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“Shitty day?” The bartender sounds both sympathetic and amused as he places a fresh glass of Murphy’s in front of Frank. Frank looks up from his phone, puts it screen-down on the wooden surface of the bar and sighs.
“Something like that.”
He reaches for the tall glass, the motion sending a sharp stab of pain from his arm all the way through his glutes, making him gasp. His back is fucking killing him, as it always is after a shift like today’s.
He’s been coming here a lot lately, to this quaint little Irish sports bar located on the other side of town that Robby introduced him to after his first really bad shift back when he was still a fresh-faced, eternally optimistic intern. It’s a nice place and, in Frank’s opinion, it sure as hell beats driving around the city aimlessly after a shift, knowing full well Abby doesn’t want him to come home before she’s put the children to bed and gone to bed herself, or passed out on the couch in front of the latest episode of whatever reality show she’s currently watching. He can’t say that he blames her.
He checks his phone again to see if Abby’s texted him. Nope. The only text she sent today was a curt reminder that he needs to stop by the store on his way home and get diapers for the baby. It’s a miracle that she texted him at all after the fight they had this morning in the kitchen before he left for work. The baby had been screaming throughout the whole thing, her little face all red and screwed up in anger. She had looked so much like Abby in that moment that it had given Frank pause.
“Band-aid baby, huh?” Garcia had said knowingly when they announced the surprise pregnancy a year ago, which would have offended Frank if anyone else had said it but her. Truth is, she hadn’t been entirely wrong. Having a third child was probably a bad idea, but Abby and Frank were at least speaking to each other without fighting back then and he had figured that maybe a new baby was just what they needed. Penny would get a baby sister close to her age, which is what all girls want, right? Besides, he’d seen his and Abby’s friends from college’s posts on Instagram when they had a third kid: “Our little family is complete now!” with a heart emoji and a cute photo of the older kids holding their baby sibling, all wearing white or beige or pastels.
Frank ended up being wrong, as he so often is lately. The baby didn’t fix things. He doesn’t regret her, of course; he loves his youngest daughter to the moon and back. He’s just not so sure he still loves her mother, or that her mother still loves him.
Frank will be an Attending in ten months and maybe it’s a fool’s hope, but it feels like everything might work itself out then. He’ll make more money. They can afford a full-time nanny. Abby can go back to work, if she wants to. He can move them all into a bigger house, with separate rooms for all the kids and a big backyard, much closer to the hospital. He can work fewer hours, spend more time at home. Maybe they can go to couples’ therapy. It’ll be fine. Or so he tells himself.
Frank sighs again. He knows he’s a pretty good dad, but a shitty husband in lots of ways, probably, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. A small, mean, petty part of him that he usually keeps buried deep doesn’t even know if he wants to fix it, is the truth. He even forgot to put on his ring this morning, the faint tan line visible on his left hand the only evidence that he’s a married man. He takes another swig of the stout and scrubs a hand over his face. The alcohol helps, both with his glum thoughts and the pressing ache in his back, for neither of which there seems to be a long term fix.
He looks around the bar, taking in his surroundings for the first time since he got here. There are not that many people in here, since it’s just a Thursday night, but his gaze snags on a woman sitting a few stools down from him.
There’s a Pirates game playing on the wall-mounted TV behind the bar and she seems pretty transfixed by it, her head tipped back, mouth slightly open. Her honey blonde hair is tied back in a low, sensible braid, and she keeps a firm grasp around her non-alcoholic beer bottle, fingers swiping over the damp label in a repetitive motion, over and over again. She’s wearing a blue sundress that’s ridden up a bit on her pale, freckle-dusted thighs. It’s scorching hot both outside and inside, unusual for early September, and there’s a fan in the corner of the bar whirring away. It makes the blonde strands of hair blow about her flushed face. For some reason, something about this woman makes Frank’s stomach tighten, a chill travelling up his spine that has nothing to do with his back injury. He wets his lips, transfixed.
As if she can feel his eyes on her, she turns to look at him and startles a little when she finds him looking back. She has glasses on and her light brown eyes widen behind them. It makes Frank smile and before his brain fully knows what he’s doing, he’s draining the final drops of his beer, getting up from his stool and walking over to her.
