Ari Ch. 02

I poked my head in tentatively, calling out, "hello? Bobby? Laura?"

"Back here!" came Laura's reply from the back of the house where the bedrooms were. I put the wine on the side table and headed down the hall, with a strong suspicion about what I was about to see.

I was right. The master bedroom door was wide open, and there on the bed were Bobby and Laura, naked. He was on his back and she was energetically riding him cowgirl-style, those huge knockers bouncing around on her chest.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly when she saw me, a big smile on her face, "we knew it was almost time but we, y'know, just got too excited to stop!"

Bobby said nothing as he continued to thrust upwards into Laura. He also had a smile on his face but a rather strange look in his eye. It wasn't pleasure or excitement, more like a kind of curiosity about what I'd do.

Thank God I wasn't caught by surprise! It might have been incredibly painful, coming upon the man I loved fucking someone else. Not that I hadn't done it to him, God knows.... In any event, I'd seen it coming. So I just looked on from the doorway, then after a moment I stepped back into the hall and said, "oops--didn't mean to barge in on you. Maybe I should just go."

"No no," Laura called out gleefully, somewhat out of breath. "Why don't you, uh, have a drink, Ari, we'll be out in, umm, just a few minutes!"

So I retreated to the kitchen, got myself a glass of water, and let them entertain me for another ten minutes. I got to listen to more than just their moans and groans--Laura apparently liked to talk dirty (something Bobby had never particularly enjoyed with me).

"Ohh, baby, oh baby oh baby yes, just like that--oooh!

"Harder, push harder baby, oh yeah, oh yeah, stick your finger up my ass. Yeah, stick that big finger up my tiny butt while your hard cock is reaming my pussy, oh, oh yeah just like that just like that!"

There was quite a bit more in that vein, before I heard the couple finally reaching their orgasms (Laura was apparently a screecher as well as a talker.)

When they emerged a few minutes later, flushed but fully dressed, Laura looked spitefully triumphant but Bobby had a rather sheepish look on his face. He seemed to be a little embarrassed about the childish stunt they'd pulled, and I was delighted to see it.

"So sorry about that, Ari," Laura gloated. "I guess YOU would know how easily Bobby can get me all worked-up, when he wants to!"

Bobby positively winced, and I gracefully murmured that it was nothing, no problem, of course I understood. We went on to have our nice dinner as though nothing had happened, as though they hadn't arranged to have me walk in on them fucking just a half hour earlier.

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That stupid stunt gave me hope--though maybe it shouldn't have. I told Jon--by then he wasn't "Dr. Erickson" anymore--that if Bobby really just loved Laura and wanted to be with her, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to rub it in my face, and he agreed.

So I was feeling more cheerful than ever for about six weeks--my co-workers at my new job even commented on how much I was smiling around the office.

And then the wedding invitation came.

"Robert Norton and Laura Van Geldt request the honour of your presence...." in beautiful engraved lettering. I didn't have the heart to read the rest.

At my next visit to Jon's office I cried and cried. I let go like I hadn't done since the first days after Bobby had found me out.

"It's over," I said. "I can't believe he really wants her, but he does. What the hell am I going to do?"

Jon handed me the tissues, and he gently said, "you're going to go on. You're going to find a way to make a different life for yourself, one without Bobby in it, and you're going to be happy."

He looked at me seriously and said, "you know, you're a remarkable person, Ari. You have courage and determination and a loving heart.

"I still remember my first impression of you--when you told me about the whoring you'd been doing with Charlie and with your customers--and I was almost completely wrong. I judged you too soon, and I apologize."

We talked for another few sessions, with him helping me unburden myself of the grief I was feeling, and then we agreed to stop.

"I'll always be glad to see you if you want to come back, Ari--but I don't think you really need me right now."

We'd discussed the wedding and I concluded I really couldn't bear to go. So I sent them a gorgeous, ridiculously expensive set of crystal wine glasses and a warm note, wishing them a lifetime of happiness together.

And on the night of the wedding, my good friend Felicia from work took me out and let me get drunk, really good and stinking drunk; and she listened to me cry and tell my story, though she'd already heard every word of it, and then she took me home and put me to bed.

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A month later, Felicia and I flew down to Cancun for a ten-day vacation. She'd ended a long relationship only a couple of months before, so she was as much in need of a change as I was. The agenda was sun, lots of drinking, and some no-strings fucking with handsome strangers.

At first it seemed to be just what I needed. We went out dancing the very first night, got picked up by Thad and Walter from Miami, and took them back to our two-bedroom suite. I fucked Walter three times that night and once more in the shower in the morning. It was casual and unemotional and it felt great!

