The Ex-Lovers

This story concludes in the next chapter. Comments are welcome. All characters are fictional and cannot help themselves from being what they are.

* * *

"I just wish my parents weren't being such dicks about this," said Hannah, setting her black roller bag up on the curb in front of the terminal doors. Throngs of travelers were bustling through the doors. Flakes of swirling snow caught in her maroon wool cap and blonde strands of her bobbed hair.

Hannah's parents had not-too-subtly excluded Ben from coming with Hannah to spend the holidays with them at her little brother's new place.

"Don't worry about it, Hannah-belle," said Ben, pulling her checked luggage, stuffed full of gifts, out of the back and setting it next to the carry-on. "They can't avoid me forever. It'll happen."

"I can't wait," sighed Hannah. "I know it's silly, but it's important to me."

"Me too," Ben said. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek. "Now kiss me before—"

"Move it along," boomed a police officer. He sounded bored.

"Too late," said Ben.

As he smiled, Hannah moved in for a kiss. Her lips were still warm from the last of her coffee, and she pressed herself into him. Their parkas squished together, deflating. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," Ben said. "I'll see you soon."

And just like that, Ben found himself alone in town with no plans for a week.

* * *

Esha, stuck with lab duties, joined Ben at a Chinese restaurant a few days later. Taylor had gone up north on a photo shoot. Over hot and sour soup and draft beer, she confided that she didn't think her thing with him would last much longer.

"Is he seeing someone else?"

"No—that's just it; it's always work all the time. There's no way he has time to go out on dates. Then again, here I am working on my Ph.D.; I don't have time to be the only person in his life, and vice versa. We haven't had a good—" Esha's voice broke off as she was looking around at the half-dozen other diners. "Let's just say, it's been a while."

"Sorry to hear that," said Ben. "Especially since you helped Hannah and I get back on track."

Esha took a gulp of her beer. "Oh

really?

Hmm-hmm...do tell."

"Just after you and I talked about the problems Hannah and I were having, I gave it a lot of thought. So Hannah and I had that conversation. Since then, well—let's just say we had a

very

nice goodbye before her trip."

"Did you tell her?"

"Not exactly."

Esha raised her eyebrow. "Ben, you promised you'd tell her. Monogamy—"

"No, no...she knows something happened. No details, except that it was you; she believes me and—well, actually, it's more like, she trusts

you

more than she believes

me

. We talked a lot, about perceptions, fantasies, insecurities. We decided to leave the past alone. So we redrew the lines a little—and then a little more—but just talk for now. Part of that talk, about the future, got kind of...specific."

"Specific about the two of you?"

"Yeah, we talked a

lot

about us and we got to a very good place. We're commited to each other, we know that." He paused, looking Esha in the eye. "Part of that commitment is honesty...about other feelings."

"Don't be mysterious, Ben."

Ben smiled and reached for his wallet. "No mystery. Let me settle the bill and we can go someplace a little more private. Suffice it to say, your name came up, and Taylor's, and if you two are splitting..."

* * *

"—just a touch of snow and light wind, with a temperature just below freezing. Local time is eleven thirty-two," the flight attendant said over the intercom. "We will be deplaning momentarily."

Hannah turned on her phone and texted Ben that she'd landed. He replied:

Flight get in okay?

Yeah,

she texted back.

I'll be out in a minute.

After several inexplicable minutes of standing in line, Hannah finally found herself striding up the gangway, pulling her carry-on behind her. She'd stuffed her big orange parka in between the two black metal struts of the handle.

Then came the long walk back to the security checkpoint. Beyond it stood one or two limo drivers and only a few expectant relatives. There hadn't been many business people on the flight; it was mostly families travelling back home together.

No Ben.

Hannah paused and looked around, then pulled out her phone. As she was unlocking the keypad, she had to do a double-take—one tall drink of water wasn't who she expected at all. He was a raven-haired, clean-shaven man wearing a bright red parka and smiling his big crooked, impossibly cute smile.

"Taylor?!"

* * *

Light spilled through Hannah's door into the dark apartment. Taylor hefted Hannah's suitcase across the threshold. It wasn't too heavy; Hannah could've taken it herself, but Taylor had insisted on seeing her in. It was well after midnight, and Hannah appreciated that he hadn't just dumped her in the parking lot.