“Hi,” he says when he’s standing by the stool next to her, pointing at it like a dork. “Do you mind?”
“Oh! No, not at all.” Her voice is a lot deeper than he thought it would be, and he fights back another shiver.
He sticks his hand out lamely. “I’m Frank.”
She smiles a little and shakes it. Her hand is soft and it sends a little thrill right to his core. He swallows thickly. What the fuck is happening to him?
“I’m Melissa, but everyone calls me Mel.”
“Nice to meet you, Mel.” He likes the way her name feels in his mouth. Mel. He likes the taste of it. Mel.
She laughs. “Nice to meet you too, Frank.”
He sits down next to her. “Can I buy you another drink?”
She smiles again and this time her cheeks dimple. “Sure! I’ll have a ginger ale, please.”
Frank orders a G and T for himself and a ginger ale for Mel, telling the bartender to put it on his tab. He can feel the weight of the bar man's bemused look, probably wondering what he’s doing. Does he know that Frank is married? Whatever. Frank doesn’t give a fuck right now, not when Mel is still smiling at him, slowly sipping her ginger ale. He watches her throat bob as she swallows.
He looks up at the TV, trying to focus on something else. “You, uh, you watching the game?”
She nods. “I don’t really understand what’s going on though. I’ve never been to a baseball game and I’ve never really watched one on TV, either.”
“What—never? Are you, like, Canadian or something?”
She shakes her head. “That’s kind of … well that’s kind of why I’m here. I never go out to bars, either, but I promised my sister, Becca, that I would try new things.” Mel laughs a little, like she’s embarrassed. “She even made me a list and everything. So.”She clasps her hands in front of her. “Here I am. We live just around the corner. Well, I do; she lives in an independent living center, most nights. She loves it there. Sorry, I’m rambling. I always talk a lot when I’m nervous.” She blushes as she’s saying all of this, looking down on her hands, like maybe she’s not used to someone actually listening to her as she speaks without interrupting. It’s adorable and tantalizing at the same time.
“Breathe,” Frank chuckles. He wants to ask her why she’s feeling so nervous, if he’s the one making her nervous. He is so intrigued by this woman that he feels giddy, an emotion he can’t recall feeling in a long time. He can’t stop smiling. “That sounds like fun. Are you and your sister close?”
Mel brightens at this and looks up again, warm brown eyes meeting his. “Oh, yeah! We’re best friends. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. It would make her very happy if I, uh, in her words ‘got a life’.”
Frank laughs again and takes a sip of his drink. “So what are some other new things she wants you to try?”
“Well,” she frowns, “I was supposed to get drunk at a bar, but I don’t really want to do that alone and I start a new job tomorrow, so …”
“You don’t want to be hungover, got it.” He nods and looks over at the bartender, thinking it over. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you half a shot of vodka. Then you can say that you’ve technically been drinking, but half a shot won’t make you hungover, I promise.” Trust me, I’m a doctor, he almost says, but stops himself. He knows from past experiences that it makes it sound like he’s either lying or bragging and for some reason he really wants to look good in front of Mel.
She chews her lip, considering this, then she nods and smiles. “Okay, thank you, Frank.” His hand clenches around his drink and the tan line on his left ring finger whitens. Fuck, he loves the way she says his name in that deep rasp of hers.
He waves over the bartender again and, when they’ve received their shots of Absolut, clinks his full glass against her half-full one. “Here’s to your new job. And to trying new things.”
She grins, her nose crinkling, and ducks her head. “To trying new things.”
The alcohol burns his throat going down and beside him, Mel coughs, making a face, putting her fingers to her lips.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. That's pretty terrible.”
Frank hums affirmatively and laughs. “At least now you can say that you’ve been drinking in a bar, huh? Check that right off.” He makes a corny checked motion with his hand as he says this, like a total nerd.
“Right.” She smiles. It makes him feel all warm inside.
“So," he clears his throat, changing the subject again. "What are some other items on the list that you’ve done or want to do?”
