Rose Garden Filled with Thorns (closed)

CarnivalBarker

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"Riley, over here! Riley! Riley is that Vera Wang?!" The voices were shouted at her more than to her, and she knew that she need not answer any of them. She had done this for years, ever since she had turned sixteen, been let out of her ABC contract, and hired an agent that had worked to make her image less child star and more attainable, budding sex symbol. While most kids' parents may have objected, she was not most kids.

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Riley Cameron had grown up the daughter of a commodities-trading fund executive and an Oscar winning actress. Her parents' connections had gotten her a role on a small sitcom when she was three, and she graduated to the pre-teen shows of Disney when she was eleven. While none could predict that she would age as she had, producers knew they had a gold mine when, at fourteen, she had captured the attention of every school boy under college-age, and her television show, Tuesday's Troubles, took off, becoming the largest and most successful youth franchise since Hannah Montana. Her mother, being from the industry, knew how contracts worked and ensured that she had full control over royalties and a producer credit. That meant a lifetime stream of income once the show became what it became, which was a generational touchstone for anyone growing up at the same time she did. And for that same generation, she would always be the girl that other girls wanted to be friends with and that the boys just....wanted.

Now Riley was established as a commodity, every bit the fashion draw as much, or really more, than the desired actress of Hollywood. In fact, her roles today were few and far between. After leaving Disney, her people opened a cosmetics and clothing line, releasing her products in every large retail outlet along the East Coast and with steady and long term streams of income, she never had to work again if she chose. The situation suited her. She was more Kardashian than Jennifer Lawrence, but that also meant she was away from the glaring pressure to answer the question whether she would see the silver screen successes that her mother had seen before, for which she was grateful. And now, as tonight, she was still invited to the best Hollywood parties, premieres, and events, with the hosts typically just wanting her present to bolster their own celebrity and cachet.

As the cameras flashed at the entrance to the premiere of her mother's latest film, the New York City paparazzi shouted for her love and attention. And though she smiled and hid her annoyance, her real focus was on where, exactly, her husband was. He had called moments before the driver arrived at their hotel and said he would have to meet her at the premiere, which meant she would arrive alone. She knew that always meant another round of "are they together or not" tabloid stories, which didn't bother her so much as bore her, since she had to address the questions over and over again for weeks, until whenever their latest joint appearance would be. They had met when she was only 20, though he was 34. The age gap had not bothered her parents and, at the time, she found him captivating, charming, and beautiful. She still felt....something, for him. But while that something was, at times, exotic, electric, and powerful, she was equally likely to hate him, feel contempt with him, or be bored with him. She suspected he was sleeping with the teenage assistant he had hired the year the girl entered college, though she had no room of her own to complain, having been "rumored" to hook up when he wasn't looking herself. Through it all, they typically left such matters silent and out of public view, coming together on nights such as these to preserve their fortunes from a divorce proceeding and the prying eyes of the media. Live and let live, she thought, so long as he did the same. The problem tonight, however, was that she was set to begin a three week guest stint on Law and Order, which meant she would be staying in New York, filming there and in Boston, while he flew back to Los Angeles, where they kept a nice, large home in the hills overlooking the ocean and the city below. It meant three weeks of the questions.

"Hey Ry," she heard a voice approach behind her, just before turning to see the handsome supporting actor of the film she was about to see, Jonathan Crow. Crow was thirty five and in line to be the heir to the legacy of George Clooney. Preternaturally handsome, with no sign of aging anything but gracefully, the man was single, a commodity in Hollywood, and an unquestionable leading man for decades to come. Her eyes smiled as broadly as her mouth as she turned to say hello. No sooner had she done so, he greeted her with a warm, simply friendly hug and kiss upon her cheek.

"Hey Jon," she said.

"Where is Blaine?" he asked, away from the ears of any paparazzo at the distant photography line, leaving them only to fill in the imaginary, flirtatious conversation they conjured up and wanted to report. While they would be wrong, they actually wouldn't be far off. She certainly wondered if Jon Crow was available at the moment and would not mind finding out.

"He's on his way," she said. "He had some late work that kept him." The movie star with her stood a moment and offered his arm to escort her into the premiere.

"Well let's go inside," he said. She smiled again and took his arm, walking in with him, then quickly outside the eyes of any media, again leaving them to create a narrative of their choice. A while later, shortly before the movie was set to begin, as she mingled with Crow and others, including her mother, wine in hand, she saw her husband sneak through the entrance nearly undetected, finally ready to be by her side. As he did, she released Crow's hand, hoping he hadn't seen it. She didn't want to have the fight now, if she could avoid it.

