you came in and I must say, you’ve piqued my curiosity. What’s with that letter in your hand and the grim suit? And then there’s the fact that even though you look like shit, you’re the most attractive guy in this bar. You’ve got those dimples, those eyes. And I’m quite shallow, really. Lastly, and probably of least importance, I haven’t had sex in four months.” Wow, Danny thought. This girl is good. She’s good-looking too. Really good-looking. And she’s into me. He imagined what it would be like to hold her breasts in his hands, to touch her thighs. It was good enough for him. “Still interested?” she finished.

         With a well-earned smile, he answered her question. “What’s your name?”

         “Amy.”

         “Hi. I’m Danny. Or Daniel, but I hate being called Daniel. You’re really assertive; I like it.” He stood up and motioned to move. “So I have an idea. In the spirit of being bold, why don’t we cut the heart-to-heart and move straight to the point? Sex.”

         “Hold it,” she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, making him sit back down. “That’s not how it works.”

         “No?”

         “You’ve got to give me a little something first, Danny. Give a little, get a little. In fact, give a little get a lot. Tell you what, if I get my story you can do whatever you want to me. But I want details.”

         “Okay,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Just a couple of hours ago, I got home and my wife broke up with me in this letter, said that she’s not happy and that she wants a divorce. Then I found out that she’s fucking a friend of mind. And naturally, I’m here now. Drinking. Fuck my life.”

         “More.”

         “I don’t feel like talking more.” He really didn’t.

         To this she leaned closer, inadvertently allowing him a glimpse of her cleavage. “You can do whatever you want to me,” she whispered slowly. “Anything. You. Want.” He wasn’t entirely sure if she was wearing a bra. He wanted to kiss her right there; he wanted to touch her neck. I know she won’t let me touch her now. She has a point to prove, and maybe she’s even a little interested in my life, my wife, me. Never had a woman so quickly had an effect of such magnitude on him. She retracted, and he decided to bite.

         “I’ll start at the beginning then.”

         “Always a good place to start,” she smiled, holding up glass of whiskey to match his.

         “As you know now, I’ve been with my wife for two years. Her name is Juliana. Since we’re being open, I’ll tell you everything.” The words felt strange coming from his mouth, because it was so unlike him to tell, let alone tell everything. "Nevertheless", he continued. “About a year ago I met a girl called Alison, a girl that I started seeing. I never loved her, it was only casual. And by casual I mean sex. When I wanted it, when she wanted it. I never fell in love with her and we never even kissed, but I started to get bored with my marriage. Juliana also became someone different, or maybe she just saw the change in me. She stopped cooking her meals, she stopped dressing up. All I wanted was to see Alison, and the more I saw her, the more of a wreak Juliana grew. It ended about six months ago, when I got caught out. As expected, our marriage almost fell through. I stopped seeing Alison and then I moved out. It took several agony-filled months before Juliana was able to forgive me. I moved back in, and we were happy again.” Danny took a large sip. “At least I was.” He was beginning to feel the alcohol work on his mind, slowly. “Fast forward to today. As soon as I came home I felt uneasy. I’d been away since Monday, so Juliana and I were going to go out tonight. But she wasn’t there, and the place had this strange, sweet smell. A smell I recognized, but couldn’t place. Juliana used to write me notes and post them on the fridge. Of the two of us, she’s more of an introvert, so putting down her emotions on paper was easy, convenient. I love that about her. Sometimes they were sentimental, sometimes raunchy, but always long and full of detail. Today, her letter was neither. Short, but not so sweet. I checked the cupboards – her clothes were gone. Her books were gone. Her photographs were gone. The only material scrap of her was an empty shopping bag from Willard’s. In it, there was a receipt for a very expensive, red dress. Of course, my first instinct was to see Alison. I messaged her, but she told me to fuck off. Just like I had told her to fuck off. I didn’t care; I had to see her. So I went to her apartment on Yake Street. As soon as she opened the door I knew. She looked amazing, all dressed up with a glass of wine in hand. She smelt amazing too. I recognized the smell. She was wearing a smoking hot, red dress. The expensive one from Willards.”

         “Ouch.”

         Danny shrugged. “Yes. Juliana and Alison. More than that I don’t want to say. I sort of lost it. It got ugly. I got ugly.”

         “Can I read it?”

         Danny shook his head. “Maybe later.” He then kissed her, placing his hand on her neck and drawing her in. She did not struggle. Her neck was as smooth as her lips. It felt as though the bar and its habitants had come to a standstill; Danny could no longer hear the jazz chords emanating from overhead speakers, the chatter of exultant crowds. She tastes so good, he thought.

