Perhaps the hardest thing to do is to move on even
when you know you should. It didn't matter that the
love of my life walked out on me two weeks ago for
another woman. I wanted to see him. He was all I thought
about, and the more I thought of him the less I blamed
him for his affairs. Jarrett was a son of a bitch.
I knew that. Any woman with a shred of dignity would
have burnt the sheets he laid on and torched the memories
of him as soon as possible.
I, however, was longing. And, the excuse I gave
myself to call him to me again sat at the back of
my closet: a box he left behind that was filled with
old papers. My stomach fluttered and cringed at the
same time knowing in just a matter of minutes, he
would come for it.
I reasoned to myself that seeing him again would
be my revenge. Yes. If he ever thought for one minute
that his leaving had destroyed me, it was one minute
too long. My life had been peaceful since he left.
Lord knew I didn't miss the late night calls from
one woman or another for him. Or, the hurried excuses
he made after he hung up the phone about a friend
needing his help.
I never considered myself a stupid woman. Yet, I
tried to ignore it all in the name of love, even when
the evidence of his infidelities wafted into the room
with him at dawn. From Eternity to Obsession to cheap
bargain brands, he flaunted the scents of betrayal
under my nose like happy meals. They fed his immaturity,
but I got sick just at the thought of yet another
one.
I smoothed the short, brown dress over my hips and
modeled for the mirror. Low cut and tight, it hugged
the curves and revealed the peaks. It was as sexy
as foreplay and just as alluring.
The look wasn't my usual one; I preferred jeans
and sweatshirts any day. But, with a new haircut,
color, and a lot of deep breaths, I was feeling the
part of the desirous, beautiful woman he left behind.
I wasn't at all the dull, lifeless bore he blamed
for his affairs. Not tonight, that was for sure.
The unmistakable sound of his car's rusty tailpipes
gurgling down my drive made my stomach flutter. Only
doors and windows separated us at that moment. It
was as close as I'd been to him since the day he left.
I swallowed the nausea rising in my throat at just
the thought of the asshole. It was a sickening feeling,
indeed, to hate the man so much, but to crave the
sensations he left behind. The feel of his hairy legs
brushing against mine when we made love, the heat
of his breath when he kissed my skin, even the annoying
habit he had of crying after sex - I was stupid for
missing what he gave freely to anyone, but I couldn't
get any of it out of my mind.
I stood at the front door and watched his lanky
figure saunter up the walk. He expected for me to
have the box ready for him to grab. What a dreamer!
The guy was in a hurry, but I wasn't in the mood to
be accommodating. There was a woman waiting for him
somewhere. Still nervous that he would stray like
he had been when he met her, she would expect him
back fairly soon.
He would come straight home too. Oh yes, it was
how he operated. In the beginning, Jarrett would adhere
to her every wish just like he had with me. I wasn't
going to make it easy on him tonight, however. The
box he came to get was tossed in the back of my closet,
barricaded behind piles of my own crates and plastic
totes. It was evil of me to do such a thing, but if
he thought making a fool out of me was so easy to
do, he was wrong.
"Macy." He said my name as if it were a statement
rather than a greeting. Jarrett shifted from one foot
to the other, standing on the sidewalk in front of
my house. He seemed afraid to walk any closer. Who
could blame him? I was never one to throw things,
but the day he left I hurled his luggage behind him
as he ran to his car. Never mind it was the vehicle
I bought for him.
"Jarrett," I replied, returning the coldness. "How've
you been?"
He stepped onto the porch. Under the dim light,
he let his eyes roam over me and take in the sight
of his new and improved ex-girlfriend. "Wow!" His
jaw dropped open. How could it not? Standing before
him was the sexy woman who took him in two years ago.
She was the one with money who eagerly supported his
'art' and 'culture' in exchange for his love. The
revived image took him by surprise. "You look really
good, Macy. I hardly recognized you." Jarrett stuffed
his hands inside his jeans, shifting from one foot
to the other again.
A smile tugged on the corners of my mouth. "My finances
have been relieved of a huge strain, so I've been
able to spend money on more important things. How
about you? You look like you've lost some weight.
Being well taken care of?"
"Meredith says I need to work out so maybe that's
helped some pounds come off. She likes a toned man,
so I do it for her," he replied, hanging his head
down.
