Full Circle

At last, her breathing slowed and her eyes fluttered open. She saw me watching her and smiled.

She reached forward and guided my face to hers, pulling me into a deep kiss. One of her hands slipped down my chest, past my stomach, and under the waistband of my underwear. I groaned as her fingers circled the impossible hardness of my cock.

She watched me, a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

"You like that?" she whispered.

I managed a weak nod.

"Good."

Her hand began a slow, tortuous motion, milking my shaft. I shut my eyes and furrowed my brow in concentration, fighting the urge to explode. It had been so long.

"Sandra," I gasped. I was already teetering on the edge.

Her hand released me. "Shh... lie back." Her palm pressed gently on my chest.

I rolled to my back. Sandra slid over me and kissed her way down my chest.

I relished every sensation: the wet touch of her tongue, the tickle of her hair trailing across my skin, the delicate pressure of her fingernails against my ribs.

Her warm breasts grazed my cock as she moved lower. Then her lips pressed against my hardness, planting soft kisses up and down the length of my shaft.

She circled me with her hand and held me upright. In one slow motion, she trailed her tongue from base to tip. Then she paused, her mouth hovering just above the head. She waited until my eyes locked on hers, then she engulfed me.

I thought the memory of past experiences would prepare me for the sensation, help me to maintain some semblance of control.

I was wrong.

The hot, wet embrace of her mouth was overpowering. She moved with exquisite slowness, holding my gaze the entire time, drinking in my agony.

I tried to form words, tried to tell her it was too much, that I couldn't last another second, but I'd lost the ability to speak.

Sandra sensed my dilemma and slipped me from her mouth.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Let go."

Then her mouth embraced me again and I surrendered. Every muscle drew taut and I exploded, pulsing again and again. Sandra held our connection, guiding me through one peak after another, draining every drop of pleasure from my trembling body.

At last, she allowed me to slip from her mouth. She kissed my stomach while she waited for me to recover.

"That was incredible," I said.

She smiled, then slid up the bed until we were lying side by side.

"I'm glad you liked it," she said, sliding her fingertips over my chest, "but I was being selfish."

"Selfish?"

"Mm-hmm. I have plans for you tonight." She brought her lips close to my ear. "You'll need your stamina."

She pillowed her head against my chest and sighed. I ran my fingers through her hair in long, slow strokes.

My eyelids grew heavy. I fought it at first, but then I allowed my eyes to slide closed. I didn't need sleep. I just needed a moment, just a few short minutes to bask in Sandra's scent, her warmth, her presence.

I awoke disoriented.

For a moment, I was sure the woman sleeping on my chest was Heather. The realization that she was gone brought a fresh stab of pain, sharp but familiar.

I waited for the guilt I was sure would follow. After all, someone else was in her place.

But the guilt never came.

There was longing—that dull, bone-deep ache that tried some mornings to pin me to bed. But there was also something new. I couldn't place it, couldn't yet give it a name, but it was there.

Sandra stirred against me.

"Did we fall asleep?" she mumbled.

"I think so."

She chuckled. "That wasn't part of the plan."

I kissed her head. She looked up at me.

"Was that the first time you've ... I mean, your first since ... "

I nodded.

"Are you okay?"

I thought for a moment. "I didn't know if I would be. But yeah, I am."

She sat up, took my face in her hands, and gave me a gentle kiss, barely grazing my lips. When she pulled away, I gazed into her brown eyes, then guided her onto her back and covered her body with mine.

We held each other for a long time, kissing and caressing. I moved my mouth to her neck, then up to her ear. She ran her fingers through my hair and wrapped her legs around me, pulling me tighter. The moist heat of her sex pressed against me.

I repositioned my hips, aligning myself with her entrance. She moaned and looped her arms around my neck.

"You're sure?" she whispered.

I gave an urgent nod. "Let me get a condom."

"It's okay. I have an IUD."

She pulled me into a deep kiss. With a gentle nudge, the head of my cock parted her sodden lips and began to stretch her opening.

The urge to bury myself inside her was overwhelming, but I moved slowly. I eased forward a few inches, withdrew almost entirely, then dipped back inside. I repeated the motion, again and again. With each shallow thrust, the wet sound of our coupling grew louder.

Sandra tightened her legs around me, trying to pull me deeper, but I resisted. She groaned with need and frustration.

"James," she whimpered. "Please ..."

