I drink the water, take a few sips of the juice and lay back.
I shut my eyes and more memories of last night come back to me.
Bethany opens the door and leads me in. She flicks on the switch of the entryway. Using the dim light she leads me into my room. Guides me to the en suite. “Brush,” she says gently.
Clumsily, with uncoordinated limbs, I brush the best I can. When I come back into the room, she has turned down the covers and pulled the blinds shut.
She walks in with a bottle of water which she hands to me and I gulp down half the contents before returning it to her. Her presence with me in my room seems entirely natural. Strange.
I begin getting out of my clothes but cannot manage. So she helps me out. I am stripped down to my underwear. She turns to the closet clearly looking for my sleepwear. But I keep my sleepwear and lingerie in the chest of drawers.
I move to her and press myself into her from behind, wrapping my arms around her waist. This feels good. It feels like nothing I have experienced before.
She is soft, but her lean torso is firm. She is steel wrapped in silk. I remember she was into martial arts in high school. I feel jolts of excitement pulsing through me when I touch her.
I hear her let out a sound of shock when she feels my arms snaking around her and pulling her into me even as I am pressing myself into her.
“Kat, what are you doing?” she says.
I turn her around and put my arms around her shoulders. Seemingly involuntarily, she arms encircle my waist.
The feel of our bodies pressing together is intoxicating. She is slightly taller than me. Maybe 5’6” to my 5’4”.
I go up on my toes and press my lips to hers. I kiss her. For some glorious moments she kisses me back and I am tingling all over.
Too soon, she pulls away and steps back, putting some space between us.
“Kat, no. Let’s get you into your pjs. You need sleep.”
“What I need is you,” I say taking off my bra and pressing back into her. I pull her head back down and kiss her again. I lick her lips and she groans.
“Kiss me. Beth,” I whisper, “Don’t you want to?”
“Oh! I do…but not like this,” she sounds tortured.
“You don’t think I am attractive?” I ask, taking her hand and placing it on my breast. Unconsciously, she caresses my breast and in less than a blink, my nipples are hard. And I am wet. I am so turned on without any foreplay that I can’t believe it myself.
“I think you’re the most attractive women I’ve ever seen, Kat…but right now you got to go to bed.”
“Come with me,” I purr. Seriously, this is not me. This sex kitten is who I want to be in my most secret fantasies, but I have never been able to actually do something like this.
I climb her and wrap my legs around her. I tangle my hands into her hair and bend down and kiss her again. She walks us blindly to the bed and gently lowers me to it. I try to pull her down with me, on me, but she is prepared and I cannot move her.
She helps me straighten out and lie with my head on the pillow. She pulls the covers over me.
As she makes to get up, I hold her hand firmly. “Stay with me tonight, Beth…please.”
I see the struggle on her face, but she relents. “Okay.”
She removes her pants but keeps her shirt on and slips under the covers with me. I have removed my panties and thrown them away.
As soon as she lies down, I move into her and place my head on her shoulder. She stretches her arm out so that I can scoot into the crook of her neck.
I place kisses on her neck, jawline, trace her ears with my tongue. I can feel her skin coming alive under my touch…and hell! If that isn’t one huge turn on!
She pushes me gently by my shoulder. “Kat, behave,” she admonishes.
I pout. “Okay,” I say placatingly, “but only if…” I grab her other hand and put it between my legs, “…you promise to hold me,” I smirk and lick her lips again. She places a small kiss on my lips…and I am out.
Just like that.
My face is flaming with mortification as the lurid details of last night come back. I groan loudly and heavily.
I turn and hide my face in the pillow. What have I done? Did I really do all that? And after all that, she has still been taking care of me today?
How am I going to face her today…and there is no doubt that I will have to face her today. She is going to be here.
Will she think that I am into women? Last night was an anomaly. How can I explain to her that I am straight but wasn’t thinking straight because of the shock I’d just received and the alcohol I’d imbibed?
She was in a gay bar, so it logically follows that she is gay. And I hit on her. Worse, I threw myself at her over and over again.
Lord! I practically I begged her to fuck me. Was there any way I could possibly have made a bigger mess?
I try to shut it all out and fall into a coma-like stupor again, but all I do is toss and turn.
I am so not ready to face this day.
******
I finally get out of bed. I pull out a long t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties and cover myself with clothes. I brush my teeth, wash my face and coil up my hair into a messy bun before walking out of the room tentatively.
I know that the odds of Bethany being there are in the living room are very high. I need to thank her and apologise to her. I need to talk to her. I am petrified of seeing her.
