The Affair: Cristiana's Story

by Aidèe Jaimes

  He lifts me and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, grinding myself on the hard length in his pants, and boy is it big! His hands are everywhere. The taste of blood and him mingle in my mouth, and even though it hurts, I don’t pull away.

  He never presses me against the wall, and I can only guess it’s because we’re in a public restroom, and who the hell knows what kind of nasty there is in here. Instead, his strong arms hold me up to him firmly, giving no hint at fatigue.

  If anything, he lifts me higher when his hands start to delve into the backside of my jeans, sliding in, between my butt cheeks and finding the very wet core of me. When a long finger slips inside, I finally break the kiss only to moan his name, my fingers digging into the back of his neck.

  In and out it goes, creating such a delicious friction I can hardly muffle my cries. In and out, and over my clit, until I explode, coming hard on his hand. When I stop shaking, he sets me down gently, taking his hand out of my pants. His eyes are heavy, and I note for the first time since he came in that his breathing is just as ragged as mine.

  With his eyes glued to mine and a cocky smile that says, “I can make you come with my little finger,” he takes said finger and licks it. My dry mouth drops open.

  “This thing between us, Cris, this isn’t something you can ignore and you know it. We’re gonna need to talk about this eventually.”

  Then, just as quickly as he came in, he leaves me there. No other words. He doesn’t need to say anything. I know the power he has over me. I’m screwed.

  It takes me a good five minutes to cool my skin down enough to leave the safety of the bathroom. With my head down, I slink out and try to make it past Jess, but her arm is longer than I thought, either that or she’s Elastigirl, and she catches me as I go by.

  “What they hell were you two doing in there?” she demands.

  “Wh- what. Nothing,” I laugh nervously and look anywhere but at her face.

  “Really? Because Bo jetted out of here like a bat out of hell. Looked like the damned devil was chasing him, he looked so frazzled.”

  “He did?” I ask. Good, it’s nice to know that when I’m not looking, he’s as vulnerable to me as I am to him. “Well I have no idea why.”

  Jess narrows her ice blue eyes at me. “You two fucked, didn’t you?” she asks accusingly.

  “Sh, the kids will hear,” I pull my arm out of her hand. “And we didn’t fuck,” I tell her, though I still don’t look her in the eye when I reply.

  “Look at me when you lie,” she commands. I do, but start laughing at how serious she looks. She gasps at my audacity. “You did!”

  “No we didn’t. I mean, fingering doesn’t count, does it?”

  “Gross! And in my sweater!” She pulls at the material of the gray cotton pullover with her middle finger like it’s dirty. “You are never wearing my clothes again!”

  I push her hand away. “Jess, the only reason I wear your clothes is because you insist on dressing me in them, like I’m your doll or something.” True story.

  She pats me on the head and I slap at her hand. “It’s cause you’re so small,” she mocks.

  “Or maybe you’re just that big.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Look, let’s not fight. I’m embarrassed enough as is. I’ll pay you back for this.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. Just keep it. And that red dress, too. Now that I think about it, if I stop giving you clothes, will you stop fucking Bo?” she asks with mock innocence.

  “Oh, hush!”

  “Well, definitely something to think about,” Jess says over her shoulder. She goes to gather all the kids, and like little soldiers, they snap to attention, even Mia, and do as they’re told. “I want to see five kids, here, in front of me in ten seconds. Snacks in hand…”

  Actually, before I know it I’m in line with the kids awaiting our next command, and as we all march out to our cars, I look back at the bathroom where I didn’t just have sex with Bo. I remember every detail of our encounter, just like every other time I’ve been with him. But just like every other time I’ve been with him, I file it away in the deepest recesses of my mind. It cannot be.

  Wiping at my watery eye, I look away and leave.

  32

  Keeping my encounter at the park from Owen is a no brainer. As it is, things are finally at that stage where we can have a conversation, have a meal together with Mia. It’s no longer torture. Besides, I don’t think I owe this one to Owen. He’s still my husband, yes, and I am still trying to make up for my previous transgression. But this time it’s different.

