HIM
Cecilia Scott

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Chapter 1. The night I met Him …

Chapter 2. He comes over unexpectedly …

Chapter 3. I can’t find Him …

Chapter 4. Rushing home to Him …

Chapter 5. Best friends and abandoned cats …

Chapter 6. I can’t find Him, redux.

Chapter 7. Waiting to see Him …

Chapter 8. He’s going to Paris. Paris?

Chapter 9. A glorious weekend with Him …

Chapter 10. Sexting …

Chapter 11. Without Him, my life unravels …

Chapter 12. We break up …

Chapter 13. The Boy, oh, The Boy …

Chapter 14. Loving The Boy …

Chapter 15. The Boy and I live in a fantasy world …

Chapter 16. A trip to the mountains with The Boy. The Boy …

Chapter 17. And then it was Him again, Him …

Chapter 18. Letting go of The Boy, the beautiful, beautiful BOY …

Chapter 19. Sam attempts to intervene by reading me the riot act …

Chapter 20. Him, Him, Oh, My God, Him

Chapter 21. Another intervention …

Chapter 22. I love Him. I love Him. I just do …

Chapter 23. Him, up close and personal …

Chapter 24. The promises I so wanted to hear …

Chapter 25. A trip with Him, destination unknown …

Chapter 26. What happens in Vegas …

Chapter 27. Confusion …

Chapter 28. Christmas without Him

Chapter 29. The Boy …

Chapter 30. Hysteria …

Chapter 31. Doomsday

Chapter 32. The Boy, The Boy …

Chapter 33. I have lost Him …

Chapter 34. Post Script

Copyright

About the Publisher

1
The night I met HIM …

And I do lift my aching arms to you,

And I do lift my anguished, avid breast

And I do weep for very pain of you,

And fling myself at the doors of sleep, for rest,

D. H. Lawrence, ‘A Love Song’

This is what I know: I took a short cut to the real thing. I slept with a man I’d known for less than an hour. It wouldn’t have been the first time nor the last. Before you make a value judgment, it’s just who I am. It’s not an everyday thing. Hell, months can go by, but I have gone down the road of indiscriminate sex before. Who hasn’t, really? It’s part of the rite of passage of being a young woman. I’d had the requisite long-term relationship before. But no one had come even close to being LTR material since then until HIM. HIM.

So how did I meet HIM? I remember perfectly. I’d gone to a reading of my sophomore Community College students’ work at the Downtown Library. It was a big deal for them and we’d all dressed up for the occasion. I was wearing a flowery vintage lacy dress that showed off all my curves. I’m ordinarily a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal, but the occasion gave me an excuse to wear something pretty. It made me feel alive and sexy.

I was sitting next to THE BOY during the reading. Our shoulders were touching. I’d always had a thing for him since the day he walked into my class when he was a freshman. He’d been taking my classes every semester and acted like he had the hots for me. During the readings, I tried to listen to the students read but mainly I was thinking about how nice it would be to have sex with THE BOY. He was on the swim team. He was dark and sleek and had a swimmer’s body.

After the reading, my students asked me to go with them to some diner down the street but I begged off. I’d been a community college instructor for too long. Hanging out with the students had lost much of its charm.

I bid them adieu. There was a new high-rise hotel across the street from the library. The building was beautiful, with strips of neon against a tall glass exterior. It looked like a hotel you’d find in Manhattan. I decided to check out the bar. A drink sounded good. With any luck, there’d be a handsome man wanting to pay attention to me. It had been a while since I’d been with a man. To be perfectly honest, THE BOY had gotten me all hot and bothered but it would be better to find a more appropriate suitor.

The bar was very sleek. It was all glass and black furnishing and recessed lighting. And there he was. HIM. He nodded as he beckoned for me to come over to HIM. He ordered us martinis. It sounded good.

We began talking. I looked at HIM. He was tall and muscular with ever so slanted eyes. He was handsome in a take-charge kind of way.

He was not wearing a wedding ring.

I looked into his eyes and knew I would sleep with HIM that evening.

As he talked to me we were both getting more and more turned on. I looked sexy – all soft curves with straight brown hair and large luminous brown eyes. I knew I’d sleep with HIM soon.

Looking at HIM I knew he was already making love to me in his mind. Both of us were holding our breath in sexual anticipation. It was only a matter of time.

So what was a nice woman like myself doing having sex with a stranger? I wasn’t really desperate. Not really. I had a good job as an instructor at a junior college teaching English Lit and Creative Writing classes. Some of the students held promise. It wasn’t a bad job. I taught four classes, three in the morning and one in the early afternoon, and didn’t have classes on Fridays.

I lived in a duplex on a half-acre of land. It was a cosy place with a fireplace and a pretty backyard with fruit trees. I grew a small vegetable garden during the summer months.

I wasn’t looking for a relationship when I met HIM. I didn’t want anything permanent. Or so I thought. I just wanted sex. At least it seemed that it was what I wanted until I met HIM. So what if it was dangerous? What did I have to lose? I just wanted the touch of a man.

I looked at HIM sitting next to me. He was wearing a grey wool suit. His golden blond hair was thick. I desired HIM.

He told me he was a partner at a law firm that specialised in International Law. He’d completed law school at an Ivy League university.

I could envision already how good our bodies would look together. I didn’t ask HIM how old he was but he appeared to be in his mid-forties.

‘Our headquarters are south of here,’ he said, mentioning a city about fifty miles away. ‘But I’m currently working on a case at our downtown office and staying at the hotel.’

He leaned into me. ‘I was bored sitting in my room. You’re such a delightful surprise.’ Our eyes met. He placed his hand lightly on mine. ‘I’m divorced with two children.’ For a moment he looked sad and lost. ‘My ex kept the house. I rent a small apartment near my kids.’

We sat there in silence as I took in his information.

‘I want you –’ he whispered in my ear.

‘Yes.’

I thanked my lucky stars he was not already taken, although I would’ve made love to HIM anyway. I wanted HIM that badly.

I’d never been with a man like HIM before. I tended toward the struggling artist type. Most of the men in my life drove ten-year-old Toyota Corollas. They worked at Starbucks while writing screenplays they could never sell. They had roommates or had moved back in with their parents.

‘Would you like another drink?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ I replied.

He ordered another round. The room started to swirl. I was feeling light-headed. I wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the close proximity of HIM.

After taking the last sip of the martini, he leaned further into me and kissed me on the neck. I gasped.

‘I want you in my room.’

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

He paid the bill. We stood up. I turned toward HIM. He pressed himself up against me so I could feel his erection, and kissed me hard.

