Chapter 2: Der Abend
The credits of some forgettable thriller rolled across the screen, casting pale blue light over the couch. Sandra lay against Tony's chest, her head tucked under his chin, one leg draped over his thigh. She wore nothing but a thin tank top and panties, her skin warm and soft where it pressed against him. Tony's arm was wrapped around her, his hand resting on her bare stomach, but his mind was elsewhere.
He kept replaying the moment in Jeany's studio. The way the light had caught the curve of her shoulder. The way she had laughed, low and familiar, when he'd told her she looked good. His fingers itched to touch her again, and that thought made him feel the weight of Sandra's body against him like an accusation.
"You're quiet," Sandra murmured, not looking up from the screen.
"Just tired," he said, and the lie came easily, which made it worse.
On the screen, the couple in the film had finally crossed the line they'd been circling for an hour. The woman unbuttoned her blouse, and Sandra laughed softly, shifting against him.
"Finally," she said. "I thought this movie would never stop teasing."
Tony's hand moved of its own accord, sliding down from her stomach to her thigh. Her skin was smooth there, just above the hem of her panties. He traced a slow circle with his thumb, and Sandra's breath hitched.
"You're in a mood," she said, turning her head to look at him.
He didn't answer. He just let his fingers wander higher, dragging the thin fabric of her panties aside enough to touch the wet heat beneath. Sandra made a small sound, somewhere between surprise and approval, and leaned up to kiss him.
Her mouth was eager, insistent, and Tony let himself sink into it. He rolled her onto her back, his hand still between her legs, working her clit in slow, practiced circles. Sandra moaned against his mouth, arching into him.
"I want to see you," she breathed, tugging at the hem of her tank top.
Tony pulled it over her head, revealing her heavy breasts. They were full and soft, her nipples dark and already hard. He took one in his mouth, sucking hard, and Sandra gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.
"Do you like that?" she whispered, and Tony grunted an approximation of agreement.
He worked her nipples with his tongue and teeth, then shifted his attention lower. He hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them down her thighs, and she lifted her hips to help him. In the blue glow of the television, her body spread out beneath him, plush and inviting.
Tony sat back, unzipping his jeans. He was already hard, his cock straining against his boxers, and he pulled those down just enough to free it. Sandra reached for him, stroking him with a practiced grip, and Tony groaned.
He pushed her head down. A gentle pressure, but clear. He wanted her mouth on him.
But Sandra shook her head, a small, apologetic smile playing on her lips. "Not tonight," she said. "I want to feel you."
Before he could argue, she straddled him. She gripped his cock at the base and guided him to her entrance, sinking down with a long, wet moan. The heat of her engulfed him, slick and tight, and Tony's head fell back against the couch.
"Fuck," he muttered.
Sandra set a rhythm, riding him hard, her hips grinding against his in a way she knew he liked. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and Tony grabbed her waist, guiding her, using her body the way she offered it to him. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, wet and rhythmic.
It was good. It was better than good, the way she knew exactly how to move to squeeze every drop of pleasure from him. Tony's hands found her ass, gripping the generous flesh, pulling her down harder onto his cock.
But even as she moaned above him, her eyes half closed, Tony's mind drifted.
Jeany's mouth. The way she had taken him all the way down, her throat opening to accept him without hesitation. The way she had looked up at him, eyes glistening, lips swollen, while she worked him with her tongue. He remembered the first time, early in their marriage, when she had climbed off the bed and knelt between his thighs without being asked. She had smiled, a little wicked, and said, "I've been thinking about this all day."
She hadn't asked for anything first. She had just given.
Sandra's pace quickened, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Tony," she gasped. "I'm close."
He looked at her, but in the flickering light he saw Jeany's face instead. Her hair loose and golden, her body curved and strong from years of yoga. The way she had looked at him in the studio that afternoon, like she was seeing him for the first time in years.
"Come," he said, the word rough in his throat.
Sandra shuddered above him, crying out as her climax hit, and the sensation pulled Tony over the edge with her. He came deep inside her, his hands gripping her hips as he emptied himself, his body aching with a satisfaction that felt hollow seconds later.
Sandra collapsed against his chest, breathing hard, her lips brushing his neck. "That was good," she whispered.
"Yeah," Tony said, staring at the ceiling.
The girl on the screen was getting dressed again, the scene over. Sandra shifted off him, reaching for her tank top, and Tony pulled his jeans back up. The silence between them was comfortable enough, but the space in his chest was full of another woman's voice.
"What are you thinking about?" Sandra asked, lying back against the couch cushions.
"Nothing," Tony said. "Just the movie."
She hummed, accepting it. She reached for the remote and replayed a scene from earlier, some action sequence she'd missed, and Tony let the noise wash over him. But his mind was still in the yoga studio, still watching Jeany stretch in front of the tall windows.
He wondered if she was thinking about him too.