Him Page 6

  * * *

  He and I put on thick terrycloth robes while we waited for room service to bring us breakfast. Once it arrived we sat out on the balcony. After we finished, we began getting ready to leave. I put on my jeans and a sweater then sat on the bed watching HIM put the last of his belongings into an overnight bag. I was beginning to realise that in just a couple of hours he’d be gone. I’d be back at my duplex without HIM. HIM. I was overcome by sadness.

  He came over to the bed and sat next to me.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Is what?’

  ‘You look really sad.’

  I leaned into HIM. ‘I just want to stay here longer. I don’t want to go home.’

  ‘Yes. I know. I feel the same way. But listen, there will be other times, trust me.’

  I sighed and stood up.

  ‘OK, let’s go. Thanks for the lovely weekend.’

  He also stood up and took me into his arms. ‘You have no idea how amazing it is to be with you,’ he said.

  ‘No. I do know. I do.’

  ‘No other woman has ever let me take her this far,’ he said. ‘Every time I see you, you let me take you even a little bit further. You have no idea what it feels like as a man to be with a woman who is so open sexually. It’s so amazing.’

  I kissed HIM passionately before we gathered our suitcases and headed back to his car.

  10

  Sexting …

  We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.

  Tennessee Williams, The Milk Train Doesn’t Stop Here Anymore

  We drove back to my duplex in silence.

  When he got off the freeway to take me home, I began to feel sick. I realised he’d be leaving me very soon. I couldn’t stand the thought. I clutched his shoulder.

  ‘Don’t leave,’ I said. ‘Stay awhile at my place.’

  ‘I gotta pick up the kids at their mom’s place.’

  ‘Move me closer to you like you promised.’ My voice was rising.

  ‘Stop it!’ he commanded. ‘I have no time for this. I’m already late getting back to see my kids.’

  ‘But I hate this.’

  ‘We can’t have this conversation now.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Just be patient. It’ll all work out. I want this as much as you do.’

  He drew me to him, holding me tightly. ‘You’re my lover, my beautiful lover. You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Now there.’

  He dropped me off in front of my duplex. I watched HIM as he drove away and then burst into tears.

  I could not live like this. I was a little girl who had misplaced her favourite toy; a heroin addict without her drug. Sam came outside and gently guided me back towards his duplex. He sat me down on the sofa. I watched him as he went to his liquor cabinet. He brought me back a shot glass and a bottle of whiskey. I laughed through my tears.

  ‘I guess this is serious!’ I exclaimed.

  He let me talk. He did not judge me for my actions.

  ‘You know, this may have more to do with your mother,’ he said. ‘I know you mourn her every day. But you were always so consumed with taking care of her when she was sick, you became numb emotionally. Maybe this relationship is your way of letting go of your mother. You couldn’t cry when your mom died but tears seem to be flowing now because of this guy.’

  ‘For a former civil engineer, you’re a pretty good shrink,’ I replied, pouring another shot of whiskey and knocking it down my throat in a hurry.

  Sam suggested I lie down on his couch while he made dinner for us. I fell asleep almost immediately. He woke me up several hours later. He offered me a cup of his zucchini soup, made from veggies picked in our garden.

  When I finally left his duplex and returned home, I threw my purse down on the coffee table. It was then I noticed that there was a black velvet jewellery box tucked into one of the side pockets of the handbag. I took it out and opened it. My eyes gleamed. In the box was a beautiful sapphire and diamond necklace. It twinkled. The inlays of the jewels were exquisite. I had no idea how much he’d spent on it. I put it on in front of the mirror and almost fainted. It was just too exquisite. I understood then that at some level the gift was his way of apologising for his absences. If he couldn’t offer me a day-to-day relationship, the gift made up for that. The whole concept of the gift was making me dizzy. I threw off my clothes and fell on my bed. My fingers found my clit. I closed my eyes and fucked myself to climax, all the while thinking of HIM. HIM. I texted HIM later.

