1
I bought something just for you.
She changed her mind, unsure, hidden, sweltering in the overwhelming feeling to turn and walk away.
Besides
, she reminded herself,
it's just coffee
.
"I expected more people." He scanned the room, his eyes returning to hers, looking down. He wasn't much taller, only three inches. "We don't have to stay. I thought we'd have a crowd to get lost in."
"It's OK. It's OK. Coffee? Yes, coffee. There, in the corner."
Mabel's Kitchen
was a quaint hole-in-the-wall, the perfect place for a close encounter of the third kind, where they'd not stumble over anyone they knew. A nook with a homey feeling, a maximum capacity of thirty-five, the absence of windows shut out the bright afternoon sun.
A nod, leading, almost to the table, a glance over his shoulder, taking her wrist, not pulling, not dragging, her in tow. The door opened,
Men
, closed. He turned on her, close, her back to the door.
She took his wrists, pulling a breath, his hands worked the buttons, her hands impotent, riding his.
This is not a good idea
, she thought. She poised the declaration
No
, but couldn't give it voice.
"Pretty. New? Black lace and flowers. Perfect." His calm, it-seems-like-we've-done-this-a-million-times demeanor disarmed her.
She knew if she admitted buying the bra for him, she'd be admitting too much. Her cheeks caught fire. "Yeah." Deep draw on the air, hands flat to the door, back arched.
Slipping in her shirt, his right palm cupped her ribs, his left hand cradled her right breast.
"I got little tatas." Her self-perceived inadequacies rushed in on her like a backdraft. She wanted to pull she shirt closed. She burned to turn away. His gaze trapped her, contradicting everything she felt about herself.
"
Cute
little tatas." His lips barely caressed the waterfall of color running down her neck onto her chest, pausing on the exposed bulge of her breast.
"Damn." She tensed against the door.
This, is not the plan.
His fingers worked the buttons again, his eyes watching hers, her eyes watching back.
"That's as naked as I need you at the moment."
Helping with the buttons, she sighed with relief. She sighed with disappointment.
Like a butterfly's wing, his lips touched hers, hers, his.
Tapping sang from the door. "You OK in there?"
She blushed. He snickered.
2
"You've really been married three times?" she asked casually, watching first her coffee, and then his seaweed brown eyes.
"Marry young and marry often." His hand roamed the small table, a finger glancing the back of her free hand.
"Where'd you tell her you are?"
He shrugged. "Where'd you tell him?"
She shrugged back. "Just curious, I guess. Like --" She narrowed her cobalt eyes, a surreal color belying the reality, calling into question the soft sun-bleached winter wheat of her hair. "-- I know you've got this life you haven't told me about."
He mocked her eyes. "When I was seven, I was out playing and got to laughing so hard, I peed my pants. I went to the birdbath and dumped in on myself, telling my mother it spilled on me when I was changing the water."
"That was smart, I guess, but what's that got to do with anything?"
"Many things happened in my life -- are happening in my life." He cradled her hand, running his thumb across her pallid flesh. "None of which has anything to do with this moment." He nodded toward the restroom. "That moment, or any other moment with you."
She bit her pinked lower lip. "I was just --"
"I
was
going to say: the time to address your guilt was when I suggested with meet, but really: the time for you to address your guilt was when I first IMed you."
"It's complicated."
"Most people want to make a complex stew out of life. It's not. It's simple. You told me things you thought I wanted to hear, I've told you things I thought you wanted to hear."
"It's been a good friendship, us supporting each other unconditionally. The thing I like about the Internet is I can at least pretend people are listening to me. This -- meeting -- is something different."
"We lie to our self twice about our lover. In the beginning to her benefit, then in the end to her detriment. Here, in this moment, we just have
now
." He sat back, taking in the room. "You're the most beautiful woman here."
"Liar."
He twisted a smirk, leaning forward, taking her hand again. "Oh, if you only knew." His eyes danced from her face, down her neck, pausing on her breasts as if to see through the soft white cotton of her shirt. "Then, allow me to add: in this moment, to me, you are the most beautiful woman in the room."
Oh, man
, she thought, blushing deeply again, considering her coffee.
If my husband would look at me like this
. "Or look at me at all."
"Say again?"
"Just thinking aloud." She rolled her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to withdraw her hand. "I can't remember the last time --"
"Love can change, become comfortable."
She sighed. "Not fiery."
"Comfortable."
"Do you pull your wife into bathrooms --"
"No."
"Why?"
"She'd think it stupid and embarrassing. Besides, the smell of the urinal blocks makes her gag."
"That's too bad." She glimpsed the door. "I'd not noticed --"
"That
would
be the point."
3
"How'd it go?" he asked, not looking from the computer.
"As expected. You're home early."
"Yeah."
She meant:
Why are you home early?
"I was thinking." The buttons came undone. With much lip-biting, she opened her shirt. "What do you think of this?"
"What?"
"You have to turn around and look."
"Just a sec. I gotta harvest this."
Thirty seconds dripped by. Finally, he turned. "You've got a muffin top going."
She closed her shirt, hugging herself.
Fifty years on the planet and squeezing out two kids will do that.