Five Times, Part 2

Previously: Five Times, Part 1 [U]

Rated: AA. Heavy petting (but not seat wetting).

* * * * *

Part Two: Ashley

Ashley stared in shock at her wife and then glanced over at her father-in-law. He seemed as surprised as she was to see Spencer.

But what a sight Spencer was.

Her wife was simply beautiful. She was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a brown suede jacket which Ashley had bought her a couple of years before. It was more in keeping with the colder climate of Seattle than a Southern California summer’s day, but it was so quintessentially Spencer. The t-shirt she also recognised. She wondered if it still had a small grease stain on the back, just above the hemline, a remnant of Spencer lying on the kitchen counter, Ashley climbing on top of her, their illicit passion unable to wait for the bedroom. That was either the third or fourth visit Spencer made to the loft after their separation. Spencer had been particularly needy and desperate that time; Ashley had been pleasantly bruised and sore for days afterwards.

Spencer’s hair was a little shorter than the last time they’d been together. It had been cut in a choppier style, and the layers really suited her. The feel of her wife’s hair between her fingers, strands moving over her chest as Spencer kissed her way across her torso, was one of Ashley’s strongest sense memories.

“You look good, Spence,” she finally said. It was true: despite everything, her wife was still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Spencer replied, her gaze shifting anxiously between Ashley and Arthur. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

“I thought you were apartment hunting till after dinner,” Arthur said.

Spencer gave a little half-shrug. “One of the rental agents cancelled. The place got taken off the market by the owners.”

Ashley didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Spencer was there, in Los Angeles, something she had wanted for over a year since she had been asked to leave their apartment in Seattle. Unlike the other times she had seen Spencer, there was little chance of being distracted by sex. She glanced in Arthur’s direction. As long as he was in the room with them, she was safe. Alone, she would give in too easily if Spencer were to step towards her.

Each time Spencer appeared at the loft, their interactions were mostly wordless. Only once, during their most recent meeting, did they speak more than a few sentences. That was the only occasion when Spencer didn’t start dressing immediately afterwards. She had gone to sleep in Spencer’s arms, almost lulled into believing they could start over, right up until the point when she woke up the following morning and Spencer was gone. No note. Only the smell of her wife in the bedding and some broken crockery and disarranged furniture indicated that she had ever been there.

“Well, I’ll leave you to talk, then,” Arthur announced, shifting uncomfortably.

“No!” Ashley said forcefully. She took a calming breath. “You two live here. I don’t. I’ll leave.”

No-one said anything as she got her things together. Spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, biting her bottom lip. Arthur just continued to look uncomfortable. Who could blame him? It was uncomfortable.

Ignoring her wife, she went over to Arthur and hugged him tight. They didn’t need to speak. She knew he felt bad for her. He would never have put her in a situation like this intentionally. That sort of manipulation was beyond him.

“I’ll call,” she told him, as she stepped away. He nodded, head and eyes downcast.

She couldn’t let herself look at Spencer again, so she turned quickly and headed for the front door, away from her wife. If only she could make it to the car and get out of sight before she started crying, she would consider that a win. She got as far as the front yard before Spencer caught up with her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her around.

“Ashley,” Spencer said.

The desire to ignore everything and to lean into her was intense. She could faintly smell Spencer’s perfume. Having worn the same scent since her teens, she had finally changed it. Maybe it was a gift from the mistress, or maybe Spencer had bought it to impress the slut. Either way, Ashley felt jealousy rising like bile. She wanted her Spencer, not someone else’s.

“What is it, Spence?”

“We need to talk.”

Up close, Spencer was still gorgeous, but she also looked tired. Her body was tense. There were bags under her eyes and her normally glowing skin was pale, her face drawn. Ashley couldn’t feel sorry about that: she had to think of herself first, though. “We’ve needed to talk for a while now, yet we’ve managed to struggle on.”

“I came back for you, Ash,” Spencer said. “I want for us to start over.”

“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?” She shut her eyes briefly, trying not to think about the warmth of Spencer’s touch on her arm. Those hands had given her some of the finest moments of her life.