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"There you are," she said, clearly annoyed, but where nobody could hear, as he approached. "Where have you been?"
 
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Okay, no takers. I'm actually going to just write this one myself, suckers!! I hope you all enjoy....
 
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Blaine Kennedy gave an annoyed scowl toward his wife upon hearing her words. He knew exactly the arrow to fire from his quiver.

"The Markets are always working and never outgrow their usefulness," he said as he kissed her cheek so as only she could hear. He pulled back with a wry grin, looking proud of his wife for the crowds, while beaming only at the free and easy shot he had taken. He had grown wealthy on Wall Street years ago, first at Goldman, then replacing Jamie Dimon at JP Morgan. Having excelled at banking and finance at a young age gave him the freedom to pursue other pursuits and one of those had been the creation of an investment group that sought to bring an NFL team to Los Angeles. While he had always been an east coast guy, the warm weather and beautiful women of California suited him, and he had made the golden state his home when he was thirty. It was there, however, that he had first met Steven Frates, an angel investor in a number of tech startups in San Francisco, whose owners and CEOs Blaine coveted for their business. Soon, he had struck a friendship with Frates, who later introduced him to a number of the West coast elite, including many who found their way to Frates' Gatsby style parties in the hills over L.A. It was at one such party that Blaine had first noticed the golden skinned girl with the firm body and tight build - Riley Cameron, with whose work he had been unfamiliar, never having kids of his own to inform him of her popular appeal. Making a swift introduction, he learned she was the daughter of an incredibly famous actress, and though Riley was only twenty, he found her ever more appealing. Weeks later, he asked Frates for a number and, while at first hesitant, the financier set them up on a first get together which all involved hesitated to call a date. A quick and raging year later, they were married in a small, private ceremony in Aspen.

"It's not like you were having problems finding company," he nodded toward Jon Crow.

"Fuck you, Blaine," she replied as he stepped past her and toward the bar, where he ordered an Old Fashioned with Rye whiskey. She watched him move away before turning back and walking toward a group where her mother now stood. Blaine got his drink and turned with a coy smirk to look over the gathered crowd. Hollywood was never his scene, certainly more for his wife. Years ago, she had been a shark in these waters, the fierce, dangerous creature everyone sought to contain, though none could. He had never tamed her himself, though the dark nights overlooking magnificent views and vistas as he pistoned in and out of her tiny body in an effort to do so were as close as any had seemingly come. It had been a torrid affair at the time, he still married, though separated, from his first wife of seven years. He had enjoyed the tabloid attention a bit, but Riley had eaten it up, playing to it as much as possible, and he grew to resent it when she quit working steadily, instead hamming for the cameras in New York, Las Vegas, London, Rio, and anywhere else she could spend his money and waste her own time.

He stepped from the bar, then listened as the studio attendants began ushering people into the theater. He noticed a cute attendant, perhaps no more than twenty, standing near the entrance and cast a wink in her direction as he sipped from her drink. He turned to look over his shoulder and quickly made eyes with Riley, arms crossed and head cocked as if asking him if he seriously dared to disrespect her in front of these people. He shrugged and finished his drink before clenching his jaw and walking toward her, offering his arm to go into the movie.

"Shall we?" He asked in monotone. Riley looked at him for a moment in silence. Then, she opened her crossed arms, placing one inside his own.

"Don't act like I don't know," she said. He raised his eyebrows.

"Don't act like you're not a whore, either," came his pointed response. Knowing they would step along a windowed corrider where the photographers outside would see, the girl put on a grin as if he had said the most delightful thing ever while they walked past the cameras lenses. She was a pro at making things seem perfect.

"Don't even think about staying in the apartment tonight," She responded, maintaining her grin.

"One of us should," he said, jabbing her again, referencing the opportunity she might have with Jon Crow, or perhaps another. She smirked at him, begrudgingly impressed and also holding down a fury just beneath the surface. As they stepped into the theater, she unclasped his hand and stepped down the aisles away from him, intending in no way to sit with him any longer than necessary. He swatted her ass playfully in the dark, finding it remarkable still just how firm it was and how much he liked it even though he often couldn't stand his wife. She was still good for something. She turned with a slight start before continuing on her way.

"Don't even think about that either," was all she said before joining her mother and friends in a row to itself as the opening credits rolled. Blaine walked up the stairs, in the opposite direction, giving no response. He would save it for the room later and see what she said then.
 
