Selling the Drama by Theresa Smith

to detract from her beauty before, their absence matured
her appearance. He leaned forward and took her bottom lip into his
mouth, sucking on it gently. She pressed herself close to his
groin, rocking against him. As he sucked on her lip, she undid her
jeans, and then started in on the buttons of her shirt, throwing
that off, her bra landing on the floor seconds later. His hands
landed on her hips and he pushed at her jeans, getting them down to
her thighs. She did the rest, using her feet to shimmy out of them
while her hands yanked down his shorts.
    Toby could see the door to his bedroom was
still open. His eyes sought out the clock, twenty five past five,
maybe twenty minutes left until Iris got home, let herself in
through the front door and walked past his room, the first door in
the hall. Maybe less. Toby stuck his tongue into Charlotte's mouth,
seeking hers, his hands covering her backside. Cars drove along the
street; a hose sprang to life, the next door neighbour beginning
her afternoon watering session. Dogs barked and children called out
to each other as they rode along on their bikes. The clock counted
down, only a possible fifteen minutes remaining. Toby picked
Charlotte up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing
the heat of herself up against him, the wetness of her teasing him,
driving him out of his head crazy to sink inside of her. Backing up
with her in his arms, he sat as his legs found the seat of his desk
chair, still holding onto Charlotte, sinking her down onto himself,
clapping his hand over her mouth as he did so, muffling her
screamed out, "Toby!" It was only on account of silencing her that
he heard Iris's car pull into the drive. Iris called out to her
neighbour, their voices carrying over the yard, filtering into the
room through the open window. Releasing her mouth, his eyes fixed
on hers, Toby pulled Charlotte against him, holding her firmly as
he emptied himself inside of her, his teeth sinking into her
shoulder to control his own urge to call out.
    As Iris bid her neighbour farewell and made
her way up the stairs to the front door, Charlotte ducked into her
own room and Toby slipped into the shower of their shared bathroom.
As he washed the day's football game away and the scent of her off
his skin, he listened to her talking to her mother, her laughter
light and her tone even. He imagined her, standing there in the
doorway of her bedroom, her hair pulled into a hasty ponytail, a
lopsided smile on her face, and all that he had just poured into
her soaking her still.
    He was a slave to her. There was no use even
thinking he had a chance at living without her. She was stitched
into him, threaded into every bit of muscle and sinew, running
through every drop of blood, an infusion he was sure he would die
without.
     
    Charlotte ate her dinner with little talk;
Toby had the floor anyway, yakking on about his football match,
dissecting the game in such a way it had ceased to even be a
football game. It was more, a being all of its own, his adoration
for it a little bit stunning, slightly confusing, and as much as
she would never admit it to his face, a tiny bit boring. But that
was alright, because he had Dad hanging on his every word and Mum
listening with her fan girl face on, leaving Charlotte to relive,
in her head, the most amazing sex she had ever had. Her shoulder
still ached from where he had bitten it to stop himself from
yelling out and drawing attention to them, but it was a good ache,
an ache that made her ache in other places. Although, it might not
be a bad idea to douse it in some disinfectant, just to be on the
safe side. It would be an awkward thing to explain to her mother if
she ended up with an infected shoulder.
    She and Toby had not spoken since this
afternoon; there had not been an opportunity yet. Charlotte was
beginning to despise this secrecy. First having to endure her best
friend lusting after him and now not being able to hold his hand
underneath the table or