Crushed

by A. M Khalifa

  Ashley and Jake were happily married, but painfully average in every sense of the word. Okay, maybe even above average if I want to be fair. She started her career after college as an onscreen reporter for a local network, and worked her way up until she became the evening news anchor. She was even a bit of a celebrity in her community, she was proud to say.

  Jake on the other hand sold some banal industrial automotive components for some non-descript Irish company. Not sure I quite understood what, or cared, but apparently he was good at it. By any standard, they had done well and probably earned decent money, lived in a big house and could afford whatever they wanted to enjoy.

  But they weren’t working to cure Alzheimer’s or building an improved iteration of the human brain. They were bland, unrecognizable upper middle class fodder—the polar opposites of the gods they once were in high school.

  Melinda and I however had started life as underdogs. Our appearance and confidence came after high school. We never counted on our looks or charm to get us anywhere in life, but when we did acquire them, they were just a late-blooming bonus.

  As the night came to an end, relief and closure radiated through my heart. Finally I was going to let go of my Ashley Sakowski demons.

  What a shame that life is never so straightforward, though, with always a new curve ball coming your way when you least expect or want it.

  As Melinda and I starting saying goodbye to Ashley and Jake—right at that awkward moment when you’re deciding whether to shake hands, half-hug, or go European and plant cheek kisses—Ashley took the lead and embraced me tighter than I expected. At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Jake doing the same with Melinda, to even things out perhaps and make everyone feel less awkward. But I’ll tell you what did feel weird: Ashley surreptitiously planting a little note with her number in my jacket pocket.

  There’s nothing worse than the tiniest bit of doubt contaminating a confident moral position you've taken. There I was basking in my victory over Ashley and everything she stood for back in high school, when she introduces this little chink in the armor. What could she possibly want with me that she couldn’t say in the open and before our spouses? Did she want to acknowledge or speak about our notorious three-week history? Apologize maybe?

  Here’s the bigger problem, though. No matter how successful, how accepted, how loved, how beautiful, how secure I had become, the minute Ashley had shown a renewed interest in me, irrational and incongruous ideas sprung in my mind. My little head was eager to play, my crushed heart was desperate for a second chance, and my bruised ego was after blood.

  I’ll spare you the mundane details of how the brain justifies the unjustifiable, and will jump to the point of the story where I am about to walk in the restaurant to meet Ashley for dinner. As I moved between the tables towards her, I felt the wound in my soul carved out by this woman reopening.

  Ashley wore a lavender strapless dress like a model in a lifestyle magazine selling something divine and exquisite. With every step in her direction, the illusion of control I thought I had was evaporating fast like uncorked vinegar. Sex and love hormones were wreaking drama on my body. My head giddy, my pulse raced, and every pleasure sensor in my brain lit up. This was going to be a disaster.

  Dinner turned out to be a delicious four-hour concerto of riveting emotions in which Ashley played every note masterfully.

  First, she disarmed me by apologizing for being so forward, and explained that what she had to say concerned only the two of us. We had unresolved history, she called it. She saw no need to hurt our spouses.

  All she wanted was to hold my hands and look me in the eye and say sorry for being such a cruel bitch. Her words, not mine.

  Then she gave me the explanation I had once-upon-a-time yearned for. A heart-felt confessional about how she was suffering panic attacks at the time, and the funky meds she was on had forced her to behave oddly. Still, she was accountable for her actions because she did intentionally hurt me, and it was time to come clean after all these years.

  I didn’t mince my words about how I had felt then, but, and I really meant it when I said it, I held no grudges. If anything, I thanked her for emotionally vaccinating me early in life.

  If our conversation had ended then, there was every chance I would have never thought of Ashley Sakowski again. But the rest of the evening took on an even more unexpected turn. She didn’t just open her heart but she laid it on the table.

  Jake was an okay guy who provided for her and their two girls, but the fire between them had long been extinguished. Even if he was cheating on her, she didn't have the courage to poke around. For many years she’d been feeling invisible, and conflicted by her desire to stay for the girls or leave to satisfy her unfulfilled need to be loved and desired.

  Who would have thought I would find myself giving life advice to the woman I once held responsible for all my miseries? I cannot kick someone when they’re down on their knees begging. Regardless of how much they had hurt me.

  “You need to find a job or career you are really passionate about. It seems to me you just ended up in television right out of college because it was easy,” I counseled her.

  “You hit the nail on the head. My real passion is behind the screen. I never want to be a pretty face again. My dream is to write and produce shows. I know I can’t change the world the way you and Melinda plan to, but I don’t want to be stuck in prime time purgatory for the rest of my existence.”

  What if girls like Ashley who were total dickheads in high school are just regular people underneath it all, dealing with their own insecurities, dreams and fears? She ends up as a television anchor because everyone expected her to monetize her good looks. Yet there she was bearing her heart and telling me she wanted to be loved for greatness other than that of her cleavage.

