dark end of the street .

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FORTY-EIGHT hours ago, infidelity didn't matter to the brunette; forty-eight hours ago, cheating on a husband that had done nothing but shown her kindness was simply caving to the inevitable. If he didn't already have a mistress, she would have been shocked; if he were shocked by her decision to sleep with another man, he was more of a fool than she had pegged him for. In her mind, it was no more than a physical act that didn't mean anything so she never felt guilty for it. This time was different. She felt guilty because she had turned into the type of woman that she didn't want to become. She had turned the purely physical into an uncomfortable churning that she tried desperately not to dwell on. If cheating didn't mean anything when it was simply sating a desire, then what did it mean when her fingers threaded through his and agreed to stay until the sun rose?       AS soon as the fog of sleep waned and morning roused her, the guilt set in and his grip felt stifling. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, she could barely look at him. Even when he mumbled something in that heavy accent she'd grown to adore, she barely flashed him a smile before tugging on her the rest of her clothes and tying her hair up so she didn't look as bad as she felt. With a quick peck to his cheek, she bolted out the door and vowed to avoid him until the icky feeling in her gut vanished. Maybe it would help when his father came home and she had the man at her side. Maybe with that safety net, Jeremiah wouldn't dare let his hands wander and she'd be able to control her gaze lingering. She just needed the opportunity to clear her head.       SOMETHING the universe refused to let her do. After spending two days alone, she had decided to put her wedding band back on -- how could she have sex with her husband's son with it on? -- and answer a call to the elder Walker. She had been childish to ignore him and his calls, she had been even more childish to lounge in the home their shared watching television and sipping wine. She had forced herself to stop leave the house -- continue to drink, but at least she was drinking in public. Too bad drinking in public meant snapping at any male who came within five feet and glaring across the bar at the one person she meant to avoid. It took all of twenty minutes to remind herself that she wasn't this pathetic -- and another five to completely ignore the voice in the back of her head pleading with her that jealousy was beneath her.      SCREW him. In a few smooth strides, she was standing at their table, emerald gaze flicking from his hands on the woman to his face, gauging his reaction and failing. "Mia," she mutters, sounding nothing but affection despite the tense set of her shoulders and the cattiness of her next words, "You might want to take the beer goggles off, sugar." Even as she spoke, she knew it wasn't going to earn her any points, but anger egged her on. Her tone is polite and there's a smirk tilting the corner of her lips, but anyone could see the flash of annoyance brewing in her glare and the way she gripped her glass. I don't like people playing with my things... She conveniently ignored that he wasn't hers to begin with. She shrugs, completely ignoring his guest. "Or not. Maybe that's just your type."    TAGGED @jeremiah    NOTES i'm 100% incapable of writing decent        starters, the future will be better fgdgdfgd.

