We worked on my book, and we worked on each other's bodies, and we talked about everything we could think of. That's how we spent the following two weeks. I did a good job of pushing down my doubts, ignoring and avoiding the voice of reason that implored me from the back of my stubborn, denial - driven mind. I didn't want anything to burst my precious bubble and take me from the pedestal upon which he had placed me.
A strong cold I developed interrupted our passion. I felt rough and unattractive, and knew I was almost certainly very infectious too, so I asked him to stay away. I didn't mind too much, knowing that my immune system would fight back quickly like it always does, and confident that the time apart would just intensify what we had. An excuse to miss work and to laze around with Romeo, watching films and eating chocolate, was also welcome. Writing was something I could do, and I put what I felt to be the finishing touches to my book, a process I enjoyed. My own descriptions of sex turned me on, evoking fresh memories of things we'd done together. Avenues we had explored. In particular I remembered the last time, and wondered if I had a real thing for being dominated, or if I had just enjoyed the novelty of it.
I called Brian and told him all about what had happened, how Ed and I had got back together, how he'd said he loved me, how I felt like I was nearly ready to say it back. Brian disappointed me. I expected him to be happy for me, to celebrate my delight, to be excited about my future. But he was hesitant, with lots of questions and lots of long pregnant pauses, like he couldn't make up his mind about this. Like he was trying to warn me.
"You're supposed to be pleased - because things are actually working out for me, things are good for me now, okay? And all I'm getting from you is this... weird concern."
Brian's tone finally warned up a little. "I'm sorry, honey. I just... I just worry, about how sudden this is. Are you sure you can really forgive him? For those photos?"
I waved my hand dismissively, although only Romeo could see the gesture. "I don't want to keep holding on to that. That's in the past. We all make mistakes."
"Okay. If you're sure, then great, good for you. I mean it. Good for you."
I said thanks, and we chatted about his life for a while, he made me laugh, and told me I sounded disgustingly blocked up. I felt good when we hung up, glad someone else knew that Ed and I were back on.
It took a few days for me to feel better again. I stayed off work, watched more films, carried on tweaking my book, and messaged Ed all kinds of little jokes, silly videos, and dirty little promises of what I was going to do for and to him as soon as we could meet again. I teased him about how he had finally revealed his dominant side. I didn't want to infect him by jumping the gun, and there was something exciting about having to wait a while. He responded with the same sort of stuff, just a bit funnier and a bit more daring than me. And I was glad for that -- something he had done from the start was draw me out of my shell, find the more daring sides of me, encourage me to have more confidence. Despite feeling physically run-down, that week was a very happy one for me, with my affection and lust building up steadily, making me feel all warm and loving.
When I woke up and felt completed recovered, my first thought was to grab my phone and message Ed, and tell him to come over. But I rethought that, and had what I believed was a better idea -- go over to his place and surprise him. What could be more fun that that? He wouldn't be expecting it, I would be taking the initiative, being a great girlfriend. I knew he wasn't working, he'd told me his plan for the day was just to relax, and maybe write another short story. It was perfect. I spent that morning getting washed, dressed, dolled-up with a lot of care and attention, and thinking through what I could do in the bedroom, what new thing might give Ed a thrill. I briefly considered making a return to the sex shop we'd visited together, but didn't fancy the walk, so I decided I would just tell him that he could do anything he wanted to me, and hope he didn't want to fuck me up the arse or any of the other painful sex acts.
I waited until late morning and then off I went, in the very best of moods, with headphones on and my special good feelings playlist filling my ears with lovely sounds. It was an overcast day, a classic English winter grey-blue day, with grey winning out. Cold but above freezing. I pulled my coat around myself and strode on, weirdly aroused by knowing that under all my layers I was wearing my skimpiest, sexiest underwear. Just for him. Lost in a reverie of thoughts of our future, I walked right past the house, and had to come back on myself fifty metres or so. I walked up to the door and knocked firmly.
A delay, and then it was opened, by Gareth. He stared at me like I was some possibly dangerous animal, and he was waiting to see if I would attack. I waited for him to recognise me, widening my smile a bit in case this was one of his jokes. He looked nothing like the first time he had opened the door to me, and not because the moustache had grown thicker and become unruly, it was something I found it hard to put a finger on. Could he have been even skinnier than before? He definitely seemed paler.
Finally there was a spark of recognition. "Lizzie. It's... good to see you."
"You too Gareth." I shrugged, and made a show of rubbing my hands together. "Cold today, isn't it? Can I come in? I've come to surprise Ed."
Gareth licked his lips in a nervous manner, and glanced behind him, then back to me. "He's not expecting you?"
"No, he doesn't know that I've got over the bad cold I've had these last few days. I thought I'd give him a nice surprise." I felt I was repeating myself now, and my cheery smile was not melting Gareth's frozen face. Although his eyes looked less fearful now. More... sad. Or perhaps that's my unreliable memory. A few people have told me that I remember things poorly, that I change details of the past to fit what happened later, to fit my own needs. I don't think that's true. I don't think I do that.
"Well, maybe you should... you could call him, maybe."
