Cheating to Survive (Fix It or Get Out) (10 page)

No. Heather was doomed to play out this charade of professional chitchat and casual pats on the shoulder and maybe an occasional wink here and there.

Wasn’t she a good mom? A devoted wife despite Lance’s clueless nature? Clean house, kids had no cavities, all did well in school. She kept herself in shape, had a great job. What was in it for her? There had to be more.

Just one tiny peck on the lips. No, it wouldn’t be enough. She could almost taste his tongue inside her. Moist and warm. Would he hold her tight, squeeze her into his warm chest?

The hospital intercom hummed, paging Dr. Silvatri overhead. Her fatigue vanished.

Her hand, no longer under her control, dialed the operator. Before she had time to comprehend, the operator answered.

“Good morning, Norlyn Plans Hospital, Samantha speaking, how may I direct your call?”

“Can you page Dr. Silvatri to this number, please?” The phone crashed into the cradle and she sprang back in shock. As she scowled at her insubordinate hand, the phone chimed.

She stared at the phone. Her hand, now paralyzed.

Stupid hand.

What did she do? What would she even say? Maybe if she ignored the call he wouldn’t find out it was her. No, the damn answering machine had Victoria’s voice on it with their message. She snatched the phone. “Dietitians office, how may I help you?”

“Yes, this is Dr. Silvatri, did someone page me?”

“Yes, hi, it’s Heather. I heard them page you overhead and I…didn’t realize you worked weekends and I had a question about your patient…in the ICU and when I heard you get paged I thought to page you before…you left the hospital.“ The lies spilled out one after another.

He snickered into the phone, seeing through her sham. “Yes, I’m here, where are you?”

“I’m in my office. Alone.” Did she just say that?

“Where’s your office?”

“On the fourth floor, the old maternity wing, all the way at the very end, the last office on the right.”

“I’ll be right there.”

What the hell did she do? He couldn’t come in here. Plus she hadn’t slept. What did she even look like? Her plain pink T-shirt and short khaki skirt screamed boring old mother. Why’d she call him? She was married, sleep deprived, bags under her eyes, probably still smelled like puke.

His mighty fist pounded the door causing her to jump. She threw a piece of gum in her mouth and then opened the door. This huge muscular thing took up the entire width of the door.

Heather invited him in and he grabbed the first chair by the door. He swung it around to lean his massive chest onto the backrest and straddled his legs underneath. She stepped back and selected a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Breathe.

All alone in a closed office.

“So,” he began, “you’re the only one here on the weekend?”

“Yes, only one of us covers the weekend.”

“Is it a lot of work to cover the entire hospital by yourself?”

“It could be at times, but it’s doable.” How contrived would this conversation be? She felt like she was on a job interview with the president of the company.

“So why won’t you let me do a colonoscopy on you?”

Her heart switched off. “What? I don’t need one. I’m only forty years old.”

“You never know, it’s important to maintain good colon health.”

Heather’s face immersed in red flames, burning and melting before him. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” He rested his chin on top of the chair, the corners of his velvety lips inched up, the smirk that she secretly dreamed about at night, the lips that drove her crazy. His eyes refused to leave her gaze. He licked his lips like a lion waiting to dine.

Either fatigue or numbness, a sort of calmness overtook her. For the first time in fifteen years, her body relaxed and expelled destructive, toxic forces. She inhaled a long deep breath of renewed air, crisp and moist, injecting her with contentment, peace, and harmony. Resentment fled through her pores.

“It’s a very personal procedure,” she whispered.

He jerked his chair two inches closer. She looked down at the floor beneath his wheels and then back into his eyes. He raised his right eyebrow, tilted his head.

He whispered back, his seductive voice teasing the hairs on her arms. “You’d trust a total stranger rather than someone you knew?”

His chair moved another two inches closer.

“I trust you, it’s just…” Heather exhaled. Tingling raced through her body. “If I knew you on a more personal level I wouldn’t care if you looked up there, I mean I would care but, I wouldn’t…”

His head sprang up and he leaned against the wall behind him, raising both his eyebrows this time. Stunned. “You mean if you and I were on a more personal level than it would be okay?”