Mel starts talking about signing up for hot yoga classes but finding it miserable, and trying sky diving for the first time and ending up liking it, and going to the Pittsburgh Renaissance Fair last week for the first time, dressing up as a French milkmaid. Frank’s brain sort of short-circuits at that, but he manages to choke out he’s never been to the Renaissance Fair, but that he loved going to the Fort Pitt Museum when he was a kid and she nods along, beaming at him.
“That sounds so cool! Maybe I should add that to the list! Here, you can add it if you want.”
She opens the notes app on her phone, scrolls to the end of a long list and sticks it in his hand. As he’s typing Go to the Fort Pitt Museum, pondering if he should add (with Frank), he can see another item on the list right above it, standing out as if it’s been written in large block letters. Have a one-night stand, it says. Frank stares for a full five seconds before Mel snatches the phone away, cheeks reddening.
“That’s, um—Becca added that as a joke, I think.” She won’t look at him and the silence grows and twists between them, awkward and tense and thick.
Frank swallows before clearing his throat. Maybe it’s the alcohol making him so bold and reckless, but before he can stop himself he can hear himself saying: “Well I’m happy to help. If you want to, uh—try other new things.”
Her head snaps up at that, mouth slightly agape as she stares at him. He looks right back, heart thundering in his ribcage, and licks his lips. He can see her eyes tracking the movement.
“I—you mean it?”
He nods. “I mean it.” His voice is hoarse and sounds fucked up even to his own ears. He absentmindedly traces his left ring finger, the absence of the gold band obvious. What the fuck is he doing?
He places his hand on her bare thigh, squeezing slightly. No, really, what the fuck is he doing? He won’t blame her if she slaps his hand away and throws the ginger ale in his face. But she doesn’t.
He can feel Mel’s muscles jump under his touch and her eyes flutter closed. She swallows and nods quickly.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, um—okay. Let’s go.”
What, now? Frank wants to ask, but she's already gathering her things, drinking the last of her ginger ale. He almost falls off the stool in his hurry to get up himself. He decidedly doesn’t look the bartender in the eye as he pays for their drinks. He’s pretty sure he can never return to this bar, at least not with his wedding ring on his finger.
It’s even muggier outside as Mel walks him to her apartment and she’s right, it really is just around the corner. She’s completely silent the whole walk and won’t look at him.
This is such a bad idea, Frank thinks. Such a bad fucking idea. It should alarm him, how instantly attracted he is to this woman, how he’s half-hard already, how he’s eager to cheat on his wife with her. He never used to think that blondes were his type; his two high school girlfriends were both brunettes and he has always loved Abby’s chestnut brown hair, but watching the golden strands of Mel’s hair glimmer underneath the street lights is making his mouth water now.
She lives on the second floor of a cute brick building and she leads him up the creaking stairs, still quiet. After she has unlocked her door and let them both in she leans against it, wringing her hands, still not looking at him.
“I usually never do this.” Her voice is quiet.
He almost wants to laugh and say no shit, considering this was on the list and all that, but she’s clearly feeling stressed out, so he doesn’t.
“Hey.” He crowds her against the door, tipping her face up with his fingers, making her look at him. Her eyes are dark brown in the low light.
“If you want me to leave, I’ll leave,” he says, softly. “That’s totally fine.”
Her eyes search his face and she smiles a little at whatever she finds there.
“No,” she says eventually, swallowing thickly. “No, I—I want to.” Her eyes drop to his mouth and back up again. He leans forward, letting his breath ghost over her mouth, waiting for her to make the move.
Frank hasn’t kissed another woman since he was 18 years old. He thinks about Abby. He thinks about how they haven’t had sex since that awkward and quick fuck that resulted in their adorable baby girl, how he’s been fine with that. Marriages go through dry patches, and it’s not like he’s been in the mood either with his back pain and work schedule and everything. In all their years together, he hasn’t even as much as considered being with another woman. You can say a lot of things about him and his shitty husband skills, but Frank Langdon has always been faithful. Until now.
