Whither Away

Self-deception is the easiest kind.

All done now

, I think to myself, as I hang up the phone in my hotel room for the last time. The airline confirmed my reservation for an early departure, and I have a taxi on its way. My bags are packed and waiting. I've already settled my bill with the hotel, although, theoretically, I would continue to occupy the room for the remainder of the week. Call it a parting gift. This wasn't the way I expected the trip to end.

We had both been to Hawaii before, on business, but never together. It was to be a celebration, an anniversary of sorts, and a new beginning. Mary and I began dating two years ago, a few months after my wife of twenty-two years decided she had extracted everything she needed from our marriage, and successfully sued for divorce.

Coincidently, at about the time I became single, Mary's husband, who was into outdoor sports, undertook an outing in the Rockies, involving extreme skiing. It seems that, on his way downhill, he tried unsuccessfully to pass through a space already occupied by a large boulder. The search party took a week to find his frozen body. His penchant for risk made Mary a beautiful widow at the ripe old age of thirty-six.

We worked at the same company, Mary and I, in the same department, even, but we didn't interact a lot. Business didn't require it, and up until the changes, we were both too involved in our own existing relationships to be interested in creating new ones. We did have friends in common, though, and almost immediately they began trying to bring us together.

We both resisted. We were still in mourning, not ready for anything new, and even ignoring that, we were aware of company policies discouraging fraternization. It took the combined creative efforts of all of our friends, as well as a good deal of simple coincidence, to finally bring us together.

So it was that, two years ago yesterday, we met in a restaurant, each in the company of another couple with whom we had been long-time, mutual friends. Those good friends hadn't planned the meeting, but weren't above taking advantage of the situation, thus we found ourselves sharing one end of the same booth.

Dinner and the companionship were wonderful, and went on late into the evening. Our friends eventually begged off further "fraternization," and suggested that since I had driven in separately, and Mary and I seemed inclined to continue our conversation, I should give her a lift home. That seemed like a good idea, so we agreed.

We talked long into the night, leaving only when the staff began turning chairs up on the tables around us. Finally getting the message that it was time to leave, I stood and offered her my hand. Hesitantly, she accepted it, and stood with me momentarily, as we each pondered the color of the other's eyes. Calling for the check, I was surprised to learn that the bill had already been taken care of, so I left a generous tip, and we departed.

No, we didn't go to my apartment, and no, we didn't fall into bed at her house. She didn't even invite me inside, and I didn't expect it. We did share a nice first kiss (lips only!), though, and we agreed that we had a lot in common, and that we would enjoy spending more time together. I got her telephone number and promised to call in a few days.

I didn't sleep well that night, my mind was racing. I hadn't felt ready to begin all over again, playing the dating game, maybe falling in love, courting, but Mary touched something deep within me. Not just in a sexual way, although I did find her to be extremely attractive, but on a more emotional level as well. By morning, I knew I couldn't wait anymore, so when I heard the alarm (I was already awake and pacing the floor) I called her immediately.

"Hello?" she answered, with an audible yawn.

"Hi," I said. "It's Jim. I hope you don't mind that I called so early..."

"No, no," she replied sleepily. " It's all right. I wasn't actually asleep anyway. I couldn't seem to drop off last night."

"I have the same problem," I responded. "My mind was in a whirl all night long, and I think it's your fault."

"My fault?" she exclaimed. "How is it my fault?"

"For being so beautiful, intelligent, and sweet," I stated firmly. "I couldn't sleep all night for thinking about you. I need to see you again. Have lunch with me?"

"Um... I guess so," she agreed. "Where will we go? We don't want anyone at work to get ideas..." At that response, I knew I was headed in the right direction.

"I'll find something," I said. "Don't worry about anything, it's just lunch and talk, for the moment."

"For the moment? Sounds like you might have long-term plans..." she teased.

"Just fantasies and hopes," I protested. "I'll call your desk at lunch, and we'll arrange where to meet. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. "Jim," she added, hesitantly, "I really don't know you very well, but I already like you a lot. Just the same, let's not rush this, okay?"

"Believe me," I said. " I feel the same way about you, and I also feel the need to proceed slowly. It's just lunch, I promise."

Reassured, she agreed, and we broke the connection.

