Some Things Are Meant to Be

Her voice faded off and just for a second, there was a distant look in her eyes.

"It's been so long," she said wistfully. Then she held her hand out. "Come to me."

Wild horses couldn't have stopped me from laying down in the bed next to her. I would have fought my way through Her Majesty's Coldstream Guards to take Melanie in my arms.

Our lips pressed together. It was a tender, gentle, awkward kiss.

I felt like I was sixteen again. Only I never kissed anyone when I was sixteen. At least no one other than my mother or grandmother. And I certainly didn't kiss them like I was kissing Melanie Nakamura.

Her arms wrapped around my shoulders. We explored each other, tentatively at first. I bit gently on her lips. She squealed with delight. Melanie sucked on my tongue. I moaned softly.

She sat up and our bodies pressed together.

My hands brushed against the soft skin of her back. Her body felt so light. We were both flush with the heat from the bath. And a little bit from the night's alcohol. And passion that had been pent up for half a lifetime.

Our kisses became familiar. Harder. Our teeth knocked together.

I pulled back long enough to slip her glasses off and set them on the nightstand next to the bed.

Melanie lay back against the pillows and she pulled me down on top of her. Our bodies were separated only by the thin top sheet.

"Make love to me," she whispered.

"I don't have any condoms," I stammered.

"You don't need one; I'm on the pill," Melanie blew into my ear.

"Are you sure?"

"How many girls have you been with?" she asked, nibbling on the side of my neck.

Here's a tip for the CIA: If you want to get a man to tell you anything, just have Melanie Nakamura kiss them. They'll confess all their sins and give up every one of their secrets.

"Five," I said.

"Do you know how many men I've been with?" she asked. I dumbly shook my head. "One. My husband. And he never looked at me the way you are right now. He never truly desired me. I'm not even sure he ever loved me. I want you, Kevin . . . Make love to me . . . please . . ."

Who was I to refuse her?

My hands brushed the sheet away and I pressed my naked body against hers.

"Touch them," she instructed, as if reading my mind.

As if waiting for the alarm clock to go off and end this dream—because that's the only thing it could be—I hesitated before slowly bringing the palms of my hands up to her breasts.

Melanie let out a low, throaty growl. I nearly came right there.

Her breasts were as perfect as I had imagined. Though it had been almost eighteen years since I had last seen her, they were still perky and firm. They had a hint of sag, but as far as I was concerned, they were thirty-six year-old marvels. Her nipples became hardened little points in my grasp.

Ever so slowly, I kneaded her breasts in my hands. My lips strayed from hers. I kissed my way across her cheek to her neck.

Then down to her collarbone.

She moaned as I left a trail of wet kisses down between her breasts. The after prom fantasy I had was pretty good. It kept me entertained literally for years.

But it was nothing compared to the real thing.

Melanie's petite body shivered at my touch. Her lithe form was simply heavenly.

And those breasts. Her perfect little tits. I could have worshiped them forever.

I alternated kissing and squeezing and pinching and cupping them.

A couple of times, she pulled me by the hair to bring my lips to hers. But mostly, she lay back, her mouth open, gasping for air between moans.

Her skin was so soft. Her touch so gentle. Her mouth so hungry.

Finally, she pulled my mouth away from her chest.

"I want you inside me," she whispered.

With one motion, I swept the sheet and comforter aside. Melanie lay back, her legs splayed open. Her breasts sat up high on her chest. I got up on my knees in front of her.

My cock stuck out in front of me like the bowspirit on a tall ship. For the first time, I saw my hunger and desire reflected in Melanie's eyes.

Her hands went to me and she began to stroke me gently. Her fingertips felt so soft.

"Fuck me with this thing, Kevin," she whispered.

I leaned forward and kissed her again. As our tongues intertwined, she began to rub the head of my cock against the slit of her pussy. With every pass, she whimpered a little. I tried not to cum right there.

One of my hands cupped her breasts. The other brushed her hair out of her face.

Her mouth fell open when I pushed forward with my hips. The tip of my cock entered her.

"Yes," she gasped.

I pulled back then thrust in a little further. Ever so slowly, began to rock back and forth.

With each stroke, I pushed just a little bit more inside her.

