meet-up with the fiance

Isabella sat on the floor of her office for a long time after the message appeared.

Her thighs were sticky. Every small shift reminded her of what was still slowly leaking out of her. The taste of David still lingered faintly at the back of her throat. She stared at Daniel’s text until the screen dimmed, then forced herself to unlock it again.

She pushed herself up, locked the door, and went to the small mirror she kept in the bottom drawer. The damage was obvious. Mascara streaked down her cheeks. Her lips were swollen. A faint red mark from David’s fingers still showed on the side of one breast where the open blouse didn’t fully cover it. She wiped her face as best she could with tissues and water from the bottle on her desk, buttoned the blouse all the way up, and smoothed her skirt. The panties underneath were a lost cause. She left them on anyway.

Fifteen minutes later she walked into the small campus café. Daniel was already at a corner table. He stood when he saw her and smiled the same soft smile he always gave her.

“Hey. You okay? You look a little… tired.”

Isabella sat across from him and forced her mouth into something that resembled a normal expression.

“Just a long morning. Department meetings. Nothing interesting.”

Daniel reached across the table and briefly covered her hand with his. The engagement ring on her finger caught the light between them. She kept her other hand in her lap, fingers pressed tightly together so he wouldn’t notice them shaking.

They ordered. Daniel talked about his morning lecture and a student who had finally started participating. Isabella nodded at the right moments and gave short answers. Every time she shifted in the chair she felt the slow, warm trickle of David’s cum moving inside her. She kept her knees pressed together and hoped nothing showed.

At one point Daniel tilted his head.

“You’re quiet today.”

“Am I?”

“A little.” He smiled again, gentle. “Everything alright between us?”

The question sat in the middle of the table like something sharp.

Isabella met his eyes and lied.

“Everything’s fine. I just need more coffee.”

Daniel accepted the answer the way he always did — without pushing. He squeezed her hand once more, then let go and returned to his sandwich. Isabella stared at the plate in front of her and forced herself to take small bites she could barely taste.