Manicured nails played with the bracelet on a slim pale wrist to dispel the anxiousness Pam felt while the elevator rose to the ninth floor. She wore a pink sweater with the sleeves pulled up to her forearm with a matching skirt and heels. The bag of Chinese food she held swayed slightly when she shifted as she considered the circumstances that brought her here. Six months ago she was happy. Six months ago she thought her wife was happy as well. Although, everything isn't always as it seems and while she was certain of her life and the life with her wife Tara wasn't. The slender African American writer captured her attention at a bar, the least likely place she thought she'd ever find her soul mate. That's what she liked to classify them as, soul mates. They'd been together for five years content to just be without the added commitment of vows and it already felt like they'd known each other for a lifetime. That feeling was rare. It doesn't come with every person one lets in their bed Pam knew because she received several partners throughout her thirty two years and felt connected to less than a handful of them. She thought she was broken. Tara changed that for her. Now the bright future she had in her head was jeopardized by four little words Pam detested for the last four months, "I need my space."

On the first floor she felt certain, but as she drew closer to her goal and the bell dinged before the doors slid open she was tempted to press the button to go back down and deliberate for another two hours in her car. The Chinese food hadn't even been part of her plan to pop in to see if Tara was ok. The writer was notorious for letting her phone die or turning it off especially when she was in the middle of a project. Her publishers reached her via email and anyone else who knew the ebony skinned writer well enough. In front of Pam's computer with the warm light of the screen washing over the blond she typed a two page letter of how unfair she thought Tara was being four months after she prepared a speech of understanding when the writer packed her things and moved out. She did the polite thing and helped and promised that she would be a friend to her. In all honesty she only said those things because she couldn't stand the thought of losing Tara entirely it wasn't because she wanted to. Pam was expected to say those things. She hated being nice and she hated that she had to pretend to be nice to Tara when their relationship was never built on pretend. When they were angry they yelled it out and then fucked and forgave each other in the process.

Her heels ate up the carpeted floor to Tara's room even in her sedate pace she thought she'd gotten there too fast. Yet, she was there now standing in front of the door hoping that this wasn't presumptuous of her and that Tara wouldn't send her away. Looking down at the food she felt that if anything she'd be let in because her lover was easily swayed by edible gifts.

"Come on Pam you can do this," she encouraged herself before knocking on the door.

From other side heard a thump then Tara cursing and something falling. Steeling her worried eyes she plastered a smirk instead a picture of confidence she didn't feel.

The door was yanked open. Tara glared at her with a sharp response on the tip of her lips that died immediately and her gaze melted when she saw Pam. The look made the blond hopeful, but she decided to swallow it for fear that it would make her look too eager and overwhelm Tara.

"I brought dinner," she held up the bag for her more than to show off what she had brought. Tara looked sexy with hair up in a ponytail and crimson rimmed glasses resting on her head.

Tara eyed it warily then at the woman beyond it worrying the blond for the seconds it took for her lover to finally let her in. When the shorter woman moved to the side she nodded a thanks entering the writer's self imposed prisoner or sanctuary.

"I brought extra soy sauce," Pam stated placing the bag on the table near the window. Pulling out a chair she made herself comfortable while Tara closed her laptop on the way to the corner of the bed nearest the wooden table Pam had begun to prepare the food.

There were three Styrofoam containers and one white paper box with a red print of an Oriental style tower on the side. She slid the unopened pack of chopsticks to Tara opening the tops of each container like she was revealing a treasure.

Chicken with broccoli, fried wontons, and lo mein Tara's favorites. Before the writer dove in she thanked the blond who smiled thinly in thanks swallowing the anger rising inside her. Repeating a mantra in her head to be the understanding one she scanned the room. It was neat mostly like due to the twenty four maid service. Tara wasn't dirty by nature, but she could let things go when she was focused on her project sometimes forgetting to eat, which made Chinese even better to bring. For some reason Tara was more productive sucking on lo mein noodles than a sloppy burger. She continued her perusal landing on the bed that didn't look slept in though the blankets on top looked wrinkled. The writer was probably sitting on the sheets as she wrote.

"You went to Chow's," Tara moaned in thanks when she bit into her first wonton.