"Oh, god," Melanie moaned.

With each stroke, her fingernails dug into my back just a little bit harder.

Her pussy coated my cock with its warmth. I pulled back enough to look into her eyes. They were hooded over with pleasure.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

We were in no rush. Soon, we found an easy rhythm. Her hips moved to meet each of my strokes.

"Kev . . . oh, god, you feel so good," she gasped. Her eyes were closed.

I kissed her again. Her hands went down to my ass and she pulled me all the way inside her.

If I had died right there, I would have been a happy and fulfilled man. In fact, I'm not sure I didn't die, because I was in Heaven.

Melanie's warm pussy seemed to fit me like a glove. Her head was thrown back. I nibbled on the underside of her jawbone.

I felt her push back on my hips, so I withdrew until only the tip of my cock was still inside her.

Without warning, I thrust back into her with one fast, hard stroke.

She squealed with surprise and delight. "Do that again!"

"Do this again?"

Very quickly, I found out that Melanie Nakamura was a screamer.

If I had cared what the people in the room next door thought, I might have worried about waking them.

Varying the speed and depths of my strokes, I began to pound my cock into her. She began to babble incoherently, both in English and in Japanese.

Her hands ran through my hair and she pulled me down to her. I didn't break stride.

I could feel her tits pressing against me. I could feel her pussy flood with warmth.

"Don't stop, Kevin," she cried. "Don't stop fucking me!"

My reply was an unintelligible grunt.

Melanie's eyes were squeezed shut. She gritted her teeth as she absorbed each thrust.

Our hips smacked together. She began to grind her hips in to me. Our rhythm almost seemed natural.

As if our lovemaking was second nature to the two of us.

I wasn't going to last very long.

Neither was she.

"Oh, Kevin," she gasped. "I'm about to cum!"

With all the effort I could gather, I tried to hold it. But I couldn't. I rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb.

That sent her over the edge.

I could feel her pussy contracting around me.

That sent me over the edge.

"I'm cumming!" My cock began to pulse inside her.

"Yes, Kevin, cum inside me!" she sobbed. "I'm cumming all over you!"

With one final stroke, I shoved my cock as deep inside her as it would go and deposited a thick load of cum inside my high school dream girl.

She wrapped her legs around me and locked her ankles behind the small of my back.

We rode out the orgasm together. She arched her back. I squeezed her breasts. The room started to spin.

I collapsed on top of her. Our breathing was ragged.

My head rested on the pillow next to her. I couldn't move.

"Don't go," she whispered as I began to roll off her.

All I could do was lay there inside her, wondering what I had done to deserve this. And how many good deeds I'd have to do in order to earn the karma necessary to merit the boon I had just received.

For a long while afterwards, her hands ran up and down my back. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to lose the magic of the moment.

I worried that I might be squishing her. After all, standing up, her head came up to my collarbone and over the last eighteen years, I had packed on a few—but not too many—pounds. Whenever I started to roll to the side or pull away, she tugged just a bit and kept me on top of her.

My cock never left her pussy. Even though I wasn't hard any more, I didn't slip out of her.

"Thank you," she said finally.

I slipped my forearm under the back of her neck and propped myself up on one elbow. I leaned in and kissed her gently. "I should be the one thanking you. You don't know how long I've dreamed of this . . . of how long I've wanted you."

We held each other for a long time.

"I love feeling you inside me," she whispered in my ear.

"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?"

"No, Kev, you're not." Her hands continued to move up and down my back. Our bodies were both covered in sweat.

"So was it everything that you imagined?" she said finally.

"And then some," I smiled feebly. She brought my lips to hers and we gently kissed again. The hunger was gone from her touch.

Not much later, our bodies fell into a familiar rhythm. After a brief recovery period, my cock began to harden inside her. My hands roamed her body as well and we began Round 2.

"You feel so good," Melanie moaned. "You're so hard for me . . ."

Before I could reply, she squeezed me with her pussy. I almost lost it right then!

Her hands cupped my face. "You're so handsome, Kevin. You've aged well . . . you used to be way too thin for your own good . . . but now . . . now you're a good-looking man, not that boy I used to know."

"And you're more beautiful today than you were when we were still in high school," I looked into her eyes and my heart melted.

