I Walk Away

Back in 2006 I started writing a series of short stories as ideas and characters popped into my head. Most times it was a vague scene I had to flesh out on paper that finally turned into something readable. Below is one such snippet that I found while rearranging my office. I've edited it a bit but for the most part this is how I wrote at that time. Enjoy!

Each step I took away from his door was slow and deliberate, as if the sound of my footsteps might trigger within him a desire to keep me at all costs.

"This is it," he said.

The raw emotion in his voice announced the finality of that statement. We'd spent ten wonderful months together, but now it was completely over. I didn't bother arguing or asking any tearful questions. I already knew why and knew there would be no second chances. She had won and didn't matter what I did to or for him. He would always want her more.

I'd met Daniel at my sister's annual Fourth of July picnic and we spent the entire day flirting. I'd been single for over a year but he was newly separated from his wife of five years.

"We just couldn't work it out," he'd said.

I did my best not to pry into his past. I wanted him to forget about it, forget about her, and move on in my general direction.It has been a long time since a sexy guy like him had shown a genuine interest in what I had to offer. I was more than excited. I was lustful.

We kissed beneath the fireworks and he explored my body with a sense of apprehension. I felt the hesitation as his hands moved over me. I remember thinking, it's the memory of his wife. At the time I actually found it endearing. His face betrayed his guilt as he undressed me, but it didn't slow him down.Once I began peeling off his clothes all else faded away. It felt so good having a man inside me again, I didn't consider the consequences.Each thrust held an urgency in him that added to my pleasure, but almost seemed to cause him pain. He came quickly and collapsed on top of me in drunken exhaustion.

"Are you all right?" I asked, not particularly concerned with the answer.

He simply nodded, and I realized he was crying.

Thinking back on it, I realize his tears are what sealed my fate. I simply couldn't let him go with such a guilty heart. I held him for a while as the fireworks continued overhead. We remained hidden amongst the blooms within my sister's vast gardens. When the last sparkle faded from the sky and darkness finally returned, we dressed slowly and didn't face each other for long moments. 

"I enjoyed that," he finally said.

"So did I, but perhaps we should try a bed next time," I said with a smile.

The relief on his face almost made me laugh. He agreed and followed me home in his own car.

The next two hours were spent in such pleasure, even thinking about it now gets me hot. His strong hands moved slowly over my sweat-dampened skin as I lay panting and begging for more.

"Please, please, don't stop," I said...more than once.

He complied by running his tongue up my stomach and between my breasts. I grabbed his hips in both hands, impatient for his erection as he playfully teased my throbbing lips with the tip.

"Please, please..."

I begged for it. I cried for it. Finally I screamed for it and he thrust into me almost violently. I climaxed instantly and he moaned.

"Oh, you are so fucking sexy."

It was the only time he ever called me that.

Sex was always so good with him. I'd never had an orgasm every time with any man before and probably never will again. Is that what I'll miss the most? Perhaps. Or maybe it'll be the way he would wake me by kissing the tip of my nose. Maybe it'll be the flowers he brought every time he came to my apartment. Perhaps it'll be his scent on my pillow. I don't know. Time has a funny way of twisting things sometimes so the memory of what I liked most turned into what I began to hate. He will always be there though, in the back of my mind, calling to my heart despite my efforts to silence him. No matter how quickly I walk away, or how far I go from his doorstep, I'll always want him. I will always know that for a brief time, I was the other woman.

I Walk Away

Copyright August 24, 2011, MISSY JANE

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not construed to be real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely incidental.

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