Limbo Ch. 01

All of it was a lie, a warped, twisted, cruel joke played on him by the universe... and no one had the decency to laugh.

How long he pumped into her, he couldn't tell. Finally, his hard member unloaded ropes of cum inside her before he staggered back. Zoe leaned against the wall, her eyes closed and a dreamy expression plastered across her face.

"Dammit. Now I'll have to take even more overtime if you'll welcome me back like this."

Overtime. That lie. Ethan left through the front door. He clenched his fist and punched the wall. Pain roared through his forearm. He grimaced and saw a trickle of blood.

Ethan bled even more in places deep inside.

* *

Sophie Montoya was a third generation Cuban immigrant in New York. Her family always went above and beyond in their efforts to be patriotic towards their new found home. Her grandfather fought in Vietnam, and even received a commendation for his service. Her father had seen the Gulf theatre before becoming a police officer. She herself did two tours of Afghanistan before joining the NYPD. After a few years, she found that her investigative skills could be more profitably used as a PI.

Sophie was the insurance investigator over at New York Presbyterian. It was a mandatory requirement by the HMOs that all claims be verified by her first before being forwarded to them. After all, they wouldn't want hospitals cheating them the way they themselves cheated ordinary people.

The grapevine opined that she was good at her job, gleaned from years of experience as a cop, and then as a PI. She still moonlighted as a PI on occasion.

Hence, Ethan Cole felt compelled to drop in on her.

"Wait, so you think your wife's cheating on you?"

"I'm sure of it."

"And yet you're here, instead of meeting with a lawyer."

Ethan rubbed the cavernous bags under his eyes. Sophie looked curiously at his haggard appearance.

"You look like hell."

"Figures."

Sophie took out a small notebook and began jotting a few things down. She closed her book and looked back at him.

"I hope you realise that if you saw her kissing someone else publicly, she is having an affair. Are you sure you want to see any more of it than you already have?"

"What are you now, my shrink?" he retorted.

"I'm just a PI who's seen this same scene play out a hundred different times. You're not looking for photographs and videos to rake her through the mud. You're looking for a jolt, something to tear the blinds off completely. You're looking for a confrontation, for answers. All I can tell you is, sometimes it's better not to see it. You can still get a divorce and walk away, rather than seeing your marriage in pieces."

"It's too late for that, right?"

"Not yet, Ethan. So let me ask you once again -- are you sure want to find out?"

"Just confirm if she's having an affair or not," he said wearily. "Whatever you find is for me alone."

She chuckled to herself.

"You're a masochist, Ethan, you know that. Well, at least I warned you," she said brusquely, turning her attention back to the notebook on her desk. "Do you want me to call you in case I have an opportunity to catch them in the act?"

"Yeah. I'll probably need to see it myself."

There was an uneasy silence. Sophie leaned forward and looked at him sympathetically.

"You're not the first man who's asked me to confirm his wife's cheating. Trust me, it's always better to move on. Rip that band-aid off and get a fresh start. It'll hurt like hell, but it will pass."

Ethan smiled grimly. She crossed her hands on the desk.

"Now, shall we discuss my hourly rate?"

* *

"Honey, I'm home."

"And not a moment too soon," said Zoe, beaming ear to ear. "Come here and tell me what you think of this."

Ethan walked to the kitchenette to find his wife holding out a teaspoon for him. He gratefully swallowed a sample of the dish in progress.

"Don't tell me," he said, intently scouring his memory. "Chicken breast cooked with basil and thyme."

"Damn! I can never get anything past you, can I?" she remarked, turning her attentions back to the steaming pot.

"Just the way my mother made it. With an extra hit of pepper," he said, feeling the slight burn at the back of his throat.

"She'd be proud of you, you know that, right? You're a big doctor now."

"Oh she would," said Ethan, wrapping his arms around Zoe from behind. "Enough about her. Let's talk about my lovely wife for a change."

"You keep that up and you won't have anything to eat."

Undeterred, his hand crept inside her top, undoing two buttons along the way. She sighed from arousal and he felt her nipples pucker. His index and middle fingers encircled one of the hardened nubs.

"I'll give you five minutes to cut that out, or no dinner."

