Him

‘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.