Once in a Lifetime

by Harper Bliss

  Almost imperceptibly, I nod, and I feel everything falling away. The years we haven’t seen each other, the pain we caused each other that has colored our memories, and, perhaps in both of our cases, altered our view on life as well. Because isn’t our life made up of the people that we love? The people that have the power to fundamentally change something about us? Apart from my children, no one has ever had as profound an effect on me as Leigh Sterling. She knows it too. I see it in the way her facial expression is changing. Eyes that seem to look straight into my soul. That knowing, lopsided smile. Even in the way she tilts her head, exposing the length of her neck, as ever, a question in the slant of it: are you ready?

  In a flash, her hands are on the back of my neck, pulling me in. The kiss that follows is much more invasive. There’s nothing exploratory or cautious about it. It’s a declaration of intent. The way Leigh claims me with her tongue now is how she’ll claim me with her fingers later.

  When we break from the kiss, I already feel out of breath and my knees are giving way. Not even the best sex I had with Suzy comes close to this thirty-second kiss from my ex. Apples and oranges. There’s no use comparing the two.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You’d better undress and bend over,” I tell Jodie. She obeys instantly, just as she used to.

  I keep my glance on her while she unbuttons her blouse and lets it drop to the carpet. Eleven years ago, Jodie would never have just discarded a piece of clothing like that.

  When only her underwear remains, she pauses. I arch up my eyebrows, just as a matter of encouragement. The years have changed her body—how could they not? I hope she can tell that I think she’s as beautiful as ever from the way I’m looking at her.

  She unclasps her bra, hesitates for a moment before dropping it, then quickly takes off her panties as well.

  “You know the pose.” I move out of her way, wondering if she still does.

  She bends over and presents her ass to me.

  I’m momentarily floored by how easy she’s making it on me, and by how she still seems to trust me after all these years. Maybe, when you love the way we did, it never really goes away. Maybe something lingers, the way people can survive with a piece of shrapnel in their body after an accident. It hurts. And it’s an almost constant reminder. But survive they do.

  I look at Jodie’s behind in silence a few seconds longer. I know what that does to her. I also know what it does to me.

  I quickly remove my blouse and then trace a finger up the curve of her ass. I feel her flinch underneath my touch. I can’t lift my finger from her skin. I run it up and down her cheeks, reacquainting my fingertip with this body that has given me so much pleasure.

  When I’m finally able to drag my finger away from her flesh I suck it into my mouth, as though it’s the quickest way to savor her. I also know where my finger is going next, and some moistness wouldn’t go amiss.

  The fragility I displayed earlier leaves me, and I bring my finger to her behind again. Let her feel it’s good and wet so she can draw her own conclusions about where this is going. And I fully realize this is going very fast, but there’s no other way for Jodie and me to do this. Falling into bed smiling, caressing each other until the next morning, that was never how we did things—except perhaps for the first few times we made love, when I hadn’t fully gauged her yet.

  My finger inches closer to her crack. Oh, to be able to see her face right now. That face I’ve missed so much, that I’ve conjured up from memory many a night over the past eleven years. Those green eyes. Those long lips with their color of bruised plums—still her favorite lipstick. I was always sure a deeper meaning lay behind it, but if it did, she never admitted to it.

  Has anyone else done this to her? Has Suzy ventured here? I can’t help but wonder these things, but, as far as I know, she’s not stayed with anyone longer than with me.

  I only apply gentle pressure, just so she knows what to expect. And this image in front of me, Jodie offering herself to me like this, it’s so us it brings a tear to my eye.

  “Get up,” I say, making sure no sentimentality shows in my voice.

  Jodie pushes herself up and a smile flits along her lips when she sees I’ve taken off my blouse. Her eyes stop at my abs. I have a fully fitted gym in my house. It’s not as if I needed the room for my offspring, I want to say, but it would be a joke in extremely bad taste.

  “Face the window,” I instruct.

  While she does, I unbuckle my belt.

