It is late afternoon. I am home alone, bored and wishing there were something interesting to do. I hear my cell phone ringing in my backpack, so I reach for it. Not recognizing the number, I answer, curious as to who has my number. As soon as I hear someone speak on the other end of the line, I know who it is: My ex, Scott. (He and I had an on-again, off-again relationship when we were teenagers, and more recently, I cheated on my husband with him last year. We got caught, and things got ugly). Heart racing, I am both excited and annoyed. I ask why he is calling me, and he replies that even though it has been such a long time since we’ve seen or spoken to one another, he can’t get me out of his mind. Skeptical, I rebuff him, saying I don’t want to be burned yet again by him. Hesitating briefly, he asks me to meet with him. At first, I say ‘no,’ knowing it would not be the best of ideas. Then, he says something that interests me…He wants to explain himself; how he behaved the last time things went wrong involving the two of us; why he lied to my husband regarding the extent of his willful participation in the affair. Reluctantly, I agree to meet with him. He gives me directions to his place, and I hang up the phone.
Almost on autopilot, I drive to his apartment. As I find a space next to his truck, I sit there, contemplating my choices as the car idles. I could just leave…not even allow the remote chance that something bad could happen. However, my curiosity prevails, and I find myself shutting off the engine. Walking to the door, I again consider leaving, but my legs will not allow me to turn around. It’s as though a powerful magnet is pulling me toward my destination. Heart racing, I knock, almost hoping he just doesn’t answer the door. To my combined excitement and chagrin, he answers the door. And what’s worse is, he looks even more fabulous than I ever remembered him. Looking me over, he greets me and thanks me for agreeing to see him. He also remarks on how good I look. Trying to ignore his subtle flirtation, I shake off the compliment. I ask why he wanted to see me, and he replies that he has missed me…That wasn’t so subtle. I remind him of how many times I’ve opened myself up to him, only to have him hurt me, and he apologizes. I’m still not buying it. I remind him of the fact that he has lied to people about him and me in order to save his own ass, and again, he apologizes. He explains to me that, back then, he was not only afraid of the consequences of our having been together, (my husband threatened to kill him), but also of how he felt about me. According to him, he wasn’t ready to admit his feelings for me. I ask him what his feelings were for me. Looking into my eyes, he hesitates a moment, and finally says he was in love with me…and that he still is. Appauled, I reject the sentiment, saying, first of all, that I don’t need to be hearing this…that he has already turned my life upside down once…almost destroyed it. Secondly, how do I know he’s being sincere? He has fooled me before, and is quite adept at decieving me. He tells me that he wasn’t lying to me when he told me I had been a part of him for ten years. He meant it, but got freaked out after everything that transpired afterward. He says he has spent the past year since then trying to figure out a way to make things up to me…That he didn’t intend to hurt me, but was afraid. Again he apologizes. Taking my hand, he looks into my eyes again and asks me to believe him. He tells me that he hasn’t been able to get me out of his mind. Totally confused and in disbelief, I am speechless. My mind racing, I pull away from him and turn, trying to make some sense of what he has just told me. I tell him that he shouldn’t be telling me all of this, that I can’t handle it. Grabbing my arm, he turns me around so that I am facing him. Not wanting to look into his eyes, I stare at my shoes, still trying to make sense of everything flooding through my head. Touching my chin, he lifts my face. Looking into my eyes, he asks me what I’m thinking. I tell him that I don’t know what to think. Studying my face, he smiles warmly, and says he knows that he’s dropped a lot on me, but he feels that he needed to finally tell me the truth. Leaning down, he kisses me softly on the lips. Shocked at first, I resist him, knowing this is a mistake. As I pull away, he gently curls his fingers around the back of my neck and continues to kiss me. Finally, I give in, realizing that I am enjoying the feeling of his lips against mine. As I part my lips slightly, he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between them. Getting lost in the moment, I wind my fingers through his dark hair as I feel his fingers curl around my waist. I start to feel lightheaded, and he pulls me closer to him, still kissing me deeply. Apparently, he’s getting carried away also, because I feel his hands slide under my shirt. As his hands slide up my back, I feel him hesitate slightly as he reaches the clasp of my bra. Breaking the kiss, he pulls back and studies me for a moment. He tells me that he wants me, but doesn’t want to go any further if it’s not what I want. He says that he has loved me for a long time, but knows he has hurt me. In a fog, I tell him that despite the many times he has hurt me, and against my better judgement, I still want him. Smiling, he kisses me again, and starts to back me toward his bedroom. As we reach the door, he presses me against it, kissing me hungrily. Fumbling with the knob, he opens the door, and guides me toward the bed. At the edge of the bed, he leans over me as I sit down. Reaching under his shirt, I slide my hands over his stomach and chest. He curls his arm around me and gently urges me to lie down. As I feel the weight of his body pressing me into the bed, he runs light kisses down my neck. Closing my eyes, I whimper slightly, enjoying it all. Lifting my shirt, he allows his lips and tongue to tease my breasts for a few amazing moments. I feel him reach for the button and zipper of my jeans, and I begin to tremble a little. Unfastening them, his hand softly caresses my lower stomach before it slides under the waistband of my panties. He returns his lips to mine as he tenderly caresses me, and just as he slides his tongue between my lips, he allows his middle finger to slip into me. Moaning in extreme pleasure, I close my legs around his hand, remembering how incredibly skilled he is at foreplay. He strokes me for several agonizingly wonderful minutes, bringing me right to the edge of complete satisfaction…he’s teasing me. I feel him smile against my lips as he allows his hand to retreat from its erotic task. I look up into his beautiful eyes, not believing this is real. I curl my fingers around the back of his neck and pull his face down toward mine for another kiss. I slide my hands under his shirt, and help him remove it. Throwing it on the floor, I trail kisses over his neck and chest as I allow my hands to journey to his pants. Unfastening them, I curl my fingers around him. He groans my name as I grip him, and I continue to pleasure him manually. After a few minutes, he says he can’t take anymore…he wants me now, he growls into my ear. In a blur, the remainder of our clothes are discarded, and he positions himself between my thighs. With amazing skill and gentleness, he makes love to me, all the while telling me how beautiful I am and how much he loves me. My eyes closed, I still can hardly believe all this is really happening. It all feels like a dream I have no control over. Looking down into my eyes, he seems to lose control. He becomes more intense and powerful as he draws nearer to his release…
Afterward, he lies on top of me for a few moments, regaining his breath. Waiting, I run my fingers through his damp hair. In a few minutes, he props himself on his elbows, and looks at me. He again tells me he loves me. Reluctantly, I tell him I love him, too. Noticing my hesitation, he asks me what’s wrong. Want
ing to be
honest with him, I tell him that I don’t know if I could handle being hurt by him again. I stand to lose too much if he flakes out on me again. He understands my concern, and tries to reassure me that this time, he’s not going to hurt me again. More than anything, I want to believe him. I search his face for any sign of sincerity or deception, and whether I am blind to the latter or not, I only seem to see sincerity. Probably my own foolishness and wishful thinking; I open my heart to him again. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel totally content and relaxed. Resting my head on his chest, I feel myself getting sleepy. The last thing I remember before drifting off is feeling his arm curling around me as he pulls me close to him.