He had made no secret when he left that it was to
be with her. It wasn't a shock really. I remembered
her voice and the Obsession perfume she wore. She
had been the one he went to almost every night of
the last few months he lived with me.
Meredith was just his type, though. She was wealthy,
from what I understood, and liked her men as she did
her jewelry: plentiful and handsome. Jarrett was probably
her pick of the litter for now. That would change.
If the rumors were correct about her, he would soon
be the one standing in my shoes. Maybe he finally
met his match.
"Do you have that box you called about?" he asked,
once again letting his eyes wander over my body. "I've
really got to be going. I'm kinda in a hurry."
"Short leash, huh?" I couldn't resist the jab. Every
time I tried to keep Jarrett home, he only went out
more. "But, sure, come on in. It's in the bedroom."
I stifled a burst of laughter as he followed me
back the hallway. His eyes hadn't left me since the
moment he showed up. He played it off by looking anywhere
but at me when he spoke, yet the second he thought
I wasn't looking at him, he was staring again. Nobody
had ever accused him of being smooth. I felt his gaze
on me at that second, searing every inch of my backside
as I walked.
"It's back behind all of my things," I told him,
sliding open the closet door. "You can just pull all
of that crap out and get it." Stepping away, I motioned
to the organized mess stacked inside. It would take
him at least an hour to get to his box.
Jarrett stood in front of me. His eyes shifted from
my face down to my cleavage that the dress pushed
up and out. "I don't want to mess up your things,
Macy. I know how picky you are, so just get it for
me and I'll be on my way."
"Picky?" I laughed in disbelief. "I'm picky? I believe
I let you do whatever the hell you wanted for two
years. Do you call that picky?"
"Geez, Macy! I really don't want to argue about
this now. Do you? Like I said, I'm not going through
your stuff, so if you want me to take the box, get
it for me. Otherwise, I'm leaving."
Meredith had apparently carved a backbone for her
boy-toy. I was more than ready to stand there and
argue with him, but I wanted him to feel as unwanted
as he made me. "Whatever. As long as you get out of
here soon." Shrugging my shoulders, I turned away
from him. "I never could get you to do anything but
cheat anyway."
"Don't be like that, Macy," he said. His voice filled
with tension as I bent over to start removing crates.
"It wasn't like that the whole time and you know it.
We had good times, didn't we?" Being near me was killing
him. His tone revealed it as much as the twinkle in
his eyes did. "I never heard you complain about what
I did do for you. You never went unsatisfied."
God, he was an asshole, yet I could feel the desire
welling up inside me. On many nights since he moved
out, I dreamt of him in my bed, loving me the way
he used to. Jarrett didn't have much to give a woman
in the way of providing for her, but he knew how to
make her a queen in the sack. I cursed myself for
not hating him as much as I should. I cursed myself
for wanting him knowing damned well what a louse he
was.
"Macy." This time he said my name softly. His warm
hands grasped my hips, pulling me back to him. He
dangled sex in front of me like the sweetest piece
of candy, pressing his hard crotch into the small
of my back. Damn him for knowing what he was good
at and for knowing that I still wanted it. "Don't
worry about the box right now. I can come back for
it some other time."
I let out a sigh. "I really don't want you coming
back again," I replied. "The whole reason I called
you over here was so I can move on with my life."
"Why? Are you seeing someone else? I want you to
be happy, you know. I never meant to hurt you."
He brushed my light brown hair to one side, then
glided his lips across the back of my neck. "No. Stop."
I wanted to pull away from him. My skin puckered with
goose bumps. Beneath the surface, lust spread like
wildfire.
"Macy," he whispered, fidgeting with the zipper
on the back of my dress. "Damn, I've missed you, baby."
I froze in place, unable to speak or move. My mind
screamed for him to stop, but down lower, the ache
to let him continue won out. "Jarrett," I whispered,
turning to face him.
Before he could speak, I pressed my lips to his,
letting the passion inside me explode on the tip of
my tongue and meld with his. He was my disease. The
symptoms had been gone too long. It was a flare up
and I burned with fever.
His body pressed to mine; his hands on my back pulled
me closer to him. How dare he want me like this? I
felt his urgent throb against my belly. What kind
of woman was I to desire him after what all he did?
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I ripped open his
shirt. I hated him for the cheat he was, but I longed
for him too. All those women and all those lies when
he was supposed to be mine flashed through my thoughts.