I locked my eyes with hers. With a long, slow thrust, I drove half my length inside her, savoring every contortion of her face: the widening of her eyes, the knitting of her brows, the way her mouth fell open in a silent moan.

I withdrew. Then, even more slowly, I filled her completely.

"Yes," she hissed, arching into me.

I moved with a steady pace, grinding my pelvis against hers at the apex of each thrust, holding her gaze the entire time. Her body responded, finding my rhythm and undulating with me.

We moved like waves on the ocean, amplifying one another's pleasure, our need swelling and intensifying.

I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it felt to connect with another person in this way: the searing heat, the silky friction, the world fading to shadow as every ounce of focus was drawn toward a single, white-hot point.

My heart hammered inside my chest and my cock swelled as I hurtled toward orgasm. I could do nothing to stave it off. I just hoped that I could last long enough.

Sandra's nails dug into my back as she writhed below me. Her moans faded and she grew quiet. Even her breathing seemed to have stopped. Then, her body stiffened and her sex clamped around me like a vice.

Her release triggered my own.

With a shuddering groan, I emptied myself inside her. She gasped and pulled me tighter, mashing her breasts into my chest, clutching the back of my head in her hand.

I collapsed on top of her, spent. She stroked my hair, her sweat-slickened skin gliding along my chest with each heaving breath.

I propped myself on my elbows and pressed my forehead to hers. She smiled as I raised my head, her deep brown eyes radiating warmth and tenderness. When we kissed, it was impossible to tell if the salt on her lips was from our sweat or my own silent tears.

*******

Sandra and I began seeing each other as often as our schedules would allow. I'd drop by the library for lunch, or she'd stop over after work, or sometimes we'd go out to dinner.

Sandra always invited Katie to join us for dinner, but she never accepted. In her brief interactions with me, Katie was cool and withdrawn. She would say hello. She would answer any questions I asked. But she wouldn't initiate conversation.

I hadn't found the right moment to take her aside and apologize. Sandra told me not to worry about it.

"Give her space," she said. "She'll let you know when she's ready."

I wasn't so sure.

A light dusting of snow covered the ground on Christmas Eve. I was grateful that it wasn't enough to make the roads slick. Sandra and Katie were on their way over for dinner.

We'd agreed on a low-key get together: no presents, no pressure, just the pleasure of one another's company.

When the doorbell rang and Luna saw both Sandra and Katie standing outside, her tail almost flew off her body.

"Hi, girl!" Katie said, squatting down to pet her. Luna jumped up and licked her face.

Sandra watched them both with a big grin. In her hand, she held an oddly shaped present wrapped in bright red paper.

"I thought we agreed on no gifts," I said.

"We agreed on no gifts for humans."

I laughed. "Fair enough. Come on in."

After we finished dinner—glazed ham, scalloped potatoes, and green beans almondine—we made our way to the living room. Sandra and I slumped onto the couch while Katie sat on the floor petting Luna.

"Can I give her our gift?" she asked.

Sandra nodded. Katie leapt up and grabbed the present from the counter. When she returned, she sat down and placed the package on the floor. Luna walked over and sniffed it.

"Go ahead," Katie said. "Open it!"

Luna pawed at it, then used her teeth to rip off a chunk of paper, revealing a large marrow bone. She wagged her tail, plopped down, and immediately began gnawing it.

"You just made her whole year," I said, chuckling.

As we watched Luna, Sandra's phone began to chime. She glanced at the screen, then threw up her hands. "Seriously? I told them we'd call when we got home."

Katie bolted upright. "Abuelito y abuelita?"

Sandra nodded. "They're only calling now because they think I'll be forced to introduce them to James. Well, they can just leave a voicemail."

"No!" Katie pleaded. "I want to say hi!"

Sandra sighed and shot me an apologetic look. She stood, carried the phone to the kitchen, and tapped the screen. "¡Feliz Navidad!" she called.

Katie and I sat together in silence. Luna gnawed loudly on her bone. In the kitchen, Sandra began laughing at something her mother said.

"So," I said, "your mom tells me you're playing indoor soccer this winter."

"Yeah."

"Thought I might come to a few games. Would that be okay with you?"

She shrugged. "Do whatever you want."

I nodded. "I don't get another chance, huh? This is just how it's going to be between us?"