When we got into the elevator he was already beginning to make love to me. His hands travelled all over my body and he kissed me hard on the mouth. Then he unbuttoned my dress, unhooked the bra and began sucking my nipples.

I heard the elevator door open when it reached his floor. For a moment I was disoriented.

Inside his room he turned on a set of dim lights, then pushed me against the closed door of the room.

His next kiss lasted for hours.

Then he led me to the bed.

I stripped and lay down naked on the bed on my back, watching HIM as he took off his clothes. He was taking his time getting undressed, teasing me with the tension. When he removed his underwear, his ass was beautiful. When he turned around I stared at his beautiful erection.

He knelt down on the bed and kissed me between my thighs. Right there. Just once. A hello. But the kiss went straight to my heart.

‘I’m on birth control pills,’ I told HIM.

He smiled at me. I was giving HIM permission to enter me without a condom – wanting to feel HIM bareback – to feel HIM completely. Nothing else would do.

I had to have all of HIM. All of HIM.

He moved up my body, kissing my stomach, and stopped at my breasts. ‘Oh, oh,’ he said, cupping them in his hands. ‘You have the most beautiful breasts.’

Lying on top of me he made love to them, with his mouth, lips and hands. He sucked on my nipples, first one then the other, as if his life depended on it.

Eventually he moved and straddled me so that his cock could play with my breasts. I pressed them together so he could slide between. We both moaned and his movement became more frenetic to the critical point, when he sat up and came over my breasts.

‘Thank you. Thank you,’ I said, nearly in tears.

He collapsed next to me. ‘My God, that was hot. I’ve never been so turned on.’

I was delirious with happiness, so wanting to please HIM sexually. I can’t even begin to say how much I needed to be fucked by HIM. It was just what it was: I had to have HIM.

I don’t know how much time elapsed before we recovered but we held each other tightly. I knew he’d make love to me again that night.

Later he lay on top of me and slipped a finger inside my pussy.

‘Yes.’

‘My God, you are so fucking wet.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m gonna have to fuck you.’

‘Yes.’

‘I need to fuck you.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m gonna fuck you hard.’

‘OK.’

‘I mean it.’

‘Yes.’

It was then that he lay on top of me and slipped his cock inside. And at first he just lay still with his penis buried deep. He was claiming me for himself. I understood that.

Then he began kissing me. His tongue was inside my mouth, claiming it too. He began moving; his thrusts inside me were deep and hard. By now we were both lost in arousal, kissing each other, fucking each other, his excitement mounting, until his final thrust. As he burst inside me, he let out a deep groan so guttural and intimate it almost scared me.

When he rested on top of me, I realised I was so happy because I had his seed inside me. I had so wanted HIM to come deep inside.

When he fell asleep, I was content to just look at HIM. I glanced at the clock in the hotel room. It was 3.18 a.m. I couldn’t sleep so I got out of bed and dressed quietly, not wanting to disturb HIM. Before leaving the room I left a business card with my cellphone number scribbled on the back. I looked back at HIM once more before closing the door gently. I didn’t know if I would see HIM again.

2
He comes over unexpectedly …

I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.

James Joyce, Ulysses

I was useless the day after I met HIM. HIM.

My body was sore with aching breasts from the love bites he’d bestowed upon them. He’d fucked me to oblivion and back. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

I stopped for a café latte at Starbucks before getting to the college. After my first class was over I ran to the women’s staff bathroom. My pussy burned when I peed. My eyes began to tear. Leaning against the side of the bathroom stall, I wanted to scream out in pain. Closing my eyes I remembered HIM. HIM. And I wanted to rush out of the school and go back to the downtown hotel. It didn’t matter that he’d probably left the room.

I wanted HIM. I wanted HIM like mad.

During class that day my students were whiny and needy. THE BOY seemed to have intuited my sexual liaison with the man from the hotel and he scowled at me. I barely listened to the other students. I blew off their questions after class and faked a headache. I couldn’t wait to get home so I could lie in my own bed and think about HIM. I was addicted to HIM already.

THE BOY stopped at my desk after class. ‘Did you have a nice time at the hotel bar?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I think you had more than a nice time. You’re all flushed,’ he said, laughing, then turned around and did not look back at me.

I didn’t keep my office hours but quit the college in mid-afternoon, leaving a stack of ungraded papers on my desk.

When I arrived home, my landlord was out in front raking leaves. Our daily exchanges were important to us both. He waved but I didn’t acknowledge him; I just wanted to be left alone with my thoughts.

Inside my duplex I hastily undressed and headed for the bathroom. I ran a hot bath, lay in it with my eyes closed and immediately played with myself as I recalled the evening with HIM.

I stayed in the bathtub until the water grew cold. After I climbed out I went and stood before the bathroom mirror. My body was still sore in places. He’d fucked me so thoroughly with his cock, his hands and his mouth, and I noticed a trail of love bites turning black and blue on my breasts. Swaying back and forth before the mirror, I grabbed my breasts and squeezed them hard before slipping my right middle finger inside my pussy. I came almost immediately. Because I was thinking of HIM. HIM.

My body was my gift to HIM.

I went and lay in bed.

Later that evening, as I lay awake in bed, my phone began to vibrate. A text message. It could have been anyone but when the message arrived I stopped breathing. I could tell by the area-code number that it was HIM: the man who had put his cock inside me the night before and the man who would put his cock inside me again. I was certain of this.

HIM: Hey, pretty lady. I loved last night.

ME: Me 2. It was amazing.

HIM: I want to c u again.

ME: Soon?

HIM: Soon. I need to touch you all over.

ME: Yes. Where r u now?

And then nothing. I waited for HIM to write back, heart thumping, staring at the phone and willing it to beep. The phone became hot in my hand but still I held on to it. I waited for an hour and then I texted HIM again.

ME: Where r u?

* * *

And then I really began waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting, always for HIM. This is what I knew – I’d pretended I wasn’t lonely, but I was. Ever since I’d met HIM I’d become sick with loneliness. Getting out of bed began to feel impossible. Where was he? Why was he not with me? I tormented myself with these questions.

My days crawled. I no longer felt inspired at work.

Before I had met HIM, even if it was difficult to acknowledge, I was hungry, alone, angry and tired. I was prime for some sort of entanglement. The diverging road was sexually complicated and I took it, knowing that my love affair with HIM would alter my life in some irrevocable way. The intensity of the sex alone had been difficult to process.

I was ripe for HIM.

I was 33 years old and had lived in the same duplex since I moved out of my mother’s house when I started college, fifteen years before. My landlord, Sam, lived next door. He and I stood by one another through our loved ones’ illnesses and eventual passings.

