Hard Choices

by Ellson, Theresa

  I felt the pressure building from my slow grinding, and the slow, steady movement of Aaron’s thumb on my clit. Suddenly, the wave of orgasm broke over me so hard, I felt like I would drown in it – happily drown in it. Like every type of euphoria I had ever felt – the best orgasm, the best chocolate, the best runner’s high – all wrapped into one, perfect moment. It felt like it lasted for hours.

  When I “came to,” and became aware of my surroundings again, I looked down at Aaron and realized I was gripping his shoulders so hard, his shirt was going to be permanently wrinkled. Then I noticed the expression on his face: he was… alight. His eyes shone. He wasn’t smiling, he was looking at me like he’d never seen me before. Like he had just discovered the greatest toy ever under the Christmas tree. “Damn,” he whispered, “how am I ever going to top you, Lyssa?”

  I was still breathing so hard, I pretended not to have heard him. We’d already had this talk. I didn’t want to go there again.

  I looked around the still-vacant parking lot. “OK, I admit it. I’m glad we didn’t have an audience,” I said as I slid my panties back on. I threw my shoes down on the ground outside the car and slid into them as I stood up, tucking in and adjusting as I did. By the time Aaron was done cleaning up and re-tucking, he looked as crisp as he had at 9 am. I couldn’t help but laugh and shake my head. “How do you do that?” I asked. “How do you recover from sex and look all… normal minutes later?”

  But before I could even say the obvious answer, Aaron beat me to it: “Practice, practice, practice,” he leered at me.

  I laughed. “Well, I, for one, am grateful for all the ‘practice’ you’ve had. Come on. We have coffee to pick up.”

  We arrived back at work, and walked in together. It seemed totally natural, and no one even noticed. Thankfully, Jean wasn’t even at her desk. I had to admit to myself, I would not miss all the tension of feeling like I had to hide something from everyone I worked with. I mean, I had known I would eventually tell everyone about my divorce, so I wasn’t worried about word getting out. But my fling with Aaron was different. I didn’t want it sullied and made sordid by a bunch of twittering co-workers.

  Tuesday and Wednesday dragged by at work, but every night Aaron and I had frenzied, crazy sex, knowing it was the last of it. Or so I thought.

  “Lyssa?” he asked me Wednesday night, as we lay exhausted, on the floor of my bedroom.

  “Mmm?” I was still basking in the afterglow of yet another amazing orgasm.

  “Can I… can I call you over Thanksgiving?”

  My eyes flew open. But I didn’t hesitate. “Aaron, no. Look,” I rolled over onto my side, propped myself up on my elbow, and looked at him. “We had this talk. Sunday night.” I reached over and took his hand, to soften the harshness of my words. “I need this to be a clean break. I need to know that this is… over,” I choked a little on that last word. “For my own sanity. For my own peace of mind. I can’t give myself an out. I can’t. My life has changed so much in the last nine months. I’m still sort of growing into my own skin. And you! Next year, when you finish law school, everything is going to change for you! Let’s end things now, on a high note, rather than dragging it on, getting too attached to each other, and having to end it painfully, because, inevitably, it will end.”

  Aaron sighed and looked at the ceiling. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But I have to tell you,” he took a deep breath but didn’t look at me, “I’m not sure I consider this less painful.”

  I was tempted to comfort him. I was tempted to snuggle into his arms and let him comfort me. But I was simply too afraid. Too afraid that if I held on for one more second, I’d never be able to let go. So I reverted to my standard coping mechanism: “Well, it’s less painful than dropping a box of porn on your foot, right?”

  Aaron snorted and shook his head. “You are very good at that.” I knew what he meant: deflecting with humor. “And that,” he said, referring back to Scott’s box o’ porn, “is an image I will take with me forever.” We both laughed.

  I shook my head again. “Poor Scott. I spent months incredulous that he didn’t really know me anymore. But I have to concede, I was just as guilty of neglect. I let that marriage die, too.”