  Owen and I haven’t had sex in weeks, since before he left for Raleigh. Come to think of it, Bo is the last man I’ve had sex with.

  Yeah, I’m definitely keeping this one to myself.

  And come Monday night, when we’ve put Mia to bed and I say goodnight, and he says, “Wait, can we talk for a minute downstairs?” I am especially grateful for the decision to keep the secret.

  In the kitchen, Owen pours himself a vodka tonic and makes me a bay breeze as I sit at the counter watching him. “Is it that bad that we need liquid courage?”

  He grins at me. “Well, not bad. But I definitely need the courage.”

  We toast to nothing, and I take a sip while he downs almost the entire glass in one gulp.

  “So, you know I’ve been seeing Dr. Riker,” he starts.

  “No,” I say shaking my head. “I had no idea you still were.”

  “Well, after everything that happened, I needed someone to talk to. There were just too many thoughts in my head that needed to be sorted through.”

  Looking at my pink drink, I tap on the glass with a fingernail. I don’t know how I feel about Owen seeing Dr. Riker again. Even though I’d suggested it recently, I assumed we’d be going together, and I’d have chosen someone else. “Has she helped?”

  “She has. Right after, you know… your thing,” he says and I shift a little in my bar stool, “I could only see things one way. There was only me and my feelings. She helped me see a bigger picture, as well as other possibilities.”

  “What possibilities do you see?”

  Taking in the rest of his drink, he sets the tumbler on the counter and faces me. “I know you love me, Cris. Though I’m still not exactly sure how this other guy has come into the picture again, I don’t think you’re seeking him out actively.”

  “I’m not,” I admit.

  “And while I do think he’s something to you, and that hurts like a mother fucker, the positive in that is that I don’t think there will be anyone else you would cheat on me with.”

  “I won’t cheat with anyone!”

  He presses his eyes like he’s digging into himself for patience. “I want to trust you, I really do. But it’s going to take time. You are going to always have to be honest with me.”

  “Of course.”

  “Is this man something that I have to worry about on a daily basis? I mean, he doesn’t live down the street or anything like that, does he?”

  I dumbly shake my head, not having expected to be asked about where Bo lives. “No, no. He doesn’t live around here,” I say, my heart wild because it’s only mostly true.

  He nods once. “Let’s take things slow. We get along so well as it is. Let’s go on being friends. Maybe go on a date, see where it leads. But if I feel like it’s going too fast for me, I am going to slow us down. And I’m still going to stay in the guestroom. I don’t think sex is something we should get into until we figure out our emotions.”

  “Okay, yeah, that sounds great to me.”

  “All right,” he says smiling. “I’m going up to bed. We’ll talk more.”

  “That’ll be great.”

  He leans in for a kiss, and I pucker up, but he moves to my cheek instead. I smile at him a little embarrassed, hoping he didn’t notice my mistake, but when he pats me on the shoulder, I realize he had. He leaves me then, with only my drink for company.

  The minute I hear his door cl
ose I get up and twirl in the kitchen. He’s giving me another chance. We’re going to take it slow, do it right. And I for one am going to do everything in my power not to screw this up. As long as I steer away from Bo, my marriage might actually survive.

  Eleven o’clock can’t come fast enough. It’s just one of those days where every minute, every second, drags on for an eternity. And it’s not because the day is slow. Definitely anything but that. Even for a Friday it’s been extremely busy. Maybe that’s why I need the break. Counting money for two hours straight has smudged my fingers black and made them ache.

  Putting up the sign that says “Next Teller Please,” I clock out on my computer and start my fifteen-minute respite. Normally I would head to the break room or use the restroom, but just as I’m heading that way my boss stops me.

  “There’s some dude waiting to talk to you? Said he’d wait for you outside in a black truck.”

