by Rosie Nixon
He fixed me with those eyes. The eyes I wanted to dive right into and lose myself in, never to re-emerge. I could have swum in those eyes forever. No life jacket needed. A warmth filled my cheeks. I almost wanted to cry. I took a deep breath.
‘It was complicated,’ I began. ‘We were young.’
‘Only 19,’ he said. ‘We knew so little about life then.’
‘I knew what it felt like to be in love though,’ I replied. ‘And I really did love you.’
His phone rang again, but he immediately turned it off.
We both looked at each other in silence for a few seconds. I mean, really looked.
He slid his hand around my neck and pulled me into his chest. I hoped he would stop this line of questioning because it felt so good to be held and I desperately wanted to kiss him. For us to forget about everything and everyone else, just for a moment. He smelt nice, comforting – a faint woody cologne and washing detergent.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered, his eyes gleaming. ‘Let’s not get into it.’ And he stroked my hair.
After that, the following hour seemed to pass in a flash. Glasses charged, we started to talk about some of the fun times we had had at uni, the freshers’ parties, the time we had drunk so much peach schnapps we couldn’t get out of bed for forty-eight hours, and then we moved on to our work, families and the few mutual friends we were still in touch with – he remembered Katie and was interested to hear what she was up to in Oxfordshire. All the while we stole shy, fleeting glances at each other as we covertly weighed up the passing of time and what had once been between us.
So much had changed, yet so much was exactly the same.
He still had a face that smiled entirely, his eyes as engaged as his mouth, his lips plump and wide, and the little gap between his lower front teeth that used to bug him when we were young made him even more handsome. He laughed easily – the infectious delight he took from life. It wasn’t hard to imagine that many women had fallen under Jason’s spell during the last two decades. I couldn’t help but feel honoured he still remembered me; that I held a special place in his heart.
I found myself fighting an impulse to sink into him, to let him wind an arm around my shoulder again, to pull me close and kiss me. He felt so familiar yet I didn’t really know him at all. But the chemistry was still there, I couldn’t be imagining it. Surely he felt it too?
Jason had just returned from the bar with a bottle of red wine – we had drunk at least a bottle and a half already, in single glasses, and now there was no mistaking it, we were drunk. As he sat down and faced me, I got the feeling he felt the attraction too. There was something familiar between us, but also illicit; a thrill in our behaviour but also a feeling that we were doing nothing wrong. That it was natural and right that we were together right now. It was as if, in that moment, we existed in a parallel world. That’s how I justified the feelings I was having towards a married man, anyway. The wine was slipping down far too easily, and I’d noticed Jason down a large shot at the bar. He seemed intent on getting drunk; I sensed an underlying recklessness to his actions. I wondered if there was more to it; if he was happy in his marriage.
Under the table, Jason put a hand on my knee. I could see that he was drunk, his eyes less focused as they rested on mine for a moment too long. Eye contact is such a powerful thing. This time I didn’t look away. I wished I’d worn my new Michael Kors dress, the one I was saving for an exciting date – the kind that hadn’t been on the table for quite a while. The dress had been hanging in my wardrobe unworn for weeks. If only I had known about this evening. I couldn’t take my mind off his hand; I ached to feel his soft fingers on my warm bare skin. I was sure I didn’t imagine his hand move slightly higher, to rest on my thigh. I didn’t dare move my leg for fear he might take it off. I longed to lace my fingers with his. I think I said something about my job, how I got passed over for a promotion recently, so perhaps his gesture was meant sympathetically, perhaps it was totally innocent. But it didn’t feel innocent. Every touch felt electrifying. I wanted his fingers to gently ride up the inside of my leg, and stop around my crotch. I wondered what it would feel like if he was to part my legs a little and just hover there a moment, pushing his index finger into my jeans. All I wanted to do was lose myself in him. I felt my eyes glaze.
Jason broke my thoughts by coughing, then he got up and excused himself for the Gents’.