“I know, but all I can say is that I’m here now.” Spencer let go of Ashley’s arm. She stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. “I really fucked up.”

Ashley wasn’t about to disagree. “Where’s the mistress?”

“I left her. Ten weeks ago.” Spencer stared evenly at her. “It was never going to work because she just wasn’t you.”

Ashley wondered if that was before or after they had last had sex. It didn’t really matter. It really wasn’t that easy. She wasn’t that easy. “Didn’t stop you fucking her in our bed.”

Spencer winced. “Not while we were together.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay, then.” She shook her head. “Also, define together.”

“After you moved out.”

“Moved out?” She couldn’t keep the mockery from her voice. “You’re calling that me moving out? Funny, the way I remember it, you told me to leave because I wasn’t what you wanted any more.”

“That’s not what I—” Spencer stopped. “This is why we have to talk.”

“Funny, I was thinking this is exactly why we shouldn’t talk.”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“And I didn’t want my wife to leave me for some seven-foot-tall whore, but life isn’t always fair.”

Spencer ignored her bitterness. “Can we meet at the loft?”

Ashley scowled. “Why? You wanna fuck?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“But that’s what we do.” She sighed. “It’s what we always do. And sex doesn’t always make things better, even if it seems like it at the time.”

“I know,” Spencer said quietly. “I get that now.”

Ashley didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t really feel that she should be the one saying anything. She was the one who was thrown out of their home. She was the one who found her wife in bed with her mistress. She was the one who had rebuilt her life, without Spencer, only for her wife to keep appearing, making her think that things could be fixed, just for her hopes to be dashed again.

“Maybe talking about this right now isn’t such a good idea,” Spencer said.

“You think?” Ashley shook her head. It should be raining, she thought. A scene as pointless and depressing as this was better suited to winter than summer in LA. The sun was too bright, for a start. The background sounds of kids playing out in the street, their endless summer only just beginning, belonged in a different scene, as did the smell of neighbourhood barbecues which wafted by, making her stomach growl again, despite her recent meal.

“I told you—I’m still in love with you, Ash. I can’t stop, and I don’t want to. I want to come home. I want my wife back, if you’ll have me.”

For months, those words were all that she had wanted to hear. Every time Spencer dropped by, Ashley was sure that the words would come, and she would say them back, then Spencer would stay, not just the night, but for the rest of their lives. The last time they were together, Spencer had said many things, and she had still left before sunrise. Actually hearing them now made her sad and a little bitter.

“They’re just words. You threw me out and moved that slut in. That says more than your words.”

“I made mistakes, lots of them, but things were bad between us for a long time.”

“Yeah, but fucking someone else wasn’t the way to fix them.”

“Like you fucked Aiden?” Spencer mocked.

“You know, I didn’t actually—fuck Aiden, that is—but you’re right. Being with him at all behind your back wasn’t the answer, either. But I was willing to work that through with you. I suggested counselling—”

“How were we going to do that when you were in Seattle and I was in Vancouver? Skype?”

“We both agreed that me staying in Seattle was the right thing to do. And I didn’t want to be sitting around in Canada with nothing to do, moping. Pretty soon, I’d have resented you for that, and you would have hated me for feeling sorry for myself.”

Spencer opened her mouth to say something, but held herself back. She muttered something that Ashley didn’t catch, and then took a few deep breaths. Ashley sighed as well. They had had this fight before, too many times to count. In different words, maybe, but it was still the same fight. It didn’t really matter who had left or how. What mattered was that they had chosen separate lives and didn’t try hard enough to be sure there was still enough left over to still make a life together.

“Let’s not do this. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

“There’s no point talking, Spence. It won’t change anything. We need to move on.”

“I don’t want to move on, and I don’t think you do, either.” She dropped her voice. “You never once told me no.” She was obviously referring to her little visits.

“No, I didn’t, but there’s only so many times you can whore yourself out before you start feeling like a whore. And I think I’m worth more than that.”

