Domesticity
She had no idea why any child in his right mind would choose to have his room painted purple. But then she had never understood the child. Never entirely understood why she went through with the pregnancy, not that she'd had any choice once Adam had known about it. She'd been grateful to accept her mother-in-law's help with the newborn and get back to Six as soon as she could.
Come to that, she had never entirely understood Adam, either. He was a mass of contradiction - unfailingly sweet and gentlemanly, but along with that, he had an idea of family life that harked back to the nineteen-fifties, and how Fiona had hung around with him long enough to get married and have a child (his insistence on marriage should have been a clue, it really should) she really didn't know.
Which was why B was a breath of very fresh, very welcome air.
Riff and B's house stunned her. It was huge and showy and completely impractical. She couldn't help but compare it to the eminently practical townhouse she now 'lived' in, and she loved the impracticality. She loved the way the glass tabletop made it look like B was cutting coke on her legs. She loved the way B looked at her, and the buzz she was getting from the coke, and that B was leaning forward and forward and kissing her.
B giggled as her hand slid under Fiona's waistband, and Fiona giggled back. The world was something to be laughed at, it was joyous and addictive and B knew how to work her fingers. Fi hadn't felt like this in months and years and B was laughing and guiding Fi's hand beneath B's loose kimono and God it had been a long time. She cupped B's breast and pushed the silk aside and lowered her mouth to B's skin, while B's fingers and thumb worked harder and stronger, making Fi gasp and moan and it wasn't just the coke that was altering her mind. Adam would be furious if he knew and somehow, the fact that he was just downstairs with Riff made the whole thing more exciting. If he came up the stairs at the wrong time maybe it would all be over, all be finished. With his terribly conservative view on like, he'd take Wesley away and Fi would be free. Her life in the service would be finished and at some other point in time she might care about that, but right now all she wanted was for B to push harder and faster and she bit on B's breasts in her eagerness.
'Oh, God,' said B. 'You're so.'
Fiona moaned and shuddered.
'Hot,' finished B.
'Your turn,' said Fiona, as she pushed B's kimono aside.
It was times like these that Fiona was grateful for her training. It would allow her to go back to Adam, to keep playing the fond mother as much as possible; put up with the oddities that made up the child when he came home from school to his garish purple bedroom in that ghastly townhouse Adam had insisted on buying. There were days when all Fiona wanted to do was sit down and watch The Stepford Wives, just to get hints on what her husband really wanted.
It wasn't going to last forever, this life. After all, the only place where people knew her real name was Damascus. She didn't belong where she was.