I can’t have been imagining the sexual tension between us. Perhaps Jason needed to splash cold water over his face. I metaphorically did the same, running my fingers through my hair, sitting up straighter and moving my head from side to side in an effort to sober up. I tried to focus on the food menu that lay untouched on the table. Perhaps something to eat would help.
I pulled out my phone and checked the time: 10 p.m. We had been drinking for over five hours, it was no wonder I felt drunk.
There was a message from Mum:
Are you watching Channel 4? There’s a programme about PR. X
Mum would be irked by the lack of response, so I quickly replied, telling her I’d find it on catch up and would call her tomorrow.
There was another message, from Katie:
Loads of luck for tomorrow. Hope it all goes well. Call me after. Much love x
I wondered what they’d say if either of them could have seen me now. On the way to being plastered with an ex-boyfriend. This ex-boyfriend in particular.
I felt a little disappointed that Oscar hadn’t messaged me. Not that he knew why tomorrow was so important, or because there was any reason for him to contact me, but hearing from him still had the power to brighten up my day. I missed him a lot.
I put all thoughts of tomorrow – and Oscar – out of my head.
Jason returned to his seat and placed two tequila shots on the table.
I pushed mine away. ‘I’ve never been good with tequila,’ I said.
‘Remember that cheap stuff they used to serve at the campus bar?’ He smiled. His brow was slightly sweaty as he downed his shot followed by mine.
Then I can’t even remember what we were talking about because my mind was too focused on how badly I wanted to kiss him. The alcohol was making me feel reckless. As if reading my mind, he put his hand back on my leg, only this time he squeezed harder, and then he slowly walked his fingers up my thigh. I didn’t want him to stop, but something made me put my hand on his, to slow him down as much as anything.
‘You okay?’ he asked, turning to me, his eyes glassy.
‘Yes, fine,’ I answered, my insides full of excited butterflies.
How could I say that it felt amazing, that I was fantasizing about what I’d like him to do with me in the corner of a busy pub on a Thursday evening? Although I was worried about what might happen if he did go there – if I’d be able to stop him, and how I’d cope afterwards. I thought about what was going to happen tomorrow, how I would be lying on the bed in the clinic, my legs in the air, having a tiny embryo placed inside me. I should be at home, getting ready for bed. I shouldn’t be pissed in a pub, fantasizing about letting an ex-boyfriend finger me.
I pulled out my phone again, although I already knew what time it was.
‘It’s late,’ I sighed, barely able to look him in the eye. I wanted him so much. Just the lightest brush of his arm was doing all kinds of things to my insides. I hadn’t felt this sexually alive in a long time. Maybe I should leave now, go home, eat toast and drink lots of water before sleeping the alcohol off. My gaze lingered on his lips again.
‘I don’t even have your number,’ he said.
I unlocked my phone and opened a blank new contact page.
‘Here, put in yours,’ I replied as if this were as normal as an exchange with a new work contact.
He added his name and number. Just ‘Jason’. He hadn’t needed a surname in my address book then, and he didn’t need one now.
‘I’m not ready for tonight to end – are you?’ he asked, delighting me as much as terrifying me, that yes
, he did seem to be thinking the same.
‘I really should be going home, I’ve got lots on tomorrow, but…’ I allowed myself to look fully into his eyes and let him reach into mine. ‘I’m really enjoying your company.’
I think that was the moment we both made the decision.
‘Let’s get some air,’ he suggested.
It was still fairly warm outside, when we stood on the corner of the main road, just outside the pub. I felt exposed out there. Where I could have imagined us kissing in our discreet corner of the pub, now we were out in the open the spell was broken. What if someone either of us knew saw us? He was married, after all.
‘Which direction are you heading, we could share a cab?’ he suggested.
‘I’m Brixton. You’re Clapham, right?’ He’d already described where he lived to me earlier.
‘Perfect, we can get a cab. I think there’s a taxi rank this way.’
‘Taxi rank?’ I smirked. ‘Which London do you live in? Everyone gets Ubers, I haven’t heard of anyone seeking out a “taxi rank” in years,’ I giggled.
