by Mia Asher
Magic.
As the kiss comes to an end, my body feels like it’s floating on air and my mind is slightly aware of four facts:
My feet are not touching the ground.
He has his arms wrapped around my waist. Tight.
I just kissed a total stranger in the middle of a busy street.
And last but not least...
It felt amazing!
When he lowers me to the ground, his wavy black hair falls over his eyes, covering his expression. He takes a deep breath as he pulls his hair behind his ears and looks at me. Once again, butterflies are attacking my stomach as if they are bullets shot from within my soul.
I need to say something, ask him for his name and maybe his phone number.
Yes, I definitely need his number.
But all I can do is stare at him, afraid he might disappear. I watch as he lifts his hand and softly cups my cheek. His hand feels like it was meant to be there all along—so natural. Closing my eyes, I feel a warm shiver run down my spine, raising goosebumps on my skin. With my eyes shut, I don’t see that his mouth is close to my ear until I feel his breath tickling it and hear him whisper words that make my knees go weak. His words take me by surprise.When I open my eyes to ask him what he meant, he gives me a cocky smile, and then turns around and walks away, leaving me all alone on a busy street. I feel shocked, breathless, and stunned.
Did I imagine what just happened?
No, I don’t think so.
It was real.
He was real.
I can still taste the tangy flavor of the apple he must have eaten on my lips. I can still feel the warm imprint of his hand on my cheek.
I shake my head and turn around quickly to see if I can make out his retreating figure amongst the sea of people. I want to catch up to him and ask him for his name. I need to know his name. But I’m too late.
He’s already gone.
Suddenly, I feel so alone.
He is gone.
Feeling dazed, and knowing that I must look like a drowned rat, I try to look for a cab. I thought this kind of thing only happened in movies or books, not in real life. At least not in mine.
A cab finally stops in front of me, and I’m about to get in when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I come face to face with the last guy I ever expected to see again. Standing in front of me is the stranger I just kissed.
“Hey,” Mr. Cocky Smile says.
The way he’s smiling at me opens a floodgate of shivers as powerful as a storm surging inside me, shivers that inundate my senses, running up and down my body.
I’m glued to the ground, and I think my mouth might be hanging open.
It’s not until the cab driver yells at me that I snap out of my rude ogling trance.
I cannot believe it’s him.
Again.
“Miss, are you getting in or not?”
My attention on the driver first, I turn to look at the handsome stranger, wondering what to say to him, but he speaks first.
“I was halfway to class when I realized I hadn’t asked your name,” he says, watching me closely.
I don’t know what to do or say, so I voice the first words my brilliant mind can come up with, “Um…”
This guy is making my face burn like a bonfire.
“Nope. You definitely don’t look like an Um. More like a Wow.” He smiles, making the same delicious dimple deep on his left cheek appear once more.
How can a guy be this perfect?
If my face felt hot before, now it feels like it’s burning. Forest fire burning. What do you say to that? It’s all kinds of sweet and funny. Come on, Cathy! Say something.
“Ha. You’re funny. You know that, right?”
“No, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was just stating a simple fact.”
Still blushing, I notice that he’s watching me closely once more. Thinking that there must be something wrong with my appearance, my hands go straight to my hair as he steps closer to me. “I-I…Is there something wrong?” The closeness of his body sends my mind spiraling into an abyss where coherent speech seems to be nonexistent.
Without answering my question, his hand moves towards my face. When his thumb strokes the crest of my cheek, I can feel the softness of his finger against my skin. It has been so long since I felt a guy touch me so tenderly.
I notice his face is much closer to mine than before, his hot breath hitting my lips. He’s watching me with eyes that roam my face as if memorizing every single feature of mine…my nose, my cheeks, and lastly, my mouth.
When he looks up, our eyes connect for a brief instant, and he takes a deep breath. “Um, may I have your phone number?”
“Is she getting in or what?” The cabdriver yells once more.
Without breaking eye contact with me, he addresses the cabdriver, “Give us five, man.”
“B-but why?” I ask stupidly. I know what I want but could he possibly want the same?
“Isn’t it obvious?”
I shake my head because it’s not.
“You really don’t know, huh?” he says huskily.
“Um…”
“Listen, how about this, I’ll let you get in that cab under two conditions. You must give me your number, and you must agree to go on a date with me three days from now.”
Can this really be happening to me?
“But that’s Friday.”
Shouldn’t this beautiful man already have a date for Friday? Only dateless losers stay home on a Friday night. Example. Me.
“So what?”
“It’s a Friday. Shouldn’t you be busy? With a date, or something?”
“I’m trying to get myself a date, but the stubborn girl won’t give me a chance.” Smiling, he looks at me. Like, really looking at me.
“Oh. You want to go out with me?” Holy shit. He does.
“I want to do more than that. But for now, I would be more than happy if you would give me your Friday night.”
“Why?” I blurt the question before I realize that I kind of don’t want to know his answer.
“Why, what? Why do I want to take you out?”
I nod my head yes.
