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Andrew stopped just short of the stairs that led to the deck of the Vincent house.  He had been stunned to see Monica Vincent standing on the deck during his run, and coming closer did nothing to diminish that reaction.

She was still as gorgeous as he remembered her.  Although she was wearing a blue robe, it was relatively lightweight and did not hide the curve of her hips. The robe also was short, ending mid-thigh, so that he could see most of her long legs.  Time had been good to her.  Her hair was longer, just below her shoulders, and her face was thinner, so she no longer had a girlish look to her. 

"Can I come up?" Andrew asked.

"Why not," she said in a tone that betrayed little emotion.

He took the stairs two at a time and was soon on the deck.  For the first time all morning, he felt chilled, but he tried to convince himself it was because the morning air had cooled the perspiration he had worked up during the run.  He tried to think of something to say, finally coming up with, "I'm sorry about your father."

She shrugged.  "C'est la vie."  She studied him for a few moments, before she said, "You look well."

"So do you," he said, lamely.  Now that he was closer, he could see how the robe curved over her breasts.  From where he stood, he could tell she probably had nothing on underneath.  Just being this close to her sent his heart rate skyrocketing.  He could feel his blood pumping.  One thing time had not changed was the effect she had on him.  She was like a burst of raw sexual energy that made him act like a horny schoolboy unable to control himself. 

'Down boy,' he thought, trying to regain some control.  He turned to his surefire method of handling such situations.  Cricket.  In his mind, he pictured the field, the wickets, and the bowler and batsman lined up on opposite side of the pitch.  He let out a deep breath.  It was working.

Monica stepped closer, so close that he could smell her perfume over the salt in the air.  She smiled a little and ran a hand along the length of his left arm.  He could tell that she knew the power she had over him.  This was one of her games.

Andrew reached up and took her hand.  "I'm not a little boy any more," he said.

She just laughed and stepped back.  He noticed that her robe seemed to end a little higher, exposing more of her legs, causing him to immediately flash back to the first time they had had sex.  It was only their third day together and she had invited him to play tennis on the court in the middle of the colony.

The game itself had been little more than foreplay.  The first set had been close.  Then she crushed him in the second set, largely because she kept distracting him by hiking up her short skirt between serves and because he could barely run the baseline with a raging hard-on. 

Monica had been magnanimous in victory, though.  After the match, she had pulled him into a nearby storage shed where she had kissed him.  Even though he had been ready for it, it had been a surprise -- hard, almost forceful with need, and her tongue ran against his lower lip until he gave in to the force.  Before he knew it, her skirt was hiked around her hips, his shorts were around his knees and her legs were wrapped around his waist.  Then he was inside her, thrusting furiously as he pressed her against the wall.  It had been frenzied, furious, two people giving into the pure lust that drove them.  Her moans had propelled him forward, pushing deeper inside her with every thrust.  Even now, he could feel her fingernails digging into his sweat-slicked back as she tightened around him and then came so loudly he feared half the people in the colony would hear them.

"I see you remember me well," Monica's voice intruded into his memory.  Shocked out of the vision, he found himself once again on the deck, any hope of self-control completely gone.  He could picture an entire cricket test match and it would be hopeless.  She stepped close again, a wicked grin on her face.

"Don't tempt me," he warned, but even as he said that, he reached out and touched the collar of her robe, ready to pull it open.  He was completely under her spell.  "God, Monica, do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Her fingers trailed along his chest and Andrew realized he could no longer feel the morning chill.  It felt like every place she touched was on fire.   His breath was coming in short bursts as he slid her robe back a little.

"I think we should take this inside," he whispered.

Then the spell broke.  Monica pulled away with a start.   It took Andrew a moment to realize why, but then he heard a noise from within the house.  Someone was crying loudly.  It sounded like a child.  Surprised, he looked at her.

"My son, Casey," she explained.  She pulled her robe back up so she was covered.

"A son?" Andrew looked at her, aware that the next question to be asked was evident on his face.

Monica's eyes narrowed.  "He's only one.  Don't worry.  He's not yours."

Relief flooded over him and he let out a very deep breath.  He also realized that he was no longer aroused and now knew a surefire way to get rid of an unwanted erection.  "I didn't realize.  And the boy's father?"

"He's not in the picture," she said.  Monica frowned and then looked back toward her house.  "I think you should go."

Andrew nodded.  "I guess.  Can I see you -- I mean, after the funeral?"  With their history, he might as well just have asked if he could sleep with her.   He quickly added, "I don't know. Maybe we could for coffee.  With you and. . . ." It took him a second to remember the boy's name.  "Casey."

"No," Monica said, evenly.  "I'll be leaving right after the funeral.  I'm just staying here until then."  He had a strange sense that something he said had disturbed her.  Then, she said, "Don't come back, Andy."  With that, she turned and walked back to the house. 

Andrew stood there a moment longer, before he walked back to the stairs and down to the beach.  He looked back at Monica's house and could see her standing by the glass doors, watching him.  With a sigh, he began the rest of his jog back to Kim's house.

Back inside her house, Monica Vincent watched Andrew run away.  It seemed fitting.  Then she turned and walked into the kitchen, where the nanny was trying to feed Casey, who was still crying.  She did not look at the baby, however.  Her eyes were fixed on her older son, four-year-old Cody, who, with his dark wavy hair and light-colored eyes, was the spitting image of his father.


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 18th, 2010 05:35 am (UTC)
Wow, that's a great twist to the story. I can't wait to see what happens when Andy finds out about Cody. Great chapter.
Nov. 19th, 2010 12:48 am (UTC)
Thanks very much. This twist will take awhile to play out, but I think it will have an interesting affect on a number of relationships in the story. Hopefully, you'll stick around to see what happens.
Nov. 18th, 2010 06:42 pm (UTC)
Nov. 19th, 2010 12:48 am (UTC)
Nov. 19th, 2010 01:09 am (UTC)
I wasn't expecting that....
Nov. 19th, 2010 01:21 am (UTC)
Hey, it's a soap opera. Don't you need to have long-lost children available to show up later? :-) I'm just glad I was able to come up with a twist that readers didn't expect. There may be a few more along the way.
Nov. 29th, 2010 12:49 am (UTC)
Fantastic! I totally didn't expect that one. I can't wait to see how it all plays out.
Nov. 29th, 2010 06:03 am (UTC)
Thanks for the comment. I'm looking forward to the twist playing out, though it might be a long time coming. The revelation will have a major impact on some of the significant relationships in the story.

I've dropped some very subtle clues about a key aspect of this storyline and there will be some more obvious ones before the full truth comes out. I don't really expect anyone to pick up on them yet, but I hope when the details emerge, people can look back and spot the earlier clues.
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )