It had been a difficult week. For more reasons than I care to mention, I had been trying to forget it since Friday night. I emptied the last of the moscato into my wine glass as I shuffled through the first of several stacks of briefing notes that would be due in the morning. I remember the annoyance, tensing my shoulders as I tried to let the essential aromatherapy oil melt away at my stress. Closing my eyes, I leaned back into the chaise lounge beside my desk and grabbed at my iphone. The stress clenched my neck muscles as I muddled through my emails from work.
That’s until I saw that I had a new email message, from Her.
I sat up slowly when I clicked on her name and felt a familiar excitement. I could feel a smile trying to pinch at the corner of my mouth as I fell softly into a nostalgic place. She was good, it had been awhile, she was thinking of me, wanted to say hi etc… I let my eyes run over updates about her pet, her marriage and her happy life. I swallowed the resentment that tried to crawl up the back of my throat like nausea and silenced the residual bitterness that I was able to forget about until moments like this.
The last paragraph let me know that she would be in the city tonight; she was organizing another one of those community functions and wanted to know if she could meet me for a drink. I forced the swallow down my throat and felt the wave of excited relief wash over me as my memories crept from the corners of my mind, like ghosts. She had messaged me. She wanted a drink.
I reached for my wine and forced myself to place my phone back down and think before responding. If it had been any other of those women flashing notifications in my personal email, it would have gone easily ignored underneath the priorities of work pending for me the next day, but it wasn’t. I still don’t know what it is about her that made me forget myself entirely, but that’s what she does.
I gathered my documents and pushed them into their respective folders and pushed closed my desk drawers. Court wouldn’t be until 10am. Sleep was for the weak anyway, I thought as I continued to clear my work away. My body tingled with muscle memory of the orgasm she had last left me with. I still remember the contrasted emotions I felt, still shivering with the aftershocks and feeling a low level anxiety of helplessness as she slid each leg back into her thong. Her phone had rang while my tongue was inside of her and she still had gotten up to answer it. I remember vowing to myself while I watched her rush around my condo, getting her things prepared so that she could run away from me, I remember thinking, I’ll never let her do this to me again. I didn’t move when she kissed me goodbye, didn’t respond to her the next day either. That was 8 months ago. Sure there had been others since her but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t recreate what I felt with her.
I grabbed my phone off of the table and responded to my weakness, we would meet for drinks. At our old spot in an hour. Leaving the study I aimed the remote at my ipod speaker and put on her favourite playlist. We had laughed about it when I created it, she knew how I felt about relationships, yet this playlist was everything to the contrary. I had shrugged away her inquiries, knowing full well that I would never tell her that the words in these songs was everything that I could not and would not, ever tell her.
I closed the door to the study, mentally filing away the work I had to do and tossed the phone on the couch and headed down the hallway towards my room. I slowed down my stride long enough to glance at the rainbow stretching through the entire skyline outside my window. I shook my head in awe as I watched the clouds stir softly, framing the sunset. I felt happy as I shook my hair out of its messy ponytail and followed the sunset down the hall. A year later and I still marvel at the view.
An hour and a half later I sat in the booth at Joey’s, glancing every so often out the window at Dundas Square as the events wrapped up. I saw her walking as soon as I got here, but I had already been prepared to wait. Instead I watched her work, moving in and out of crowds, being tapped on the shoulder by her staff. Still young, talented and ambitious. She enjoyed her work and it showed. I frowned to myself remembering more than one night with her crying on my balcony with a drink in her hand, more than one occasion, feeling unsupported to do what she loved. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, feeling the urge to throw back my drink and go back home to the hours of work waiting for me. I didn’t get up though, instead I ordered another drink.
Her text let me know she had seen me too and would be there in 5.
Impatiently, I waited.
Her five was more like ten as I watched her enter the restaurant and smile in my direction. It felt like no time had gone by at all. I returned her smile as I took in her uniform, an adidas tracksuit and large hoop earrings. I expected that she would perform in addition to organizing the event she spoke about. She could never stay away from the stage, it seemed to always call her back, no matter what she tried to do to the contrary. I was glad for her that she was no longer fighting against the woman that she truly was. She even looked more comfortable in her own skin. She joked that even outside of the office I looked ready for court. I glanced down self-consciously before dismissing her joke as just that. She fell into my arms in a hug that neither one of us wanted to let go. We did though. She had changed her fragrance, I noticed. I liked it but was disappointed. I would sometimes pass by the perfume counter during my walk up to the office suites through the Bay and I would spray her favourite scent on a tester stip. Yes, I had missed her.
We didn’t eat and she passed on my offer for a drink, instead opting for a tea. She had me thrown at the awkward request for a meeting for a ‘drink with a friend’ but I ordered her tea and sipped my hennesy on the rocks, following my instincts I silently waited.
She wasted no time. She jumped us back into the past as she apologized for the way things had ended. I shrugged it off and began my disclaimer of having known what I was getting myself into when we had gotten involved. She waved a hand at what we both knew and stopped me to apologize again. Her hand moved across the table to squeeze mine, a gesture that made my chest feel warmer than was comfortable.
I cleared my throat before squeezing and then releasing her hands grasp on mine. “How is your family?” I asked in a voice that sounded more like a statement than a question. She met my eyes and held it as well before losing the staring contest and looking away. She went into the same old spiel, he didn’t understand her, she wasn’t unhappy but she wasn’t happy either. She missed me. I finished my drink and ordered another as I let her talk. She kept wanting to hear me say something but I wasn’t sure what it was, nor did I want to know.
