I eventually fell asleep, but not before another fit of crying came over me.
What the hell were you thinking, Melanie Nakamura?
* * *
The next month passed. I was a mess the whole time. My savings were gone. The only thing I owned outright was my car. I had a mountain of debt to pay off. I got sick; supposedly it was a winter cold, but I know it was partly due to the stress. And despite my best efforts, there were no new job offers.
But that wasn't the worst part.
Each night, I sat in my room, Kevin's number on the screen of my cell phone. All I had to do was hit "send". Only I never did.
What would I say? How could I approach him without seeming like I was only after him because of his money? How could I be sure I was attracted to him because of who he was, not for the things he had or what he could do for me? How could I be sure he wouldn't break my heart again?
Valentine's Day came and went. I half-expected to receive a card or gift, but none came. I didn't blame Kevin; I had been ignoring him for a month. What right did I have to expect anything from him?
I made a vow that I would only call when I had a job. But oh, how I wanted to hear the sound of his voice! And feel him pulling me close to him.
Mother tried to get me to talk a couple of times. She inquired about my trip to San Francisco, each time taking a different angle to get me to crack. But I resisted. Until she blindsided me.
"So who did you have sex with when you came back from California?" she asked me one day. Emily was at school. We had just put Toby down for his nap.
"Mother!" I exclaimed, unable to believe the she came right out and said it.
"Tell me, Melanie," she said in a very gentle, non-judgmental way. "It's okay; you're a woman and you have needs. Who was he?"
I blushed as dark as a Japanese girl can. "An old friend from high school."
Her eyebrow went up.
"We ran into each other at the airport," I admitted, secretly happy to finally be able to talk about my romantic encounter from a month ago. "Do you remember Kevin Westcott?"
"Kevin?" Mother couldn't conceal her surprise, but she still smiled warmly. "He was always a very nice boy."
"He still is, Mother," I said, trying not to sound nervous. "He paid for our hotel room while we were there."
"What is he doing now?"
I almost told her that he was a successful computer programmer and businessman, but I didn't, instead adopting his lie. "Kevin teaches history at a community college in Virginia."
Mother covered the disappointment well; I think she was hoping that I'd meet a guy who was financially well-off. She had wanted that with my ex-husband, and the fact that I had always made more than him was disconcerting to my parents. Both my mother and father were tenured university professors; she in chemistry and he in Japanese literature. They had familiar academic prejudices against community colleges as intellectually inferior.
She didn't say anything for a few moments. "Is he going to call on you again?"
"He has called a couple of times," I admitted. That much was true. I didn't answer the call, afraid of what I would do or say. I knew there was a chance Kevin would hate me for this, but I felt I had to weather this part of the storm myself.
"Why don't you call him?"
"Mother!"
"Why not, Melanie?" she asked with that sort of dismissive, but matronly, tone. "You're a modern woman. It's okay for you to call boys now."
I rolled my eyes. I really wanted to call Kevin back. But I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Not yet.
She didn't say anything else about Kevin and I was happy to let the subject drop. I spent the next two weeks chasing down more job offers and networking my heart out. My parents were happy to have me and the kids around. They played the role of doting grandparents to a T and weren't hesitant to give me some money to follow some employment leads.
When I was finally ready to give up and take the first thing that came down the pipe, even as a greeter at Wal-Mart, someone answered a resume I had posted online. I flew out to Seattle, made my pitch and hoped for the best. While I was waiting in the hotel room that night, I got a call. It wouldn't pay as much as I'd have liked, but at this point in my life, I was a beggar and I couldn't be a chooser.
My new job was out of the financial field, but that was okay. After all, an MBA and a career in banking hadn't done me any good over the last year. I was flying home when purely on impulse, I changed my travel plans.
"Hello, Kevin?" I said when his phone rang. "It's me . . . Melanie Koiz—er, . . . um, Nakamura."
"Melanie?" he sounded incredulous, as if he wasn't quite sure whether he was hallucinating or not.
"Yes . . . Listen, I'm sorry I haven't called you back earlier," I hoped he wouldn't be too pissed off at me. "I'd like to make it up to you."
"Um. . . sure," he stammered.
"Can I take you out to dinner?" I asked.
"I . . . uh, when would be good for you?" he sounded puzzled. "Hold on, someone just rang the doorbell."
It was all I could do not to jump into his arms when he opened the door. We both stood there staring at each other. Time seemed to stand still.
"Hi," I said meekly.
"Hi," was all he could reply.
"Kevin, you can hang up the phone now," I giggled. If I'd had a feather, I could have knocked him over. "Can I come in?"
He didn't immediately reply. I didn't know what I would do if he said, "No"; the cab that dropped me off was long since gone. His jaw hung open, unable to form any words. Taking the initiative, I stepped over the threshold and put my arms around him. He automatically embraced me and pulled me close.
It was all I could do not to break down and cry. In that instant, I had never felt as safe and as comfortable as I did in Kevin Westcott's arms.
