The Affair: Cristiana's Story

by Aidèe Jaimes

  Cris’s head turns to us, and even through the deep tan of her skin, I can see the red that crawls up her neck and into her cheeks. I should feel awful about making someone nervous. But when I see how it looks on Cris, it only makes her more appealing to me.

  I slap Dan’s knee, “Hey there, Dan. Gonna join us at some point?”

  He dazedly smiles up at me. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  Dawn picks up Puggy as we sit in the only space available, which, to my misfortune, is behind Cris. I hate that I can’t see her. That I can’t try to read her thoughts. Still, I can tell they’re about me from her body language. The way her head moves just enough so that her ear is pointing my way. The fidgety way she plays with the hem of her skirt.

  Smiling, my mother reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Thank you for such a wonderful party, Boey!”

  “You like it, Momma?”

  “Oh, yes, and your stew was to die for!”

  “Wasn’t it though?” Dawn asks.

  My mother’s lips straighten, but she stops herself from replying. “Bo, baby, you gonna be able to watch Puggy for me next weekend?”

  “Yes, just remember I have the kids, so I’ll have to bring her here.”

  “I can watch her!” Dawn interjects.

  “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” my mother says, shaking her head vehemently, and reaches over to reclaim her mutt.

  “It’s no bother at all! I’d love to help. Besides, we’re family!”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at my mom’s expression of horror.

  Suddenly, I hear, “So you two are siblings?” coming from the floor.

  We all turn to Cris as she appears to be comparing Dawn and me, searching for similarities.

  Her assumption has me outright laughing. Dawn’s audible intake of breath has me laughing harder.

  “We’re dating,” Dawn snarls at Cris.

  Cris shrinks a little when she realizes her mistake. That, coupled with the disappointment I see in her eyes, stops my laughter. I don’t find it funny in the least. If anything, I want to get down on the floor with her and smooth away the lines that have formed between her brows.

  I’m ready for this day to be over.

  “Momma, I gotta take Dawn home. She has to get her kids from their dad’s. But I’ll see you in a bit. I love you.” I go to her, leaning down to give her a kiss. Puggy growls at me, and I back away. “Whoa, dog. What happened to us being friends?”

  “All right, Boey. Be careful.”

  Cris looks up as I push Dawn out, but we say nothing.

  “That was a nice party,” Dawn says when we step into the truck. “Bo, didn’t you want to pack some clothes?”

  “For what?”

  “For tomorrow, silly.” She laughs. “Unless you plan on wearing the same thing.”

  “Dawn, I’m not staying the night. My parents will be sleeping at my house, and I’d like to spend more time with them.”

  “Oh. Then should I bring back some clothes?”

  “Aren’t you expecting your kids?”

  “I can always ask their father to keep them the rest of the weekend.” She waves it away as if it’s nothing. Dear Lord, Laura has never given up her time with the kids.

  As I gaze through the window, I see very few cars still here, one of them being Cris’s Civic. Something inside me tells me that this will be the last time I ever see her. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell Dawn.

  Her face lights up. “You getting clothes?”

  “No, chère. I need to take care of somethin’. Then you and I need to talk.”

  I race inside. When I open the door that leads from the garage into the house, she’s the first thing I see. She smiles at me, and when she tries to move away, I automatically reach out.

  “Cristiana.”

  “Yes?”

  She turns to me, her honeyed eyes locking with mine for the first time all day. In those eyes, I read everything she’s feeling. She’s as intensely attracted to me as I am to her. It’s the sort of pull that makes you ache to touch and miserable because you can’t. Or, at least, you shouldn’t.

  “Thanks for coming. It meant a lot to my mom to have her girls here.” And to me.

  “Yes, of course. We love your mom.”

  I nod. My eyes never leave hers. I’m searching for something to say, something that will keep this from being the last time we speak. But nothing comes to mind. Instead, all I say is, “Okay, I have to go. Thanks again.”