  Aaron looked over at me, a little confused. We’d never talked about this. I wasn’t sure why I’d slipped into it. Maybe, just for a second, I thought I was talking to a contemporary who could relate. His look of confusion was a good reminder: we really didn’t have anything in common.

  “Feed me one last meal?” He asked. “Let’s go back to that awesome deli where you took me the first night,” he leered at me, and I laughed.

  “Think we’ll make it out of the parking lot this time?” I asked.

  “Well,” Aaron rolled over really fast, and was suddenly lying on top of me. We were both still completely naked, “Let’s take the edge off now so we can relax and eat.” I felt his huge erection against my stomach and laughed.

  “Yeah,” I pulled my knees up, and locked my ankles behind him, “let’s make sure we’re good and hungry,” I said as I started grinding against him.

  He reached over my head and grabbed a condom off the nightstand. I released him from my grip so he could sit up on his knees to slide it on. Naked, with that huge hard-on, kneeling over me, he was just so beautiful.

  “You really do look like an underwear model on a billboard,” I reached out and stroked his huge cock, “only without the best parts covered up.”

  “Why don’t you cover them up for me?” He laid over me again, all his weight on one arm as he guided his cock into me with the other hand. We’d already had so much sex in the last few days, I actually winced a little as he entered me. He was so focused, he didn’t notice. He sighed as he entered me again, slowly, slowly stroking me. This time, whatever angle we were at was perfect for getting that elusive g-spot. My breathing quickened as he stroked it gently, again and again. It was so good, I was afraid to move, but the orgasm hit me so hard, I arched my back and cried out as he kept moving slowly. I thrashed around, trying to push him out of me. It was just too much. But Aaron gripped me harder and started moving faster. My hips undulated against his until Aaron finally cried out and convulsed, holding himself deep inside of me until he was spent.

  Finally, after a few seconds – or minutes, or hours – he collapsed on top of me. My arms were thrown over my head. Almost instinctively, I started to bring them down to wrap around him… then stopped. This was our last night together. I needed to detach, not get more attached. Especially after my little speech about a clean break.

  “All right,” I huffed after a little bit, pretending to be crushed and unable to breath, “You’re smooshing me, and I need a sandwich,” I whined.

  “All right, all right,” he rolled over. I started to get up, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me down on top of him, making me yelp with surprise, which got us both laughing. Then, suddenly serious, he reached up and brushed my hair back from my face, cupping my jaw in his hands. “Seriously, Lyssa, thank you. Thank you for this summer. Thank you for the job. Thank you for the fun. Thank you for the endless supply of amazing sex.”

  “You know, that lopsided grin of yours is going to take you places, young sir,” I said. “And you’re welcome. And thank you.” I pushed myself up. “I really need a quick shower before we go out. I’m pretty sure I smell like sex. Lots and lots of great sex.”

  Aaron laughed. “Not a bad idea. I’ll clean up in the other bathroom. Can both showers run at once?”

  “Uh, no,” I shook my head. “I’ll go first. I’ll be quick in the shower, and it’ll take me longer to get ready after.”

  “You know,” Aaron looked up at me, “We could just share…”

  I shook my head without explaining that that was too intimate for me. “A girl’s gotta have her secrets!” I said, retreating behind humor once again. Where it was safe.

  ***

  We shared another great meal at “our” deli, laughing over his thi
rd sandwich and my second bag of chips.

  “I’m definitely going back to school in the same shape I left it in,” he said smugly.

  “Wow. You have that much sex on a regular basis? It’s a wonder it doesn’t fall off!” I shook my head at him.

  “No, Lyssa,” he said quietly, looking down at the table. “I don’t have that much. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much… as I’ve wanted you.” He looked up, not meeting my eyes. For a heartbeat, my breathing stopped. Come on, Aaron, I thought to myself, this is going so well. Don’t make it… weird!

  Suddenly his tone changed back to normal. “At school, I just work out a lot,” he explained. “Sex is recreation, not my fitness regime,” he leered at me again.