“Of course, yes, I mean no, I think it would be something that if you and I were...” She squeezed her fist in between her thighs. “Well, we couldn’t anyway.”

“Why not?”

“We’re both married.”

“Is that a problem?”

Heather’s heart pounded so furiously against her chest she felt dizzy. She stared at him for a good fifteen seconds. “Your call,” she heaved out, her breathing rapid now.

He no longer inched toward her. Extensive thrusts propelled him across the room as if he had waited forever for her to say those words. Right before his chair knocked into hers, Silvatri leaped up, whipped it around in a half circle and crashed back into it, removing the obstructive backrest. He secured her cheekbones under his thumbs and drew her lips in to his.

His juicy mouth smashed onto hers, biting and sucking, like former lovers reunited. The feel of his powerful tongue against hers, was exactly as she imagined. She drove back wanting to climb inside. Silvatri’s right hand clutched the back of her head and clamped down on her hair. They say it’s in his kiss, and it was. Passionate and yearning, a deep desire concealed for months. There, in his kiss, she felt it.

Heather snagged it. A kiss. A tiny wish of hers, finally granted and her life took on new meaning. One kiss and hope restored.

But in one swooping motion, he removed his hands from her face, grabbed her ass and lifted Heather onto his lap. Heather froze. Only a kiss. His mouth covered hers again, but with each motion, she unraveled and let go. His commanding precedent erased the past fifteen years of faithfulness she maintained with Lance. She wanted him, wanted this.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands travelled from her ass, down her skirt and back up her legs. His thumbs probed the tiny folds between her thigh and pelvic bones, teasing.

He glided his hands to the underside of her skirt and cupped her bare ass. He pulled away and they looked into each other’s eyes while their breaths poured out in quick successions. “Wasn’t expecting that,” he panted.

She smiled, hoping her face remained colorless. At least the thong she threw on this morning redeemed her lifeless mommy apparel.

He snapped up, hoisted her by her ass into the air like a small child, and took two large strides over to the wall, pushing her against it. Silvatri released her and then leaned in, rubbing his loose scrub pants against her body. She questioned if he wore underwear as his erection hung down across his thigh. The cucumber she cut for Rori’s snack yesterday entered her mind.

No. Not now. No kids!

He pulled away and staggered into the wall behind him, breathing as heavy as she. “How private is this office?”

He wouldn’t. Not here. Would he? Would she?

“No one knows I’m in here.” He looked at the door. “It’s locked,” she continued, “I’m the only one with the key.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He seized her hand and then bent her over Catherine’s desk. Of all desks, why hers? She tipped over Catherine’s picture frame of her children with their grandparents and shoved it to the side. The image of the grandfather smoking a cigar with his vile toupee nauseated her. Then she thought of poor Rori throwing up last night. What was she doing?

He ripped the thong off her in one snatch, thrust his scrubs down next and the feel of him entering her, those initial seconds, incomparable.

Just his tip, touching the outside flesh, enticing, sent tendrils of vibrations throughout her as he rotated it around in slow circles. When the tip entered, ripples took off in numerous directions, alerting the rest of her body to the incoming delight. He penetrated inch-by-inch, paused, then moved slightly forward. Their low huffs escalated to moans, with the steady increase of him filling her.

She awaited his full length inside, unable to control her eagerness. He continued to torment Heather and her impatience heightened the anticipation. She squeezed her muscles around him and he let out a howl unable to contain himself any longer. When he delivered the last inch, driving it in, she roared, releasing her last trace of bitterness. Her body absorbed him, he felt her warmth. The complete insertion, instantaneous fulfillment.

“It’s been so long,” She whispered. She promised she wouldn’t do this again.

He leaned over and kissed the back of her neck, then slammed her hard, harder, but there was no pain. Heather welcomed his savageness, remembering the sex she had before she married Lance. “Harder,” she said. The desk slammed against the wall with rhythmic movements, loud and obvious.

The absence of any passion in her life, evident now. She seized her high point, convulsed from his sheer dominance and fell forward, vanquished by the gift of Silvatri.

