SCELEROPHOBIA

He looked worried, disappointed and troubled, and she could not dismiss the overwhelming thought, “Oh no, it cannot be.” “Are you jealous?” She frowned.

He blushed and spoke with a quivering sound. “Why, why should I be? This is purely about solving a crime, that’s my job, nothing else, nothing more.” His eyes cast about for an excuse to leave the room but could not find one. After a little while he summed up courage. “I have to leave now,” he said weakly after turning his back on her.

She heard the door shut as she unpacked.

Donald sauntered away feeling his heart had been violated. “How did she know,” he cringed and bit at his knuckle, unsure why he felt that way. He had a fiancée and was not one with a roving eye. He struggled, his head felt it wrong, but his heart felt it natural. He panicked as he watched his legs make an about turn, and then he knew he had to confront this head on.

She waited by the door to herald in, his aching heart. She gently swung it open, as his footsteps got nearer. He gazed into her eyes and it sparkled. This is surreal, he thought as he relaxed his hand muscles and rubbed them on her soft tender flesh. She swayed her head side to side to the sweetness and gentleness of his kiss. Donald could not believe his luck, he wondered if he might be doing this to get back at Jack but quickly crushed the thought. Her hands groped his shoulders and chest area and he knew this was where he wanted to be. With one hand on the top half of her back and the other firmly behind her thigh, he swept her off her feet. Holding the kiss, he gently straddled her on the bed. He adored her, artfully sliding down her pleated skirt to reveal her unblemished skin and expensive underwear. Passionately they gasped, moaned, and groaned as they made love.

Chelsea woke up the next morning realising she had made a terrible mistake. Her feelings were confused and she avoided Donald for a few days. In the meantime, Jack smote her with romantic messages left on her cell phone. She ordered for her posts from her home address and realized he had sent her roses daily, each accompanied by a written poem describing his feelings towards her. She knew she needed to be with him. First she had to make an important call. “Mum, how are you,” she sang. She listened then spoke, “Ok, Ok, yes mum, I understand. And Dad? ...Ok mum, you’ve got to stop crying now. Things will be ok. I promise, I’ll call you later, ok?”

Then she remembered Sandra; “I’ve got to see her again tomorrow,” she thought.

She alighted from the squad car and instructed the officers to pick her up in three hours. Chelsea was casual, wearing a fashionable red linen dress that showed her curves in the right places. She shuddered at another thunderbolt and gazed up at the thundercloud charged sky. And before she could make it to the intercom, a raging storm blew up, and it pelted down cats and dogs.

“Who is it?”

“Jack, open up, I’m soaking wet,” Chelsea’s voice said hysterically.

His hand rushed to the buzzer and he waited impatiently by the door. He excitedly pulled the handle at the sound of the doorbell, his eyes refusing to blink, at the drenched view of Chelsea as Mother Nature had intended. Droopy hair plastered to the head, rain eroded make-up and a rain assisted tight fitting dress. Wet or dry, he swooped on her embarrassingly squeezing her ravishing body into the living room.

Her heart went pitter-patter following the rhythm of the incessant rain. He grabbed her tightly by the waist and his eyes watched their lips interlock in battle. Her earlobes appealed and his long slender tongue massaged them, causing her to shed any inhibition she possessed. Her temperature transcended her expectations and her emotions moved up a gear. She ripped his gray shirt and lustfully stroked his muscular body, feeling wet before long she could barely stand. He turned her around and she understood, going on all fours, he lifted her dress to the waistline, and they had dried from body-radiated heat. He dropped his pants and they made love, and again, and again, making a roadmap as they migrated to the bedroom.

She glanced at her wrist and realised it had fallen casualty to the sexual warfare. She strolled into the shower and returned to hear Jack snoring, she smiled knowing she had conquered him and the battle was over. The ringing became louder and she scurried to the living room. “Hello?” she gasped.