It was also the first time in over a year I'd had sex with anyone besides myself and a vibrator.

On the next two nights I slept with Tim from Iowa (he got a second night because I'd enjoyed the first one so much), and after an evening off where Felicia and I just danced a little and gave ourselves a break, the fifth night I screwed Gary, who'd just finished playing linebacker at USC and was on his way to the NFL.

Gary was years younger than I was. He was also big and strong and he tossed me around like I weighed no more than a pillow. It was the hardest fucking I'd had in a decade or more--nothing subtle or tender, just pound the girl until she's coming and coming. I had to send him away in the morning, though he wanted some more, because I was just too tender between my legs.

The trip turned sour for me (though not for Felicia, who enjoyed every minute of her flirtations and hook-ups) after about a week. I'd fucked a tall slim guy named Marco, one of the tennis pros at the resort, and we'd fallen asleep with him spooned behind me in bed.

I awoke in the morning to the feel of a man's body holding me firmly, gently in his arms, and I felt warm and safe and happy. I love Bobby so much, I thought dreamily, and snuggled back into him a little bit closer.

And then as I came awake I remembered it all. It wasn't Bobby--I'd lost Bobby. It was a perfectly nice, remarkably handsome guy I didn't care about at all, somebody I'd fucked and spent the night with because I was lonely and horny and Bobby was gone forever.

So poor Marco awoke to a sobbing woman in his arms, with absolutely no idea what was bothering her or what he had done. I have to give the guy credit--when I calmed down enough to talk to him, he was incredibly gentle and soothing.

He even said to me in his wonderful lilting accent, "I can't be the man you lost, Ari, but I can still hold you and make you feel warm and safe." And he did, he rocked me like a little girl until all my hysterical crying was over, and stayed with me another hour even though it was clear he wasn't going to get laid again.

When I felt better and I got up to walk him to the door, I gave him a big hug and said, "thank you, Marco--you are the second-nicest man I ever met!" And he grinned and kissed me softly and said, "good luck to you, Ari."

After that, I was done with casual fucking. I read a couple of books, worked on my tan, swam in the pool, and fought the men off when Felicia and I hit the clubs in the evening. She was happy to keep having fun, so I made sure nobody took advantage of her or dragged her off someplace.

And when we got back to town I made a vow that I'd get on with my life. Bobby was gone--I'd lost him, he was remarried, that was that. Time to think about my own life and what I wanted it to be.

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When I checked my answering machine after work one day, I was surprised to hear a message that said, "Hi, it's Jon--Erickson. Hoping you're okay. Give me a call when you have a chance."

Turned out he'd called to ask me out! I never saw that coming. We had lunch together, very casual, and he told me a lot of things I'd never realized.

"I hope you don't mind my saying this, Ari, it may seem a little weird. But I'm very attracted to you--and I hope we could, uh, go out, get to know each other.

"I mean, differently--obviously! I already know you, and....shit. This isn't coming out very well.

"I would never date a patient--period. But that's over now, and--well, you get the picture."

I was taken aback, along with being flattered. "Jon, I think I need to think about this. I mean, you've been such a great help to me, and I really trust you. But I never--I mean I never thought about you that way at all."

In the end I decided, what the hell? I wasn't going to have Bobby, and Jon was attractive and smart. So we dated for a few weeks, until I realized it was never going to go anywhere.

The problem wasn't him, it was me. Jon was a charming, interesting man, and he was as devoted a would-be boyfriend as you could find. But when he wanted to get physical, to go beyond a couple of warm, lingering good-night kisses--I found I just couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, Jon," I finally told him; and I meant it. "I know that going to bed together is the logical next step for us, but I just can't.

"I don't know whether it's me still holding a torch for Bobby, or... In fact I don't think it's that, actually. Maybe it's just that for me you're still my therapist, my trusted advisor. I can't turn that off and turn on something that means 'boyfriend,' you know?"

He sighed, and kissed my forehead. "I do know, Ari. It's what I was afraid of; but I like you a lot, so I thought it was worth a shot."

We parted as friends, for which I was grateful. I didn't want another important man in my life to end a relationship on bad terms.

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When an opening at work came up to move to the San Diego office, I decided to take it. It had been four months since Bobby's wedding and I felt stuck. Time to move my life forward, and I'd probably be better off somewhere else. I'd never lived on the West Coast, and the new job meant some traveling and more responsibility, so...what the hell.