After her family fell asleep, Heather reclined on her hammock and observed the cloudless sky fill with twinkling stars. Her smile persistent. She swirled her finger over her naked body remembering his touch. The featherlike breeze roused the hairs on her skin, her nipples reached toward the stars. Awakening her. She had awakened.

Chapter 14
Catherine

Alone, on the far right corner of the gym, Catherine waited for Emily’s spring chorus concert to begin. Other couples, parents, and grandparents gathered to see their children perform. She waved at another mother, but she only dispensed a meager grin back.

She took pictures and video of Emily holding a bouquet of daisies in her hand, one of the few students chosen to do so. Why didn’t she sing louder though? Emily, once a chatterbox, had backslid into a shy, withdrawn child this year. Catherine inquired whether a classmate harassed her, but her teacher insisted that all the children worked well together.

The concert ended. Catherine signed Emily out of school and they strolled toward their minivan. She buckled in Emily, who looked on with brooding eyes.

“Why didn’t daddy come to see me?”

Her heart dropped, crushing pain followed. How dare he do this to her. She put up with it, but Emily? How was that fair? “I’m sorry Emily, I’m not sure why.”

“Maybe I can ask him.” She wriggled the toy bunny in her hand.

“No, I’ll speak to him, honey. When we get home, start your homework and I’ll get you a special snack.”

“Hungry caterpillar fruit salad?”

“Sure.” Catherine chuckled.

“Oh, yummy.”

Emily finished her homework at their kitchen table when Peter rocketed through the door screaming into his cell phone. Catherine shuddered by reflex and Emily mirrored her.

“I don’t give a shit what he says, this is my decision. He can go to hell for all I care.”

Emily’s hands flung over her ears. Catherine motioned to Peter, holding her pointer finger to her lips. He slapped her hand away.

Emily waited for her mother’s reaction. Catherine reached for a yellow sponge instead and hurried to the kitchen table, wiping a stray raspberry into her hand.

He pitched his phone onto the kitchen counter and then rubbed his face with both hands multiple times. Emily and Catherine remained silent but watched for another explosion.

“What?” Peter said removing his tie and belt. “What is it?”

Catherine sent Emily to her room. The little girl took off as if chased by a zombie.

“Why didn’t you come to Emily’s concert? I reminded you this morning.”

He shook his head and huffed as if she was clueless. Had she forgotten something again? Peter darted towards the garage door. She followed him and his wicked mood, knowing there’d be consequences. “You should’ve been there, she asked for you, wanted to know where you were...”

“Sorry but my job is taxing. I don’t serve rice pudding to patients all day.”

“I don’t serve food. I don’t have anything to do with their menus.”

“I don’t care. I have to keep the trades going, money flowing. That’s my job. I have clients relying on me, why can’t you understand the stress I have?”

“I have patients relying on me, but I still make time for her.”

Peter grabbed a pack of cigarettes concealed behind a bottle of Armor All.

“You’re smoking? Since when?”

A twitchy feeling spread through her body. Flashes ignited in front of her, her vision clouded. She grappled between the pain of defending her daughter and her new fear of him. Why couldn’t she speak up?

She inhaled long and hard. “You had no problem showing up to your son’s lacrosse game last weekend.”

Peter stepped to his right but scorn grew on his face. She waited for his reply, an outburst, a bombardment of curses. She held strong, but he spun back and hurled a container of motor oil against the wall above her. Catherine buckled and collapsed onto her knees. Her sight dimmed, then blackened. The cold concrete beneath, froze her in place.

Chapter 15
Victoria

Victoria scooped the last mouthful of yogurt into her mouth and then watched as Heather chewed her Kashi Go Lean cereal. Passionately. Something Heather had done all week. Licking frozen yogurt off her spoon, sucking milk up the straw with intense drags and crunching on each grape as if it was a Godiva chocolate truffle.

“So where do you think Catherine is?” Heather asked. “It’s not like her to call in sick. God forbid she missed one day of work, helping all these defenseless patients. What would they do without her?”

“Stop, she’s new at this and excited. I’m sure you were like this when you first started.”