His For More Than One Night

“Me too. She deserved better than what she got. She never believed it, though, and that’s what makes it the saddest thing of all. When she died, she deserved to have someone who loved her at her side. It was breast cancer. I was sure she was young and strong enough to fight it. Only she didn’t want to fight. It was as if it was a welcome end. She even stopped doing chemo after only a few months, nothing I or anyone said seemed to get through to her. Dignity was her excuse, but it was painful, damned painful. Only seven months in, it spread to her liver and she was dead two months later. By the time she died, I was so damned relieved.

In the beginning, I cared about her, I did. I thought she was kind, a good person, and she had a nice smile. Those were the only things I could think of when I tried to write the damn eulogy. Three years I thought I knew the woman, married for four years, and all I could come up with was ‘kind and nice smile’ because there was nothing else I could say.

What made it worse was the way everyone else believed it was a great love story for the ages, cut too short. I took to spending all my time in the office, because I couldn’t stand to be at home. Her stuff was everywhere, and I felt it was too soon to get rid of it. You are a very good study of human beings. I went to my yearly physical and my doctor was concerned. My numbers weren’t good. I didn’t have a gut yet, but if I didn’t get moving I would from all the takeout and stuff I ate on the run.

So I laced up my shoes and went for a jog, it made things worse. My mind now had more time to think about all the wrongs I had done and the shit I had fucked up and, to be completely honest, my resentment of her. I figure a change of scene would be good and head to a gym, a television, people-watching, but it doesn’t help. Then I noticed the gym rats, as you call them. Their focus was intense. They have to count and hold; their mind wasn’t allowed to wander or they could fuck something up. I wandered over and a trainer on staff followed me, knowing I had no idea what I was doing. He talked me through it, and it was exactly what I needed. I’ve been at it ever since.”

“So the next doctor’s appointment went much better.” I’m desperate to lighten the mood.

Shaking his head, his laugh is dark. “Actually, it went worse. My workaholic ways were so bad the man called my damn father. He’s been our family doctor for over twenty years, so damn privacy rules. My father talks to my mother and she knows the buttons to push. So now I’m pulling back on work and I was thinking I didn’t have to hit the gym so hard, but if you like it so much, then I would hate to disappoint you.”

I laugh. I like knowing his mother is important enough to him that he’s willing to change for her concern. “Don’t do anything on my account. Your body is beautiful. Even losing some muscle you would be impressive, and you know it. I remember looking at you thinking no way, too beautiful, too into his looks, he’ll be a disaster in bed. I’m glad I was wrong.”

“Hmm, considering that was the best blowjob I’ve ever had, then it’s good to know I don’t disappoint. Now it’s my turn to taste you. The scent of you makes me fucking nuts. Before I wear you out again tonight, do you have to work tomorrow?”

“No, I’m off tomorrow and the day after.”

“Good to know. I wanted an early day tomorrow. I’ll keep my schedule clear.”

I ignore the voice that wants to protest this will never work. Yet at the idea of never feeling again the way he makes me feel I know it it’s something I don’t want to give up. And that’s the only thing that really matters. For years I’ve locked away the part of me that felt anything for anyone, because it was safer. How I have managed to feel anything for Trey, besides sexual hunger, should be scary, but it isn’t. I’m not even sure exactly what is I feel. I just know being in his arms makes feel safe and happy in a way I’ve never known before. Hearing his voice is soothing, and the feel of him against my body makes me tremble. For now I can’t explain why he makes me the way I do and I probably wouldn’t know the words anyway. Day by day. Just take it day by day. When he lifts me up and positions me over his mouth, I sink down and close my eyes as he takes me to heaven all over again.

Chapter Six

The next day, I’m picking up my dry cleaning when Trey calls me. “Hi.”

“Hey, I’m cutting out very early. Have you had lunch yet?”

“No, I had a bowl of cereal hours ago, so lunch sounds good now.”

“Good. There are quite a few places around you. What sounds good to you?”

“Hmm, there’s a good Italian place a few blocks up from me on Broadway. I’ll drop off my dry cleaning and head over and get us a table.”

“I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

Slipping my phone in my purse, I tell myself to wipe the grin off my face, I can’t. I love he took the time to call me. Texting has always annoyed me. He knows because last night he looked through my phone, brazenly checking to see if I had started to write him a text. I saw I hadn’t, but had called his number twice before chickening out and ending it before it had connected. I got a reward for that, a very long and enthusiastic reward.

He called me when he left this morning, grumbling he had the hardest time leaving me without waking me up. Laughing, I thanked him, considering how late he’d kept me up last night. I promised him a reward, and he warned me that he was going to hold me to it.

It was a relief that last night he kept the conversation light, but he was adamant about keeping a conversation going. His questions were almost constant, all the common questions of favorite color, flower, and food. Then he noticed the books everywhere and made me tell him my top ten and why. He asked me about my favorite places in the city, and he shared his favorites, and we shared more than a few, which was nice to know. He was a people watcher too, and his mimicking of people was hilarious. Last night was nice, but I’m not stupid enough to think he’ll let the conversations remain light. Even though my stomach flips at the idea of talking more about my past, it’s an automatic response, mainly just fr

om about thinking about it. I have no fear Trey will push me away or be grossed out by me or my past. He wouldn’t have stayed the first night if it bothered him.

I hang up my clothes and look down at the jeans and light top I’m wearing, and decide to change into a pair of black capris. Instead of sandals, I dress up the outfit with black ballet flats. While it’s a late July day, it rained yesterday and it’s nice outside. This morning, I put my hair up in a bun, and now all I do is let it down and puff it out a little, and it curls nicely down my back. Adding a light lipstick the face in the mirror glows with excitement. Am I really having a lunch date? are the words floating around in my head, over and over. I haven’t been on a date in over seven years, since I figured out I wasn’t built for a relationship and didn’t really want one. After that it was vibrators, and then the pickups started. There was never a part of me that thought I was missing anything, and even though I don’t regret it, it is nice to feel the buzz of excitement at the thought of being out with Trey.

I’m at the restaurant before him, and the hostess seats me immediately and hands me a menu. Thanking her, I take it but don’t look through it. I already know what I want. They make the best mushroom risotto in the city.

Watching the door, I see Trey come through it, and I’m not the only woman who notices him. Women are looking at him like he’s an ice cream cone on a hot July day, he ignores them all. His eyes meet mine and hold. He smiles, wide and open, not hiding his pleasure at seeing me. My chest is tight at the sight of openness, knowing soon he’ll want the same thing from me. Then he’s beside me, and he leans down and kisses me as if he didn’t just leave me less than six hours ago, as if it’s been months.

His kiss is demanding, and I don’t dare refuse him the response he wants. I’m breathless before he lets me go, and it takes a moment for the haze of desire to wear off. When I look up, he’s smug and smiling. My hand is in his and his grip is tight. “I’m trying to remember you’re hungry for food, because seeing you only makes me hungry for the taste of your sweet—”

The waitress comes up to the table, and he stops with a smile as I blush at his words. He didn’t lower his voice, and his graphic words are clear to the waitress, who eyes us knowingly.

“Can I get you anything now while you look over the menu, sir?”

“Anything you want, Kate. Wine?”

“Just a sparkling water is fine. I’m not one for wine.”