  ME: Thanks for the necklace. It’s beautiful.

  HIM: So r u.

  ME: Where r u?

  HIM: Doing history homework w/son.

  ME: Our night together was dreamy.

  HIM: U r dreamy.

  ME: I love ur cock.

  HIM: I never can get enuf of u.

  ME: Can’t wait 2 c u again.

  HIM: Gotta go. Son having probs w/hmwrk assignment.

  * * *

  The following evening I lay on my bed reliving the weekend. We’d basically fucked non-stop. I kept thinking about how we’d kept the drapes open and how he fucked me against the balcony railing. I wondered what it would have been like for someone viewing us. It was such a turn-on. I sent HIM another text.

  ME: Still thinking abt last weekend.

  HIM: Me 2. U r so hot.

  ME: No u r.

  HIM: I luv fucking ur tits.

  ME: I luv ur come on my tits.

  HIM: I luv my come on any part of ur body.

  ME: I luv ur come. I can’t live w/out it.

  HIM: Sexting is almost as good as fucking.

  ME: Almost. Can I see you again soon?

  HIM: Not sure. Tight schedule. Will let you know

  ME: K.

  On the following evening we exchanged yet another flurry of texts.

  ME: You have to understand I am addicted to the way u fuck me.

  HIM: I am aware of that.

  ME: It’s never been like this before.

  HIM: Our bodies fit perfectly 2gether.

  ME: U r so sexy.

  HIM: U have such a gorgeous body.

  ME: I luv ur body. Sooooo handsome.

  The next evening he wrote me back.

  HIM: When I am inside u I can’t think of anything else.

  ME: I know. The world just stops.

  HIM: It’s abt how turned on I am by ur body.

  ME: Yes.

  HIM: I look @ ur tits while I’m fucking u I just explode.

  ME: When u come I luv it.

  HIM: Between your tight pussy and big tits I can’t get enuf of u.

  I quickly put on a black push-up bra and the necklace he had bought me and snapped a photo and sent it to HIM.

  ME: Here’s a photo of the necklace you bought me.

  HIM: So, so beautiful. I got hard just looking at your tits.

  11

  Without HIM, my life unravels …

  I caught myself thinking about falling in love with someone who I hoped was out there right now thinking about the possibility of me, but I quickly banished the notion. It was that kind of thinking that landed me in this situation to begin with. Hope can ruin you.

  Perry Moore, Hero

  I felt as if my relationship with HIM had finally coalesced into what I wanted it to be. The constant sexting was giving me a sense of belonging to HIM. I was able to deal with the fact that I only got to see HIM now and then. And what he said in the texts was so personal it made me feel kind of giddy half the time.

  Which is why I was taken off guard when THE BOY came into the bungalow one morning before class carrying an extra Starbucks coffee. He handed it to me.

  ‘Café latte. Right?’

  ‘Well, yes. Th
anks.’

  I took a sip. ‘In the olden days a student would give his teacher an apple in order to negotiate a better grade.’

  ‘That was the olden days. Today the rules have all changed.’

  ‘Oh, have they?’

  ‘So whatever happened to the guy you met after you left us at the reading at the downtown library?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Oh, I am pretty sure you met someone that night. The way you looked that night, you were primed to meet someone, plus you’ve been different ever since. You’re languid.’

  ‘Languid?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. You walk around in this mysterious way. I just know you’re thinking about someone or something.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘So your master’s thesis was on femme fatales, right?’ THE BOY changed the subject.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe you are one.’

  ‘Most femme fatales don’t come to a good end. Look at Madame Bovary and Anna Karenina. They killed themselves. I don’t want to end up like that.’

  ‘So are your relationships dark and complex?’

  ‘That’s kind of none of your business and, for what it is worth, the one long-term relationship I’ve had was with a very mentally healthy young man. But what is it to you?’

  ‘You intrigue me.’

