It Started with a Kiss

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It Started with a Kiss Page 19

by Lisa Heidke


  When I came to my senses, I called time on our heavy-petting session. I checked my watch. It was just after two o’clock. ‘We have to stop. I have to go home.’

  We walked hand in hand back to my house. I opened the door and he came in with me, softly closing it behind him.

  ‘For old times’ sake?’ he said, as he started caressing my right breast through my T-shirt. We’d already got hot and sweaty at the beach, so it didn’t take much for the tingling sensation to start up again.

  ‘This has to be the last time,’ I said, when we found ourselves in my bedroom with our clothes off. It was wrong, so wrong, but my desire and his obvious arousal was too great to resist.

  He was on top of me, one of his hands gripping mine above my head. I couldn’t move beneath him, yet shivered expectantly at his touch. With his free hand, he found my inner thighs and started stroking as I ground against him.

  ‘I love fucking you, Fri,’ he groaned, before his tongue expertly found my breasts.

  For the next hour, we shut out the world. Nothing else meant anything. It was just the two of us lost in desire, lust and mutual mind-blowing oblivion.

  When it was over and we were lying in each other’s arms, he turned to me. ‘I like you a lot.’

  Speechless, I exhaled until my lungs burnt and I was gasping for breath. ‘But—’

  He held his index finger to my mouth, shushing me. ‘I said I like you a lot.’

  I drew away from him, dragging my sheet with me. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  ‘What?’ he said, trying to pull me back down.

  ‘This. Us. I can’t have you. We both know that and yet here you are taunting me.’

  ‘I’m not taunting you. We’re having fun.’

  ‘But it’s not fun, Blake,’ I said. ‘At least not for me.’ I got out of bed and pulled on a flimsy wrap to cover myself. ‘I’m not some plaything you can use when you get bored to make the day go quicker.’

  His expression softened and he reached over, brushing my arm. ‘I never said you were.’

  I pushed him away. ‘No. I hate this. I hate how crazy you make me feel. I don’t want it.’

  He got out of bed and grabbed me, holding on so tight I had nowhere else to look but into his eyes. ‘Yes. You. Do.’

  He kissed me fiercely on the lips, the force and power of his arms squeezing all air from my lungs for the second time in minutes. Though he could crush me at any moment, I didn’t want him to let me go.

  ‘I really don’t,’ I said, struggling to break free.

  He stared at me. ‘You don’t mean that.’ His words came out in ragged gasps.

  I turned away. ‘Please get dressed and go.’

  Fifteen minutes later, shell-shocked, I watched Blake drive away. Again, he had swept me off my feet. I was mesmerised in his presence, under some kind of insane spell. I honestly hadn’t wanted to do what we’d just done but couldn’t help myself. And when I thought about it like that, well… I knew I sounded silly and completely naive.

  20

  Until the kids arrived home, I moped about, disgusted with myself for having had sex again with Blake. And in my own home. Every so often, I’d shout, ‘Why me? Why me?’ Occasionally, the neighbour’s cat would saunter into the room, glare at me and wander off, no doubt also appalled with my behaviour. Sometimes I hated being a grown-up.

  Three hours later, I zombie-danced through my Zumba class, my mind still sifting through the afternoon’s events. I came to the conclusion midway through one of the routines that there was only so much of Ricky Martin’s music I could stomach at any one time.

  Afterwards, the skinny blonde psychic and I chatted because we were now besties, much to Rosie’s annoyance.

  ‘How’s it going?’ she asked.

  I shrugged. ‘Okay.’ If she was really psychic, she’d have twigged to the horror of my last few hours.

  ‘You’ve just seen him, haven’t you?’

  Okay, so maybe she was psychic!

  ‘Intense, wasn’t it?’

  I nodded, willing myself not to cry.

  ‘Yeah, he’s being difficult. He doesn’t know what he wants so is going to keep popping in and out of your life to try to figure it out.’

  Well, I thought to myself, I wish he’d pop out. Or maybe back in. And then I mentally slapped myself. The out business was good. I wanted him to stay there. Permanently.

