“I’m sorry, Sir, it may be an hour at least before the elevator is moving again. If you could please be patient, we …”

“I’m out of patience. Surely there’s something you can do.”

“I assure you, everything is happening as fast as it can.”

“Fine. Thank you.”

David ended the call with the operator and stood there leaning into the elevator wall, red faced and exasperated. Kathryn eyed David from the opposite corner, fury boiling just beneath the surface. After an hour of reviewing the terms of their divorce with a fine toothed comb Kathryn was well stocked with rage. She even hated the tie he was wearing. Spiteful asshole, he probably wore it on purpose. Jenny probably loved that garish tie. Poor Jenny, if she only knew what a piece of work she was about to marry.

“Well, I guess we’re stuck.”

“An hour is nothing after being stuck with you for a decade, David.” Kathryn’s tone was icy and she smirked as he glared at her. She’d hit a nerve. He looked her up and down, resentful of how her blouse hung so perfectly across her breasts, infuriated that he’d noticed that she was wearing Cuban stockings, his favourite, and that the seams running up her calves and disappearing beneath her skirt had held his attention since she’d walked into the lawyer’s office earlier.

“Believe me, Kathryn, you’ve been just as insufferable.”

“Insufferable, maybe. But I was faithful.”

She watched as he exhaled slowly, fingertips at his greying temples. She quickly dashed all thoughts of how handsome he still was, how strong his hands were.

“Are you trying to incite my temper?”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’re being childish, Kathryn. Smug isn’t a good look on you.”

“Well, neither is that tie.”

David laughed and threw his hands up in the air, pacing with frustration. He started to speak and cut it short, his knuckles to his lips, an exaggerated show of self restraint.

“You know what your problem is, Kathryn?”

Kathryn sighed and rolled her eyes, stepping out of her heels and setting down her handbag.

“Please, David, illuminate me. What is my problem?”

David paused, momentarily transfixed by the red polish on her toes, showing through her stockings.

“You hold onto everything. Even though you hate my guts and are so delighted to be taking me to the cleaners with this divorce, you can’t quite let go of the part of you that still wants me. If I meant nothing to you, you wouldn’t be so filled with anger and resentment.”

“Is that what Dr. Jenny told you? God, it must be so convenient to fuck your therapist. Tell me David, do you still pay her for those precious 50 minutes a week?”

David stepped forward fast, suddenly too close and Kathryn braced herself, jaw set firmly. He towered over her, close enough that she could smell his aftershave. Defiant, her gaze never left his.

“You, Kathryn, are the worst kind of woman; a classic shrew. I frittered away my 30s on you. I can’t wait until the ink dries on our divorce papers and I am rid of you, once and for all.”

David stared at her; a long, solemn look, swallowing as if his anger was a large pill taken without water. “You found a thousand small ways to push me away, Kathryn.”

“It’s my fault then? Is that what I’m supposed to believe? And you think after all this that I still want you? If anything, David, you’re the one with regrets. Regrets that you can’t have all of this.”

Kathryn pressed herself into David’s chest, indicating clearly what he was missing. David swallowed hard again catching a glimpse down her blouse as she tossed her hair haughtily.

“Just admit it, even though you hate me, even though you may have a perky new blonde bouncing on your dick you would fuck me again in a heartbeat if you had the chance.”

David sneered. “Is that so?”

“I believe it is.”

Without looking away or hesitating, Kathryn pressed her palm against David’s crotch. She grinned at him as they both silently acknowledged that he was already hard.

“You fucking freak,” she laughed, her thumb stroking him through his pants. “You’re so turned on by fighting with me! Too bad we never put that to good use.”

“I’m not, I’m just worked up …”

“You sure are. Imagine if I were to fumble with your belt … or your zipper?” Kathryn bit her lip and blinked at him coyly, watching David’s resolve crumble.

“This is a terrible idea …” He closed his eyes as she undid his pants and reached in and took him in her hand.

“Should I stop?” Kathryn’s question was a damp, husky whisper against his neck, lips almost touching the vein that throbbed beneath his ear. He shook his head ‘no’ and leaned into her, every cell in his body confused, drunk on the heady cocktail of anger and arousal. She touched him expertly, and in moments he was thrusting his cock into her fist, his hands against the wall behind her. His cock swelled as she whispered the sort of filthy things he’d always wished she’d say when they were married. He fucked her hand with abandon, staring into her grey eyes and biting into his own lip, determined not to finish too soon. She cooed and whispered until his body tensed and he gnashed his teeth. Then, without warning, the elevator lurched to life and the spell was broken. Gasping, David stepped back and shoved his aching hard-on into his pants as Kathryn slipped on her shoes and picked up her handbag. Moments later the door opened before them and they stepped into the polished lobby.


“Goodbye, David.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re just leaving?”

She didn’t turn, she didn’t wave. He watched her go, cold anger rushing through his veins again as Kathryn walked away from him for the last time, smiling to herself.

Violet Fawkes

Violet Fawkes (she/her) is a freelance writer and sex blogger focusing on pleasure education, erotic fiction, and the intersection of identity, kink and mental health.