He stirred awake in the early gray-blue hours of the Manhattan morning. He wasn't sure what woke him, but it wasn't her because she was gone. She was always gone by now, whisked away by a dark SUV, it's exhaust rising into the frosty darkness along West 84th Street as she headed toward the Piers. For the better part of eight months out of the year he settled for waking up without her, as long as he got to fall asleep with her.

He rubbed a palm over his scruffy face, his piercing eyes staring blindly through the darkened room as he remembered last night and how she'd unraveled him so easily this many years into their romance. They were lucky. They didn't have to work at it, at stirring the spark or stoking the flame. Surely it didn't burn as hot as it had in the early days, but there were moments - much like last night - when they still craved each other.

He sighed heavily, dropping his hand against the bed beside him and willing himself to get up, well aware that the young ones would be up soon. He reluctantly pulled back the duvet, feeling a slight chill against his bare midsection. He tied the waist on his pajama pants, stood and stretched his arms overhead, his long frame elevating his knuckles nearly to the ceiling. The room was still dim, the sun only stirring outside. He padded thru the darkness, stumbling as he rounded her side of the bed toward the bathroom. The groan he expelled was cut short when he looked down and his sleepy eyes saw what lay in his path - her shoes strew on the carpet, one upright on its sole and the other laying haphazardly on its side. He smiled, bending to scoop them up and walk them to her closet. They were precious to him somehow, so he stood them both upright neatly at her closet door before turning toward the shower.

January 12, 2016

Tonight was different. Many times throughout the year he stood proudly at her side for photo ops, walked hand in hand with her to special events, could not hide how proud he was to be her other half. Every so often their roles reversed and he was the one in the spotlight and she was elated to support him. The cable comedy he'd been cast in was seeing some success with a growing TV audience and a budding social media following. She'd come far enough and carried enough clout in her own world that she didn't have to hurdle many obstacles to carve out time to be on his arm. He was hopeful when he'd asked her this morning - as she was leaving their bed around 5 a.m. - if she'd be able to make it to his cast party tonight. She'd smiled softly at him, kissed him firmly on the lips and nearly whispered, "You know I'll be there," before she slipped out of bed and into the shower. He'd be terribly disappointed if she couldn't keep her promise but he'd understand.

Her day was running long and running behind when she'd texted him mid afternoon to say she'd meet him there instead of riding to the venue with him. This happened too sometimes but he knew he'd have her better late than never.

A small group of paparazzi fired away from behind the stancion ropes of the small red carpet area the network had roped off for photo ops. He popped in and out of photos with his cast mates and extended his own long arms several times to take selfies with his own phone and those of his co-stars. He was busy enough that he wasn't counting the minutes that had slipped away past 7 p.m. and she hadn't arrived yet.

A young reporter from a Hollywood tabloid show had grabbed him for an on-camera interview. He was happy to oblige, as promoting the show – a project about which he was truly excited – came naturally to him. He was stringing together words effortlessly, explaining with laughter how his significantly younger cast mates were schooling him in the ways of social media, when he saw her. She was far off stepping through the entrance of the restaurant. As she made her way through the crowd, stopping to shake hands and offer kisses to the cheeks of those she knew, the first thing he noticed about her was her smile. It was infectious and perhaps the single most lethal weapon she'd employed to capture his interest and then his heart all those years ago. He kept talking to the reporter, but couldn't keep his eyes from slipping toward here as she made her way closer. It was only when she cleared the last 20 feet toward him and stepped around another couple that he saw her head to toe.

He swallowed hard, almost audibly, losing his train of thought and stumbling slightly over his words. The young reporter could see his subject was distracted and instinctively turned to see what had distracted the interviewee. Her hair was perfectly parted and her lips perfectly glossed. The black top she wore plunged deeply in the front, reaching the apex of her bra beneath. It was tucked into a tight black, leather skirt that hugged her hips as it made its way down toward her knees. Her olive-skinned legs were bare and also shimmering down to her ankles, which were tucked into the very same red stilettos that just over a month ago had left him impulsive and demanding.

The young reporter's eyes traveled quickly along her body and, even though she was much older than him, he too was taken by her appearance. He glanced back at the older actor with a knowing smirk, somehow sensing the interview was now over. "Well … um … I guess we're done here. Thanks for your time." And then he was gone, leaving no barrier between husband and wife, who, at this moment, were being pulled together like lustful strangers who'd had yet to touch.

He stepped to her and she leaned into him. "Hey, Baby," she said against his ear as they embraced. He pulled back, holding her hands in his and eyeing her head to toe. "You … look …" but he trailed off, not sure what words to put to what he was seeing and feeling.