Pam nodded taking in Tara's wardrobe an old blue tank with bleach stained with holes and a gray sweats rolled up to her calf muscles and white socks that most likely reached past her knees. The writer could never be described as the most fashion savvy, but Pam helped when it came to book signings or other functions where Tara's lounging clothes wouldn't impress as well.

Her eyes went back to the laptop. Something was missing. Viewing the room again she realized Tara didn't have a slew of paper stacked or laid out for her notes. "How's the book coming?"

The writer finished chewing covering her mouth with food still in her mouth she replied, "slow, but I've written some paragraphs I'm happy with."

"Paragraphs?"

"I said it was slow," she shrugged standing to get comfortable on the bed leaning against the headboard and pillows, "you aren't eating?"

The blond raises her left brow with a look of incredulity.

The writer chuckled Pam wasn't a big fan of Chinese, but that didn't stop her from picking at Tara's plate one occasion just because she could. "Get over here and bring those wontons with you," she nodded to the box she left on the table too lazy to get up and get them herself.

Pam didn't move.

"Please," Tara added remembering her manners.

The satisfied blond took off her shoes then grabbed the box on the way to the bed crawling on the mattress adjusting her pillows behind her back just like she liked them. Reaching for the remote she turned the television on refusing to sit awkwardly in relative silence while her lover ate. She flipped through the channels absently aware of the sliver of space that separated Tara's legs from hers.

"I don't think anything good is on," Tara offered.

Pam snorted, "Nothing is ever good on TV."

She stopped on a show she didn't recognize not as invested to finding something of substance to watch. Half watching the television and Tara from the corner of her eye she played with her bracelet again. Her focus the television blurred as she thought about all the things she wanted to say, but she also knew it would be unfair. Tara needed time and Pam would give it to her.

Tara laughed obviously at something on the television or maybe at the awkwardness of their situation. Pam chuckled half heartedly to act like she was paying attention earning her a speculative look from Tara, "what are you laughing at?"

Not wanting to be found out Pam answered immediately, "It was funny."

"What part of them arguing about who pooped in the bed is funny to you?" Tara queried with a knowing smirk.

Pam's faces folded, "what?"

"This is It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia this episode's about figuring out who shit in the bed that the characters share."

"Oh," Tara laughed at Pam's uncertain face, "it's funny," she defended her earlier statement.

They shared a look with two diverse expressions one very skeptical and the other adamant until both of their masks crumbled under the jovial weight of the moment. They laughed wholeheartedly and it felt great for Pam at least. And through her happy tears she saw her lover laughing with her as well seemingly happy. Was she happy? Pam wondered flipping through the months before Tara decided to leave. She had fooled Pam looking content touching her lovingly and the reckless joy she felt in the laughter dissipated as she sobered wiping at her eyes in earnest because sad tears were threatening to replace the happy. Refusing to cry in front of Tara she stood without warning and closed herself in the bathroom. Ripping tissue off the roll she dotted her eyes thanking the creator of water proof eye liner.

She heard Tara moving around with the TV still playing in the background. There was a soft knock, but she didn't respond collecting herself via the mirror thinking that perhaps she had been too rash to come even after her mental coaching in the parking garage, "shit," she hissed.

Tara knocked again, "Pam? Are you ok?"

"Fine," she answered abruptly lowering her head clenching her eyes shut closing off the part of her that began to inconveniently feel the brunt of their situation like a punch to her gut. "Fine," she reiterated when she was ready.

She reached for the door to see Tara sitting on the bed waiting for her. The carefree moment from before was lost and the blond knew it was her fault, but she couldn't help it. The emotions were sudden and she wasn't prepared grateful at least made it to make it to the bathroom before she fell apart completely.

"Hey," Tara greeted her.

"Hi," Pam leaned against the frame noticing Tara had put the food away, and a stack of cards were sitting in the center of the bed.

"I wasn't really getting any writing done," she left the statement there reaching for the deck shuffling the cards in a simple flourish.

She returned to the bed sinking onto it and putting her legs together crossing her ankles while Tara sat closer to the edge of the end of the bed wither her legs crossed. This was easy, easy felt great considering all the night she spent trying to distract Pam from the anger, the hurt, the confusion. Tara dealt two cards one faced down and one facing up. They began the game politely pulling cards from the deck when they needed saying "excuse me" or "oh, sorry," when their hands bumped into each other when they reached for the deck both needing another card to reach twenty one. After a while when they were bored with being polite Tara glared at the blond as she revealed for the third time in a row a perfect hand of twenty one.