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As Riley turned to head up the aisle to sit near her mother and away from her husband, she felt a sharp and heavy sting on her ass just where it began to slope down and taper toward her long, athletic thighs. She jolted and gave an exasperated sigh realizing how juvenile Blaine could sometimes be when it came to her. On the heels of their conversation, and his rather pointed declaration that she was a whore, she wasn't about to let him go there. At the same time, she instantly felt a moisture well within her and thought of how nice it would be to be filled later.

"Don't even think about that either," she said, turning and lowering her head so as to peer out at upturned eyes at Blaine. Waiting for no answer, she turned and found her seat and settled in for the film. Two hours later, the crowd gave its applause while her mother stood with other stars of the film and accepted the adulation. Riley noticed Jon Crow several aisles away and marveled once more how the light captured his handsome features. She leaned over to one of the Hollywood starlets sitting in the seat to her left.

"Isn't he aging well?" Riley asked, and the girl simply smiled and gave a delicious sound in return.

"MmmHmmm," she said, to which Riley agreed. "Too bad you're married, huh?" She continued, to which Riley also agreed, if in word only. She stood and brushed flat her dress, then grabbed the tiny clutch purse she had carried with her, wherein she retrieved her phone. There were messages from Karlie Kloss and Emma Stone, each checking on her whereabouts in the city and whether she wanted to meet up before she left town.

Not leaving tonight. Here for three weeks. She texted to Karlie before sending a similar message to Emma. She didn't think, or care, to wait for Blaine, instead sidling over to Jon Crow once more.

"Congratulations!" Riley smiled as she gave the actor a hug. "You were all so great."

"Thank you," he said. "You really liked it?"

"Absolutely. I'm going to tell my friends about it later," she put her clutch in one hand and gripped the wrist of that hand behind her back with the other, an innocent though devilish move that made her seem both casual and sultry as she spoke, and that was simply excusable as necessary since she had no pockets in which to place her hands. "We're going out to see the city," she lied. She had spent a combined amount of time equal to many years, perhaps a decade, in New York, the product of her mother and father's travels to the city throughout her life, as well as her career. She had seen the city. She was going out to have fun and see what trouble she could touch without owning. "Karlie Kloss and her friends," she continued, answering a question he had not yet asked. "You should....come." She knew how the suggestion she made.

"I should, huh?" Crow asked as she stepped away, one long leg leading the other while she glanced back over her shoulder.

"My mother has my number," she winked, pointing out to him how much younger she was than he, a point in fact that he did not in any way fail to appreciate. "Call me." As she turned, there stood Blaine, a shit-eating grin in place, awaiting her escort. He knew who she was and what she was doing.

"Ready to go home....dear?" He asked, condescending to her. Riley just smiled and took his arm as she had when they came in. Moments later, they were in an extended SUV, windows tinted, heading to the hotel they were still sharing. As she got in the car and took her seat, she stared out the window while he took his place beside her.

"I'm going out with Karlie later," was all she said.
 
Blaine watched his wife have an extended chat with the older actor and flirt within feet of where he stood. She turned eventually in his direction and her eyes flashed wide only a moment as he knew that she knew what he had watched her do.

"Ready to go home....dear?" he snarked. He escorted her into the car and then got in to drive. No sooner had they taken off, than Riley spoke to him without prompt.

"I'm going out with Karlie later."

"Oh are you?" He asked. "Karlie?"

"Yes," she replied. "Why?"

"Karlie?" He repeated, this time with a follow up. "Or Jon Crow?" Her eyes grew narrow as she refused to appreciate his tone.

Oh fuck you, she thought to herself. "I'm going.....with Karlie." She said, before pulling her phone to show him the text messages between her and her model friend in which they had made arrangements. He backed off a bit.

"Just checking," he said. "You and Jon seemed....friendly."

"Give it up, Blaine," she said. The rest of the drive was in silence for the most part, only the occasional, surface small talk exchanged. When they arrived at the hotel, Blaine parked the car and went around to open Riley's door. As she stepped from the vehicle, he took her hand before walking with her inside. They stepped through the grand lobby, where he punched the button for the elevator. While waiting, he looked both ways down the hall and, seeing no one, began to swirl his finger along her lower back, down along the hem of her skirt, and gently along the back of her thigh. "What do you think you're doing?" Riley asked. Even as she looked sideways at her husband, she could not help but feel goosebumps erupt along her legs, and over her back and spine. Her center began to weep moisture at the thought of what might await upstairs.

