The Wrong Man

49

I would imagine that Tori had a nice apartment, if I saw much of it. We barely made it through the door before we were undressing each other. I’d spent many hours dreaming of unbuttoning that long white coat and running my hands inside it. Many hours imagining her naked except for those black knee-high boots, but she kicked them off as we stumbled backward together.

I went first. I like foreplay. I liked watching her become more aroused as we progressed. I liked lying next to her on the bed, not letting her touch me, as my hands ran over her body. I liked caressing the inside of her legs as she moaned with expectation, almost tickling her, before my fingers slid inside her. I liked watching her free herself, unleash something primitive from within, break down that facade she always kept up. I liked watching her blush and bite her lower lip and squeeze her eyes shut. I liked that she gripped my hair tightly as I removed my fingers and replaced them with my tongue.

She was so light. She had such a petite but firm body. I lifted her up and onto me and our eyes met, wide open, gazing into each other, for just a moment before she closed them again. She ran her hands down my back as we bobbed up and down. Her breath came in halted gasps, high-pitched, resembling sobs in some way. I’m usually pretty quiet, but I found myself grunting, and I knew this wasn’t going to last long.

It didn’t. But it was worth it.

She climbed off me and fell onto the bed. I did the same. She opened her eyes now and watched me, like she was observing me in some clinical fashion, trying to discern what or whom I was. Or maybe, I thought, she was wondering about herself.

And then her eyes welled up with tears. She silently fought them back and broke eye contact with me. After a moment she brushed the back of her hand over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“That’s okay. A lot of women cry after they sleep with me.”

She allowed herself to laugh, and then a tear escaped and rode down her nose.

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal,” I assured her. “I’m not proposing marriage.”

She offered a smile that evaporated almost immediately. She didn’t know how to handle this, or me, or something.

“Okay,” she said quietly.