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It was quiet in the house now. Two days wasn't long enough for Jeremiah. Although Esme didn't belong to him, she belonged on his bed. Tangled up in the sheets and waking up with a mess of curls on his chest. This time he didn't have to hide the attention he longed to give her. They met with urgent kisses, releasing the built up tension between them. She wasn't across the table from him, giving him a stern look as his knuckles brushed against her clothed leg. His advances were welcomed, followed by a tussle in his sheets. It should've felt wrong to kiss upon the lips that rightfully belonged to his dad. His own dad, the man who brought him into this world. But she was a temptress. Strutting around with tight dresses and low cut shirts. Begging Jeremiah to take a look at what she was flaunting and what he essentially couldn't have. His step-mom truly had him under that wicked spell. No matter how wrong he tried to tell himself this was it didn't stop him from wanting it. For the hopes that she would let him take her to bed one more time. The bed was cold when he woke. Brown curls were vacant from his side which caused him to sigh. An imprint indicates where she has been. His fingers traced the lonely spot. Briefly remembering the peck she had given before departing. It wasn't the empty spot that woke him but the buzzing of his phone. With the sleep in his eyes, Jeremiah reached for the phone praying that the temptress had changed her mind. Wishing to come back to the warmth of his arms. What was he thinking? He didn't date and he most definitely didn't keep a girl around for that long. Not since Chloe's mom. The buzz continued to annoy him until he finally it off the chord. "What?" Elena didn't appreciated the clipped tone. She was in need of him watching Chloe for a few hours while she went to work. That was the end of their conversation. She had given him just the right amount of time to prepare for his smiling daughter. The door to his bedroom shut, leaving the evidence of the night before behind him. Couple of hours turned in to days. Not that he minded, his daughter was never a burden to him. As of right now the only thing that required his attention were some high school history reports. Meaning the grading could wait. After two Chloe packed days, Jeremiah treated himself to a night out. The proposal coming from one of the closest friends he had since coming to New York. The bar not too far from the apartment was the usual hang out for the southern gentleman and his friends. Usually it was for a beer and some wings but tonight only drinks. Toasting to the single life they all were living. Free from the clutches of a crazy woman for just a few hours. It's atmosphere was different the ones in the Deep South. Texas would always hold a special place in his heart, even if it meant leaving the place. The blonde at the end of he bar caught his eye. Her sly smile coming to her face as his left eyelid dropped. Giving her the charm that he was so accustomed too. Jeremiah got her off the bar and to a table. A place for the two to talk. Her hand briefly touching his thigh, getting higher and higher each time. His lips dipped down to her ear. "Now darlin', we better save that for a better place." Accent probably sounding thick and low in her ear. A red blush appeared on her cheeks as she sipped on her fruity drink. The beer in his hand was now his third. But not in a row, Jeremiah was good at pacing himself. At twenty seven years old, he had much experience with hangovers and knowing the limits. The blonde has stopped her touching by the looks she was giving weren't so subtle. Arm was draped around her chair. Allowing the intimacy of their positions to increase. It wasn't until the devil started coming towards him that he first saw her. Two days ago she had left his bed without a word. The devil was now in front of him, tempting again with her outfit. "Esme," he nods his head towards her while taking another sip of the cold beer in front of him. Her next words cause him to nearly choke. Cattiness was new for her. The blonde who was named Cheryl shifts awkwardly beside him. Jeremiah's eyes go down to the drink in her hand then back at the brunette. Narrowing his eyes a bit, he speaks to her finally. "Is that your way of saying you missed me?" It's still an awkward encounter for the woman beside him. "Excuse us Darlin', I think this conversation needs to become private." He's out of the table now, letting his left eye fall down to the blonde. Jeremiah ushers Esme away from the blonde and out of the ear of most people in the bar. "What the fuck was that? Thanks for the cockblock" Jeremiah's tone is laced with annoyance as he stares at his step-mom. tagged @esmeralda notes wow this is terrible?? listening to country to get myself in the mood, u know?

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THE nauseous feeling only amplified when she glanced at the blonde, realizing what she'd said wasn't purely for his benefit. She should have apologized, done something more than offer a brief glance in her direction, but... she didn't. She didn't even bother to wipe away the proud smirk that had adorned her lips the moment she caught his attention. Esme hated this, hated the feeling burning her skin and making her feel like they were in high school all over again. She wasn't a child, but she was acting like it and she knew she was. The last of her drink burns the back of her throat before the glass is abandoned on their table. Perhaps the liquor would keep the green eyed monster at bay and her guilt from swaying her to apologize.       SHE knows the second he slides out of his seat that it's not because he's overwhelmed with affection -- or lust, she needs to remember that it's purely lust that lies between them -- but frustration baiting him to her side. Maybe she should apologize now, at least in private, to him. Or maybe she should keep being vile, maybe then he would avoid her in equal measure as she had tried to avoid him. She adjusts the slope of the collar of the deep emerald dress, then hem of the skirt, only managing to ruin the efforts she had made to cover her chest. On a typical evening, she wouldn't care who saw what, but tonight -- she was uncomfortable. So it was easier to fidget with her dress than look up at him, at least until they were safely away from the bulk of the patrons.       GIVING him the most innocent expression she could manage -- which really wasn't much -- she attempts to hide the truth of her intervention. Jealousy, pure and simple. "Sorry, baby, were you actually interested in her?" She runs her fingers through her hair, smoothing out tangles and brushing thick locks out of her eyes. "I thought I was helping." Herself, maybe. She lets out a slow breath and leans against the wall, picking at her cuticles and watching him from beneath her eyelashes. She would pretend to be nonchalant instead of wilting under his glare, the last thing she wanted was to let him see that he was bothering her by being mad. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Once you've had the best, you only can go down from there."      ANOTHER heartbeat and the cattiness is turned down -- not quite off because she's still repressing the desperate jealousy bubbling under the surface, but it's not as prominent in her next words. She still doesn't look up, she's focused on her impeccable manicure. "Have you fucked her?" None of her business, she knew it, but it slips out anyway. Not that she truly wants to hear the answer. Wouldn't it be better if they were sleeping together? Maybe for him to even like the strange blonde? Esme was married to his father after all. She was beyond selfish to stand before him, demanding answers, but that didn't stop her from staying put, waiting for him to explain something she didn't deserve an explanation to.       NOTES i'm listening to justin timberlake. whoops.

