Some Things Are Meant to Be

For just a second, I worried that I had overstepped my bounds, but her appreciative smile allayed all my fears.

We enjoyed another dinner together. I carefully steered our conversation away from the "forbidden" topics: kids, jobs, and money. We instead talked sports, current events, fashions and even a little politics. After the day's earlier massage and sex—and with a little wine added in at dinner—it seemed that Melanie had fully loosened up for me.

Throughout the meal, I found my fingers intertwined with hers. Several times, I found her foot rubbing up against my calf. She seemed flirtatious and care-free.

The food was excellent, made even better by my company, and we declined dessert. Arm in arm, I led her back to our room. No sooner were we through the door than she was all over me.

Melanie's touch seemed desperate. A trail of clothes littered the floor to the bedroom.

I pushed her up against the door frame. Our tongues dueled. I pressed my body against hers. I felt those glorious little breasts against my chest.

Her hands ran through my hair. I cupped her face and looked into her eyes. She stared back lovingly at me.

"Mel," I whispered. "I—"

"Shhhhhh." She put her finger on my lips. I think she sensed what I was going to say. Then she pulled me to her again.

Again our bodies seemed to melt into one. I kissed my way down her neck. She squealed with delight when I hit one of those spots.

My hard cock was pressing against her belly. She giggled as I blindly humped against her, the head desperately trying to find the slit of her pussy.

She wrapped her arms around my neck as I slipped my hands under her perfect ass. She lifted up and started to grind her hips against me.

Our dance continued until I felt her warmth around me. I let out a groan of pure bliss as she sank down on to me.

"Oh, Kevin," she moaned in my ear. "You feel so good inside me!"

I wanted to say something but words failed me. I gave her a few soft strokes then felt her lift her legs. She wrapped them around my waist.

"Take me to the bed and make love to me," she nibbled on my ear lobe.

Even though she wasn't supposed to be in charge, who was I kidding? She had me wrapped around her little finger, even as her pussy was wrapped around my tumescent sex.

Melanie continued to grind her hips against me as I carried her to the bed. As gently as I could, I lay her down beneath me.

She spread her legs so she could take as much of me inside her as she could. I gave her a series of slow strokes, pulling back until I was almost out of her, then gently pushing back in until I could go no further.

"God, you're so big, Kevin," she gasped.

I leaned in to kiss her. "Statistically, I think I'm about average."

Melanie smiled dreamily. "Well, compared to my ex, you're fucking huge."

Yeah, I know, it's a cheap thrill to hear that your dick is bigger than another guy's, but hey, who am I to turn down a compliment?

"I love it when you talk dirty," I kissed her in reply.

"Then fuck the shit out of me!"

"Fuck you where?" I broke my pace and thrust into her as hard as I could.

Whatever she had to say was lost in her gasp, so I did it again.

"Fuck . . . my . . . pussy!" she cried between strokes.

Obediently, I began to pound into her. With each thrust she cried out, a little louder each time.

Her fingernails dug into my shoulders. I bit her right behind the ear, drawing a surprised—but enthusiastic—yelp. She responded by sucking on my collarbone almost until it hurt.

Yeah, that left a mark.

I lifted her leg until her calves were resting on my shoulders. By now, I was confident of what I could do without hurting her, so I started to thrust harder and harder.

In this position, I could no longer kiss her. Instead, with her body nearly bent in half, Melanie's eyes met mine. Her hands locked behind my neck.

Her cries continued as I mercilessly rammed my cock in and out of her tight little pussy. "Fuck me, Kevin!"

Beneath me, I watched Melanie Nakamura's petite body. Writhing in ecstasy. Her breasts jiggled with each thrust. Her mouth fell open every time I filled her up.

Melanie's eyes were hooded over with desire. I lost myself in those brown, almond-shaped eyes.

She was a trooper; her body absorbed every blow. I never let up as she begged for more. Harder. Faster.

All of my pent-up desire. Eighteen years of fantasies. Half a lifetime of longing.

I drove it all into Melanie with my cock.

She couldn't move. I had her knees pinned back against her chest. Her rear end was lifted up off the bed to meet my thrusts.