“Besides the obvious.” He pushes himself closer to me and whispers in my ear, “Because I can’t fucking wait to kiss you again.”
Oh.
“Why don’t you do it now?” Shit. Where the hell is this Slutty Cathy coming from?
“Simple,” he says. I can feel the heat radiating from his body onto mine as his eyes roam my face once more. “Because I want to pick you up at your doorstep. I want to bring you flowers. I want to tell you how beautiful you look. I want to see you blush when I compliment you. I want to see you fuss over the flowers while you offer me a glass of water. And if you live with your parents, I want to shake your dad’s hand and tell him that I will take care of his daughter and that I won’t bring her home too late. Then, I will compliment your mother with how beautiful she is. Because only a beautiful woman could have given birth to someone as pretty as you.”
He caresses my cheek tenderly. “Then, you will blush and take my hand in yours to get me out of the house as fast as possible so I don’t embarrass you anymore. When we’re outside, I will take your hand in mine and walk you to my car. I’ll open the door for you, let you in, and then once the door is closed, I’ll make my way to the driver’s seat. But before I start the engine, I want to turn to look at you, sitting there, blushing. I want to grab you by the neck,” his words reflect his actions as he grabs the back of my neck tenderly and brings our faces closer together, “bring your perfect lips close to mine. And then…”
“Yes?” I swallow hard.
“And then finally kiss you,” he whispers huskily, his eyes boring into mine.
Oh my God.
“So, do we have a date?” he says, smiling smugly.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly as my pulse begins to race.
“You won’t regret it, Wow,” he says, smiling.
&nb
sp; “My name is Cathy,” I smile in return.
“I like that. You look like a Cathy. Sweet, innocent, and perfect.”
“Oh.”
I seriously want to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“My name is Ben, by the way.”
“Nice meeting you, Ben,” I murmur softly.
Putting my hand out for a handshake, Ben totally rocks my world when he takes it and brings it to his lips, planting a kiss I feel all the way to my bones. Dumbstruck, I let go of his hand and watch Ben step to the side, opening the door wider for me to get in.
Is this guy for real? I don’t know whether to swoon, or burst out laughing. I kind of want to swoon, though.
“Okay. Thank you. I, um, I guess I’ll wait to hear from you?”
“Sure.” He smiles.
After we exchange numbers and say a quick goodbye, I get in the cab and give the driver my address. I feel in a daze as if I’m standing still while the world moves around me at a fast speed.
I feel my phone vibrating. Well, I guess it didn’t die after all. I take my cell out and notice I have a text from an unknown number.
1(347) 886-8688: Hey, Cathy. I meant what I said on the street.
I smile as I remember what he whispered in my ear.
“Too late. Lighting has already struck.”
I burst out laughing, then look out the window. As I gaze at my reflection, I decide that maybe I don’t hate the rain after all.
Ben.
Oh, yes.
Most definitely.
Ben: On my way home. Picked up the dry cleaning and some dinner from Past-Tina’s. Wasn’t sure if you’re going to have dinner with Amy and the new guy, but figured you might be hungry when you get home if you didn’t. Good luck, babe.
That is Ben for you, always thoughtful. Looking down at my screen, my fingers hover over the digital keypad on my phone. I really should reply to his text and thank him for thinking about me, but I don’t. Not sure why. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like starting a text message conversation with him, maybe it’s because I am running late, as always, and I need to get to the airport pronto. Or maybe it’s because I just don’t feel like typing.
Shoving my phone in my Burberry bag, I decide to give Ben a call on my way to the airport. I’ll be leaving as soon as Amy gives me the information on Mr. Radcliff’s flight, anyway. Yippee…can’t wait to meet another Hotel Magnate jerk who thinks the sun rises and sets on his ass.
Bruno Radcliff just acquired the hotel where Amy and I work. The chain was known as Dreams Hotels, but now we are part of the bigger and more exclusive Radcliff Conglomerate. So yes, Mr. Radcliff is a big deal in the hotel world.
Amy, my boss, is the director of sales and marketing. She manages all the top accounts and key clients. I’m a sales coordinator, and my job is to support whatever Amy needs help with. I look after clients who want to book their hotels, VIP celebrities, corporate clients, and handle complaints.
Feeling a little nervous. I make my way to the bathroom to touch up my makeup and hair. As I’m running my fingers through my shoulder length blonde hair in front of the mirror, I hear my phone ringing.
“Cathy Stanwood.”
“Hi, babe.” Hearing Ben’s deep voice makes me smile at my reflection. After eleven years together, not a day goes by when he doesn’t call or text me just to say hello and ask how my day is going. Sometimes I wonder if he will ever grow bored with me, with married life, kissing and having sex with just one woman, the same woman, for the rest of his life.
Does he ever imagine he’s fucking someone else when he’s inside of me?
I don’t have fantasies of other men, but I am bored…so bored. I often wonder when the ticking time bomb of our relationship will explode. If Ben will wake up one day and ask himself what he’s doing with me, and where his life has gone. If he’ll wonder what would have happened if he hadn’t met me, if we hadn’t bumped into each other on that rainy day, if we hadn’t met and fallen in love…
I know I do.
