by L. B. Dunbar
We drove in silence back toward the neighborhood. My hand didn’t leave hers. I was afraid to release her. Afraid that if I let her fingers go, she would walk away — abandon me when I finally found someone like her.
“I already told you Nate had an affair,” she broke the silence. My thumb rubbed up and down the back of her hand. “What I didn’t tell you was that I caught him.” I risked a quick glance at her while I drove.
“He was making all these crazy excuses. Working late. Going in on Saturday. All practical excuses, if it had been tax season. But it wasn’t. Then one night I heard him on the phone late at night. It was three in the morning. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I heard his voice. Tender. Sweet. He didn’t use that tone with me.” She took a breath.
“A few weeks later, I picked up his phone. The screen was locked but a text message appeared. She missed him. Whoever she was, she missed him. A quick search of his recent calls showed hundreds to one number.” She continued to stare out the front window.
“I don’t want to ever feel again, the way I felt then. The helplessness. I had put my career on hold to raise our children who were still younger than toddlers. I had nothing. Even with Nate, I had nothing. I vowed that my children would be my focus. I would devote myself to them. It was the reason I took Nate back even after the woman called our home and played a tape of them together.”
“My children came first for nearly eighteen years, Merek. And I’m being selfish, but I want me back. I wanted something for me, that wasn’t related to Nate or the girls. I wanted to be wanted. Can you understand that need?” She swiped at her cheek to clear a tear. I could understand her, maybe more than she knew.
“Seeing that woman in your arms was like a cold splash of water. A wake-up call. While I knew there were others, this was so visibly in my face.”
“The past, Emme,” I interrupted her. “The past.”
“In my head, I know that. Just like with Cassie and Mitzi. I know you had nothing to do with what happened. I actually blame me. If I had been home, she would not have gone out. If I had been home, she could have called me. She knew I was out with you. She didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want me to worry. I put my child at risk because I wanted to be wanted.”
“Emme, no. No, that’s not what happened.” My thumb pressed harder and I pulled over to the side of the road.
“Look at me.” My hand came to her chin, forcing her to face me. My thumb swiped a tear by her lips. “This wasn’t either of our faults. We’re adults, and we also deserve to be adults. We deserve…things. There are a million scenarios to prevent what happened, but none of them involve us, because this could have happened another way, another day.” She nodded, agreeing with me.
“I’m frustrated and I’m caught between what I think I deserve and what I think I should do.”
“What you should do is reach for what you deserve. They should be the same thing.” I didn’t know Nate Peters, but he didn’t sound like a great man. While I’d never be perfect, I couldn’t see how his lack of attention made him an honorable husband. Having an affair clearly dishonored Emme, but his unfaithfulness had nothing to do with me. What I did know of relationships was that trust was built, and that took time. And I wanted that time with Emme.
“Just take me home,” she muttered as another tear fell. Her body language let me know she shut down. She turned away from me. The Emme I had experienced, the one who strived to take what she wanted, was closed off in the woman sitting next to me. I pulled back into traffic and headed for the neighborhood.
“What are we doing here?” I snapped, as we pulled up in front of Merek’s house.
“We’re going inside my house. You’re going to take me up on my offer for a ride. On me. Then we’re going to make love and make up with one another.” The words were definitive and he exited the truck before I could speak. He came around the vehicle quickly and opened my door.
“Why are we at your house?” I couldn’t even comment on his directive for what we were about to do.
“Because I’m tired of pretending. I want you in my bed. In my house.” He reached for my hand and tugged me forward. I should protest. My brain screamed to stop. Be rational. Question his motives. My body, however, cried out to lose control. I followed his lead to the sidewalk where we were suddenly stopped by a white haired, older woman walking her dog.
“Ms. Carmichael,” Merek addressed her. “Good evening.”
“Hello, Mr. Whittington.” She flirtatiously spoke his name. “What a lovely night.” She looked up at the stars before returning to face us.
