When Everything isn't Enough

He takes her hand. "Come on, let's walk some more. It will temper my temptation to strip you naked on this bench."

"And mine to help you do that," she says, only half-joking, for there's no mistaking the moistness between her legs and her desire to do something about it.

So they walk, this time with arms draped around one another, their bodies leaning and touching, their pace slower, ambling along like first daters rarely do. They head back toward the Hyatt where Jenny anticipates another tug-of-war between her moral grain and her desire, something she's beginning to dread. "I said I wouldn't do this," she says out loud.

He stops in the middle of the promenade, holding her, oblivious to the crowd swirling around them. "Jenny, you're a lovely woman, and if there's anyone else I've wanted to make love to more than you at this moment, I can't think of her. But if you're not ready, they'll be no third adjunct. We'll head back to our rooms and call it a night. There's always next time." She rests her head against his chest, loving the secure way he's comforting her, rubbing his fingers through her hair, kissing her, telling her how much he'll miss her.

"All doubts not resolved, all passion not spent," she says.

He leans back, looks at her curiously. "Couplets from a poem?"

"Sort of but in reverse. It's all doubts resolved, all passion spent. My version expresses my own frustrating dilemma."

"To indulge or not to indulge. That is the question."

"Indeed. To suffer the slings and arrows of an outraged husband or to take up arms against the sea of troubles that will surely follow by sleeping with you, doctor Walberg."

"Ah, but a consummation devoutly to be wished—to consummate with me, my fair Ophelia."

She loves the way Brayden can dive right into this kind of silly, highbrow shtick, something she knows Conrad could never do. "Devoutly to be wished, yes, but conscience doth make cowards of us all, does it not?"

"Oh, you're good, really good," he says, and then they walk on in silence until they arrive at the hotel entrance. Then, when they enter the lobby, a palatial, opulent space of glass, marble and wood, he says, "Look, you're no coward, just a woman with a conscience torn between staying loyal to her husband and sleeping with someone she meets in a bar once in a while." He gives her his room number and cell number at the elevators. "If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

They enter the elevator, then discover they have rooms on the same floor. 'Wonder if that's a sign, something meant to be,' she thinks. They both have planes to catch tomorrow, he back to Charleston, she back to Columbus. There's always 'next time' he had said, but she knows there might not be a next time. She might never see him again. She knows that could be good or bad, depending on her expectations, depending on what happens if she dares to enter his room.

Once off the elevator, he says, "Well, Jenny, I guess this is adios until next time."

She gets close to him and takes both his hands in hers. "If there is a next time. I don't assume there will be. I'll always wonder. And there's something else."

"What?"

"I wouldn't want just a one night stand with you. I'd want..." She looks down and shakes her head. "Listen to me, complicating something that hasn't even happened."

He holds her face in his hands and kisses her. Then: "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't want just a one nighter either. I like you a lot, Jenny, and I'd love to see you again, even if we don't sleep together."

She brushes away a tear, then falls into his arms, kissing him as she did on that bench, aware once again of the moistness between her legs. When she steps back against the hallway wall and he begins to dry hump her, she lifts her dress. She doesn't stop him from shoving his hand down her black lace panties, then sliding a finger inside her. Nor does she resist when he leads her down the hall to his room. She knows now that she no longer has to wonder. She knows now that the consummation devoutly to be wished is about to become a consummation devoutly to be consummated.

She enters his room, close to exploding with excitement. It's a room that looks much like hers, appointed with a queen-sized bed, covered with a thick, white and brown bedspread, sleek, wood and chrome, Danish style furniture, earth tone carpet, and a big window overlooking the water. Dusk is descending, but she can still see the people promenading and the boats. It's the same view she enjoyed from her own room, yet now she's sharing it with someone. He's standing behind her, hugging her and kissing her neck. "You smell really good, like lilacs," he says.

She turns around to meet his lips, then tucks her hands under his polo shirt and helps him lift it over his head. She brushes her face against his chest, noting the light body hairs that partially obscure his solid pectoral muscles and six-pack abs. She does this while he reaches behind her back and unzips her dress, then snaps open her bra. She's not stacked, far from it, and if his tongue action on her nipples and between her smallish boobs is any indication, he couldn't care less. She steps out of her dress and panties at the same time he slips off the rest of his clothing. Moments later, still standing by the window, she's pressing her wet pussy against his erection and kissing him with wild abandon and hearing nice things such as what beautiful skin she's got and how much he doesn't want this night to end. "We've only just begun," she says, then feels silly saying it. "Oh my, that's the name of a song, isn't it?'

He laughs, then leads her across the room and then into bed, pulling the sheets over them. When he sticks his head between her legs and works his tongue over her clit and labia, it sends her into near delirium. Moments later, she climaxes, nearly passing out in the process, then almost demands that he make love to her. "I almost forgot something," he says, and starts to get up for what she assumes correctly are condoms.

"No need, I'm covered," she assures him, then spreads her smooth, shapely gams and guides him inside her. "You're better than wonderful, Brayden," she manages to say, before any words she might wish to add get lost in a gaggle of sounds, not printable but recognized by anyone regardless of native language.

"Jenny, if I live to a hundred, I'll never forget this night," he says. His words echo her sentiments and become more meaningful as the night wears on. They change positions, trade tender whispers and just hold each other as darkness descends over the capital. Nothing, she thinks, could spoil this evening. But then something does—a phone call from Conrad. She grabs her cell from the night table, glares at the number on the screen and debates whether to answer. Brayden nods, gives her the go ahead.

She struggles not to cry, hearing Conrad inquire how her "Power Point thing" went and how much he misses her. "Tomorrow night at this time you'll be back," he says. "Looking forward to it. I really miss you, honey."

She chokes back sobs and he asks if she's okay. "Sure, Connie," she says, "just missing you, too."

She cries in Brayden's arms after clicking off. He does his best to soothe her, tells her he understands. "I've been there," he says. "But you don't have to tell him. What happened here can stay here and never happen again if that's what you want."

She wipes her eyes and blows her nose. Her face is red from crying as she rests her head on her lover's chest. "I don't want to stop seeing you. Obviously, I don't want to hurt Conrad either." He nods and kisses her and then she says, "This is what happens when everything you always wanted isn't enough. You grab for more and end up twisting your life into knots."

She manages to grab a few hours sleep. Come morning, she awakens with what she calls an "emotional hangover." They breakfast together downstairs, pack and say their farewell in the lobby, replete with tight hugs and long kisses. On the plane, she misses Brayden already. They had agreed to keep in touch and to see each other again the next time they're in DC. In only a couple hours, she'll be face to face with Conrad. She'll tell him again how well her presentation went, what the food was like, what a fine hotel the Hyatt is, etc. Then, later on, after she puts her kids to bed, she'll try to figure out what the hell her life is all about.