Sliding Sideways - Sex Stories

Sliding Sideways

... stared at the ceiling, his naked body cuddled up close to Vivienne who was dozing peacefully. She was still here! Now was the first day of the rest of his life, he mused, reflecting on the threadbare observation, but in his case one that promised to be rather more literally true. He smiled appreciatively at Vivienne as her eyes opened and she gazed up at him through her long eyelashes. “Still here?” he asked with a smile. “Still here,” she replied, “but not for long. I’ve got to get to the office soon. It’s a working day.” “Are you going to work then?” wondered Quentin. “Well, of course. And you? Back to the City?” Quentin wasn’t sure how he should answer. He wasn’t very sure exactly where he worked. “We’ll see each other again, won’t we?” he asked hopefully. “I guess so, although my husband won’t like it, I’m sure.” “If, of course, it’s the same husband as yesterday…” Vivienne frowned. “You what?” “I mean, you don’t know who it might be today. It could be anyone.” “Could it?” asked Vivienne, genuinely puzzled and leaning towards him on her arm. “Indeed,” said Quentin, warming to the theme, “who knows what sort of world we’ve woken up in? For all we know, Elvis Presley might be dead, Jack Straw might be Prime Minister and there might be no Fox TV.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m just saying we don’t know how the universe might have changed since yesterday.” “What you on!” Vivienne exclaimed, with a nervous laugh. “I can’t imagine any of those things happening. Have you ...

... gone loopy?” “No,” laughed Quentin. “I was just speculating. You know, the two of us sliding sideways through space and time…” “‘Sliding sideways’? What kind of metaphysical rubbish is this? I’m not sure I do want to see you again if you spout stuff like that.” Quentin panicked slightly, but he relished having his arm around her. “Don’t you remember our conversation yesterday?” “I guess so. Mostly about your job in the City, the money you earn and how your wife doesn’t understand you. But, let’s be honest, will we, you’re not the first married man I’ve heard go on like that…” “No?” Quentin remarked. Was this the same Vivienne? Then he heard a slammed door. It was the one to his apartment. Who could this be? “Quentin, I’m home!” he heard a cheerful woman’s voice echo from the hallway. “They found an earlier flight from Washington after all. You’re not still in bed are you?” “What the fuck?” said Vivienne, echoing Quentin’s own thoughts. “You said your wife would no way be back.” The door to the bedroom opened and in the slow motion prelude to the drama that followed, in which he was the victim of a torrent of verbal abuse from both Vivienne and a woman he didn’t recognise, but was his wife of many years, he saw a neat figure silhouetted against the doorway. She wore a smart business suit, was slim but much the same age as Quentin, and her face was frozen in an expression of unfeigned horror and disgust. And no wonder, at the sight of her husband, naked and lying next to an ...