Entry 35
'I had my first big fight with Gary a couple of days ago.
To be honest, it was a long time coming because we never really disagreed or butt heads at all, but I arrived home the next morning, and he had a lot of things to say.
Let me start by saying I wasn't planning on ending up at a dingy motel with a hot-as-hell grad student who just so happens to be dominant. But, you know, life's full of surprises, and apparently, so is my libido.
Let's rewind.
It's Community Volunteer Week, and there I was, doing my Good Samaritan act at the local community college, when I met him. He's a little younger than me (ten years younger or more, to be exact), and he's tall and handsome.
To be fair, I wasn't looking to get into any form of trouble that day; I was just there to play my part, and he started talking to me.
He's a great conversationalist, and we hit it off almost immediately. We bonded on coffee and the terrible but additive croissants being sold on campus. I thought he was sweet at first. Boy, was I in for a surprise. Not only is he sweet, but he's also got this dominant streak that came out of nowhere. And let me tell you, when a guy like that slips you a note inviting you to a dingy motel... Well, it's hard to say no.
I was REALLY thinking about Gary, and I REALLY wanted to say no, but the thought of handcuffs and being spanked was too much to handle.
After my rendezvous with Gary's friend, I couldn't stay idle for the life of me. I needed something to fill me up or someone to fill me up, and then he waltzed into my life. I'm going to just take it as a sign from the universe and nothing more.
Fast forward to me walking into the motel room like a woman with no business being there. And what happened next? Probably the best sex I've had since... I don't even know. He was commanding and intense, and I didn't even have to think.
It was everything I'd ever imagined it to be. I was tied to the posts of the bed, and I was fucked like I was some raggedly old doll, someone discarded by the side of the room. My ass cheeks and thighs are still a little sore from being whipped that night, but sore in a good way.
He paid so much attention to my body while also letting me know how in control he was of it.
Let's just say I may or may not have passed out right after because, honestly, my body couldn't handle the workout. And no, I did not set an alarm because I didn't think I'd have any need to.
Who does that after mind-blowing sex?
So when I woke up the next morning--still in that damn motel--I realized I was in trouble. Cue me sneaking out like a criminal trying to make my escape. But of course, the universe loves to screw with me because as soon as I got home, guess who was waiting for me? Yup. Gary.
And he was pissed. Livid. The whole "Where the hell have you been?" routine. The classic "We need to talk" speech. And I get it--l didn't exactly give him a heads-up. But the way he was going on about it, you would think I did this for fun.
I always told Gary where I was going, and the one time I didn't, all hell broke loose. He was supposed to cut me some slack and let me explain, but he didn't. So I did what any seasoned housewife does: I guilt-tripped him right back.
I told him how much being in this marriage had been stifling (which was true) and how much I needed my space (which was also true). To get away from it all, I revealed to him that I had slept at a hotel so I could just breathe.
Cue the dramatic sigh for effect.
And you know what? It worked. Of course, Gary would believe that I needed some alone time and slept in a hotel instead of a dingy motel with a twenty-four-year-old Masters student who's also a dominant.
He softened and empathized with me. Telling me how he didn't realize I felt so overwhelmed and how I deserved a break.
Damn right, I do.
So, what did I propose? A vacation. To Paris. Because if I'm going to play the "overworked wife who just needs to get away" card, I'm going to milk it for all it's worth. I haven't taken a real break in years, and if I'm being honest, I deserve to wander the streets of Paris, sipping wine and eating croissants without feeling guilty about it. And maybe fucking a couple of hot French men while at it.
Wink, wink.
And guess what? He agreed. I'm going to Paris. Finally, the trip I've been planning with my friends won't be in vain.'
The only thing that has kept me from running mad or dissolving into a pile of goo with how horny I was is the fact that I was going to Paris.
At one point last night, I'd snuggled closer to Paul and slipped my hand into his sweatpants, trying to get something started, but he'd mumbled, 'I'm exhausted, Ash,' and rolled over to the other side.
Sex with Paul wasn't happening any time soon, and on a normal day, I would be devastated about this fact, but today wasn't a normal day.
As I skipped to the store, the only thing in my head was the Paris trip and how I needed to get berets for the trip.
I made my way into the store and walked to the women's section. It was a pretty expensive store, but I'd saved up over the years to be able to splurge on this trip. It was a gift to myself, and Paul had also given me his card to use--because he felt utterly guilty for neglecting my needs--so that was another win, too.
My eyes perused the store, looking through the racks for outfits that screamed, 'I belong in Paris.'
I caught sight of a baby pink knitted vest that was completely adorable and also sexy because it was low-rise. I was just about to drop it back on the rack when I thought about it.
There's no harm in showing a little bit of cleavage in Paris, and I needed to be more confident about my body. I had great tatas, and I needed to show them off.
"You'll stun in that," a voice above me said.
I sighed. "I don't know if I want my cleavage out to the entire world like that," I said to the worker, not turning back, and placed the top back on the rack.
"Are you sure?" the voice asked.
Okay, this definitely wasn't a worker.
I raised my head to see the most stunning pair of eyes looking down at me. And whoever this person was, he looked ridiculous in the bright pink hat he was wearing and also awfully familiar.
I frowned at the face. "Derek?"
He grinned at me, confirming my suspicion. I do know him.
"If it isn't the one and only Ashley."
I gasped. "Oh my God. What are you doing here?"
He chuckled. "Shopping."
Okay, to be fair, I was at a high-end store, but still! Derek Williamson, here, in the flesh after all these years. It still felt like a dream.
I had the biggest crush on him back in college, and he was just that popular guy that was always out of reach. Sure, we conversed once or twice in group settings, but it was normal for Derek because he was so down to earth.
And now, he wasn't just the cool guy from school anymore. He was a billionaire. A freaking billionaire.
I laughed. "Still, I never imagined you shopping here."
He shrugged. "I just want to be treated normally sometimes."
"Is that why you have a very conspicuous-looking pink hat?"
I frowned and pouted. "I thought it was a very good disguise."
"You thought wrong."
I used the time to give him a once over, and he did the same for me. I took in the casual white tee he wore and the pants that looked crisp and sharp. His entire outfit contrasted greatly with the hat he had on.
He smiled at me. "You're still as beautiful as I remember."
I giggled. "Stop."
That was pretty unexpected because Derek had never said anything like that to me before. For as long as I could remember, I was practically friendzoned.
His eyes trailed back to the top. "So, are you getting it or what?"
I swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. I hadn't seen him in years, but it was like no time had passed at all. And now? Now, he was looking at me in a way that made it hard to think straight.
