Use Me (Caldwell Brothers)

“You mind if I shower first?”

“By all means, go ahead. I’m in nine twenty-four.”

“Interesting. I’m right across the hall.”

Once inside my apartment, I leaned against the door, seeking the contrast of the cool metal against my heated flesh.

“Jonathon,” I said out loud, finding myself getting turned on by just the sound of his name as it slipped past my lips.

I covered said lips as I imagined how he would kiss me.

His lips would be soft against mine, like a satin pillowcase. They would be moist, (no that’s gross) wet and coveting. He would control the kiss completely, taking away the burden and pressure I would feel, wanting to deliver the most amazing kiss possible, because I would want him to need more.

I looked around my little apartment. It was tidy since I didn’t have much. Just a few pictures of me and... him.

I wondered for a moment if it would leave Jonathon with the impression that I was married or in a relationship. I wasn’t. And I hadn’t been in many years. I hadn’t even wanted to be in a man’s arms, not until I saw Jonathon.

I questioned if it was a relationship I desired or a man to make me feel like a woman again.

Relationships were complicated. People got hurt. Men and women wanted two different things. We wanted hearts and flowers. They wanted sex and the physicality involved, or that was what we thought, anyway.

By we, I meant women who believe that all endings should be happy, and that if they weren’t, we would live each day wishing for a different ending.

I had learned that it was not true about me. I knew there was a beginning, a middle, and an end to each person’s interpersonal story. I knew that life was full of those relationships, all making up chapters in my book that was life.

I decided on the latter.

Would Jonathon be another chapter?

I certainly hoped so.

I finally pushed myself off the cold, metal door and quickly walked around, tidying up the place. I found myself placing flowers and figurines in front of the pictures, preferring not to have those awkward conversations if it could be avoided, yet I wouldn’t hide my past. It was that who had made me who I was today.

Coffee. I giggled to myself, and then thought it was much more convenient than asking for sugar. Or, in my case, offering it.

I stopped in front of the mirror and looked at myself, remembering I had also been at the gym and a shower might be a good idea for me as well.

I didn’t have time to do my hair, so I simply scrubbed my body and swiped the razor over my legs, armpits, and between my legs. Every skin follicle seems to come alive with every sensation, every bead of water, and every touch. My need for this man only grew as I readied myself for his arrival.

While toweling off, I felt silly. He probably wasn’t interested in anything but my coffee beans.

Then I cringe at the thought of having just shaved my pubic area. If things got steamy, would he wonder if I had prepared for him? Or would he think I was a woman who was overtly sexual and had been with man after man after man?

I pondered the idea that it might be what a man like him wanted—a woman who was that sexual, who thought more like a man than a woman when it came to her sexuality. He wouldn’t be completely wrong in that thinking.

Sex was sex. It was physical. It was an exchange, a connection, a release.

I was a smart woman. I knew that a man didn’t fall in love with a woman for her body’s ability to please him. He fell in love with a woman whom he respected, and one who could stimulate him mentally as well as physically. He fell in love with a woman because he needed her in his life, not because he liked her in his bed. He fell in love with a woman because she would take a bullet for him.

When I heard a knock on the door, I quickly pulled the clip out of my hair and threw on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt.

I opened the door to find him standing there, freshly showered and smelling of man and soap.

I opened the door wider and invited him in.

“Let me grab you that coffee,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ears as I turned around.

In the kitchen, I reached up to the top shelf of the cupboard and pulled down the bag of coffee beans, and then turned to grab a baggy to put some in for him to take.

But I couldn’t turn. His hands were gripping the counter top, caging me in.

I felt my entire body buzz at just the knowledge that he was so close and seemed so... alpha.