‘Oh really, Miss Lucy Raven, well maybe I’m just a proper old-fashioned gent,’ he grinned, tipping an imaginary bowler hat.
‘Hmm, gent? Local scallywag, more like,’ I retorted.
‘Let’s see about that,’ he replied, and then he peeled off down the street and leapt up into a pirouette under a street light. It was quite skillful, considering how drunk we were. I chuckled. He had always been a funny guy. The orange glow of a free taxi came into sight and he caught the driver’s attention with a whistle.
The next thing I knew, he was putting a hand on my back to guide me into the black cab, and then it was as if destiny was controlling what would happen next. It was so easy, so natural, so right and so totally wrong at the same time. He took my hand and squeezed it tightly. Every touch felt charged. We kept turning to look at each other, lust in our eyes; weighing up what would happen next without needing the words. The cabbie would definitely have assumed we were a couple. Why should he have noticed that only one of us was wearing a wedding band?
My insides yearned for Jason; I was aching for him. This feeling, it was more than just lust. I was familiar with lust and its heightened senses, but this was lust mixed with rekindled love. A sensation that was impossible to rationalise, but was tipping me into insanity and making me willing to take such a huge risk on this night of all nights.
I unlocked the door to my flat with Jason standing behind me. I could feel his breath on my hair, one hand touching my waist. A hurried goodbye in the back of a taxi didn’t seem right, not with our history. It made sense to invite him in.
The second the front door closed behind me, before either of us had even spoken, in the darkness of my hallway, he turned my face towards his, cradled my head in both hands and leant forwards. Suddenly his tongue was in my mouth, swirling around mine passionately and it felt electric. Our bodies were pressed together. At first I was taken aback by the urgency, but I happily gave into it. Kissing him felt familiar and right. Once a good kisser, always a good kisser. He smelled good. His lips were soft and warm. Our noses gently brushed one another. Occasionally we broke apart to look at each other, eyes shining with longing. His hands were running up and down my sides. Then they were on my breasts, holding them through my jumper, while his mouth worked its way down my neck, to my collarbone, kissing me all the way, breathing deeply. He lifted my jumper slightly and pressed his body into my bare stomach, then his hands slid further under my jumper and I gasped as he pulled down my bra until one nipple popped out of the cup and my flesh was pushed upwards. He lowered himself and put his mouth around my exposed nipple, whipping it into a solid peak with his tongue and then he did the same with the other.
I reached down and ran my hands under his jacket pulling his shirt out of his trousers, then working my way to the front, running my fingers over the clasp of his belt and reaching down to touch his cock through his trousers, feeling the hardness I knew to expect.
‘Not yet,’ he whispered into my ear, having worked his way back to standing, pressing his erection into my body, thrilling me.
I was moaning with longing, I couldn’t help it.
‘But I want you,’ I found myself whispering, this time taking his head into my hands and pulling him into my gaze. He looked at me and smiled.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I want you too.’
I knew it was wrong. I knew he had a wife. And I knew full well that I was meant to refrain from sexual activity just before the embryo transfer. I also knew this was likely to end up hurting me all over again, and possibly harder than before – because this time, at this moment, I had even more to lose. I knew that we couldn’t make the past right, whatever happened. Yes, I knew there were thousands of reasons why this was a bad idea and very few arguments to say it was a good one. But cupid was sat on my shoulder firing arrows all around us, like an Instagram filter come to life, making everything look perfect. He was goading me on. I couldn’t say no.
I had rarely felt so drawn to someone, not since Oscar. I was still mourning what Oscar and I could have had. It was so serendipitous that Jason was back, right here, in my – slightly blurry – sights, on this night of all nights. Maybe I had to go through everything with Oscar to find Jason again.
‘I’ve thought about you so much,’ I said. It came out louder than intended.
He didn’t answer and for a moment I thought I’d said too much; ruined it all. Admitted something that might send him running for the door.