"You're fucking cheating."

Pam withheld the smile that threatened to gloat calming it down to a smirk that Tara didn't appreciate either, "how am I doing that dear?" she queried innocently.

Tara didn't know so she didn't say anything shuffling the cards again after her defeat. Flicking the cards using the momentum of her wrist she haphazardly dropped the deck on the bed glaring at her hand examining Pam's face as she impassively read her deck.

"So," Tara decided to make conversation in hopes of distracting the blond, "why's a girl like you delivering Chinese to lowly customers like me?" she asked randomly.

Pam picked up on the game only because when they were together they regularly role played, although she didn't question how wise it would be to do it when they were on uncertain terms. Against her better judgment she played along playing with the line of her sweater then drawing another card from the deck.

"It's a job and I had nothing else to do with a Friday night," she shrugged eyeballing Tara's look of concentration. "What's a lowly customer like yourself holed up in here for?"

"I'm a writer," the dark skinned woman informed flipping her cards over, "stay," she meant her cards.

Foolishly Pam's hopes soared when she heard the one word statement deflating as quickly when she realized what Tara meant. Deciding now was a good a time as any to show her hand she placed her four cards face up. She smirked when she saw the writer's scowl.

"That's it! You're fucking cheating!" Tara threw her cards up attacking Pam until she was hovering over the woman inches from her lips.

"Prove it," Pam dared raising her head closing the distance stopping purposefully just before she touched Tara's lips. Her breath hitched when she felt Tara's probing hand on her thighs.

"You're hiding cards," Tara deduced.

Pam shook lowered her head shaking it making her head fan the pillow beneath her adorably. Tara loved when Pam's hair hung over her shoulders. And in certain styles she looked adorably innocent which thrilled the writer because she knew that underneath the vanilla exterior a vixen slumbered until the right phrase or touch roused her.

"You are," Tara reiterated intelligently.

Blue eyes lowered to Tara's lips she craved and she would beg for them if she knew that Tara would give in, "where would I put them?"

Tara answered with her hands running the tips of her finger along Pam's thighs before palming them in a harder grip. The blond didn't react which made Tara want to probe more. When her hands came up to the buttons of her sweater Pam's hand caught her wrist. With a caress that Tara perceived as permission the dark skinned woman continued to unbutton the sweater slowly. Her eyes never left from the ivory buttons that fell away leaving the sweater limp and Pam's pale skin exposed. When she reached the lower buttons her brow furrowed when she saw the edge of a card from within. She had only been kidding when she accused Pam of cheating meeting lust filled blue eyes that took Tara's uncertain hand to release the last button.

"Do I get punished now?" Pam sat up on her elbows asking the woman straddling her.

Tara moved off of the blond and Pam stopped on reflex wanted to reach out to her in order to pull her back and finish what they started. But she didn't and thankfully Tara didn't go too far.

"Turn over," she ordered Pam.

The blond still on her elbows grew giddy at the look Tara was giving her inwardly congratulating herself on the choice of Chinese.

"Now," Tara practically growled when Pam wasn't moving fast enough.

With ease the woman turned over on her stomach her elbows pressed hard into the bed with her hands clasped liked were about to pray. For the longest time she didn't feel Tara, but she knew the woman was watching her. Looking her over to deliberate what she wanted to do next and Pam didn't mind because even waiting was a sensual experience knowing that the wanted she wanted was taking her time with her. Pam only hoped it would be all night. Her behind rose when she felt Tara over her meeting the warmth of Tara's center.

"No," Tara hummed in her ear biting her earlobe, "ask from my permission," she growled palming Pam's behind roughly then pushing it back down.

Pam bit the center of her bottom lip, "please," she murmured.

"Please what?" Tara whispered.

"Please can I touch you?" she turned her head slightly wishing at that very moment that Tara could read minds and she claim her lips in a hard kiss. She wanted to be possessed. She rocked her body into Tara because she wanted to be taken over and over and over with months of pent up need bottlenecking at her sex. Damn she was wet.