She studied my face. When she spoke, her voice was low enough that only I could hear it. "You may have my mom fooled, but you're not going to fool me."

Sandra walked back into the living room and handed the phone to Katie.

"Princesa!" a man's voice called.

Katie dove into animated conversation with her grandparents while Sandra settled next to me on the couch. I draped an arm around her shoulder and she snuggled into me.

"Any tips for making a good first impression?" I asked.

She stroked my arm. "Just be yourself."

When Katie finally handed her mother the phone, I was surprised how nervous I was.

"There he is!" Sandra's mother cried. "It's nice to meet you, James. Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Parades ... and Mr. Parades. It's nice to meet you."

Mrs. Parades—Gabriela, she insisted—wore large, silver-rimmed glasses and had Sandra's radiant smile. Sandra's father, Luis, had kind eyes and a bushy white mustache.

Gabriela did most of the talking. Luis stayed silent, perhaps because he was naturally taciturn or didn't speak much English.

"You're separated from your family too?" Gabriela asked after learning my parents and brothers lived in Washington.

"Yes, but I'm lucky enough to see them a couple times a year."

Gabriela sighed. "It's hardest over the holidays, isn't it? Being apart?"

"It is," I agreed.

"Then you make sure to call your mother and father tonight. They miss you."

"I promise, Mrs. Par ... Gabriela."

She nodded. "Good boy."

Sandra covered her face with her hand. "Okay, Mom. We'll talk more tomorrow if I haven't died of embarrassment. Love you."

"Love you!" Sandra's mother said. Her father pressed his fingers to his lips and extended his arm. Sandra tapped the screen to end the call.

"I'm sorry if that was awkward," she said.

I laughed. "It wasn't. Your parents are terrific."

Sandra glanced out the window. The snow had started to pick up again.

"We should get going," she said, "before the roads get too bad."

"Probably a good idea. Before you go, though, I have something for you both."

I walked to the kitchen and removed two mason jars from the cabinet. I handed one to Sandra and one to Katie.

"Strawberry preserves," I said. "Made from the same strawberries we ate last summer. Figured it might be a nice winter treat."

"You're breaking our rules," Sandra said. "This is a gift. For humans."

I shook my head. "Gifts are wrapped." I tapped the lid of her jar. "No wrapping. So, not a gift."

"Well, thank you. And thanks for dinner." She turned and stared at Katie.

"Thank you," Katie added.

"Merry Christmas," I said. "Be safe driving home. Text me when you get in, okay?"

"Will do." Sandra gave me a quick peck on the lips, then started out the door.

Katie began to follow her, then spun around. "Almost forgot to say goodbye to Luna," she said.

She hurried over to Luna, who was still happily gnawing on her bone by the table, and gave her a quick pat on the head. "Merry Christmas, girl." Without glancing at me, she ducked out the door and trotted to her mother's car.

It wasn't until after their car had pulled away that I saw it: a jar of strawberry preserves placed on the center of the table.

I shook my head, then pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts.

I had a promise to keep.

*******

I spent most of the winter battling a vague sense of dread. I wasn't used to being happy. It felt like a façade.

When I was a kid, I pulled a large, thin sheet of ice from a pond. I remembered balancing it in my hands, spreading my fingertips across its smooth, wet surface to distribute the weight. I couldn't understand how something so large could remain in one piece. At any moment, I was sure it would crack and disintegrate into dozens of clear, sharp shards.

Somehow, my relationship with Sandra not only held together but also grew stronger. Sharing meals became commonplace, and we even managed to squeeze in a stay at a nearby bed and breakfast. Katie kept her distance when she could and tolerated us when she was forced to be nearby.

Sandra called one Friday afternoon while I was organizing my tools on a new pegboard that I'd mounted in the workshop.

"Hey," I said, squeezing the phone between my shoulder and ear while I tried to hang an angled paint brush.

"Hey. I'm stopping at the store after work. You need anything?"

I was having Sandra over for spaghetti while Katie was out with friends. I thought for a moment.

"I don't think ... wait, yeah."

The phone started to slip from my shoulder. I caught it but dropped the paintbrush, which bounced underneath the workbench.

I laid the phone on the bench and turned on speakerphone. "Can you pick up some grated parmesan?" I asked. "I'm almost out."

"Parmesan. Got it. Anything else?"

I was only half listening. I squatted down and tapped my hand under the bench, searching for the brush. "Nope. I'm good."

