My first story was about how I met Rich and how he and I found our connection. This is the story of how I almost lost that relationship, and how -- with a little help from another woman - I managed to save it.
When I started dating, I learned quickly that I had an appetite for sex. I had sex when I wanted, with whoever I wanted. I didn't have sex with just anyone, just who I wanted. I'm sure a lot of guys I met thought of me as the bitch they couldn't get. I was hot, I had my pick of guys, and I didn't give out pity fucks. But I also didn't have the best judgment and I got cheated on. A lot. So I cheated. And that's pretty much how I thought relationships went. Cheating and making up was intense, and the sex that went along with it became pretty addicting. Not healthy, but hot, and I didn't know any better. Unfortunately, even getting together with Rich didn't change me. At least not right away...
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I was living with, well, I'll say a roommate. Her name is Connie, you'll meet her later. I am telling you how I almost blew it with Rich, and the crazy way we managed to stay together. When we started seeing each other, we both worked a lot, we both already had full schedules, and we saw each other when we could. Because of my fucked-up past, in my mind, when a guy wasn't with me, he was with someone else. I had the party-hosting gig in town, and my other gig was doing set-up and product demonstrations at trade shows. I traveled a lot, and Rich traveled a lot for his job. Even though Rich and I were together, I kept doing what I had always done. I slept with other guys when he wasn't around, and I assumed he was doing the same thing.
But with Rich, one thing was different: I started to feel bad about it. (That probably made it pretty intense for the guy I was fucking. I was having some very dirty anger sex and he didn't even know it. I bet there's somebody writing another story about me right now, and it begins something like "You're not going to believe this...")
So, yeah, I felt guilty. I had never felt guilty before. Feeling guilty made me angry. And my angry was directed at him for cheating on me, even though I didn't know if he even was cheating, and I had never told him not to cheat anyway, and it was purely an assumption on my part. I was angry at him because I thought it was his fault that I was cheating, because I had to cheat because I knew he was cheating. I was mad, I was guilty, I was madder because I was guilty, so I did more stupid shit, making me more guilty.
In other words, I was fucked up. But, true to form, when we would get back together after he'd been out of town, the sex was atmos-fucking-pheric. I don't know how to describe it. He heated me from the inside out until I melted. By the time we'd spent a weekend together I was a well-fucked puddle of limp satisfaction. I'm sure it was good for him, too, because, since I was so sure he was cheating, I drained him dry as often as I could when we were together. It was dysfunctional, and misguided, but it was all, somehow, because I cared about him. I just didn't know that relationships were about anything other than sex. And the sex was incredible.
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One Saturday evening I was getting dressed, getting ready to meet Rich, who was coming back from a work trip. I was leaving Monday myself on a trade show trip, so we were going to have two night together. I headed downstairs and on the landing of the stairwell I could see Connie (the roommate) on the pool deck. She was in gym gear, doing yoga. I stopped to watch for a minute.
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This is where I should tell you about Connie. Connie was older than me and had a grown daughter who she had had quite young. She was on her own for years, eventually landing in an office where they recognized some of her talents. She met a guy, they got married, but he was a little older, and unfortunately, he had died. She was alone in a big house, and when I heard she wanted a roommate, it was a win-win.
That tells you a little bit about her, but not everything. She is beautiful. I mean beautiful as in men-walk-into-walls-crash-their-cars-get-slapped-by-their-wives-when-she-passes-by beautiful. I was a little taller, and at age twenty-five a little thinner, and I was sexy, but she was by far the more beautiful. She had that beautiful feminine softness that was both sexy and maternal, if that makes sense. I don't know if guys think of it that way, but that's how I saw her. And she was in great shape, because, (no shade here, guys, but this is the truth) she had not been worn down by men. She was 42 years old with the body of a 28-year old.
Speaking of her body, the story wouldn't make sense without telling you about her body. There's no other way to say this but to tell you her body looked like a man's wet dream. She had beautiful, big, round tits, and a slim waist with hips that curved in a perfect hourglass into a firm, round butt. And just so you understand, when I say her tits were big, they were more than just big. Her tits were huge, and they were perfect. Guys could not help but stare at her. Even Rich flicked his eyes around her body when he came over, and I used to joke about it with him. It was my typical way of disarming my own insecurity, I guess, but the fact is, even though he occasionally looked at her, I never felt an ounce of jealousy over Connie. In fact, I never had any reason to believe (other than my own fucked up assumptions) that he had ever been with anyone other than me since that first crazy weekend.
But I kept up the jokes, and every once in a while, when I was leaving town, I would ask if he was going to be okay, and if he was going to sleep with anyone else, and maybe he should stay at my house. That became a bit of a running joke -- that when I left town, he would ask what Connie was doing while I was gone. In reality, he could not have been sweeter to her. He changed the oil on her car, he changed light bulbs, he drove her to the airport on occasion, and all that time I never thought about being jealous. (Which is weird, because I would have been, and was, ferociously jealous of any other woman he spent any time with. Which also made me feel insecure, and that made me mad, and so on. Again, fucked up. I know.)
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Back to Saturday evening. Connie's doing yoga on the deck, and my phone chirps with a text from Rich.
Rich: Coming over
Me: K
Me: You home early?
Rich: Last night
Rich: Coming over.
That was a little short, I thought. We had planned to meet at his place, which is why I was getting ready. I didn't have much time to think about it anymore because he arrived with a screech of tires in the driveway.
He walked past my hug and said, "Do you have anything you want to tell me?"
"Umm, I want seafood tonight?"
He frowned and turned his head to the side in the way that he used when he was pissed and didn't want to overreact.
"Seriously, that's what you're telling me?"
He started to walk upstairs. I had no idea what was going on, and I waited for him to come back down. I heard him walk to my room, then my bathroom, then start back down the stairs. He stopped on the landing.
I went over to the stairs, and he was on the landing staring out the window. I walked up the stairs to stand next to him. He was looking out at Connie. I purred at him. "She is a hottie, isn't she?"
He sighed an exasperated sigh and he looked at me. "How did you go from that" he punched a finger in the direction of the patio, and then pointed the finger at me "to that? How?"
"What are you talking about?" I walked up the stairs. Connie was doing down dog. "I can do down dog." I still didn't know what his problem was, because I was still in my own paradigm, and all I could think was that whatever this was about, we were going to be in for some killer make-up sex! "Do you want me to show you? Or..." I let me voice get a little low and dirty "...do you want to keep looking at her?" I let me voice drop into a whisper "She does have incredible tits, doesn't she?"
Like I said, we had had a running joke about her for a while, so this wasn't exactly out of bounds for us. And, truth, any guy would love to watch Connie do yoga, as many of my boyfriends had proven over the years. So, I was a little surprised when he didn't take the bait.
He looked at me incredulously. "Are you serious?"
"Well, I know I don't have her curves, but I can totally do down dog!" I was still trying to play this back into familiar territory, and it was still going nowhere.