My dress loosened under his fingertips and slid
away from my shoulders. His hands replaced the fabric,
caressing my arms then moving to my chest. The cool
air in the room swirled around my breasts as my bra
fell away. Our eyes locked, speaking a silent language.
'Should we' darkened the hues; the answer of 'Oh God,
yes' sparked flames.
My thoughts melted into white chocolate between
my legs. Desire was a whirlwind-like sensation as
we ripped away the last shreds of clothing that separated
us and tumbled onto the bed. His skin pressed against
mine, and like the ground naturally absorbs the rain,
I took him inside me.
His cock filled me with wholeness. When he withdrew,
he took part of me with him and I waited, breathless,
for the moment he completed me again. Jarrett knew
how to make me sing. He remembered so well how to
make me cry.
I rocked beneath him, holding on to his shoulders.
In slow strokes, we ascended above the mind's plane,
savoring the turbulence, and praising the feel of
weightlessness as we made love. His cock was the pilot,
guiding me along with sweet sensations that left me
trembling. I licked droplets of lust from his tongue.
With my sex, I painted my hunger on his shaft.
Jarrett pumped into me, grinding his need in my
release as I cried for more. He knew how to stroke,
at what angles to slide his cock inside me to make
me scream. Up, down, left, right. Oh my God, he remembered
exactly when to ram it in, then when to bury it in
my depths. I held my breath, catching a quiver of
pleasure on my lips. Bringing his mouth to mine, I
breathed my sugary release into his being.
His resolve toppled headlong into an orgasm, spilling
rivers inside my banks. We held onto each other while
he fed me. Our moans entwined and embraced as we spiraled
back to reality. I wrapped him in my arms, feeling
the sweat on his skin mix with mine. It was either
a dream or a flashback of a nightmare. I wasn't sure
which.
Jarrett snuggled in between my breasts. His arms
trembled. I could feel the warmth of tears sliding
onto my skin. "I want to come home," he whispered.
"Please let me."
My mind was still hazed over from the power of our
coupling, but his words shocked me all the same. Did
he think I forgot his affairs? Or, that I had just
become one of them? Could he expect forgiveness because
he was in my bed again? No, he was misleading himself
if he did. Tonight wasn't going to be a reunion. It
slapped me in the face like a splash of cold water.
I didn't want him anymore.
"You can't come back here," I replied, stroking
my fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, but you just
can't."
"But I love you." He traced hearts on my arm with
a finger. Romeo and Don Juan mixed all in one, he
had his game down to a tee.
"What about Meredith? You live with her now." How
often had he forgotten me when he had been with other
women? I hugged him close, wishing I could squeeze
away the questions in my mind. I loved him more than
life itself at one point in time. Didn't he know that?
Damn him. If only I could make believe nothing yet
everything had changed. The wet heat between my legs
begged me to give in and let him stay.
"She promised me an art gallery of my own as long
as I stay with her."
Hearing about her while he was in my arms was all
the motivation I needed to pull away from him once
and for all. He was a sick bastard. I nudged him away
from me and climbed out of bed. "That's always been
your dream." Gathering his clothes off the floor,
I tossed them at him. "You'd best get home to it."
"Just let me stay the night. I know I have to go
back to her. But, you make me feel safe, Macy." He
followed me to the floor, trying to take me in his
arms. "I feel at home with you."
I stepped away. "I've always taken care of you.
That's why. I've treated you like a helpless child.
But you can't stay here anymore. I don't want you
here. You need to go."
"But I miss you. Will you call me sometime? Invite
me over for dinner or something? Call the house. If
Meredith answers, just ask for me. She won't care.
I promise."
"Just like I didn't care?" I already knew the sound
of Meredith's voice and the scent of her skin. She
spoke softly; she wore Obsession. "You know your way
out," I said. "Lock the door behind you. I suddenly
feel dirty and need a shower."
I hesitated for a moment, taking one hard, last
look at him. He wasn't really good looking anymore,
now that I knew him so well. It made me cringe to
think how foolish I had been. No more, though. On
the way to the bathroom, I grabbed the bottle containing
the same perfume I wore on my skin and tossed it into
the trash. I wasn't going to be Longing.
Bio
Tina Hess' work has appeared in numerous ezines
and print magazines, including Clean Sheets. Her second
book, 29 Ways to Use Everyday Objects as Sex Toys
will be available in January 2004.
