Falling Into Infinity

by Layne Harper

  He flashes me the half grin. “I live in a McMansion, as you would call it, in Dallas. You will hate it. My favorite color is still green, but I also have found that I like blue and silver. Big Bertha is a permanent member of the family. I’ve spent a lot of money keeping her running, but I still drive her to the stadium every game day. The offensive line tried to kidnap her and paint her burnt orange and white. I paid their hefty ransom and rescued her. You will be glad to know that she emerged unharmed. And, yes Charlie, I agree. This is the craziest experience of my life.”

  “Thank goodness. I would hate for Bertha to be injured.” I feign horror.

  Then, he says very quietly. “I also still have the maroon Cadillac Escalade that you bought for me minus the license plates.”

  I try to lighten a dark mood that has all of a sudden settled over us. “See! I know how to pick out cars.”

  Apparently I fail at lightening the mood because Colin says, “Charlie, you ripped my heart out of my chest when you left. You made me feel like death was better than the pain that I was feeling. What went wrong? Why did you choose Harvard over me knowing how much I wanted you? I would have…”

  I cut him off. It’s too hard for me to hear about his pain without crawling in his lap and kissing his face. I was also in pain. It’s not like I walked away feeling sunshiny and happy. “You smothered me Colin. You didn’t give me space to breathe. Your success at A&M, the draft, first season playing professional football, money, houses, cars, purses, credit cards, the media nicknaming us CharCol… It was too much for me. I had no control over my own life. I was too busy surfing the wave that was Colin.Fucking.McKinney. You asked me every day to be your wife when I was barely old enough to legally buy alcohol.”

  He leans forward trying to interject, but I stop him. “Please let me finish. This is hard enough for me Colin.” He sits back in his seat so I can continue. “My eating disorder is based on lack of control. It wasn’t about my appearance. I didn’t like how I looked but I liked how I felt. Exercising until I felt in control or vomiting up my food gave me a semblance of order that I needed being caught in your crazy vortex. I didn’t run to Boston to get away from you. If you hadn’t had the job of professional quarterback, you could have gotten a job in Boston, and we could maybe have been one of the few success stories that makes it through medical school. However, you terrified me. Your wanting and needing me so much was more than I could deal with at such a young age. I knew in my heart that if I went to Harvard and tried to have a long distance relationship with you, it would have killed you and your career. Your first year in the NFL showed me that you had to have all or nothing when it came to me.”

  “So, you’re telling me that you broke up with me because I was a professional quarterback?” he says with confusion and disgust on his face.

  “Colin, listen to what I am saying, please. We broke up with each other because I was sick, and you were obsessed with me. You asked me to marry you every single day, for God’s sake. That’s overwhelming.” I’ve raised my voice enough that other tables glance in our direction.

  “You keep saying ‘we broke up.’ I don’t remember it that way. When you decided to choose going to medical school in Boston over Dallas, you did the breaking up. It wasn’t like I was preventing you from going to medical school. Hell! I even agreed to pay the tuition.” His voice has matched my volume except his is so deep that I feel slightly embarrassed when people start staring at us.

  I realize that I am leaning forward in my chair as if to strike. I pick up my glass of wine and drain it and lean back into my chair in a more relaxed manner.

  “Colin, I can’t make you understand. If you can’t accept that you overwhelmed me, and I was sick, then there is nothing more I can say. I can’t change our past. I have nothing to apologize for if that is what you’re angling to hear me say,” I state emphatically.

  He drops into the stance that I hate. He leans forward resting his elbows on his knees and hangs his head down. He doesn’t say a word. I am compelling him in my mind to say something to me.

  In a voice that I can barely hear, he says, “I never meant to overwhelm you. I just wanted to take care of you and share everything that I had with you. I thought I was doing it all for us. I loved you more than I loved myself or football or even Big Bertha,” he says with a slight laugh. “I didn’t know that I was making your life worse for you, or that I was making you run away from me.”