  Of its own accord, probably because it senses my brain isn’t going to get it done, my body leans in and pulls her to me. I hug her tightly as, for the first time, I feel her against me. Her arms circle my shoulders, and she trembles slightly while she squeezes.

  My face is in her neck, and I make it my mission to take in everything that I can about her so that tonight, I can replay it in my mind, again and again. The way she smells, the way her soft hair tickles my nose. The way her frame fits so perfectly in my arms. It’s better than the dream. So much better.

  She was made for me, and I don’t want to let her go.

  But I have to. Because she’s not mine and this is fucking hell.

  The battle between my brain and my body ends when I push her away. I burst through the door, leaving without another word.

  45

  The aluminum bleachers might as well be ice against my ass it’s so damned cold. Laura and Sammy are pressed tightly against me, and their foggy breath mingles with mine as we exhale the slight warmth we possess. My balls have disappeared somewhere inside my body, and good for them. Otherwise, Sammy would definitely be my last kid.

  We put up with this because JB likes soccer. It’s his thing. That’s all Laura and I want for him. To have a passion for something.

  “Here, baby,” I say to Sammy, lifting her small body and sitting her on my lap. “You’ll be able to see better this way.” And you’ll keep my legs warm.

  “Go, JB!” Laura points at our son, who’s goalkeeper, as she watches him through the binoculars I gave her last Christmas.

  I look out onto the field proudly when he stops a goal. He’s breathing hard, wiping his brow. Unlike us, he’s able to maintain blood flow on this unseasonably cold forty-eight degree day.

  The game is paused, the players huddle with their coach, and substitutions are made.

  “Aww, I want to see JB again,” Sammy whines.

  “Don’t worry, love. He’ll be back after a few plays. They all need a chance to get practice,” Laura reassures her.

  From somewhere in my jacket, my phone vibrates, alerting me to a Facebook message. I pull it out and read.

  Cris (Garcia) Roberts: Hi. I don’t know if you remember me. I’m your mom’s neighbor, Cristiana.

  My breathing stops as I read the name. It’s been weeks since I last saw her. Or heard from her. My mother refuses to even utter her name. I’d finally given into the idea that perhaps I’d never see her again. Until now.

  Me: Of course I remember you. Cristiana Roberts. With the little blue-eyed girl.

  The one I can’t get out of my mind.

  Her: Yes, that’s me.

  Me: What can I do for you? Is everything okay with my parents?

  Though I’d hope she’s reaching out to me because of me, I can’t forget the fact that my folks are older. The most reasonable explanation is that she’s contacting me because of a problem.

  Her: Yes, everything’s okay. Hope I didn’t worry you.

  Me: Good. Is there something I can help you with?

  There’s a short pause before she replies.

  Her: Due to somewhat recent events in my marriage, I have acquired a ticket. I want to use it with you.

  Me: A ticket?

  Her: A ticket. For one night in bed with another man. I want to redeem it with you.

  Her words hit me like a fucking mallet. The world suddenly disappears and every ounce of my blood heats t
o near boiling point. I stand, dumping Sammy onto the man in front of me, and Laura, who was leaning against my side, falls to the bench.

  “What the hell!” Laura exclaims, grabbing Sammy from the man’s shoulders. “Sorry, sir.”

  The man, a father who’s probably used to having kids jump on him all day long, laughs it off, waving the offense away.

  “Sorry, chérie. You all right?” I search Sammy for injuries.

  She pouts, and I can tell her feelings are hurt when she makes no attempt to return to me. It’s probably for the best. After reading what Cris just sent me, I don’t want my daughter on my lap.

  “Are you okay?” Laura asks.

  “Yeah, I just got a charley horse.”

  “Ooh. Sorry.”

  “It’s better now.”

  Laura keeps her distance too, probably afraid I’ll do it again. I take advantage of the personal space to re-read the message. To make sure I didn’t misunderstand. Put meaning to words that I’ve wanted to see. But no, it’s not a mistake. Cris is, in fact, propositioning me.

