I sat on one of the armchairs in the room, fiddling with the earrings. I thought about my encounter with THE BOY. Why had I jeopardised everything with HIM just so I could see THE BOY? And why had I treated THE BOY so badly?
I felt like I was losing my mind.
Both men were great. Both of them were wrong for me. I wasn’t cut out to be a mistress, yet that was exactly what HIM was trying to mould me into. And with THE BOY, I wasn’t ready to take on a much younger man. I needed to start over. I needed to find someone right for me.
But then HIM reentered the room and I was overwhelmed again by my desire for HIM. I was amazed at his hold on me. He came to the armchair and I fell to my knees.
I unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. He let his pants drop around his ankles and I took his cock into my mouth. He deep-throated me, driving his cock into my mouth until I began to gag. He let me recover for a moment then thrust it again all the way down my throat. He held it there. My body tingled with desire. He took his cock out of my mouth and rubbed it all over my face.
‘You love this, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’
He began masturbating in front of me, never once taking his eyes off my open mouth. I watched as a wad of come burst out of his cock. I opened my mouth further, taking all of his offering. He fell to the floor and grasped me round my knees. I rested my hands on his head.
I couldn’t believe I’d had oral sex with two men in one day.
A little later we got up and fiddled with our clothing so we’d look presentable.
‘Are you ready for dinner?’ he asked.
I nodded.
We headed toward the restaurant. It was at the top of a high-rise. The entire city twinkled below us.
During the meal he told me he couldn’t spend the night.
‘My kids and I are off to Utah for skiing tomorrow morning. We have an early flight.’
I looked crestfallen.
‘Hey,’ he said, taking my chin in his hand. ‘Let’s enjoy the evening. I’m going to go back to the hotel with you for at least a while. You can stay at the hotel tonight. I plan to make love to you before I drive home.’
‘OK,’ I replied meekly.
‘Listen. You have to understand. I love the way it’s been with us the last couple of months. It’s gotten better and better.’
‘You’re right.’ I attempted to sound cheerful.
We ate the meal in companionable silence, every now and then smiling at one another.
Later, in the hotel room, he was merciless. He fucked me over and over. And then, when I thought I couldn’t take it any more, he fucked me again. My ass and pussy were sore. It nearly made my heart stop.
28
Christmas without HIM
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, ‘To a Skylark’
I woke up in the hotel on Christmas morning feeling as if the world had stopped. He’d left without waking me. I hated that he was gone. It was Christmas Day. CHRISTMAS DAY. How could he leave without wishing me a merry Christmas? How could he not be with me? Where was he? I touched the diamond earrings. I wanted to rip them off. I loved the high of being with HIM. I hated the low when he was nowhere in sight. I wished he’d awakened me. I felt bereft without HIM. I was sure he’d be out of touch through the rest of the holidays. How could I survive it?
I felt so completely alone. He was gone. My mother had died. There was no one else. No one. There was something interchangeable about his absence and my mother’s death. Even Sam had made the connection.
So could this aching loneliness have more to do with my mother’s death than I thought? Was it possible that I’d held my breath for the last four years thinking I’d be OK? But really, who else was there to hold me up? Rebecca and Sam did their part but it had been my mother I ultimately relied on. When she itched, I scratched. When she was happy, I grinned. When she was sad, I was tearful. When she got sick and died, a part of me died with her. And, although my connection with HIM was primarily sexual, there must have been some primal emotion that was being triggered by this profoundly sensual relationship. Freud would’ve had a heyday trying to figure it out.
The odds of HIM following through with any of his promises seemed unlikely. He had lured me into hotel rooms, but I would’ve gone willingly. Unfulfilled promises made me restless. I’d had a glimpse of a life I thought I wanted. His failure to make good on his promises left me more bereft, more cheated. I didn’t trust HIM but I kept coming back for more. I knew it would end. It had to. Yet at the same time I couldn’t imagine my life without HIM. Certainly the abyss of my mother’s death would seem more pronounced without HIM distracting me.
So maybe all this aching for HIM was really a gut reaction to the finality of my mother’s passing. It is hard to go it alone. It’s close to impossible.
I couldn’t stop thinking about any of this. My head was reeling. I packed my belongings, left the hotel room and drove home.
Esme was thrilled to see me. The kittens were cuter than I remembered them. I sat on the floor playing with them all.
Later in the day I went to spend Christmas with Rebecca and her family. It was pleasant. Sam came with me. It was fine and we had a good time. I was still wearing the green and red velvet dress and diamond earrings. No one asked me where I got them, but I’m sure everyone knew they were a gift from HIM.
I couldn’t wait to get home.
29
THE BOY …
Love Jo all your days, if you choose, but don’t let it spoil you, for it’s wicked to throw away so many good gifts because you can’t have the one you want.
Louisa May Alcott, Little Women.