  “Hands on the glass, ass out.” Jodie was always coy about doing it in front of the window, but when I let a finger drift along her pussy lips I could always tell how much it aroused her.

  She’s gasping for air already and it’s as if I can tell by the tautness of her muscles and the eagerness of her breath that no one has demanded this of her in years.

  Our eyes meet in the reflection of the window.

  “Let’s give them a show,” I say, and move behind her. With a fingertip, I mark the spot where I will slap her. I easily remember where it always used to hurt her the most.

  I let the leather of my belt crash down on the spot I traced. Jodie’s body jerks.

  “Fuck,” she hisses, and her hands slide down the window a few inches.

  I know what she needs to get over the bite of the first slap. Another. The sound of the leather cracking on her skin injects jolt after jolt of fireworks into my blood. It’s not as if I haven’t done this with other women. Karen comes to mind, but it was never the same. I was Jodie’s first. We made this happen together and created something between us that can, quite possibly, withstand eleven long years of absence.

  “Mmm,” I groan, just to give her a little something to hold on to. A tiny sign of approval.

  Whack. I treat Jodie’s other butt cheek to the same, but instead of just two strokes, I let them come down hard and fast. Asking her to count now would be beyond cruel.

  One last crack of my belt and the reflection of her face in the window gives me a lump in my throat. I haven’t been faced with such surrender in a long time. So much of what we had between us is still there. It rose to the surface the instant my belt connected with her flesh.

  And I want to grab her, kiss her, tell her all the things I’ve saved up over the years, but I need to end this ritual properly. I let my finger trace the marks my belt has left, rubbing the pain into her flesh even more. Nobody has ever hurt for me the way Jodie has.

  Then I can’t stop myself from taking her into my arms any longer. I glue my body to her backside and the contact of our skins nearly makes me cry. Nearly.

  “Is that what you wanted, Jodie?” I ask. I feel her body give a little in my embrace. “Answer me.” I find her gaze in the window’s reflection.

  “Yes,” she says, her voice hoarse.

  “On the bed,” I command, but I find myself unable to step away from her—I’ve done enough of that in my life. Instead of making room for her to move, I press my nose into her hair and inhale her scent.

  At last, I give her the space she needs to turn around, but still I can’t fully find the persona I usually so easily adopt in the bedroom. I grab her by the back of the neck and kiss her deeply. I recover quickly, as if a little bit of her is enough for now, and end our kiss abruptly.

  “Go on,” I say, not allowing for any more hesitation. “You know the drill.”

  By the time I’ve stripped off the rest of my clothes, Jodie is in position on the bed. She lies on her back, her fingers curled around the railing.

  I loop the belt I used on her earlier and fasten it around her wrists nice and tight.

  “Spread your legs.” I crawl to the back of the bed and take in the sight. Her pussy lips glisten with moisture, and I can’t let her know how seeing her like this affects me. “Wider,” I say in a stern voice. She lets her knees fall farther to either side.

  “You really want this, don’t you?” I can’t look away from Jodie’s pussy. I can hardly stand the thought that other women
have touched it, but I know it’s a highly hypocritical, useless thought. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you, Jodie?” I tear my gaze away from between her legs and look her in the eyes.

  “Yes.” Her tone is more defiant than I had expected. Time to take her down a peg.

  “How many fingers, Jodie?” I ask. “Three?” I chuckle. “Nah, three is nothing for you. I know that much. Four perhaps?” I let my gaze drop down to between her legs again. “Or do you want everything, Jodie? Hm?”

  “All of it,” she rumbles, her breath ragged.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she says, like the first time she asked me to do this to her. I haven’t reached the exact headspace I need for this yet. Maybe this was the way it was destined to go between us this afternoon, but it doesn’t mean it’s easy. This is as far removed from just sex—from just two bodies meeting—as I’ve ever been. All the memories, the regrets, the mistakes that lie between us, and yet, look at us now. I’m about to fuck her, give her everything, and I feel nerves rage in my belly.