  I take my jacket off, the cool weather suddenly not cold enough. My ex-wife and child gladly take it from me.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Laura asks, a slight frown between her brows.

  “Yeah. Just… I need to get some fresh air.”

  “Fresh air?” she asks, confused.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I make my way off the bleachers, ignoring the complaints from the parents whose feet I step on. By the time I sneak under the metal frame, sweat’s dripping down my back. But it’s not from the effort it took to push past everyone. It’s from the images that flood my mind, dreams of Cris I’ve stored as memories, even though they weren’t real.

  Her beneath me, naked, writhing. Me buried inside her, seeking release for the ache that’s plagued me since the day I first saw her.

  And now she’s offering me exactly that. The real deal, not something made up in my mind.

  My hands shake as I pull up the message again. I’m desperate to reply, to tell her, “Fuck yes! When? Now?” But the moment my fingers make contact with the screen, someone touches me from behind.

  “Bo, JB’s up again. I gotta take Sammy to the bathroom.” Laura’s holding our daughter’s hand in hers.

  “Okay. I’ll head right up.” I doubt that JB will spare a second to see if we’re watching, but we’ve made it a point to make sure at least one of us is cheering him on from the stands at all times. Putting my phone away, I go back to my seat, pausing the game Cris and I are about to play.

  46

  I take too long. Damn me. It’s not indecision that makes me hesitate every time I write a response to Cris’s offer. It’s that I don’t know how to word it. Somehow, “When? Right now? I’m ready if you are!” sounds a little too desperate. While, “Sure, whatever,” is too aloof.

  That night, I dream of her. Soft naked skin on my tongue as I run it up her leg, over her thigh, and farther still to her belly and breasts. She moans my name, digs her fingers through my hair, and tugs me to her. Our lips clash, and time and again, I taste her. Even when I realize it’s a dream, I know she’ll taste just like that. Only better.

  As our mouths press together, she opens her legs to me. Then I push myself inside, feeling her tightness around my shaft.

  She pulls away just long enough to murmur, “Bo,” before she brings me down to her once again.

  What starts out as tender quickly turns into something more. It’s something heated, aggressive, out of control. Nails scrape painfully on my ass as I pound into her. The headboard bounces against the wall with each thrust, and I fear it might be too much for her. But when she begs for more, when she draws her legs farther back, I can tell she needs it as much as I do.

  I wake up with a pounding heart, sweat covered skin, and a boner in need of relief. Only, relief doesn’t come. All night, I relive the dream, having Cris in my arms one second, and the next, I hold nothing but a cold sheet.

  Then life happens, I have to go to work, have to pick up the kids from school. By the time homework’s done and the kids are in bed, I’m exhausted. I lie there with the intention of messaging her, but the lack of sleep from the night before has me out before I can type a single word.

  So now, here I am, waiting for her reply to the message I sent this morning, checking my phone every five minutes like a damn teenager.

  Me: I’m sorry I didn’t answer you sooner. You left me in shock. I was at my son’s soccer game and had quite a few people sitting around me when the message came in. It didn’t seem like the place to discuss a ticket. The answer is yes.

  It’s after noon by the time she finally decides to message me. She sends me her phone number. I send her mine and she immediately replies.

  Thankfully, this time I’m alone.

  Her: Hi.

  Me: Hi. So tell me about this ticket.

  Her: I can be with anyone I choose. One night.

  Me: How did you get it? Why would your husband agree to that?

  Her: Why do you think?

  It’s not hard to guess why. He cheated. He doesn’t want to lose her, so he offered the only thing he can. A chance for her to get even. I can’t say I’d do the same. Can’t say that I wouldn’t. I’ve never cheated on anyone, but I know relationships are complicated at best.

  Me: Why me?

  Her: I want you. I did from the moment I saw you.

  I’d guessed she was attracted to me. Hoped. But to read the words confirming it…

  Me: Why didn’t you say something before? Would have been nice to know you were attracted to me.

