I kissed her. Harder than she had kissed me. I parted her lips with the tip of my tongue, and let it graze her teeth. The kiss was hard but slow.
She inhaled quickly. Was she surprised? Were we in some back-and-forth competition now to see who would take this further? If so, she had picked the wrong opponent.
I slid my hand around her waist, pulling her body against mine. Those tits. Fuck. I felt them press against my chest and hated the fact that I wasn’t feeling them against my bare skin.
She was an eager kisser—lips open wide, her tongue furiously swirling with mine—maybe the most aggressive kiss I’d ever had with a girl. And the little noises she was making were begging me to keep going.
Kissing her in this house, right here in the hallway between her room and what used to be my room, was one of the things I had wanted to do but never did. I’d had opportunities, especially on those nights when she would come to my room to watch TV or a movie. So many chances. Yet I resisted because I had to.
Now? Forget it. There was no stopping this now that it had started.
Dawn was getting worked up fast. Pulling me closer to her. Lifting one of her legs and wrapping it around the back of my thigh. I’d been with horny girls before, but this was something else. This was pent-up frustration, anger, something…
I was getting lost in it, my conscious thoughts shutting down as my heart beat faster and my cock grew harder and all I cared about was what my hands were feeling.
I ran my hands through her hair, another thing I’d always wanted to do. I held my palm to the side of her head, my thumb brushing her cheek, as my tongue plunged into her mouth.
Fuck. I hadn’t had sex in four months. I had come to the house tonight with no plan, as usual, opting instead to let the moment dictate what I would do. I had anticipated some awkwardness, and especially some tension, but none of what was happening now had crossed my mind.
I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to do.
Dawn’s hands roamed around my belt, then underneath my shirt. Her hands slid from my stomach up to my chest.
“Dawn,” I said, our mouths still feverishly going at each other’s. I lifted my hand, trying to stop her. “Wait,” I said.
But before I could get her to stop—Jesus, she was on fire with lust—she had lifted the front of my shirt up, exposing my chest, and I saw the confusion wash over her reddened face turn to disbelief.
Chapter Nine – Dawn
I couldn’t look away from the tattoo. I recognized it immediately, and it was as though all of this was some kind of horrible dream, the worst nightmare I’d ever had.
He’d been trying to stop me as I pulled up his shirt, and the first thing that popped into my mind was that he was going to give me a line like: Are you sure you want to do this? But I should have known it was for some other reason. There was no way he couldn’t read from my body language—how insanely I was going at him—that I was sure I wanted to do this.
As my eyes drifted up from his tattoo to his face, my mind tried to comprehend the fact that my private room stripper was Wes.
“I’m sorry, I was trying to tell you,” he was saying.
I felt my brow scrunch up along with my face, a contorted expression of disbelief to match the way all of this was spinning around in my mind. “What?”
“I should have told you before,” he said. His eyes bore into mine. We were still just inches apart and his voice was a hoarse whisper.
“You knew? You knew that was me all along?”
“No, no. Not when it happened. Not that night.” He tried to put his hand on my arm. I pushed it away.
“Then when?”
He paused, taking a deep breath and letting the words float out as he exhaled. “In the store.”
I ducked around him, backing down the hall a few steps, putting some much-needed space between us.
“You knew three weeks ago and you’re just now telling me?”
I felt tears welling up in my eyes, though I wasn’t sure of the cause: sadness, disappointment, raging anger, all of the above?
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “No. No, Wes. You can’t just say you’re sorry about something like that. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He leaned against the wall and straightened out his t-shirt that I’d done a pretty good job of wrinkling and twisting in my fingers.
“Let me explain.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m waiting for.” My eyes had stopped filling with water and I hadn’t shed a tear. Good.
He stood straight now, as if gathering the will to tell me. “What happened that night…that’s the only reason I didn’t text you back or return your calls. I wanted to tell you, I just didn’t know how or when. Look, I didn’t come here tonight planning for any of this to happen. It just did.”
“I’m so fucking embarrassed.”
“Don’t be. It was both of us.”
I felt my eyes widen at his response. Could he have been more aloof? “Then why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“We were pretty caught up in the moment, but I did try to tell you right before you lifted my shirt. I said ‘Wait’ but…”
“So it’s my fault,” I said.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
I lowered my voice. “That’s what it sounds like.”
“I don’t know what else to say, Dawn. I’m sorry.”
My body was tense, all my nerves were burning. The pure lust I had been feeling with him had morphed into anger and embarrassment. Not a good feeling.
My head felt like it was on fire. I put my hand to my face, then to my forehead. I looked down at the floor. I looked at the wall. I was looking for an answer, something to make this all right. But it wasn’t there.
Without looking at him I said, “I need to think.”
“I’ll go downstairs.”
“No,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “I mean…I think you should go.”