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The ring is back on her slim finger. He noticed it immediately as she steps up to their table. With the drink in her hand, his eyes falls to the diamond ring that his father pleased her with. When their fingers were laced he hadn't felt it, as he intentionally looked for it. Gone from their moments of pleasure. Jeremiah wants to react more at the ring, but he can't. Once again, he reminds himself that she's not his. Maybe their decision to actually do something about their lust was wrong. Typical woman to feel the need confront him about another woman. But in fact, he wasn't her's. It was his bed that she chose to flew from mornings ago without even a word. A casual fling is all that it was. All that it could be. He very much would like to do it again, but that was in her hands. The blonde next to him isn't as beautiful as the brunette standing in front of him. Each woman being a different kind of beauty. Her blue eyes pulled him all the way from the bar, making him want to get to know her. At least for the night. With her advances Jeremiah figured that she felt the same. Blondie is giving him an odd look as he slides out of the table. Confused at why this woman felt the need to interrupt their intimate conversation. Jeremiah's not embarrassed about Esme's blunt manner, in fact he likes this side that she's showing him. Though she's meaning to be mean and harsh with him, he can't help but let his lips pull into a smile as he's fully standing up. One of Blondie's lips falls into a pout once he's out of this table. He gives her that country boy smile that's been working for more than a decade now. Eyelid falling to her as he ushers Esme again. Standing up next to her, their height difference is shown. She's not particularly short but Jeremiah's also not a small man. Following in the foot steps of his tall and bulky father. Though he was a few inches taller than his father, it's a good height difference between them. As they are alone in the bar, he notices Esme's attention is anywhere but him. Fingers playing with the hem of her dress.  Bar is still moving around him. People not even realizing their conversation as he's got her in a more quiet area. Away from all the wandering eyes and ears, really. Now that she's doing picking at whatever stitch in her dress, their eyes are locked. An awfully innocent smile reaching her lips as she speaks to Jeremiah. Poor Blondie is getting the wrath of the green eyed monster act Esme's pulling. "I don't know why that concerns you," he narrows his eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest. "I don't need your help, darlin,' his accent thick as he says the word darling. In that southern drawl that he knows she likes. Jeremiah's mouth turns up in a smirk as she speaks about her being the best. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?" With those words, he takes a step closer to her. Little distance between them could be dangerous but he's willing to see it. The perfume that he must have sprayed enters his senses. Internally, he's groaning at how good she smelled. Like most girls who knew what they were doing. "Are you jealous?" One of his eyebrows goes up as his question to her. "Haven't fucked her, but definitely was planning too." It's a lie, but he can't help but play at her little game. "Take her back to my place, fuck her senseless. Think she'd like that?" He looks away from her and back at the blonde sitting at his table, who would be more than willing to come home with him.  @esmeralda notes i'm sorry... listening to more country music because why not

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SATISFIED that she had managed to offset his plans with the woman, but still feeling guilty for her cattiness, Esme wasn't sure whether she should look contrite or keep the arrogant smirk on her lips. How old was she again? For a moment, she didn't feel nearly her age. Maybe ten years younger, half that, even. She was being childish and foolish and beyond selfish. Jeremiah was attractive and good in bed, but... was he worth cheating on her husband for? Causing drama when there was none necessary? Yes, was immediately written in the forefront of her mind, but it didn't make her feel any better. It would have been nice if he had remained in the safe circle of men she could sleep with without feeling anything, but he weaseled his way in without doing anything. If nothing else, that thought wiped the grin from her lips and made her clench her jaw in frustration -- entirely with herself.      PART of her hoped he would tell her he was just having fun, that the woman wasn't going to replace her spot in his bed. Her spot in his bed -- she needed to remember it wasn't her spot to claim either. "Confidence is the most attractive quality in a woman - or has Cosmo been lying to me?" Her fingers itch to wipe that smirk off his face, but she knew that wouldn't make things any better for either of them. He was enjoying this, she could see it my the tilt to his mouth and she hated it. She blinks and he's suddenly in her space, breathing the same air as her. Shit. Even with beer on his breath, he didn't make her want to take a step back. She wouldn't because she couldn't. If she backed up, it would show exactly how much he affected her. Damn. "You just can't keep away from me, can you, sugar?" Deflecting was a mastered skill set she was pleased to have today.       JEALOUS. That stupid word. It makes her stop fidgeting and finally drag her gaze to his, grinding her molars to dust in the process. It's not funny anymore, not to her, now she's more annoyed than she had been when she watched Blondie's hands all over him. "I was going to let you take me home, but..." She couldn't bite, she couldn't bite, she couldn't bite, but dammit she was already biting and there was no way to hide it, no matter how confident she pretended to me. "I bet your pillows still smell like me. She might like what you do to her, but you won't be able to help thinking of me." Or that could have been wishful thinking on her part. A shoulder lifts in a half-hearted shrug. "Anywho, guess I'll go find someone else to take me home."