“Hi.” Holding the phone between my shoulder and ear, I take the pocket size perfume I always carry with me and spray it on my body. Rubbing the perfume on my wrists, I’m enveloped by the fruity and citrusy notes of my favorite smell.
“What are you doing?” I say in the flirty voice that he enjoys so much. I rarely use it anymore. When we were young and deeply in love with each other, that voice came out only when I wanted two things: forgiveness or sex.
“Just got home. And I’m petting your pussy,” his deep voice rumbles in the phone.
“What?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, babe. I would like to, don’t get me wrong, but you aren’t here at the moment, so instead I’m cheating on you with Mimi.” I hear him chuckling as I picture what he’s doing at the moment.
Ben is probably sitting on the leather chair in his office, running a hand through his hair as our cat, Mimi, tries to crawl under his white Brooks Brothers dress shirt. His suit jacket will be thrown carelessly over the old worn out leather sofa that he refuses to get rid of because it reminds him of our first years as a married couple. He even named it.
Having just finished a vigorous round of sex, I laid on the couch with only his unbuttoned shirt on me, revealing my body. With one of my legs hanging off the couch, and the other tucked under my ass, I was exposed for Ben. I felt so sensual and beautiful after each time he made love to me. I didn’t care that I wasn’t perfect like him, or that my hips were nonexistent, or my breasts too small. He made me feel beautiful.
He came back from the kitchen wearing nothing but an I-just-fucked-you-silly kind of grin; it made me smile and my insides felt like they were performing somersaults. Watching him walk towards me in all his naked glory, I admired his tanned chest, and the way the sweat made his large muscles shine. He had a glass in his hand with only ice in it. His hair was a complete mess from me pulling it…I could only imagine what mine looked like. Sex hair was the best thing in the world; it kind of made you want to give it another go.
A smiling Ben kneeled next to me on the couch as his fingers slowly opened the shirt wider, baring me to him. With my front completely naked to his eyes, he took an ice cube out of the cup. “I think we should name this couch.”
I laughed and closed my eyes as I felt the ice cube in his fingers hit my warm skin. “Yes? What…are you…um…thinking about?”
I was wondering why it was taking him so long to answer my question, when I felt the heat of his tongue tracing the path of goosebumps the ice was leaving behind. He traced the ice cube around the tip of my nipple, making it pebble. The numbing sensation of the ice made my nipple hurt, but it felt delicious.
Just as I was about to protest, his mouth closed around it, sucking it deep inside. I moaned long and hard. The cold of the ice and the warmth of his mouth were the perfect recipe for disaster; even a nun would have a hard time keeping her legs closed. When I felt the ice cube caress my clit, then move lower, entering me, I opened my eyes.
Wow.
I didn’t know whether I should be shocked or turned on. Smiling, Ben spread my legs open for him as he positioned himself between them. The ice was melting inside of me, making me shiver. I watched Ben’s head lower as his tongue licked his lips whilst withdrawing the ice cube from inside of me and popping it in his mouth.
My limbs trembling, I whispered, “Again?”
“Yes. Again, and again, and again, until you can’t remember your name. And it should be the love couch…” he replied huskily.
My laughter got lost in a moan when I felt his cool tongue inside of me again, licking the mixture of ice water and me.
Yes, those were the days.
Those were the days when the sight of one another would make us so horny and desperate that we would end up making love. Sometimes it was rough; all you could hear were the slapping sounds of our bodies, moans, groans, a lot of curse words too. Other times it was tender and sweet; Ben would hold my hand, ou
r fingers intertwined the entire time he was inside of me, moving, filling me, never looking away.
Ben would whisper in my ear how hard I made him…how much he wanted me…how the world meant nothing to him without me in it. But no matter whether we made love or screwed each other’s brains out, two things remained the same—the couch and our thirst for each other.
However, nowadays our sex life is a complete and totally different story.
Is there even a sex life to speak of?
What happened this morning in the kitchen is sadly not the rule anymore, but the exception to how much sex we have. We’re lucky if we both make it to bed at the same time. Early in our relationship, we lived and breathed for the sole reason of being with each other; spending pretty much every second we were together naked and having sex everywhere we could think of, trying to break our own record of how many times we made each other come with our mouths and our bodies. These days, though, I feel adventurous if I wear one of his tees without any underwear on. And, most times, if Ben doesn’t initiate sex, I avoid it.
What is the point?
It hurts to think that we are just wasting our time. I miss the closeness and intimacy sex brought us, but the hoping and waiting that comes after every time we are physically together only chips another piece of me away, of our relationship away, until there will be nothing to put back together. It makes it seem like work.
And it hurts to know that it’s only the two of us, our cat, and my empty womb.
“Cathy, are you there?” Coming out of my reverie, I realize that I had completely tuned Ben out of my thoughts…again. Am I a terrible person because I can’t even pay attention to my husband? God, I really do need therapy.
“Sorry, babe. What were you saying?”
