How easy it is, to fall into old tricks. Distraction. Sex. Samesies.

“This is all boring,” she replied, biting into his chest. He hissed and his hands flew into her hair.

“You don't want to do this,” he whispered. She chuckled and reached down between their bodies, rubbing her hand against his growing erection.

“Oh, I really want to do this.”

See? Truth that's close to a lie, or vice versa.

“God, you're so horrible to me,” he groaned, putting his hand over her own. Wrapping his fingers around hers, working her hand faster. She laughed and managed to slide her hand free, leaving him stroking himself.

“I've always been good to you, Jameson,” she whispered, kissing her way down his chest.

“So good,” he whispered in agreement. She pulled the sheet away from him, watched him for a minute, admired his body.

“Say it again,” she urged, tracing her tongue against his hip bone. His hand moved faster.

“You're so good to me, Tatum,” he groaned. She kissed her way to his thigh.

“Mmm, maybe you should say it one more time,” she suggested. Suddenly his free hand was in her hair.

“Maybe you need to shut the fuck up and get to work,” he swore, then forced her down on his dick.

Sex was not an option for her. Tate couldn't, it was too much, she always got all chatty and honest during sex. Hard to be chatty when her mouth was busy. So she worked him good, and when his hand pulled at her hair again, tried to drag her away, she refused to budge. Just sucked harder and licked more and took him deeper. She had him coming in record time, and she swallowed everything.

“Work, work, work, I'm like Cinderella around here,” she joked, kissing her way back up his chest.

“Goddamn, Tate, one of these days you're gonna give me a heart attack,” Jameson panted. She laughed and stretched out next to him, laying on her stomach.

“I keep trying,” she whispered.

“I'm not complaining,” he chuckled, pressing a hand to her back.

See? Distraction. Works every time.

Tate knew it wouldn't last long, though. She had a couple days, at best. Jameson needed sex to function. He became unbearable if he didn't get it regularly. That's why she hadn't believed him, when he had claimed to have gone all fall without sex. October to New Year's!? She had doubted it. And now she knew she had been right.

Fucker.

“Sandy,” she said the next afternoon, walking into the kitchen. Jameson was at his office, getting some paperwork he needed. Sanders glanced at her.

“Whatever it is, no,” he replied. She made a face.

“I haven't even asked you anything,” she pointed out.

“I know you. It's coming,” he said. She swallowed thickly.

“I need a ride. I can take the Jag, but you'll just have to pick it up, anyway,” she told him. He had been reading a newspaper, and he looked up at her.

“Why? Where are you going?” he asked. Tate smiled sadly at him, reached out and held his hand.

“It's time for me to go, Sandy,” she said softly. He stood up, dropping the newspaper and pulling away from her.

“No. You promised. You cannot let this, this ..., this woman, rip you apart. I have -,” Sanders started babbling, backing out of the kitchen. She went after him and grabbed back onto his hand.

“It's not just her, I swear. I mean, yeah, I don't want to live life waiting for the next time Pet fucks something up, but it's other things, too. Maybe ..., maybe I do want to get married someday, Sandy. Maybe I do want babies. Maybe I want to change the world, or maybe I want to live on a farm. Who knows? He won't compromise, for anything. He just is, he has made all this very clear, to all of us. And I just can't handle that,” she explained. Sanders began swaying from side to side, foot to foot.

“No, that's not true. None of that is true. You ..., you just won't see it. You won't listen to him. You're happy here. Why can't you just let yourself be happy?” Sanders insisted, staring over her head. She gripped onto his lapels.

“Because I can't. I just can't. Sanders, I bought a plane ticket. I am going,” Tate informed him.

His face cracked then. He wouldn't look at her, kept staring at the wall as his perfect features folded into agony. He was so good at hiding his emotions, that it was shocking to see such a transformation. He closed his eyes, lifted a hand to the side of his head, pulled at a lock of hair. She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her face to his chest.

“He's going to be so upset. You're going to hurt him so badly. Please, please, don't go,” Sanders begged.

“Come with me,” she whispered, holding onto him as tightly as possible. He started to shake, his swaying getting a little chaotic.

“No. I can't. I do love him, I am happy here. Please, Tatum. Please, don't go. You forgave him. You promised. Please,” he was crying. She started crying as well.

“You want me to stay? You want me to be unhappy? To always be questioning myself, questioning him? I'll do it. For you, Sanders, I would do it,” she told him.

He slowly stopped swaying. Took a couple deep breaths. Then his arms came around her, hugged her tightly. Crushed her to his chest. She felt his face against her head, pressing into her hair.

“I'll take you. I'll take you anywhere you want to go,” he whispered. She nodded.

“Thank you.”