  Her: I didn’t have a ticket then.

  Me: So you’ve wanted me since you met me?

  My lips quirk up.

  Her: I don’t think this is coming as a surprise to you. You knew how I felt. As a matter of fact, I think you went a little out of your way to make me uncomfortable because of it.

  Me: What can I say? I like you too.

  Her: You’re okay with being with a married woman?

  Me: That’s a loaded question. I’m not sure how to answer it.

  Her: Try.

  The truth is that I’m not okay with being with a married woman. I’m not okay with her being married. But sometimes life deals you cards at the wrong time. You still have to play to win. I should have met Cris a long time ago, before Laura. Before her husband. Then again, maybe the appeal of the forbidden makes for a much more interesting beginning.

  Me: I’m okay with being with you.

  Her: Have you ever been with a married woman?

  Me: Does that matter?

  Her: No, I guess not.

  Me: So what are the rules? Where? When?

  Her: First rule is pretty obvious. No one needs to know. Not your friends and definitely not your parents.

  Me: Obviously.

  I’d get a good smack upside the head if my mother found out.

  Her: Second is that this won’t go past one night. Our history won’t matter and neither will our future. That night will never have happened. And absolutely no emotions. You’re already going to be in my pants. You don’t need to try to get into my heart too.

  Me: So you just want me for my body.

  Her: Yes. We need to get blood work. I’m on birth control, but I want us both to go in knowing we’re clean. Have all our bases covered.

  Me: Condoms?

  Her: Of course. Bases covered, like I said. I can bring some, but I’d rather you did.

  Me: I’m getting hard.

  I admit it, glancing at the bulge between my legs. Lying back, I stretch out fully on my couch and unbutton my pants. I’d like nothing more than to stroke myself with the image of Cris naked in my mind and her sultry voice in my ear to help me finish. But I’d rather talk to her.

  Her: Do you need a minute?

  Me: No, just a little difficult to type with one hand.

  I stroke my cock once, wishing it was her hand instead.

  Her:
Lol! Yeah, me too.

  Me: I have a feeling we’re going to have a lot of fun in that one night. You sure you don’t want to make it two?

  A few minutes of silence gives me my answer.

  Me: Ok, so your lack of response tells me that’s a no. Where? When?

  Her: New Orleans. Three weeks. You need to get yourself there and have your own room.

  Me: Done and done.

  47

  CLT-MSY.

  I stare at my plane ticket as though it means more than merely passage to another town.

  Everything’s set up. My friend, Lionel, and his husband, Charles, will be out of town and are happy to lend me their place for a night or two. After that, I’ll be heading to Bayou Teche, Bonheur to stay with my cousin, Nate, and his wife, Jane.

  Cris said we’ll only have one day and one night. Then it’ll be over. So over that it’ll be as if it never happened. Or, at least, that’s what she wants to believe. But I know that after we’re together, there’s no way we’ll be able to forget.

  As I pack the last of my toiletries into a black leather bag, I wonder how exactly we’ll get things started. Will it be sudden and explosive, coming together the moment we’re alone in a room? Or will we waste precious time with pleasantries while we get a hold of our nerves?

  I hope it’s a mix. I’d like to get to know more about her than just the way she looks when she comes. She said I didn’t need to go beyond getting in her pants. But I can’t help wanting to.

  I don’t like the idea of leaving my truck in the airport parking garage. And I can’t ask my parents to drop me off, because they have no idea I’m going. Not that Dan would give a shit, but something tells me my mother would sniff out the reason for my trip and I’d never hear the end of it. So I take a cab, which gives me the extra time I need to think, to plan.

  Cris could always come with me to Bonheur. Jane would love her. I just have to think of a way to get her there. Sure, it would go beyond the one night she wants. But what about what I want?

  “Thanks, bud,” I say to the cabbie, handing him a tip when he drops me off at the curb.

  I search the faces of the travelers hurrying to get out of their vehicles and lugging heavy bags. None of them are the one I seek.