"Oh, Kevin," her voice was little more than a whisper. Her entire body was shaking. Her cries subsided, but I could feel her passion was no less intense. She bit her lip. "I'm cumming, Kevin . . . Please cum with me . . ."

I was determined not to stop until Melanie was unconscious, but when I felt her pussy contract around me and flood with warmth, I knew I couldn't hold it much longer.

"Please, Kevin," Melanie wailed, her voice quivering.

Still I drove my cock inside her like a madman. Her pussy gripped me like a vice.

Melanie threw her head back and let out an ear-splitting scream. That sent me over the edge. I rammed her one final time and then the tingling started in my toes. It shot throughout my body.

All I could hear was the blood pounding through my veins. The room started to spin.

Her fingernails dug into my shoulders.

The head of my cock flared within her, our cum mixing together.

Her body fell limp. I collapsed on top of my lover. Tears ran down her cheeks.

I may have been out for a few minutes. Or maybe just a few seconds.

Lifting myself up, I saw that Melanie's eyes had rolled back into her head. Her chest gently rose and fell.

Brushing her hair out of her face, I caressed her soft skin. She seemed to smile at my touch. I never wanted to leave her. And not just because I was between her legs.

Our bodies were covered in sweat. I kissed her once on the lips, then regretfully withdrew from Melanie's heavenly presence.

Trying not to wake my lover, I pulled the covers back and lay Melanie in the center of the bed. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful.

I went through the suite, turned out all the lights and drew the curtains. Melanie stirred as I slipped in next to her.

With my arm around her, she seemed to naturally fit right up against me, her head resting on my shoulder. Melanie's breath was cool against my bare skin.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I kissed her once more on the top of her head, then whispered my deepest, darkest secret. "I love you, Melanie Nakamura. I have been in love with you since the day we met."

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

"So what do we do now?" I dared to ask.

Melanie and I were still curled up in bed. Our flight would be leaving in a couple of hours. For the second time in three days, I woke up to the smell of Melanie's pretty dark hair. Only this time, we were both naked.

We both reeked of sex. She absently ran her hand across my chest. Her fingernails made my skin crawl.

"I don't know, Kevin," she replied. "I don't even know what I'm going to do now."

"Things will work out," I was trying my best not to let her slip back into her old, worried self.

"That's easy for you to say," she sighed. "You've got a job."

"Can I call you later this week?" I probed.

"How long are you going to be in town?" she asked. "Don't you have to be back to work on Monday?"

Oh, shit, I thought. My lie is unraveling.

"Actually, Mel," I said sheepishly. I hoped she wouldn't mind one little white lie. "I don't have to be anywhere. I'm not really employed either."

"What?!?!" her eyes got wide.

"I, uh . . . I'm not really a community college professor, although I teach sometimes at the local community college. Not this semester, though," my palms began to sweat. "I do have a Ph.D. in history."

"Then what do you do?" she asked. I couldn't tell if she was more curious about the truth or ticked off at me for lying to her.

Nervously, I licked my lips before continuing. "When I was a senior at Guildford, me and my roommate wrote a computer program that became the Citadel game engine. The early version wasn't a very good program, but after graduation, we sold it to one of the premier game developers in Silicon Valley. They tweaked it and made it better; there are versions still in use today in some of the first-person shooters played on computers and consoles. I'm still collecting residuals."

Melanie's jaw hung open in disbelief.

"With some of the money, me and another classmate started one of those mid-90s dot-coms and made a killing on our IPO," I continued. "We wrote a couple of database programs and were living it up for about three years. I sold my half of the company at just the right time; it folded when the market bottomed out, but I did pretty well. I decided to use some of the money to help other people."

Still unable to speak, Melanie continued to stare at me dumbfounded.

"Now, I run a foundation that gives cars to kids who want to go to college or venture capital to people who want to start a small business," I said. "If a kid—regardless of their financial situation—gets a free ride scholarship to any college, from the local state school to Columbia U., I buy them a pretty nice car. As long as they keep the scholarship, they keep the car. If a kid gets out of high school and doesn't want to go to college, I have them submit a business plan; if I like it, I loan the kid some start-up cash. If he or she shows a progressively increasing profit for five years, I forgive the loan."

The cross look was fading from her face. "So why make up that other story?"

"Because when women find out what I really do, I worry that they'll be after me only for my money," I confessed. "Nobody thinks community college teachers are rich."