"Screw that," he growled into her ear, tweaking the nipple. Eddies of pleasure radiated outwards through her body, eliciting a throaty moan. "The only dinner I want right now is you, and I want you in the worst way possible."

He nuzzled his face into Zoe's neck, kissing the soft skin all the way to the ear before taking her lobe between his lips. She put the stirrer down, giving up on trying to cook and choosing to concentrate on the exquisite sensations that he imparted to her body.

"Mmmmm..."

The rest of her moan was lost in Ethan's mouth. He grabbed her waist and spun her around, engulfing her mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue searched her mouth, seeking out its mate. Their kiss was slow and studied, savouring the intimacy in each other.

He lifted her hips and she wrapped her long legs around him. He carried her to the nearest empty surface, the couch; and laid her out. Her squirming and moaning drove him insane with lust.

"I love you so much, Zoe."

Zoe quickly undid the buttons of her dress and tossed her bra into the same pile. Her plump breasts were now unshackled, splayed out for his viewing pleasure. Ethan recognised every tiny detail and contour of it -- the pale pink skin contrasting against the darker shade of the areola or even the pebble sized nipple protruding at the end. He could not decide which feature he loved best, the combination made him salivate.

He dove in, licking and slurping with abandon. His tongue feasted on her nipples and her hands kneaded the pliant flesh gently at first, gradually becoming harder. He glanced up to see Zoe's eyes glazed over with lust and fluttering.

His roving tongue went lower, never losing touch with her soft skin. He undid her pants and lowered them enough to expose her glistening sex, barely hidden by flimsy panties.

"I always liked take-out anyway," said a dreamy voice from the head of the couch.

Ethan barely heard it. He lowered her underwear to expose the dripping snatch. Wetness pooled around it. He let his finger trace the outline of her lower lips, feeling the lush pinkness. She squirmed and writhed under him, but he kept her as steady as he needed.

"Ethan, I need you now."

Finally, his fingers parted the hairless lips, exposing the fleshy inside. His lips fastened around them and he thrust his tongue inside, sending a spark through Zoe.

Ethan Cole woke up. He was surrounded by darkness. He checked the bedside clock. A set of glowing LED lights informed him it wouldn't be morning for a few hours yet. His mind was still feeling the lingering after-effects of the dream, his tongue almost able to remember the taste.

Then it came back to him all at once. It was like a bucket of cold water had been emptied over his head. The lightness of slumber passed and he once again became aware of his grim reality.

How many days was it since he'd seen them? He tried to remember.

He looked to his side to see Zoe peacefully asleep. Her lips were curled in a smile and her right arm was draped over his body.

Was she dreaming too? Was she dreaming of him? Or was she dreaming of...

Ethan carefully got out of bed without waking her up. He walked to his closet and opened it. He took out the pendant from his coat and opened it. They looked so happy in those pictures.

Lies. Lies. All lies.

He would never again come home to her like in his dream.

* *

Ethan walked into the lobby of The Peninsula hotel. His eyes swept through the weekend crowd, finding his person of interest leaning against a pillar on the far right. He walked up to her, his body oblivious to the tortured sleepless nights he had endured awaiting this moment.

"Where are they?" he asked breathlessly.

"Penthouse suite," said Sophie. "They checked in a few hours ago. The concierge was nice enough to give me a keycard in exchange for some cash."

He took the keycard from her and slipped it into his pocket. Sophie tilted her head, studying his expression. His face contorted with the beginnings of rage.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know," sighed Ethan bitterly. "I really don't."

"Hold still," she said evenly. She frisked him with practised efficiency. He stared at her, to which she simply shrugged.

"I have to make sure you aren't carrying a gun. The last thing I want to be is accessory to murder."

"I'll get going then. Send me a bill tomorrow."

They parted ways.

Ethan walked in a trance. His feet robotically shuffled to the elevator. A few friendly strangers shot him a quizzical look as he occupied a corner. His gaze were transfixed on the digital panel, mercilessly counting off the floors to the top. His heart already burned, wishing there were infinitely many floors so he would not have to confront Zoe.

But alas, eventually he reached the penthouse storey. Without a clear idea of his destination, his legs propelled him forward until he stood before the ornate double doors leading to the suite.