  As if reading my mind, she told me that I’d see him again soon.

  I didn’t want to hear that. I needed her to say that it was over and we were done. And then I thought, Why am I investing so much credence in a woman who knows nothing about my life? I had to believe in my own determination and willpower to do the right thing and stay on track for a better life for me. I needed to surround myself with people who were good for me, not those who would cause me more angst.

  ‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘allow yourself to meet your spirit guide and ask her for direction.’

  Rosie, who’d been all ears, looked skyward.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I could use a bit of guidance.’

  She put her hand on my shoulder. ‘For the moment, focus on your kids and work. You’re emotionally drained. You need to get some sort of routine going and clean house.’

  With that, she was off, practically jogging to the car park.

  Rosie and I watched silently as she unlocked her car.

  Sighing, Rosie turned to me and clicked her tongue. ‘Why can’t she see anything about my life? Why can’t I meet up with a past-life love?’

  ‘Jealous?’

  ‘Of course. It’s all nonsense, but if it helps get you through the day, it can’t be all bad.’ We walked to our cars, which were parked side by side. ‘So,’ continued Rosie, ‘spill. Tell me everything. Every detail.’

  I wanted to keep today’s events secret, but being a wimp I needed to download on somebody and Rosie was there. Plus, she was my best friend, so I told her.

  After I’d spoken, it took her several minutes to compose herself.

  ‘Well I’ll be! Aren’t you the little minx?’

  ‘I was,’ I replied, certain I was blushing. ‘But now I’m determined not to see him again. I don’t need the complication.’

  Rosie raised her eyebrows. ‘Keep telling yourself that, love. You might actually start believing it.’

  ‘It’s odd though how Blondie’s latched on to me?’

  ‘Smooth segue. I’ll go along with it for now. Yeah, Blondie’s latched on probably because the rest of us are leading dull lives. You’re the only one who’s got something even slightly interesting going on.’

  ‘Says she who is bedding three men.’

  ‘Oh, it’s four now. I succumbed to Clark Kent. Are we going to talk about Blah anymore?’

  ‘Oh, ha, ha! Blake? No. I don’t want to be someone’s part-time mistress. Actually, do mistresses even exist these days? It’s such an antiquated word. Regardless, I’m better than that.’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed Rosie. ‘Pep talk to self over now?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I know you’re upset,’ Rosie continued. ‘But you also know there can’t be another outcome. Even if he did leave his wife and you had a full-on affair, how could you ever trust him?’

  ‘I couldn’t.’

  ‘Exactly. You’d be worried he’d do the same to you as he’s done to his wife. Fri, you don’t need the heartache. Who knows how many of his penis photos are doing the rounds?’

  What was meant to be one quick drink at the pub turned into several and most of our time was spent with Rosie trying to get me to give KissMeCupid another try. ‘You have another date tomorrow night.’

  ‘No, Rosie. Why would I want to do that again? Allan was a fiasco.’

  ‘Because it’s fun and you need to get out there, get over Blah, and get amongst it.’

  ‘I’ve had more excitement in the past month than I’ve had in years. And don’t call Blake, Blah.’

  ‘KissMeCupid. KissMeCupid. Ki
ssMeCupid,’ Rosie chanted like she hadn’t heard me.

  ‘I know people do the online business, but I just can’t.’

  Rosie held up her wine glass. ‘By people you mean me, don’t you?’

  I grinned.

  ‘How do you know it’s not you if you don’t bloody well try?’

  ‘Because I have tried. Trying any more would be opening up a whole world of trouble for me.’

  ‘What’s the harm? You go back online, check out a few profiles, meet a few guys—’

  ‘Stop!’ I was shaking my head. ‘It’s just wrong. All those guys are just after sex.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘It’s creepy. I can’t take my clothes off again.’

  ‘You don’t seem to have had a problem up to now. Besides, how else are you going to meet anyone?’

  ‘That’s just it. I don’t want to meet anyone, not at the moment.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that. You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.’