"No," Tara refused her again mirroring the same rough gesture this time keeping her hands on Pam's behind to keep her there. The woman was too horny to be good. And Tara had not problem making her pay pleasantly for her obstinacy.

"Why?" the blond husked.

Tara ignored the question ordering her to get on her knees. The writer was tempted to rip off her lover's clothes. Tempering her excitement was a feet she rose to the challenge for because it pleased her to satiate Pam's need at her leisure. It was the show she knew the blond would put on for her specifically. The lip biting, the rolling her hips, the come hither shake of her behind that Tara's center wanted to lunge at and ride in earnest. Though, before they could play or even touched the clothes Pam needed to be taught a lesson cheaters never prosper.

Grabbing Pam by her waist she guiding her roughly at the height she wanted her with her behind sticking up in the air. Tara ran her hands over the mound while pale fingers dug into the sheets and a lowered head inhaled the writer's scent augmenting her arousal times ten. She whimpered at the first slap. It was too gentle she wanted more however Pam knew better than to be vocal. This was Tara's game, a test hit to gauge how ready Pam was. She moaned long before she was touched and after to show Tara that they had started something she wanted finished. That the throbbing need from her center demanded be finished—it didn't matter how long it took.

The blond jerked, hair fell in her face, when she was it again, this time harder with the palm of her hand sliding over the abused cheek. More, she mouthed to herself moaning when Tara read her mind and hit her even harder on the other cheek. Soaked and needy she pushed her behind up further answering Tara's now consistent hits with her own moment. Then two hands squeezed her painfully and she wanted Tara to take her skirt off. The blond needed it off.

"Are you hiding more cards?" Tara slapped her.

Pam shook her head and her breath hitched when Tara thrust into her grabbing a handful of hair in her fist. This was the perfect opportunity to grind into the woman behind her.

The writer felt the error in her latest position because she couldn't pull away immediately. She stayed and let Pam move against her. Enthralled by the motion of her hips her eyes lowered almost closing but open enough to see Pam's confidence. Hands slid under her skirt to touch the flesh underneath. Playing with Pam's panties she tugged at the edges grazing the skin with a nail like Pam liked. Grabbing them roughly she felt the fabric stretch then give on her final tug.

"Here?" Tara queried searching the destroyed garment her knuckles grazing Pam's center making the woman jump, "no," she throated pulled the panties down the left thigh where it stopped at her bent knee.

Pam tried to open her thighs hoping to ride Tara's knuckles to at least feel some contact. It would help, but the writer wasn't having it pulling away just enough pressing her bare hands on her soft backside massaging it. This earned her a needy whisper.

"Fuck," she needed to be touched in more pertinent area Tara was ignoring.

Tara's phone rang. Blue eyes hooded eyes acknowledged the device on the bedside. Tara wrapped her arm around her lover's waist kissing her shoulder trying to throw herself into the moment to ignore. Pam instinctively knew Tara wasn't into it anymore. Something had been broken so she pulled away turning over feeling for the phone that she eventually pressed into the writer's chest.

"Answer it," Pam commanded beneath her. She pulled for Tara's shirt when she felt her love attempt to rise supposedly for some privacy.

If Pam had to pin point when the cause of their troubles she would say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it began with a phone call rather several phone calls at all hours of the night. Tara began to carry her phone with her everywhere even to the bathroom and only on select phone calls did she take them in a more private place. Pam considered her lover was cheating, but it didn't fit her personality. Tara was loyal and dedicated to her she was too attentive to be enamored with anyone else under their roof. Although, since the writer moved out she didn't have the same certainty she had when she saw her every day, when she could ask about her day and gauge if she was withholding anything.

Tara didn't answer it and let it ring until it stopped. The tension was palpable and as much as Pam hated Tara right now she twisted her hand half into her shirt and half into the top her sweats because if for some reason she was inclined to leave, she couldn't. The phone rang again. The darker woman tried to pull away against Pam's wishes, she didn't get very far.

"Answer," Pam dared her.

"Hello," Tara turned her head away.

The simple action hurt, but blue eyes never left the troubled face looking off at the curtains of the window to their left.

"No—"

Tara was cut off by whoever was on the other end. Pam couldn't make out much, but her heart sank and her grip loosened when she the words "I'm coming up."