Submitted by @laurenwitt83

She could hear the aimless strum of his guitar as she entered the living room. She stood there just taking in the sight of him sitting on the couch, his eyes seemed to be out on the horizon overlooking the Vancouver skyline  and though his hands were firmly cluthchjng the guitar, she could tell his mind was a thousand miles away. His rythmuc  strumming was the equivalent of her fidgety hands, attempting to overcome an uncomfortable situation. His fingers produced the same three cords repetitively as if wishing them to hold the key that would orchestrate the answers that would lift the weight off of his present psyche. 

The passing of time  and quite a bit of self exploration had  turned his short fuse disposition, which was quite extroverted back in the 90’s into a more serene  accepting man who now humbly chose his artistry as a form of emotional outlet. Having set a goal to become the man that his mother would be proud of, he steadily walked that path throughout the years, peeling off layers of bitterness, arrogance, anger and self entitlement, whilst learning the most important things in life come in the form of the heart, and so he focused on the ppl he loved and nourished himself through generosity, trust and forgiveness. Unfortunately public lashing was a built in component within the profession he had chosen, and at times he was left exposed and raw to the point he wished he could lash out and vent the frustrations out of him in a way that would leave some destruction as evidence behind him. 

In the past three years or so being on stage singing his own songs served as a therapeutic tool, being able to express himself through his vocals, mediocre as they were, stilled his mind and connected him to his physical body, he enjoyed the adrenaline rush, the flow of fear turned excitement surging through his body. He loved the feel of his damp shirt, not completely soaked through after a concert, almost equivalent to the feeling of completing a challenging workout session at the gym. And the love the fans bestowed on him wherever he went was so touching, strengthened his belief that it was all worth it at the end. 
And yet at that given moment the turmoil within his body surged, any outlet was apparently trapped. 

The tabloid headlines were yelling out a may December romance and the fans had become flippant and turned on him bestowing him with titles truly unbecoming of his true self. He wished he could just wait it out untethered, but a form of sexual deviancy was where he drew the line, especially since Hollywood seemed to be awakening and showing, rightfully so, no tolerance for power plays of that nature. 
He wasn’t sure why he agreed to play along with the suggestion that seemed faltered right from the get go, but Gillian’s determination managed as always to sway his better judgment into a haze of agreement. 
She used words like “steer people off our tracks” and promised a sense of release of those reigns that seemed to be forever  controlling them as to not reveal the secret of their relationship.  Being the hopeful man that he was he found himself pitching an enticing idea  that would combine money and the opportunity of an upgrade in the life to a 24 year old. She would have to just hang around him once in a while, long enough for the paparazzi to catch them in close proximity, do some odd jobs here and there, make some extra cash, have her expenses taken care of for that duration of the Xfiles shooting and continue to have fun and carefree with her friends and the people in her life. What 24 year old in their right mind would say no to an appealing offer as that? 

“With people already subscribing to the notion Peter is my boyfriend now, you being seen with Monique will seal the deal, it will allow us some freedom.” She seduced him with that last word, “freedom”, she knew how taxing being in the public eye was.  the media’s constant need to decipher his relationship with Gillian felt like a never ending picking at a scab leaving it open and exposed to potential further damage. He wanted to ensure this wouldn’t  happen again. And so he shrugged his shoulders and said ok. And now he was filled with remorse.

He would never blame her for anything, his heart was too pure when it came to her, she knew she was his soft spot equally as much as she was his trigger. coming out of her latest meditation she was aware of the fact that she had done wrong by him, even though he would never admit to it if she were to ask him. And since he wasn’t a punishing man by nature, she was left with the task of beating herself up for sth that she could not undo now. 

She wished she could go back in time to the days when it was a bit simpler, when they were together in one of her favorite cities, New York, his home base, before she put her head in his lap on national TV and he had to sit on his hands to refrain from touching her further.

That whole Kimmel interview was just one long mess of constant touching which was provoked by that skit they had shot earlier that day. The friction of her pelvis against his groin each time he had to pull her upon him on that table left them both hot and bothered and infested their bodies with primal needs which didn’t get an outlet until later that evening. 

Acting out of pure desperation to better a situation backfired, it had stained  her reputation and creating an uproar against her, but now she has brought David before that same firing squad and the rifles weren’t loaded with blanks. She recalled the Mark Mann shoot with David in TriBeCa, she just couldn’t resist inscribing her photo to him with a joking comment referring  to Mann as her other lover. Whilst  in a safe setting that day she had paraded David proudly  as her lover, in between shots she would sneak a kiss, a fleeting touch, a whiff of his scent. She was an addict and he was her drug of choice. Even in her premenopausal state where she was barely recognizing her own body due to the changes it was undergoing he had the ability to bring that youthful potency and innocence she once possessed, accompanied by a roaring libido lubricated and in need of satisfaction. 

With short strides she is at his side, he promptly stops strumming, catching her liquid blue gaze, using it to center him as he had done numerous times in the past.

His lips curl up slightly and he exhales a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding in. Putting the guitar on the couch beside him he makes room for her within his personal space and she invades it willingly. climbing onto his lap she rests her cheek at the crook of his neck, brushing her lips against him. Her hand caresses his cheek, the damp coldness of her palm warmed by the radiating heat of his cheek. Slightly gripping at his jawline she tugs him  towards her parted lips, their eyes lock for a split second, a silent conversation of blue and hazel. His lips latch on to her lower lip softly suckling  on it as his hands pull her in closer to him, needing to lose himself within the solace  her tiny frame was offering him. She thrusts her tongue deep into his mouth seeking out a corner where she can deposit all of her apologies. In response he runs his tongue along the roof of her mouth reassuring her that no apologies needed, they were in this together, they will ride the wave until until the end. 
A surge of emotion cuts deep in her core and she pulls away, silently sobbing against his chest. He strokes her hair, kisses the top of her head and whispers, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Thank you so much for sharing! Hope you write more !