Damn him, she thought, half amused and half irritated. She still found Blaine attractive, very much so. No matter how obnoxious he could be, or how bad their relationship might seem, she was always drawn to him more than any other. He always knew just where to touch her, what suggestion to make, what to do that would have her ready to take him and give herself to him any way he desired.

"I just thought if you were going out with Karlie, then I needed to play with you first," he said as the elevator door opened.

Play with me? she grinned silently, stepping inside, her back to the rear wall as he stood beside her. Another couple got in with them and stood toward the front door. She said nothing, as the elevator began its ascent to the suites high above the city. Without any words, Riley felt her skirt lift slightly, as Blaine ran his hand along her thigh once more, rising higher before resting it squarely on her firm but ample ass. Riley turned her head toward him, casting him a look as if to say "Don't even think about it," while at the same time her pussy grew wet as he ran one finger along the gusset of her panties from behind. She knew the second they got to their floor, she was going to be his. She didn't mind. The couple in the elevator stepped off on the 16th floor, and the door closed, leaving Riley and Blaine on the elevator alone. Riley turned her head to him once again.

"What do you think you're doing," she said, keeping the charade going.

"I'm getting ready to fuck you." He said nothing more.
 
"No you're not," she said, acting as if she was not physically becoming rapidly ready to take him into her moistening sheath once the elevator arrived at its destination. "I told you, I'm going out." She felt his finger slide along her panties, then back, slowly up and over the curve of her ass once again, prompting goosebumps to erupt along every fleshy part of her body from her chest to her ankles. She knew she would have trouble resisting, even if she truly wanted to.

DING! The elevator bell sounded as the pair felt the brakes quickly slow their progress, and Riley sighed quietly to herself, knowing his advance would soon hasten.

"You also said 'later,'" Blaine responded, saying nothing more as the door opened and he allowed her to step into the foyer of their penthouse suite on the third floor from the top of the old, grand hotel. She made no effort to acknowledge him, uncertain how that would be taken, or where it would lead, and instead marched down the hall and to their room, where she paused a moment to take off her heels. She hadn't noticed him step the other way, into the den, to pour himself a bourbon, before heading toward their room himself. As she stood at the tall dresser on the far side of the room, removing her earrings, she saw his hand reach over her shoulder and place the drink down as she felt his other hand run along her side. There were more goosebumps and more still as he released his glass, then ran his hand above her knee, over the meat of her thigh, under her skirt, jamming two fingers inside the front of her panties and into her body. She heard him groan with a grin in her ear.

"Someone is ready," he said in a low voice, before taking a single, light bite on her earlobe, making her quiver.

"Fuck......unh!!" Riley groaned at the feel of his fingers now sliding slowly in and out of her pussy, eager to accept more. "...you," she groaned, making him give a tiny sigh of his own as he laughed.

"No baby," he whispered. "Fuck you," he kissed her neck as she tilted her head to the side, giving him access. "You didn't think I wouldn't leave Jon Crow a little present for later, did you?" She reached back with one arm and ran her hand along his face, through his hair, and then grabbed his hair not enough to cause pain, but enough to show she would if she needed to, though such threat meant little to him.

"I'm.....unh......unh.....not going.....unh!!...with Jon," she said, turning her head just as he leaned in, locking his lips to hers in a deep kiss in which their tongues tangled briefly before she pulled away, then placed her hands on the dresser. She felt empty as his fingers pulled from her body, then she looked straight ahead at the wall and heard first his belt and then his zipper a few seconds before his hands began to slide her skirt up to her hips. "I told you I'm going out with Karleeeee!!!!!" her words became a squeal as he stepped between her spreading thighs and slammed into her, getting only half of his length inside before her body tensed and held him out. She felt her head slowly jerk back as he gently pulled her hair back, arching her a bit.

"Relax, baby," he said with a chuckle. "Just......." he said, thrusting again, slowly, but unable to sink fully into her. "....relax." He thrusted harder still, this time planting balls deep into her tiny body as his hands gripped her hips, ready to make her his all over again, as he had so many times before.
 
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Blaine smirked as he watched the firm flesh around her hips and waist bulge where he gripped her tightly, pulling her to him and impaling her again and again. He didn't know if she was or wasn't going to see Jon Crow later and he honestly didn't care that much. Two days before coming to meet Riley in New York, he had felt the firm-pressured grip of the sweet slit of Brittney Lincoln running along the underside of his cock as he leaned in to mingle his tongue with her own. Brittney was the college-aged daughter of one of his business partners who had happened to be interning in the building whose interest was piqued when she learned Riley was out of town. Blaine would not pretend to be pure of motive in chastising the girl now taking his cock on the bed of their hotel, but he would make sure she felt his wrath which was not so much borne of revenge as the simple desire to own a woman so many wanted to have.