  I looked at THE BOY. I suspected that in his own fashion he was flirting with me. For a moment I envisioned the two of us kissing. I thought about what it would be like to have him kiss me then and there. I was pretty sure he’d become hard almost immediately. In fact I looked at his crotch and sure enough he was slightly erect. He caught me looking at him.

  ‘OK, OK,’ he said, laughing. ‘Yeah, I have a thing about you. But I know it’s not gonna go anywhere. Hell, I live at home with my parents. Listen, I don’t want to get into trouble and have you report me. But you are a femme fatale and you are hot and the guy you met is one lucky fellow.’

  THE BOY went to his seat as the other students began pouring into class. I caught him several times peering at me during the class. To be perfectly honest I was a little bit turned on.

  The following morning I was sitting in my bungalow waiting for my next class to begin when I heard my cell vibrate. I was hoping it was HIM but instead it was the department head at the college.

  DEPARTMENT HEAD: I need to meet with you. Can you make lunch?

  ME: Sure.

  DEPARTMENT HEAD: How abt the cafeteria at noon?

  ME: Fine.

  At noon I headed toward the cafeteria and entered feeling kind of nauseous and really nervous. I nodded to my head of department – she was in the cashier’s line, three people ahead of me. We eventually made it through the line and sat down at one of the tables. She was a heavy-set woman in her mid-fifties, with frizzy hair and glasses. She looked at me expectantly. I felt a little uncomfortable. I turned away from her gaze and focused on the macaroni and cheese I’d bought.

  I noticed she hadn’t started eating. She put her hands on the table and leaned towards me in a confidential manner.

  ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Well, the macaroni and cheese is hardly Julia Child’s cuisine.’

  ‘No. I mean in your personal life.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, several of your students have come to me. They’ve said you seem distracted, that you’re not yourself. On more than one occasion I’ve had students tell me they were looking for you during your office hours and you were nowhere to be found.’

  ‘Well, my aunt has been in and out of the hospital. She has breast cancer.’ It was a blatant lie.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear this,’ she said. She extended a hand to mine and patted me.

  I looked at her, stunned. How could I tell this woman who had no sexual exterior whatsoever that if I were to unbutton my shirt she’d notice a necklace of love bites covering my breasts and that if she were to take a sample of my skin and put it under a microscope she’d find traces of semen strewn all over my body?

  I told her I was my aunt’s primary caretaker. I lied. I didn’t have an aunt.

  How could I tell her that I was in deep with this man who offered hard love and nothing more? How could I tell her I lived and breathed this man? My body was so accustomed to his touch. My desire for HIM took me to places I’d never gone before. She was looking at a woman who had known a kind of sexual intimacy that was difficult to explain. It was all-consuming. Students be damned.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I told her. ‘My aunt is feeling a lot better. She doesn’t have another round of chemo until after the holidays. I promise to be more consistent about keeping my office hours.’

  ‘You know when we hired you a couple of years ago, we were so excited to get such a young and vibrant instructor,’ she said. ‘You held such promise.’

  And now? I wanted to ask her, but didn’t. I knew I hadn’t been functioning well at work. It was the last thing on my mind.

  That afternoon I sat in my bungalow, grading papers. I raised my skirt up with my hand and pushed away my panties. My middle finger found that place down there. The door to the bungalow was open. At any moment one of the students could come in to talk to me. But I closed my eyes and thought of HIM – about what he had done to me the night before. I imagined HIM as he stood over me spraying his come all over my body. I rubbed myself softly and rubbed some more. I kept envisioning HIM, his body, his lust, his cock, his come. And then I surrendered to the sensation, shuddering when I climaxed.

  When I’d recovered, I texted HIM.

  ME: I just masturbated to the memory of last night.

  HIM: I loved it when I came all over you.

  ME: Yes, that was what I was thinking about.

  HIM: Where r u?

  ME: At the college.

  HIM: You masturbated there?

  ME: Yes.

  HIM: Very sexy. Kinda risky.

  ME: I can’t help it. I love ur come.

  HIM: Your fingers must smell like ur pussy.

