The Affair: Cristiana's Story

by Aidèe Jaimes

  When we were both lying naked, his weight between my legs, he looked into my eyes and I knew he was asking for permission. I gave him my answer when I pulled him in by his buttocks, squeezing the firm muscles as he entered me. His strokes were smooth and controlled at first, his kiss deep and exploring.

  My hands roamed the smooth skin of his broad back, his arms and then back down to that butt I knew I could bounce a quarter off of, feeling the muscles flex as he moved over me. When his movements intensified, quickening as our orgasms neared, I released his lips so that I could breathe deeper, moan louder.

  My climax came hard and I pushed against him, grinding myself even as he pumped, until the waves ebbed and I could see again. With a quick movement, he flipped me onto my stomach, and entered me from behind. He moved my hair to one side, and as he pushed into me again and again, he bit my neck and caressed my breasts until once again I felt that maddening urge to finish.

  “Owen don’t stop!” I begged, and though he did pause once, he didn’t stop until I came again, only then himself letting go.

  He fell onto my back then rolled off, his breathing ragged, sweat on his brow. When we looked at each other, we both started laughing, followed by the awkward explanation that inevitably follows a one night stand.

  “I never do this,” I told him. It was sort of true, I’d never gone to a man’s house on the first night.

  “Yeah, me neither.” He stood and went into an adjoining bathroom where I could see him taking off his condom and washing his hands. “Do you want to shower?”

  I lazily snuggled into the blue jersey sheets that smelled of fabric softener and a little bit of him. “Only if you’re going to shower with me.”

  He walked to the bed and bent over to press a wet kiss to my hip, trailing his tongue all the way up, over my nipple where he paused to suck it, then up to my neck and to my ear. “If I can be inside you again, I will do anything you want.”

  The pressure in my core had already built with what he’d done, but with his very male voice, so low and wanting in my ear, I found myself unable to cool down. Taking him by the neck, I pulled him down to the bed again and flipped him onto his back kissing him with everything I had.

  “I hope you mean that, because tonight I plan on having you inside me all night,” I told him before kissing him again.

  And he was.

  I left his house with a silly grin on my face and a limp. Even now I can still remember seeing him through the rearview mirror as I drove away that night, waving bye to me when I turned down the street.

  Though it wasn’t intended to be more than it was, it felt too intense to leave it behind. But I was leaving for Miami. There was also the matter of another man. I’d already accepted a date and it wouldn’t be fair to Evan if I didn’t give him a shot simply because I’d felt such a connection with someone else.

  The following day I called my mother, dying to tell my best friend everything. Well, maybe not the sex parts. But the emotions, my feelings.

  “I think I met the man I’m going to marry,” I confessed.

  Her brows furrowed, and I remember thinking it odd then, but when she said, “You’re too young to get married, Cris. You need to live, to find yourself first,” I assumed she said it because she was worried I’d move too fast. Now, I wonder if even then she and my dad were having problems.

  For days Owen was all I could think about. Talk about. Dream about. My trip to Miami was torture. I’d forgotten his phone number, or it had been lost. Either way I couldn’t find it in my luggage. I damned myself for having waited to call him because of my date with Evan, feeling guilty over being with one guy and talking with another.

  It hadn’t mattered, the entire night I’d thought of Owen, and when Evan had leaned in to kiss me, I’d turned my face at the last second, his lips landing on my cheek. He’d been crushed, and I tried to ease his pain by giving him a tight hug and telling him I just had too much going on. Yup, too much as in I didn’t want anyone else’s lips on mine except for Owen’s.

  I was afraid I’d lose my chance with him, because I knew he was something special. That I’d screwed up.

  Then again, he didn’t call me either. It wasn’t until over a week had passed and I’d pretty much given up on hearing from him, that he called me. It was lunchtime and I was sitting in the middle of a crowded breakroom. Not recognizing the number, I answered, and when I heard his voice I felt my blood rush to limbs as I fled to another room so that I could talk to him without so many witnesses.

  He could hear it in my voice, I am sure, the giddiness at finally getting a call from him, and the annoyance that it took him forever to do so. “Why did you wait so long to call me?”

  “Why didn’t you call me at all?” he demanded back, but there was definite humor in his tone.

  “I lost your number.”

  “Wow, that’s a terrible excuse. What was the other option, your dog ate it?”

  “It’s the truth. I’m in Miami so I can’t very well look for it at my house. So, what’s your excuse?”

  “My buddy told me I’d look desperate if I called before the required three days. Then afterwards, he told me that I’d look like an ass for having waited three days.”

  “So you waited seven?” He didn’t answer. “Who is this friend giving you such awful advice?”

  “Ray. But it wasn’t his doing. I didn’t call because I didn’t know if you’d want me to, or if what we did was just that one time. Then when I didn’t hear from you…”

  “So what, you thought that I was like, ‘wham bam, thank you man?’”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  I pressed my weight against the wall, playing with the corner of a pictured frame that hung there. “What made you finally call me?”

  “I found your bracelet.”

  “My bracelet?”