As for Taylor being there at all... His only remark about Ben's absence had been, "Ben just asked if I could give you a ride. He said you'd understand."

When Hannah switched on the light, she discovered a bottle of merlot sitting on her modular Swedish coffee table. Sitting conspicuously next to next to the bottle was a handwritten note on a folded scrap of heavy-weight sketch paper. It read:

Here he is, a present all wrapped up for you. Enjoy yourself - he knows the rules. Have fun... -Ben

Hannah folded the paper over in her hands, and tossed a look at Taylor. He was standing half inside the doorway, trying to look bashful.

"Ben's not coming over, is he?"

Taylor froze.

Hannah set the note down. "I know why you're here," she admitted. "But honestly, it's been a long trip. Let's just...hang out for a bit. Talk."

"Of course," Taylor said, nodding. "Do you want a glass of wine after a long day of travelling?"

"Hmm, that really sounds perfect. I mean, a

week

under the same roof as my family. You would not believe what my mother said when..."

They wandered into the kitchen. Taylor encouraged Hannah to vent as he pulled out her folding waiter's corkscrew (always top drawer, left of the stove, ever since Hannah quit that restaurant) and two stemless wineglasses.

Hannah accepted her drink like water in the desert. She thanked Taylor and took a long gulp.

"You weren't kidding," Taylor laughed. "A week at your brother's house with no drinking? I'm shocked."

She shook her head. "Of course it's no big deal if

he

drinks, but mother always comments if I have a glass. We all just wait until she goes to bed, but that can be a long wait."

Taylor topped off his own glass and refilled Hannah's. They locked eyes, clinked glasses and held eye contact through the first drink.

"Dad asked about you," she continued, drawing out her words. She looked away. "He thought we were still together so he didn't understand what mother's problem was."

"That must've driven her crazy."

Hannah smiled. "You should have seen. She launched into a thing about fathers needing to be protective and he just shrugged and goes, 'Hannah can have all the boyfriends she wants if they're half as good as Ben or Taylor.' That shut the whole evening down. Mother went into the bedroom crying, Dad went after her and my brother and I just stayed up playing board games until his new girlfriend came over."

"How is he, anyway? Your brother."

They wandered into the living room and Hannah made herself comfortable on the floor, sitting cross-legged.

"Still not the same," she said, "Not since he broke up with Katie. I mean he's

really

playing the field. He told me he even slept with one of his TAs—

after

grades were turned in, thank god."

Taylor set his wine on the coffee table. He knelt behind Hannah and massaged her shoulders. He felt about a half-dozen knots beneath her blouse, the biggest of which sat directly under the strap of her bra.

The room filled with silence as Hannah's voice trailed off and she curved back into Taylor's arms.

After several quiet minutes, she sighed. "I really like this." She stopped Taylor's hand on her shoulder with her own. "But if you keep going I'm just going to fall asleep."

"Should I leave?"

Hannah bit her lip, then turned to look at Taylor out of the corner of her eye. "I can't finish that bottle by myself. Let's do something else."

* * *

Hannah put on slow and sensual instrumental music with exotic instruments, turned down low and perfect for after-midnight conversation. Taylor had one of Hannah's sketch books and was halfway through outlining her features while they talked.

"You know what would feel great?—if you wouldn't mind waiting. I'd like a quick shower. Give me fifteen minutes, tops, and I'll come back to this."

Taylor stopped for a moment, examining his sketch. "Your hair will be all different," he said. He looked at her, screwed up his courage and asked her simply: "Let me watch you."

There it was. Hannah twisted her mouth, trying to think what a femme fatale would say. A blush rose on her cheeks...Finally she just choked out a laugh, nodded and said, "Yeah."

Setting her wine down beside Taylor's, Hannah turned up the music a bit and got to her feet. She did a long stretch, reaching her arms out to the ceiling, and exhaled deeply. She set her feet apart from each other about the breadth of her shoulders and wriggled her toes in the carpet, centering her stance in the middle of the room.

"Here goes," Hannah said, half to herself. She locked eyes with Taylor and started to sway to the beat of the music.

Taylor, realizing what Hannah was about to do, kept her gaze as he shifted in place. He didn't seem to know whether to lean forward or back, or what to do with his hands; he only knew that he couldn't look away.