  My eyes fill with tears. I get out of my seat and drop down into a squat in front of him, not caring at all if the other bar patrons see my panties. “You did. You made my life better in every way. I loved you, Colin. However, in the end, I had to love myself more. I couldn’t give you someone who was sick who only wanted a long distance relationship. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  He looks up and me and asks, “Would we have made it back then, if you had married me like I wanted you to?”

  I put my hand on his muscular leg. I can’t resist any longer. I love that I feel his muscle through his pants. “I don’t think so, Colin. I needed professional help that I don’t think I would have gotten. I was already heading toward a bad place before we split up. I was exercising a lot and tying to mask the weight loss with extra calories. I really think that I was only one emotional confrontation away from starting to purge. I needed to step out of the spotlight and get healthy. I did that. I have to admit that after all the paparazzi and media attention faded, it felt good to be anonymous again. I dealt with my parent’s divorce, and we worked on the resentment that I felt toward my dad for abandoning my mom. My therapist and I spent a lot of time on you and me. There will always be a part of me that needs to feel in control, but I can manage it now,” I explain.

  “Charlie, do you want to know what I think?” he asks in a quiet controlled voice.

  “Of course. This seems to be confession time,” I gently laugh.

  “I think that I would have consumed you. I could not have handled four years of a long distance relationship. I think that I would have somehow strong-armed you into getting pregnant so you would drop out of medical school and spend all of your free time with me. You were my life, Charlie,” he says with such sadness that I want to cry. However, the relief I feel that he has finally admitted he consumed me is better than all my years in counseling. He finally gets it.

  He sits up, and I stand up between his strong, long legs. He puts his head against my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck. I pull him to me and hold him ignoring the stares that we are now really getting. His arms wrap around me holding me just as tightly.

  “Please come up to my room,” he asks while buries his face in my chest. “We don’t have to make love. Just let me hold you, Charlie. I want to touch you without being stared at.”

  I kiss his head. “Yes.” I don’t even have to think about it.

  He stands up and grabs my hand. We walk together to find the waitress. “Put her drinks on room 2400. Colin McKinney, please.”

  She yells something after us as he walks out, but he doesn’t stop to acknowledge her.

  When the doors of the elevator close, he turns to me and says, “I can’t believe that less than twelve hours ago, you were still a mythical stranger to me. Now, you are coming back to my room. I always hoped that I would see you again, and now I have. You’re here,” he says with wonder and awe. He starts touching my face as if he is checking to see if I am real.

  I put my hand on his face. “We’re two stubborn, proud people who lost our way. We’re here together now. Let’s don’t think too far ahead. Let’s just enjoy right now.”

  He nods his head in agreement. We step off the elevator still holding hands. I let him lead me to his room. He slips his key in the door and opens it for me. I follow him in to his suite. Of course, Colin would have a suite. It’s a large room with a sofa, love seat, coffee table, dining table, and a kitchenette. The door to the bedroom is closed. He leads me through the living area to the bedroom door. He opens it revealing a lovely large room
. The bed is king sized with a wall of windows looking out toward downtown Los Angeles. There is a chair in the corner. I think about the first time that we made love in my red crushed velvet chair in my apartment in College Station. Turn down service has come. The big fluffy duvet is folded back. I am instantly reminded of his bed in the fortress in Dallas. I push those thoughts out of my head and take my own advice to focus on the here and now.

  He sits me down on the foot of the bed. I wonder what he is doing because he has seemed so unwilling to not touch me that I am a little taken back when he drops my hand and walks towards the closet. I watch him and try to figure out what he’s doing. He starts to undress himself. I sure would like to help, but I don’t dare get up. I decide this is his show. I’m just here to go along for the ride.