Sam’s wife got sick first. He and I more or less nursed her those last two years of her life. Then it was my mother who battled the same disease, only to die from it several years later. Breast cancer shows no mercy.

Then my landlord’s vision worsened. He’d retired from his job as a civil engineer. He didn’t want to drive back and forth to work. He could barely see. I spent more and more time taking care of him. I began helping him manage the apartment buildings he’d bought nearby. We’d interview prospective tenants together. I’d help him with minor repairs in the buildings. I drove him to get his groceries several times a week and baked him pies using fruit from the trees in the backyard. In turn, Sam stopped charging me rent. We were an odd family but it worked for us. Eventually he became the father I never had.

This was my backstory. I never thought of myself as unhappy, but my night with HIM had confused me profoundly. I mean, I hadn’t felt alone until I met HIM.

I didn’t hear from HIM for several days, though it felt like a couple of weeks, but he made contact on a Friday. I’d left college early and returned, wearily, to my duplex. Sat down on the sofa and listened to the rain beating on my roof. I lit a fire and watched the logs burn before falling asleep on the couch.

The vibration of the phone woke me. It was HIM.

HIM: Can I come up, now?

ME: Where r u?

HIM: @ my downtown office. Just finishing up.

ME: It’s raining.

HIM: Don’t be silly. I can be there in no time.

ME: Fantastic!

I began the ritual of getting ready for a man. I took a long bath and reapplied my make-up. I found a black lace negligée. It fit my body perfectly. I took to my bed, waiting for HIM, occasionally fingering myself in anticipation. I was wet for HIM already.

About an hour later he was at my door.

I let HIM in.

He embraced me.

‘It would be heaven to wake up to you every morning,’ he whispered in my ear.

I gasped. What an amazing promise. It was a beautiful fantasy.

I could already imagine being in bed with HIM each morning. We’d live in a pretty little seaside cottage. It would be a sweet little place. We’d be able to feel a soft sea breeze upon our skin when the bedroom window was left open in the summer months. What better place to make love to this beautiful man?

I knew his promise was premature. But it didn’t matter. Already I was repeating it in my head. He wanted to wake up to me every morning. He wanted to wake up to me. He wanted …

I took HIM to my sofa. We sat there for hours. He explored my body with his hands. He stopped for a moment, looking into my eyes.

We began to kiss again. He slowly removed my negligee. I sat naked in front of HIM. He liked my being naked while he was still dressed. It turned HIM on.

He devoured my breasts with his mouth, sucking on my nipples until I moaned with equal pleasure and pain.

‘I love your breasts,’ he said, cupping them. ‘I could get down on my hands and knees to worship them.’ And he did just that: he fell to his knees and buried his face in my chest.

I felt honoured.

‘I love this,’ he whispered. ‘I love it. I could stay like this for ever.’

‘I want you inside me,’ I pleaded. ‘Please.’

I took HIM into my bedroom. I lay on the bed and watched HIM undress. As he walked towards me, I was transfixed by his erection.

He fucked me thoroughly, over and over, in so many different positions. I’d never felt so womanly before. What was there to say? Being with HIM was exhilarating. I couldn’t get enough of HIM. He seemed to feel the same way.

He left a few hours later after telling me that his son needed to be at football practice early the next day.

I would see HIM again soon.

3
I can’t find HIM …

We shall find peace. We shall hear the angels, we shall see the sky sparkling with diamonds.

Anton Chekhov, Uncle Vanya

This is what I understood: before I met HIM I’d been walking blind. But now my eyes were wide open. All my senses were amplified. It was a brave new world I’d entered and I wasn’t sure how to navigate it. It felt overwhelming.

I could not stop crying.

But it didn’t matter. I would’ve sojourned here anyway.

This was what I knew: I gave HIM my body. He made love to it, fucked it, slapped it, bit it and spanked it. In turn he gave me oblivion in pleasure.

I didn’t feel that I’d ever had a choice. And until I entered his world I couldn’t have possibly known I would feel this way.

* * *

The next morning I was scheduled to help my landlord Sam with the maintenance of one of his apartment buildings. I met him out in the front of our duplex at 10 a.m. I unlocked the doors of my car, Sam walked round to the passenger side and I slipped into the driver’s seat. We put on our seatbelts. I looked at him.

‘Grandview?’ I asked.

‘Grandview,’ he echoed, chuckling.

Even after all the years of living next to one another and my helping to take care of his apartment buildings, we could never say the name of this one without laughing. The Grandview Apartments actually faced a row of warehouses.

‘The drunk in 201 finally moved out,’ he told me.

‘Always fun going in after someone like that leaves. God only knows what you’ll find,’ I said, heading south towards the Grandview.

‘Apartment 111 says the sink is leaking.’

‘Piece of cake. The pipe needs a new washer,’ I said.

‘You’re good,’ Sam said.

‘I learned everything I know from you.’

‘The lady in 203 called last night to say the lightbulb in her bathroom ceiling fixture needs to be changed,’ he said.

‘What time did she call you anyway?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe around three in the morning.’

‘That lady is out of her mind. Besides, it isn’t your responsibility to change her lightbulbs.’

‘She’s older than I am. I feel sorry for her.’

‘Maybe she’s after you.’

We both laughed. The tenant in 203 was too old and too frail to have any romantic thoughts towards him or anyone.

‘Do you ever consider remarrying?’ I asked him.

‘Well, obviously I’m not gonna marry the lady in 203. But no, I don’t think about getting married again. I liked being married to the Mrs. But when she died, I never once thought about it. It would be hard to go through all the motions of sharing my life with someone again.’

‘I felt like I was married to Jake,’ I said.

‘I know. You were married in your own fashion. What about your new guy?’

‘New guy?’ I played innocent.

‘Oh, c’mon. I saw him get out of his car a couple nights ago,’ Sam said.

‘Well, it’s way too soon to call,’ I said. ‘Needless to say he claims his ex-wife is evil.’

‘That’s too bad,’ said Sam. ‘Usually if there are unresolved feelings from the divorce, they get carried over into the next relationship.’

‘God, I hope not.’

‘Just be cautious.’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘Well, how about you just enjoy the ride for now? Just enjoy yourself.’

‘Thanks.’

Sam and I spent several hours at the apartment complex. I kept my phone on, hoping for a text from HIM. But I did not hear back from HIM that day.

* * *

Time passed. He never got in touch.

It was hard to concentrate and I was useless at work. I closed my eyes during breaks from my classes, sitting at my desk recalling each moment with HIM. It was strange having erotic thoughts while waiting for my students. The bungalow where I taught my classes at the college was so utterly depressing. The buildings had been installed there in the 60s. They were supposed to be temporary, but somehow they’d remained. They looked like army barracks. There was a row of windows looking out at yet another bungalow. The students’ desks were old and covered with graffiti. I despised my job and hated it even more because all I really wanted to do was to be with HIM again. It was the only thing that now made sense. The only thing.