"Thank you … I think," she offered with a flirtatious smile. "Sorry I'm late. How's it going?

At first she didn't think he'd heard her question. It took him a few seconds to answer, as if he wasn't entirely in the moment. "Oh, um, good," he stuttered. "Very good. Lots of coverage. Everyone's here."

"Did I make it in time for dinner?" she asked, glancing around the room.

"We were just about to sit," he said, reaching for her hand and leading her through the reception area to the dining tables set aside for the cast and crew. She greeted and embraced those she knew, one co-star who'd guested on her own show, and the female lead who'd they seen in a few Broadway shows.

The cast was seated on one side of a long table, while their spouses, partners and plus-ones sat across from them. The dinner conversation was robust, and the wait staff kept their wine glasses full. From across the table he watched her toss her hair, throw her head back in laughter, and wrap her slender fingers around her wine glass. She was magnetic and had no problem keeping conversation with even those she was meeting for the first time. She was so preoccupied he was certain she didn't notice him soaking her in. Of course he wasn't rude, engaging his cast mates, obliging when they egged him to take selfies, and politely responding to the wait staff as they served him.

He was awaiting the punch line of a story told by one of the associate producers when he was startled by what was surely her foot poking at the hem of his tailored slacks. He threw his eyes toward her in surprise but she gave no tell, no acknowledgement. She was so coy and straight-faced, he actually began to silently question whether he'd felt it all. And then her foot was higher, the sharp heel of red stilettos, gently stroking his thigh, pressing gently to open his legs further. He tried, he really did, not to look down into his lap. But he was guilty of peeking just once to assure himself it was actually happening. Then he had to reach into his arsenal of acting skills to cover his emotional and physical reaction to her seduction.

He took a long, long blink and nearly whimpered as the pointed toe of her shoe grazed his growing manhood. He was in trouble now. He couldn't make a fool of himself here, and if she didn't stop now, he wouldn't be able to stand up from the table without embarrassing both of them. He cleared his throat, sat straight up his seat and grabbed his cell phone, pretending to intently read a phantom text message. She took note of his sudden movements and laughed internally at her successful attempt to stimulate him.

"Hey, uh, can I borrow you a second?" he asked, his voice nearly cracking as he leaned across the table so she would hear him.

"Now?" she asked, wickedly pulling off a look of surprised innocence.

"Yeah. Now," he said firmly to her.

"Can you please pardon us a few minutes," he offered toward their tablemates. We have to call home, babysitter needs us."

He'd caught her off guard, and she immediately dropped her foot as concern filled her frame. He came around the table and took her hand, making a beeline for a concierge. His long legs and looming frame left her no choice but to keep pace with him. Yet she tugged back on his hand and stopped his forward movement. "Is something wrong?" she demanded to know, visions of their children dancing through her head. "It will be fine, just come with me," he said.

He approached the concierge and leaned in close, asking "We have a little emergency at home," he said, waving his cell phone casually. "Is there anywhere quiet where we can make a call?"

She couldn't hear what the waiter said but she saw him motion toward the front left corner of the venue. Then all at once he was pulling her again. Years of walking in heels gave her the skills to keep up as he steered them through the crowd and around other tables. Next thing she knew the crowd noise was fading as he led her down a small hallway, into an alcove, and past the coat check. He nodded at the clerk and kept moving, turning the doorknob of a closed room nearby and reaching his long arm around the doorframe to feel for the light switch. She followed him in and step aside as he closed – and locked – the door behind her.

She was worried now. "Tell me. Tell me what's going on? Is it one of the kids?"

But he didn't answer. In an instant he'd swung her around and wedged her body between his and the wall. He drove his face into her neck and nearly bit her, a low growl erupting from him. "The kids are fine," he said firmly. "But I'm not. What the hell are you trying to do to me?"

With his face buried in her neck, he couldn't see the worry drain from her face and the satisfied smile that replaced it. "I was just ,,,," an impromptu moan interrupting her sentence, "trying to have a little fun."

"Jesus, you've got me hard as a rock," he rumbled, grinding his hips against her. There was no mistaking it. She knew that feeling pressing against her mid-section, and she knew this frenzied side of him. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't meant to draw it out. She just intended it to be later, at home.

"We can't do this," she offered weakly against his hungry mouth. "You have to get back out there and do your thing. It's your night."

"I can't," he said almost desperately as he pulled his mouth from hers and threw his heavy breaths against her face. "I can't focus. I need to … I want you … I don't know what to do."