"Okay. See you tonight!"

My fingertips grazed paintbrush bristles. I stretched, trying to extend my arm enough to get a good grip. I almost had it.

"Yep," I said. "See you tonight. Love you."

I froze.

Love you.

I wasn't thinking. I'd been distracted. I'd never said those words.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then: "I love you too."

I tried to leap up and grab the phone. In my haste, I smashed my head into the underside of the workbench. Two screwdrivers rolled onto the floor beside me. I staggered to my feet, rubbing my sore head with my palm.

Sandra had hung up.

I considered calling her back, but I decided that would only make things more awkward. Better to wait and talk in person.

I put Luna in her crate before Sandra arrived so that we could be alone. About an hour later, the doorbell chimed. I took a deep breath, then swung open the door.

We both stared at each other. Sandra spoke first.

"Did you mean what you said? On the phone?"

My face grew serious. "Every word. I need grated parmesan."

She smacked my arm. "No! The other thing."

I smiled. "Yeah, I meant that too."

She threw up her hands. "Well ... that's not how you say it!"

"It slipped out."

"Slipped out? You're supposed to say it surrounded by candlelight. And soft music. And while staring into each other's eyes."

"I know. I wasn't thinking. But that feeling ... it's not something I have to think about. It's not something I consider or question. It just ... is. I feel it every moment of every day. I love you."

"That," she said, her face beaming, "was much better."

She backed me into the house and pulled me into a deep kiss. Her palms slid down my chest and began unbuttoning my shirt. She raised herself on tiptoe and brushed her lips against my ear.

"I love you too."

*******

I went with Sandra to most of Katie's indoor soccer games. The teams played six a side, and the action was fast paced and high scoring.

Katie wasn't the best player on her team, but she was pretty close. She had a deft touch on the ball, good field vision, and a wicked shot. It was rare that she didn't score at least one goal.

We had the same routine after every game. Her mother would greet her on the sideline and give her a fist bump. We'd walk back to the car, and I'd say, "Good game."

She'd nod and say, "Thanks."

And that would be that.

Then, toward the end of the season, Katie split two defenders on the dribble and lashed a shot into the top corner just past the keeper's outstretched fingertips. The goal pulled her team even just before the final whistle.

Walking back to the car, she was practically vibrating with adrenaline. I couldn't help but smile.

"Good game," I said.

She nodded. "Thanks." She walked a few more steps, then glanced up at me and grinned. "You see that move I pulled outside the box?"

I fought hard to mask the rush of elation that I felt after her simple question. I allowed myself a small smile.

"Yeah. That was pretty slick."

I hoped that moment would mark a thaw in our relationship, but her icy demeanor returned the next day.

It was hardest on Sandra. She was desperate for Katie to share her happiness. I knew Sandra felt giving Katie more time was the best approach, but I was tired of watching her suffer, tired of watching them both suffer.

I decided to force the issue. My hope was that confronting Katie would mend our relationship, but I also had to accept the possibility that I might fracture it further.

On a warm day in May, I stood outside Sandra's apartment and knocked on the door. Katie opened it. She frowned when she saw me.

"She's not here," she said.

"I know. I'm not here to see her. I'm here to see you."

She stared at me. "I have a lot of studying to do."

"You always have a lot of studying to do when I'm around."

"What can I say? You inspire me to be a good student."

"Come on. I just want to talk."

She sighed and swung open the door. I walked in.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asked in a bored tone.

"I'll tell you over ice cream."

She shook her head. "Seriously? You're trying to bribe me? With ice cream?"

"You misunderstood. You're buying me ice cream. Go get some money."

Her eyes narrowed. "What? Why?"

"Because you've been a jerk. You owe me ice cream."

She stood, frozen in place, staring at me.

I clapped my hands. "Let's go!"

We sat across from each other at a picnic table outside the Kool Cones ice cream parlor. The table's red paint had begun to crack and peel in the summer sun. Multicolored circles left behind by dripping ice cream dotted its surface.

I savored a bite of my chocolate ice cream. "Name something you like about me," I said.

"Why?"

"Just name something. And you can't say Luna."

Katie shrugged and plucked a chunk of cookie dough from her cone. "You seem to make my mom happy. I like that. Helps keep her off my back."

"Okay. I'll take that."

"Is that why you made me buy you ice cream? To force a compliment?"