I couldn’t fall asleep. Christmas had been a washout. If I couldn’t be with HIM on a holiday, then it wasn’t the real deal. I’d always be the woman he fucked in fancy hotel rooms. He’d buy me expensive gifts, he’d parade me in public in the hotels, but otherwise our ‘business’ was behind closed doors. He’d never introduce me to his children, no matter how many times he promised it. I didn’t know why I’d broken up with THE BOY only for this.
I looked at the clock. It was 3.00 a.m. I called THE BOY. I didn’t expect him to answer the phone.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked groggily.
‘No. I can’t stand it. I CAN’T STAND IT.’
‘What can’t you stand?’ he asked calmly.
‘Just come over. Are you alone?’
‘Yes. Miranda went out of town with her parents.’
‘I don’t care where she is. Just come over,’ I said as I hung up.
I took a quick bath. I hoped the water would remove at least some of the blotchiness caused by all the crying. I ran a comb through my hair.
I found the Little Red Riding Hood cape and put it on. The velvet material felt wonderful against my skin and I began to imagine THE BOY fucking me. That was what I needed. THE BOY. I should never have let him go.
I heard a soft knock at the front door. He was in running pants and a light jacket. As soon as he was in my home, he fell to his knees. I opened the cape. He began worshipping my breasts.
‘Oh, my God. I forgot. How can I live without your tits?’ he exclaimed. ‘I love them. I worship them.’
His hands, his mouth, his tongue, his lips were all making love to my breasts. We moved over to my couch. He took off his pants. I pressed my breasts together so he could fuck between them. He came almost immediately. He fell on top of me.
‘Oh, you’re back,’ I said. ‘Thank God.’
By now THE BOY had regained consciousness. He looked at me, my breasts exposed and flushed from his lovemaking. He took the ends of the cape and wrapped it around me so I was no longer exposed. He found his running pants and put them back on.
‘Well, actually, I plan to neve
r do this again with you. You caught me off guard tonight. I felt sorry for you. But it’ll never happen again.’
‘I called you. You couldn’t get here fast enough.’
‘It’s too much. You’re too much.’
‘But I love you.’
‘You have no idea what love is.’
‘But you just fucked my tits.’
‘I could fuck your tits for the rest of my life. You will always be my sexual fantasy. But I can’t do this any more. I went crazy after we broke up. I dropped out of college. I’m just now getting my life back.’
‘But what about the swim team?’
‘The school’s calling the semester a washout. I can return next September and none of this will be on my record.’
‘They don’t know I had anything to do with your dropping out?’
‘No.’
‘And Miranda?’
‘She knows there was someone else. But she doesn’t know the whole story. Sam got me a job as an apartment manager. I moved out of my parents’ house. I don’t make a lot of money but I’m getting by.’
‘Wow.’
THE BOY took a strand of my hair and put it behind my ear. ‘Oh, my beautiful, beautiful Goddess. You have no idea of your powers. And I am not just talking sexually. You have this amazing imagination virtually untapped. Do you realise how everything we said and did together was this incredible adventure? Do you have any idea what you are capable of?’
‘No. I am a lonely, neurotic woman who drives away every man she loves.’
‘What happened with HIM?’
‘He’s off skiing with his kids. Or so he says. He’s been better ever since he caught us together but it’s still not enough.’
THE BOY stood up and started pacing.
‘I don’t ever want you to call me again in the middle of the night. I can’t be the person who consoles you about HIM. I have no idea what will happen to your relationship with HIM, but I don’t want any part of it. The last two days have been too much. The way you treated me at the hotel was abominable.’
‘Yeah. But you fucked me there and you came back for some more tonight.’
‘It’s almost impossible to stay away from you. But I have to.’
‘I see. But why did you make love to my breasts then if you’re trying to start a new life?’
‘I don’t know. It was so late in the night. You looked like a vision.’
‘I love you,’ I told THE BOY.
‘I love you too,’ he said. ‘But I can’t be with you.’
‘You’ll come back,’ I said, but he’d already walked out the front door.
30
Hysteria …
My heart was a habitation large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream …
Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter
The day after I saw THE BOY I was back in hysteria mode.
I did not leave my duplex for the next couple of days. Esme was busy with her babies but she still checked in on me from time to time. I lay in bed, feeling sick. My paranoia was getting worse by the moment.
I couldn’t stand another moment without HIM. I’d do anything – including use THE BOY as a distraction – to make the pain go away. And the irony was that things with HIM had been going really well lately.
So why was I so skittish? Couldn’t I spend one lousy day without HIM?
He had told me he was taking his children to ski in Utah. On Sunday morning I sent HIM a text.
ME: How is the skiing?
HIM: Aspen is wonderful.
ME: Aspen? You said Utah.
HIM: I meant Aspen. Didn’t I say Colorado?
ME: Doesn’t matter. Have a great time.
And then I couldn’t stand it. I was sure I’d caught HIM in a lie.
I took a hot shower and made love to myself while the water beat down on me. I went back to bed wrapped in a towel. I fell asleep only to wake up in the middle of the afternoon. I called THE BOY.