  “Who?” I say, immediately assuming it’s Owen. It would fit, being that we met in a similar setting to this. “Oh, you know what, it’s my husband. I’ll be back in fifteen,” I tell him and walk outside, looking for Owen’s black Silverado, only to find a black Ford Raptor instead.

  My heart finds its way into my throat as I realize who’s actually here to see me. Dear lord, Bo is here. Taking those steps towards him are nearly impossible as my nerves take over all of my motor functions.

  When I reach the passenger side window, I rap on the tinted glass and open the door.

  “Hey, I say.”

  “Get in, chère. We need to talk.”

  “Um…” I look around wondering if anyone is watching me. “Bo, I have to get back to work in a few minutes. This isn’t the place or the time.”

  His eyes are impatient as he grips the steering wheel so hard I can see his knuckles turn white. “Well then tell me when the hell is a good time.” He’s not yelling, but I can tell it’s taking a lot of self-control not to. “What we have to say won’t take that long. Get in.”

  This damned thing in my chest is pounding so hard I feel like I may faint. After whatever conversation we have, I know I’m going to find it near impossible to go back to work. But even then, I comply, getting in the truck and closing the heavy door behind me.

  “Cris, I need an answer.”

  “An answer to what?” I ask.

  “Who are you going to choose?”

  “Bo,” I look at him in disbelief. “I gave you an answer from the start. Owen is my husband. I have to try to make it work.”

  “Why? Because you feel that’s what you’re supposed to do, or because it’s what your heart is tellin’ you. Because, darlin’, my heart is telling me that we belong together.”

  “Please… Please don’t,” I beg, covering my face with my hands. His large warm hand on my thigh brings my attention to it. I want to swap it away because it burns when he touches my skin, and at the same time, I want to move it higher. My core aches for his touch.

  He reads it all over my face, of that I’m sure, and he takes advantage. His hand slowly makes its way up under my skirt, until his fingers lightly touch me there. I cover his hand with mine, holding it there, applying more pressure.

  Licking my lips and closing my eyes, I moan and let my head drop back to the seat, grateful for the overly darkened windows that block us from view.

  His face comes near my ear and he places a kiss there, then he says hoarsely, “Cris, we belong together. You know it just as I do.” He pushes my panties aside and slips a finger in. “This isn’t the only thing that connects us. Our souls are connected. We’re a part of each other. If we continue to deny it, it’s going to tear us to shreds. Please, come to me. I need you.” This last is said in a whisper as he pulls out.

  I turn to him and our eyes connect, our souls. His words make me ache too much, confuse me and overwhelm me.

  Unable to bare his heat, I move as far away from him as I can within the cabin. There is hurt in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything about it, simply reaches out to touch me.

  It’s too much! I can’t handle it any longer. Knowing I would cave because his very presence addles my brain, I slap at his hand and scream at him. “Stop it! Do you know what you’re doing to me? I’m trying to save my marriage, but you’re always there, on me!” I cry, grabbing the fabric of my pink satin blouse and pulling it away from my skin in anger. “And you’re inside me!” I dig my nails into my scalp. It hurts, but the pain there barely registers as I continue my tirade. “Do you not see? I am in agony!”

  Bo lunges for me, terror in his eyes at what he is seeing. I’m going crazy, this constant push to choose. Again, and again I am forced to choose, and every time it gets that much harder.

  He holds me, his arms a tight vise around my shoulders. “Cris, shit, I’m sorry. I never meant to make you feel like this.”

  Breaking free of him I push away. “Please, Bo, leave me be. Let me go. I can’t be the reason my marriage fails. Please break this hold you have on me.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” he says truthfully. “It’s like asking me not to breathe.”

  “Owen is my husband. I love him.”

  “Do you love me?” he asks.

  He knows the answer to that. But it doesn’t matter. I have made up my mind to save my marriage. For my family. For Mia. I will not repeat the sins of my mother.

  “Bo, you need to leave me alone. Let me forget.”