“Am I finally meeting the Mrs. Whittington?” she asked in my direction. Merek squeezed my hand as he answered.
“Ms. Carmichael, you know I’m not married,” he teased.
“Well, then who’s this tart?” Feigned shock rang out her elderly voice with a faint smile and a wink at me.
“My girl…,” Merek said, cutting himself off while squeezing my hand a second time, and shaking his head in dismay.
“You said you weren’t available,” she shrieked, in mock horror, her hand covering her heart.
“I’m not,” he said, and looked at me, bringing my hand to his mouth, and kissing it.
“Ah, so you’ll be Mrs. Whittington soon?” She winked at me.
“Oh, I don’t….” Merek leaned forward toward this quirky old woman, stopping me. He cupped his hand like he was about to tell her a secret. Whispering loudly, he said: “She doesn’t know that yet.”
Ms. Carmichael covered her mouth in surprise, then giggled before looking up at me. Her eyes softened and she smiled like she knew a secret, as if I hadn’t just heard their conversation. She shook the dog’s leash and walked around us.
“You know you just started a rumor,” I said, stumbling behind him as he nearly dragged me down the side path of his house. He didn’t answer me.
“You’ve been tugging me all over tonight. First down the street toward the bar, then in the bar. Why are you pulling me all over like you’re in a rush to get …” His mouth crashed mine as soon as we were in the door. Our lips argued, biting and nipping. He was right. We were both angry and frustrated.
“I was in a rush,” he said, pulling away slowly, but keeping his mouth mere millimeters from mine. “I’ve been racing toward this moment tonight. The one where I have you alone.” His mouth covered mine again, this time slowing in pace to savor my lips from top to bottom.
“Emme, if I don’t get my mouth on other parts of you soon, I’m going to spontaneously combust.” I giggled at the severity of his comment, but his mouth covered mine again as if he absorbed the laughter, devoured it for its flavorful essence.
He maneuvered us toward the stairs, hardly releasing my lips as we moved. At the base of the staircase, he released me, then took my hand and climbed the stairs. He was no longer tugging, but leading me.
We entered his room and he sat on the edge of the bed. His hands roamed upward over my body, removing the jean jacket. His head came forward to rest against my abdomen and my arms wrapped around him. We remained like this for a moment before his mouth covered my breast over the material of my dress. Reaching for the thin straps, he slipped the dress down my body to pool on the floor. I stood before him in a strapless bra, boy short underwear, and borrowed cowboy boots. Standing abruptly, his presence forced me to step over the dress while he dragged his shirt out of his jeans, then he pulled it over his head. He kicked off his boots and removed his jeans.
“Take off the rest,” he demanded, seductively. “Leave the boots on … for now.”
My body trembled with excitement at his commanding voice. My core screamed for me to follow orders. He sat back on the bed in only his boxers. Then he lay back, watching as I removed my underwear and bra. The sense of exposure was overwhelming. I’d never stripped before anyone like this and the need to cover myself was powerful. But the lust in his eyes gave me the confidence to continue.
“Climb me,” he comm
anded, his hands crossing behind his head. I straddled his hips, but one hand on my hip encouraged me to move upward.
“Higher,” he demanded. I walked on my knees over him to cover his chest.
“Remember what I said in the truck?” His voice was like water over river rocks. “You’re taking this ride, Emme. Because you can trust me.” With that he slipped his body lower, and my core covered his face. We did what he directed, and I’ve never felt more wanton, more sexually carefree, in my life. His heavier stubble against my thighs added to the sensory overload of his tongue between sensitive folds while I rode his face. I fell forward, unable to hold my own weight. On hands and knees, he devoured me and I screamed his name in relief. He was correct. We were angry and frustrated, and this physical release drained the negative energy out of me.