I had fifteen minutes between Creative Writing and Russian Lit classes. I closed my eyes. I swayed back and forth, just a little, recalling the rhythm of our two bodies. I shivered with sexual anticipation, fantasising to the point of orgasm, my body was so aroused.

THE BOY walked in shortly after I climaxed. He looked at me and chuckled.

‘What?’ I asked.

‘What’ve you been up to?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You look like you’ve just had a really, really good time, but no one is here. Did you hide some guy in the closet?’

‘Ha.’

Luckily the students arrived en masse for the class. I switched gears toTolstoy and Dostoyevsky. After class THE BOY smirked as he was leaving.

* * *

I fantasised and waited for HIM to call. A week had passed since our second liaison.

I had gone about it all wrong and sold myself short. Why had I allowed this stranger into my bed? This was the man who had laid claim to my body. This was the man who knew exactly what I needed. But that was no guarantee of another visit. I’d been foolish to think I’d see HIM again.

On the following Friday evening, I took to my bed and drank a bottle of wine.

The phone did ring but it was Sam. He wanted to know if I was OK. I told him I had a cold and even faked a cough. Then I dialled my lover’s number.

His phone went directly to voice messaging.

‘Please, please,’ I said, nearly incoherent. ‘I need you. Come back to me. I can’t stand another moment without you. I will do whatever you want to do with me. I want you so much.’ I began fingering myself while still on the phone, moaning into it. I wanted HIM to hear my desire. I came in a burst of absolute surrender, then clicked off the phone.

Later I fell asleep in a drunken stupor.

He didn’t call me back.

* * *

I was invited to Rebecca’s baby shower on Sunday afternoon. I was sitting in the middle of a dozen or so women and was the only one who was still single. The women were showing each other photos of their babies taken on their cellphones. I was bored out of my mind. ‘Oh, yes. The babies are so pretty,’ I said, feebly pretending to be interested. The women were happy they had landed their husbands and had babies. I suspect they also enjoyed the slight thrill of feeling one up over me. They were living the American dream. I was hardly even trying.

‘Whatever happened to the last guy you were dating?’ one of the young married women asked me. Or was she just being cruel? It was hard to tell.

‘We decided it wasn’t going to work out,’ I said. But I had no idea what guy she was referring to. It didn’t matter. It was a generic ‘It didn’t work out’. Obviously if a relationship had prospered I’d be showing my photos of Junior myself.

I saw the pitying look on several of the other women’s faces, but there was a glint of smugness too. There was a chorus of women wanting to tell me it was my fault. I made bad choices. I was not like them. They went home to a MAN: the ultimate female prize. They’d won. I was the odd duck.

‘Have you considered the Internet?’ someone else asked.

‘It seems so exhausting,’ I replied. ‘Sure, I tried it, but it just wasn’t for me.’

‘My cousin met her husband on match.com,’ another woman interjected.

‘Well,’ I murmured.

‘What do you have to lose?’

I looked at her and thought she had a lot to lose if she continued in this vein – a couple of her front teeth for starters, and I wasn’t the violent type at all. I really didn’t want to have to justify to anyone anything about my ‘single’ life. Who did these women think they were, anyway? When married women made condescending comments to me about being single, it made me feel as if the women’s movement had never happened in our country. My mother taught me long ago that it wasn’t necessary to have a man in my life to be complete. She’d raised me on her own. She did a damn good job, too.

Then Rebecca came to my rescue. She brought out the cake.

I sat there politely eating the Red Velvet cake. It was too sweet, but what did I care? It was better than engaging in conversation. Then I heard my Blackberry vibrate. I put the piece of cake down on the coffee table. I stood up and fumbled in my purse until I found the phone. It was from HIM. I thought my heart had stopped.

HIM: Thanks for the phone call. I’m in Seattle on business.

ME: Seattle?

HIM: On biz. Just here @ hotel.

ME: Biz? But it’s the wk end.

HIM: Don’t worry.

ME: I’m not. Just curious.

HIM: I want to fuck you again.

ME: Yes.

HIM: OMG. Just thinking abt fucking u got me hard.

ME: I’m taking a nap right now. Naked. Wish u were here.

(As if he needed to know I was at a baby shower, bored shitless.)

HIM: Gotta go. Will fuck u later.

And then he was gone. I looked at my phone. Our exchange was over so quickly. I thought it was odd that he was on business on a weekend, but what did I know?

* * *

I was beginning to feel sick. The cake had been too sweet. I closed my eyes for a moment and just sat there. I shivered again, thinking about what we’d written to each other.

I needed to leave. The baby shower was unbearable.

Picking up my purse and throwing it over my shoulder, I left without meeting Rebecca’s eyes.

I rushed home, got back into bed and just lay there.

* * *

Later in the evening I heard a familiar knock at my door. It was Sam.

‘Just a minute,’ I yelled. I went into the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. I looked a little feverish but I knew it was just the jitters. I readjusted my clothing before opening the door. Sam held two bottles of Coors. He walked into the living room. We sat on the sofa. My bottle opener lay on the coffee table as it always did. He often came over for a beer – it was part of our ritual. We popped the bottles, clinked them together and simultaneously took a swig. Then silence.

‘So where did you meet your new guy?’ Sam asked. ‘I saw him arriving in his Mercedes last Friday night during the rainstorm.’

‘I was at a club with some friends of mine,’ I lied. ‘He’s a friend of a friend.’

I didn’t tell Sam I’d slept with HIM right away. Why should I?

‘You should be careful,’ Sam said. ‘Do you know anything about him? Where did he grow up? What does he like to do for fun?’

Screw it, I thought. For fun he fucks me silly.

But I changed the subject.

I didn’t know anything about HIM.

4
Rushing home to HIM …

I have drunken deep of joy, And I will taste no other wine tonight.

Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Cenci

This is what I understood: I loved the surrender of my body – I loved my time with HIM and my time thinking about HIM. HIM. I loved the loss of my self. I knew there was danger in this. I knew it. I’d imagine myself lying on a bed, naked, waiting for HIM. HIM. And then he was on top of me, inside me. It was as it should be. It was as it was supposed to be.

I took the sacrificial road.

I’d only been with HIM twice but it seemed like we’d been together for ages. I so wanted to hear from HIM again. I waited for his text. If only he would text me. Where was he?