But instead he said nothing, he just lifted me up into his strong arms, and carried me towards the sofa.
‘Not here,’ I uttered, as he gently lowered my feet to the ground. Instead I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.
And there, we couldn’t hold out any longer. I sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled my jumper off over my head, unclasped my bra so it collapsed in submission around my torso and when I had flung it onto the floor, he pushed me backwards into the duvet, pinning my arms above my head and encouraging me to keep them there before getting to work on my nipples again, expertly caressing them, massaging my naked breasts and hard nipples and running his fingers over my stomach towards the top of my jeans. They hovered there just long enough for me to feel ready to give him anything he liked. I tried not to think of tomorrow, my legs in stirrups and the face of a consultant very close to where his was now.
At last he expertly unbuttoned the fly with a single flick and pulled my jeans down my thighs, taking my knickers with them and kissing my exposed skin as he went.
And then he was inside me, filling me up as he thrusted deeply, the weight of his body on mine. His eyes were scrunched closed as we rocked backwards and forwards together, moaning with ecstasy, making love.
It must have been nearly sunrise when I woke up. His eyes were heavy with sleep as I planted a light kiss on his shoulder. I was nearly dropping off again myself when his head turned, he opened his eyes and looked at me – he looked into my soul – and we shared a moment. We acknowledged what had happened. I felt that life would never be the same again.
‘Morning,’ he said, his eyes smiling as much as his lips. ‘How are you feeling?’
The truth was, I had a banging headache. ‘I’ve felt better,’ I mumbled, my voice still hoarse with sleep. ‘My head is killing me. What about you?’
‘The same. What a night.’ He planted a kiss on my forehead. ‘You were so naughty.’
‘Me?’ I scoffed, jokingly. ‘I think you were just as naughty, from what I recall.’
I rolled over to face him. He paused. He looked as though something was weighing on his mind.
‘What are you thinking?’ I wondered if the adultery he’d just committed had hit home yet – and how it might make him feel. Perhaps he was still drunk.
‘Actually, I was thinking about you,’ he said. ‘About how we broke up. When you went home with appendicitis. Do you remember?’
I nodded. ‘Of cour
se I do. But why are you thinking about that now?’ My heart quickened. I was too hungover for heavy chats this morning.
‘We touched on it last night; the reason you broke up with me,’ he said.
‘It was so long ago, Jason. I really don’t want to go there again.’ Not today, not now.
He continued, seemingly on a mission to get something off his chest: ‘It wasn’t your appendix, was it? You were pregnant.’
He must have seen the expression on my face change immediately to one of horror as the colour left my cheeks. He stopped. A few seconds passed. But then he continued, undeterred. ‘You were pregnant with our baby,’ he said it almost matter-of-factly. ‘Tell me what happened, Lucy? I really want to know.’
‘It sounds like you know already,’ I replied, partly still in shock at what he had revealed. ‘I’m not sure I want to go into this right now. In fact, I really don’t feel up to—’
‘You aborted our baby.’ He said the words in such a cold, unemotional way.
I felt a strong impulse to cry but did my best to fight it. I took a deep breath. Although floored that he knew all this, perhaps he did deserve an explanation.
‘My emotions were all over the place,’ I began. ‘My parents believed it was the best option, so I went along with it. I couldn’t fathom bringing a baby into the world. I had no idea how it would work. Jason, we were still teenagers. But it hurt, it hurt so much when I went through with it. I’ve never got over it.’ My head hung down. The fact I was naked now felt dirty and cheap. Anything but beautiful or sexy. The idea that his lips were clamped onto mine just a few hours ago, it seemed like a very wrong and distant memory. I pulled the duvet up around me and my fists clenched around it.
We were both silenced now.
‘It’s a decision I’ve regretted ever since,’ I added after a few seconds. I breathed out, my head pounding. I fought back tears again. Once the floodgates opened, I wasn’t sure how they would close. I really didn’t want to cry. Not naked in bed with him.