Read Nora 5 here (see “Similar Posts” at the bottom of this post for any earlier entries)
Round 6 Challenge: Incorporate a White Russian and the words “over the line” into your next passage, which should be no more than 500 words.
Catherine felt her blood start to boil as the meaning of those words crashed upon her purring semi-consciousness. She shoved Arthur off her ravaged body and bolted up, her prodigious breasts spilling about.
“Wait a long minute. What did you say? The man in that photo? Your lover?!”
Arthur leapt up as nimbly as a panther, wincing as his half-swollen salivating maleness swung out and slapped against his defined Adonis-like pubic bone. He clutched Catherine by her velvety shoulders. “But darling, I told you! When I asked if you understood you cried out, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’”
“Fool!” Catherine cried, tearing herself from his grip. “Are you nothing but a perfectly sculpted torso? I wasn’t in my right senses!” Catherine began weeping into her hands, her oversized breasts bouncing rhythmically with the sobs. “I never expected it would come to such an obscene end! Oh, Arthur! What indecent desire drove you into… oh I can’t bear saying it… into the muscular arms of another man?”
“You must listen, it’s more complicated…”
Catherine was suddenly overwhelmed by the image of another man mounted behind her husband, plunging forth with barbaric cries into the forbidden depths of his tanned rock-hard buttocks. “If that is what you wanted, Arthur, you should have told me. There are things we could have done…”
Arthur suddenly cried out. “Oh, blast it all! It’s you I fantasized about, Catherine. You whom I imagined in my place, being mauled by Richard…”
Catherine stared in shock at her husband. “Is this what it will take, Arthur? Must I offer up my body to another man to preserve our marriage? Is my only unjust choice to have my lady business mistreated and violated by a stranger?”
“No,” Arthur said hoarsely, his python languidly rousing from its slumber. “Not your lady business.”
Catherine turned scarlett with outrage. “You mean… but that’s over the line, Arthur!” Her widespread rump, silhouetted in the moonlit window, clenched up briefly in physiological self-defense.
“That line was crossed long ago, Catherine. I was a coward not to have told you. Will you try it? For our marriage. I’ll watch by your side, angel. Maybe I’ll even join in.”
Catherine gazed at the moon with a heavy, betrayed heart. She extended her left hand. “Show me again this man who is to steal my brown-eyed virginity.” Arthur brought the photo. She imagined the mask of merciless subjugation Richard would wear while he muscled his way into her uncharted territories, oblivious to her whimpered protestations.
“He is a most remarkable individual,” Arthur rushed to assure her. “His grandfather was a White Russian, a top general in the White Army that resisted the Reds in the 1920s, so he comes from top stock.”
Catherine sighed in resignation. “If this is what it takes, so be it. Ask him to join us for dinner at his earliest convenience. And do make haste, Arthur. Our marriage is at stake.”
The next evening at 5pm on the dot, the doorbell rang.