Mel pushes up on her tiptoes and touches her lips against his, just a soft brush of her mouth. She does it again, sighing a little this time, mouth opening under his and he groans, pressing harder against her, cupping the back of her neck and swallowing her gasp as he pushes his tongue into her mouth. He cards a hand through her silky hair, loosening her braid, and greedily grabs her waist with the other, pulling her flush against him, knowing she can probably feel how hard for her he already is. He can’t remember the last time he was this instantly turned on, the pressure almost uncomfortable as he grinds his cock into her, seeking relief through the layers of clothing. She moans a little; her small, warm hands grabbing his biceps and pressing against his stomach.
He’s kissing his way down her jaw and neck when she places her hands on his chest and lightly pushes him away.
“Wait, wait.” She sounds breathless.
He pulls back. Her face is flushed a deep crimson red, lips swollen, her hair made a mess by his hands. It really should scare Frank, how desperate he is to sleep with a woman who is really just a stranger to him. How his hands are practically itching to touch her and get her off and make her feel good. How he’s apparently willing to crush his wedding vows to dust under his heel right here on the floor of her apartment. But there’s something about Mel that’s making his entire world tilt on its axis.
“We should, maybe, um … move to my bedroom?”
He nods eagerly. Sounds like a good idea to him. A great idea even. Yeah.
“Uh-huh. Let’s do that.”
He trails her like a dog on a leash as she leads her through her apartment by the hand. It’s a cozy place. Warm and homey. It tugs at something inside of him, thinking about his own house, how it hasn’t felt homey in a long time.
Once they’re in her bedroom he moves his hands to her face and kisses her again, a lot more desperately this time, his fingers tight on her jaw. He walks backwards until his knees hit the bed, forcing him to sit down, and he pulls her toward him by the backs of her slender thighs, tilting his face up to keep kissing her. He gets his hands underneath her sundress and smoothes his hands up her legs and hisses into her mouth when he touches her underwear, feeling the wet patch in the middle. Fuck.
“You’re so wet already, baby,” he murmurs, the pet name slipping out without him even thinking, and she keens at that, biting her lip and pressing closer to him, grinding down on his hand as he rubs his thumb lightly over the damp fabric. “Is that all for me?”
She nods, closing her eyes, like even looking at him is causing sensory overload. “Mm-hmm.”
He almost wants to ask her how long she’s been wet for, if she was already turned on in the bar, but before he can ask she’s climbing into his lap, apparently as eager as he is to get this show on the road, knees on either side of him. He helps her pull her dress off in one quick motion. He groans at the sight of her. Fucking hell. She’s not wearing a bra. He presses his mouth against her sternum, kissing the soft swell of her breasts, sucking and licking one of her nipples until she gasps, pushing her fingers into his hair and tugging. With a pang, he realizes he can’t remember the last time somebody touched his hair.
He reluctantly moves on from her breasts and grabs Mel’s hips to flip them both over. She gasps a little and he grins at that, rising up on his knees and taking his own shirt off. She unashamedly gawks at his chest, reaching up to trace her fingers through his chest hair, circling his navel and pawing at his pecs, seemingly mesmerized. He melts into her exploration, humming contentedly.
“Like what you see?” Frank teases and she nods.
“Yeah.” Mel looks into his eyes from under her eyelashes, chewing at her lip. “I—Yeah. Very much.”
He leans down, covering her body with his, and they make out like that for a while, the kisses eventually turning sloppy and needy. His erection is pressing into her and she keeps pushing her hips up, making frustrated little mewling sounds. He laughs at her impatience, kissing his way down her body, the salty taste of the sweat on her skin already making his head spin.
When Frank reaches the soft jut of her hipbone he stands up and she groans at the loss of contact, blindly reaching for him. He smirks and tugs his pants off, palming his hard-on through his briefs, grasping her ankle and pulling her down to the edge of the bed. She yelps as he drags her panties down her legs and off a little awkwardly, quickly kneeling in front of her on the floor, pushing her legs apart. His back smarts, but he couldn't give less of a fuck right now.