And I enjoyed it there. The weather was great, life was a little more relaxed, and I got to do more interacting with customers, which I was still good at. No more business fucking--I was done with that forever! But I still knew how to negotiate and flatter, and I nailed down more than my share of successful contracts. After two years in San Diego I was making about what I'd been earning with Charlie--and with no sex involved.

As for non-business sex? I dated from time to time, but more because I knew I had to than out of any great interest. A couple of guys were nice but a little dull; and one was really high-energy and fun but dangerously unstable; and there was one who couldn't stop talking about his two ex-wives and how they'd screwed him over (I made it a point never to speak about Bobby, beyond revealing that I was divorced). I even dated a guy who I might possibly have fallen for, until we began having sex and I learned that he had a fetish for wearing diapers and being treated like an infant. Gross!

So I never came close to falling in love, or even sustaining a relationship longer than two or three months. I had sex with the guys I was dating, when I wanted to, but I wasn't anything like promiscuous. And it never meant all that much to me, either, because the men never did.

It was like sex before Bobby, actually--before the time in my life when I learned what sex with love could be. But now, after Bobby, sex just for fun could never be enough. I was sad a lot.

It would be nice to say that I closed the book on Bobby, but that wasn't entirely true. I sent him and Laura a nice Christmas card each year--never getting one in return--and I have to confess I called their house from time to time. Maybe every couple of months.

It was ridiculous, I know. I never called when I thought they might be home. I just wanted to hear his voice on the machine: "hello, you've reached Laura and Bob Norton--please leave a message after the tone." Sometimes I'd call two or three times in a row, and cry at the sound of that familiar voice.

And then I'd say to myself, "Ari, you've got to let go--it's over. Get it together!"And I'd pull myself together and go to the gym or something, and the feelings would subside. A little bit.

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I got back from an exhausting trip on a Friday afternoon. Seattle, Portland and Minneapolis in four days, with six meetings and two signed contracts. I took a long, hot bubble bath with some champagne and enjoyed every minute of it.

Look at me, the successful businesswoman! I earned my company a lot of money this week, and quite a chunk for myself. But of course, I could never think that way for too long without realizing how empty my personal life was, and without thinking about Bobby.

Even though it was the evening I decided to call his house to hear his voice--just once, I promised myself. I decided that if he or Laura answered, I'd just hang up.

"Hello, you've reached Bob Norton--please leave a message after the tone. To reach Laura Van Geldt please call 614 961-4202."

What?! I hung up the phone, my heart racing. She'd moved out? They'd broken up?

I had to know, instantly. I called my old friend Felicia. She was still my closest confidant, though I'd made some nice friends in San Diego, and she still lived back in Columbus.

"Hold on, Ari, slow down! I can hardly understand you!" she said, laughing. "Bobby's what?"

"His machine--his voice--it's just him! It's not him and Laura--I think she's moved out. Maybe their marriage is breaking up!" I couldn't stop babbling, and she continued to laugh at me.

Finally I calmed down a little. Felicia and I talked for nearly an hour about what it meant--a divorce, a separation, or maybe she's just away for a short time and wanted to be reachable. We agreed that I'd be best off hiring a PI for a day or two. Felicia laughed, "I love you like a sister, Ari, but I'm not taking a couple of days off work to stalk your ex-husband."

So on Monday I made a few calls, got a recommendation, and hired a serious-sounding guy named Greg Overbrook; and by Thursday he had called me back with a full report.

"Your Mr. Norton and his wife are definitely headed for a divorce. She has been out of the house for three weeks, and the papers were filed by Mr. Norton ten days ago. The grounds are "Irreconcilable Differences." She's living in a two-bedroom apartment downtown.

"The neighbors didn't know much. For a year or two they saw them both around the neighborhood, but not so much in the past few months. One woman said she'd heard loud arguments a couple of times, some yelling, but the cops were never called or anything."

I thanked him, hung up, and dug in my address book for a number I hadn't needed in a while.

I got his machine. "Jon? It's Ari. I'm going to be in town next week and I'd like to see you--professionally. Will you let me know what times you might be available? Here's my number..."

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"Are you comfortable seeing me again, Ari? I mean as a patient?"

"Oh hell yes, Jon!" I replied impatiently. "Yes, of course! I trust you and I value your opinion.

"I'm sure I can--oh, wait a minute." I laughed. "Is that your way of saying you're not comfortable working with me? Since we dated for a while?"

He blushed slightly, but he said, "no, it's fine. I'm glad to see you, and I'd like to help. What's going on?"

"I found out Bobby is getting a divorce. The papers have been filed and his wife has moved out. So maybe I have a chance!" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice, and there wasn't much point in trying.