  “Yes,” she says, her eyes on me. “And you know it.”

  I put a hand on Jodie’s lower belly and I can hear her breath catch in her throat. I marvel at how her skin breaks out in goosebumps at the slightest touch of my hand. I look up and see impatience glitter in her eyes. Perhaps she has waited for this moment as long as I have. My waiting was never entirely conscious, except in those rare moments when I got completely hammered on martinis and, as they say, the truth just lay there, all bare and obvious for me to see at the bottom of my glass. I could hardly describe those as conscious moments, though. Only fleeting instances of longing that passed when the next day came and the new morning light erased them.

  I guide my fingers to her cunt. No hesitation. I need to be inside of her now. Three slip in easily. Jodie gasps for air but doesn’t close her eyes, and that’s when I truly see her. A state of abandon is not that hard to reach when you know how to push someone’s buttons, but this is not just abandon on Jodie’s face. I halt the motion of my fingers, just let them be inside of her, all of Jodie clasping around them while I look into those green, green eyes. And I already know there will be no walking away from this. Those eyes, that glare, even the new lines that have gathered around her mouth, they’re my home. Three seconds inside of Jodie is all I need to know that, eleven years ago, I made a big mistake.

  I start fucking her and she groans in response.

  “Oh fuck,” she says. “Oh, Leigh.”

  Hearing Jodie say my name unravels something inside of me, but I need to stay focused. I fuck her quicker, before pulling out and giving her everything she asked for. Slowly, slowly, I cover my hand in her wetness, and I fuck her with everything I have. Not just my hand, but my entire being. I should have known when I walked away from her after our last fuck, on the floor of her apartment. I broke down in Sonja’s spare bedroom as soon as I deposited the suitcases Jodie had packed. I howled from sheer physical pain, but I thought that was normal. I was so utterly convinced I’d made the right decision, and it was the right decision at the time, but only for a brief while. I should have gone to see her when Muriel cornered me. I should have reversed our fate when I had the chance.

  Jodie’s eyes are glazing over. “Relax,” I say because I have something else in store for her. What I hinted at earlier. I slip my free hand from her belly to beneath the hand I’m fucking her with. Jodie’s eyes widen. She knows. Her eyes close.

  I push my hand deeper into her pussy, while I circle her sphincter with the index finger of my other hand. I have to look away from her face. I need to see what my hands are doing.

  I also can’t look at her when I start to cry.

  I let my finger slip past the rim and I can’t help but sneak a glance. Tears run down Jodie’s cheeks as well. Her eyes flicker open and shut, but I don’t think she sees anything. She’s lost in the moment and, perhaps, this is the sight I missed the most. The sight of total surrender. Her wrists bound. Her body completely open to me, a display of trust, a vision of what years apart can’t erase.

  I can feel her pussy starting to contract around my fist. Her body stiffens, then relaxes. Time for my hand to retreat, to leave Jodie Whitehouse—this time, it won’t be forever.

  Our eyes meet and Jodie seems taken aback by my tears. But all I see are my desires reflected back at me. We both knew well before entering this room that this would not be an ending again. I untie her wrists, massaging and kissing them where my belt dented the skin.

  “Good grief, Jodie,” I whisper in her ear as I push her down and stretch next to her.

  Jodie wraps her arms around me and faces me. Our cheeks are sodden with tears of relief and nostalgia and—I know this—love. I hold her tight, hoping it comes across that I intend to never let her go again.

  “Maybe you should come to New York sometime,” Jodie says. My heart flutters. I don’t know how to reply with words. I need to let a burst of happiness wash over me before I can find them.

  “Maybe I will,” I say, gravely understating my true emotions, but Jodie knows. I know she does.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The next morning when I wake up early because we never did take the time to draw the curtains, Leigh is still fast asleep beside me. I take in her relaxed face; her lips are slightly parted, her eyes a bit baggy from the crying.

