Veronica stumbled though the rest of the night, pantomiming her role as housewife, her inner thoughts and feelings a jumble of heat, lust, confusion.  Jacob looked like this guy from highschool, also German, but she didn't know his name.  She had found him cute in a dorky way, but she had an eye for the big beefy mancakes.  Now that she had been married to one for a while, she realized it wasn't her preference at all.  Jacob appeared to have all the qualities she admired in other women's husbands, or maybe some gay men she knew that she just wished would swing the other direction.  Sighhhhhh.  Dinner, dishes, bedtime and stories.  Then Steve.  Like every night.  Except this time Veronica was in the mood for sex, and Steve was good in the sack.  8 years of marriage meant he had an idea or two about how to please her if he tried, and she had a way or two of getting him to remember to try.  Her body was primed, her thoughts were across the street. 

Steve was in the shower when she was getting ready for bed, and he called out for her to get herself ready for a night of hot fucking.  Veronica didn't mind that, sometimes she preferred it.  It was better than pretending she was in love with him again.  When they could disconnect from all the feelings of anger and disappointment, they could connect with the lust and passion they both carried around all day.  At least they could give that to each other, it was something.  Veronica knew  she could never stay sexually faithful if he had abandoned all of her needs.  At least one or two were met, some days.  

Their bodies met like two animals in rut, no time for polite niceties, he had practically mounted her before getting all the way into bed.  After thrusting and lunging from the front, he turned her on her side, leg up to her chest, and then entered her while standing off the side of the bed.  Veronica held onto the post of the bed, he had her legs and hips in his hands, pumping and pausing, teasing and pulling back, then thrusting in again.  Then he pulled out and flipped her on her belly, legs apart like a wheelbarrow, her body leaning on her forearms like the cobra from her yoga classes.  Except the part where the Cobra King climbs in between her knees from behind and fucks her into a delirium.  She climaxed, then he did, and he put her down into the pillow pile.  She didn't move much, while he slid his fingers up into her and caressed her soft, wet mound.  Veronica moaned while he gave her another orgasm, all for herself.  She didn't speak, just moved on his hand and then rolled over.  Arms tossed across her body and over her head, legs splayed and knees bent.  Steve kneeled over her like a hungry dog, already hard again, ready to go.  He picked up each leg beneath her knee, pushing her onto her back, and he entered her another time.  She panted and snorted and moaned, then he bent her knees up into her chest, her feet on his shoulders, and finished.  He knew he was being a bit too rough on her, but he also knew she was too fucked out too feel it as much or care.  She'd be asleep in a couple minutes, and probably forget the whole thing by tomorrow. 

Morning coffee had Veronica staring out the downstairs window, across the street to Jacob's house, wondering how she could live a double life.  Sex with Steve had been better than most nights, but she had also been fantasizing about Jacob.  He was doing those things, but also taking the time before to read her poetry, and stroke her nipples and suckle her breasts and neck and belly and thighs.  Veronica reached down and touched herself, she was still throbbing from the night before- or was it her new fantasy bringing it all back and alive again?  She decided she'd go see Jacob later, bring some coffee cake, make it an official neighbor visit.  Then she could bring the kids another time, if she had to.   

Her day sailed smooth, somehow the kids were not the unruly traitors of yesterday, and she suggested their father take them  to the park with the miniature train rides for the afternoon.  It was almost an hour drive away.  She mentioned the new neighbors, a couple from Germany, thought she'd say hi when she was done making dinner.  Veronica bought Steve's favorite, brisket, and put it in the crock pot with potatoes, onion, carrots, celery, and garlic, a few bay leaves, and set it on simmer for the afternoon.  He'd smell it and know dinner would be great in a few hours, and she'd be off the hook from toiling over the stove.  She had bought a coffee cake and left it out for Steve to see, with a sticky note on it, saying, it's for our new neighbors Jacob and Moira.  Veronica remembered her hot passionate days with her highschool alterego, and she felt her body pulling in, straightening up.  She put on her red underwear set and high zippered boots.  Out of the back of the closet she found a soft knit angora sweater dress.  It was deep maroon, with a loose cowl neck, and set off the highlights in her hair, when she remembered to use the henna shampoo.  Which she bought this morning on her shop for brisket and cake.  She looked fantastic, felt even better.  Steve looked up and noticed the difference in her, and Veronica leaned over and kissed him on the lips, firmly.  "Last night was so fucking hot, I'm still wet from it," she said as she pushed him out the door with the kids.  Steve smiled a sad smile, a look she hadn't seen in years.  He almost looked as if he had won a rare trophy.  His wife's approval.  