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Jeremiah should've felt guiltier about the situation at hand. His father was away on business and he was keeping his much younger wife company. He wouldn't want the beauty to be bored while he most likely played golf in Texas with his buddies. If Jeremiah knew his dad, it's what his entire business trip had planned. So while he was probably aging by the minute, he was shacking up his wife. Like father like son, he had to remind himself. Fidelity ran through his veins much like his father's. Apparently Esme's as well. He wasn't a bit surprised by her proposition to bed him. In all honesty, Jeremiah knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. With legs like her's, there's no way he was going to avoid her for much longer. But her running from his bed was going to stop after this time. She wouldn't escape him after all, him being her son and all. Jealousy sketched Esme's features. Eyes narrowed, calling the harmless girl names. He knew a woman that was being territorial, it came often in these types of settings. Esme surprised him though. Just like any other woman, the claws were out. Even if he was just a one-off to her, she didn't like anyone else associating with her play thing. It was all predictable. Another smirk curved on his lips. "Cosmo? Really? I didn't peg you as a reader." Jeremiah fought the urge to laugh, just imagining her reading the dirty magazine. "I bet you check every month for some new tricks for Old Man Walker." With that, he was closer to her. Enough to smell the perfume that she probably dabbed on her neck and wrists. One that his dad got for her, along with the necklace outlining her tan chest. "I think it's you that can't stay away from me, darlin'." He gives her a wink while teasing her. There was no denying how much Jeremiah desired to talk her home now. Forget about Blondie at the table who was waiting for him. Waiting for him to come back so she could sink her pretty little teeth into him. Hook him in for the night with those skilled fingers that were already making their way up his leg. She didn't want to admit that she had been avoiding him. It was rare for a girl to run from him, even if it was just nothing between them. "Oh were you?" Jeremiah's eyebrows went up, challenging her. Blondie now comes back to his mind and The green eyed monster comes back to him in the from of Esme. "How about we test that out? Cause I've got a good way of making them forget just about even their name." His voice is low and he's close to her ear when speaking his last words. Thoughts cross his mind of her with another man. His Jealousy won't make him seem to obvious, Unlike her. "I don't think so." Hands grab onto her face and slam his lips to hers. Instantly he regrets this, realizing their public position. The passion makes him pull back. "Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." Jeremiah growls while looking at her pink lips. notes i'm sorry...again

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WHAT kind of woman had Esmeralda become that she felt it was perfectly acceptable to marry a man whilst also placing some sort of claim on their son? To her benefit, Jeremiah was also older than her, which somehow made the entire thing okay in her mind -- at least as okay as she could feel when her wedding ring was on his nightstand or tucked away in her jewelry box, choosing to ignore her marriage altogether. Part of her wanted to wish that she had never married his father, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Not because she was particularly in love with the older man, but because she knew if she hadn't, she never would have met Jeremiah. Even thinking such a sentimental thought urged her to back off, not to push this with him. She shouldn't cling to their tenuous connection.      NEITHER lacked in confidence, which made for a dangerous mixture. Where she poked at him, searching for reactions, he gave her the flicker of one before tucking it away and prodding right back. It was a childish game, baiting the other into jealousy and she was falling victim to it and growing increasingly frustrated by his lack of the damnable emotion. "There's plenty you don't know about me," she offers a half-hearted shrug, the statement being more true than just about her penchant for the magazine. Though it wasn't as if she offered up much to him. The person people saw was the person she wanted them to see -- superficial, fickle, overtly sexual. "Don't worry, Sugar Plum," she leans in, as if she were sharing a secret, "I can teach you a few new tricks too." She simply chooses to ignore his assessment that she couldn't stay away from him.      LIPS purse, preparing to bite out another round of venomous words targeting his choice in women -- any that wasn't herself, of course -- but his hands are on her and she's momentarily blindsided by the swift turn of conversation. One moment she's throwing a temper tantrum, the next his hands are on her, his lips are on her, and she's lost whatever it was that was seconds from rolling off her tongue. For a few moments, the obligation attached to the ring on her finger didn't exist, the blonde groping him was a thing of the past -- she forgave him for something she had no right to expect him to seek forgiveness for. If either of their friends or colleagues, or her husband's colleagues, saw them like this... The thought doesn't have the chance to fully form before he's pulling away and she's rocking back on the balls of her feet, but still leaning into him, hands fisting his shirt.      THERE'S a genuine smile on her lips, the catty smirk wiped away. "You should always do that." Not that he actually could. What a foolish thing for her to think, let alone say. But she doesn't want him to regret the kiss -- she doesn't, even if she should. "Is your conscience getting the better of you, Mia? We can forget this, just say the word and I'll walk away." NOTES THIS SUCKED WOW