by Logan Belle
It hurts. I can’t say that it doesn’t. But by the time the sun came up, I had accepted the fact I have to enjoy it for what it was. I tell myself I got back into the game for sex, not love. The past few weeks have shown me sex is everywhere, if you’re open to it. I was open to it, and got it.
Of course, after last night, I realize I don’t want sex. I want that feeling of being in the arms of a man who makes me laugh. Who knows my secrets. Who is happy to stay in on a Thursday night because I don’t want to leave my cat.
A man who turns me inside out with a kiss.
I want Justin, but Justin has his limitations. I asked, and he finally told me — explicitly. My mother once told me that when a man tells you his shortcomings, take him at his word.
Everything has its limitations. My job. My health — my body.
And that’s the one I need to focus on right now.
“Oh, good! You’re here,” Patti says, taking off her coat and walking briskly to my counter. “Why didn’t you answer any of my texts last night? I had half a mind to drive over to your house but Geoff told me you probably just needed some time to yourself. I figured he might be right. But I wish I could have done something for you.”
“Yeah,” I smile. “He was right about last night. But there’s something you could do for me today, if you have time.”
She looks at me, nodding yes before she hears what I need. A true friend.
“I’m going to see my doctor during lunch if you can go with me. I’ve decided to schedule my surgery sooner after all.”
“I think that’s a very good idea,” she says, holding me tight.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” And I am. There’s nothing to wait for. Nothing left I have to do. Justin might not be able to be the type of man who calls me the morning after, but he’s the type of man who helped me moved forward with my life. And for now, that’s enough.
It feels so good to ask Patti to come to the appointment with me. Her friendship is such a safe harbor in this moment, I want to tell her everything: Justin. The List. The debacle at the strip club.
The mind-blowing sex I had last night.
I want to confide in her, but I can’t. She won’t understand. There isn’t anyone I can tell.
Or is there?
*** ***
“He is both the stranger of my deepest fantasies, and my best friend. He taught me how to be sexual again — not by his touch, but by his sense of humor and adventure. That is why, now that he is finally touching me, I am already wet for him.” I pause, catching my breath. The room is absolutely silent. I don’t dare look too closely at any of the faces — better to keep it a blur. It’s easy to do; while I am in a spotlight, the rest of the room is dim. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to see the group, but it offers the illusion they can’t see me.
I do see Suzanne in the front row, and she nods encouragingly. I look down at the piece of paper I’m clutching in my sweaty hand.
“I give myself over to the sureness of his fingers pressing inside me, the possessiveness of his mouth on my breasts. And when he finally enters me with his cock, I can barely breathe from excitement.
“It’s been years and years since I’ve had a man inside of me. I’d nearly forgotten this exquisite fullness, this consuming heat. His strokes are slow and steady at first, and I pull him closer, deeper, until my body erupts with sensation beyond anything I have ever imagined. And his body, moving hard against me, inside of me, begins to shudder. And his loud moan tells me we are one in this moment of ecstasy.”
I pause, swallowing hard. “And then, it’s over. Not just the sex, but everything between us. The expression ‘one night stand’ has new meaning. It’s literal. The one night of passion stands between me and the man who was first my friend, then, for a brief moment, my lover. But I’m learning to let him go. I might not have him anymore, but I have something he left me with. The thing I’d lost touch with, the one thing I needed most. He gave me back my body.”
I fold the paper in my hand, and step away from the microphone. The room erupts in applause. It’s so thunderous, it shocks me. Is it always this loud? It certainly doesn’t seem so when I’m one of the people doing the clapping.
I wade back into the audience, filled with exhilaration and relief.
“Awesome,” Dylan says to me as I pass by her, heading towards my seat in the second to last row.
“Thanks,” I say, humbled by the support of the room.
And then I notice a swath of light shining at the back of the room. The door is open.
Justin is standing there, and the sight of him stops me cold.
How long has he been there? Did he hear me reading? There’s too much distance between us for me to get a clue from the expression on his face. I would have to go to him. Ask him.
But I don’t. Instead, I step over a few handbags and outstretched legs on my way to my chair. I sit down, my back to the door.
The door closes. The room is dark again. Did he come into the room, or leave? As difficult as it to resist, I don’t turn to look. And yet, my heart is pounding. My knee is bouncing up and down, the way it does when I’m nervous or antsy. And I’m suddenly overheated in my black knit dress. Every muscle in my body twitches with the urge to find him. But I hold myself back. Why is he here? For me?
It doesn’t matter. At least, not right this minute. Tonight, I’m here to share my story. I’m here to be heard. I’m here to feel alive, and beautiful, and sexy, and complete.
And I do.
The next reader takes the stage.
###
Don’t miss the continued story of Claire and Justin in Now and Forever (A Last Chance Romance, Part 2) coming January 2014
Acknowledgements
I’ve never been more grateful for support than I have been on this project. First, a tremendous thank you to my brilliant cover designer, Annabel White. Working with you was a dream come true. Thank you to my editor, Tina Winograd. Thank you to my former cosmetics department colleague, Mary Knauss-Lentz, who patiently answered all of my questions. Thank you to Dr. Marc Brown at Columbia Radiology, and to my surgeon, Dr. Sharon Rosenbaum-Smith. Finally, thank you to my fiancé and creative partner Adam Chromy, who was by my side for every single doctor appointment, who encouraged me to write this book, and most of all, who never for one minute let me feel anything less than beautiful.
A very special thank you to Dr. Susana Mayer, founder and host of The Erotic Literary Salon (www.TheEroticSalon.com) in Philadelphia. I will never forget the creativity and generosity of the group, especially the work of Dr. Frances Seidman, whose reading showed me that romance and passion are things we can enjoy at any age. Frances, meeting you left me forever inspired and hopeful.
The following are a just a few of my favorite breast cancers resources, and also a few great links for healthy post-treatment eating and beauty products.
The Silver Pen
www.thesilverpen.com
Breastcancer.org
www.breastcancer.org
Violets are Blue
www.violetsarebluenyc.com
The WholeFood Guide for Breast Cancer Survivors
www.wholefoodguideforbreastcancer.com
Superfood Cuisine with Julie Morris
www.facebook.com/superfoodcuisine
Zoya (five-free nail polish)
www.zoya.com
Other books by the author:
Miss Chatterley by Logan Belle
Bettie Page Presents The Librarian by Logan Belle
Blue Angel by Logan Belle
Fallen Angel by Logan Belle
Naked Angel by Logan Belle
The Gin Lovers by Jamie Brenner
www.LoganBelle.com
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