Veronica waited ten minutes after they left before exiting the front of the house, coffee cake in hand.  It was Saturday, and she expected that Jacob would be home.  She hadn't seen his car come or go, and she hadn't thought about it.  Knock knock, knock knock.  A breeze blew by and chilled the bare patches of her leg, between the boots and skirt of her dress, she felt chilled and suddenly very naked.  Three minutes, a few more knocks.  It sounded like something was going on inside, but no one came to the door.  The cake got heavy in her hand, her heart got heavier in her chest.  The lust of the last day turned to quicksand, pulling her into it, a slow suffocating defeat.  Veronica turned away, and stepped down the first step.  The door opened behind her.

"Veronica, is that you?"  It was Jacob, thank goodness.  She paused and turned around.  At that moment, the sun moved behind the thick slab of marine layer that fogged the LA air, and cast a spotlight on her pale skin, and reflected off her eyes.  She looked like Snow White, but hotter, a cartoon bird or two flew round her head.  

"Yes, I was just bringing some coffee cake for you and your wife, " she said somewhat loudly, pushing past him into the house.  Just in case anyone overheard them.  Veronica knew it was silly to say, but it was necessary to practice the routine if the play was going to be fine drama instead of vaudeville.  Jacob looked at her quizzically, and she walked into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.  He followed her, and she lay back against it, arms aside her on the counter, back arched, and breasts thrust up through the soft angora knit.  She looked directly at him, her eyes piercing his, her lips slightly parted.  Her hair had been brushed through with 100 strokes, silky and shiny and still, an onyx river of light over her shoulders.  Jacob walked up to her, putting his hands on either side of her waist, between her elbows and body, and leaned his pelvis towards hers.  She pulled in her breath.  In all her years of marital unbliss, she had never crossed the line.  Ever.  And now the line was crossed, the ribbon cut open.  His erection pressed into her, his hands pulled inward to her waist and pulled her forward.  

"You look amazing."  He leaned in to her lips, and just grazed them, pushing past and burying his face in her neck, taking in her scent.  She wore Chanel today.  His nose nuzzled up and down behind her ears, and his tongue flicked lightly over the nape, and up to the lobe, and then a nip of tooth on her chin, and then a firmer tug on her lip.  She gasped, he laughed.  "And you taste even better."  He put his right hand behind her neck, pulling her head forward, and then started kissing her, finishing what started the day before.  His left hand pulled her dress up over her hips and buttocks, and started tugging down her panties.  He pushed her back until she was resting on her elbows, and pulled down the neckline of her dress, biting and licking her collar bone, the dips in the base of her throat.  She moaned, and he kept going.  His right hand slid under her dress and pulled her bra off her breast, cupping it in his hand, squeezing and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger.  She tried to pull back, but couldn't, and then found herself pushing forward, into him.  Letting go and giving in by diving in.  It was heaven.  

Her hands found his button and zipper, and his hard cock pushed out.  He wasn't wearing underwear, and she was amazed to find him in her hand so quickly.  He was very hard.  She slid her hand softly down the shaft, then pulled up with a bit more pull, then softly down, the up again.  He tightened and grew longer.  His hands pulled her underwear down to her boot ankles, and he lifted her onto the counter.  In just a moment, he was between her legs and trying to push inside her, and she cried out. "Not here".  He thrust a little more, and she said,

"On your bed.  Show me the stars."