The morning dragged on, until time came to make good on my pledge. It was almost as difficult to pick up the phone and dial her extension as it would have been to invite her to a motel room, but I managed. I suggested that we meet at my car, but she demurred, on grounds that we might be observed. After a short discussion, we agreed to meet at her home, a little later than we usually took our lunch hour, to avoid unwanted attention.

Knowing that I would be unable to concentrate on my work afterward, I signed out for the afternoon, figuring to spend the time after lunch working on my sailboat. Leaving work behind for the day, I killed a little time shopping, and arrived at her house at the appointed time.

She met me at the door, looking as radiant as I remembered her from the previous night. She smiled nervously, and invited me in.

I had reservations at a nice seaside restaurant, but we never got to use them. As soon as the door closed, she moved into my arms. With both hands, she pulled me to her lips, and we began to kiss. My hands automatically began to caress her, from her shoulders to her buttocks, as she ground her pelvis against me. It wasn't possible that she could miss the pressure of my hardness against her belly.

In one sense, the kiss seemed to last forever, in another, it was over in an instant. When we broke apart, we were out of breath, but unwilling to end what we had started. So much for going slow. She took my hand, wordlessly led me to her bedroom, and turned to face me with tears falling from her eyes.

As she looked at me, pleading silently for me to take the lead, I tenderly took her into my arms again, and kissed her thoroughly. When we broke that second kiss, I began slowly, deliberately, undressing her, kissing each patch of perfect, delicate skin as it was exposed. Her body shook with anticipation.

When I finished, and she stood before me in her naked glory, I stepped back. She was surprised, I suppose, that I didn't just strip, throw her on the bed, and ravish her. I wanted to, but instead, with a gesture, I indicated that she should undress me. It was her choice, and not an obligation. For us to go any further down this road, she had to take positive action, at least the action required to get me undressed.

Understanding showed in her eyes, and almost immediately turned to gratitude. She moved quickly to disrobe me, and then pulled me toward the bed. Once there, we joined in passionate embrace, and lost count of the number of orgasms we gave to one another.

Exhausted, near the end of the scheduled lunch hour, she realized that she'd be late getting back, so she called in and took the afternoon off. We never left her house that day. In fact, I stayed the night. We subsequently began seeing each other regularly and exclusively, and we enjoyed each other immensely, both in and out of bed.

Three months after our first dinner together, she put her house up for rent and moved into my apartment. The arrangement worked well for us, and after much discussion, we decided to make it permanent and legal. We would be married.

The decision created certain problems, not the least of which was that it could get us fired if anyone else in our company found out, and it would be difficult to conceal from the Human Resources people. After careful examination of the options we decided that I would leave the company. The decision was a sound one, based on the facts that, at that particular point, she had the higher salary, and I had the greater marketability.

It took hardly any time for me to succumb to the advances of a new employer, probably because their offer was simply irresistible. Higher salary, better benefits, and a "golden parachute" as insurance against the potential for a major falling-out in the future. Yes, I was easy. My resistance crumbled, and I turned in my notice the next day.

I didn't really expect to work out my notice. I had observed that, in the past, our management demonstrated an instant, almost psychotic distrust of any employee who gave notice. I wasn't disappointed.

Predictably, my boss attempted to change my mind, upon hearing my announcement, but he couldn't match the offer I'd gotten. That was a good thing, because then I didn't have to make up excuses about why I needed to leave. Admitting my relationship with Mary would have killed her career. When my boss realized he was getting nowhere, his entire tone changed, as I expected. I was told to clean out my desk (under the observation of a trusted employee, of course), then I was handed an envelope containing my termination paperwork, and escorted off the premises.

Everything had worked out rather well. The termination package was generous, if grudgingly given, and I conveniently had a month off before I was expected to report to my new job. Mary and I tied up a number of loose ends the first couple of weeks, and she put in for a week's vacation. We planned to fly to Hawaii, marry, and honeymoon there, then return home. I would even have a couple of days to get ready, before reporting to my new job.

After an arduous flight (it's a long way from the east coast to Hawaii!) we arrived at our hotel in Waikiki, dead tired. We had barely enough energy for a short cuddle before passing out from exhaustion. We got up the next morning (yesterday) refreshed, and made sweet, happy love. We had a light breakfast, and walked in the surf. We talked about how wonderful it felt to be together, away from the crush of business. We talked about our future together.