Spencer looked like she had been slapped. “How could you even—”

“You left your mistress’s bed to fly home to fuck your wife and I let you. It’s not something either of us should be proud of, so don’t try to dress it up into something that it wasn’t. It was just pity sex.”

“Pity sex? You think I pitied you?”

“Why not? I did. I pitied me and I pitied you if your new life was so bad that you had to come crawling back to me.”

“I can’t believe you’d say that. It was never like that.”

“And I can’t believe you want to see it differently. We’re through, and we both have to accept that.”

Spencer was crying, tears staining her flushed face. Ashley hadn’t even noticed that happening. “I don’t want to accept it. I refuse to let you say that. And you don’t get to choose for both of us. I get a say in this, too.”

“You don’t have that right any more. We’re not together. We haven’t been together for years. We tried, and it didn’t work out. We have to find a way to get past it.” She took a deep breath. She could only keep up a front for so long. She didn’t believe what she was saying, and she was pretty certain that Spencer knew that. But she was also sure that moving on was the right thing for both of them, even if it wasn’t what her heart wanted. They needed to find a way to be apart, to start new lives of their own. “I’ll speak to a lawyer. You shouldn’t have to live with your parents. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

“I don’t want your money,” Spencer muttered. “I never did.”

“I know that, but I want to do this anyway.”

“No.”

“Stop being stubborn.”

“I’m not the one being stubborn. You’re the one who won’t admit that we should be together.”

“Spencer, don’t.” Seeing her wife cry and knowing that she still loved her desperately, Ashley wanted to pull her into her arms and make it all better.

“Can’t we start over? Just one more chance?” Spencer pleaded.

Ashley wiped the sweat from her brow. When had it got so hot? She was suddenly tired and too hot and the sun in her eyes was making her squint. “You wanna get out of here and go for a drink?”

Spencer eyed her warily. “A drink?”

“Preferably alcoholic.” She chuckled. “Definitely alcoholic.”

“Erm, yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.” Spencer was clearly unsure at the abrupt change in tone, but, truly, Ashley just didn’t want to be out in front of her wife’s childhood home, raking over the old coals of their marriage when they could just as easily fight somewhere with air conditioning and alcohol.

Ashley pulled her phone from her back pocket. “I’ll call a cab.”

* * *

Three years ago

“Honey, I’m home!” Ashley called out, throwing the front door locks.

There was no reply, so she wandered towards the bedroom. The lights were off and the bed was neatly made. Spencer should have been home before her. Her train had got in three hours ago and Spencer had texted, asking her to hurry home after her gig. So she had.

To an empty house with no sign of Spencer.

Nervous and a little worried, she texted Spencer as she made herself a drink. A little bourbon would settle her.

Where’s my beautiful wife? x

She drained her first drink and poured a second. Flopping down onto the old leather couch they’d picked up at an estate sale, she waited for a reply. It was nearly twenty minutes and another drink later when her screen lit up.

Bumped into some friends. Didn’t notice the time. Be there in 10. I missed you x

Yeah, so much that she found time for a detour on the way home, Ashley mused.

This time, Spencer had been away for four months. Ashley had been looking forward to some quality time with her wife, rather than the occasional stolen weekend in a shitty chain hotel full of other members of the film crew, all of whom thought it acceptable to knock on their door at all hours of the night.

She should just have moved to Vancouver, Ashley thought. It was, after all, where Spencer worked. In two-and-a-half years of married life, they had spent less than six months living together, and most of that had been at the start.

They moved to Seattle in the first place because Spencer got a job on a TV show. She was a glorified production runner, but it was a start. Even better, she was quickly promoted to production assistant, then to third assistant director. Meanwhile, Ashley joined a band, The Julia Project. They were probably never going to be huge, but they got work—decent-sized clubs, decent money.

Life was good.

Then the show got cancelled after only two episodes had aired. Luckily, the production company had been prepping another show in Vancouver and Spencer picked up a job on that. It seemed sensible for Ashley to stay on in Seattle. Vancouver wasn’t far, a little under four hours on the train, less if driving. They could commute, see each other on weekends. And who even knew whether the new show would last any longer than the last one? Spencer might be home in a few weeks.