  He takes off his jacket first, hanging it up. Next, he moves to his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear. It’s so hot. He’s turned away from me so I can stare unapologetically at his fine behind. His ass is muscular and cut. God, I want to grab it. Then, to my dismay I see him find a pair of running shorts and put them on. He pulls his shirt over his head, and to my delight, he doesn’t put anything else on.

  I drink him in as he walks back toward me. He doesn’t have a six pack. It’s more like an eight pack. He knows what a fantastic body he has. You don’t model underwear by being out of shape. He walks slowly toward me letting me admire him.

  “I don’t know if it’s possible, but you have a better body now than you did when you were twenty-two,” I exclaim.

  He smiles his half-smile at me. “Thank you. The same can be said for you Doctor Collins.”

  He reaches for my hand and pulls me up. He drops to the floor in front of me and gently removes one of my silver high-heeled sandals. I am forced to hold on to his shoulder for support. When one shoe is off, I step down on my flat foot. He picks up my other foot and slips that shoe off. “Would you like to change into one of my shirts?” he asks.

  “Yes. Thank you.” My voice is raspy. There is no camouflaging my attraction to this man or that my lower stomach is filled with heat for him.

  He walks back over to the closet and brings back a white dress shirt. “If you want to change in the bathroom, it’s over there.” He motions to another door without taking his eyes off me.

  “Thank you,” I say, not looking away from him.

  “Do you need help with the zipper?” Our bodies are pulsating with want, lust, physical attraction for each other.

  “Yes, please,” I reply. I watch his green eyes almost roll back in his head while he reaches around to my back and pulls down my zipper. I let my lavender dress fall to the floor in a puddle around my feet. I am standing in front of him in my white lace bra and panties just like so many years ago. He still hasn’t looked down at my body. His lust-filled eyes are staring into mine. He undrapes the man’s white dress shirt from his arm and hands it to me. I slip one of my arms in. He holds the shirt for me so I can easily slide my other arm in. The shirt is huge on me, but I button the buttons without breaking our intense stare.

  He scoops me up and carries me to the king size bed. He lays me gently on one side. He crawls over me and presses his body exactly next to mine. We lay there like that staring at the ceiling feeling the electricity pass back and forth between us.

  In a choked voice, he says, “Do you remember the last time that we made love?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Please tell me about it,” he begs in a whisper.

  “We were in the fortress. We had spent two days in agony. We both knew that in an hour, you had to drive me back to College Station, and we would not see each other again. I was gathering my things from your closet. You were on the phone talking to Mark about issuing a joint statement about our break up and asking the media for privacy. I couldn’t listen any longer so I closed the walk-in closet door. Just as I was putting my last dress into the bag, you came into the closet and attacked me. Our mouths found each other, and we kissed with the desperation that we both felt. Our hands touched every bit of each other knowing that we would not have that contact again. Neither one of us wanted the passion to end. When it became obvious that neither of us could continue much longer, you grabbed a handful of T-shirts and threw them on the floor. You laid me down on top of them. We both came together as soon you entered me. We laid there holding each other until we both knew that it was not going to get any easier. I got up first and went into the bathroom to clean myself up. When I got home that night and unpacked my things, I found one of the T-shirts that we made love on inside my bag. When I pulled it out, it smelled like us. I slept in it for a long time,” I whisper to him.

  “Do you still have it?” He’s choked up.

  “Yes. I’ve never washed it. It’s in my drawer,” I say through unshed tears.

  “I took my shirt and slipped it over my pillowcase. I went to bed every night smelling us until it became too painful. I still have mine too,” he whispers.

  I roll over, put my head on his chest, and drape my arm over his stomach. He puts his hand on my back running his fingers over the material of his shirt. “We are two fucked up, pathetic people,” I conclude.

