The Affair: Cristiana's Story

by Aidèe Jaimes

  Bo climbs my body at the same time as he undoes his belt and pulls his jeans down over his waist. His shoulders push up on the backs of my knees, opening me to him even further, his cock bouncing off my wet core as he takes my nipples into his mouth.

  I’m mindless, overwhelmed by everything him, and I reach down between our bodies and take a hold of his thick length, pulling him into me because I can’t take this separation any longer. He kisses me as we come together again, and he’s instantly pounding into me, just as before, unable to control our mating.

  His shaft swells and I can feel it stretch me further, go in deeper as he pushes my legs back as far as they can go. I don’t know exactly when his climax hits, because I am so lost in my own that everything else around me disappears.

  When it’s over and I regain my senses, I find Bo’s head on my chest, his breathing ragged and his sweat mingling with my own. The scent of our sex is thick in the air, though how I can take in a breath with his weight on me is a wonder. Still, I wouldn’t change this. Better to die with the heavy feeling of his body on mine than not to feel him at all. I would die happy.

  He pulls out and I feel his semen pour out of me, but he doesn’t go far, simply shifting his weight to lie beside me.

  “I think we just ruined your couch,” I tell him.

  “Mm, who cares. I want to ruin all of my furniture with you.”

  He makes me chuckle, my boobs wiggling with the motion. Bo brings one fingertip to a nipple and circles it softly.

  “Bo, unless you’re ready to go for round two, you need to stop that.”

  He looks at me through long dark lashes, his blue-green eyes twinkling with that mischief that made me fall in love with him in the first place. “Or what, chère?”

  “Or I’ll have my way with you again.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. “You could have your way with me anytime, darlin’,” he says, rolling onto his back, forcing me to push up onto an elbow so that now it’s me looking down at him.

  I don’t mind it one bit. He’s a beautiful thing to see, naked and sated. The width of the couch can barely accommodate the breadth of his chest, and the length of him is too much and his legs hang over the armrest. Hard muscle is covered by soft skin and a matting of dark hair in just the right places.

  I’m not one to like an overly hairy man, but I do like hair on my men. Hair on his chest, forearms, and legs. There’s something so erotic about feeling the differences in our bodies when they are pressed together like this.

  “What happened here?” I ask, running my hand over a thick scar on his torso, then leaning over, lick the length of it. The muscles there flex as goosebumps form on his flesh. “I noticed it before, but I guess you kept me too busy to remember to ask.”

  He moans before he composes himself, but the enlarging of his penis tells me he liked it. “Ah, that one there happened when I was twelve. A neighbor of Old Nate’s gave us these two rusty bikes that were far too big for us. But we rode them anyway. One day we decide it’d be fun to build a ramp for stunts. Uncle Jim said we’d kill ourselves and wanted no part in it. So, us kids have to figure out how to build one out of the materials lying around the house.”

  “Oh no! And you didn’t build it correctly?”

  “It was built correctly all right. Perfect, in fact. We’d found a piece of plywood big enough, then took some blocks from a low wall that’d been falling for years. Yup, that ramp was a good one. Problem was our bikes weren’t. Ate shit the first time I went to perform my stunt. I somehow landed on the handle bar. It didn’t have a cover, just bare rusty steel. Scraped a good chunk out of my side there. Ended up in the hospital the next day.”

  “The next day!” I say horrified.

  “Yup. We were too scared to tell Uncle Jim of our incredible failure after he’d warned us that would happen. I tried not to let it bother me, but eventually I gave into the injury. Passed out at the dinner table.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t die from some infection.”

  “Meh, I’d had worse. See this one here?” He points to a nasty scar on his leg, about four inches long. “We were hidin’ up in the cypress one day when my momma came to take me back to New Orleans. Old Nate kept snickerin’ and when I went to cover his mouth I lost my balance and fell right into the roots.”

  “Ouch! Bo, that must have hurt!”

  “Not one bit. I think I was in shock.”