  “Well,” I licked the salt off my fingertips, “do you have one more workout in you tonight?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said in that quiet tone again, looking sideways so there was no chance of eye contact. I knew what was going on. It was last Sunday night all over again. He needed a clear boundary. So did I.

  “Good, because I need to be able to walk tomorrow,” I said jauntily. “So you done eating? You want to watch a movie?”

  He lapsed back into his lopsided grin. “I better not. I have a ton of laundry to finish, and my mommy won’t do it for me anymore,” he pretend-pouted, and I laughed at the side of him I’d never seen before.

  “OK,” I stood up and collected our trash from the table. “You can drop me back at my place. I think – no, I know – I will sleep like a baby tonight,” I yawned, surprised at how tired I truly was. I had tried not to admit it to myself, but I was emotionally wiped, too. Keeping up walls and holding boundaries was exhausting work. And completely new to me.

  We drove back in silence. Both of us, I think, remembering the first time we’d left that deli. I wondered if he’d relish that memory like I did. But I didn’t ask.

  The sun was low in the sky this close to Labor Day, and I felt that sad, end-of-summer nostalgia. Even with all my kids grown and gone, I still tended to think of September as the start of a new year. A year ago, Danny had headed off to boot camp. A year ago, I’d still been married. A year ago, I hadn’t known what my body was capable of feeling. A year ago, I never would have believed it if someone had tried to tell me what the next twelve months had in store for me.

  We pulled up in front of my house. Aaron got out with me and came around to my side of his car. He took my hand in his, and for a moment – the briefest of moments – we just looked into each other’s eyes. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but instead just gave me that lopsided grin again. I didn’t know if we should kiss goodbye, or hug, or what. What the hell is the appropriate way to say goodbye forever to your summer lover?

  Aaron knew: he pulled my hand up to his mouth, took my hand in both of his, and gently kissed the back of my hand. Then he laid his cheek against it, too. He closed his eyes, and just felt my skin against his cheek. I was touched almost to tears, but I held it together. Then he released my hand and stepped back. He took a deep breath and looked at me, across the gulf of three feet separating us. Across the gulf of more than fifteen years keeping us apart.

  “Goodbye, Lyssa,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I will never, ever, forget you.”

  “Goodbye, Aaron,” I whispered. “I… I wish you all the best.” I bit my lip, which I could feel trembling. “Be happy.”

  He nodded, then abruptly turned away. He got into his car without looking back at me, and drove off. I watched until he turned the corner, my arms wrapped around myself. Then I slowly made my way up my front walk. I keyed myself in, and shut the door behind me. I leaned up against it, and took a slow, shuddering breath.

  I knew exactly what I needed to do. I pulled out my phone and called Molly.

  When she picked up, I said, “OK. It’s over and done. Aaron is gone. I am sad,” I took a deep cleansing breath.

  “I know you are, honey,” Molly commiserated. “No way this isn’t going to suck for a little bit.”

  “At least I know I can feel sad,” I said sarcastically. “When Scott left, I ‘got over it’ so fast, I thought I’d turned into a cold-hearted bitch when I wasn’t looking!” I hadn’t even admitted that to myself – that my “recovery” from my divorce had scared me a little.

  Molly laughed on the other end of the line. “Want me to come over? There has to be some horrible reality TV we can watch way too late. You took tomorrow off, right?”

  “I did take it off, and that sounds fan-fucking-tastic! I already ate, though. Better grab yourself something if you’re hungry.”

  “I’ll be over with my two best friends in about twenty minutes – Ben, and his buddy Jerry. They will be all dressed up in chocolate fudge brownie chunks tonight – “

  “Waaaaait a minute,” I cut her off, “is this break-up ice cream? Because I am not eating break-up ice cream, goddamnit.”

  “Nooooo. No freakin’ way. This is Molly’s PMS ice cream, that she is kind enough to share with her BFF.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “You’re awesome, you know that?”

  “I do know that.”

  “See you in a few.”

