There's the Rub

My eyes drank in the vision of her: the rise and fall of her torso with the effort to catch her breath. An arm dangled over the side of the table as aftershocks rippled through her frame. Her legs were splayed unselfconsciously, revealing her sex weeping onto the fleecy table covering. I was so unmoored by her loveliness----by the ferocity of what we'd just done----that it took me a moment to realize she was crying.

I gently placed a hand on her back, wiped away some of her tears and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Eileen replied as she turned over. "Everything," she contradicted a moment later. Leaning on one elbow with her other arm draped over a raised knee, she reclined languidly, making no effort to cover or mitigate her nakedness. Even in the muted glow of the candles, I could see her skin was flushed from our recent romp.

"I needed that more than I can put into words," Eileen said as a few more tears spilled. "I needed the hunger and the admiration I see in your eyes. You make me feel beautiful. You make me feel wanted."

"I make you feel----? Eileen, you ARE beautiful. You ARE wanted; desperately so. How could you ever doubt it?" I looked down and gestured toward the spreading stain on my slacks. "I was too intent on pleasing you to get myself off. I was so turned on by you... by making love with you, that I simply couldn't help myself. Nothing like this has ever happened to me; not even when I was a teenager. THAT's how beautiful you are. THAT's how wanted you are."

I wanted to take her in my arms, press my lips to hers and pour all my passion into the kiss. As if I could persuade her with my conviction and my ardor.

I never had the chance though, because when I tried to embrace her, she planted her palm squarely in my chest, keeping me literally at arm's length.

The sun was low, pouring slanting bars of golden light through the Venetian blinds behind Eileen. The building that housed her office was small; only four stories. By this time of evening, most of the people who worked here had gone home. The sound of our breathing was conspicuous in the stillness. We each eyed the other warily as if we were bottles of nitro to be handled with kid gloves.

The little scene was interrupted by the ringing of the office phone in the anteroom. She hurried out to answer it without bothering to conceal her nudity. She probably didn't see the point. I heard her explain haltingly, "I was just putting things in order and catching up on some paperwork. I guess I lost track of the time. I'll be home soon, sweetie."

After the phone was replaced in the cradle, there was no other sound from the outer office. Finally, Eileen appeared in the doorway, face downcast and her head in her hands. "What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?" The words were hushed, but the anguish in her voice was unambiguous.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I feared an attempt to comfort might be unwelcome. I stood by awkwardly watching as she hurriedly dressed. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I needed to put on my clothes too, if she was preparing to leave.

When we were standing outside her office, Eileen locked the door and turned to face me. Every trace of serenity was absent from her face. Her eyes were haunted. "I have a thousand things I want to say, but I'm already later than I should be." She lowered her gaze, drew in a deep breath, and let out a shivery exhalation before she continued, "I'm so sorry, Geoff, but I can't do this. I never, ever thought I'd lie to Bernie. I hate the idea of hiding things from him and sneaking around. I'm simply not built that way."

She hugged herself as if she were literally holding herself together. "I never meant for this to happen. I-I... we shouldn't see each other again. I'm so, so sorry." She leaned toward me as if she were going to kiss me, then caught herself, turned away and walked down the stairwell. At the landing, she turned to look at me once more and then she was gone.

"Don't fall for me," she had cautioned, when it felt as if I were designed expressly for that purpose.

**********

The next few weeks were mercifully busy. The final exams about which I had fretted were passed without major difficulty. I hadn't yet applied for a job at any local schools. I still had time, but I was considering moving out of the area to get a fresh start. In the meantime, I swallowed my pride and disdain by working a full-time schedule at the aforementioned big box store. Regular self-reminders that it was a temporary situation served to comfort me. It was also preferable to arrive in a new venue with a few bucks in the bank.

All of this kept me occupied during the day, but not so occupied that I wasn't tormented by vivid memories and fantasies of how things might've been. As for my nights, well, suffice it to say that sleep was not in plentiful supply.

On a Saturday morning, three weeks after I'd last seen Eileen, I rose before sunrise simply because lying sleepless in bed seemed pointless. It was surprisingly cool for the last week in June. That effect was compounded by a steady, driving rain.