‘Please. Please,’ I said into THE BOY’s message machine. ‘Come over. I’ll break it off with HIM. You’re the one I love. We can make it work. Come over. My whole body aches for you’.
I waited for THE BOY to call me back but I suspect he knew my words were hollow.
I fell asleep again. Oddly enough it was not HIM who came to mind as I drifted off. I began crying for Jake. What had I done to him? Why had I done it? Why couldn’t I have left him with grace? I destroyed this good and kind man one evening by sleeping with a friend of his. Jake had arrived home to find me in bed with another man. It was a stupid act on my part. But it did what I had wanted it to do: Jake left me.
In fact he left our city. He packed his belongings and moved north. I’d still see him at Rebecca’s house on holidays. He’d come to my mom’s memorial service. But by then he was already married. His wife was expecting. I’d had my chance at the real thing, and I let it pass me by.
And THE BOY. What had I done to THE BOY?
I woke up in the early morning. The clock on my fireplace mantel said 6.31 a.m. I calculated it would be an hour later in Colorado or Utah. I had no idea where he was. I called HIM. He did not pick up. I hung up the phone and dialled again. I stopped counting the number of times I did this. Three hours later he finally answered the phone.
‘I can’t do this,’ I screamed.
He didn’t say anything. He just hung up.
31
Doomsday
I loved you madly; in the distasteful work of the day, in the wakeful misery of the night, girded by sordid realities, or wandering through Paradises and Hells of visions into which I rushed, carrying your image in my arms, I loved you madly.
Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood
I knew I was now in temporary insanity mode. I rummaged through the drawer until I found his ex-wife’s phone number I had copied from his cell. I looked at the clock. It was still pretty early in the morning. It certainly wasn’t the time to be calling her but maybe there was never a correct time to call an ex-wife. My heart began beating wildly. I felt completely disoriented.
I dialled her number.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello. I have been having an affair with your husband. Your ex-husband. I don’t know if he’s still with you or not.’
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who you are and I don’t care.’
‘Well, if you’re still married, wouldn’t you want to know that he’s been sleeping with someone else?’
‘It’s early. Why are you calling me? My husband doesn’t live here any more. Whatever he’s up to is his business. Not mine.’ She paused. ‘You know, you’re not the first woman to call me. You probably won’t be the last. I left HIM after the third or fourth woman called me.’
‘But your husband …’
‘You’re all the same – I’m sure you’re very beautiful, sexy, a little unhinged. He makes you promises he has no intention of keeping. I’m not sure what kind of power he has over women like you.’
‘But your husband …’ I began.
‘Ex-husband. Listen. I don’t know you. I don’t know what in your life is not working. But he is not the answer. He never was. He never will be.’
‘Where does he live if he doesn’t live with you?’ I asked, grasping at straws.
‘You have to be kidding,’ she said, laughing. ‘If he hasn’t invited you to his home, then I suspect he has his reasons. Listen, he isn’t right for you. He’s not right for anyone.’
‘But I think I’m in love with HIM.’
‘I don’t get this. You call me and think you’re doing me a favour telling me all this? You’re nuts. Don’t you have any friends who can help you with this? If I was still married you could’ve destroyed my life. Why would you do that? You’re not in love with HIM. Neither one of you are capable of it.’
‘Don’t be rude,’ I protested.
‘Listen, you’re the one who had no
right calling me. You’re the one who is sleeping with HIM.’
‘Please,’ I begged. ‘It’s just that I wanted you to know about us.’
‘Why on earth would I care? He’s your problem. Not mine. I’m hanging up now. If you call me back I’ll call the police and have you charged with harassment.’
And the phone went dead.
Fifteen minutes later I heard a text coming through.
HIM: WTF. Why did you do it? Why did you call her?
ME: I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.
HIM: You went too far. Why on earth did you call her?
ME: Please.
HIM: How did you get the number? It’s over. You’re out of your mind.
ME: Please.
HIM: What’s your problem?
ME: We were doing much better.
HIM: Yes, we were. But that wasn’t good enough for you.
ME: Please. Just see me one more time.
HIM: I won’t answer u back. Goodbye.
ME: PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But he was gone.
32
THE BOY, THE BOY …
A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea.
Honoré de Balzac
I lay in my bed and couldn’t get up. Minutes passed into hours. I was in a state of shock. I had lost HIM. What was I doing to myself? I slept on and off through the rest of the day and into the evening. I didn’t shower; it seemed like too much of an effort. I had lost HIM. It was entirely my fault. Fear had made me contact his wife. He and I had been doing so well. Why had I let fear take over? I had lost HIM. HIM. I had lost HIM. HIM. It had become my mantra.
At around 3.00 a.m. I heard a knock at my door. I leaped up. Oh my God, it was HIM. He had come to apologise. Everything would be OK.
It was THE BOY. He was drunk.
‘Please, please,’ he said. ‘I just want to hold you.’
I took him to my bed. We lay there side by side.
‘I love you,’ he said.
I looked at the tender young man and I thought, what have I done toyou? I had used him. THE BOY had been my Plan B.
Him Page 14