Hannah licked her lips, breathed out and swung her hips out to the side, then turned her torso slightly, tracing perfect horizontal figure 8s with her hips. Back and forth she danced in time. The look between them grew more intense as Hannah's dance picked up.

She snaked her arms above her head and laced her fingers at the nape of her neck, disheveling her short hair and straining the buttons on her charcoal grey blouse. Her breasts pushed forward.

With just a look, Hannah dared Taylor to break eye contact and succumb to the male gaze. She rolled her pelvis forward, undulating her body as if she were making love to him. He seemed to have been pulled forward bodily, hanging on the edge of his seat.

Returning to the horizontal figure 8s, Hannah smoothed her hands down around the curve of her breasts and pulled the blouse's hem over the waist of her jeans, until the top button threatened to pop open of its own accord.

Snaking her hands back up to her bust, Hannah plunged in headfirst, opening the buttons quickly. The blouse loosened and fell to the sides, exposing her sexy blue satin bra pushing up her cleavage.

She'd forgotten what she had on. Her underwear were brand new; she'd picked them up as a treat for herself, and had worn them tonight to surprise Ben. Now she found herself posing in them for Taylor.

Taylor's eyes were huge as he focused on Hannah's; he was biting his lip and fidgeting. For a moment, he twisted on the couch, stuck out his leg and adjusted the developing bulge in his jeans.

Hannah lost focus for just a second and let her eyes flick down to see him touching his crotch. A moment later, she looked back up at Taylor, whose look of pure lust was joined by his warm, charming grin. Hannah laughed and stopped dancing. She knew she'd lost at her own game.

Rushing to join her in the middle of the room, Taylor practically jumped over the coffee table. He knelt in front of her spread legs and finished opening the last two buttons of her blouse; he was so tall, Hannah could feel his breath on her stomach.

He didn't hesitate when the blouse was open, but immediately began working on her black leather belt.

"Tay, we can't touch each other!" Hannah protested.

"Don't worry," Taylor reassured her. "It's just clothes. Trust me."

When she nodded, Taylor pulled the belt open. His fingers slid inside the waist of her jeans, between denim and satin, and worked open her fly with speed and delicacy.

His hands gripped her waist and paused. Taylor looked up into her eyes again.

Hannah nodded, closed her eyes, and looped the waistband of her panties around her fingers to hold them in place. Taylor yanked her jeans down around her knees.

Now the only thing between her naked body and her ex-lover were a satin blue bra and a pair of matching thong panties.

Taylor smiled, and breathed in the sweet scent of her body spray. His lips were a hair's breadth from her thigh. "I could kneel here all night. You're enchanting." She could feel his words on her skin.

At last, he helped her out of the jeans and blouse, and she did a slow turn in front of him.

"Rules, right?"

"Rules."

Hannah crossed her arms over her head and stood with her weight on one leg. She let him take her in. This was as far as they'd agreed to go: no nudity, no touching, and no sex. Only teasing and playing. Then they'd get off, watching each other.

"Okay," she said, "Shower's this way."

* * *

She couldn't see Taylor through the frosted door of her small apartment shower, but when she passed her bra and panties over the top, his hand popped up to relieve her of them.

The water pipes groaned, and before she leapt out of the way, frigid water had blasted her torso. Goosebumps sprang up, and her nipples crinkled instantly. Hannah cursed—loudly—and pushed her body flat against the glass, trying to dodge the spray.

Taylor hooted.

"Fuck! This water is

fucking

freezing!" Hannah found herself unable to resist the urge to jump in place. When Taylor, in the peanut gallery, shouted his hearty approval, she rolled her eyes and laughed it off.

After a seeming eternity, the water temperature rose and steam started to fill the room.

Hannah ducked beneath the spray and wetted her hair down, still unused to how short it was. By habit, she once again squeezed more shampoo into her hand than she needed. A cascade of lather swept down her body and down the drain. Ah, well.

She pushed her left forearm up against the shower door.

"Nice."

"Yeah?"

"I can just barely see you."

Turning to rinse out the crack of her ass, she lifted her right calf up against the door. Then she leaned in. Taylor would be able to see her bare leg from hip to ankle.

"Very nice."

She pulled back, working sore muscles and washing off all the grime of a day's travel.

"Come on," said Taylor.