  He rolls me off him and captures my mouth while he pins me against the bed with his hard body. Oh God! I love his mouth. I love how he tastes. His tongue gently dances with mine. We’ve fallen back to our perfect rhythm. He reaches up and holds my face while we continue to delight in each other’s mouths. I can feel his erection caught in between us. His hardness feels delicious against my stomach. I wrap my arms around his neck and trace the muscle definition in his shoulders. He is perfect. Our tongues begin such a delicious pattern. All of our emotions are in this kiss. It’s passionate, sweet, lustful, and longing all rolled up in one perfect moment.

  He tenderly rolls off me and places us on our sides facing each other, breaking our kiss. His hand hesitantly moves under my shirt. I can tell that he is trying to gauge my reaction to him touching my breasts. There is no doubt in my mind that I want this as much as he seems to. I touch his roaming hand giving him the reassurance that he needs. He moans in appreciation. He breaks our kiss to unbutton my shirt. I let him slowly undo the buttons. He is taking his time, savoring each revelation of my skin. When the last button is undone and my shirt falls open he gasps in appreciation of my almost naked body.

  “I love that you have breasts again. They are so perfect. Don’t do that to your body again,” he says, looking me in the eyes with desperation in his voice. “Promise me.”

  “I promise.” I nod my head.

  He reaches for my bra and gently slips each breast out of the cup essentially creating a bustier. He leans down and kisses each one as if he is getting reacquainted. I am watching him in awe. The appreciation for my body is evident in his face. I am being admired as if I am a piece of fine art. It’s such an aphrodisiac. I crave him touching me again.

  As if he can read my mind, he reaches down and fondles my left nipple. He gasps in pleasure as it responds to his touch. He then repeats the same action on my right nipple. He smiles, obviously pleased that I am still so responsive to him.

  I hold his eye contact as he leans down and takes my right breast in his mouth. I throw my head back and moan in appreciation. His mouth is amazing. He knows just the right amount of pressure to apply to make my body move for him. He then shifts his weight so he can massage my left breast. I place my hands on his back exploring all of his rippling muscles.

  I feel myself growing very damp between my legs. I get lost in the moment of my bucking hips and the torturous assault on my breast. I let out a loud moan as the deep pressure in my lower stomach finds the release that it is craving. He realizes that he is making me orgasm without even touching me below the waist. I feel his perfect erection start throbbing against my stomach.

  He groans in appreciation, and gently brings me down from my orgasm. “That was powerful,” he exhales, smiling at me. “God, you are so fucking perfect, Charlie,” he praises.
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br />   He kisses my mouth again with admiration.

  I tap on his arm indicating that I want him on his back. He gladly obliges my request. I straddle his lap, just like the first time that we made love. The difference is that we are ten years older but still just as infatuated with each other. I lean down and take his mouth. I throw eight years of passion into this kiss. I feel his erection poking my behind. It’s hard to believe that he is still in his shorts, and I have on my bra and panties. All of a sudden, that will not do. I break our kiss and move to help him remove his running shorts. I take a moment to admire his incredibly hard penis. It’s lying against his stomach. It has a slight curve to the left. The throbbing veins are the most virile statement of manhood that I have ever seen. I reach down and grab ahold of his erection. It’s as perfect as I remembered. I gently slide my hand down the shaft stopping every few strokes to catch a drip from its head and rub my finger around the tip.

  He is breathing hard and moaning in pleasure. I keep this up, enjoying watching the degree of pleasure that I can still bring to him. I feel powerful. He reaches down and puts his hand on mine stopping my actions.

  “I’m so close. I want to spend more time loving you before I come,” he reasons with me while moving his hips and licking his lips in pleasure.

  I let him roll me over on my back again. There is nothing that feels more hedonistic than an erection that I’ve longed for pressing against my entrance. His mouth is consuming mine in a frenzied, hungered pace. Then a fleeting thought passes through my head “Colin… Colin…” I’m trying to get his attention, but he isn’t stopping. “Do you have a condom?” I whisper.

  He stops kissing me and says, “No. Do you?”

  “No. I kind of haven’t had sex in a long enough time to need them. I’m not on birth control, either.” I am mortified.