Persephone in Winter
                          


                                Chapter 5


He woke slowly, first to the constant hiss and sizzle, then to the
familiar smell of bacon, teasing him from his sleep with a hint of a
perfect breakfast made just as she knew he would want it.  Sleep had
finally come to him sometime early in the morning, but the lack of it
hung about him as he lifted his legs over the side of the bed and stood
to face the day. She had drawn the blinds so he could sleep late, and
waited until mid-morning to start his breakfast.  He would shower
first, buying some time to think about what he might say to her, and
what she may or may not want to share about the night before.

To his surprise, she greeted him with her dazzling smile and a kiss as
she brought him his food.  He chose to eat, saving any words till
later, waiting for her to offer up excuses or an apology.  None came,
so he picked at his breakfast in silence as she hummed quietly to
herself while busily cleaning the kitchen.

Later that afternoon as he dozed in front of the television, she
snuggled next to him, her small hand stroking his inner thigh. He
opened his eyes to find her staring at him with a mischievous grin.

"Take me to bed and fuck me?"

They were words he had never heard her use, but words that caused his
cock to stir in spite of the questions she had still not answered.
"So, it's over - you won't go to him again?"

She slid her hand under his belt, gently closing her fingers around his
erection.

"I want *you*. I want your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me till
I scream."

Who was this woman? As uncertain as he was, he found it impossible not
to play along, impossible not to kiss her deeply when she moved onto
his lap, impossible not to fuck her like a wild animal in their bed,
and finally, impossible not to wonder what went through her mind as she
found her second orgasm under him, thrashing and screaming just as she
had promised.

Afterwards she lay pressed against him, slowly running her fingers over
his chest and nipples.  She looked so satisfied, no, contented was more
accurate.  He had no choice but to try to make some sense of it.

"Why do you do it?" he asked, as he stared at the ceiling.

"You mean go to him, don't you?"

"You make it sound like a friendly visit when you put it that way.  Go
to him?  Why don't you just say it?  You have sex with him - you go to
let him fuck you."

"Do you want me to say that, to tell you in those words?"

"I want you to tell me why!  Why can't you tell me what you need
instead of going to another man?  What does he do for you that I can't?
Just tell me what you want - I'll do it - anything, anything at all!"

She sighed, then trailed her fingertips over his belly, finding his
spent erection and working it gently between her fingers.

"Are you sure you want to know?  I could say things that would hurt you
terribly, and you'd regret asking."

"I regret asking in the first place.  But what am I supposed to do?
Sit quietly by while you have sex with this man, and never question
why?  If you still love me, if you want a future together, what could
you say that would hurt me?"

Her eyes peered into his, searching for a sign that he meant what he
said, for just a brief hint of inner strength, or possibly arousal.
How might he react if she led him along such a tenuous path?  The risk
was enormous - how could she tell her husband such things?  And why did
the anticipation of his response make her so wet, her belly so
desperate to be filled?

"I could say I go because he's handsome, and incredibly sexy. I
could say he's very wealthy and spares no expense to please me. I may
even tell you how he satisfies me in bed, that he's a wonderful lover,
that he drives me to the brink of my senses when he makes me cum."

She paused, still playing with his cock under the damp sheet, finally
finding it growing hard again in her hand. She smiled at him, now
knowing he accepted at least some small part of her obsession, that
he loved her enough to find some pleasure in giving her such an
unlikely gift. And then he turned away from her, shuddered, and drew a
sudden, halting breath. Moving close to him, Elyse stroked his hair
lightly as he lay staring silently into the darkness. She wanted his
reaction, and now she had it.

"None of those things are why I go.  I may never be able to
convince you, but it's true," she told him, almost in a whisper.

"True?  You've done a pretty good job of convincing me otherwise."

She pressed closer, throwing a bare leg over him, then turned him
toward her again and eased on top of him, her small firm breasts pushed
high up on his heaving chest.

"I can't tell you why I go.  I don't know myself.  It's not you.  It's
not him.  It's me.  Something in me - something terrifying and exciting
at the same time.  I love my life with you.  But - I don't know -
something happens there, something that renews a part of me that I
never knew was empty.  And after, I love you even more, so deeply, so
fully, as though I have so much more to give you than I've ever been
able to share before.  I love being with you; just your touch makes me
warm and safe.  I crave your body constantly.  I fantasize about your
cock inside me, and how wonderful it feels.  No other man could make me
feel the way I do when I cum with you inside me.  It's true.  Whether
you believe me or not, I live for you and you alone."

She was so beautiful, so convincing.  He struggled wildly with
jealousy, love, and his best attempt at understanding.  But if she
couldn't understand her obsession, how could he, even at his best?

In the weeks that followed, he found it impossible to doubt her.  She
found it impossible not to relish her new freedom, and every minute of
every day showed her love to him in everything she did.  Each touch
proved her sincerity.

Their lovemaking became a series of adventures, each spontaneous and
more daring than the last. She stripped for him at night after dinner
as slow earthy jazz oozed from the stereo and the dimmed blue light she
bought only that afternoon silhouetted her body as she twisted hungrily
before him.  She spoke to him graphically, breathlessly, as they
returned from a Saturday visit to the museum, telling him how the lines
and mass of a certain sculpture made her think of how wonderful his own
body looked to her, how it made her hot and wet, so much so she
couldn't wait to have him - so she took him there in the car as he
drove, eagerly swallowing his semen as though it was hot tea and honey.
She arrived at his office late one Friday afternoon flaunting a new
coat, one of luxuriously thick silver and white fur. She felt the
stares of his colleagues, from bare calf to the upper curves of her
breasts left enticingly exposed. Their attention warmed her a little,
but she went to her husband without a smile or glance at the others. 
Inthe seclusion of his office, she opened the coat and let it slide off
her shoulders, finally naked before him with a hunger in her eyes that
by now, he knew all too well. They made love on the carpet in front of
his desk, door unlocked, all the while sensing the danger of being seen
by an intruder, overwhelmed by their passion for each other.

After a month, Steven had forgiven everything. 'A small price,' he told
himself.  Memory of the mansion and the dark man in it went to the
place where memories go that are not forgotten, but only return with
the most deliberate provocation.  Now, not even the moans
of her loudest orgasm set them free.

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