"Kev, I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't be," he replied. I tried to say something more, but he silenced me with a kiss. It was one of those wet, sloppy, delicious kisses that could go on for days. It wasn't hungry or desperate. Instead, it was filled with passion and—dare I say it?—love.
His arms wrapped around me and pulled me into one of his gentle bear hugs. I felt myself lifting up on my toes to reach him.
We stood there in the foyer with the front door wide open for the world to see and held each other. After several minutes, he pulled back and set me down. I smiled sheepishly as he retrieved my suitcase from his front porch, then closed the door behind him.
He seemed to be searching for something to say.
"I wanted to call you back," I answered his unasked question apologetically. "But I couldn't. Not until I had straightened a few things out."
Kevin smiled weakly. "It's okay."
"No, it's not," I replied firmly. I had to say this, if only for myself. "For the last six weeks, I've treated you like shit and you don't deserve that. But, Kevin, you have to understand this: I'm still not in a good place. Things are a little better, but I can't rush in to anything. Not right now."
"I understand," he said softly; I'm sure he meant well, but the look in his eyes told me that he didn't.
"Why don't we get something to eat?" I suggested. "My treat. We'll catch up over dinner."
He put on his best smile, but not before his self-control almost slipped.
There was a flash of hunger in his eyes. It made my heart pound. The look he gave me sent chills up and down my spine. It was as if a part of him wanted to tear my clothes off, throw me over his shoulder, take me to his bedroom and ravage my body.
I don't think I would have stopped him.
Instead, he asked politely, "Do you need to get cleaned up?"
"No, thanks," I said and he led me through his very nice house and out to the garage. His house wasn't one of those new McMansions, but it was nice enough. He lived in an older, upscale neighbourhood. His house was probably build around the Civil War and had seen its share of upgrades and additions. I could tell he was a gadget guy and there w
ere all sorts of electronics and other things lying around. I had to stifle a giggle; in some ways Kevin hadn't changed much since high school. Only the price of his toys had.
There were two cars in his garage. One was a Honda Accord sedan and the other was a restored Shelby Cobra 427 in candy apple red with a white racing stripe that ran down the driver's centerline. I later found out that he was also restoring a Jeep CJ7 in a shed in his back yard. We got in the Honda.
"Where would you like to go?" he asked.
"Someplace nice," I couldn't take his hand (stick shift) so I settled for wrapping myself around his arm. "Remember, I'm buying."
Kevin blushed and drove us to a little mom-and-pop seafood restaurant. They knew him by name and seated us in a romantic booth in the back. I don't remember exactly what we ordered, but the food was good and the company even better.
"So what brings you to town?" he asked, not beating around the bush.
"I got a job," I replied excitedly. "I went out to an interview and they made an offer yesterday."
"What are you going to be doing?" Kevin sounded nervous.
"Working as a translator for an electronics company that does a lot of business in Japan. They needed someone who speaks fluent Japanese and English," I frowned. "There's a lot travel involved, which is one downside, but the pay is good and I don't have a lot of options at this point."
"What company?"
"Neurodyne," I pulled out the business card of one of the managers who hired me.
"Very nice." Even though Kevin smiled, I could see the disappointment in his eyes. "They do good work. And even in this economy, they're profitable, too."
"I had hoped . . . I didn't want a job out on the west coast or one that was going to send me to Asia a lot, but not much else was panning out."
"Mel . . . if you need a job, ask me," Kevin looked hurt.
"What would you have me do?"
"My foundation can always use some help."
"Doing what, Kevin? I don't know anything about non-profit work," I said. He started to say something, but I held up my hand to stop him. "Kevin, I know what you're thinking. And I appreciate the gesture, but I can't work for you. Not now. This is something I have to do on my own."
"Why?" he whispered.
I took a deep breath. "Because I need to know that I can make it without someone else. Right now . . . My ex-husband and I weren't very smart with our money. We bought too many things and lived way beyond our means. I'm smarter than that; I know I am. You don't know how humiliating it is to have to tell your kids that everything they had grown up expecting has gone away. We spoiled them rotten, you know. Now . . . now I just wish I had been smarter."
Kevin gave me a hurt smile, but I knew he understood.
"We were too dependent on both our salaries," I continued. "Only I never fully realised where our money was going. We spent our money on things we didn't need and didn't save up enough for a rainy day. I just accepted that we'd have six-figure incomes for ever and ever. When he filed for divorce, neither of us considered how much it would cost us and how hard it would be to divvy up our assets when the value of our house was a fraction of what it was two years ago."
A silence fell over us until our entrees arrived. We made some more small talk; both of us wanted to avoid any serious discussion of us.
We were too full for dessert. He asked what I wanted to do; I deferred to him. He drove around for a little while but soon we ended up back in his living room.
There was a part of me that wanted to jump him right there. But he seemed cautious. I can't blame him; it's not like there were any expectations. In fact, based on the way I had treated him lately, he was probably rightfully wary of me.
"So where does that leave 'us'?" he asked finally.
I settled on to the couch next to him. Our hips were touching. Our arms intertwined.
Over the last month and a half, I had been pondering this very question. I didn't have a good answer for myself, much less for him. Still, I knew I had to come up with something. Anything less was unfair to him.
