Fireworks

Beautiful, explosive, captivating. Fireworks in the night sky can make even the most brilliant of men forget for a moment, the warmth of the gentle flame awaiting them faithfully at home.

A touch. A pulse. Long seductive eyelashes.

He hadn't heard his phone ring like that in quite a while. Two years, in fact, encompassing a fall, a mission, a return and a wedding. His wife is still an hour away from the end of her shift. It had been a particularly uneventful day, that is, until a woman's moan reverberates throughout his home.

The Woman. Extraordinary. Their eyes lock and there are sparks.

He's almost afraid to read the message, but he really and truly loves his wife that he gains the confidence to do so. After all, he had managed to turn down dinner when he was still single, what more now that he had already vowed his heart to the one he loves? She might have a case for me…, he reasons with himself.

Two years without a word from each other, and yet I'm sure you'll be reading this. Let's have dinner. –IA

Her pupils dilate and so do his. In her eyes, a challenge. No, a longing.

He's almost relieved. It's just the same old dinner invitation. All he has to do is what he used to: ignore it. So why can't he put the phone down? Another moan.

You're doubting yourself. You never doubt yourself. You know where I am. Dinner is waiting. –IA

He looks around the flat, wondering if she could see him. She deduced him, partially at least, without even seeing him. Incredible woman, his blood starts to ignite, just a tiny bit. The woman.

She stands up, wearing an exact replica of his robe, turning around. He knows where she's going.

No one will know. Secret dinners are the most enticing, I think you'll agree. –IA

The moans start filling his ears. His mind starts wondering what other sounds she can make.

Let's have dinner. –IA

He follows her. He knows he shouldn't, but he does.

Dinner is waiting. –IA

They find themselves inside the most beautiful bedroom he's ever seen, dangerously near the most inviting bed he's ever encountered.

I am waiting. –IA

The blood rushes down to a place only his wife has ever touched. The thought of Molly gives him some breathing space.

She faces him, untying the robe as she walks closer. She sheds it and she is bare. The room just got even more beautiful, the bed even more difficult to resist.

Two years without seeing each other and still you're contemplating my request. That alone will tell you just how much you want dinner, Mr. Holmes. –IA

She's right. The damned woman is right.

He can feel her breath right in front of his face. Wordlessly, she takes his hand, lifting it and spreading his palm around her ample breast. His breath hitches, and yet he feels powerless to take his hand away. Their eyes are locked once again.

He has his coat and scarf on before he notices it.

She removes everything from him. His coat, his suit, his shirt. His hand is still on her breast. His pants, his underwear go off next. Without even looking, she wraps her long fingers around his manhood, and his brain goes haywire. Her eyes are smirking at him, ("Already hard? My deduction was right. You do want dinner."), and oh yes, he wants this.

Let's have dinner. –IA

He's already out the door.

She starts stroking, and he can't help the groan that escapes his lips.

"Kiss me, Mr. Holmes."

Hesitation. She senses it, and she stops her hand. He almost whimpers.

"Kiss me. I can deliver. You know that. Kiss me."

His ring glimmers from the hand that's holding her breast. For once in his life, he doesn't notice. He leans in and she starts stroking again. He starts squeezing and the first of her moans come. He feels a guilty sense of triumph at the sound.

"Kiss me…" she whispers.

He leans in even more, his brain and his body both having given in and are now eager for everything The Woman can offer. His heart, unnoticed as usual, breaks in the background.

Their lips touch, and it starts out exactly how their acquaintanceship started. Explosive, seductive, consuming. Fireworks.

Molly Holmes decides to walk the way home, having received a text from her husband that he's going out for a case.

They fall onto the bed, the perfect match. Their mutual sounds of pleasure fill the room, just as it unknowingly sucks the joy out of his life.

There are fireworks in the sky and Molly smile. How beautiful..., she thinks. She's never been very intuitive.

Note: The author had broken her own heart writing this. Or whatever heart she may have. She had written this two months ago on a plane, but it had been too hard reading it that she had to delay typing it on the computer. Suffice to say, one of things the author can not tolerate at all is adultery.