"Is that what you thought about me?" she looked hurt, and I couldn't blame her.

"I didn't know what to think," I said, realising I was going to have to dig myself out of a hole. "We hadn't seen each other since graduation. You were voted 'most likely to succeed'—"

That drew a scoff from her.

"—And I just didn't want you to think . . . I hoped you liked me for me." I steeled myself for her to launch into an angry tirade about how I didn't trust her enough with the truth or thinking that she was some kind of golddigger. To her credit, she never asked how much I was worth.

"I do like you, Kevin," she said softly. There was a dejected tone in her voice. She rolled out of my arms on to her back. We lay side by side for what seemed like an eternity before she finally spoke. "You have become quite a catch. And not because of your money. It's just . . ."

"It's just what?" I asked as her voice trailed off.

She sighed bitterly. "It's not you—"

Oh, crap! I thought, Not the "It's not you, it's me" speech.

"I'm not in a good place right now," she said. "And it's not about the money for me, either. Being unemployed has actually been a blessing in disguise. I'm spending time with my family and my children. I'm actually talking to my ex-husband again. Getting canned from my job hurt my pride; it's humiliating to apply for unemployment and lose your house and have to move back in with your folks . . . but I know that I'll land on my feet. The economy may be in the dumps now, but it will come back around; it always does."

I wanted to interrupt her, but this was something she needed to say.

"You don't want me right now, Kev," Melanie reached over and took my hand. "I'm divorced with two kids. I'm not the same girl I was when we saw each other the last time. I'm—"

"No, Melanie," I interrupted; I couldn't help it. "You're more beautiful now. And you're still the girl of my dreams. You always were. We could—"

"Kevin," her tone was unmistakably firm. She was back in control. My heart started to pound. I knew she was slipping away from me. "I'm not ready. Not now."

My hands were shaking. I was grateful that she was letting me down gently.

"Tell me something," a sultry tone had crept back into her voice. She rolled over on her side and caressed my cheek. "If I told you that I wanted to wake up next to you every day, what would you do?"

"Fly us to Vegas and get married tonight," I blurted out.

"I know you would," the sad look re-appeared in her eyes. "And it would be oh-so-tempting to let you. But that wouldn't be right. I couldn't use you like that. You deserve better."

She stopped and rolled to the other side of the bed. Melanie reached into her purse and drew out a picture of her and two beautiful children.

"These are Toby and Emily," she said, her voice filling with pride. "They're the center of my life right now. I'm not . . . I don't know that I'm ready for another relationship right now. I can't move them again; not twice in one year."

I wanted to say so many things right then. I wanted to proclaim my eternal—and apparently unrequited—love for her right there. But I didn't. I clammed up.

As my hopes for our relationship were clouded by my teenage lust, Melanie's vision of her life was driven by her emotional hurt, dire financial straits and her love for her children. There was no arguing with that, and I knew it.

"Kevin," she lifted my chin and brought my lips to hers. "You have always been the best friend I could have asked for. And maybe one day there might be a future for us. But not today. Maybe in six months. Maybe a year. I just don't know. I'm sorry."

There was no mistaking the disappointment on my face. I guess my karma was up. The fates are fleeting; I'll give them that.

What convergence of events had brought us together? Was it fate? Destiny? Coincidence? Circumstance? Or was it something bigger that's just out of our hands?

Over the past three days, I couldn't help but think that our meeting was somehow meant to be. I guess not. When I was eighteen, I made a deal with God that I would do anything to have one night with Melanie Nakamura. I guess He was in a generous mood; I got three.

"Besides," she continued, sensing that I was on the verge of bursting into tears, "I have to slowly prepare my parents for the day when I bring a white guy home."

Both of us let out a nervous chuckle. I pulled her close to me, cherishing the feel of her soft skin against me.

We lay there for a long time. When we could stall no longer, we slipped out of the bed and into the bathroom. The two of us took one more indulgent shower together. My hands roamed her body and hers mine.

I tried not to come off as desperate. I savoured every curve of her body. I wanted the memory of her touch to stay with me forever.

Eventually, the time came for us to go. I packed everything I had into my backpack and laptop bag. Melanie gathered her things into her carry-on suitcase.