It was hard to get on with my life. I sat in my bungalow at the college, grading papers. I despised my small life. I hated it. I wanted to live in a house with HIM. I could picture it, all flowers and picket fences. When I heard a text coming through I prayed it was HIM: the man who knew how to fuck me, the man who was beginning to define my life, the man I knew nothing about who held the promise of a future. My phone vibrated. I picked it up, hoping, hoping …

And it was HIM. My heart banged.

HIM: I’m @ a mtg downtown. Could be @ ur house in an hr.

ME: Gr8.

HIM: Sorry abt short notice.

ME: No worries. Can’t wait 2 c u.

I flew out of my bungalow and ran across the campus to my car. Once home, I jumped into the shower. Moments after turning off the blow dryer I could hear his car pulling into my driveway.

I met HIM at the door with a towel wrapped around me.

There was no ‘hello’, no ‘How are you?’s. He grabbed the towel, yanked it off me and pulled me against his body. His kisses came hard and fast. Without stopping, he led me to the sofa and bent me over it. Then in one quick move he unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop. Once he entered me, he showed me no mercy. He fucked me hard, doggy-style. And then he came deep, deep inside me.

We fell onto the couch, our bodies intertwined. After a while we repositioned our bodies and faced one another. He whispered into my ear, ‘Hey.’

‘Hey back.’

‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll move you down to live closer to me as soon as I can,’ he said earnestly.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll take care of you. You can write full-time.’

‘I want that so much.’

He began touching me again. ‘Our bodies are perfect together,’ he said. ‘Your breasts are so round and full.’

‘I know.’ I was mesmerised by his desire for me.

‘Oh, my God, please,’ I said. ‘Please. Please make love to my tits. They’re yours. Yours. Oh, please. Please.’

And then he was kissing them, sucking them. ‘Oh, my God,’ he cried. ‘I have to fuck you again.’

This time we faced each other while lying on our sides. He stared into my eyes. Then he kissed me so passionately I could barely breathe, and slipped himself into my pussy. He didn’t stop kissing me. Our mouths remained locked until his breath became more irregular as his climax travelled through his body. He moaned into my mouth as he came.

We lay there, both spent.

And then it was my turn. I still needed more, needed to let HIM know how much I loved his cock. It was so beautiful. It gave me such pleasure. If he could only know what it felt like to see HIM walking toward me with his cock erect and eager to be inside me. If he only knew how much I thought about his cock when we were not together.

I hovered over HIM. Time was suspended as I made sweet love to his cock, first kissing the head of it, small little kisses. Then I brought it into my mouth and circled my tongue around it. He began to move, pushing his cock further inside my mouth. I gasped. I moved my position so I could lick his balls, taking one ball into my mouth, then the other. I brought my tongue back up and over the shaft. And then he gently pulled me up into a sitting position. He stood up, holding his cock with his hand, and began masturbating. I sat transfixed by HIM. I could see that he was about to climax; his body went rigid and he emitted a low moan. I opened my mouth and swallowed his come. Then we collapsed together on the couch and held on to each other. We fell asleep wrapped in one another.

He left in the middle of the night. I didn’t wake up.

5
Best friends and abandoned cats …

To love is so startling it leaves little time for anything else.

Emily Dickinson

This is what I understood: I’d been unhappy for a very long time. I lived such a sheltered life and I had little curiosity. I lived vicariously through the books I read. I identified with the Bronte sisters and Emily Dickinson. I lived away from society. I was lost. I had travelled down an abandoned road.

* * *

I called in sick the following morning. Then I phoned Rebecca and asked her to meet me for lunch at our favourite café.

The place was bristling with activity, and the outdoor tables were mostly filled. I found an empty table in the back near the bookstore. The bougainvillea was bountiful. I could hear the mumbled sound of other people’s conversations. Eventually, a very pregnant Rebecca walked towards me. She too was in full bloom, now close to her due date.

I envied her. She was happy. Pure and simple.

She bent over me and kissed me on the forehead. I in turn kissed her pregnant belly. We were beaming. She sat down.

We picked up our menus, decided on salad, and the waitress took our order. Then Rebecca looked at me with an odd smile on her face.

Old friends can always tell. Or at least she could.

‘Who is he?’ she asked.

‘Who is who?’

‘Come on. You have that freshly fucked look on your face. Your movements are so languid. It can only mean one thing. Who is he?’

I didn’t know if I wanted to tell her anything. I was afraid I would jinx everything. He was my secret. Sure, Sam had seen HIM come and go from the duplex but I hadn’t said anything to anyone.

What was there to say anyway? That I was having the most intense sexual experience of my life with a man I barely knew?

I felt exposed.

I told her the basics – how handsome he was, his accomplishments. But I stopped after that and asked her about her pregnancy. When she spoke, I pretended to listen.

I could only think about HIM. I hadn’t bathed after he left, wanting to retain his scent and the feel of HIM against my body for as long as possible. I could still feel his come inside me. I am sure my mouth must have seemed bruised from so much kissing and I had a string of love bites across my breasts. Every part of my body felt swollen, so loved, so attended to.

My best friend continued to talk. We sat together for a long time.

* * *

When I arrived home I saw a white cat with long hair and blue eyes sitting on the stoop and staring at me.

I picked it up and held it. The cat began to purr. I knocked on Sam’s door. When he opened it, he laughed heartily. ‘Oh, my, what do we have here?’

I handed him the cat. ‘Boy or girl?’

He turned it upside down. ‘It’s a girl.’ He paused and said, ‘I think.’

We walked into Sam’s duplex. He handed the cat back to me as I sat on the couch.

‘No collar, huh?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Nothing.’

‘She’s a pretty one.’

‘Yes.’

‘She’s deaf.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Most white-haired female cats with blue eyes are deaf.’

‘Wow. What an interesting piece of information to have stored in your head. Prove it.’

He went back into his kitchen and brought out several pots and pans. He banged them together. The cat didn’t flinch.

‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘She didn’t hear it. But I did. Ouch.’

‘I was pretty sure I was right,’ he said. ‘So what are you going to do with her?’

‘Hmm. I didn’t think parenthood would happen like this,’ I said. ‘I guess I’ll put some signs up and then, if no one responds, I’ll keep her.’

‘What are you going to call her?’

I thought for a moment. ‘Esme.’

‘Interesting name.’

‘She was a character in a Salinger short story. Esme was a teenage girl who touched the heart of a weary soldier with her kindness.’

‘Nice story. Kinda like you and me, huh?’

‘Sure. Wanna go with me to the store to pick up some supplies for her?’ I asked.

‘Sure.’

‘Let me put her inside my apartment and get my purse, then we can go. Or do you mind if she stays in your apartment till we get back?’

‘That’s fine.’