  ME: They do.

  HIM: I envy ur fingers. Wish it was my cock that smelled of ur pussy.

  ME: Me too.

  * * *

  Then, when I least expected it, I stopped hearing from HIM. Even though I’d continued with the sexting, he was not texting me back. It made me feel as if our romantic getaway had never happened.

  And then came insomnia. How could there not be? How could I possibly sleep? How could I? I raged at night, almost howling at the moon.

  My affliction was horrific. Adrenalin flowed through my body. I lived in a state of emergency.

  I crawled through the days feeling completely disoriented. Where was I? When I would fall asleep for an hour or two it felt like death, but waking was not much better. I hated my life. I hated it. What cruel trick was this to live with such longing? I couldn’t stand it. Where was he? HIM? Why wasn’t he here with me?

  I raged because of his absence. I hated it. I needed HIM now. I needed HIM always. I wanted the absolute surrender I felt when he was with me. I had to have that. Nothing else mattered. How could it?

  How could I talk to anyone about this? I didn’t want anyone to know how deep this was, how far gone I was. I couldn’t imagine remaining like this but I couldn’t foresee living without HIM. I wanted HIM. I wanted HIM.

  How could he not be here? Where was he?

  On Saturday night I lay on my bed. I threw off my nightgown and lay there naked. I looked at my body and got turned on by it. This was the body that he loved fucking. He loved my breasts. He kneaded them and sucked on them, bit them, slapped them, came on them. He loved them.

  He loved my pussy. He had to fuck my pussy really hard and told me he loved how tight my pussy was.

  He loved going deep. He had to. He fucked me to oblivion. I needed that. It couldn’t be any other way.

  I have said it before and I will say it again. I loved his come. I just loved it.

  I thought about his come and
craved it. I needed it in my pussy. I needed to swallow it. I needed HIM to masturbate in front of me until he blasted his hot come all over my breasts or my belly or my ass. I loved to rub his come all over my body.

  I could not sleep. How could I? At four in the morning I put on a French negligée and took a photo of myself facing the mirror. I sent it to HIM but still nothing. I fell back to sleep. I awoke realising I was still clutching my cellphone. He hadn’t texted me in the middle of the night. Esme jumped up on the bed and made her way towards me. She began purring non-stop.

  ‘If only he loved me the way you do,’ I cried, but Esme’s only answer was to purr louder. I clutched her to me, my sweet little bundle of joy.

  * * *

  The phone ringing woke me up the following morning. I picked up the receiver. ‘Wake up,’ Sam said. ‘Don’t you remember? We’re going to harvest our pumpkins today.’

  ‘You got to be kidding,’ I told him. ‘I just woke up.’

  ‘Oh, just get dressed and eat something. Then meet me in the backyard in a half an hour’.

  ‘All right,’ I answered sullenly. It wasn’t the first time Sam had roused me with the garden.

  Several months after my mother died, Sam knocked on my door holding two shovels. ‘We have to begin preparing for next year’s vegetable garden.’

  I laughed. ‘You have to be kidding. I wouldn’t know a turnip from a tomato plant.’

  ‘Well, there’s always a first time,’ he said. ‘Besides, I’m not getting any younger and there’s gonna be a time when you’re gonna have to take over.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Says your friend and neighbour. Listen, why don’t you change into your grungiest pair of jeans and T-shirt? I’ll meet you out back in ten minutes.’ And then he was gone. I watched him as he walked towards the gate on the side of our duplex leading to our backyard.

  Of course, my first day of gardening was gruelling. He explained that the first step was to turn the dirt over to prepare it for the new season. ‘We’ll add compost and mulch next weekend. Then there’s a waiting period before the soil will be ready. You’ll be off the hook after that. At least for a couple of weeks.’

  Although Sam was already in his late sixties, he had the stamina of a much younger man. He was in much better shape than me. I was exhausted after the first twenty minutes of digging. I put down my shovel and went over to one of the picnic chairs to sit down.