The Photographer

(12) How it feels after

"I've been worried fucking sick, Iris!" Ben yelled, all of his worry, fear and relief rapidly turning to anger as his wife stood in front of him, still in yesterday's clothes, yesterday's makeup but thankfully unscathed after not coming home last night. "I was going to call the police! I've been awake all night thinking all sorts and you just wander in and say sorry!"

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again shamefully, slowly rubbing a finger back and forth along the back of one of the dining chairs.

"Sorry?!" he threw the towel he'd been holding onto the countertop next to him in a rage, "I've been awake all night, desperately trying to phone you, texting you, scared shitless that you could have been attacked, raped, fucking murdered and laying dead somewhere and all you can say is sorry?!"

The guilt and shame made her feel sick and she eyed the kitchen sink, sure that any second now she was going to have to dash to it to throw up. She couldn't even look Ben in the eye, he was sure to know what she'd done if she did.

"So where the fuck were you last night?"

She lowered her gaze to the floor, nervously stammering "uhm... I stayed.... I was with..."

"Did you stay with Britta or Seb?" he asked, interrupting her.

Just the mention of his name made her insides feel like they jumped but in a pleasurable way, like the butterflies were just waiting for an excuse to escape and take flight.

Ben was rapidly loosing his patience with her and shouted at her again, "Iris!" He should have been at work early this morning, should have been starting at six AM and opening up the coffee shop, instead he'd had to phone his boss at four and explain that he wasn't sure if he'd be in at all today as his wife hadn't come home. He'd been so worried, so beside himself that something bad had happened to her that he'd broken down and cried - on the phone to his boss.

"Seb," she mumbled, unable to lie and say she'd stayed with Britta.

There silence for a moment and he looked surprised and then suspicious, "you stayed with Vettel?"

His suspicion made her panic and she clutched at straws in her mind, trying to find an excuse, "we had a bit to drink, Britta went back to her room, I crashed on his sofa."

"But you never get drunk," Ben pointed out. While Iris enjoyed a drink, she didn't drink to excess and hadn't been drunk for a very long time. She preferred to remain aware and in control and if she was drunk then she couldn't do that and it scared her.

She tried hard not to dwell on the way she'd woken up next to Seb on his bed earlier on, how effortlessly beautiful he'd looked in his sleep; his long lashes, his perfect nose and cushiony, soft lips that had felt so divine pressed against her own when they'd kissed....and the way her heart had felt so full of him, like he'd completed her, like the final piece of a puzzle. A lump formed uncomfortably in her throat as she pictured his gorgeous, peaceful face before she'd snuck out of his room and left him.

"So you ate with him and Britta, got drunk and slept on his sofa?" Ben asked, frowning as he aired his thought out loud.

She nodded, if she spoke now then she knew she'd break down. Her guilt was hitting her like a sledgehammer and what was making it worse was that she didn't regret it. She'd spent the night with Seb, let him touch her and make her cum with his fingers and his tongue and she didn't regret a moment. She knew it would never happen again, it was over with him before it could even get started and that was the way it had to be. So why did she feel like she already missed Seb so much?

"Iris!" Ben snapped her name when she failed to respond again, she looked pale, as though she was feeling quite hungover. Well good, she could feel like that all day for all he cared, she deserved to feel like shit for the way she'd made him suffer last night.