After that terrace night with Sonia, things went quiet for a while. I didn't see her around--word was her parents caught on to her sneaking out and clamped down hard. No more hanging out with friends, just straight home from college, phone and email privileges gone. I let it be--life kept moving.
A few months later, my ex, Tara, came back into the picture. She'd had her time apart, figured she missed me, and reached out soft and sweet. We patched things up, and the spark between us flared hot in bed. Before our breakup, we'd kept it gentle, easygoing, but this time around, I was still simmering from her walking out. I let that fire loose--gave it to her steady and strong, the way I'd been with Sonia--and she leaned into it, loving every minute. We fell into a rhythm that felt new and alive.
Not long after, Tara and I tied the knot--settled into a little life together that turned routine fast. More on that in Tara's chapter down the road. About a year into marriage, we grabbed an apartment of our own--a cozy spot with hardwood floors, big windows letting in the city glow, and a lived-in feel. That's when Sonia popped up again. She'd just finished college, finally stretching her legs a bit after her parents eased up, and tracked me down. Tara was off for the weekend--a girls' trip--and Sonia called, voice warm and restless: "I need to see you." I was kicking back with my college buddy Nate--beers open, movies rolling on the TV in our living room--when she rang. "I'm married now," I said, keeping it light, "no more playing like before." She laughed, low and teasing. "I'm all wound up--help me out, or I won't settle down." I mentioned Nate was over--good guy, still a virgin, shy around women--and she perked up. "Oh, that'll do," she said, a grin in her voice. "I could have some fun with a newbie." I hesitated--"Not sure about this"--but she brushed it off, firm and playful: "Chill some vodka--I'm coming over."
Half an hour later, she breezed in--jeans hugging her like a second skin, halter top showing off just enough, a thin sweater slipping off one shoulder. She looked good--too good--and flashed me a smile as she grabbed a vodka and orange juice from the kitchen counter, joining us on the couch. We sank into the cushions--me, Nate, her in the middle--and let the night roll. For hours, it was easy--drinks flowing, laughter bouncing around, old action flicks humming in the background. She turned it up with Nate--tossing little teases his way, brushing his arm, saying things like, "Bet you're hiding some charm under there." He lit up--clumsy but eager--rarely got attention like that. I'd only told him Sonia and I had a past, kept it vague, but she was laying it on thick, leaning close to him, then catching my eye with a sly look. It felt like she was poking at me--maybe trying to stir something up--but I sipped my drink, playing it cool.