But a few weeks became a few months. The show got renewed for a second season. It would only be filming for seven months of the year, so Spencer would be home for nearly half the year, they reasoned. And the band were starting to get some radio airplay. They even made it into the top 100 of the download album chart for two whole weeks.

Filming wasn’t a continuous seven months, rather spread out over the year, so their life became a series of hellos and goodbyes. Ashley knew she shouldn’t complain. Plenty of couples lived that way and made it work—military families, for example—so it was possible.

Ashley missed her wife every moment of every day. She didn’t doubt for a moment that Spencer missed her, too. But they got used to living alone, to not being a couple, and it made it difficult for the first few days of their reunions. In between the sex, there was awkwardness. It always passed, but it was always there.

She fixed herself another drink and waited. It was almost half an hour later when Spencer came through the door. She dropped her bags at her feet and rushed over, throwing herself onto Ashley, covered her face in sloppy kisses.

“God, I missed you,” Spencer said. She smelled of vodka and garlic.

“Yeah.”

The blonde pulled back and frowned at her in a slightly exaggerated manner. She was at least tipsy, if not drunk.

“Are you not pleased to see me?” The tone was salacious, and Spencer obviously expected a positive answer.

“Eventually.” Her arms were still by her sides, her glass in one hand.

Spencer giggled and ran a finger across Ashley’s cheek. “Aww, poor baby feeling abandoned?”

“Maybe.”

Spencer rolled off her lap to sit next to her, her hand resting proprietorially on Ashley’s thigh. “Some of the crew were on the train, in a different compartment, and we bumped into each other as I was leaving the station. So we all went for a bite to eat, and then Petr, Debs and Erin suggested drinks. I didn’t think you’d be home this early anyway,” she finished defensively.

“Three a.m. is early?” She didn’t really want to pick a fight, but she couldn’t help feeling jealous that Spencer had put her work friends before her. Again.

She’d met Debs and Petr a few times when visiting. They were nice enough, although Debs was somewhat over-familiar for her taste, a little too keen to make comments about their sex life, as if showing how totally okay she was that they were a lesbian couple. Petr, Debs’ boyfriend, was Slovakian, and she found his dry wit more appealing, but he didn’t say much, letting Debs do all the conversational work. Erin was a name she hadn’t heard before. Still, she couldn’t understand why spending a few more hours with people Spencer virtually lived with twenty-four-seven was more important than coming home.

“I didn’t realise it was so late.”

“You didn’t exactly hurry when you did.” Ashley carefully removed Spencer’s hand from her thigh and placed it on the couch between them.

“Couldn’t get a cab.”

“You could’ve texted.”

“Kept thinking one would show up in another minute or two.” Spencer was huffing, even though Ashley felt she was the one who had the right to be aggrieved.

Trying to keep the hurt out of her voice, she asked, “How long are you home for this time anyway?”

“Three weeks.”

“Three weeks? What happened to two months?” Spencer had promised eight weeks, but Ashley had got used to not depending on such promises. A week here, two weeks there and the odd weekend didn’t make for much of a marriage, but it was where they were.

“Reshoots.” Spencer picked at the arm of the couch. The scratching felt like it was going straight through Ashley’s spine. “It’s a good thing,” she said. “The network has ordered an extension of four episodes, so I think we’re definitely gonna be picked up another year.”

Yeah, that was great news: more time apart. “So you’re going back to Vancouver?”

“Not for three whole weeks.” Spencer’s tone was teasing, but Ashley didn’t find it funny or cute.

“I could move up there.” Even to Ashley’s own ears, her offer sounded non-committal at best. “If you get renewed again.”

“You would do that?” Spencer sounded so hopeful.

Ashley shrugged. She didn’t want to; selfishly, she wanted Spencer to come home to her, not the other way around. She knew that was unfair. She was rich enough that she would never have to work, but she didn’t want a life as a housewife, waiting around all day for Spencer to come home.