He takes in the sight and smell of her and almost moans. Her pussy is fucking perfect. Of course it is. He places a kiss just above her pubic bone, dragging his fingers through her wetness. Mel twitches underneath him and makes a sound, trying to close her legs. He looks up at her where she’s balancing on her elbows, frowning. Her face is very red.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just, um … you don’t have to. If you don’t want to.”
He stares. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I want to?”
She looks at him for a moment before putting her head down on the bed. “Okay,” she says. “If you say so.”
Frank briefly wonders if no one’s ever wanted to eat her out before. Or if she’s had a bad experience with it. The thought thrills him a little as he ducks down, nosing at the inside of her thigh, making her shiver. He’ll be the one to show her just how fucking good it can be.
“Just relax, baby,” he whispers against her overheated skin, before putting his mouth on her. She writhes and gasps and almost pulls her hips away, before he can feel the tension leaving her and she pushes closer instead.
“Oh fuck,” Mel says with feeling, clapping a hand over her mouth, and he smiles against her flesh. Her fingers are frantically grasping for his hair again and he revels in the feeling.
Frank licks and sucks from her cunt to her clit, trying to find a good rhythm, listening to the sounds she’s making. He adds a finger to her wet heat and then another and she gasps, clenching down on him.
“Oh, oh … shit, I mean—that’s … oh!”
Frank should definitely feel guilty. He probably will tomorrow, when he has to wake up next to his wife, but he can’t bring himself to give a fuck right now, not when Mel—whose name he didn't even know an hour ago—is whimpering above him, babbling nonsense, abs twitching where he’s laid his arm across her belly to hold her in place. The taste of her is tangy and sweet on his tongue and he'd would stay here forever, he thinks, if she'd let him.
Mel clenches down on him again and moans, high and needy. He can feel that she’s close so he curls his fingers against her walls, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on her clit. That does it; she goes tense and completely silent, hips and back lifting off the bed like a bowstring, before moaning so loudly he’s pretty sure her neighbors can hear her. Her cunt pulses around his fingers as he works her through it, muttering calming praises into her skin. He almost comes himself just from the taste and feel and sound of her alone, and he has to close his eyes and slow his breathing. Fucking hell.
He eventually releases his grip on her and crawls up the bed, bracketing her face with his arms. “Mel? You okay?”
She nods pliantly and opens her eyes, pulling him down for a kiss, licking into his mouth and sighing contentedly. She hooks her ankle over his and reaches down to boldly brush her hand over his erection, making his hips twitch. She smiles at his reaction and something stirs in his chest.
“You want me to fuck you for real now?” he mumbles against her mouth before pulling back to look at her. Her eyes widen a little at his words. Then she licks her lips and swallows.
“Yes, please.”
He stands up again and steps out of his briefs, finally freeing his aching erection, wrapping his hand around the base, pumping up and down once, swiping his thumb over the head. He sighs, leaning his head back, wondering briefly how long he’s going to last. Mel watches him with interest and yelps as he suddenly kneels over her, putting an arm around her back and lifting her farther up the bed so her head is against the pillows.
“This okay?”
She nods, panting a little, leaning back and spreading her legs wide this time. Fuck that’s hot. Her cunt is glistening and he rewards her with a few soft strokes to her clit before fisting his dick again, using his other hand to pull her leg up over his hip and ribs. He teases his cock against her entrance, pushing in and pulling out with little pulsing motions.
“Ready?”
She looks up at him, nodding breathlessly. “Yeah.”
He pushes into her slowly, all the way in, groaning in tandem with her. It feels unbelievably good, the walls of her cunt tight and velvety, her nails digging into his shoulder and the meaty part of his neck so hard it almost hurts. His dick throbs and he has to take a breath, squeeze his eyes closed. He also gives her a moment to get used to the size of him before moving, pulling out and gingerly pushing in again. It doesn’t take long before she’s moaning for real, her legs squeezing his sides and meeting his thrusts.
He leans back on his knees and slows his pace, giving his back a break, and also allowing him a great view of his cock easing in and out of her, covered in his pre-cum and her slick. It’s so sexy, she’s so sexy, and he’s about to tell her so when he freezes, before hurriedly pulling out of her, ignoring her weak protests.