I'd decided to split the day between packing a few things I could do without in the short term and looking in earnest for a new area in which to live. I'd been a city boy all my life and I wondered if I might like to try a more rural environment. I was researching how long it would take to get my teaching certificate in some of these areas when my phone rang.

The caller i.d. bore Eileen's name.

I must've stared heedlessly as the device chimed maybe half a dozen times. I finally snapped out of my reverie and accepted the call.

The voice that said, "Hello" possessed the same timbre and pitch as the voice that had echoed through recent days and nights. I'd been struggling unsuccessfully to extricate it from my head and heart. And here it was, directly in my ear, speaking my name in a quizzical tone.

I replied with just a one-word affirmative and still my voice broke like an adolescent's. I cleared my throat and waited for Eileen to speak again.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"No," I replied, "I couldn't sleep, so I got up to do a few things, rather than lie there like a lump."

"I was getting no joy from The Sandman either," she said, and then, after a brief pause, she added, "I wonder if I could come and see you."

Klaxons sounded in my imagination. I knew I hadn't found the off switch--the dial or button that would turn off this ache--but if I just groped in the dark a little longer, I'd eventually lay my hands on it. I just needed time. Seeing her again would only delay the search. I understood all of that, and yet...

Rationality seemed powerless against her.

Why?

Pheromones? A fault in my synapses? I suppose if I understood that, I'd have a Nobel Prize on my mantel. If I had a mantel, that is.

After I gave her my address, she said, "I'm on my way, if you're sure that's okay."

I'll give you the standard three guesses regarding my response.

While I waited, I sat looking out at the rainfall. I had no idea what to expect, but the jitters had a hold of me. In defiance of my attempts to slow my breathing, they showed no inclination to relinquish their grip.

Despite my anticipation, or maybe because of it, I was startled when the entry buzzer sounded. I suddenly realized I was still in my pajamas. Pressing the button to let her in, I opened the door and heard the sound of her approaching steps on the stairway.

As Eileen came into view, I seemed to be completely unable to still or at least temper my jangled nerves.

When she was standing in front of me, I said, "Hi", then proceeded to peer into her whiskey-colored eyes. I barely noticed her lips curve haltingly upward.

"Oh, sorry," I finally said. "Please come in."

Even though it was full-on summer, Eileen wore a crimson sweatshirt and matching sweatpants in response to the unseasonably cool temps. She drifted over to the nearest bookcase and started scanning the shelves, brushing her fingers lightly over the book spines. Dawn's light was just sifting through my windows. Turning toward me with a smile, Eileen said, "I always wanted a look at your bookshelves." Facing the books again, she continued, "I see so many favorites from my own shelves. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, huh?"

"Speaking of surprises," I answered, "what brings you out on a rainy Saturday morning?"

Eileen knelt down and began to peruse the contents of the lower shelves. Without looking at me she replied in a small voice, "I missed you, Geoff."

I walked over and crouched beside her. "I missed you too, but has anything changed? Aren't you still with Bernie?"

Eileen's fingertips still moved languidly over the spines, though I don't think she was seeing the titles anymore. Her gaze was focused on a horizon I couldn't see.

"Yes," she responded. "I still love my husband. I couldn't leave him."

"Then why are you here? What do you want from me?" I asked.

Eileen's hand covered her mouth, her brow furrowed and tears began to spill down her cheeks. How could I not hold her? She returned the embrace, her kneeling and me crouching, while she sobbed into my shoulder.

After the outward signs of her distress had abated, I pulled her up and walked her over to the bathroom. "Splash some cool water on your face," I suggested. "It might make you feel better." Eileen wore no mascara, nor makeup of any kind, so there was no worry about that, at least. As she finished, I handed her a fresh hand towel, which she patted over her features until they were dry. Her eyes were red and a little puffy, but she seemed to have pulled herself together. For now.

"I made a mistake," she said. "I was always attracted to you, Geoff. From the start it added a little extra something to our conversations, though I was careful not to flirt. I had the sense that you were drawn to me too, but were too much of a gentleman to act on it."

I gave her a smile that implied she wasn't wrong.