The "Do Not Disturb" sign hanging outside warned him not to go further. So, of course, he inserted his keycard into the slot and pushed the door open. A narrow vestibule with a coat rack led to an expansive sitting area.

Ethan saw the man from the restaurant. He walked from the refrigerator, holding a bottle of wine. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the intruder.

"Jesus, don't you people knock?"

His wife's lover had a slight Eastern European accent. He stood at a bit under six feet tall and wore a flimsy flannel shirt and a pair of boxers underneath.

"Change the sheets in the bedroom again, will you? And get us another bottle of Pinot Noir."

Ethan remained rooted to the spot. Blood pounded in his ears, rendering any other sound mute. His fists clenched and his gut tightened. The mystery man narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"What're you waiting for then? Get to it."

"Who is it, Milos?"

The four simple words crashed into Ethan's eardrums. The voice had the unmistakeable sweetness and lilted melody of his wife. On all the long lonely nights he had spent consumed by his work, he would call her, just to hear that voice call his name.

And now, that voice called someone else's name.

"Housekeeping, I think. I'll handle him."

"For God's sake, Milos. Get rid of him and come back to-," said Zoe, stepping out of the bedroom dressed only in a loose shirt that went halfway to her knees. She stopped dead in her tracks seeing their visitor.

It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Ethan did not know how long he stood in motionless silence at the mouth of the vestibule looking at his beautiful, semi-clothed wife and the man she was currently intimate with.

"Honey, why don't we let him change the sheets before getting back to what we were doing?"

Zoe's eyes went wide and her lips trembled uncontrollable. She squeezed out a blabber of incoherent monosyllables before stringing together a sentence.

"He isn't housekeeping, Milos. He's my husband."

"Husband," he said, letting the ramifications settle into his head.

Ethan finally found words. "Hello, Zoe. I see you've found an alternative to your overtime shifts."

"Ethan, honey. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way. I swear, I never wanted to hurt you."

"Don't," he yelled. "Just fucking don't."

"Ethan please. It's not what you think. I still love you. You have to believe me."

"Believe you? You want me to fucking believe you after seeing this?"

"We'll talk about this later when I get home. I promise I'll tell you everything you want to know."

In three swift strides, Ethan bridged the gap between him and the surprised Milos. Before anyone could react, he landed a powerful punch to his abdomen, bringing him to his knees. Zoe screamed and clutched her hair in shock.

"There's nothing to talk about, Zoe. I loved you and you threw everything we built into the gutter for this man. It's over between us."

Before she could reply, he stormed out, purpose exuding in every stride. The elevator, the lobby, the street were all dim recollections as he made his way back to his apartment to catch up with an old friend named Jack Daniels.

He needed the solace from whiskey that he once got from his wife.

* *

It was late evening by the time Zoe returned. She had spent the duration of the subway ride home regaining her composure and forming the words to explain what Ethan saw. The endless rehearsals and repetitions in her mind failed to come up with a single scenario that did not end in tears.

With trepidation in every step, she walked to the door of what had once been their home. Most of her felt putrid with what she had done.

She opened the door with her key to find the dishevelled figure of her husband polishing of the remnants of a bottle. It was a sight which had become familiar over the past few days, but she had never guessed the real cause.

"Overwork," was the convenient excuse her mind conjured up, not daring to think of the alternative.

But now it was clear. She walked into the living room seeing only the evisceration of their marriage before her.

"Ethan," she whimpered. The shell of man raised his head to look. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes bereft of any vitality.

"How long has it being going on?"

"About six months," she said honestly. Honesty was the least she owed him.

"Why? Where did we go wrong?"

"Ethan, please hear me out."

She saw on the floor beside her husband and leaned against the wall. Her eyes glinted at the corners with moisture.

"I was only three when my parents moved from New York City to Greenville. He was an investment banker, who was laid off. My parents moved away from the city to cut costs. The small town was the only life I knew."

Ethan disinterestedly upturned the bottle to see if any drop of alcohol had evaded him. Zoe took a deep breath and went on.

"My father told me many bedtime stories about his life as an investment banker. He told me about the number of cars, the fancy hotels and the high society he was used to. It was like a fantasy for me, a fairytale I wanted more than anything.