* * *

We drove to a pet store. Sam and I entered it with anticipation. I found a shopping cart and we strolled down the aisles. We bought Esme everything: a litter box, litter, dry and canned catfood and enough toys to keep her occupied for a long time. When we arrived at the aisle with the collars, we both immediately gravitated to the blue one. ‘It will match her eyes,’ I said. He nodded.

‘It feels like Christmas, doesn’t it?’ Sam asked.

One of the clerks showed us how to make a nametag with her name and my phone number on it. ‘Guess this cements the deal,’ I told Sam. ‘I mean, what if her owner shows up? I do plan on putting up signs.’

‘It’ll be OK. It’ll be a happy ending either way,’ he replied.

‘Oh, it’ll break my heart if her former owner finds her.’

‘It’s always possible she was abandoned,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘But why would anyone give up such a pretty cat? I don’t think she’s feral. She likes people too much. Wild cats are much more skittish.’

‘Of course, I would feel sad for her previous owners if they’re looking for her but I really hope no one claims her.’

‘Me too.’

The following evening I affixed flyers on various trees and lampposts in the neighbourhood.

6
I can’t find HIM, redux.

I was swallowed up in an abyss of love in an instant. There was no pausing on the brink; no looking down, or looking back.

Charles Dickens, David Copperfield

This is what I understood: there was no going back. None. Desire was a slow burn that would consume me. It didn’t matter. I just wanted HIM. HIM.

This was new territory for me.

The next morning I woke up with a start. It was Saturday. Where was he? I wanted to wake up to HIM. Where was he? Where was he? How could he not be here with me? What if he was still married? I hated that he was never available at weekends. Maybe he was still with her? Maybe he was with someone else. But when I asked HIM about her he always said the same thing: the marriage had run its course. There was no going back.

I remembered our conversation the first night we were together at the hotel and I brought up the subject of his marriage. He had sighed and moaned and looked sad. He said they continued to fight over custody of the children. He told me he lived in a small apartment near their family home. ‘It was the least I could do: leave her with the house,’ he confided. ‘I was the one who left her. She’s never forgiven me for it.’

I’d held HIM close. I could tell he’d gone through a lot.

He told me that one of the reasons he wasn’t available at weekends was that his wife had never really honoured the every-other-weekend agreement of their custody. She’d find reasons to make plans for the children at weekends, when they were supposed to be with HIM.

I’d kissed HIM. I felt sorry for HIM. He was the wronged parent. He seemed so earnest.

Of course I hated her. But if he weren’t available I would have to look the other way. I was absolutely smitten with HIM. It had never been like this before.

It wasn’t just the sex any more. It was the whole package. He practised international law. He jetted off to Europe and Asia. He was in an entirely different class professionally. I’d never been involved with a man like HIM.

So maybe power was an aphrodisiac. Or maybe it was that he kept coming back for more. Perhaps it was his whispering in my ear that he’d take care of me. It was all so alluring.

I loved fucking HIM but I also loved talking to HIM. It was just the beginning of our love affair but when I was with HIM I was certain we’d be together for a long time. He was everything I wanted in a man and more. And the sex, the sex … I got wet just thinking about HIM.

I slipped my fingers inside my pussy, closed my eyes. I could hardly breathe.

I was very close to coming when I opened my eyes to see my newfound cat next to my shoulder, staring at me. ‘Esme,’ I whispered, ‘just a moment.’ And then I closed my eyes again and rubbed myself to orgasm.

Afterwards I climbed out of bed, picked up the cat and took her to the kitchen to feed her. As she ate I cautioned her. ‘Esme. I am a woman who is in the midst of a very intense and sexual love affair. What you saw this morning is just the tip of the iceberg.’

She looked up at me momentarily. I knew she couldn’t hear or understand me, but I also knew she’d be my best confidante in the days to come.

7
Waiting to see HIM …

All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love.

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy,

This is what I understood: I was in so deep and there was no going back. I’d thrown caution to the wind and for what? My mother had taught me about the greatest writers of Western civilisation but she hadn’t versed me in self-protection. I had taken the road with steep cliffs on both sides.

* * *

Several days later I stood on a ladder in the backyard with Sam below me. He and I had decided to harvest the apples from the apple tree. Sam held a pillowcase to collect our bounty. He loved my French apple pie and I intended to make a dozen or so of them over the course of the next couple of days. We’d freeze most of them for later in the year.

It was during this venture that I felt the vibration of my cell in my back pocket of my jeans. I thought about not answering it but I wanted to know if it was HIM. I looked at Sam, who gave me an ironic smile.

‘Answer it already,’ he said.

I reached in my back pocket, the ladder swaying ever so slightly. Sam grabbed the base and held it in place. I removed one of my gardening gloves with my teeth and held it there. I could see it was HIM.

I put the phone back in my pocket. I’d have to read it later. There was no way I could read anything from HIM with Sam in such close proximity. My cheeks had already reddened with embarrassment.

Sam teased me about HIM. ‘You got it bad.’

I smiled weakly. Sam had no idea how much I was banking on this love affair.

I hurried through the task of picking the apples. Sam seemed to sense my anxiety and soon begged off, complaining of a backache. He needed to lie down. I scurried down the ladder. I watched Sam retreat toward his side of the duplex.

‘Let me know if you need anything. I’ll bring over one of my pies soon,’ I yelled after him. But I’d already yanked off the garden gloves and thrown them to the ground. I grabbed the phone out of my back pocket and stared down at the Blackberry’s screen.

HIM: Been in mtgs w/execs all day but kept thinking abt bending u over, doggy style.

ME: God I love it 2. I love it SO much.

HIM: I like to watch ur tits sway when I fuck u.

ME: My tits love it when u r fucking me.

HIM: I will be @ same hotel in downtown next Tues nite. Can you come?

ME: Abso-fucking-lutely.

HIM: Gotta run.

ME: K.

* * *

The next day I drove to a lingerie store on the Boulevard. The shop had a myriad sexy negligées and such. The woman behind the counter looked at me knowingly. She was an older woman with long, dark, curly hair, perhaps in her fifties, but she exuded sexuality. She wore a boho purple dress that managed to show off her curves despite its frilliness.

‘The man I am seeing likes it when I wear sexy outfits,’ I explained.

‘Of course he does,’ she replied. ‘I have just the right item for you. It will drive him wild. Follow me.’

I walked past racks of lingerie, all beautiful and delicate and sexy, but she took me to the back aisle of the store and handed me a package. Inside was a crotchless black lace body suit.

‘Your man will love this. I suspect you will love it too. You are having a good time with this man?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing has been like this before for you, has it?’

‘No,’ I said, barely in a whisper, my face reddening.

