Routine became my only asylum. Anything to distract my mind from thoughts, impulses, emotions...and the increasingly disruptive, intrusive thoughts of him. Work, tv, reading, working out at the gym, chatting with my roommate. Saturday nights. My neighbor had become a regular fixture in my apartment, perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter, sitting on the couch, lounging on the balcony. My roommate had accepted him as a new pet, fawning over him, but respecting the boundaries that marked him as mine.
The frequent and mundane nature of our weekday encounters did nothing to diminish the anticipation of Saturday. Sudden erotic flashes tortured me when I was out shopping, or working, or eating. A lopsided grin, a suggestive piece of fruit, a friendly touch on the shoulder and my nipples would be erect, my pussy leaking. Great effort and copious masturbation was required to pull my mind back to the present.
Saturday night had fallen and he was not here. Anger and logic warred within me, but despite appearances, I had no claim on him. His cousin had needed a wingman and he'd practically disappeared from the social scene. People would talk if he didn't make an appearance, especially after his silence in Phoenix. I had told him to enjoy himself, that I was glad he was going out.
My roommate had tiptoed around me that evening, sensing the volcano seething beneath my surface.
"Would drinking fix whatever the hell this is?" My stillness offended her, my dark expression even more.
"Probably," my lip curled in a sneer, every word dripping with self-loathing. "But I'd rather be miserable tonight."
She dipped her head at me, told me to text her if I changed my mind. In an uncharacteristic attempt to cheer me up, she even removed a wayward negligee from the living room floor before she sashayed from the apartment.
Netflix failed to distract me and reading just allowed my mind to wander to questions of him thigh to thigh with some faceless woman in a bar. The drawer with the purple dildo and its vibrating companion beckoned, but faced with cold silicon, my anger doubled. The lab might hold refuge and likely wouldn't be empty even on a Saturday night, but I couldn't find the motivation to put on appropriate clothing.
Long flannel pajama bottoms and a black tank saw me out the door and walking down the street. Two blocks brought me to a large chain bookstore, cold and soulless, a haven of impersonal rows for wandering. Growing up, my companions were fantasies and futures from the minds of my favorite authors. Peaceful reading eluded me, but the smell of paper, the shine off pristine covers calmed me.
Fingers brushing from volume to volume, I felt connected, even if the titles remained unseen. Fluorescent lights chased away the shadows, their faint buzz soothing. Wandering aimlessly had taken me to a remote corner of the bookstore, new territory where a sign proclaimed "Adult." Browsing the titles and covers sent a flush across my face; my mind afire with sensual embraces, implied unions, and scanty clothing. I grabbed two volumes off the shelf, judged solely by their covers. During the walk home, my mind fabricated fantasies for the entangled models gracing them.
Between the pages of the smutty novels were the romances for which I yearned. Will they, won't they, the underdog gets the man. The women were a mess, the love interests oblivious, the villains manipulative assholes, the writing gritty.
I remained lonely and frustrated, but no longer alone. Eduardo and Tina finally stole away amid the villa filled with her aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, neighbor's cats, and of course her arch nemesis, the beautiful heiress Antonia. As he lay her down in the hidden garden behind the duck pond, his fingers entering the fiery heart between her legs, my own fingers eased beneath the elastic of my panties.
Tina and I came together several times throughout the night, although mine was not the touch I craved. At some point I drifted from wakefulness into feverish dreams; I found my own fingers or Eduardo's dark cock spreading and entering me.Each stroke built cresting waves of euphoria, calming and diffusing the waves of resentment and anger churning like tar in the emptiness he left behind.
***
Days bled together until it was again Saturday, the last grays of twilight fading to blackness. A favorite novel rested on my knee, dog eared from repeated readings over the years. I flipped through the pages, unsure if I'd already read them or not. Fuzzy snippets of conversation ran through my head, unwelcome practice for confrontations I had no intention of having.
A knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Novel dropping to the floor, forgotten, I rose to answer the door. His typical buoyant enthusiasm melted as he examined me. The color of my face, my posture, the red rims of my eyes added to the instant concern on his face.
How did I get into his arms? The door was closed, his nose in my hair, my head against his shoulder, but I didn't remember moving toward him.
His voice was a gentle balm against my restless mind, but his words did not settle me. "You're mad at me for last week aren't you?"
I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say no. Only a strangled sob came out. His body swayed with mine; he stroked my hair as I reminded myself that he was here now. I had told him to go out last week, practically pushed him out of his apartment.
Closing my eyes, I took a moment to pull myself together. Commitment was not what I wanted from him, no matter what the little voice at the back of my head was screaming at him, at me. Why could I feel such betrayal at him not being here, but not feel the love I thirsted for?
Tears subsiding, I smiled up at him.
"Welcome back," he said, leading me to the couch.
"I missed you last week." Brief hesitation, my eyes darted away as I deflected from the scene I had just made. "I wonder what's in store for us tonight."
"Hey." He sat next to me on the couch, hands covering mine, refusing to let me bury my thoughts. "I enjoyed hanging with my cousin. It's been a long time since he was in the city. The girl he introduced me to was nice. Pretty. But you know where I really wanted to be."
"I do know." A sigh escaped from deep in my chest as I relaxed back into the couch cushions. "I'm not sure why I'm reacting like this. I don't own you. I want you to go out and be social."
"I get it," he said. "Life happens. We're not dating." His brow furrowed with tension, conflicting emotions flitting across his normally stoic face, but his eyes held a quiet light.
"It's like I'm finally waking up from a decade treading in mud because I didn't realize it was ok to walk on the grass." Turning away, my knees met my chest, curling into the ball that let me hide from inconvenient truths. "Someone guided me out of the mud and now that my feet are finally on solid ground I can feel how amazing my body is. I think I panicked a little when my guide went to visit other people walking on the grass."
"You have other friends. I know I've been monopolizing you." His solid presence at my back grounded me in the moment.
"Saturday night is not a monopoly. And I want this," I told him. "Not just you, but to be comfortable on the grass with the people I meet."
"Am I forgiven for last weekend?" he asked.
"There is nothing to forgive. And I've got this. Go get the game." Stretching my arms wide, I uncurled my legs, taking up my rightful space on the couch.
He handed me the dice, and I rolled. It must have been my lucky night because I immediately landed on a card spot.
"Not fair!" His eyes widened in mock disbelief and he crossed his arms with a playful sigh. "I didn't even get a roll."
"Here, you roll the dice while I read this card." A smirk colored my voice.
He shook his head and placed the dice back into the box as I held up the card.