"Even if my tits are small and I've got funny-shaped eyes?"

"You have eyes?" I teased. She pinched me and we both giggled. Then she dug her fingers into my side and we both began to laugh.

It was one of those deep, hearty, cleansing laughs. One that seemed long overdue for her. I tickled her back, but not to be out done, she soon had me flipped over on my back.

Not that I was trying very hard, mind you, but she was the black belt and I wasn't.

Melanie settled down on top of me. My cock had never left her.

She leaned forward and fed one of her breasts to my hungry mouth.

"I love your tits," I managed to say between nibbles.

"You don't think they're too small?"

"I think they're perfect," I pushed her back enough to stare at her face, not her chest.

"Then why did you spend half of high school with your eyeballs glued to Melinda Dransfield's chest?" she needled me.

"Everyone spent high school staring at Melinda Dransfield's chest," I smacked her on the backside once for good measure.

"Don't start that if you're not going to deliver," she warned me playfully.

In the span of about two hours, from the beginning of our bath together until now, we had gone from being old friends to lovers and now . . . now I felt like we were becoming something more. Not just fuck buddies. Not just friends-with-benefits.

Deep down, I hoped that there would be something more for us.

We were developing a comfort zone with each other. I wanted to not only be naked for her physically, but emotionally as well.

"Melanie, I'm going to have you begging for mercy here in a little bit," I taunted her back.

"Ooooh! I like the sound of that!" she cooed and a sultry look fell over her eyes. "Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks!"

"I'm gonna fuck your brains out," I pulled her down to me and thrust up into her at the same time.

"Then get fucking, Big Boy," she said. "You've got a lot of time to make up!"

**************

My internal clock woke me up promptly at 6:30. I jerked awake in the bed. Melanie was gone.

Instantly I blinked back the sleep and in an irrational panic, my eyes darted around the room. Where had she gone?

At first, I thought to call her name, but I stopped when I saw her suitcase right where she had left it the night before. Her glasses were gone from the nightstand and the door to the outer room was closed.

I settled back into the pillows on the bed for just long enough to bring my heart rate down. I was still naked. The remnants of the previous night's lovemaking was matted against my groin. I'm sure my hair was a mess. My back was sore from where Mel's fingernails had dug into my skin. My shoulders and hips ached from their exertions.

And I wouldn't have traded that feeling for anything in the world. Except for maybe having Melanie Nakamura wake up in my arms.

It had been close to a year since I had sex. Taking a deep breath, I wondered what we were going to do now. I've never been a one-night stand kind of guy. The few relationships I've had were generally long-term. Never friends-with-benefits or just fucking.

Melanie was the girl of my dreams. Not just because she was the prettiest girl in my school, but because of everything else: her brains, her willpower, her humour. Her looks were the icing on the cake, but as far as I was concerned, she was the whole package.

Just then, it dawned on me that maybe she was using me. I'm sure she could have had her pick of guys. So why not take pity on an old friend? It had been eighteen years—half a lifetime ago—since we had last seen one another. Who's to say that it wouldn't be that long again before our next meeting?

I rolled out of the bed and went to the closet. I pulled out a plush terrycloth robe and noticed that its mate was gone.

Very quietly, I opened the door and saw Melanie sitting in a chair by the window. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and was staring out into the darkness.

She jumped slightly when I stepped out into the main room. She smiled timidly. She looked so beautiful. Her hair was pulled back. She didn't have any make-up on, not that she needed any. At least in my humble opinion.

Once again, her eyes looked tired and worried. It was like she had to fight to smile.

"Good morning," I said softly. Wondering if our friendship was over.

She didn't reply, but when I sat down on the couch next to her, she slipped her hand into mine almost automatically.

The curtains were drawn just enough to see outside. From our room at the top of the hotel tower, we watched the city slowly coming to life. The sun's first rays were coming over the horizon. Already the airport support services were coming to life. Plows and blowers had cleared the tarmac. No new snow had fallen, although it still appeared to be bitterly cold outside.

We sat there for a little while. It seemed that she enjoyed the relative peace and quiet, and I wasn't about to disturb her.

"Do you ever second guess the decisions you made in your life?" she asked out of the blue.

I shrugged. "Not really."