We made it all the way through lunch before things began to fall apart. We were shopping at one of the outdoor markets when Mary spotted a familiar face. It was one that I recognized, too.

Michael Kellaton was a VP in the company I had just left, and for which Mary still worked. Well out of my social stratum, he was someone I knew of, but didn't know personally. I discovered, to my chagrin, that the same was not true of Mary. Before I could react, she waved at him to come join us. While he made his way over, she gave me some of the background on their relationship.

Mike, it seems, was a widower, and he and his late wife had been "couples friends" with Mary and her husband for many years. He had, in fact, been responsible for Mary having her job at the company. Mike's wife was fatally injured in an automobile wreck, almost a year before Mary's husband met his untimely end, and for the sake of their friendship, the couple went to great lengths to provide the emotional support to the grieving older man. That was as much of the story as she would tell, as he joined us only a moment later.

Mike was a likeable man, and he didn't recognize me (no surprise there!) so I felt there was little danger in our meeting, but I really didn't want anything distracting Mary and I from each other. Much to my irritation, however, he had no particular plans, and didn't mind at all spending the entire afternoon with us. It was a long afternoon, and before we parted company, he offered to buy us dinner. Mary accepted before I could object, and we returned to our room to change. I was not happy.

On reaching our room I asked for an explanation, but she went immediately on the defensive. I could sense that there was more to the situation than met the eye, but she would say no more. Inexplicably, she insisted that I dress first, and then asked me to let her dress in private. Mystified, I complied, and when she appeared again, she looked like a million dollars. I wanted to cancel our dinner plans and spend the time alone with her, but she wouldn't hear of it.

"We accepted his invitation, and now we are obligated to meet with him," she explained stiffly.

Unaccustomed to this kind of behavior from her, I silently acquiesced. We met our host in the lobby, and found that he had arranged for a limousine to provide transportation to a very high-end restaurant. The meal was excellent, if somewhat subdued. I couldn't help noticing that Mike's gaze lingered on Mary long and frequently. Mary, for her part, was gorgeous, demure, and much quieter than usual. There was a dance floor, and Mike and I both had a few dances with her. Eventually the outing ended, and we again climbed into the limousine.

As we arrived at the hotel, Mike suggested drinks in the hotel's lounge before turning in. I started to refuse, but again Mary beat me to the punch, accepting on our behalf. We got a nice table near the glass wall overlooking the part of the hotel grounds, which abutted the beach. The view was almost park like in the fading light, and the sound of the waves breaking came faintly through the glass. We each had several drinks on Mike's tab, and by the last drink, his glances at Mary had become an almost constant stare. Conversation had pretty much died.

Swallowing the last of his drink, he stood and walked over to the glass, and stood staring out to sea. One of the glass panels was actually a sliding door, so he pushed it open, and walked across the lawn to the edge of the beach.

Being ready to leave, I reached for Mary's hand, intending to tug her to her feet and lead her to our room. She pulled away, saying "We can't leave him here like that. It's rude!"

Fool that I am, I gave in. Shortly after, Mike returned to the lounge and stood just inside the door, openly staring at Mary. I also looked at her, trying to understand what was happening. Her breathing became labored and her pupils dilated as she returned Mike's gaze, and her expression changed to near panic when in slow turn, she looked at me.

After some time, he simply held out his hand. She looked at me once more before leaving her chair and walking over to him. As she joined him, he took her by the elbow and guided her out into the night. As they passed beyond the edge of the glass wall, I thought I saw her look back, briefly.

I sat there, for maybe another hour, before I admitted to myself that they weren't coming back to the lounge. I returned to our room, undressed, and fell asleep, crying. When I awoke this morning, she was still missing. This was to have been our wedding day.

I called the front desk and asked to be connected to Mike's room. She answered the phone, and on hearing her voice, I hung up. I left her return ticket on the dresser, along with my room key.

My cab is here now. They have what they want; now I need to find what I want. There is someone out there for me. As the hotel diminishes behind me, I think about the past two years I've wasted. It finally hits me that not once, in that entire time, did she ever say

I love you!