Spencer got up from the couch, reaching out to steady herself against the wall as she nearly tipped over. She went to her bags and rummaged around, retrieving something and hiding it behind her back as she walked back to the couch. “I got you something.”

“You did?”

Spencer pulled the gift from behind her back. It was a moose dressed in a Mountie’s uniform and holding a Canadian flag. “It was the tackiest thing I could find,” she said, waggling it from side-to-side.

Her father used to bring her the most ridiculously tacky stuffed toys from all his tours, even when she was well into her teens and the gifts were no longer appropriate, and Spencer had picked up on the tradition. Despite her simmering anger, she admitted, “I love it.”

“Thought you would.”

She couldn’t keep her resentment in check. “I would’ve loved it more if you’d have been here with it when I got home.”

“Aww, don’t pout.” Spencer straddled Ashley’s lap, tossing the stuffed toy over her shoulder. She eased the glass from Ashley’s hand and twisted around to place it on the coffee table. She laced her hands behind Ashley’s head. “I’ve got something else for you, too.”

“What?” Ashley placed her hands on Spencer’s hips. Sex was probably not the best idea when she was tired and angry, but she could already feel herself getting wet. All it took was Spencer’s tone of voice and the implication of her statement.

Spencer leaned over and whispered, “You’re gonna have to find out for yourself.”

“That right?” Her breath hitched as Spencer licked her neck then blew lightly on the wet skin.

“Uh-huh.” Spencer pulled back. Her grin was all sex, easy confidence and promise. “You wanna clue?”

“Sure.” Ashley could feel her pulse kicking up a gear, especially when Spencer took her hand and placed it just inside her waistband.

“It’s in there, and it’s all for you.”

Ashley moaned, her fingers fumbling clumsily with the button and zipper of Spencer’s jeans. When she felt Spencer’s wetness against her fingers, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop. At moments like this, she could still believe that Spencer was hers and hers alone. More than that, she needed to believe it.

“For me?” she growled possessively, thrusting her fingers inside Spencer without ceremony.

“Always for you,” Spencer grunted. Her head fell forward and she buried her face in Ashley’s neck, kissing and sucking and biting.

As Spencer pulled her top off hurriedly and adjusted her hips to ride the fingers Ashley was thrusting inside her, Ashley pushed her doubts to the back of her mind and focused on the sex.

They could always talk later, she told herself, knowing that they never would.

* * *

Ashley directed the cab to a little place by the beach that she’d been to a few times. It had only been open a couple of years, so she’d never been there with Spencer. There was no point making things even worse by going somewhere which held old memories.

They selected a table out on the deck where the light spray from water-misters and the breeze coming in from the Pacific cancelled out the heat and ordered drinks—bourbon over ice for Ashley, gin and tonic for Spencer. Ashley asked the server to charge them to her card and also to keep them coming, slipping the girl a ten to make sure that happened.

As if sensing that they needed a brief ceasefire before the next fight, they kept to safe topics. Ashley told Spencer about how she’d landed her new career as a almost by mistake. She turned up at an audition for a radio commercial because they were looking for a guitar player for the backing track, and the director persuaded her to try out for the voice-over as well. The work was steady, the pay was good and she enjoyed it. The hours were a lot better than being a musician, too.

She asked Spencer about the show and heard what she had already learned from Arthur: it had finally been cancelled. Ashley liked to think that the introduction of the Amazonian Erin as a new character towards the end of the second season led to its demise. Her character unbalanced the brother-sister dynamic of the two leads. Also, Erin was a home-wrecking slut, although, granted, most of the viewing public didn’t know that. Then again, most of the viewing public had no idea that Erin was even gay. Spencer had never been mentioned in any of the interviews that Ashley had read. Not that she had read interviews with the mistress just in case her wife was mentioned. Of course not.

It was good just to talk. It felt like they hadn’t talked properly in years. Yes, the conversation was stilted at times, but it was still Spencer. Just hearing her voice was enough. If she squinted her eyes and ignored the last year of her life, they could be Ashley-and-Spencer again.

