For
stryck's prompt.
“It may be time to accept the inevitable,” Fred sighed, holding Chelsea close. His wife stiffened in his arms.
“No!” she demanded. “When have we ever given in? When have we ever given up? Fred, Fred, I want this so badly!”
“I do too, honey, you know I do. But nothing is getting us anywhere…”
“Well, then, we’ll have to try something else!”
She spent the next week in her studio, writing, pouring out everything onto paper. Their lovemaking was rough and desperate when she emerged, and often ended with Fred holding a sobbing Chelsea, the two of them clinging to each other as if to a lifeboat. When the week passed and she calmed, the sex gentler, the sounds from the studio more like her normal writing, Fred thought she’d finally given in, that she hadn’t been able to find another way any more than he had.
( Read more... )
“It may be time to accept the inevitable,” Fred sighed, holding Chelsea close. His wife stiffened in his arms.
“No!” she demanded. “When have we ever given in? When have we ever given up? Fred, Fred, I want this so badly!”
“I do too, honey, you know I do. But nothing is getting us anywhere…”
“Well, then, we’ll have to try something else!”
She spent the next week in her studio, writing, pouring out everything onto paper. Their lovemaking was rough and desperate when she emerged, and often ended with Fred holding a sobbing Chelsea, the two of them clinging to each other as if to a lifeboat. When the week passed and she calmed, the sex gentler, the sounds from the studio more like her normal writing, Fred thought she’d finally given in, that she hadn’t been able to find another way any more than he had.
( Read more... )