"Relax baby," he slid one hand forward along her spine, reaching to grip a handful of her flowing blonde hair. "Just relax," he tugged her hair pulling her into an arch while squeezing her hip with his other hand as he slammed home deep once more. He breathed out a chuckle as the sound of her most girlish whimper percolated from her throat with each hammer thrust he used to fill her core. "Good girl," he grinned, his hand wrapping her hair around into a tighter grip still. He pulled back from within her now dripping slit and slid his full length into her once more, then again, before releasing her hair and sliding his hand beneath her, then over her breast, effectively pulling his chest against her back as he continued to have his way. "You can be as big a whore as you choose," he said, thrusting hard into her again. "But you're mine." He fucked her deep again. "Understand?" She said nothing, as her head dipped low, as if tired already from his efforts. Her knees trembled beneath her and her arm pulled away from the dresser, then went behind her back and pressed against his abs just above where he plowed into her much smaller frame. Blaine grabbed her wrist and forcefully returned it to its previous position. "Keep your hands up there!" He shouted, before asking for her confirmation once more. "I said, do you under.....STAND?!" He slammed hard into her once more. The girl simply refused to cooperate and when she did, she could not see the broad smile that found his face. He knew what he would do next, and perhaps she did as well. "Okay then," was all he said.

Blaine's hand rose and came down with a violent CRACK!!, meeting her ass just along the line where it gently folded into her hip, then did it again, slapping her higher this time, just along the firm flank along her side. Riley jumped with a squeal, and he slid the hand along her back once more, over her shoulder, along her neck, until his fingers came to her mouth.

"Open," he said, saying nothing more. Riley's eyes rolled up to the top of the wall against where the dresser stood, in disbelief that what was about to happen was about to happen, though she knew full well that she had both pissed him off by resisting him and turned him on by doing the same. She knew he never took no well, and she opened her lips only a bit, enough to allow him to slide two fingers in her mouth, around which her lips closed and her tongue immediately swirled. Blaine smiled at his wife's reaction. He had trained her well, even though she always did enough to piss him off and remain her own strong-willed person. After a moment, he pulled his wet fingers away, and slowly moved his hand down, his pinky trailing her spine. He felt her tense in a brace as his pinky trailed low.

"Relax," Blaine said in a stern tone and, as she made every effort to, he shoved the fingers that had just been between her lips into the rosebud staring up at him as he continued to fuck his wife.
 
Riley got chills as she felt his lone finger trail over her shoulders and down her spine, not too fast, enough only to build an excitement and expectation about what he was about to do. She hated when he fucked her in the ass, and at the same time she never felt so full and complete. But she knew what he liked and that was taking what he wanted with no mercy whenever he chose to do so. And it was for that reason, because he was going to do what he wanted to do, that she stood complicit, sucking and lubricating his fingers as her only recourse, just before he plunged them into her tightest entry.

"Relax," she heard him say, even as her arms took the brunt of her weight when he slammed the length of his cock in her soaking slit one more time, then again and again.

"Unnnngh!" She gave a long, low groan as she felt his fingers pry her open with a dull, blunt force, and giving advance reconnaissance for where his dick would soon be. He no longer said a word as he went to work behind her, shortly before she felt his hand on her hip and his cock withdraw. She closed her eyes in a wince and then gave a low squeal, her voice cracking a bit when she felt his wide head bump her, then press into her while he gave a growl, once again making her his. As Blaine impaled her little body, her back straightened, then arched as she took whatever he gave. "Unnnngh!" she groaned once more, the breath she tried to catch coming in short gasps between her gnashed teeth. "Unh.....fuck.....unh!...you." She managed, even as she began to roll her hips and ass back and into him, taking him deeper still.
She felt her head tug back, arching her further, then she jumped with a start as his hand slapped hard on her ass.

"I said RELAX," Riley heard him say, just before feeling his hand grip her hip, then his other slide along her side to the rival hip, taking a tight grip as well. She winced again, knowing what was next and, as if on cue, Blaine suddenly pulled his length from her slowly, only to begin ravaging her with a furious pounding, this time, making her well aware that he owned her, at least for tonight.
 