Within seconds, he flipped me and covered my body. Lifting my hips, he slammed into me while my backside rested against his thighs. He balanced above me on his knees, moving my body in the way he wanted to give him the satisfaction he desired. His thumb came between us as he slid aggressively in and out of me. The friction on that sensitive nub, sparked a new fire. The tender tingles rose from my toes.
“Merek,” I choked, knowing I was about to implode.
“Come on, darlin’. I’m so deep inside. I want to feel you explode around me.” His demanding tone took me over the edge again and then he stilled. The pulse of him inside of me set off a wave of aftershocks. My orgasm didn’t seem to be ending. My knees clamped at his sides, holding him in me. His grip on my hips was so tight I was sure I’d see fingerprints later. Filled to the hilt had new meaning to me. There was no way to tell where he ended and I began.
Slowly, he released my hips, lowering them to the bed. He slipped out of me and fell to his back. An arm came over his face, covering his eyes. We both exhaled rapidly, filling the room with our heavy breathing.
“I think I just saw another universe,” he said, breathlessly.
“What?” I giggled.
“You make me see stars, Emme, but that was so intense, I think I just discovered a new universe.” His arm dragged to his side and his head rolled to face me. “You’re my universe, Emme,” he said softly.
“The moon, the stars, asteroids, meteors, and all the black space in between.” His tone was serious while the image of infinity filled my head. “You’re everything to me.”
I rolled my body to take his mouth tenderly with mine. We kissed slowly, softly, while our breaths regulated and returned to normal. Kissing was breathing. His oxygen became mine, and vice versa. Time ticked, our mouths clicked, and minutes rolled on as our lips joined over and over and over again, keeping us connected.
“Are you still angry?” he muttered, forcing me onto my back with the motion of his body.
“No. I strangely feel much better,” I said, kissing those dimples, tracing one with my tongue. His mouth captured it and sucked it into his.
“Ready to make-up now?” he asked softly, the tip of his tongue outlining my lips.
“Yes,” I sighed, feeling the weight of his length pressed into my thigh. He slipped into me gently, filling me with affectionate anticipation. We sighed in unison as we reunited again after only a short time apart.
“Merek,” I said into his shoulder. He pulled back to look at me under him.
“You’re everything to me, too.” My voice was hardly more than a whisper. He stilled inside me and rolled us, so he was on his back. He pulled me down to take my mouth hard. His tongue lingered. His lips savored. Suddenly, he released me. Pushing me gently to sit upright over him, he took my hands with his to support me.
“Take a ride with me, Emme,” he said, and while the line was straight from the history of our relationship, his meaning was not an innuendo. The future was going to be one hell of a drive.
“Dad?” The faint cry wafted up from the lower level of Merek’s home. He covered me with most of his body, pinning me to the bed.
“Dad?” The voice grew louder, closer.
“Merek?” I whispered.
“Hmmm,” he muttered sleepily.
“Merek, I think your kids are home.”
His head shot upright. His neck twisted so he could look at the clock on the stand by his bed.
“Shit,” he said, leaping off of me. I sat upright, taking the sheet with me for coverage.
“Stay,” he demanded, holding out his hands, his naked body standing at the end of his bed. He reached for something on the floor and picked up the white t-shirt that had been under his plaid shirt. Slipping it over his head after stepping into a pair of basketball shorts, Merek turned and exited his room, closing the door behind him.
My heart raced. I didn’t know what to do. Do I dress and climb out the window? My eyes travelled to the one on the left of the room. There didn’t appear to be a tree close enough. I twisted to look at the window over the bed. No tree there either. My arm wrapped over the sheet covering me, I could feel the rapid thud of my heart through my chest.
Shaky fingers combed through my wild hair, and I giggled.
We were caught.
I covered my mouth with a shaky hand, stifling the growing laughter.
Oh my God, we were caught by his kids.
My body began to tremble as I suppressed the need to burst out laughing.
Oh my God, we were caught by his kids, and I was still in his bed.