  He says nothing to that, simply watches me, searching. Giving him nothing more than a cold stare, I leave the truck and slam the door behind me, breathing hard.

  I have to forget. I have to forget. Please let me forget…

  33

  Aime’s Sandwich Shop is a new little café not far from where we live. The food here is top notch, clean, and creative. I’ve been here a few times, and I love that I can really indulge without feeling completely gross. Being that this is basically a date for Owen and I, that is exactly what I’m going for.

  We get there about two o’clock, just thirty minutes before the place closes since they only serve lunch. In my mind, I think by this time of day it should be pretty empty, most of the crowds having cleared.

  Well, I was definitely wrong. Not only is the tiny restaurant still full to capacity, but people just keep coming.

  “I guess we all had the same idea,” I tell Owen.

  “Must be good,” he says.

  We stand somewhat smooshed within a large crowd outside, waiting for a table to be cleared for us inside. I glance at him occasionally and he smiles when he catches me. “What?” he asks.

  “Nothing. I mean, you look really handsome.”

  And he does, with his green button shirt up that brings out the color in his eyes, and khaki shorts. His hair has grown just a little, but enough that the gray is more visible, which is a huge turn on for me. There is also a little scruff on his cheeks, just the way I like it, and I wonder if there is a reason he let it grow.

  As for myself, I did dress to impress him. A white racerback shirt that contrasts against my tanned skin, tight blue jeans and my trusty black wedges. I hope he likes the way everything forms to my body. It’s super casual, yet sexy. I wanted it to look like I didn’t try, even though it took me over an hour to figure out my outfit. Given the heat in his eyes as they travel from the cleavage accentuated by the décolletage of my shirt, to the curve of my waist and the rounding of my hips, I’d say it worked.

  Even though I’ve been married to the man for years, I’m nervous. We’re starting over. It will be in a sense, a new relationship, and I want to start off on the right foot.

  He must feel the tension coming from me because he takes my hand and brings it to him, rolling it over to kiss the inside of my wrist. His lips are warm on the soft skin there, and my heart not only skips a beat, but I melt just a little from the sweetness of it.

  “You look beautiful, as always,” he says and I smile in response.

  “Roberts!” a girl dressed all in black - black shirt, black pa
nts and a black apron - comes out with two menus in her hands calling our names.

  “That’s us!” Owen raises his hand and follows her in, never letting go of me.

  Being a couple again like this makes me feel almost giddy. How desperately I’ve wanted him to forgive me, to give us another chance. And now here we are on a date.

  We’re led to a booth all the way in the back. The girl places two red faux leather menus on the wooden table, and says, “Veronica will be your server today. She’ll be with you shortly to take your drinks.”

  We both thank her and open our menus.

  “I’m starving!” Owen says. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything, as you can tell by the crowd. I wonder if they will start turning people away soon. They close in less than half an hour now.” I look at my watch and confirm what I’m saying.

  “So you come here that much?”

  “I’ve been twice, but Jess comes often and usually brings me home a little something. One of the girls at work comes here a lot, too.”

  Looking at one side of the menu, then the other, he seems overwhelmed by the amount of selections. “Well, what do you recommend?”

  “Mm,” I scroll down all of the options with my index finger until I come to the hot sandwich section. “The grilled turkey. That’s what I’m going to get. But I’ve also had the jerk tuna and that was so good, too.”

  “Well, then why don’t you get the turkey, I get the tuna, and we share,” he suggests.

  “Perfect.”

  After we place our orders, Owen and I sit and chat about our everyday happenings. Even though we still technically live together, in the same house, we are leading separate lives. We don’t talk at dinner like we used to, if we have dinner together at all. We’ve missed so much of each other’s lives.

  I tell him about my possible training to become a loan officer, which would be a huge increase in pay, but of course would also mean an increase in hours and the concerns that brings. He tells me about the progress they’ve made in hitting their monthly quotes, and a young man named Matthew that he just hired.