Vicariously Yours,

Ironing Yours Truly

"She is your therapist? You kissed your therapist?" Absurdity oozed in Randy's tone as they sat on that cold iron rusty bench together.

"Is it the thrill of the chase? Or the fact that she is off limits for you is why you kissed her? Because if that's the reason why you are cheating on Pamela, then we...can still work through this."

Marcelo didn't add anything to that anymore. He knew Randy was being helpful. Trying to save the wound he had caused but Marcelo didn't want that either. He absolutely didn't care for Pamela but he also can't leave her because of something that was so insipid, so petulant but that's the code. He had to stick by it.

"Marcelo? Are you listening to me?"

He cleared his throat to respond, not meeting his friend's eyes. "Yeah. I'm."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What is it? The thrill? Right?"

Marcelo turned his head to face Randy, unable to lie. He couldn't make up words anymore. "This isn't for a thrill."

"What do you mean?" Concern flashed in Randy's soft eyes.

Marcelo rubbed the palms of his hands over his face, suddenly feeling distress. "I-I don't know."

Why is it so simple in his head but his mouth couldn't communicate the simplicity of the words of what he felt to his friend? Why are things so difficult to put into sentence? How can it be fair to be such a complicated human being?

"I don't know, Randy."
                                        • • •

"How was your week, Marcelo?"

Isabella sat in her chair, feeling less confident than ever. The bald man who had been haunting her dreams for a week before his appointment was making her stomach go all queasy, who is looking mighty fine in a black sweater and black jeans with those annoyingly sexy orange sneakers, who is making her suffer through something she never ever had known.

He nodded, solemnly. "It was good. I worked out too often, can't seem to eat, sleep definitely eludes me and yes, my friend questioned me what was I doing leaning so close to my psychiatrist the other evening."

Complicated didn't even begin with.

Every thing here has radically changed. The line Isabella thought she hadn't crossed was crossed! She did the blundering mistake of her life by giving into something like that and now she is corrupting her practice.

She opened her mouth to say something but all that came out were, "And how is Pamela?"

His eyes squinted, those dangerous eyes of his. They watched her, peeling the clothes off her back. Searing through like laser beams melting the wax off of statues. But Isabella tried to sustain her mind here when he didn't answer her back. "I asked you a question, Marcelo."

"I know but what's the use of that?"

"You don't think it's important to talk of the woman who you vowed to stay with forever?"

"I haven't exchanged vows yet."

"Then when will you?" Her voice turned bitter and obvious.

Wasting no time, Marcelo jumped at the opportunity. "Is this about us? Because if it is, I'd like to talk about it more directly."

"There is no us!"

His head slanted in sexy disbelief. "How can you say that?"

"Because you have a fiancé!"

"Who I don't care."

"That's it. Get out! Get out! We are done with your sessions. This is over." Her cool went off. She had blown off the chilling facade because even now, Isabella couldn't hold down the fort.

Marcelo just sat there, his deep blue eyes strained on her.

And finally, she saw it.

She saw everything. Everything leading up to this point. He didn't care for either of the women, he only thought of himself. He was a world class jerk who gets to jack off to two women at the same time. Not anymore! This was it! Isabella already hated the fact that she kissed him, she was secretly now glad that it was just a kiss and nothing more. She at least had her dignity. She wasn't a home wrecker. She wasn't going to do that to that woman.

She flung up from her seat, her beige skirt tightened more against her hips. Her bare arms sprinkled with goosebumps. She suddenly regretted her off white turtle neck sleeveless top.

Her body was like an explosive when the intensity in his expression came off heavy and solid. It was hard to shake it off.

Her panties started to soak. Her legs shook like a withering leaf.

"You can't keep doing this. You can't keep staring at me like that. Yo-you keep watching me like that. Like you are- are starved for me. You watch me like I'm your-"

He cut her off by walking up to her, making her trail back step by step. His words like gravel.

"Feast. Like you are my feast. Like I can't stop thinking about kissing you again. Like I can't stop imagining you beneath me and I'm not going to apologize for it. I'm not! I want- I want you and I want to ravish you, dammit!" The nerve on his forehead jumped and it made him deadly.

Her back hit the wall. Pulse beading hard at the base of her throat, under his tough fingers. She hadn't realized he had her grasped by her delicate warm throat. He tightened his hold. Her skin so soft and beautiful.

Marcelo leaned in and Isabella whispered, her body strung. "You have a fia-"

"You think I don't know I have a fiancé? You think I want to feel like this? You think I don't know what's happening here? That this is wrong? That this is unfair? You think I don't have a conscience? Sometimes, we can't help what we feel. Sometimes...I can't help it. And sometimes...you can't either."

Desire dilated in his eyes. Intensity and passion burning in them almost searing her.

"You need this, Isabella."

The tick-tock of the clock was the only sound that was amplified the echo in the room. The rushing of a hazing snow wind outside was a comfort that wasn't heard when one is conscious of it. The rattle outside the office in the reception could be heard.

Yet it felt so silent.

Isabella raised her hand and she wished she could slap him again. But to hurt him was also to hurt her. So she pressed her palm, cupping his tight rugged bearded jaw. The bristles were sharp and scratched her skin.

But it didn't hurt.

It only ignited.

"How can we stop this? Please tell me."

"There are many ways that we can but if you want to stop, you step away. You leave right now."

His hold lessened but hers only tightened.

"You stop it, Isabella."

She could smell him. She could feel his hard chest pressed upon hers. This was fatal. This was carnality. This was adulterous.

"Walk away, Isabella. If you don't want it, walk away now." With each word, he came closer and closer. The inch of spaces between their lips decreased further.

"I can't." The shiver cascaded down her spine as he closed the distance with the slant of his pink lips and formidable whisper of his breath.

"Good, because I can't seem to breathe if I don't kiss you."