It had been years since she'd seen him. She puzzled the reality of her submission. She promised herself she'd never respond to a call from him again. That she'd inherit her power and stand clear.
She caved and could not understand it.
She stepped in the hotel and took the elevator. She stared off with guilt. Cursed herself for falling for it. It was not a difficult exchange. He called. She knew it was he but she answered anyway. He didn't call from a number she recognized. It was the obscurity of time in which he would call. Usually late nights. That's how it use to happen. That's how it would always happen. She understood his habits.
She answered and sounded meek.
-"Hello?"
-"Can I see you?"
-"...okay."
She hesitated in her agreement. He heard it in her voice but it didn't matter to him. He wanted what he wanted. To be considerate would damage the outcome. So he fondled her weakness. He knew how. Always did. He'd wallow in her self hate and conjure a false confidence. He'd tell her she's beautiful. She's smart. She's passionate. Not even she knew what she was passionate about and some how he did. This caused her to trust him. This caused her to buckle at his every demand.
He sees something I don't. He knows me better than I know me. He pays attention. He gets me. That's all I ever wanted was for some one to get me.
Not even Steve "got" her. Not in the way she wished for. During their seventeen month relation Steve listened. Steve asked questions. Never the "right" questions for her. She mentioned "him" to Steve several times. Steve stayed patient. He tried to understand. He gave it time and figured she'd get past it.
She didn't.
She called his name out in her dreams. When Steve woke her she was delirious of the circumstance...but could not deny the possibility of it's truth. Steve left that night. She didn't miss him. She trashed him to her friends.
-"What a coward!" they'd say as a the liquor flowed with laughter, bad music and shallow men. They erased Steve's memory with after parties. They distracted her with the moment. They'd feed her enough spirits for her to anticipate a hang'over, but hold the satisfaction of having moved on.
The rush of the cold jolted her into realization. She cursed herself for being there. She punished her soul with guilt. She told herself to turn away. To go. To forget about it. But the concept of "obligation" kept her commited. She could not disappoint him. She could not back out. Not now. Not after she'd said "okay." The relation was forbidden by all she knew. Especially Kim. She once confessed her love for him to Kim. It paralyzed Kim. Kim responded full of judgment. Full of morality.
-"You have to walk away," Kim would say. "You have to walk away now."
In a way, she had. But only in the sense that he had not called in years. That he had been off the map, therefore harmless. She figured she could love him as long as he stayed away. She never thought about the possibility of his return (though she dreamed it). Kim found it a danger. A risk to her pride. No matter though. Kim was no longer a factor. Not since she married a Pastor and turned away from her previous life.
She stood before the door with a tremble. Not from the cold. Now from anticipation. She envisioned his look. The move of his body. The heat of his breath. She mused his look and how it must have changed over the years. His voice was still the same. She felt the rush through her gut when he spoke on the phone. It put her at a chaotic calm that wrestled with her lust for danger and the forbidden. He was her first so she could not cross him out. Not like Steve. He was easy. He was far down the road (number 48 to be exact).
But he was number one. Late night habits even then. This was how she learned it. Her nocturnal sex drive that achieved her many admirers through the years.
In the hallway she tried to find a smile. She only found the footprints for which she allowed him to walk over her. And this gave her comfort. She gave in to the use. She had no children so the need to be needed was an obsession. At least she thought it was "need." She needed it to be "need."
He stood handsome in the frame of the door. Built like a lumberjack. Plad shirt. Workman's jeans. White socks. Traces of Grey in his beard with whiskey and pall malls scenting his pores. He welcomed her with a smile. She stepped in with her head down. Far too shy to give a proper greeting, she awaited his first move. He took her in a hug and she exhaled a debachurous sigh. She inhaled the whiskey from his body; the aroma of cigarettes gave sense memory. A time of youth. A time of indoor smoking. A time that made her smile. A smile she had not found in years. Not until now. She didn't even know she was smiling until he pointed this out to her. She didn't know she was crying, either, until he pointed this out to her. She'd stopped thinking for the moment. But not for long. She began to work the alibi in her head in case the question of "what'd you do last night" were to come up. She worried everyone would know where she'd been. That she'd give it away some how.
No matter. Not an issue until the time comes. For now, she's here. With him. Where she hardly belongs, but where she's the most comfortable; comfortable within the chaos. b
-"Take off your pants," he whispered.
She did so without hesitation. She breathed heavy like a male virgin. Her thighs shook as she removed each leg from her jeans. He turned her around and caressed her lower body. This was what he'd dreamed of when he called. Her lower body. He liked the rest of her too. But for now, this was what he wanted. He unbuttoned and entered. It was easier than he thought it'd be. Too easy. She vocalized her pleasure like a "thank you." She orgasm'ed within seconds. She called out to him in that way she knew he liked. The sound of her caused him to loose control and finish on her lower back just above her dragon tattoo. He had never seen this tatoo so he knew it was recent.
-"How long ago did you get that?"
-"Six months ago."
-"I was gonna say, 'cause it wasn't there the last time."
-"It's been awhile."
She could hear the "you gotta go now" in his voice. Normally she'd take the hint and leave. But this time she wanted to make him work. She wanted him to say it. She wanted to hear it in plain text. She refused to submit to his passivity. She had to convince herself that she had a shred of control. Even within the walls of a lie.
He tried to maintain decency but it was hard. He was done with her. Finished. She was no longer sexy to him at that moment. Maybe after she'd gone he'd revisit her in his mind; but he did not want the responsibility at that moment. But he couldn't tell her that. Not so quickly.
-"You doing okay?" he asked
-"No."
-"You need money?"
She never answered. But he shelled out five bills anyway. He'd always been like this. He'd been paying her off since the dawn of man. He'd send random cash in Christmas cards; birthday cards; all of them with the same enscription: "Thinking of you!"
She'd stack the cards in a shoe box and often place the money in soup cans. This money had been building for years. She had no clue how much was there. She felt too guilty to spend it.
He stood with low patience; hands in pockets. She realized she did not have the courage to wait him out. His passive disposition was too strong. She made her way to the door but did not reach for the knob. Not at that moment. She stood, head down, hands to her side, feet pointed inward. She wanted to hear something from him. Something endearing. A tib-bit of comfort.
He said:
-"I have to get up early."
She stormed out. Down the elevator and back out to the cold. She ignored cat calls from random pretty boys on bar patios. She shunned the whistles from the cars full of college boys. All things she would normally take as confirmation to her beauty. All of which she'd normally egg on to store in her reserve when she needed a boost. But not this night. Not at this moment. She walked with hands in pockets. A throb in her pelvis. His scent in her nose.