Spencer’s voice was more of a drawl than it used to be, but maybe that was just because she was choosing her words carefully, or it could just be the tiredness. Her posture was terrible, shoulders hunched over her the table. Her nails were bitten down, not manicured. She looked like she could sleep standing up for two days straight. The girl she married had been light and full of fun. The woman in front of her was mature, cautious, sad.

Some things hadn’t changed: Spencer still wore her wedding ring—both of them did—and her smile was still radiant. The small gold cross on a chain that Paula had given her for her twenty-first birthday still lay nestled just above her breasts. Ashley wanted to reach out and touch it, trace the line of the chain and feel Spencer’s skin against the back of her hand, as she done so many times.

“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked, her eyes soft.

“So many things are different, but so many things are the same,” she said honestly.

“Like?”

“New perfume, new hair.” She took a sip of her bourbon and stared out across the ocean. “Old jacket, old jewellery.”

Spencer pushed against the back of her wedding ring with her thumb, raising it slightly from her finger. “I like my jewellery. It’s simple, but it’s me.”

“Oh, nothing about you is simple.”

Spencer just laughed. “Nothing about anyone really is.”

“I am.”

“Really? You think?” Spencer gave her a bemused look.

“What, you don’t agree?”

“You’re more complex than you think.”

Ashley shrugged. “Not so much.”

“In what way?”

“My needs are simple: good food, good clothes, good sex.”

Spencer smiled, shaking her head. “You and sex are not simple.”

“What’s not simple? I like sex. I’m good at it.” She looked at Spencer for confirmation, but got none. “I said, I’m good at it,” she prompted, motioning to a different passing waitress for another round of drinks.

“I heard you.”

“And?”

“And what?” Spencer grinned.

“And?”

“You want me to feed your ego?”

“Maybe.”

The blonde smiled and leaned forward, dropping her voice. “You are a fucking god in the sack. Goddess. Whatever.” Ashley grinned in satisfaction at first, but then Spencer continued, “You are so good that you have ruined me for all other women. If you open the dictionary and look up sex, there are no words, just a picture of you. There are times when I am surprised that they haven’t erected statues to your glory. Children should be made to study your techniques in Sex Ed.”

Her mocking tribute was interrupted by their drinks appearing. They paused awkwardly while the waitress futzed around with glasses and napkins and straws and other shit that frustrated Ashley. Spencer laughed at her, not unkindly, but because she always found it amusing that Ashley let herself get wound up by the tiniest of things.

“You’re not funny,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, I am,” Spencer grinned. “And sex isn’t as uncomplicated as you’re making out.”

“Bullshit. Sex is sex. It was probably the only thing that we always did right.”

Suddenly, the light teasing vanished. Spencer shook her head. “No, we didn’t.” She paused, obviously thinking of the right words. “For a long time, because we were just kids and because, well, because hormones and fear and all sorts of stuff, we got used to showing our love through sex, so I thought that was our language, but I was wrong about that and I’m sorry.” She waved her hand in frustration. “I thought you knew it was my way of saying how much I needed you, how much I loved you. It took me a really long time to understand that I’d been saying all the wrong things. Or, really, not saying enough at all. I thought you just knew. But you didn’t get it, did you?”

The question was rhetorical, but Ashley wasn’t following what Spencer was trying to say anyway. It made little sense to her.

“I know you thought sometimes I used it to control you, to make you do what I wanted, and that was never true.”

“I don’t think that you used sex to control me.” It was a lie, but she was surprised that Spencer had ever known she felt that way. She’d thought for some time that Spencer used sex as a distraction, as much as anything: the misdirection of a magician desperate that you didn’t see what else was happening right before your eyes.

“You did. And I don’t want you to get upset because I’m not getting at you or picking a fight because of it. I know there were times you thought I had sex with you just for the sex, or because I wanted to prove some kind of point. All I’m saying is that I never did.” Spencer reached out and placed her hands over Ashley’s. “Well, maybe sometimes I had other motivations, but it was always about love as well. I’ve always wanted you, because I am in love with you, and I should have told you that. I should have said it until you were sick of hearing it.” She smiled sadly.