The last time he did this he got his wife pregnant. Shit. Of course he’s forgotten the basic courtesy rules of having a one-night stand.
“Fuck, I just remembered, I don’t have a uh—a condom? I’m sorry. I mean, I’m totally clean and maybe you’re, uh, on birth control?” he stammers, like an idiot.
Mel is staring up at him like he’s started speaking in another language, before shaking her head slowly. “I want to feel you, um—you know—inside of me.” Fuck. She flushes an even deeper shade of crimson. “I mean I have an, an IUD and I’m clean too—”
He leans down to kiss her. “That’s very responsible of you, baby.” He lowers his voice. “You want me to come inside of you, hmm? Is that it?”
She nods frantically, forehead bumping his, closing her eyes as he slowly pushes into her again until he bottoms out.
“Good girl.”
She gasps at that, her hips angling up.
He cocks his head, pulling back a little and searching her face. “You like being told you’re good?”
She nods again, averting her gaze like she’s ashamed to admit it. “Uh-huh.”
He takes her chin between his thumb and forefinger, making her look at him.
“You’re being so good. Such a good girl, taking my cock like this.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust and she gasps, her fingers back in his hair and pulling at his scalp so hard it stings.
He can tell she’s already close again, her walls fluttering and trembling around him, her moans getting louder and louder. He works his hand between them and sloppily circles her clit, changing the angle of his thrusts and that does the trick.
“Oh, oh, don’t stop, don’t—”
He fucks her through her come down, panting and then pulling out with a wet plop, clenching his buttocks and breathing slowly through his nose to keep himself from coming, before turning her over. She’s boneless and soft in his arms, panting into the pillow, letting him pull her ass up into the air, adjusting and arranging her the way he wants just so. Her cunt is even more beautiful now, red and swollen and sopping wet from his ministrations and Frank just stares for a moment. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. He runs a hand from her neck, tracing all of her vertebrae before gripping her hips and stroking her ass soothingly.
“You still doing okay, Mel?”
“Mh-mm,” comes her muffled reply.
He teases her folds with his cock and her cunt flexes, like she’s trying to draw him in. It makes his throat feel dry. “You can give me one more, can’t you?” He sounds almost desperate as he says it. Maybe he is.
“Dunno, I’ve never—”
“You’ve never … what? Use your words.”
She sighs, squirming a little. “I’ve never come more than once in one night.”
“Well,” he smiles cheekily. “Now you have.”
She laughs weakly, which turns into a moan as he pushes into her warm, wet heat again without warning.
Maybe he’s greedy for wanting her to come a third time, but he wants her to feel good. He wants so badly for her to remember this, to remember him. He squeezes her boobs and waist and ass, stroking her ribs and back, pulling her a little harder against him by her shoulder and hip, forcing her to arch her back, thrusting a little faster. This angle is very deep, and he can tell it might be overwhelming for her by the sounds she’s making, nonsensical noises and moaning. He’s close himself but tries to hold on, tries to get her there first.
Mel keens. “Frank, I’m—I’m gonna …”
He hums his approval, and she gasps, clenching around him. “It’s okay—fuck.” He grits his teeth. “Let it go, Mel.”
Just as she careens over the edge he does too, a second later, pleasure blooming at the base of his spine and exploding, so intensely that his vision goes white for a second. He groans and tries to ride it out with uneven thrusts, before collapsing unceremoniously on top of her, feeling his dick twitch and empty inside of her, just like she wanted. He tries catching his breath, his entire chest heaving. His muscles are like jelly, trembling and completely useless.
“Fuck,” he pants into her neck, kissing her shoulder blades. “Fuck, that was amazing.”
Mel mewls a little in reply, patting his arm.
Once Frank’s breathing has slowed, he pulls out of her and he allows himself to hold her close for a bit, to stroke and lap lazily at her sweaty skin. He can tell he’s about to fall asleep though, and that would be disastrous in a number of ways, so he forces himself to sit up, wincing a little, looking her over. Mel's neck and chest and back are littered with red, damp marks and her hair is totally ruined, fanning out across her pillow. His cum is leaking out of her and he feels a strange sense of pride at that, and kisses his way down her spine.
