naughty, naughty girl.

Mellisa and Mark are lying in her bed together. "Mellisa, I have to get back home. I shouldn't have come here in the first place," he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. The whole night flashed before Mellisa's eyes. They'd talked, truly bonded. She'd felt like his equal and not just some teenager with a crush. "Mark, no. Please, don't say that. Please tell me you enjoyed tonight."
"Enjoyment isn't the concern. I'm married."
Mellisa sighed, "I know."
"Well, that's the end of the discussion, huh?"
She felt like she'd been slapped. For some reason, the statement struck as an insult. It was as though he was just dismissing her. She felt like nothing. She felt as though the entire night had just been a big dream.
"No, it's not."
Mellisa wasn't about to just let him off that easy. He couldn't just come over and lie in her bed and then walk off like it'd never happened.
"Fuck, Mellisa!" Mark yelled.
She instinctively jumped back. Mark had never yelled like that at her. Ever.
"What, Mark? You want me to say it's all going to be okay? Is that what you fucking want? Too bad!"
"You act like this is easy. It isn't. This, this sneaking around isn't easy. It's hard as hell. I'm sick of it! I'm sick of making up excuses about work or Jason or some other shit just so I can see you. It isn't worth it. You won't lose anything if people find out that I've been over, that I've slept over here. I lose everything, Mellisa. I lose my wife, my reputation, my friends. I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry. This is the end of whatever this was."
"You can't just turn your back on me. You know you can't."
"I have to. Mellisa, if I was some carefree twenty something it'd wouldn't matter. I'm not. I'm old enough to be your dad. I'm twice your age."
Mellisa sighed, "Don't you think I know that?"
She laughed.
"I know, but it doesn't change anything. I still feel the same way about you and I'm not sure, but I think you feel something for me too."
Mark laughed, "You're wrong. You're wrong about everything. You don't mean anything to me. You're nothing. I just want you out of my life! It's over, Mellisa! Accept it and move the fuck on."
"I could ruin you in a second. I have plenty of proof that you've been over."
"When's that ever mattered before? I'm Mark Hudson," he said.
He grabbed a bottle of wine from the nightstand and took a swig.
"I don't even know you. No one knows you. Angela doesn't know you. She doesn't know you're over here almost every night. Amanda doesn't know; Casey doesn't know; Johnathon doesn't know. You live one big lie and you always have. You always will. That's who Mark Hudson is. Sound so great now?" Mellisa asked.
She yanked the bottle from his hand.
He'd drank a few glasses earlier in the night and after his latest swigs, he was pretty buzzed.
"You're a little slut. You're a homewrecker. That's who Mellisa Jones is. You sound like a piece of shit to me."
Mellisa slapped him across his cheek. He tried to get up out of the bed, but fell back into it.
"You can't go home like this, Mark. You're drunk and Angela's going to know something's up if you go home like this. Lay down, okay?"
Mellisa chose to ignore the insults he'd slung at her and instead, tucked him into her bed. She lay beside him and he breathed on her neck. "I'm sorry, Mellisa," he slurred. "I forgive you." She rubbed her fingers through his hair and sighed. His hand pushed up her shirt and ran down to the small of her back. His other was wrapped loosely around her waist. Mellisa took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She smelled the alcohol on his breath as he moved his face closer to hers. He wrapped his leg around hers and Mellisa opened her eyes. He was smiling at her and said, "You're beautiful. I don't know if I've ever told you that. You're going to make a great wife one day. He'll be a lucky guy." Mellisa laughed to herself at thoughts of the insults he'd just spat at her and now the compliments he was handing out. How ironic.
Mellisa knew that if she'd ever be able to kiss Mark and possibly more, now was the time. But she couldn't bring herself to do anything about she. She couldn't, while he was drunk, kiss him or have sex with him. She wanted to so bad, but she couldn't.
Mark moved both his hands up her shirt again. He grabbed at her bra but Mellisa moved his hands down.
"What are you doing? This is what you want. You want me," he said.
Mellisa shook her head.
He ignored this and went for his shirt instead, ripping it off. "Show me!" he yelled. "Show me how much you want me!"
He pushed himself on top of her and laughed, "Don't tell me you won't do anything because I'm drunk. When the fuck has it ever mattered to you before? You kissed me when you were half asleep, dating my son."
"Mark, you don't want this. You love Angela and you know it. Just get some sleep."
It took all her willpower to say that. Here Mark was, shirtless and on top of her, asking her to kiss him. She'd always thought this was what she wanted. So why did it feel so bad? So wrong? So hard to just say yes?
Why, why, why?
Mark slunk over into the spot beside her and nestled his head into her shoulder. She felt his breath hot on her chest. She closed her eyes, said a little prayer, and went to sleep.