  “And this one?” I point to a thin line on his shoulder and kiss it gently.

  “That one is recent. Puggy scratched me and the damned thing scarred.”

  “Do you have any other scars I should know about?” My voice is lower now, huskier. “I want to kiss every mark on your body, make them all better.”

  The desire in his eyes matches my own, but then his face turns serious as he moves a strand of hair from my face. “I wish you would. Forever.”

  Feeling the pressure of the moment, I sit up. “Bo, it’s not that simple.”

  He sits up, too, resting his arms on his knees. He’s still wearing his shirt; his jeans and boxer briefs having been thrown clear across the room. “Do you love me?” he asks, getting to the heart of the matter.

  “Yes.” I look into his eyes so that he knows that what I say is true. “Bo, I love you.” It’s the first time I’ve told him, though I’ve acknowledged that fact myself already.

  “Then what is keeping you from me? You’ve had time. You know that I’m crazy for you. Why can’t we just…” he shakes his head as he searches for the right words. He runs his left hand over my hair and down my bare back. “I want us to be together.”

  I sigh, expelling the breath I’m perpetually holding in. “It’s not that simple,” I repeat. “When I say that I love you, I mean it. The thing is, I still love Owen, too. Not only is he the father of my child, but he’s someone I care deeply about.” I lift a hand up to stop him when he goes to deny what I’ve said. “It’s not a clean cut, Bo. He’s my husband. I have to try to fix it.”

  I don’t even mention Mia, because honestly she’s not a part of the equation. No matter what happens between Owen and I, she will always have two parents that adore her and will do anything to make sure she knows that.

  Bo’s head droops, and he looks sad and defeated. Instantly I regret my words, not because I didn’t mean them, but because I don’t like to see him hurt.

  “You may not believe this, but I do understand. Do you think I like chasing after a married woman? Because trust me, it’s not the way I planned to find the ONE. If it had been up to me, I would have met you years ago, before you met your husband. In the perfect world, everything would be different. But it’s not, and it wasn’t my choice to meet you when I did, just like it wasn’t my choice to love you.

  “You know that I’m willing to fight for what I want; I have even swallowed my pride when it comes to you. But it’s starting to feel like I’m beggin’, Cris. That’s not fair to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I never meant to do that to you.”

  “I think you should leave.” He stands and begins to collect my things. “I can appreciate what you said. If you change your mind, you let me know. But until then I think we should keep our distance. That goes both ways.”

  I take the clothes he hands me and start to dress in silence. When I’m done, I walk to him and put my hand to his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt.

  “I’m sorry, Bo. I shouldn’t have come, but I couldn’t help it.”

  “Well now we know,” he says pushing me towards the entrance and opening the door. He leans down as if though he’s going to kiss me, but when I raise my lips to his, he moves his mouth to my ear instead. “But know this, if you do change your mind, and you come to me and I’m still here, then we can be somethin’ great. But I’m not gonna wait for you, Cris. If I get another chance at love, I’m not gonna pass it up.”

  With that last bit that leaves me feeling as though I’ve just been punched in the gut, he close
s the door on me.

  36

  “Momma, want some?” Mia asks, offering me one of her sweet potato fries that she’d dipped in ketchup.

  “No, baby, thank you.” She frowns, but accepts my response. Now, I’m not one to normally turn down a fry, much less one smothered in ketchup. That saying “I love ketchup on my ketchup” certainly applies to Mia and me. The thing is I’ve had no appetite today. This damned heartburn is at its worst. I’ve already crammed about six anti-acid tablets, and it’s only lunchtime.

  We’re sitting on the playroom floor watching Super Why while she eats. Though I’m mostly here with the excuse of keeping her company, and because I’ve yet to get past the fear that she’ll choke on food if I walk away even though she’s already four, I actually like the show. Really, I’ve been watching it since she was a baby.