  We hung up, and I got on my favorite comfy PJs. When Molly got there, we found a marathon of some horrible “real housewives” show, and made fun of it for a couple of hours. Too tired to drive, Molly crashed on my couch.

  “This is like a sleepover!” I said. “We could have been doing this all summer, since you don’t have to work!”

  “OK,” yawned Molly from the couch, “next time, I’ll bring nail polish,” she said sleepily. “Holy crap, it’s late…”

  I chuckled under my breath. “It’s ten-thirty. We are soooo old.”

  “‘Night, Lyssa.”

  “‘Night, Molly.”

  I expected to toss and turn, but Molly had been the balm for an open wound. And I really was physically exhausted from Aaron and my sexaerobics. I barely remembered to turn off my alarm before crashing out.

  I woke around six am – late for me – disoriented from a strange dream. But not about Aaron – I had dreamt about Matthew. In my dream, I finally saw what was under that tight black t-shirt, and it was magnificent. I actually blushed a little, almost embarrassed at having such a vivid sex dream about someone I’d met once.

  The smell of coffee pulled me out into the kitchen, where Molly was drinking a cup and reading the news on her phone. Molly is no more a morning person than I am, so I got myself a cup and joined her at the table, flipping open my laptop and not striking up a conversation.

  I could tell Molly was a little concerned when she managed to ask: “How’d you sleep?”

  I shrugged. “Great, actually. Aaron did wear me out. And all those real housewives helped my mind change gears,” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I did have a weird sex dream, though.”

  “This surprises you?”

  “It was about Matthew.”

  Molly almost spit out her coffee. “I knew it! I knew you were holding out on me. What happened Sunday?!”

  “Nothing, Molly! I told you the truth!” I said a little indignantly.

  “Sorry,” Molly said sheepishly. “My memories of that night are hazy, but the heat between the two of you was… memorable.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, Lyssa. J.J. said Matthew couldn’t take his eyes off you.” I shifted again, even more uncomfortable. “Have you seen him again?”

  “No, I haven’t. Why would I?”

  Molly shrugged. “Well, Matthew’s new in town. It’s only reasonable that he’d drop by an old friend’s office…”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Molly, what did you do?”

  “Nothing! I swear! I just… I thought he’d stop by. That’s all.” When I kept glaring at her, she finally added, “It just seemed like a reasonable, rational thing to do, you know? Meet a hot, single woman, stop by her work. I don’t know!” I laughed as she floundered and waved her
hand dismissively.

  “All right. Now down to brass tacks: tell me what you know about Matthew.”

  Molly settled into her chair, cradling her coffee cup. “From what you told me about your conversation Sunday night, it sounds like you know more about him than I do.”

  “Robert never talks about him?”

  “Please!” she rolled her eyes. “You know Robert. Not much of a talker. I’ve met Matthew a couple of times, when he came to town for vacation. He and Robert would grab a beer or a bite. Alan loves him, though. I do know that. Matthew and Robert were really tight in school. When Robert came out, Matthew acted like nothing had happened. He was one of the few people who weren’t uncomfortable around Robert after that. And I know Matthew has sent Robert business over the years.”

  “Well, that was about as exciting as reading the financial pages,” I said dryly.

  “What? You know Robert. He doesn’t talk about his friends,” she repeated. “But,” she leaned forward, “I can tell you what company he used to work for: Inlay Systems.”

  I felt my jaw drop. The “start-up” Matthew had referred to was now one of the biggest computer companies in the world. “He… he mentioned that he’d worked for a start-up, then just… just quit…” I said somewhat dazed.

  “Yeah,” Molly nodded. “Matthew is stinking rich, Lyssa.”

  I sat back, stunned. I didn’t care about that, and Molly knew I didn’t. It was just shocking to realize that Matthew was in that stratosphere of successful people.

  “You know what, though, Lyssa, the fact that Robert’s been friends with him for so long says a lot about someone, in my book.”

  “That it does,” I agreed. I shook my head, trying to clear it of my amazement. “So! What do you want to do today? On my day off?”

  “Let’s go to the beach!” Molly squealed.