  “Yeah, the stretchy one with the black beads.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I’d dropped it.” I had about twenty of those back then, they were so popular.

  “I was at Denny’s this morning and I pulled it out of my pocket and brought it to my nose. It still smells like you.”

  “What do I smell like?” I asked, a little winded imagining him rolling those beads between his fingers, thinking of me.

  “Fresh peaches,” he said on an intake of breath, and I wondered if he held it to his nose even now. I’d have to give it to him, I had been wearing a peaches and cream lotion at the time, so maybe the scent had transferred.

  “So you sat at Denny’s playing with my bracelet. Is that what did it?”

  “They had Maury on one of the televisions. Honestly I can’t remember what the show was about, but I imagined myself on there one day, talking about you. The girl that got away because I didn’t call. My life would be hell, moping around wondering how I could have let the best thing in my life go.”

  Almost jumping with glee at his words, I did a silent hop and sent a little thank you up to the heavens that I’d been given the chance to meet him. “Do you think I’m the best thing? We were only together once.”

  “That’s all it took.”

  That was all it took. Six months later we moved in together. Six months after that, we were married. The chemistry, that passion, never let up. For fifteen years, everything had been bliss.

  22

  The tip tapping of the doctor’s pen against the glass desk brings me back to reality, and I resent her for that. I’d much rather be in the past, falling in love all over again instead of sitting here discussing the present.

  “Beautiful story,” she says. “It is so important that we always remind ourselves of how we fall in love. When you recount the story, I find that it has almost the same effect as it did when you lived it. Sometimes, with the hustle and bustle of life, we tend to forget why it is we fell in love in the first place.”

  “I’ve never forgotten why I fell in love with Owen,” I say, turning to him and smiling. “We still have that bracelet.” It’s true. I w
ore it on our wedding day and now it’s tucked away in our safe so that when Mia marries, if she should choose, she could wear it, too. It’s more valuable to us than our wedding rings.

  “Then you are fortunate,” she says. “But we aren’t just here to remember the good times. Communication and openness shouldn’t just happen when we are happy. It needs to be something we practice at all times in a relationship. In fact, it is most important in the worst of times. It is what will keep that unit together, strong.”

  I look to the floor, nodding slowly, taking in what she’s saying. Afraid of where she’s leading the conversation.

  And then she asks, “Have you given Owen the opportunity to discuss his affair with you?”

  The fucking affair. Of course, she would steer us that way, it’s what we came here to discuss after all, isn’t it?

  “I think that affair has been talked about to death. It’s been put to rest, pardon the pun,” I practically hiss.

  “I meant, have you allowed him to tell you exactly what happened? Have you given him the opportunity to share with you how everything happened so that you can better understand him?”

  “Why the hell would I want to know exactly what happened? I don’t give a damn. All I need to know is that he fucked someone else after he’d sworn loyalty to me. I mean, you don’t want to know what I did in New Orleans, do you?” I ask him incredulously.

  Dr. Riker’s lips tighten. “It is important that everything is laid out on the table, so that any animosity can be either justified or debunked. Owen,” she looks at him. “I think it’s time you recounted the events that led to the affair, so that we can understand the humanity behind the mistake and your feelings on it.”

  Disgusted, I stand. “There is no way in hell I’m going to sit here and listen to this!”

  Why would I want to hear about Owen’s affair any more than I already have? It’s already changed my life completely. Worse yet it’s obvious this doctor has already chosen sides, and she’s definitely on team Owen. Everything she says, the way she says it, irks me.

  I really want to leave, but when Owen touches me gently, and says, “Please Cris. I need this,” I sit down. For him.

  When he starts, I have to grind my teeth to keep from screaming at him. It seems I have little choice however, and I know there is only one way I can sit through it. Remove myself. I am here, listening to his words, but I detach my emotions from the words. Though they still hurt, the memory of it still stings, it’s a dull sort of pain that I can bear.

  “Believe me when I say it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to her. It was definitely not planned and if I could change it, I would. If only I could go back in time. But I can’t.”

  “So you accidentally fucked someone else?” The hate in my voice is so evident even to me, the emotion surprising me, especially when I thought I’d let it go. It had been part of the whole Bo affair compromise. Maybe the doctor is right, maybe we still need to talk about this.

  Still, it hurts to hear it again. It’s like opening up a wound that although hadn’t healed properly, had somewhat closed up.

  “I’m not saying it’s not completely my fault. What I’m saying is that I didn’t premeditate this. It wasn’t something I’d planned or even thought there was any danger of. If it had been a possibility on my radar, I would never have put myself in that situation.”

  I shake my head at his words. “You should never have been in that situation in the first place, Owen. Being alone with another woman in a hotel room would be unacceptable even if you hadn’t slept with her!”

  “I know! I’m in idiot.”

  We both stay quiet, both looking away from the other. I can hear his rapid breathing, then deep breaths as he tries to reign in his emotions.

  “Owen, why don’t you tell us what led you to invite the woman to your room,” Dr. Riker instructs. “Maybe then we can understand how it happened.”

