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“I am inside you,” his voice was mocking.
“Not like this.”
“Like how?”
“Tal, just fuck me.”
“Oh, feisty. I love it.”
He didn't move, though – he seemed determined to get her off on his hand. She was thrashing underneath him, literally begging for his cock, when the hotel phone began to ring on the night stand next to her.
“Who the fuck could that be!?” she exclaimed, moving her hips back against his hand, now striving to come on his fingers.
“Probably the front desk calling, asking you to keep quiet,” he teased.
“I don't care, I can't keep quiet.”
“Answer it. Let them hear you. Let them hear what I can do to you,” he whispered.
God, it was so bad. So wrong. So fucking hot. She began to shiver, and she knew an orgasm wasn't far off, so she picked up the phone.
“Hello?” she breathed into the receiver.
“Surprise!”
Mischa sat up so fast, she smacked her forehead into Tal's collar bone. He immediately backed away and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place. She felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Like she was going to pass out. Like she was going to have a heart attack.
No no no no no no no no no …
“Mike!?” she hissed, her eyes flying to Tal's. His eyebrows shot up and he stared at her for a second, then began moving. He crawled backwards off the bed and moved quickly around the suite, collecting his clothing.
“Yeah! I was able to get out on the early flight yesterday, isn't that great!?” her husband laughed.
“Yeah … great … where are you right now? Naples?” she asked, talking around her bottom lip, which was lodged between her teeth.
“No, I'm here.”
“You're at the hotel?” Mischa looked at Tal, who paused in the middle of putting on his pants and looked back at her.
“I'm outside a room,” Mike replied. Misch nearly fell off the bed.
“You're at the door!?” she practically shrieked. Tal's eyes moved to the front door of the suite, then he went back to putting on his pants.
“Yeah, I knocked on the door for like five minutes,” Mike started. Misch scrambled to get off the bed, pushing her shirt back down over her breasts.
“Knocking? I haven't heard any knock,” she replied, watching as Tal strode towards the door and peeked out the peep-hole. He looked back at her and shook his head.
“Well, yeah, cause apparently you're not in this room anymore. I tried your cell phone, but you didn't answer, so I called the front desk. They said you'd switched rooms, but wouldn't give me the new number, would only patch me through to the room phone,” Mike explained.
Oh, thank god.
“I forgot to tell you,” she let out a deep sigh and pressed her hand to her forehead. “I'm not in that room anymore.” Tal went back to moving around, yanking on a shirt and then shoving the rest of his stuff into his duffel bag.
“Obviously. Why'd you get moved?” Mike sounded annoyed. Mischa watched as Tal went into the bathroom, and when he came out, he was carrying his toiletries. They all got dumped in the bag, which then got zipped up.
“Peter had to go to New York to get some stuff, he gave me his suite,” Mischa explained about her boss.
“Oh, sweet! Upgrade! What's the room number?”
“Room 1816.”
Tal finished putting on his shoes, then walked right up to her and kissed her quickly. Before she could respond, he hugged her close and put his lips to her ear.
“I'm here with you. Be strong. If you need me, come find me.”
Then he was walking out of the room, not a trace of him left behind.
“Sounds great, I'll be up there in a minute!” her husband said in a cheery voice. Then the line went dead.
Misch spun in about three circles, not sure what the fuck to do. Then she ran into the bathroom, ripping her shirt over her head. Tal's fingers had been inside her not two minutes ago. She just … couldn't meet her husband, not while she was stained with another man's skin.
What the fuck is going on!? How can this be happening!? I'm not ready. I'm not ready. I'm soooooooo not ready. I don't think I'll ever be ready.
She turned on the water and jumped underneath it, just long enough to run a washcloth over her skin and between her legs. Then she jumped back out and ran around the suite. Slipped on some underwear and a long, sleeveless, jersey knit dress. Very beachy, very non-sexy, very non-confrontational.
Is there recommended fashion for this? “What to wear when you break up with your husband” clothing?
She was almost to the door of the suite when she realized she still wasn't wearing her rings. She cursed and ran back to the night stand, and had just slipped them on when there was a knock at the door.
Be strong. You can do this. Be strong. Fuck. FUCK. I AM SO FUCKING FUCKED.
Tal shut the door to the suite behind him.
And then he waited.
Waited till he heard the elevator ding, down at the other end of the hall.
Then he slid his sunglasses on and walked forward, one hand casually in his pants pocket, his bag swinging in his other hand.
Of course he knew what Michael Rapaport looked like, he had seen plenty of pictures. But seeing someone in person is different, and seeing the husband of the woman Tal had just gotten done fucking, well, that was a whole new realm of different.
