Authors: Marcie Steele
‘Oh, god, nearly there,’ Russ rudely interrupted her thoughts, bringing her back to earth again with a crash. Suddenly, she felt the full force of his last few thrusts and then it was all over. For another week.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t love Russ anymore. She did, there was no doubt about that. But lately, something wasn’t working. She didn’t know whether it was the fact he was away during the week and she’d settled down to much of a single life or if it had prolonged things because of that. Russ was a steady, reliable guy and not everyone could keep the passion alive for so many years, surely?
Wondering how long she could wait before she wriggled to get him to move, she gazed out of the window. By the amount of light that was coming through the curtains, it looked like another cold but sunny day out there. She could feel his breathing slowing down. Any moment now she’d be able to…she stretched a leg. That should do it.
‘Right then.’ Russ kissed her lightly on the forehead before jumping off the bed. ‘I’d better get up. I’m meeting Mark for a run before I head back to Sheffield. I reckon a ten miler is on the cards today.’
It took all of Sam’s strength to smile. But she needn’t have bothered, because Russ wouldn’t have noticed anyway. Despite her waning feelings, it had been a long time since Russ had noticed anything that Sam did – or said for that matter. Sex was the same every time with Russ when he came home at the weekends. It was like paint by numbers but without the paint. She’d be pussy footing around all Saturday trying to avoid his advances but knowing that she had to perform once before he left. Once was always enough.
But since Dan Wilshaw arrived on the scene, Sam’s sex drive had come back. It wasn’t fair, she really liked Dan but he was off limits. Sam and Russ were married, had been for the past fourteen years, would be for the next fifty or so, she presumed. Childhood sweethearts, they’d married when she was twenty. And, even if she wasn’t sure that she loved him anymore, she wouldn’t cheat on him. Would she?
Sam pulled the duvet over her head to block out the day. Already, she was counting down the hours until Russ would be leaving. Two thirty after lunch, he’d pick up his bag full of freshly washed clothes that she’d ironed while watching boring Saturday night television after eating a takeaway.
Where were they heading, her and Russ?
Maybe she should go to the Anne Summers party that she’d heard one of the stall holders organising and buy a rampant rabbit.
Or maybe she should just get Dan Wilshaw out of her system once and for all.