He didn't deserve an answer. Hannah turned and leaned up against the back wall of the shower, watching Taylor's figure flit across fly-eyed hexagons in the shower door. She arched her back and slid her middle finger down along her slit, wondering if Taylor could tell she was fingering herself. She almost hoped he would call her out.

A light thrill went through her, and her eyes drifted shut.

Taylor's voice broke her accidental reverie.

"So, hey..." he said. "I have a couple ideas."

* * *

Hannah disappeared into the bedroom for a few minutes. When she called Taylor, he opened her door to find her lying on white sheets, wrapped again in the wide burgundy bath towel, with her arms resting on the pillows behind her. Gentle music was playing from some portable speakers on the nightstand, and Taylor's SLR was set up on the dresser, pointed directly at the bed.

It was recording video of everything they did.

Taylor hadn't discussed the idea with Ben; the video was supposed to remain secret. But if Ben got jealous, Hannah would at least be able to demonstrate in some way that she and Taylor had stuck to the rules.

Or perhaps more to the point...Ben definitely did

not

need to know how much being photographed turned her on.

After checking how Hannah had framed the shot of herself on the bed, he turned and asked, "Where are they?"

She nodded over toward the nightstand. Resting beside a bottle of lotion was a pair of silver handcuffs.

Taylor picked them up, conscious that he had entered the frame, and wrapped them through her iron lattice headboard.

Hannah surrendered her wrists.

The cuffs clicked into place, locking her into position. She rolled her arms, testing the tightness, then nodded.

Taylor pulled off his shirt without unbuttoning it and tossed it away.

"Slower," said Hannah.

He paused, already going for his belt. "Okay," he replied. He turned toward her and leaned against the bed. A silver pendant on a black cord hung down from his neck, over her body. "Let's take it slow."

Then Taylor untucked the towel from itself and hitched up its bottom edge over her thighs until he could see her sapphire satin panties. He pressed his palm on her knee. "Spread your legs."

Hannah shook her shoulders, playfully resisting. "Huh-uh."

"By the way, do we need a safe word or something? I've never tried handcuffs."

"Okay." She smiled. "The safe word is 'no.' Ask nicely."

Taylor removed his hand and kissed the same knee. Then she bent her leg and offered him the top of her foot, and he kissed it too. She moved and straightened it, opening her legs on the bed. Taylor unbuckled his belt and turned to face the camera.

In the mirror, he saw her admiring his body. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down.

She caught his eye in the reflection. "You've been working out."

"Clean living," said Taylor. He left his boxers on, turned and climbed onto the bed between Hannah's calves. She'd arched one foot and was idly curling her toes. She stopped, put her foot on his thigh and stroked his muscles.

"I still think about one of the first times we met. That time Steve brought you camping with Jake and me."

"Oh god—I haven't thought about that in

forever

. Believe it or not, I felt really shy around you guys. I mean, look what I did to impress you."

"I'm

still

impressed." Taylor massaged her foot, admiring the shapely athleticism of her legs. "Look, I don't think I ever told you how much it means to me that we're still friends. Even though it didn't work out between us."

"Me too. Plus the benefits."

"Plus the benefits." Taylor loomed over her, taking hold of the headboard railing. Then he leaned down to face her. She licked her lips. They kissed.

He knelt back and opened the towel, draping it across the turned down duvet. Hannah lay before him in the satin bra and thong, cuffed to the bed. He rubbed his crotch with his palm through the material of his boxers.

Hannah was one of the most beautiful women, inside and out, who had ever taken him to bed. She was sharp; she had a free spirit and an artistic temperament. But he'd seen how people underestimated her: she was short, she had wavy, sandy blonde hair, and she was athletic and attractive with toned muscles, distractingly pert breasts and a cute butt. She often tried to dress down, but despite herself, she enjoyed being admired physically.

Now those breasts were held snug in place by the bra, forming beautiful cleavage.

"Goregous," he said. Then he reached beneath her back and felt the clasp of the bra, toying with it in his fingers.

"You know we can't."

"I won't take it off, just undo the snap." Taylor mustered his most innocent, mischievous smile and opened it.

(

That's exactly what Ben said,

Hannah thought.

I swear, men want to have these rules just so they can break something.

)

Her breasts fell to the side as the straps and side panels went slack. Hannah arched her back for a moment, repositioning herself comfortably. The little bow in the center of her bra hung over her solar plexus, leaving a small gap between the undersides of her breasts.