  So, we’re sitting here, enjoying ourselves, when there’s a sudden flutter in my chest. It’s such a strange sensation, as if though my heart literally did a flip inside my ribs, that I stand up and put my fingers up to my neck to feel for a pulse. My heart is pounding hard as can be, but other than the beat seems normal. Still, my mind starts running through all of my symptoms. Just the other day I saw a sign about how heart decease is a silent killer, and how women are more likely to ignore all of the warning signs.

  I’ve had heartburn. But has it truly been my stomach? What if this entire time it’s really been my heart? There’s also been that tightness in my chest and shortness of breath. I attributed it to allergies, having been prescribed an inhaler years ago to help with that. But this could be early signs of an impending cardiac arrest.

  There’s a sinking feeling in my gut as I begin to feel every one of those symptoms simultaneously and because I’m so focused on them, they intensify.

  Racing out to the kitchen where I’d left my phone, I yell back at Mia, “Stay here, baby, I’ll be right back!”

  I fly down the stairs, my heart practically in my throat as I see my life played out before me. Shaking hands make it hard to dial 9-1-1, but I get it done.

  “911, please state your emergency.”

  “I think I’m having a heart attack!” My head is spinning and I can hardly breathe.

  Mia comes down with a worried look on her little face. “Momma?” she asks with concern. Though at her age she can’t put two and two together, she knows something’s wrong.

  “It’s okay, love. Momma is calling for help because I don’t feel well,” I try to reassure her.

  “Ma’am,” the operator says, “What are your symptoms?” I tell her and give her my address. “Help is on the way. I hear you have a little one. Is there anyone who can take her?”

  “Yes, I’m going to call my neighbor right now.”

  “Okay, I’d like to keep you on the line until the ambulance arrives,” the operator tells me.

  “I’ll text her, then.”

  Me: Having a heart attack. Can you come take Mia?

  Two seconds later the other line on my phone starts going crazy, it’s her.

  Me: Can’t answer. On the phone with 911.

  Her: WTF!! I’m coming right over!

  True to her word, not a minute later she’s pounding on my door. I let her in, Daniel at her hip. She doesn’t care that I’m on the phone. “What is going on!” she practically screams at me angrily.

  Covering the mouthpiece on my phone, I say, “I think something’s wrong with me. I’m going to the hospital. Do you mind keeping Mia? I can call my dad to come get her, but I think he’ll freak out.” More than her, at least.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course.” She takes Mia and holds her and Daniel on her lap as she sits in one of my wingback chairs in the living room. The somber look on her face, her blue eyes glistening, makes her look like she’s already mourning me.

  The lights of the ambulance flash bright in the house as they pull up, and I grab my bag and tell the operator who lets me go. I give Mia a kiss, saying, “Momma loves you, I’ll be back quick.”

  They follow me to the door where the paramedics have just walked to with a gurney. It’s a little weird getting into it, since I pretty much get in myself. The two young men look at me like I may be making this up, or maybe it’s me that feels that way.

  The moment I think it, there’s a stab between my ribs and I grimace.

  No, there is definitely a lot of tightness in my chest, almost like I have someone sitting on it. This cannot be normal, I think. Even the oxygen mask they fit over my nose and mouth makes little difference in the way I feel.

  Jess walks behind us all the way to the truck, where they load me in and I wave bye. And just as they’re about to close the double doors, I pull the plastic thing off my face and yell out to her, “Call Owen!”

  I love having big breasts. It’s especially awesome when a male technician comes in to perform an EKG. As if though I don’t already feel incredibly vulnerable in my light blue gown and no clothes underneath, I am asked to wear the thing backwards and lie on my back.

  The tech, Oscar, comes into the room with a machine on wheels and stands next to me. “Okay, Mrs. Roberts, so what I’m going to do only takes about twenty seconds. You won’t feel a thing, no shock or anything,” he laughs though I’m not sure why. “People always think they’ll get electrocuted. Anyway, I’m going to stick these little pads to your arms, legs and some on your chest. Any questions?”

  “No.” My heart is racing, wondering what they’re going to find. A blocked artery? An enlarged heart?