  I cross my arms across my chest subconsciously, and turn to him, but stare at his shoulder instead of his eyes. Having calmed myself after that little outburst of anger, I say, “It’s fine. I’m fine. Go ahead.”

  He lets out a deep breath and wipes at his face. “Well, it wasn’t really anything special. She was the bartender at the hotel I stayed at. We were having a company dinner there, and one of my peers and I headed down for drinks a little early. It wasn’t to get drunk, we just wanted time to talk without everyone around.

  “Mike was interested in her. He flirted with her and thought she reciprocated. She wasn’t someone I found attractive. Really, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have even noticed her at all. So, we have drinks and after dinner he wants to go back to the bar.”

  As he’s telling us how this happened, I begin to imagine it in my head, to see it as a sort of movie playing out. Any details he leaves out, my mind easily makes up, inserting probably more than it should.

  Cassandra. The name is engraved in my life. It will forever be a part of me. When I’m old and withered, still I will remember it.

  She stands behind a wooden counter so heavily lacquered it shines like a mirror. A tight and torn black shirt strains to hold her breasts in, and makes no pretense at hiding fat rolls she doesn’t have. Long strawberry blonde hair falls in loose waves to her waist, but for that one youthful pin that keeps her bangs out of her face.

  Her glossy lips curve up as she offers Mike and Owen drinks. “What can I get for you two fine gentlemen tonight?” she asks.

  Mike, the bachelor who seems to be in some perpetual puberty, sits up at attention and throws her his best “Hey There” smile. “Scotch, neat for me. A Bahama mama for my friend here.”

  Her head snaps to Owen as a chuckle escapes her.

  Owen shakes his head at Mike’s request. “Thanks man. While I do appreciate his thoughtfulness, I’d rather have a beer. IPA?”

  “Sure, we got some.”

  “Okay, I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” Owen says.

  “Comin’ right up!” She cheerfully spins on her heel and walks to the opposite side of the bar where she works on their drinks.

  “Damn, she’s hot! What do you think, late twenties? Early twenties?” Mike asks as he practically eats her up with his eyes.

  Owen looks her way, too, and gives her a quick look over. “Yup.”

  She was a pretty girl, not drop dead hot as Mike made it sound, but pretty in that girl next door sort of way. Smooth skin, wide eyes and pouty lips.

  “I always did like a tall girl. Look at them long legs.”

  “Easy there, Mikey. You need a cold shower?” Owen slaps him on the back and laughs.

  “Here you are, a Bahama Mama for you,” she says putting it in front of Mike. “And a beer for you. Enjoy!”

  “Ah, you killed me, girl!” Mike cries, holding his hand to his heart in mock ache.

  She winks at them and laughs. “You still have lots to learn, my boy!” she yells back at Mike as she walks to another customer.

  Over the next hour, as patrons trickle out, the girl spends more and more time with the men. And as Owen drinks, the more talkative he gets. She’s from Florida, too. They find it incredibly exciting that two people would know about the same areas.

  “You know Fort Myers? Oh my god, me, too!”

  I roll my eyes as I envision them finding this as something to bond over. Fort Myers is huge! Lots of people are from there. But believe it or not, this is the commonality that nearly destroyed us. Not that they were attracted to each other, or that they had been through the same type of tragedy or even been to the same school. My mind may be making up half the shit, filling in lots of blanks, but this little beauty actually is coming out of his mouth.

  After they’d gone on and on about it for too long, and after Mike had had one too many, he sputters something about leaving that neither Owen or Cassandra hear, and he leaves, feeling dejected.

  It’s late, and all of the customers have gone, leaving the place empty and quiet.

  The other emplo
yees close up the place, Cassandra and Owen too engrossed in their conversation to notice. Then, when they finally come up for breath, chairs are turned over tables, the floors are freshly mopped and the kitchen staff has left.

  “Time to go! You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” someone yells, holding the door open for them.

  Cassandra grabs her things and mimes, “sorry” to the guy, and they walk out into the lobby.

  “It was really great getting to know you,” Owen tells her. “Maybe we’ll catch up again some other time.”

  “Maybe tomorrow night?” she asks hopeful.

  “No, I leave tomorrow. But we come here all the time. See ya!” he tells her and walks away.

  “Owen!” she calls to him and he turns around. “You said Crawford Co. is looking for a receptionist? Could you tell me more about it? I’d really be interested in a daytime job. These night shifts kill me. My feet hate me and so does my back.”

  “Well, it’s for the offices here. It would be best to inquire about it directly,” he tells her, bowing his head and making to leave.

  She stops him. “Could you give me some pointers?” Pushing her thick hair behind her ear, she looks up at him with shy doe eyes. “Maybe some details I could use during the interview that would give me an advantage? I’d be so grateful. I could come up to your room for just a minute.”

  My blood boils as he tells me how it is that she ended up in his room. Could he be any dumber?

  “Owen, I’m not sure you’re doing yourself any favors by telling me the details. Do you know how stupid you sound? How could you not see that she wanted in your pants!”

  “I just didn’t. I was drunk. And yes, I was very, very stupid.”