"I had no business suggesting our little quid pro quo arrangement," she continued. "It was courting disaster. I truly thought I could manage it though. Which was sheer arrogance, especially when you consider what was going on in my marriage."

I put my hand in hers and guided her back out to the living room. I gestured for her to take a seat on my sofa and asked, "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

She smiled wanly. "I would kill for a cuppa joe, if it's not too much trouble."

She stood again and followed me into the kitchen, while I idly wondered what would constitute "too much trouble" when it came to Eileen. I suppose it can be exhilarating when there seem to be no clear boundaries, but it's frightening too.

As I began to grind the beans, Eileen came up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist and nestled her head on my back. I froze for an instant, like a sparrow who's just noticed it's in a tabby's sights.

I was keenly aware that Eileen blew effortlessly through any self-protective emotional barriers I'd erected over the years. What's more, she did it unconsciously, as far as I could tell.

Pouring the ground coffee into the filter, I stood otherwise still, basking in her embrace. She didn't let go when she spoke again. "I was warning you not to fall, while I was tumbling headlong myself." She paused and, for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the water boiling in the pot. When I began to pour the piping-hot liquid over the ground beans in the filter, Eileen went on, "I honestly did fight it every step of the way. I had no business though, putting either of us in that position."

I filled two mugs from the steaming carafe and asked if she wanted cream or sugar. She wanted a bit of both and luckily, they were within easy reach on the counter, because she still hadn't let go of me. And I wasn't inclined to request that she loosen her hold.

While I stirred the coffee, I was keenly aware of Eileen's hands on my belly and her face pressed to my back. Her voice--the voice that possessed such power to stir me--said simply and clearly, "I love you, Geoff."

I unclasped her hands so I could turn to face her. As she scanned my face, I told her, "I love you too."

Her expression and the way she squeezed me both implied relief. I was mildly puzzled that she ever doubted it. She had only to glance down into the palm of her hand and there she'd find me.

Taking her gently by the arm, I steered her back to the sofa, where we sat down with our coffee. "Do you know what I was doing when you called?" I asked. She took a tentative sip from her mug and shook her head.

I answered my own question, "I was searching for a new area in which to live. My thinking was that a new locale might help me find the reset button for my heart."

Eileen looked stricken. After swallowing a couple more hits of caffeine, she said, "A friend would advise you to do the same. A fresh start could be exactly what you need right now."

She glanced down into her mug, then brought her gaze back up to me and said, "I'd like to think I was your friend and yet... the thing I want most right now is for you to stay."

She blinked rapidly several times in an obvious effort to stave off tears, but her eyes were having none of that; glistening tracks soon adorned her cheeks.

She sniffled, cleared her throat and resumed, "I've been worried that you might be on the brink of drastic action. The thought has cost me no small amount of sleep."

Eileen stood, looking down at me. "I have no right to ask, but please don't go. I won't divorce Bernie, but I'll give you all of myself that I can. You deserve so much more, but I leave that choice up to you."

I was stunned. I hadn't expected anything like this, so I uttered the first thoughts that occurred to me, "The last time we were together, you were shredded by guilt. How are you planning on managing that kind of stress over time? I don't want to be responsible for making you unhappy."

"In case you haven't noticed," she said, "I'm a big girl. I know you didn't intend any disrespect, but you're not responsible for my choices or my happiness."

She continued, "Only time will tell if I... if WE are making a mistake, but I feel I have to try. I've gone around and around in my head. Eventually, I realized I'd rather wrestle with the guilt than risk losing you."

"You don't have to give me your answer today," Eileen added. "I know I've given you a lot to consider. I do, however, want to add one more thing to the lengthy list of things for you to deliberate."

In retrospect, I'm sure the pause that followed was simply a matter of her working up her nerve. When she did speak, her words were distorted by a faint tremor. "When I imagined... when I really conjured what it would be like to have you gone from my life, it left me with a terrible hollow feeling. It was then that I recognized that I'd fight to keep you if I had to. And... I won't fight fair." Her meaning became clear when she pulled her sweatshirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.

I was dazzled anew by the loveliness she revealed: the glowing complexion, the athletic shoulders and arms, the tantalizing cleavage, the soft roundness of her breasts nestled in a lacy, scarlet bra.