  The bed is lifted at the same time as it’s flattened, and he practically brings me up to his face. I try very hard not to think about it when he opens up the flaps of my gown to expose my chest.

  A female nurse comes in and works on the laptop attached to the EKG, just as he goes to work on attaching the pads to the insides of my arms, then my chest, then he unceremoniously lifts my heavy left boob and starts to stick some under there, too. I want to groan. I want to cover myself. I want this shit to be over.

  Really, it’s over pretty fast. Oscar the tech covers me and goes to stand by the silent female nurse. They communicate so quietly I can’t make out what they’re saying at all, then he’s back, opening my gown once again, moving my boob like it’s just a piece of meat, and taking off the pads.

  I cover myself and sit up as soon as it’s over and he smiles at me. Guess he’s used to it.

  “Doctor Wade will be in shortly to go over the results with you.”

  When Oscar walks out, a brown head peaks in, and I’m so relieved to see it’s Owen I almost cry from it.

  “Can I come in?” he asks.

  “Owen!” I reach for him and he comes into my arms, squeezing me. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Jess texted me, but didn’t tell me what hospital you were in. Had to make a few calls, and even then, I was sent to the wrong floor.”

  He pulls away and I hold his cheek in my hand. “No, you weren’t late. They just finished the EKG.”

  His brows pull together in worry. “Have they said anything? Is there any indication that it is your heart?”

  “So far they’ve only listened to my chest and did the EKG. The cardiologist said that if that doesn’t show anything, she’ll do an MRI.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  I take a few deep breaths. “Well, not great. But better now that you’re here.”

  He smiles at me sadly, but doesn’t bring up any of our problems. Instead, he scoots me over and lays in the bed, putting his arm around me and bringing me close to him. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit, try to get some rest. I’ll be here to take you home.”

  To my great relief, Owen stays there the six hours it takes to get the EKG results back, which showed no signs of cardiac distress, and the MRI they did just to be sure, which also showed a perfectly normal heart and lungs. It’s strange that when we have this sort of thing happen, you almost want there to be something wrong, just so that you have an explanation. Instead, the lack of an answer leaves you f
eeling even more ill.

  When Doctor Wade comes in at the last hour and asks to speak with me privately, I tell her, “It’s okay, he’s my husband. He can hear whatever you have to say.”

  Now, at this point I’m expecting her to say that they’ve found something even worse than heart disease, but instead she says, “Have you considered talking with a therapist?” I suppose that could be worse.

  “Um,” I glance at Owen who is now sitting in one of the guest chairs to my right, over by the IV packs. “Are you saying I need a shrink?”

  “Mrs. Roberts, we have looked at many possibilities. I’m not saying that there isn’t something physically wrong, the body is a complex thing. What I am saying is that with your symptoms, there is also the possibility that you are experiencing anxiety.”

  “Like a panic attack?” God, even now knowing that this may all be in my head, I still can’t breathe right.

  “In a way. Have you been under an abnormal amount of stress?”

  I think hard. “Not really,” I say, though I’m not so sure that’s true. Usually I would associate large amounts of stress with financial problems. Even when Owen had his affair I didn’t have heart palpitations. Could this be because of everything that’s happened with Bo?

  Doctor Wade looks as convinced as I feel. “Sometimes, anxiety can feel like you’re having a heart attack, amongst other things. Lack of sleep, lack of appetite, indigestion, tightness in your chest and yes, even an irregular heartbeat.”

  Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. “I don’t know what’s worse, feeling like a hypochondriac or being told I may be crazy and need to see a head doctor.”

  “Anxiety doesn’t make you crazy, we all have it. And there is nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. As far as your heart, I would rather check a thousand possible cardiac events if that meant that more women would listen to their bodies. The heart is strong, but it’s also a fragile thing. You have to listen to it or you could lose your life.”

  I know she is talking about the physical heart, but for some reason when she tells me, I take the meaning differently. The heart is strong, but oh so fragile. And as I start putting two and two together, I begin to realize how true those words are.