As we walked down the hallway, she surprised me by taking my hand. I wondered if it was out of pity, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

We checked out of the hotel, then picked up our boarding passes and went through security. An hour later, we were in the air, heading home.

Neither of us spoke much. My hand never left hers. I knew we only had a few more minutes together.

"Are you sure I can't call you this week?" I asked, trying not to look like my heart was broken. The plane was about to land. "Can I at least buy you dinner one night?"

"You've bought me more dinners in the past three days than anyone has in the last six months," Melanie said appreciatively. "I've got your cell; why don't we see how things work out."

Very non-committal. My stomach churned. And not because the landing was a little rough.

I walked down the jetway, my laptop bag in one hand, Melanie's delicate fingers in the other. The silence between us was deafening.

When we approached the security gate, she stepped to the side of the terminal. She tugged on my hand, closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

We kissed gently. It didn't seem like it was "good-bye" but nor was it as passionate as the day before.

With one last resigned sigh, I tried to smile.

"Thank you for everything, Kevin," she said, not wanting to hurt my feelings any more.

What was I to expect? She had only asked for no-frills, friends-with-benefits, wild monkey-love sex. It was me who wanted more. Could I really hold that against her?

It was all I could do not to become a pathetic, begging fool right there, but I somehow found my pride and walked out of the terminal with Melanie at my side.

We turned the corner past the security checkpoint and I immediately saw my parents waving. I smiled and waved back.

"I'll see you around, Kevin," Melanie said softly. She reached out and squeezed my hand, then turned quickly and walked away before I could stop her.

My eyes were fixed on her bouncing pony tail as she made her way towards the parking garage. She never looked back.

I couldn't bring myself to move until my folks enveloped me in one of those big parental bear hugs. I blinked away the self-pity and put on my best smile.

"Hey, there, son," my father slapped me on the back. "Who was your friend? . . . Was that Melanie . . . Oh, drat! What was her name? . . . Melanie Nakamura? She looks great—"

Dad prattled on as he tends to do when he's excited.

"She's Melanie Koizumi now," I said under my breath.

"—I can't believe how long it's been. You used to have the biggest crush on her," he continued to ramble.

My mother took her turn to embrace me. Mom whispered so softly only I could hear. "It looks like you still do."

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

"Hey, Kevin! Kevin Westcott!"

My head shot around at the sound of the voice. A man was sitting at a table outside of TGI Friday's and waving. As soon as I recognised him, my face broke into a wide smile. I hopped off the moving walkway, trying not to spill the bottle of water I held in one hand and the triple-mocha de-caff latte in the other.

He stood and held out his arms. I gave the slightly pudgy and balding man a warm, brotherly hug.

"Well, I'll be damned!" I exclaimed. "Darren Copeland! How the hell are ya?"

"Look who else is here," he pointed to his companion at the table. I could only laugh.

Save me, Kevin, the look in Melanie's eyes pleaded. Save me or I will kill you.

"Can I buy you a beer?" he asked, motioning to one of the empty chairs at the table. Darren graduated with us. Like Melanie and I, he was one of our gifted-class brethren. I had kept up with him for a couple of years after graduation; like me, he went into computer programming where he made a bunch of money in the mid-90s then got a job teaching at Georgia Tech. Last I checked, he was assistant dean in the College of Computing. Although we had spoken a couple of times and exchanged emails with reasonable frequency, I hadn't seen him since graduation, just over nineteen years past.

I half-expected to run into him at our upcoming 20^th reunion the next June, but not in an airport somewhere.

"No, thanks," I set my things down on the table. If Melanie couldn't have a drink, she'd never forgive me if I had a beer or two.

"What are you doing here?" Darren asked. He obviously had a couple of lagers in him already.

"I'm on the way to Ft. Lauderdale," I said. "Got a big Caribbean cruise coming up."

"Say, Melanie, aren't you going to Ft. Lauderdale, too?" our friend slurred. Maybe he was too far gone to put two and two together.

Melanie only gave him a half-amused nod.

"Well, here's to you, Kevin," Darren raised his half-empty glass of beer and winked. "The luckiest game designer on the east coast; that contract was mine¸ you know! And to the prettiest girl in the Class of 1991: Melanie Nakamura."