Ding Dong The Bitch Is Dead

I managed to get myself under control by the time we landed at O'Hare and felt nothing either way as I took a cab home. Paula was waiting for me nervously, not sure how I'd be. I'd left with bad feelings between us and she didn't know what mood I'd return with.

"How was it?" she asked, biting a fingernail as she watched me haul my luggage into our apartment.

"I don't want to talk about it, OK?" I said, surprised at the sadness in my own voice.

Paula nodded, understanding. Sometimes she could be so empathetic and I was grateful. I couldn't explain to her what had happened. If I tried to tell her about Donald, she'd only be hurt by the infidelity. She hugged me and I hugged her back and led her back to the bedroom for the gentle homecoming lovemaking I craved.

When it was done, she cradled me in my arms. I nuzzled against her generous breasts and cried like an infant until I fell asleep.