Candy-Coated and Compromised

Word Count 864

Alison took the narrow turn off the county road and felt her throat tighten as she started down the long gravel drive. The tires slipped and spun on pockets of ice and she had the odd sense that the car was laboring under her hands, fighting the progress like a swimmer caught up in a sudden riptide. This time would be different. This time she would leave with her dignity intact. She did not have to be the other woman. She would not. She repeated the words in her head and then out loud like a mantra.

The lake house looked dark when she finally pulled up alongside it. As she extracted herself and make her way up the walk to the door she saw flickers of light in the deeper darkness. Candles, she realized and felt her stomach lurch. She reached under the mat, retrieved the key and let herself in from the cold.

The foyer was empty but the house felt warmed and she smelled the cedar wood fire. “In here”, a voice beckoned and she gravitated toward it, already feeling the tug of a familiar ache.

She entered the great room at the back of the house. The fire was raging inside the old stone fireplace, casting shadows on the steel and copper sculptures that dominated the room. She did not need to be the other woman, but she knew with every fiber of her being how badly she wanted to be.

Ella was standing at the mantle, her slender hand wrapped around a wine glass filled to the brim with a red blend as dark as blood. She turned and smiled at Alison, her beautiful full mouth painted the viper red she favored. Alison felt her breath still and her body clench with a sudden and powerful desire that registered on her every nerve ending like the most exquisite pain. Ella stood there in the firelight, naked under a sheer white robe. Her dark waves pooled down across her shoulders, the creamy white of her complexion gleamed like porcelain. Every perfect curve of her body was visible, her nipples strained against the flimsy fabric, hard and caramel-colored. Alison was riveted as much by her guilt as she was by her lust for this woman, the wife of her closest and dearest friend. She had come here to break it off, for once and for all. Seeing Ella, exposed and looking every bit like candy-coated sin, Alison was mortally weakened in her resolve.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Alison started, determined at least, to try. She shrank back as Ella came toward her, her arms extended. If she touches me, it’s all over.

“You don’t mean that.” Ella insisted, closing the distance between them with two strides of her powerful legs.

Her feet were bare and her steps were soundless, sinking into the soft white shag. Ella’s toes were painted glossy black and Alison felt her heart beating as if it was free and not safely inside her body. Ella’s hands slipped inside her coat, easing it off her and onto the floor. She tried to protest as Ella unbuttoned her dress but as soon as her soft hands made contact with her flesh, Alison melted. It had begun again, despite all reasoning, all those hours of preparation and planning. The very moment Ella’s fingertips made contact with her skin she was once again hers, morality and consequence be damned.

Alison gave Ella her mouth, allowing her kisses that felt laced with fire to consume her. She gave Ella her body, let her strip her down in front of the fire like a long-awaited present, unwrapped tortuously slow. She gave Ella her control, submitted to every tease and torture she wanted, over and over until her skin was slick with sweat and her moans gave way to the guttural shrieks and curses that Ella’s performance demanded. Only after Ella’s ego had been sated, did Alison give Ella her shame, crawling across the floor, her knees wearing tracks in the carpet, to beg her for release. She knew Ella was reveling in the conquest, smiling with triumph, even as she pressed her mouth to Alison’s dripping sex.

Later there would be cautious talk of how hurt Scott would be if he ever found out. Absolution would be granted and promises made. Alison knew how delicate those promises were, how easily the resolve to do the right thing could be derailed with one touch, with one glimpse of perfectly painted toes. She knew how the knowledge of their betrayal would rip into Scott’s soul and leave ugly wounds that time would never heal. She knew all this and still she stayed, not willing to pull away, to give up these moments of lying next to Ella in the firelight, their cooling flesh still pressed together as if joined by forces of nature.

Alison raised her head from the ripeness of Ella’s breasts to speak but before she could form the words, the sound of the footfalls and
Scott’s confused, “Alison?” seemed horrifically amplified in the darkness.

Now it will finally be over, she thought as a wave of inexplicable relief poured over her.