I believe she knew I was in the middle of a sexual relationship that was consuming me, body and soul. I was pretty sure she had travelled the same terrain: the darker, out-of-control side of sex. We both knew there was no going back.

‘You have to be careful though. All the sex can make you a little crazy,’ she said.

‘How?’ I asked nervously.

‘The sex takes you places you’ve never been before. But it can consume you.’

‘Yes. But that’s OK.’

‘Enjoy it, my dear. But be careful.’

‘OK.’

‘It’s just that men often have many secrets. You never know who he really is.’

‘He’s very open with me,’ I said defensively. ‘His ex-wife was horrible.’

‘They always are,’ she said with a smirk. ‘Enjoy the ride, but proceed with caution. Don’t always be so available.’

She might as well have told me to bicycle to Mars.

We walked back in silence to the store cash register. I wanted to ask her more about my situation but I really didn’t know her. I gave her my credit card. She ran it through the machine and handed me the package. We smiled at one another.

She put her hand on my shoulder. ‘Take care, honey. Come back to the store whenever you’d like. You can see we have many beautiful negligées, but I’m also here just if you want to talk. Your friends are probably too vanilla to understand what is going on with you.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied, almost in a whisper.

Once home I threw my clothes off and opened the package. It took a while to get the body suit on. I looked at myself in the mirror. My white skin against the black lace made my tits appear enormous. I was very turned on. I rushed to my phone and then back to the mirror. Aiming the phone at the mirror, I snapped the photo. I looked amazing. I sent it to HIM and waited, lying on my bed with the body suit on, expectantly.

He answered me about a half hour later.

HIM: OMG. I luv the photo. Totally hard 4 u. I have to fuck u now!

ME: Be my guest.

HIM: Damn, so busy @ work but can’t wait 2 c u on Tuesday.

ME: U r gonna luv the body suit.

HIM: U look gr8 in it. I want to do all sorts of things 2 u.

ME: U can do whatever u want 2 do 2 me. I want u so bad.

HIM: An offer I can’t refuse.

ME: K. Can’t wait 2 c u. Any chance sooner?

HIM: No. Busy w/kids this wkend. Gotta run. More mtgs.

* * *

And then the weekend was upon me. I had to get through more days before I would see HIM. I hated the weekends without HIM.

I wondered if he was really divorced. I had done for a while. I’d vacillate from wondering about whether he was lying to me to fantasising about the sex we were having. I knew he and I were lost in a world of secret desire.

* * *

I spent the weekend baking apple pies. I brought one over to Sam on Sunday night and then stayed for dinner. He didn’t ask me about HIM.

I kept my phone close by. I was hoping he’d text me but he didn’t.

Waiting for HIM to text me was hell. I could not imagine living like this for ever. My nerves were shot. I wanted to drink or smoke or use drugs and sleep all day or cry all day or injure myself in some way. This was hell.

Heaven was getting a text from HIM.

* * *

On Tuesday, he texted me during my class. The students heard it although I was supposed to have turned my phone off.

‘Excuse me,’ I said to my students. ‘I have a friend in the hospital. Her sister said she’d text me about the test results.’ I paused. ‘She’s OK.’

After the class THE BOY came to my desk. ‘Your friend is in the hospital?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Well, have a good time.’ I was too obsessed to really get crazy about THE BOY’s remarks. But I knew he was on to me.

I left the college early and went home to pick up my bag for the night. Esme followed me around the apartment. I felt guilty about leaving her alone. I scooped her up and held her in my arms. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ I told her. ‘I am so happy you’re in my life.’ She began purring softly and I held her for a long time.

I went into the kitchen, opened a can of catfood and put it into one of her bowls. I also took out the dry catfood and filled another bowl to the brim. I checked her water supply. She was going to be OK without me for the night, but I hurriedly left the duplex while she was still eating. Just as I was leaving I felt my phone vibrate. It was HIM.

HIM: Hey baby, can’t wait 2 c u @ downtown hotel 2nite.

ME: Me 2.

HIM: I have mtg til 8. If u want to come sooner I will leave ur name @ desk.

ME: K.

When I arrived at the hotel the clerk gave me the key to HIM’s room. I saw that he’d already settled in: his open suitcase was on top of the dresser. I looked at the contents. I supposed I was hoping to find clues to determine who he really was. But the items were generic: underwear, socks, several ties. There were several folders with electronic charts and diagrams. He’d put a suit in the closet. I smelled the jacket, taking in the delicious scent of HIM. HIM. He’d soon be inside me. I looked at the clock on the night table next to the bed. It would be several hours before he arrived.

* * *

I took a long bath, reapplied my make-up and put on the body suit. When I looked in the mirror I was once again shocked by how sexy I looked in it. I put one of my fingers in my already wet pussy. I went to the bed and lay down. I didn’t mean to fall asleep but I did.

* * *

I awoke to HIM opening the door. He came and lay down next to me.

He kissed me on the forehead, then took a strand of my hair and brushed it behind my ear. ‘Ah, ah, ah,’ he said.

He began stroking my pussy. He found the place, the very place. He slowly touched me THERE. He was so gentle and I began to move to his touch. I came in a moment of pure ecstasy, and then I came again. I wondered what it was like for HIM to watch me in my most intimate moments, my whole body quivering in delight.

I actually lost count of how many times he brought me to climax. And then we just lay on the bed, not talking.

* * *

He made love to me that evening and again in the middle of the night. In the morning he suggested we shower together. I agreed.

He opened the shower door and let me in first. He lathered me with a bar of soap, then himself. Our bodies glided over one another.

Then he pushed me up against the wall of the shower. He held my hands above my head so I could not move. He released one of his hands long enough to use it to guide his cock into my pussy. He looked down at me again while bringing his hand back up so that he was holding both of my hands up against the wall. It felt like handcuffs.

‘You have to have it this way. I know that about you,’ he whispered in my ear.

‘Of course,’ I whispered back.

‘I’m not kidding,’ he said, pushing his cock deeper inside me. ‘You don’t have a choice. You are the kind of woman that has to be fucked like this.’

‘Yes.’

He was still holding me up against the wall.

‘You need to ask me to fuck you this way.’

‘Will you fuck me this way?’ I asked.

‘I don’t believe you,’ he said withdrawing his cock.

‘Fuck me deeper,’ I said. I’d lost my mind. So completely lost to passion. I needed HIM inside me. I needed HIM so much.

‘Say it again,’ he said, thrusting his cock into me. ‘Louder. I need to know you really mean it.’

‘Fuck me deeper!’

‘Yes. That’s it,’ he said. By then he’d withdrawn his cock almost all the way, and when he thrust it back it went so deep inside me that I gasped.