The desperation in him stirred something deep within her. His hunger for her made her hungry for him. She kissed him hard and pressed her palm against the front of his pants, sliding it along his length and applying pressure. He rumbled again and slid his right hand down and to the hem of her leather skirt. "Tell me," he breathed against her mouth. "What are you wearing under this damned thing?"

She summoned the most innocent smile she could muster when she said, "Panties."

He was way past playing here. "God damn it," he growled as he reached around, palmed her ass and pulled her body firmly against him. She managed to free her hand from between them. She used both hands to push into his shoulders and create a little space between them. He couldn't believe she was putting on the brakes. Good thing she wasn't.

Before he could protest, she began to disappear from his line of sight. She lowered herself along the wall, reaching down to hike up her tight leather skirt so she could stoop in front of him. She immediately busied herself with the bulge she'd create in his pants. His eyes slammed shut, his mouth fell open and his head lulled back.

"You don't have to do …" he offered weakly, breathlessly.

"Hey!" she commanded from below him. He opened his eyes to look down at her. Christ. She brought a single finger to her lips and quieted him. "Let me work. We don't have much time."

He felt like he should fight her. It didn't feel right having her on her knees in this public place. She'd worked all day, come here to support him and now was about to devour him. But he honestly didn't have much fight left in him. The moment he'd seen her walk in he knew he wouldn't sleep tonight until he'd had her. And when she'd used her foot to demolish his impulse control, he knew they wouldn't even make it home.

She unbuckled his belt, undid the button on his pants and began to lower his zipper carefully over the bulge. She smiled a little to herself, knowing she'd been the one to elicit this reaction from him. She rubbed him firmly through his briefs with one hand as she used the other to tuck her own hair out of the way behind her ears.

He reached down with three fingers and lifted her chin so he could meet her eyes. "God, I love you," he said. She knew. She'd always known. Yet she was still giving him new reasons to say it. She smiled softly up at him, mouthing "I know" as she untucked his cock from his underwear. It's weight sprung free in her hand. She wasted no time in running her tongue from bottom to top along its underside. She listened to his groans from above to navigate what would get him there most quickly.

She licked its length a few more times before she wrapped her lips around the head and began to take his hard heat into her mouth. When he felt as if she would swallow him whole, he pressed one large palm against the wall in front of him to steady himself. The warm wetness of her mouth dragged along his cock and the feeling was nearly unbearable.

It felt so fucking good, but he didn't want her like this. He moved quickly, pulling himself from her mouth and pulling her to her feet in front of him. She was somewhat startled and began to protest. "No," he said firmly, placing his own finger over her lips to stifle her protest. "I want to be inside you."

His words resonated in her belly as he turned her and walked her backwards to a six-foot laminate table further into the room. She held onto him as he lifted her onto it and hiked up her leather skirt so she could open her legs for him to step between them. He pulled her long legs up around his hips and slid his hands up the back of her thighs and under the skirt to find her panties. He was beyond caring about their color or fabric. He just wanted them off.

He moved quickly and when she would recount this moment in her mind later, she'd be unable to remember how he'd removed them. She only knew that her skirt was up, her legs were open and she was frantically pushing his shirt up and his pants down. He tugged her toward himself and the edge of the table as she fisted his cock. He drew three fingers upward through her wetness, finally eliciting a moan from her and a twitch from his dick, which was grinding in her hand. They didn't speak anymore – not words anyway – as she aligned him and he surged forward. He was inside her all at once and she thought she'd explode just from the moment of impact alone.

He was a machine now, reaching around and filling his hands with her ass cheeks as he pulled her against him. She rested her elbows behind her on the table and held on for dear life as he fucked her firmly. She could see him disappearing inside her and, all at once, she was happy they didn't wait until they got home. They could hear the muffled sounds of the music bumping outside in the restaurant, but it was secondary to the sound of his skin slapping against hers and the table beneath her creaking with the force of his thrusts and her shoes – those fucking red shoes – sliding along his ass.

"Fuck, baby, " he uttered as he drew her face to his and drove his tongue between her lips. She sucked on his tongue as she'd done his cock and rocked her lower body into his each time he filled her completely. He circled her clit with one thumb as he watched himself disappear inside her. The sight drew him closer to the edge and he sped up, hurdling toward his climax. She heard the rumble begin deep within him and felt the telltale jerkiness of his pounding thrusts. As he came, the head of his cock slamming against her cervix, she erupted too. She clenched at him as the waves rolled through her and he groaned above her. Finally he stilled inside her and collapsed forward toward her as her final waves squeezed his cock.

They were both spent. It was for much younger people to carry on like this, spur of the moment, in a public place, for a fully-clothed fuck on a Tuesday night in the middle of winter.