I asked for the cheque more abruptly than I had meant to, in a way that awkwardly silenced the conversation. I paid cash and stood up, not feeling like waiting for the change. She stood too, a disappointment in her eyes. I exhaled deeply before starting to walk away. “You coming?” I asked over my shoulder, not slowing down a step to wait for her to decide.
She moved towards the subway and I shook my head, hailing a cab away from the crowd, for the 10 minute ride back to my home. I looked out the window and frowned at incoming email in my phone as she fidgeted with her necklace, pretending not to be nervous.
Once we were upstairs, she was standoffish at the door, watching me move around, turning on music, dimming lights, opening wine. I walked back up to her, two glasses in my hand, handing her one. This drink she accepted.
“where does he think you are?” I asked.
She stumbled on her words and I let her explain her lie, a moment I usually would have spared us both. She put down her glass. She told me something was off, she didn’t like how ‘this’ was making her feel. I almost laughed at her nerve. “How she felt, how he felt, how the kids would feel.” I shook my head slowly, beginning to feel the effects of the drinks at the bar underneath the wine I was tossing back a little too liberally.
I put down my glass and pulled her towards me. She followed.
On the couch I helped her to relax, I knew there had never been another besides me. I knew why she was here and that she would leave again.
I kissed her neck tenderly, I gave her pressure but not enough to leave a mark. I gave her the intimacy that she was wordlessly complaining about, the part that she was always able to pull from me unlike any other woman before her. I let my tongue slide along her neckline and suck slowly on her earlobe, until I heard it. That soft, almost inaudible, release of breath from her mouth. That first little moan. With Her, her body had always told me exactly what she wanted, even with her inexperience, I didn’t even need for her to express that to me, it was like I had some sort of intuition that was specific to her body, her pussy.
I teased her, made her wait as my hands rubbed at her nipple through her clothing, knowing she wanted me to squeeze them, the way I used to. But, I made her wait. She writhed underneath me as my tongue switched sides, switched tempo as she responded to my touch.
That went on for awhile until she got impatient and pushed me off of her and then down on my own couch. She was here for something specific, and was determined to get it.
I leaned back, impressed with her assertive impulse, something I wasn’t used to, well…not with her anyway. She pushed me back before standing above me and removing her clothes. Naked, waxed, beautiful. She let me look, not unlike the first time. I smiled as my eyes took mental pictures of what I had missed so very much. She asked, as if reading my mind. I didn’t give her the satisfaction and remained silent as she climbed up to her position. Her eyes locked on mine, desperate for something from me that I wouldn’t give her. Instead I broke her gaze and felt my mouth watering as her both familiar and unfamiliar scent hovered over my face, waiting for me to take what we had spent months pretending was mine.
I lost the standoff as I wrapped both arms around each thigh and pushed my lips deep into hers, with my tongue burrowing further than that. I nuzzled my face into her pussy firmly, holding her in place so she couldn’t get away. Her thighs tightened around my face, her hands pulled fistfuls of my freshly relaxed hair as my tongue visited an old friend.
She came fast the first time, my mouth open and willing as I rode the wave of her orgasm, her fingers intertwining with mine, as if she still got scared at the intensity of it all. Her body shook free of it as I felt her start to return to earth, having ascended beyond this place. I wish I understood Spanish as she mumbled what sounded like a prayer as I stirred her slowly, preparing her for another ride.
Music played as she exorcised her demons on my face, rocking back and forth, sometimes looking possessed as she freed what had been laying dormant inside of her for all of this time. The last orgasm was violent; it felt angry as she pushed back against me with a force. I didn’t hold back either, I matched her intensity, holding off my own climax until she leaned down and whispered in my ear that thing that she knew would push me over the top. My body lost its battle and surrendered to the cum, it started from my toes and vibrated up my spine until I couldn’t take it anymore. She held me through it, massaging my face lightly with her fingers, letting me get off on the illusion of our connection, telling me with her eyes and her touch that it was still real.
I felt the stickyness in my jeans and shook my head in astonishment. She was the only woman who could make me cum like that. Without touching me in a sexual way. The energy between us had always been electric since day one. It wasn’t surprising that it was still just as strong. I sat up next to her on the couch, the two of us looking out of the window, gazing at the CN tower lit up in the skyline, sipping wine.
She was the first to get up, gathering her things. I watched her check her phone, frowning, texting. She saw me watching and stepped towards me, wanting a kiss. I denied her that validation and drank my wine instead, my eyes cold against her wounded look. She gathered her things in silence before reaching for her bag and moving towards the door.
“You know, I had hoped for…” she trailed off, glancing towards the bedroom. I shook my head, growing more annoyed with her, with myself by the minute.
“What do you need that for? Don’t you have dick at home? Go and fuck your husband. He actually has one of those remember? It’s attached. Go and get what’s real.”
I walked towards the wall unit and shut off the music. Ignoring her humiliation, her hurt, I waited for her to put her shoes back on.
Usually I paid for her cab fare home, but not tonight. She had gotten what she came for. Hell, maybe she should have been paying me. It was practically a service.
She turned the knob before turning around like she had forgotten something.
“fuck you.” She told me before leaving my home.
“No thanks,” I mumbled to the closed door and fell back into the couch where we had just made violent love. Only neither of us would call it that. I went to pour another drink, her taste was still on my tongue, my fingers. Hell, I’m not sure either one of us really even knew what love is. That concept might be lost on me entirely. But this empty feeling? This anger, which I would turn into insomnia and productivity? This feeling was all too familiar.