S.E.C.R.E.T. Revealed (Secret 3)

“Good,” he replied.

“Good!” I said. “See you at the Mansion at eight.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“We arrive separately. My call time’s earlier.”

“Good. Right,” he said. “You’re the trainer.”

“I am.”

We were like that for the days leading up to that night—curt, polite. But when I finally told Jesse over a greasy dinner at Coop’s, he visibly squirmed in his chair.

“Why’s it gotta be you?” he said, dragging his restless hands to his temples.

“No one else wanted to. And besides, it’s just sex, Jesse.”

“Sex with your ex. I know a bit of what that’s like.”

I began to pick at his fries. I wondered if other owners of fine dining establishments craved diner fare or cheap takeout on nights off.

“It’s not like it’ll be our first trip to the rodeo, Jesse. Besides, I’m just going to give him a few pointers.”

“What’s the scenario?”

“I don’t know yet. I find out tomorrow. But you know I can’t tell you. Discretion, remember.”

Funny to think that I’d once had no sex life. And even the one I had with my husband was almost nonexistent. Now, sex was a big part of my life. I guess that was progress. I guess that was the point of all this. I shook off my shoe. Then, discreetly under the table, I lifted my foot to rest between Jesse’s legs. He adjusted it so my toes curled over his zipper. On cue, I could feel him get hard.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said, signaling for the bill.

We drove to my place, both of us silent. By the time we reached the door to my apartment, my shirt was shoved up, my bra askew. Inside, he closed the door and turned me around, lowering me to my hands and knees, while he wrestled his jeans down. Once, twice, I tried to turn around to face him, but he resisted, preferring to take me like that, bent and arched, my knees on the hardwood, my hands clutching the fringe of the area rug, pulling it towards me as I felt his mouth exploring all my darkest places, his fingers digging into me. He was growling and impatient, furious at the condom interruption, and then at my excoriations for him to be quiet, to slow down, to let me turn around.

“The sisters,” I whispered, “they can hear us.”

“Fuck the sisters,” he hissed.

“Stop. My knee. Wait,” I said, the moment bursting like a pricked balloon.

He stopped, exhaling loudly before collapsing onto the floor next to me.

“What are we doing?” he said, the palms of his hands pressing into his eye sockets.

I rolled onto my back, my jeans and panties still wrapped around one of my ankles, my shirt still shoved up. I had never really seen the ceiling from this angle. Was I looking at new cracks, or had those been there the whole time and I just hadn’t noticed them before?

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe this part of our relationship … maybe it’s done.”

He rolled onto an elbow to look at me, his eyes smiling.

“I think you might be right.”

“What do you think happened?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, we had something, didn’t we?”

“We did. We do. But maybe it’s not enough to conquer what we had … with other people,” he said, caressing my face.

He was talking about Will without really talking about Will. I had no reply. Funny, when things run their course there’s no fight left, no questions unanswered, no resentments. There was just this lovely release.

He pulled on his jeans and did up his belt, crouching down in front of me so our eyes were even.