Sure enough, she is lying on the sofa reading. Her black track pant-clad legs are dangling over the arm. She sits up when she hears me coming out, her head and shoulders popping up over the back of the sofa.
“Good morning, sunshine,” she chirrups with a smile.
I try to smile back and fail miserably. I try to respond but all that comes out is a grunt.
“Feeling great, I can see,” she grins.
I walk over to the sofa and she scoots over to one side. I sit at the other end. I put my head back on the back, shut my eyes and make a noise.
Her brightness is just too much to take. I can’t handle it with my hangover plus my horrible, horrible feeling about myself.
“Please, not so chipper,” I mumble.
“Not a drinker, are we?”
“I get high if I drink cola too fast,” I admit.
“How are you feeling?” she asks seriously. I hear her get up and move towards the kitchen. My living room and kitchen are open plan with a high granite bar/table island dividing the two.
“I’ve been better,” I’m still mumbling, but at least I am stringing words together and saying stuff back to her instead of just Neanderthal noises.
“Here, have this.”
I open my eyes and she is standing in front of me holding out a tall glass of…something.
“What’s it?” I ask taking it. No matter what it is, I know she knows what she is doing.
“Banana smoothie,” she says, settling back into her end of the sofa.
I drink the smoothie and feel my insides setting down more and more. Each sip seems to be infusing me with a shot of clarity and coherence. I’m not sure I like that because it means that I will have to bring up last night. Clearly, Beth is not going to mention it. She is being so considerate. So sensitive. It is the strangest feeling for me to receive this caring.
Besides the two losers that I was involved with, my mother was son-obsessed reserving all her affection and caring for my brother and my father was self-obsessed. Which made me a largely neglected child. Sadly, it also made me all sorts of needy and clingy.
When my need to be important to someone was not met, I built walls of self-sufficiency. So, basically, I am all sorts of confounded and confounding confusion. I am needy but keep an emotional distance. I am clingy but seem to be completely self-sufficient. I am…okay, I am mentally deflecting and avoiding the elephant in the room.
I look at Beth. She seems perfectly relaxed all curled up in her corner, facing me. Though she is not all that much ta
ller than me, she is built long. That is the only way to describe it. Long limbs, long torso…she appears at least 5’9” but I know for a fact she isn’t. In fact, after last night, I definitely know she’s just a little bit taller than me.
Last night…oh God!
I clear my throat. “So, Beth…about last night…” I start. I have never been great at prevaricating, at not going straight for the heart of the matter. I have no patience with dancing around topics and it grates my nerves when folks do that. “I seem to have behaved inappropriately with you,” I colour up to beet, “very inappropriately.”
“Was that when you were gifting me your car?” she says teasingly.
“Did I?” I’m surprised. I love that car. She laughs throatily. Wow! That sound is all sorts of sexy.
I am thrown by that thought. I cannot hold eye contact and look away self-consciously. Hormones, behave! “Umm…no…you know, later…after you go me home…”
“Kat, look at me,” she says. I look at her from the corner of my eyes. “No, Kat…seriously look at me.” I turn towards her. I know I am still blushing. “Last night is forgotten…okay? As far as I am concerned, it never happened. Not one more thought about it, understand?” she says gently, but firmly, her eyes shining sincerity.
My throat catches. I look down. I look at her through my lashes. “I…ummm…I’m sorry for what I did,” I choke.
“Water under the bridge, Kat. Drop it.”
I feel compelled to explain. “Last night my fiancé broke up with me…over a call,” the words barely make past the lump in my throat. Saying it out loud makes it so much more final. “It happened right outside that bar and all I could think of was getting drunk. Which is why I was there.”
Way to go, Kat. Make sure she knows you’re straight. Make sure that she knows you were throwing yourself at the nearest warm body.
Have I conveyed that I wasn’t gay clearly enough? I wasn’t gay, right…despite how my body seems to be reacting to Beth?
“We were to get married next week,” I choke and start crying.
The next thing I know is that I am curled up in Beth’s arms, shuddering and sobbing into her chest as she rubs my back soothingly. Before I know it, I am spilling details of my sorry love life to Beth.
******
Rick was the archetypal clean-cut good boy. He was an unusual combination of being the baseball hero and he also topped academics. I played softball and was in the swim team besides being the student president. So we were together often.
Our relationship bloomed with indulgent pushes from all sides.
After high school, we both joined the same college. I was studying liberal arts and he was doing all the necessary subjects to get into supply chain management.
His family had a successful logistics company and he intended heading it in the near future. We both did accelerated programs and earned our Bachelors’ degrees in two years.