  ‘So you keep telling me, but I don’t need to get over anyone.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’

  ‘Can you stop saying that?’ This conversation wasn’t going anywhere. That is to say that it wasn’t going in a satisfactory direction for my liking.

  ‘So then, about Blah, the goat farmer, and previous life hook-up?’

  ‘It’s just nonsense. We both know I was humouring the psychic chick.’

  But for a while, I had believed it could be true… wanted to believe Blake and I had met in a past life and had been reunited in this one. Wishful thinking.

  ‘Wonders will never cease. Now, about KissMeCupid—’

  ‘Can we just drop it?’

  ‘Okay, but methinks the lady doth protest too much.’

  ‘And methinks you are getting mighty annoying. Tell me, how many men have you met on KissMeCupid?’

  ‘Met? As in online and had email contact? I’ve lost count.’

  ‘Men you’ve met face to face?’

  ‘Twenty. Give or take.’

  ‘And now you’re seeing four?’

  ‘Absolutely no more.’

  ‘There’s definitely something not right about you. Where do you find the energy?’

  ‘Oh, I find it, baby. I find it.’

  ‘Hmm. You do always look fresh-faced, despite your addictions and nocturnal activities.’

  ‘That’s because I have a new addiction. A secret weapon.’

  ‘Spill.’

  ‘Can’t. You won’t approve.’

  ‘What’s left for me not to approve?’

  Rosie eyed me shiftily. ‘True. Okay. I’m drinking a slimming tea.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘See. I knew you wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘Of course I don’t. Tell me more.’

  ‘Not too foul and let me say,’ she said, patting my arm, ‘it really cleanses your bowels. I’ve been shitting myself for days. Had to cancel last night’s date because I was too afraid to move more than a metre away from the loo.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing left. Totally cleansed.’

  ‘If you drank the nutritious herbs I’ve prescribed for you in the past, they’d have the same effect, except you wouldn’t need to wear pads in case of a sudden diarrhoea explosion.’

  ‘Pads? Hadn’t thought of that icky option, and truthfully, I’ve had a few close calls.’

  ‘You can’t keep drinking it.’

  ‘Can, too. Looking and feeling good, honey! Do you want me to set you up?’

  The professional me was outraged. ‘Rosie!’ But the private me, the one who was five kilos overweight, wanted to give it a go. Then an image of me having a bathroom emergency in Target flashed through my mind. Dignity? I had so little to play with. I shook my head. ‘No!’

  ‘Rosie, I can’t go on another date,’ I told her the next afternoon over the phone.

  ‘You have to. Rob could be the one.’

  I blew out an exasperated breath. ‘I haven’t even checked out his profile and only vaguely remember his photo. Blond, isn’t he?’

  ‘Blond, six foot and built.’

  ‘I’ve heard that before. They all say they’re six foot. They never are.’

  ‘He’s built.’

  ‘They all say that, too.’

  ‘What’s the problem? You’re meeting in Newport, two minutes down the road.’

  ‘That in itself is a big red flag.’

  ‘Hopeless. You’re never going to meet anyone if you keep putting up these walls.’

  ‘I’m not putting up any walls. I slept with Blake yesterday and it was a mistake.’

  ‘And that was a mistake because he’s a married knob, I think you told me. Have a drink with Rob. See what happens.’

  The last thing I felt like doing was having a drink with a stranger. I shuddered at the thought, but at 6.45, I got dressed and told the girls I was going out.

  ‘With Dad?’ said Evie expectantly.

  ‘Not tonight. Rosie.’

  Olivia looked me up and down. ‘You really need to get some new friends. All you ever do is go out with Rosie, and since when did you start wearing black stilettos with jeans?’

  Blast Liv for being unusually observant tonight.

  ‘Yeah, Mum,’ Evie chimed in.

  ‘Though I’d outlaw that shirt, certainly not an OOTD,’ said Olivia, laughing.

  I glanced down at my orange and white poker-dotted top. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means,’ said Evie, straight-faced, ‘you are wearing an ugly shirt, certainly not an outfit of the day.’