I looked at his face. It was expressionless.
He walked past me, then down the stairs, as he said, “Thanks for the pizza.” I couldn’t read his voice. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or if my mind was filtering it so that’s what it sounded like.
Jesus, this was fucked up.
Aside from the disappointment of a great night being ruined, aside from feeling so embarrassed, there was also this soft voice in my head, gently suggesting that I had good reason not to trust him and this was just one sign.
. . . . .
The weekend dragged on. Scott had gone hunting with his dad from Friday until Sunday, and when he got back, he called and said he wanted to take me out to dinner. I didn’t feel like going, but I also didn’t feel like being at home when my parents got back from their trip that night. Plus, I needed to fix this part of my life, and right away.
Among all that I’d thought about over my lonely weekend, I had decided I would tell Scott. Not about Wes, specifically. That would get too messy. But I would confess about the strip club. It did feel on some level like cheating, but not as much as the kissing in the hallway the other night. The kiss was the real breach, more so than Wes the stripper sucking on my nipples while I touched his cock. It was the kiss that did it for me.
We ate and I just couldn’t do it. Not there in the restaurant. I put it off and planned to do it in the car when he dropped me off at home.
When we pulled into my driveway later that evening, I saw that my parents hadn’t gotten home yet.
Scott said, “I could tell you weren’t yourself at dinner.”
Great. I was so easy to read. Here it comes.
“And,” he continued, “I know I wasn’t either.”
I looked over at him.
He looked away from me, straight ahead through the windshield.
“I wasn’t on a hunting trip.” He let out a huge sigh after saying it. “I was in Sacramento.”
“Okay…”
“I slept with som
eone.” His head turned slowly back to face me. “I was with Kyle and Kevin, and we were out at this bar one night and it…just…it just happened.”
As Scott confessed, I felt an odd mixture of emotions: anger, relief, regret.
Anger that he’d cheated on me. But I quickly realized that I had walked an extremely fine line with that myself.
Relief that this was over. This was my way out. He clearly had the same lack of feelings that I did.
Regret that I’d spent so much time and energy worrying about how to end this with him. He’d given me the perfect out. Which led right back to relief, and the anger quickly subsided.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. Maybe it was an odd one, but it was symbolic of the lack of excitement and adventure in our relationship. “Remember we were going to go to Sacramento for the International Festival last year, and the year before that, but never did? That was last weekend, wasn’t it?”
He just nodded.
I smiled as I looked forward. “I always wanted to go to that. I still don’t know why you didn’t take me. But, hey, at least I wasn’t there over the weekend, right?” I looked back at him.
He had a look of confusion on his face. “You’re taking this a little too easily.”
I nodded, looked forward, down the street, thinking this was the last time I’d be in his car, the last time either of us would have to pretend that we were together for all the wrong reasons.
“I guess I am,” I said. “I mean…Come on, Scott, you know this was going to happen sooner or later. I mean, I didn’t know how, exactly, but this couldn’t go on like we’d been going.” I looked at him again. “Right?”
He looked confused. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” I said, my hand motioning back and forth between us. “This. Us. We’ve been pretending we’re in love and…we’re not. You proved it with your trip.”
Scott’s eyes wrinkled at the corners and his brow furrowed tightly. “You don’t love me? I love you. I am in love with you.”
I sat up straighter, alarmed, my own confusion setting in. The anger returned. “Wait. You cheated on me and now you’re telling me you really are in love with me?”
“Yes.” His voice came out like a desperate, pleading whisper.
We were silent for a few moments. I had no idea what Scott was thinking because I didn’t even understand what he was saying, it made no sense.
I looked straight ahead out the windshield.
Scott shifted in his seat to face me. “It was just one time. A mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”
I turned my head slowly toward him. “It always means something. Sex always, always means something. And I think you know what it meant for you.”
There was no way to know whether he got it, whether he understood that he had cheated because he was bored in our relationship. But this was typical Scott—he wanted what he wanted, even if it directly contradicted something else he wanted.
“Maybe we can talk tomorrow,” he said. “I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I’m not upset, I’m pissed off because you don’t understand that this is over.” I reached for the door handle. “And there’s need for us to talk about this. Not tomorrow. Not at all, actually.”
“You’re upset, I know…”
I shook my head. He didn’t get it. He refused to believe that his sexual adventure with whoever it was (I didn’t even care) wasn’t an issue for me. I was more troubled by the fact that he was trying to insist that we work this out. It wasn’t just about the cheating. It was about the bigger picture: we were done, we probably should have never started to begin with.
I got out of the car.
He was saying, “Dawn, hold on a sec,” but I closed the door and started toward my house.
It was fine, just fine. Exactly like my relationship had been with Scott all along. Fine. Not great, not horrible, no intensity. Just fine.