A squeak leaked from my lips. Oh my God, we were caught by his kids, I was still in his bed, and I’d have to do a walk of shame to get out of here.
The need to laugh stopped. Hysteria was taking over. I fell back and cackled.
This could not be happening, I told myself. If I worried about rumors from an old lady, the gossip from his children would be immeasurable.
Neighborhood headline reads: Mrs. Peters Got Caught Having Sex with Mr. Whittington. Two neighbors. In the bedroom. With uncontrollable lust. But this wasn’t a game any longer. Merek almost called me his girlfriend. He told the old lady I was going to be his wife.
I sat up again, my heart racing anew. Could I marry again? The thought had never crossed my mind. I enjoyed my independence. I was a modern woman. I didn’t need a man to complete me. I could live alone.
The thought stopped me.
While I was all those things, the bottom line was: I didn’t want to be alone. While I was independent, I wanted to be able to lean on someone. While I was a modern woman, I still believed in tradition and romance. While I didn’t need a man to complete me, Merek did fulfill my needs. Allowing these thoughts to consume me, Merek returned. He quickly closed the door again and stepped toward the bed. He climbed over me, knocking me gently backwards and covering my body. He wasn’t only pinning me; it was as if he was holding me down so I couldn’t leave.
“What’s going on?” I asked, shakily.
“It’s late. They wanted to come home. I’d texted them earlier to say we were stopping by the house to have a drink.”
“My girls….” My voice faded with humiliation.
“They know you’re here.”
“How late is it?”
“Two in the morning.” I struggled to sit up, but the size and strength of Merek kept me still.
“I can’t spend the night,” I shrieked quietly. His head lowered so his forehead rested on mine.
“I know,” he exhaled, softly. His forehead rolled over mine before he pulled back. “But Emme, I don’t want you to leave.” His words lingered between us.
“I hate that you have to go. I hate that we each go to bed at night alone. I don’t like that you have to leave after what we’ve done when all I want to do is hold you the rest of the night.”
“Merek, I…” My hand tenderly wiped down his cheek.
“This is messy,” he interrupted me with a tender peck. “But we can work it out, right?” He pulled back, his eyes roaming over my face. His expression hopeful and frightened.
“We…we can,” I offered softly. His mouth twisted, and then curved o
n one side. That lopsided grin grew until both sides matched and those deep dimples were exposed.
“Yeah?” he questioned.
“Yeah.” I nodded. His mouth came to mine, keeping me hostage for a few more minutes with delicate attention to my lips. Sucking and tracing, it was as if he wanted to memorize my mouth before I had to go.
“Merek,” I eventually giggled. “How am I going to get out of here?” He rested his forehead against mine again. “I sent the kids to their rooms.” He chuckled. His hand wrapped around the nape of my neck.
“I hate this,” he whispered.
“I know.” That intense gaze we had earlier in the night returned. Eyes questioned, trying to read thoughts, and draw out answers, but there wasn’t a need. We’d just have to take things day-by-day, month-by-month. Only this time we were moving forward together, working toward something, not trying to step away from the past.
“Professor Peters?” The knock on the door and the soft address made me spin away from my desk. In the doorway of my office stood Grant Mullens, that seductive smile on his lips, but a sheepish expression on his face. In his hand he held a vase of flowers.
“Professor Peters, I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He held out the flowers. It had been years since a man had given me flowers. It was the small things that mattered, and I always wished that Nate would spontaneously bring flowers to me. Instead he felt they would just die anyway, so what was the point.
“Thank you, Grant. This is so sweet of you,” I said, reaching out for the vase.
“Oh, yeah, well, these aren’t from me. I stopped in the English Office to find out your office hours and the secretary asked me to bring these down to you.”
“Oh. Oh,” I said, feeling awkward as I set the arrangement on the corner of my desk. A beautiful array of yellow sunflowers, purple sprigs, and white daisies brightened my little corner of the university. I smiled in spite of myself, even if they weren’t an apology from Grant.
