Paramour
Paramour
By Lindsay F.
Isabel ran her hands through his honeyed curls, arching her back a bit, drowning in a pool of ecstasy. The first moan had been feigned, for her nerves and self consciousness forbade her handing herself entirely over to Jasper’s charms. But the second bottle of Veuve Clicquot, now sweating on the nightstand, had begun to take hold. The next moan was quite legitimate, but interrupted by the chilling sound of the front gate at the end of the driveway. He was home. Several moments passed, Isabel stunned at her own plan. Lost under the sheets and between her thighs, Jasper hadn’t heard the car rolling over the loose gravel just outside the window. Isabel lay still for a moment, cold with fear. She’d planned this, after all- why the sudden shock?
Of course she hadn’t consulted Jasper. As powerful as he was, he’d always been terrified of consequences. It was true, she loved both men. The question as to which would make her happy was silly to her. She could obviously be happy with either Andon or Jasper. The issue was the degree of her happiness- and Jasper’s. And Andon’s, for that matter. What suddenly occurred to her, as if for the first time, was the pain she was about to inflict on her poor husband. Sweet, simple Andon. He’d never have suspected.
The sound of footsteps on the hard wood hallway floor sent Isabel’s heart pounding as though it would burst through her bare chest. It took only an instant after a plan that had taken days to change her fickle mind. In a sudden flurry of sheets and sticky, delicious sweat, she’d pushed Jasper from the bed, and signaled him to him underneath. Used to potential trouble, he did it with great ease, looked to her eyes in a shared second of panic, and was under the enormous bed in an instant. His toned, yet slim body just fit. Andon was right outside the door. In one graceful movement, Isabel stood, panting, and swept her sheer robe around her shoulders. She raced to the door, swallowed hard, and opened it just before Andon’s hand reached the antique knob.
“My love! I am so glad you’re home. You look absolutely famished! You simply must come with me to the kitchen, Gertrude has made the most spectacular dinner.”
Andon smiled at the goddess he was married to. How fortunate a man he was. He kissed her throat, naïve to the scent of another man all over her body. “Why are you so warm, darling?”
“Oh, yes, isn’t it hot? I tried our window but it seems to be jammed. No matter. Come, let’s go to the kitchen. I’m just starving, aren’t you?”
Andon nodded, grinned, tossed his small leather bag onto the bed from the doorway, and put his arms around his wife.