“You did so good, Mel,” he mumbles against her ass before pulling away and getting up off the bed. He can see her smiling into the pillow, cum-drunk, eyes half-lidded, watching him as he puts his clothes back on.
Frank staggers to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper to clean her up. He can barely walk, his legs are so wobbly and his back is aching, so how he’s going to be able to drive home is a fucking mystery. He should probably encourage her to use the bathroom herself, but she’s almost asleep by the time he’s wiped their bodily fluids from her body and sheets so he just pulls a blanket over her.
“It was nice to meet you, Mel,” Frank says, earnestly. “Guess you can check one-night stand off your list now, huh?”
She smiles dazedly up at him, words slightly slurred, yawning. “Yeah. It was nice to meet you too, Frank.”
He feels his chest tighten, swallowing down whatever emotion that’s threatening to surface. She looks so soft and content and happy.
He doesn’t offer to give her his number and she doesn’t ask for it.
He swings by her kitchen on his way out, finding a bottle of water in the fridge that he puts next to the lava lamp on her bedside table so she’ll have easy access to it when she wakes up. She’s fully asleep by the time he places a light kiss to her still-sweaty brow.
“Goodnight,” he whispers. “And goodbye, Mel.”
As he drives home to his wife, stopping by the 24/7 Walmart to buy diapers on the way, the taste of Mel is still lingering on his tongue. He’ll probably never meet her again, which he tries hard not to think about, but tells himself it’s for the best. His life is a mess most of the time and it’s up to him to fix it. Mel deserves better than to be the other woman, and probably wouldn't even want to be if she knew about his marital status. And wasn’t just a one-night stand what she was asking for? She probably never wants to see him again. It’s like he can see clearly now—post-nut clarity or whatever the fuck it’s called. He’ll wean himself off the drugs, for good this time. He’ll work his ass off at work and in less than a year's time he’ll make triple the salary he’s making now. He’ll buy Abby something nice. Maybe that Birkin bag she’s always talking about. He’ll never forget to put on his wedding ring ever again. He’ll fix this.
As for Mel … he’ll keep her as a nice little memory. A secret that he can maybe take out from time to time and remember fondly. He’ll repress the urge to look her up on Instagram or whatever. It’s for the best, he tells himself. Yeah. Totally for the best.
—
The next day, Frank’s wedding ring is back on his finger. He showered when he got home last night and tossed his sweaty, sex-smelling clothes in the wash, only feeling a little guilty. He fed the baby formula when she woke up in the night so Abby could get more rest, and when he left for work this morning, the chilly mood between him and his wife had thawed somewhat. He’s feeling good, like things are looking up for the first time in a long time.
He’s standing in the pitt, surveying the board, grinning and downing his first Red Bull of the day.
“Nothing like a challenge every now and then to keep everybody on their toes.”
He's lazily surveying the crowd standing by the admin desk and when he spots her. The entire world stops turning. No, it can’t be.
But that’s her blonde braid right there: neat again after unraveling in his fingers last night. A faint hickey on her neck that she’s clearly tried to cover up, from his teeth. He thinks about her coming on his tongue, on his cock. The memory of the taste and feel of her is burned into his brain.
She’s wearing scrubs and a stethoscope around her neck and a doctor’s badge clipped to her hip. She’s standing next to Robby, who’s saying something Frank can’t make out. It’s like his entire body has been dunked in a frozen pond; he can’t move, he can’t hear, he can’t think.
Then her voice cuts through the static of his brain. It’s even raspier than it was yesterday; still hoarse, maybe, from him making her scream.
“Hi.” She’s wringing her hands, which he now knows means she’s nervous, and smiles, cheeks dimpling, and just like last night it makes his stomach twist. “Everyone calls me Mel.”
And again, just like last night, as if she can sense his eyes on her, Mel turns to look at him. Her brown eyes widen behind her glasses.
Oh, Frank thinks. Oh fuck.