I started up the walkway to my house as I thought about how that was probably one of the weirdest breakups in the history of breakups. But it fit with everything that had been happening over the last couple of months. Everything was changing.
I didn’t feel like facing my parents tonight. I had too much on my mind and really didn’t feel like listening to them talk about their trip. Plus, I needed to think.
I went to my room, changed for bed, turned the lights off, and lay there in the dark. My mind was racing with countless thoughts. It felt like it was going to be a sleepless night, and that’s exactly what it turned out to be.
I heard my parents get home just before 11 p.m.
I had put my phone on silent for the night, but I checked it around 1 a.m., hoping there’d be a text or missed call from Wes. Nothing.
Somewhere around 4 a.m., I started to dread the coming day at work. I was going to be exhausted, physically and mentally.
I sat in a chair by the window and watched the sun come up over the trees.
By 6 a.m., I had made up my mind about what I was going to do.
Chapter Ten – Wes
I’d had some bad weekends in my life, but this one was right up there with the worst. I decided not to contact her. Maybe she had thought it over and decided it was a mistake to see me in the first place. I decided I was going to give her until Monday night and then I was going to call her.
But then she texted. It was Monday, just after lunch. I was setting up a display for a wine sale that was lasting all week. I’d been thinking all day about finally going down to the beach near my new place. Maybe walk around, get used to the feel of the sand beneath my feet again. Maybe wander into a surf shop if one was open, and take a look at some boards.
I heard my phone chime in my pocket and almost ignored it until I was finished with this part of the display I was working on, but I couldn’t ignore it. I’d hoped it was Dawn and it was.
Her: Hey, can we talk? I mean in person.
Hell yes, we could talk. I thought for a moment and wrote back: Pick a place and I’ll be there.
A couple of minutes went by and I got tired of waiting. I started to text back that she should come to my apartment, but then her text came in.
Her: Can I come to your place?
I gave her my address, she said she got off work at six and she’d come by after that.
I did a half-assed job finishing up the display and called it a day.
. . . . .
“What?” she said when I opened my apartment door. “What’s that look for?”
Dawn was wearing a dark red dress when she showed up. Heels, too, which made her taller than I was used to.
“You shouldn’t have gotten all dressed up for me, but I appreciate it.”
She smiled. “You wish.”
She stepped past me, through the door, and I smelled her perfume. Maybe her shampoo. Something.
She turned and faced me. “Are you still stripping?”
“Why? Did you come here for a private show?”
She was fighting back a smile. I could see it. I could always see it.
“I just want to know—”
I cut her off. “No, I’m not. I only did it for six months. Are you still going to see guys strip?”
“That was a bachelorette party. I had a good reason for being there.”
I walked to my kitchen. “So did I. Money. Want something to drink? I’ve got a few beers, some Dr. Pepper, let’s see…” I fumbled around in the refrigerator.
“You’re avoiding.”
I took two beers from the refrigerator, closed the door, and said, “Just getting us something to drink. You know, hospitality and all that.”
She looked annoyed but took the beer I handed her after popping the top off.
Her eyes scanned the kitchen and the den as she sipped.
“It’s not much,” I said. “But I just moved in. I haven’t even walked down to the beach yet. I was going to do that tonight.”
“Did I mess up your plans?”
“No,” I said. “Th
e beach will still be there. I can do it another time.”
“Are you still surfing.”
“Not in a long time,” I said, “but I think I want to get back into it.”
“That makes this place even more perfect.”
I laughed. “Your house has bathrooms bigger than my entire apartment.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “It’s not my house, it’s my parents, and I’d move into a place like this in a heartbeat if I got paid more or got a better job.”
“It’ll happen.”
I walked over to my new couch, sat down, and patted the cushion next to me. Dawn sat.
We were quiet for a moment or two. She’d obviously wanted to talk about something but she wasn’t coming out with it. I figured she was going to tell me that she felt guilty about cheating on Scott and, just like old times, I was supposed to come up with some guidance.
My plan was to play it cool, act like it didn’t matter that much. I wasn’t going to let her see me vulnerable.
“I broke up with Scott.”
Okay. Quick change of direction here. While I had teased her about not being able to break up with him, I was sure she wouldn’t actually do it. I stayed silent.
Dawn picked at the label on the beer bottle, her eyes laser-focused on what her fingertips were doing, avoiding eye contact with me. But then she looked up. “He, uh…was with another girl over the weekend.”
This would have been the perfect time to say I told you so but she didn’t need to hear that right now. So I just said it in my head and tried not to let it show on my face.
“You were right about him all along,” she said.
“Different reasons.”
She looked at me, her brow furrowed, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t think you should break up with him because he might cheat on you. I thought you should break up with him because you could do so much better.”
She blushed, gave a half-smile, and quickly changed the subject. “Why stripping?”
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