Eileen stepped closer, put one hand on my shoulder for support, so she could untie one of her sneakers and pull it off. She repeated the process with the other foot, dropping that shoe beside its mate. All the while, she never took her eyes away from mine. The closeness and warmth of her were electrifying, as was the intensity of her gaze.

Stepping towards the bathroom, she shucked her sweatpants, saying over her shoulder, "I woke up in the wee hours with all these thoughts whirling through my head. Finally, unable to return to sleep, I called you. When you agreed to see me, I threw on some clothes and came straight over, so I never had the chance to take a shower."

Reaching behind her, she unclasped her bra, which she dropped onto the carpet as part of a little trail of garments behind her. "You don't mind," she asked as she slid her silky panties down, "if I use your shower, do you, Geoff?"

I'm not sure if it was surprise or lust that struck me dumb, but I couldn't muster a word. Hopefulness and uncertainty were apparent in her expression and nerves still lent a quaver to her voice, rendering this--whatever this was--more endearing than a brash, Mae West-style seduction.

On the other side of the bathroom threshold, she turned to face me. I have no doubt she could read my reaction to her unclothed beauty in my expression. If not, there were other clues that my pajamas were unable to disguise.

That response may have conferred some measure of confidence because Eileen's lips formed a decidedly saucy smile. She asked, "You don't have a kitty, do you, Geoff? I mean, it seems like the cat's got your tongue, but if not... I might have a use for it."

When she stepped into the shower and turned on the water, I came to my senses and began pulling off my pajamas. My erection bounced comically with every hasty step I took on my way to the bathroom.

I climbed into the warm shower spray with her. With a little laugh, Eileen pushed my unbending cock upright against my belly, so she could pull me into her arms. The softness of her lips, the hardness of her nipples, the suppleness and heat of her body against mine, the gentle pelting of the water on our skin... what a delight for the senses.

I traced her jawline and throat with my lips, tongue and fingers. She rewarded my efforts with velvety sighs and sultry moans. I saw to it that her shoulders and collarbone were not neglected.

When I drew a tautened nipple into my mouth and let my fingers play with the other, the sounds of her pleasure echoed more forcefully off the tiles. I made a feast of her shapely breasts, laving, suckling, nipping, caressing.

"Oh, Geoff," Eileen purred, "it seems like that bad ol' putty tat has returned your tongue after all, and it is in fine fettle indeed." Placing her hand on top of my head, she pushed gently downward, murmuring, "What you're doing feels scrumptious, but I have a pressing need elsewhere."

I knelt obediently at her feet and nuzzled into her pubic hair. My tongue darted out playfully, flicking at her slit. Even over the noise of the falling, splashing water, her sighs and gasps reached my ears.

The rocking of Eileen's pelvis set the pace for my tongue. As she quickened the rhythm, so did I. Unsurprisingly, her sexsounds became more urgent. Her hand alternately ruffled and clenched my hair, sometimes pressing me more tightly to her. The water streaming over my face was joined by a warmer, creamier liquid on my tongue and chin. The piquancy of it only urged me on.

I gripped her cheeks and shifted from rapid tonguing to energetic sucking. Within seconds, she gave herself up to me, detonating into a shuddering, clenching, wailing frenzy. And I had the most glorious vantage point for all of it.

I held onto her because, for a moment, it seemed almost as if she might topple. After several heartbeats, Eileen slowly lowered herself to crouch on the floor of the shower with me. Pulling me into her arms, she rasped between panting breaths, "You, my good sir, are fucking brilliant at that. I can't tell you the last time I felt so adored."

"You are, you know..." I replied, "...adored, that is." Standing up, I turned off the water. I usually had a towel conveniently placed, but this shower was delightfully unplanned, at least by me. I stepped out onto the bath mat to fetch one from the bathroom linen closet.

I loved the simple, but loving act of toweling Eileen dry. There was a cosseting aspect of it that clearly implied my affection. It was also a cherished opportunity to appreciate every wondrous detail of her physique as I patted and caressed her with the soft terry cloth. She was noticeably enjoying the attention too.