  The more we spoke, the more I enjoyed it, and the more I enjoyed it the sooner I realized Ashley was nothing like the monster I had made her out to be in mind. Whatever she had done to me in high school, funky meds or not, we were seventeen for the love of God. Who knew anything back then?

  Then it struck me. I didn’t have to sleep with Ashely, fall in love with her again, or hurt her to settle the score and expunge her from my system. I could just as well extend her some compassion and let her go.

  I wish she had stopped there when we were both still ahead.

  For the next three weeks Ashley pursued me with frightening determination.

  Life was too short to waste on a relationship less than explosive, she said of her own marriage, and by allusion mine.

  We owed it to ourselves to be with the people who made us the happiest and who excited us the most. If only she had been smart enough to recognize my worth back in high school, she would have saved herself ten years of blandness with Jake, she confessed. I was the one she really wanted to be with, and given the opportunity, she would show me that I too would want to spend the rest of my life with her.

  “How?” I said.

  “Sex, of course,” she said casually. The ultimate litmus test.

  By tasting her, I would realize beyond any doubt why we could never be apart, she rationalized. The more I tried to talk her out of it, the harder she came on. Just the one night together was all she was asking for. If I didn’t enjoy it, well at least I would achieve closure knowing I finally had her, after all those years. Win-win, she described it.

  Any time a story reaches the point of a no-strings-attached sexual proposal from a woman to a man, what happens after that will never please everyone. But I want you to know that when I walked into the Palace Hotel in San Francisco to book a room for Ashley and I, the thought process that had led me there was not entirely based on unfettered animal instincts. You’re probably judging me in a negative light because the honorable thing to have done would have been to squarely turn her offer down and get on with the rest of my life. And I don’t blame you for thinking that. But stick with me, things are about to get a lot more interesting.

  Ashl
ey strutted across the lobby of the hotel and time shifted to slow motion. Show-stopping is the best way I could describe the vision of her body floating towards me. Her caramel hair was tied in a pony tail that danced around, catching the afternoon rays of the sun. She wore the shortest black tunic dress with no sleeves like it was her skin. The last time I had seen her legs was during track and field day in high school. They had now become the legs of a woman, having been spread open to allow life in and then back out. Long, tanned and sculpted with enough tone to excite any man with blood flowing through their veins.

  I was nursing a Highball sitting cross-legged on a leather chair when she stopped in front of me, her knees pushing into mine. She extended one hand to take mine so we could go up, and with the other one she pressed a finger to her lips to indicate the time for words had now officially ended. Only action would ensue for the rest of the night.

  I am not the sort of guy to kiss and tell, but there are some details of what happened between us that night which I feel you need to know.

  The universe operates with a patent hatred for vacuums. Voids have to be filled. Any time a man comes across a woman whose sexual needs aren't being met, regardless of how he feels about her, he will be compelled to equalize that deficiency. Men smell sexual hunger on women like hound dogs smell blood. Ashley’s unsatisfied need to be loved, caressed, kissed and taken in every possible way was burning electricity through the air, even before we stepped in the room.

  I say these things not to brag about how my one-night tryst with Ashley could very well be the zenith of her needs, the gold standard upon which she will forever hold her husband to—or whichever man she ends up leaving him for. For three hours we rocked the universe. Every possible position, and with the stamina and erotica madness of two much younger kids. I harp about it because I want you to know when I stripped naked and screwed the breath out of this women, I had no intention of hurting her, or anyone else. I was simply following her cues and doing what nature was requiring of me, to fill her void.

  The fact I did end up hurting Ashley had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the sort of person she really was. The real Ashley, not the character she was playing to ensnare me.

  We lay on our backs floating in the afterglow of magnificent sex.

  “You…” she whispered, snuggling her face in mine and twiddling my nipples with her fingers in a manner that was arousing me again.

  I giggled, eyes still closed.

  “You’re incredible…”

  “Nah, I’m nothing special. The only thing going for me is my great taste in women, even back when I was seventeen.”

  “You’re sweet to say that, you know."

  "It's the truth. You're amazing, Ashley. Everything I dreamed you would be. I am glad I listened to you."

  She turned around and got on top of me, her thighs straddling my body as she dipped her face to kiss me.

  "How about we do this every day of our lives, mister?”

  My heart spiked, my chest heaved louder, but other than that, not a peep. Not a single word from my lips.

  “Right? Wouldn't life be special if this is how sex was done every day?”

  I turned my head away, then turned her around so we were again lying side by side

  “Of course.”

  “Be mine. All I want is nights like this every now and then. You can keep your life, and I keep mine.”

  “Jake doesn’t’ know how to satisfy you?”

  I could see blood coloring her complexion.

  “Why ruin this perfect mood?”

  “Am I?"

  "Jake is the last person I want to think or talk about it tonight." Her hand reached out to hold me down there. She kissed me slowly, the sound and taste of her lips filling me up again. I resisted, and moved my face away.

  "Ashley, we need to talk."

  "About what?" she whispered.

  "This was an amazing night.”