"When you told me you were moving to the city, I was thrilled. It was a chance to be closer to all the things my Dad told me about. I lived and loved and struggled with you with the hope that one day we would be rich. Ethan, I wanted nothing more than to have you to be part of my fairytale."

She paused to wipe a teardrop.

"You were so busy with your work. I understood, I really did, but it didn't take away the loneliness. I knew you did everything for us."

"So you decided to cheat on me?" was the incredulous reply.

"Of course not," she wailed. "I mean, the thought never even crossed my mind. Then one day, Milos came in as a patient. He had some minor surgery and I was the nurse assigned to him. He was so sweet and charming that I grew close to him. We talked about so many things."

"Talk? You stamped on my heart because of talk? Why didn't you ever talk to me?"

"Because you weren't there," she blurted out. The sentence hung between them. Her demeanour finally cracked and she sobbed.

"I'm so sorry, Ethan, but you were never there and he was. I was vulnerable and he took advantage of it. He has everything my father told me about in his bedtime stories. When I was with him, I was once again a little girl."

Finally convinced the bottle was empty, Ethan let it roll across the carpet.

"I was working so we could have a house of our own, so we could send our children to college. That's why I was away, spending night after night doing overtime so I could give you the life you want."

"I know that and I love you for it. Ethan, I swear on everything I hold dear, that I still love you with all my heart. I'm just not... in love with you any more."

A feeling enveloped him, akin to a red-hot dagger plunged into his heart. The words ricocheted against the walls of his brain screaming denial. It could not be. It just could not. His childhood sweetheart, who he had married and devoted his life to, was now another's to love.

"I won't fight for anything in the divorce. I don't want to hurt you any more than I have."

Ethan felt numb. He held his head in his hands, pulling his hair and crying into his palms. Zoe immediately put her arms around his shoulder and kissed his head. His body shook with sobs and she pressed her cheek against his, letting the tears of their broken dream mingle.

The band-aid was off and the wound bled freely.

* *

"I still can't wrap my head around it. It's over."

Ethan stared at the ceiling. The streetlights outside cast long shadows. Two days had passed, but his mind still struggled to process what had happened.

"Sometimes, I still think it's a bad dream."

"Well, if it is a dream. It can't be all bad," came the reply from his loins. He looked down and saw Sophie Montoya plant a kiss on his waist. All of her sumptuous curves were visible in the slanted light, sans clothes of course.

He chuckled, feeling the experienced lips plant innumerable kisses on his bare torso. Her tongue stuck out and flicked his navel. The kisses continued up to his chest, moving across the pecs and nuzzling into his neck.

"I'm surprised at your restraint though. I expected you to lash out at her, but you didn't."

"I came from a household where my Dad came after me, my mother and my sister with his fists. It taught me never to hurt a woman or a child, whatever the circumstances."

"You had to have at least thought of this eventuality."

"I never even dreamt of this happening."

"Reality does that sometimes," Sophie opined. She temporarily stopped her activities and drew herself up to Ethan's side. He looked at her and took in her shapely body, while she propped herself up on one elbow.

It seemed so surreal to see another naked woman sharing his bed. Parts of him were still stuck in denial.

"Let me tell you a story. A few years ago, I received a freelance contract from De Beers. They wanted me to track down a man who had stolen a rather precious diamond from their mines. Their sources told them he was in my part of the world. I used all my resources and energy but got nowhere. For months, I didn't have a single lead. I was about to give up, when I got a call from someone in Philadelphia who wanted to turn himself in for the diamond theft."

"He just gave himself up?" he asked, letting a stray hand caress her perky breasts.

"Yup. It turned out that he had stolen the diamond and smuggled it all the way from Rustenburg to Philly to make it into a wedding ring. When he came back, he found that the woman he loved was already engaged to another man. I had nothing on him, but he made a full confession anyway."

"Wow."

"Enough with the small talk," said the PI with a grin. "Let's celebrate your new-found freedom."

Saying this, she dived back down to his hardening member and engulfed it with her mouth. Her tongue wrapped around the shaft before leaving them for the balls. She paid attention to them in turns before licking back up his turgid member.