Blaine pounded away, taking as much pleasure from her tight, lithe body as he could, trying hard to make her feel him long after he was finished, which would be very soon. He watched her head drop, forcing her eyes down, knowing she would just take anything he gave from here out. His hips slammed into hers again and again, the slapping sound filling the room while nothing more was said between them, as he felt her grip his shaft, her body accepting him at her farthest depths. He pressed his chest against her back, and ran one arm over her shoulder and around her neck, putting her into an intimate headlock as his cock found her entrance over and over. He leaned in and bit her ear hard enough to hurt, not hard enough to bleed. Her head jerked, pulling her ear free.

"Ow!" She squealed. "Fucker." He responded with nothing other than to continue fucking her as hard as he could. He ran his hand down her spine once more, pushing away and raising to his knees, spreading them wide and opening her wider, as he again gripped her hips.

"Take......it.......little......girl!" He said, his words coming with each thrust. His hips planted hard against hers one final time, and he let out a groan that filled the room like a roar, his cum erupting in blasts into her body. He collapsed over her, catching his breath. She did nothing to move him, collapsing herself below. She reached behind her, pulling his cock from within her, then returning her hands to where they had been. Though he had violated her, and finished inside of her, she would not allow him another second of her dignity, instead relaxing a bit as he rested atop her.

"Get off me," she said after a few minutes. Blaine grabbed her face and turned her toward his, kissing her deeply. Her tongue met his in an effort only to placate, rather than to reciprocate. And when he pulled away again, she simply rested her head on the bed, expecting him to get up, which he did. Blaine walked to the bathroom and cleaned himself up before returning to collapse beside her again. Riley turned to her back before speaking.

"I want a divorce," she said, giving voice to a thought she had often had. Blaine rose up to lay with his head propped up on his elbow. He grinned and slid his hand across her stomach and to her hip, rolling her into him, pressing against her once more. He felt the goosebumps erupt on her body as she felt her skin crawl.

"No you don't, Riley," Blaine said. Her eyes narrowed, silently encouraging him to continue his thought. "You make three times what I make. I'll get half." He kissed her lips with a sinister intent as she did nothing to pull away or stop him. "Your PR will keep you sidelined for a year, maybe two," he kissed her again, this time, making her flinch and pull back. "You don't want any of that." He pulled her close to him by her hip once more. "But you can live with this," he said, kissing her forehead before
giving a victorious smirk.
 
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Blaine made a divorce sound like an impossibility. She sighed and returned her eyes high above where she lay, still naked, feeling more sore than was typical.

"Fuck you," she groaned, giving up for now. She flinched as Blaine rose above her momentarily, then planted a quick kiss on her lips once again, then pulled away with a grin that told her he had won this period of their game. He got up, once more leaving her, as he began searching for his clothes. "Where are you going?" She asked, never sure why she did in these times, attributing her distress to the instinctual need she had to be snuggled closely in another's arms after she had given herself up. However, such desire was merely a reflex, and she pushed it deep inside.

"Why do you care?" His voice called from across the room. "You wanted a divorce five minutes ago." She gave another sigh, knowing he was right. "Karlie is going to be waiting on you, anyway," he mocked.

"Go to hell," she said, watching him complete the act of getting dressed, a moment before he walked over to where she lay, leaned forward, and planted one more kiss on her lips. For reasons unknown, and perhaps only because he was someone she used to love and respect, she reciprocated, her lips pressing to his, though keeping her eyes open, before watching him leave.

"I'm going to find a bar," he said, a moment before leaving the room. "Have fun with.....Karlie." She could hear the tone of the laugh in his voice. She rolled her eyes and listened to the silence of the room once he was gone.

"Fuck you," she verbalized her feelings in a small voice, now that he was beyond any ability to hear. She rolled over and stood, moments before heading to the bathroom to clean up, as her husband had before her. When she returned, she found her phone. Reading no messages, she opened the messenger and began hacking out a message to the girl she had insisted would be her companion, to her husband's disbelief.

Danilo's at 11:30? the message said. She stepped into the shower long enough to begin the water that she would use to make herself again presentable. As she did, the phone warbled. She ignored the message that had not been a return response, but rather a text from the very guy who had stirred up so much unexpected, unwarranted animosity in her evening.

Your mother is very generous, the message from Jonathan read. Bring Carlie. I've got something lined up for us. Riley's eyebrow lifted over her right eye, skeptical, but interested. She tested her friend, Karlie, once more.

Change of plans.
 
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