"I've missed you, Kevin," I admitted. "I've missed you every night since we were last together. And I missed . . . I didn't know how much I missed the little things you do for me. Like holding doors open and little pecks on the cheek. Kenzo—my ex—never did anything like that. And when we were together . . . you treated me so well . . . I realised that I want that."
"Then let me do those things for you," there was a pleading look in his eyes.
"There's a part of me that wants you to," I said.
"But . . ." I could see him wince.
"But I don't know that I really wanted you or if I just like the idea of falling in love. Does that make sense?"
He nodded reluctantly.
"I'm sorry, Kevin," I said, half-expecting him to throw me out right there.
"So why did you come by tonight?" he asked after a long while.
"I don't know," I shrugged. "I wanted someone to share my good news with . . . And I wanted that someone to be you."
"How'd you find me?"
"Well, Kev . . . there's this thing . . . it's call the internet . . . maybe you've heard of it . . ."
We both laughed. Kevin put his arm around me and pulled me close. He kissed me on the forehead. We sat there on the couch for a long time, neither of us speaking. After a while, we changed into night clothes then curled up under a blanket to watch TV.
I appreciated that he wasn't all over me, although a part of me would have been okay with that, too. Instead, we cuddled. His arms felt so good around me. I loved listening to his heartbeat.
Eventually, I fell asleep in his arms, drooling on his shoulder. At some point, he carried me to his bedroom. Through the haze, I felt him lay me down on his bed then spoon up behind me. His strong arms enveloped me, but he never groped my body.
He brushed the hair out of my face, then kissed me on the cheek.
It may have been my imagination, but thought I heard him whispering to me.
"Melanie, what do I have to do to make you fall in love with me?"
* * *
When I woke up the next morning, both of us were still fully clothed. Soft light shone through the curtains. I lay curled up with my arms wrapped around a pillow.
I blinked the sleep away and saw Kevin laying next to me. He was facing me, his eyes open. There was a longing in his gaze.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he said softly. I returned his dreamy smile.
He reached out and caressed my cheek. As his hand ran over my skin with a delicate, feather-light touch, I turned and drew his index finger into my mouth. I smiled to myself as I saw Kevin close his eyes and bite his lip to keep from crying out.
Leaving a trail of soft kisses along his hand, I pulled him closer to me, until our lips were bare inches apart.
"I missed waking up with you," I whispered. That much was true. I've always been a snuggler. I love the feeling of another person's warm body against me. In college, the best was my gay boyfriend who used to call me a "heat-seeking missile" because I almost always ended up on top of him in the middle of the night. My ex-husband wasn't much for tenderness, but my kids love to cuddle just like me.
"And I missed falling asleep with you," he said evenly.
I missed making love with you, I thought, but the words wouldn't come out of my mouth.
As we lay there, I wondered how long he had been watching me sleep. His blue eyes were hypnotic. I could have very easily lost myself in them.
Finally, I turned and looked over at the clock. It was after ten. I never sleep in that late!
"What time do you have to go?" he asked softly. I could hear the dread in his voice.
"Not until tomorrow," I turned back and saw him at a loss for words. "I told my parents they wanted me to come back for a second interview today."
"So they don't know?"
"Nope," I snickered. "Today will be just you and me. . . . Unless you already have plans."
"
I, um, nothing that I can't get out of," he stammered.
"Well, I can think of one thing you can get in to," I purred seductively.
"And what would that be?"
"Me."
With that, I pulled him to me. Whatever else he had to say was pushed to the back of his mind. I rolled over on my back and he rolled with me.
The hunger was back in his touch. My hands tugged at his clothes until his t-shirt and boxer shorts were thrown across the room. Similarly, my nightshirt and panties disappeared.
"No, Kevin," I whimpered as he went to kiss his way down my body. "I want you inside me."
I spread my legs as my old high school friend entered me slowly. I closed my eyes and moaned. My pussy was already slick with anticipation.
He bottomed out and leaned in to kiss me. Only then did I look him in the eyes.
"I've missed this," I said softly. "Make love to me, Kevin."
Our lips met again and he slowly began to pump his cock in and out of my pussy.
We made love long and slow that morning. His hands roamed over my body. Squeezing my breasts. Caressing my ass. Pinching my nipples.
But the best part was when he cupped my face and kissed me. He didn't force his tongue down my throat or knock his teeth against mine.
His lips were so soft and warm. He gave me a series of soft pecks, followed by a deep, juicy, soul-cleansing kiss that made my spine tingle.
All the while, his cock worked against the nub of my clit.
My hands went to his ass and pulled him as deep inside me as he would go. I could feel his balls pressing against me.
When we could take it no more, we both came. I could feel his warmth filling my womb. His eyes fluttered and he collapsed on top of me, even as the room started to spin.
With every ounce of my being, I tried to hold on to that feeling. You know the one: There's one person in the world you want with you all the time. All you feel is bliss. Life can't get any better. And you're as close to that special someone as you can possibly be.
Erotic Stories Page 17