  ‘Right, well I’m not changing.’ Girls! What was wrong with what I was wearing? ‘How about you both finish eating your pizza, stack the dishwasher and then do your homework. Any problems, call me. I won’t be home late.’ With that, I marched out the door and into the garage. With any luck, the date (ugh!) would be horrendous and I’d be home by nine-thirty.

  I walked into the Perky Parrot anticipating another failure. It took mere seconds before I recognised him—and I did recognise him from his photo. He didn’t look like a midget, either.

  ‘Friday? What a lovely surprise, I recognise you from your photo.’

  I laughed. ‘Same here.’ Happy that Rosie had given him my real name via email.

  We sat down and he ordered two glasses of red wine. ‘By the sounds of it, you’ve had a few mishaps like me? People looking ten years older than their photo?’

  I grinned. ‘Something like that.’

  ‘It’s not easy putting yourself out there, but I guess we have to give it our best shot.’

  I relaxed into the conversation. Rob was nice, an easygoing horticulturalist, who had his own business, including a nursery.

  ‘I’ve been there several times. Amazing place,’ I told him. ‘I don’t have much luck with plants, but yours manage to survive at least a season.’

  ‘Good to hear, though I’d prefer that they thrived rather than just survived.’

  I liked Rob. I certainly wasn’t repelled by him like I had been by Allan. Only there wasn’t a spark, either. He was a nice enough guy, but we weren’t about to fall in love. I was very happy about that. We each drank two glasses of wine, ate some cheese and olives then called it a night.

  I crawled into bed at ten-thirty pm, determined to take down my KissMeCupid profile. It’s not like I couldn’t see that the site had merit, it’s just that I didn’t want to get on a treadmill of going out with strangers, repeating my story and having to face potentially troublesome situations. Besides, I knew I was only really going out on the dates to get over my hurt about Blake and my anger at Liam for finding someone else, if in fact he had, like the girls had led me to believe. But distracting myself to feel better wasn’t working. I needed to talk to Liam.

  ‘Hey,’ Liam said, when he answered his phone the next day.

  ‘It’s me. Have you got a minute to talk?’

  He hesitated.
>
  ‘Liam, we really need to talk about our separation. Should I be consulting a lawyer?’

  ‘Why so fast?’

  ‘Because I’m living in limbo hell. I hate not knowing what’s going on.’

  Long silence.

  ‘Liam, are you there? I want to know whether we’re working towards getting back together because, at the moment, it doesn’t feel like it.’ The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. ‘Is there someone else? Is that why you left?’

  ‘No. I never said that.’ Liam’s tone was sharp.

  ‘Well, what are you saying? I need to know.’

  ‘I’m saying I’m still working things through.’

  ‘Great, because it’s all about what you want, isn’t it, Liam? Your needs, your desires?’

  ‘We’re just taking a break,’ he said firmly.

  ‘What does that even mean? You say that, Liam, because it suits you. But you can’t decide “We’re taking a break” or “I’ve had enough of the single life, I’m moving back home.” You can’t decide something and assume I’ll go along with it like I’m your puppet.’

  ‘I never said you were a puppet.’

  ‘Good, because I’m sick of being pulled by your strings. I have my own needs.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means you can’t have it all your own way. I have an equal say in what’s going on with us. You’re not the boss.’

  ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re irrational like this. I have work to do. I’ll speak to you later.’

  I hung up, not knowing what to think. The conversation with Liam had gone nowhere. I was totally fed up, wrung out and exhausted, but the last thing I wanted to do was to sit at home and mope. I’d had enough of feeling miserable.

  ‘Rosie,’ I said, when I heard her voice at the other end of the line. ‘I want to hit the city… have fun.’ It was time to break out—not just see other mums at school, attend Zumba classes and wrangle inebriated women at divorce parties.

  ‘Woo hoo,’ she squealed, forcing me to mentally high-five her. ‘More KissMeCupid?’

  ‘No! I’m done with that. I thought you and I could venture to a groovy inner-city pub, see what happens.’

 

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