We moved in together as soon as we got our degrees at the end of the two years. Initially we rented a small one-bedroom apartment.
I joined a school as a teaching assistant and continued to studies for my Masters in Creative Writing.
Rick joined his father company and joined an MBA program with the intention to specialise in Supply Chain Management.
Six months later we were married. I am not sure we ever did that ‘crazy in love’ thing, but it was all moving as per expectations and we were going with the flow.
Every once in a while, when I read romances or watched romantic movies, I felt a twinge and wondered whether I was missing out. Then, I’d see the steadiness of my life and zone back to being fine.
Four and a half years after we were married, we were divorced because Rick the Prick just couldn’t keep it in his pants.
That was the end of one chapter of my life after ten years of having been together.
I mourned the divorce like death. It took me four years to even begin dating again.
In the meanwhile, I had continued studies and had earned various certifications, including an MBA in Finance. I am now a fairly successful business and finance analyst working with, Franklin Financials, one of the top three consultancy firms of the country.
I’d bought this two-bedroom house in a peaceful, middle-class suburb.
I met David at a New Years’ office party. He was one of our clients. He was all dark haired where Rick the Sick had been all blond.
The first time David asked me out I said no. Ditto the second and third times. Then somehow, he seemed to show up in all our office parties and outings; in parties thrown by my colleagues – he could well have been a part of my office for the number of people he knew and the number of people who seemed to invite him.
He sought me out each time for a drink, a chat, a dance…and six months later when I asked me out again, I went.
We seemed to be a good fit with rare arguments or fights. I introduced him to my parents a year later.
He never took me home because you see, David came from one of those filthy rich orthodox Jewish families and as an agnostic Spaniard, I just wasn’t kosher enough.
Finally, three months back, I wondered aloud just where we were going after having been together for almost eight years.
There was no real proposal, but it was understood that we had agreed to get married.
I again wondered how that whole crazy-romance train completely missed me. Was it something about me that was essentially unlovable? Did I not inspire passion? Was I just too staid and boring?
TurdMaster David never did make me meet his parents. We were getting married in court. We’d applied for the license and got it.
He wasn’t even comfortable with me calling my friends or family. So the only witnesses would be the clerk in the court. It was all very cloak-and-dagger, but I wanted to be married, so I went along.
******
“Is it so bad to want to be a part of a couple? Of a relationship?” I hiccup and look up at Beth. She is still holding me.
“Shhh…you’re fine, Kat,” she says, her husky voice soft. “You are going to find someone who cherishes every breath you take…who treasures every look they get from you…who values you.”
I listen, mesmerised by this idea of love. Yes, I want that. Does it even exist?
As if hearing my thoughts, Beth continues, “That love is there and it is waiting for you. Just believe in it and believe that you deserve it.” She chastely kisses my forehead and much to my shock, I recall the feel of her lips on mine. The liquid electricity that had passed through me in the moments when she had responded to me last night. I am uncomfortable at the turn my thoughts have taken and I sit up and move slightly away.
Helpfully, my tummy rumbles right then. “Hungry?” she asks, smiling.
“Can I be hungry but not be able to stand the sight of or the thought of food at the same time?”
She chuckles and gets up. How is it that she knows my kitchen better than me? How is it that the house feels like home with her moving around in it? Stop right now, Kat!
She brings me a couple of slices of toast, clear vegetable soup and more coconut water.
******
We eat and do a marathon of kiddies’ animation movies. We talk about books and movies in between but are happy enough to mostly watch the movies quietly.
For dinner, I throw together some pasta and vegetables, and a small salad. My stomach and head have settled enough for this food at least. We skip wine and stick to orange juice and water.
We make plans to go to a flea market and then to a world garment fair the next day.
Thank God for Beth and her generosity…I won’t have time to get into a bad place this weekend.
I walk Beth to the door. Suddenly, I don’t want her to go. I don’t want to be alone.
Without thinking, I reach out and grab her hand. She stops and turns to me, eyebrows raised in question. I am at a loss. I can’t form the words to ask her to stay.
I mentally shrug and step closer to hu
g her as if that was my intention all along.
Yeah, a hug to thank her for taking care of me and to say bye. It is appropriate, right? Given all that she has done for me.
I hug her and she wraps her arms around me. I am overcome with a feeling of being protected. Of warmth. Of security. I never want her to let me go.
She steps back. There is a look on her face like she is suppressing words. Like she is schooling her features to make sure that her expression is in control. But her eyes are speaking volumes and volumes. Just that I am not able to read what they are saying.
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