"Why not? Don't you regret any of the bad choices you made?"

"Sometimes I wish I didn't have to learn things the hard way," I chose my words very carefully, wondering where she was going with this conversation. "But I'd like to think that each of the experiences in my life—good, bad or indifferent—has made me the person I am today. Yes, there are some things I wish I could take back, especially when I'd hurt someone's feelings, but each of those 'learning experiences'—'character-building' or whatever you want to call it—has contributed to me being me. And I like who I am."

The look she gave me was one of both curiosity and almost-grudging admiration. "That's very Zen of you."

"What about you?" I dared to inquire.

It was a moment before she replied. "Knowing what I know now, there are some things I wouldn't do again. But other things . . . it's more complicated."

She paused to take a deep breath. "Like my husband . . . I wouldn't have married him again. But then again, he gave me the two most beautiful children in the world. I guess it's a package deal, huh?"

I squeezed her hand, mostly because I didn't know what else to do. It seemed that she was building up to something else. She forced herself to smile for me again.

"Kevin, I'm sorry for dumping this on you," Melanie said. "You know how people will meet someone on a plane or a cruise ship and jabber on and on and on? I feel like that's what I'm doing to you. And for that I'm sorry. We haven't seen each other for almost twenty years and here I am spilling my guts, making it all about me."

"If you want to talk, I'm always here for you," I said, almost naturally slipping back into the "friend zone".

"I appreciate that," this time her smile was genuine. She looked out the window once again, her mind drifting like the snow on the ground. She still hadn't let go of my hand. "Kev . . . I have a confession to make."

Once again, she drew in a deep breath. This time she held it before letting it out slowly.

"I'm not in banking," she said softly. There were tears in her eyes. "Not any more. When the industry imploded, I got let go. Not in the first round, but soon afterwards. That was almost five months ago. I was just divorced and living in a house I couldn't afford. My ex, well, he doesn't pay alimony because I always made more than him. In fact, if I hadn't been laid off, I'd be paying him palimony."

What do you say to that? I did the only smart thing and kept my mouth shut.

"They gave me a generous severance," Melanie continued, her voice quivering. She wouldn't look at me. "But that's gone now. I had to sell the house at a loss and move home with my folks. I was out in California for an interview . . . but there are way too many MBAs out there job hunting. I can't compete with kids who are ten years younger and don't have two children to feed."

I squeezed her hand again.

"Kev, I don't know what I'm going to do," she said softly. My heart broke as she began to cry.

Melanie didn't resist as I lifted her out of the chair. We sat back on the couch. I pulled her to me. She buried her face in my shoulder and began to sob uncontrollably.

I may be a guy, but the one thing I've learned about women is that sometimes they don't want you to talk. Guys are doers. We fix things. Even when all you girls want is to vent your feelings, we still feel like we should be doing something. There were a million things I wanted to say or suggest, but none of them were helpful to Melanie at that moment.

So I simply held her close. The tears rolled down her cheeks and into my bathrobe.

Gently, I stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. I let her know that I was close. I pulled my arms around her as comfortingly as I could.

Several minutes later, her breathing became regular. She had curled up into the fetal position against me.

"I'm sorry, Kevin," she whispered, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to unload all my crap on you."

"That's okay, Mel," I smiled. "I don't mind."

My arms were still around her shoulders.

"Have you got anywhere to be by tomorrow?" I asked, a flash of inspiration coming to me.

She shook her head. "Just home to my kids. I'm a pretty boring person now. Being unemployed and living with your folks will do that. Mostly we just hang out at the Casa de Mel."

"Can they live without you for another day?"

"I guess," Melanie shrugged.

"Then let's spend another day here," I suggested. "My folks will wait. Besides, I'm sure we can milk the snowstorm for one more day."

"I don't know," she made a worried face.

"C'mon, Mel," I coaxed. "My treat."

"Kevin, I can't . . ." her voice trailed off and I could tell that she didn't want to come off like she was mooching off me. "You've already done so much."

"Then let me do some more," I said desperately. "Please, Mel, let's just spend another day together. Here. Just us. Doing nothing."

She didn't reply for a long time. "I'm so tired. So tired of being responsible. Of taking care of people. Of worrying."