‘Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me!’ I was crying. We stayed like that for what seemed like hours. He pinned me against the shower wall. My nipples were engorged simply from the sensation of having his penis planted so deeply inside me. It was painful and exciting. All I knew was that I needed HIM to be doing just this.

‘Do it again,’ I commanded and he did.

8
He’s going to Paris. Paris?

Love is not a hot-house flower, but a wild plant, born of a wet night, born of an hour of sunshine; sprung from wild seed, blown along the road by a wild wind. A wild plant that, when it blooms by chance within the hedge of our gardens, we call a flower; and when it blooms outside we call a weed; but, flower or weed, whose scent and colour are always, wild!

John Galsworthy, The Forsyte Saga

This is what I understood: my life had been on hold since the day my mother got sick. After she died, I continued to live but only marginally. And then I met HIM. HIM. It was only after he came into my life that I could see how cut off I’d been from the rest of the world. I had taken the mournful road.

He and I ate breakfast in the room, then left. He kissed me softly in the hotel lobby. He did not set up another date, though I’d hoped he would, so by the time I arrived at college I was on the verge of tears. The students sensed I was vulnerable and remained quiet and passive.

When I got home later I couldn’t stop crying. My tears were the inevitable aftermath of a tryst with HIM, the price I paid for being with HIM.

I quickly changed out of my work clothes and put on an old pair of pajamas. I looked into the mirror and thought I was the exact opposite of the pretty, sexy woman who’d been fucked over and over at a downtown hotel the evening before.

I lit a fire and sat on my sofa looking at the burning logs. But it did not soothe me. I was still weepy. I couldn’t stop thinking about HIM. Esme jumped up on the couch and curled into my lap.

The sex. My God, the sex. He and I were pushing the envelope together. He’d taken me further than I’d gone with anyone. I suspected it was the same for HIM.

I wanted HIM inside me that very moment, to be with HIM night and day, 24/7. I could not live without HIM.

I could not stop crying. Sam came to my door in the late afternoon, holding an empty pie pan. I opened the screen door and took it from him. He looked at my swollen eyes and face. He asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I shook my head.

‘Do you want me to come in?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Well, you know where to find me. The pie was delicious as always.’

I watched him retreat and closed the door. I was feeling so desperate. I found my phone and quickly wrote to HIM.

ME: Where r u? Last night (and this morning) was so amazing.

I waited for HIM to write me back. The wait was excruciating.

When a text message arrived, it had been sent from one of my students who wanted to know when an essay was due. I felt like throwing the phone across the room but quickly texted her back.

Hours later, my phone vibrated again. My heart soared only to crash when I saw that the text was from a telemarketer. Every minute without a text from HIM was empty. My patience was non-existent.

Someone with a foreign accent called me on my cell next. He’d dialled the wrong number. Instead of being polite I screamed at him. What was wrong with me?

Then finally, finally …

HIM: U were spectacular.

ME: I want u inside me all the time.

HIM: I’m abt to catch plane 2 Paris.

ME: WHAT?

HIM: Yes. On biz.

ME: U didn’t say anything.

HIM: I didn’t?

ME: No. Nothing. Why didn’t u say anything?

HIM: I was busy fucking u.

ME: K. But.

HIM: Stop being garrulous. I won’t put up with it.

ME: Meaning?

HIM: I like you a lot but I won’t put up with a needy woman.

ME: You just sprung this Paris trip on me. Not fair.

HIM: Plenty of time to catch up when I get back.

ME: Yes. How long gone?

HIM: 10 days.

ME: 2 long.

HIM: Wish u could be in my hotel rm in Paris.

ME: Me 2.

HIM: U r an incredible lover.

ME: So r u.

HIM: Miss you already.

I hated that he was so far away. I despised that my life seemed so narrow while his was wide open. He was in Paris while I remained in a suburb of a vast forsaken city. It would take me at least six months to save enough money to buy a coach seat on a plane to Europe. I’d have to consider staying at youth hostels even though I would now probably be older than most of the other people staying there. I’d grown up in the neighbourhood where I was born. I’d moved into my landlord’s duplex in part because it was less than a mile away from my mother’s place.

He told me he travelled business class. He said he stayed at four-star hotels and often employed a driver for his international trips. He acted in a self-important manner. I resented HIM for it yet I also admired his social and professional status. I knew I didn’t have a fake bone in my body. What you saw was what you got. That might not be so with HIM. I believe image was important to HIM. Yet I wanted HIM to acknowledge me in his life as an equal, not this common woman he liked to fuck. When he said he was going to Paris I felt left out. Why couldn’t I accompany HIM? There was the matter of my leaving my job during that time. But if we were together, really together, then he would make room for me during these business trips. He’d never invited me to his apartment. I wondered whether I would ever meet his children.

And he never gave me much warning (if any) about these trips. He’d disappeared to Seattle and now to France. He could still be in our city with his wife or another woman. What I did know was that he was not with me right then. He was very far away, wherever he was. Scott Peterson, the famous wife-killer, had called his mistress and told her he was in Paris when in fact he was at a barbecue in Stockton. I always thought it so ironic. Stockton was the polar opposite of Paris. It would be like comparing hot dogs to lobster. And Scott Peterson had gone so far as to mention the fireworks over the Paris sky. Was my lover another Scott Peterson?

I hated that I was in so deep with HIM. There was no trust between us. Yet I lusted after HIM despite my suspicions that he was not being honest with me. What was I to do, tell HIM to send me a photo of himself in front of the Eiffel Tower?

Thinking about HIM in Paris made me think about the novels I had read over the years. Always, always, unrequited love was the central theme. Was I now my own tragic heroine in the novel I called my life?

9
A glorious weekend with HIM …

For time is the longest distance between two places.

Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie

This is what I understood: I’d been alone too long. I’d put all my bets on HIM. HIM. But I hardly even knew HIM. I was starring in my own movie. In the end he would leave me. I’d taken the melodramatic road.

It was my mom who inspired my love for literature. She too loved the written word. When I was a little girl my mom read bedtime classics like Madeline or The Berenstain Bears. But by the time I was in the first grade it was Mark Twain she began to read, as I lay in my bed ready for slumber.

Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn were my favourite characters of all. How could they not be? These boys and their crazy adventures continue to make me smile. But it was the pure beauty of Twain’s colloquial words that my mother and I loved the most. We lost count of the times she read the two books to me. Soon I was able to anticipate the next scene in the book. I’d interrupt her to yell out, ‘No. No. It’s not fair that the King and the Duke have captured Jim. Huck has to rescue him.’ My mother would stop reading the book for a moment and smile. We both knew Huck would manage to free Jim. She’d close the book.