  "I don’t think I have ever screamed this loud…"

  “Yes, this is how sex should be experienced—but with the people you love.”

  “You hated sleeping with me, didn't you?”

  “I’m not saying that all. I loved every bit of it, and it was extra special because it was you. The part of me that once loved you will keep thanking me forever.”

  “I thought the deal was if you enjoyed it you would consider being with me? No one has to know. Our secret.”

  “A deal is something agreed upon by all parties? This was your proposition, and I tried to talk you out of it, even though I now don’t regret it. We're both adults here. This was amazing, but it ends tonight. There will be no ‘us.’”

  “Yeah right,” she said as she sat up in bed and moved away from me.

  “You’re sexy, you’re sensual, and you can get any man you want. We both know it.”

  “Bullshit. I was just an easy lay. Either that or you're still bitter about what I did to you.”

  “You can believe what you want, but it’s not true.”

  “You’re like any other scumbag. A cheater and a liar thinking only of where to stick your dick in next. I don’t believe any of your stupid lies about your perfect marriage to that idiot, either.”

  The show was quickly coming to an end. I got out of bed and started getting dressed.

  “Let’s keep this civil, Ashley. This was always about you and me. No need to say nasty things about other people.”

  “Go to hell. We are cheating on our fucking spouses! How’s that supposed to be civil?"

  "Cheating? That's a bit melodramatic."

  "You want to know why I really slept with you, Larry?”

  I nodded.

  “Pity. I don’t care how you look now, in my mind you will forever be that loser who slaved to do my assignments and didn’t even get a pat on the back.”

  “You enjoyed sleeping sex with me, you just said so yourself.”

  I stared at her, eyes widening, unable to believe how low intent she was to sink even lower.

  “You’re not getting off that easily. I’m telling your wife everything.”

  “You wouldn't.”

  “I would. I can and I will. Unless—”

  “What?”

  “You think of a suitable compensation to keep me quiet.”

  “You’re blackmailing me?” An involuntary laugh came out of me.

  “Call it whatever you want, but you’re not sleeping with me and walking away without paying for it.”

  “I’ll play along. Let’s say I do pay to shut you up but you still go ahead and out me?”

  “We’ll do it like they all do in this town and draw up a non-disclosure agreement. I know lawyers who specialize in sexual favors.”

  “There is such a discipline?”

  She ignored me.

  “What if I say I don’t think you could sink that low? What if I tell you Melinda will never believe you?”

  “Listen, jerk—"

  "Ouch."

  "You've got until Friday to come up with a proposal. Five figures at the very least. And just so you know. I’ve got photos of every time we met, including us walking up to this very hotel room."

  "You hired a photographer to trail us?"

  "Even without photos, Melinda will believe me. We're both women. I’ll say exactly what I need to say to rip her heart out.”

  I placed my hands on my head and turned to gawk at the ceiling.

  “Ashley, Ashley, Ashley… You never cease to amaze me. I have to say, I didn't see this one coming.”

  She had crawled out of bed and was picking up her clothes from the floor.

  “You think because you’ve moved up in life and learned a few tricks, you are any different? Once a loser, always a loser. I wanted to give you an opportunity to be with someone in a league way higher than yours, but you're just too stupid to see what you're missing. A cash payment works out just as good. It means I never have to sleep with you again.”

  “Now that’s hurtful.”
/>   “That’s called a bitter lesson in life.”

  “Somehow, I only ever get those on your hands.”

  “Whatever.”

  I pulled out my phone and handed it to her.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  “I’ve made up my mind. Ain’t payin’. Do whatever you want. I don't care.”

  “You'll regret this. It’s not just your wife who'll find out you are a cheating bastard, but the whole world.”

  “You’ll get burned just as bad.”

  “I work in television. I’ll ruin your name with hearsay.”

  I sighed and bit my lips.

  “You have everything to lose. I swear to God I will unleash a shit storm on you, Larry.”

  “Nah. In fact, why not call Melinda and tell her right now and get it out of the way?”

  “You're bluffing."

  "Try me."

  "I'll do it."

  "That's what I want you to do."

  "There’s no turning back.”

  “You keep saying that.”

  “You still have a chance to get out squeaky clean.”

  “I’m good thanks. Go ahead and call her. I have the number pulled up. Just press on the call button.”

  “You’re lying. This is somebody else’s number. Very clever.” Her voice started to quiver.

  “Put her on speaker phone, and let’s have that conversation all three of us like grownups.”

  Ashley’s face lost any hint of color as she held my phone in her hand. Either she thought I was absolutely bonkers, or was in possession of the biggest balls known to man.

  I had her cornered.

  I could hear her breathing louder, and for a split second I really thought she would back down.

  Then the rage or arrogance flashed in her eyes and she pressed the dial button, declaring all out war. She just couldn’t resist.

  “Hey baby. How was dinner?” Melinda answered her voice bright and perky on the speaker phone.

  “Dinner was great," I said. "Then I met Ashley Sakowski. Remember her from our class reunion?”