Ashley looked down at her hand. The feel of Spencer’s hand over hers, the pressure of her thumb sweeping across her knuckles, was something she had missed. Holding hands was another of the things that they did well. She wished she had the courage to turn Spencer’s hand over and just hold it properly. Instead, she moved hers away, picking up her drink and sipping it thoughtfully.

“What about with her?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking anyway.

Spencer raised her eyebrows. “You want to know about sex between me and Erin?” Ashley nodded her head, biting her lip. “It was different.”

“Than us?”

“Yeah.”

“Different how?”

“Less…” Spencer winced. “Less intense, less raw. I don’t know. Just, less.”

In a small voice, Ashley asked, “So why did you want her?”

It was a few moments before Spencer finally replied, “Because she wasn’t you.”

“She wasn’t me?” Ashley repeated. “That’s all you’ve got? You fucked her because she wasn’t me and then you left her because she wasn’t me!”

“Jesus, you don’t get it yet, do you?” Spencer slapped her hand on the table. “Everything is because of you. My world is you. I am in love with you. I have been in love with you since I was sixteen fucking years old and, good or bad, all of the biggest decisions in my life have been driven by that single fact.”

“Well, you’ve got a screwed up way of showing it.”

“I know! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I kept trying to show you what I should have just told you. I didn’t know that you needed the words, Ashley, but I get that now.”

She shook her head. “Spencer, seriously, what the fuck are you talking about?”

* * *

Next up: Part 3: Spencer [AA]

10 Comments

  1. Tracy
    Posted 26 June 2013 at 4.29pm | Permalink

    Oh geez…I hate being left hanging like that …. come on… post soon!!!

  2. Ash
    Posted 26 June 2013 at 4.30pm | Permalink

    OMG I can’t believe you ended it like that! Post again!!! PLEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEEE this story is too good!

  3. Charlotte
    Posted 26 June 2013 at 5.57pm | Permalink

    This was totally great. I am really enjoying this story. But that was a totally evil place to leave it.

  4. Lyn
    Posted 26 June 2013 at 7.48pm | Permalink

    Oh Spence… Just get to the point already;). You were scared of your feelings and unsure of them since all you’ve ever known was Ashley. Tada, dasit. Nothing more, nothing less.
    Now post again soon, real soooooooon, cuz leaving us hanging like this is not nice, nope, not nice at all, teases!

  5. SONiluv
    Posted 26 June 2013 at 10.09pm | Permalink

    t t t t t t touch meeeee I wanna be dirtyyyy thrill me chill me fulfill me creature of the nighttt. :) …. I’m so excited to have quality new Spashley material to read! and 2 updates within a month apart! You’re spoiling me now …but I’m completely ok with that haha. annnnyways, I’m hooked as per usual can’t wait to see whats next for them. It’s interesting to have Spence be the one who strayed.

  6. Posted 27 June 2013 at 2.12am | Permalink

    Oh boy… I need to keep reading!
    Oh and is this really just AA? Man I can’t wait to see the NSFW parts in this then ;-)

  7. sam
    Posted 27 June 2013 at 12.42pm | Permalink

    sooooo awesooommmeeeeee!!!!!!!!! gaaaahhhh!! moooore!

  8. Duncan
    Posted 28 June 2013 at 2.14am | Permalink

    Seriously?!?!?! Cliffhanger much? Lol. Now u have to update soon cuz that’s not a place I can handle it being left at for long. Like 2 minutes max. I’ll be waiting.

  9. lol
    Posted 29 June 2013 at 1.30pm | Permalink

    I can’t believe you left the story hanging there >:( Gah, now I’ll have to wait for ages before you next update :(((

  10. Je t'aime
    Posted 7 July 2013 at 3.45pm | Permalink

    I seriously can’t put into words how much I love your writing and the sheer brilliance that it is. Just….thank you.

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