Page 3 of Melinda's Choice

He laughs. “It’s all good. Enjoy the moment!”

I relax my head back against the bed board with a sigh. “Actually, tonight I did just that. It was like I was outside my own body observing myself. I looked at this gathering of the great and good and thought, shit Melinda, you’re hosting a dinner party for aliens from a distant planet. What the fuck?”

Wyatt sweeps back a stray lock of dark blond hair, grinning. “That was definitely a pinch me now moment.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Tell me all about it.”

“Well, for starters, I doubled my usual calorie intake eating from that buffet. The filet mignon was to die for.”

“Stop, you’re making me hungry. Tell me about the aliens.”

“Ok, so here’s the thing…”

I tell him all about Martha’s theory that Venorians are telepathic and my little test on Pravol tonight. Wyatt listens in wonder. He’s always been fascinated by the idea of alien beings. Haven’t we all? When I finish my tale, he laughs and suggests, “Next time you greet Pravol, think,your armpit smells,and see how he reacts.”

“Or maybe,your dick is hanging out of your pants,” I add cheekily.

“Well, if he’s anything like ninety-nine percent of human males, he’ll be sure to check himself out.”

I get serious all of a sudden and say what’s been on my mind. “If you’d been here with me, we could have played this game of catch the telepathic alien together. Wyatt, I missed you tonight.”

The smile falls off his face. “I’d have given anything to have been there with you. I’m so sorry honey.”

Really? Then why weren’t you here?

Ignoring my errant thought, I reply, “I know. Damn it, I don’t even have the right to ask anymore. It’s official. We’re done.”

There’s a long silence. Eventually, Wyatt says in a heavy-sounding voice, “I don’t know if we’ll ever be done.”

My face crumples as a sob breaks from me.

“Shit. Mel!” I hear Wyatt call out helplessly millions of miles away.

I wipe the tears and try to get a grip on myself. But I can’t. The pain is too raw, and the heightened emotions of the evening have stripped away my control. Another sob breaks from me, then another. I let it all out.

It’s a good few minutes before I’m able to stop crying. I clean up my face with tissues and take some long calming breaths.

Finally, I look at Wyatt. He’s been silent throughout, his beautiful eyes red-rimmed. “Mel,” he says. “That piece of paper can say we’re done, but I’ll love you forever. I’m sorry I fucked up our marriage. I hate that I’ve let you down.”

We’ve been over this hundreds of times. Wearily, I rasp, “It takes two, Wyatt. Some of this is on me. But it’s done now. We can’t take it back.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at me, hunger and need evident in his eyes. I drown in his gaze across the millions of miles that separate us. His voice husky, he says, “Baby, I can’t let you go feeling like this. Let me make it better.”

I know what that entails. We’ve done plenty of it the last two years I’ve lived on Mars. Logic dictates we shouldn’t anymore, but I put it aside and go with my gut. “Please,” I whisper.

His voice takes on an authoritative tone. “Take your top off, Melinda. Show me those gorgeous tits.”

My heartbeat picks up as I lift the tank top I’m wearing over my head, baring my naked breasts. As soon as he sees them, Wyatt purrs. “Oh yeah, so damn beautiful. Touch them for me, sweetheart. Squeeze them in your palm, the way I like to do.”

I palm my breasts, squeezing the soft flesh. “That’s it baby. Now pinch those nipples hard. Let me see them perk up, nice and firm.”

I pinch them between my fingers, feeling a light tremor pass through my body.

“Oh baby, you look fucking gorgeous. My cock’s so hard for you.”

“Show me,” I breathe.

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