         “I just have one more question,” Amy managed to say.

         “Yes?”

         “Well,” she pronounced slowly, tugging on the collar of his shirt. “I just can’t seem to figure out why you’re still wearing this stiff jacket, this ugly tie, this buttoned-up shirt. I’m dying to know what’s underneath.”

         “Why don’t I show you?” he whispered, releasing her soft upper lip from his. Looking up, he noticed that the barman was watching them. It was time to go.

*

         Amy and Danny were in his bedroom, fully clothes, kissing passionately. The first thing that came off was his jacket, then his tie and his shoes. She unbuttoned his shirt and slid her hand onto his chest. “Wow Danny,” she said, as her fingers went over his nipple and then down to his stomach. “I feel muscle. I knew there was more to you than just a pretty face.” His shirt came off and she pushed him forcefully onto the bed.

         “And I had no idea there was more to you. You’re pretty wild for a brunette, for a gorgeous brunette.”

         “Oh, you think I’m gorgeous? But you haven’t even seen me naked.” She was playing teasingly with the straps of her dress. “Would you like to see me naked?”

         “Yes.” He was aching for some sort of glimpse.

         “Well then I want you to do something for me. I want you to take off your pants.” Danny complied. The bulge in his underwear was hard; he felt exposed lying on the bed half-naked, but liked it. It had been a while since he’d gotten this kind of attention. Amy went on. “Now, I want you to slide your hand into your boxer-briefs and play with yourself as you watch me.”

         What followed was the most sensual strip-tease he had ever experienced. As he pleasured himself with long, steady motions, Amy began to undress while dancing slowly, sexily. She lifted her black dress to her knees, and then to her hips, but did not let him see her underwear. Danny began to stroke faster, and when her dress finally came off, he almost had to stop himself. Amy stood in the dim light, wearing only a black g-string. Her breasts were round and just the right size. Her stomach was smooth. Her body was perfect.

         And then she was on him, and his hands on her. She was kissing his neck, his chest, sliding her hand down his abs and over the tight bulge beneath his boxer-briefs. Next thing he knew, she was giving him a hand-job while teasing his nipples with her tongue. Pleasure swelled like never before as his hands caressed her soft back, her ass. The scent of her hair was fresh and sexy, and he loved how it tickled his face. Then she moved down and the closer her lips got to his crotch, the harder he became and the harder she squeezed. Never before had someone other than himself handled his shaft so well. His underwear came off, but her lips did not touch his member. In fact, she placed subtle kisses everywhere except where he really wanted it. “Please,” he said. “Suck me.”

         “More.”

         “More what?”

         “More insistence. More detail. More desire.”

         She really is good, he thought. “Please, Amy. Suck my dick, lick my balls. They haven't been touched in so, god-damned long.”

         She complied, giving it her all. As his muscles began to stiffen, he began to emit sharp, rapid breaths. It wasn't long before he could feel the surge of energy gathering at the base of his penis, drawing sparks of pending satisfaction from the nerves in his heart, his thighs, his arms, and it was then that she stopped, drawing his climax to a close. It wasn’t painful, but it was agony. “You should come inside me,” she reasoned.

         Danny was on top of her, kissing her neck and holding her breast in his hand, kissing her hard nipples and licking them, sucking them, while his other hand explored her body, coming to rest between the lips of her vagina. Soon he was flicking her clitoris with his tongue while two fingers entered her, exploring. It was the first time that Danny could hear Amy produce subtle groans, and it prompted him to lick harder, pressing his tongue against her until she moaned. The moaning persisted and began to grow with volume.

         Danny brought Amy to climax, immediately pulled on a condom, and entered her with his penis. He thrusted; she dug her fingers into his back. Her breasts bounced loosely; his muscles tensed, revealing new contours. They kissed with passion; they groaned together. He began to sweat; she began to touch him in other amazing places. For the second time, Danny could feel the assembly of ecstasy in his groin. With each powerful thrust, the image of Juliana and Alison fled further back into his mind. Suddenly, he had an urge to say something.

         “Amy.”

         She was frowning with pleasure. “Danny?” she managed to say.

         “Can I ask you something?” he panted.

         “Ask me anything.”

         He was about to come. “How does it feel to be the rebound girl?”

         “That’s the thing,” she said. “I don’t think I am."

         With that, Danny came with Amy. And then it was dark.