  I check the alarm clock and my first thought, as always, is Rosie. It’s only 6 a.m. Gerald and I will meet Troy for breakfast at 9 so we can catch the midday flight to New York.

  Would it make Troy happy to see me appear at breakfast with Leigh by my side? It’s a thought I’m not ready to entertain just yet.

  Last night, Leigh and I got caught up in long hours of reminiscing, lying in each other’s arms while avoiding drawing conclusions. Until we fell asleep, naked, our arms lightly touching, just as they always used to. What should my first words be to her when she wakes up? I can’t stop looking at her. Her hair is pointing in all directions and one cheek is a bit wrinkly from lying on her side. It reminds me of lazy Sunday mornings when it was Gerald’s week with Troy, and an entire day stretched out in front of us. The immense feeling of comfort to be spending the day with someone you love, doing the things you love, unencumbered, free in the union we then, still, chose.

  My wrists are stiff, despite Leigh’s incessant stroking of them last night, after the fact. When I stretch, my butt cheeks sting in the most satisfying way, and my pussy feels tender. I think of the time we have left, the few hours between now and my leaving for the airport. Would she really consider visiting me in New York? If all the things she said last night are true, she just might.

  As much as I love watching her sleep, time ticking away from us gets the best of me. Leigh’s lying on her back, the duvet half thrown off, and I remember what it was like to wake up beside her every morning. A small but significant blessing, because what better way to start the day than laying eyes on the woman I love? The woman who taught me more about myself than I ever deemed possible. After she left me, waking up was always the hardest—especially on days when Troy was at his dad’s. But I’ve dealt with the emptiness of those mornings. Time has, for once, softened the memories that needed it most. And look at me now? Mother of two children, and in bed with Leigh Sterling. The most crucial of our differences dissolved as the years have gone by.

  I trail a finger along her collarbones, only hesitating for a split second before dragging it down across her torso, to her left nipple. It’s still limp with sleep, but not for long. I encircle it with the tip of my finger, but I need more. I move so I can take it in my mouth. As I wrap my lips around it, Leigh expels a light groan, followed by, “Good morning to you too.”

  Her voice instantly undoes me a little—although sparingly used, it was always an important instrument in our love-making—and I let her nipple slip from my lips to look at her.

  “Morning.” Leigh’s face breaks into a smile that makes my heart sing. A grin so unselfco
nscious and free, it makes me realize I could fall in love with her all over again. “You should probably do it, you know,” I hear myself say.

  “What?” Leigh pulls me close to her, until my ear reaches her lips. “Book a ticket to New York, you mean?” Her voice is a horny whisper, full of promise of things to come—if she does book that ticket.

  I nod, my cheek now against her lips. I turn my face toward her fully, to look into her eyes. No more words are needed now. I lean in to kiss her, and this kiss, this morning, with early sunlight illuminating us, and the memory of last night in our hearts, is one that travels all the way through me, its divine sensation settling in the pit of my stomach. I won’t fall in love with Leigh again because I already am. Perhaps it started when she loosened her belt from her trousers—although that would mean reducing the moment to one of pure physicality. To the mere promise of sexual satisfaction, and it was so much more than that. If I know one thing, back in the day and now, it was never promises keeping us together. And it was never just the scorching scenes in our bedroom Leigh managed to create. It was—is—much more than that. Then and now. Because how do you forget a love like that? The life we shared, the companionship, the deep friendship and understanding that connected us much more than Leigh tying me up ever could, they were the hardest to lose.

  How Leigh was there for me after rough days—and in my profession, a lot of days are heartbreaking—not just with legal advice and a shoulder to lean on, but how she knew the right, lighter words to say to cheer me up. How she could disarm me by arching up her eyebrows and pulling her lips into a silly grin. How, when I came home, I’d find her building an intricate Lego construction with Troy, his whole being so in awe of her—and how I felt that too, then.

  “How about next weekend?” Leigh asks when we break from our kiss.