“Like hell it is!” He yells and I can feel his friends eyes shifting to us. “I just find it intriguing how you have plans all night into the middle of next week. Plans you have to recover from.”
Oh, boy. Oh, he is so cute when he’s acting like an idiot. “I don’t believe you’d find my plans interesting at all.”
“Oh, Rio, I don’t care what you’re doing, but I’d like to know with whom are you doing things. All night. Because I don’t recall being invited anywhere.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s jealous, but I know better. He’s horny and wants to pick a fight so we can furiously rip each other’s clothes off like it usually happens. Not this time.
“Zach, it’s my aunt and uncle’s thirtieth wedding anniversary. They’re flying in, and Paris is throwing a party. It doesn’t seem like your kind of event.”
Wendy clapped her hands joyfully and cut into the conversation.
“Oh, my God, thirty years? That’s so adorable. I hope you guys are planning something big.”
“Actually, it’s more than a party. It’s a wedding.”
“Aw, London, that’s beyond romantic.”
“Yeah, they never had an actual wedding, so this is our gift to them. When Uncle Pedro meet Aunt Jacqueline, they were both working on a cruise ship that was sailing between Miami and Cuba. They got married in a fifteen-minute ceremony on the lower deck of the SS Santa Clara. My aunt always said it was the most romantic day of her life, but we know she’s a sucker for weddings, so we’ll be giving her one, white dress and everything.”
Now both Wendy and her wife let out an, ”Aww” and James gives me a warm smile.
Aunt Jackie’s love story has charmed souls since I can remember, so there is no surprise there. But it doesn’t seem powerful enough for Zach who is still frowning deep enough to leave a permanent line on his forehead.
“Zach, there’s gonna be a lot of friends and family, I would have to present you...you really think you’d like to go?”
“No!” He snaps and starts reading the newspaper that has been sitting in his lap for a while now.
“Ok.”
Bang. The newspaper is slapped on the table and he turns to me. There is no winning with this guy.
“We need to go. I have a consult.” Zach gets up, dragging me with him by my wrist, and we start marching through the hospital and don’t stop until we reach the door for the cardiology locker room.
“Get inside.”
We’re definitely not here for a consult. A shiver goes through me remembering the last time I set foot here. Night zero, when he shattered the sky with the most powerful orgasm known to man.
He walks in behind me, slams the door, and puts his fist into it, making me jump.
“What’s gotten into you, Zach? What the hell?”
“Do you enjoy playing games with me?”
“Do I enjoy...? Oh, oh, no I’m not doing anything, big guy. You are the one who tries to find a reason to kick and scream. I thought we were past this.”
I put my palm on my forehead and rub it to try and release the pain that shoots through my head. I’m really tired of taking his hits. I can take crap from my jackass boss, but the man I’m sleeping with? No.
“I see, I’m the bad guy. I’m the one who deliberately told you I might fuck someone else next week?”
“What?”
“That’s what people do at weddings, London, so who are you taking? I swear to God if you even think about saying Shaw, I’ll skin him with a ten blade.”
So now I’m a whore again. How cute, we have made a full circle.
“Emmy is not going anywhere with me. I’m going alone!”
“Emmy? Stop calling that piece of shit Emmy.”
“Stop, Zach! Just stop.” I put my hands out in defense, trying to catch my breath. I need a second to...I need him to shut up.
“You’re going alone?”
“YES! And even if I had a date it wouldn’t mean I’d be sleeping with them. How about we talk again when you stop thinking about me like I’m the cheapest prostitute in town?” I shake my head and turn to walk out, but he catches me at the last moment and glues my back to the door.
“I don’t think that, I’m sorry.” His apology does absolutely nothing, I’m too angry with him.” Hey, babe, look at me. I’m sorry, I’m just pissed you didn’t even consider asking me to go with you.”
“Of course I didn’t, Zachary. First, I was concerned you’d throw a banana bag at me for even having the nerve to suggest it. I never know with you and your mood swings. And second, this is an intimate gathering. How am I supposed to bring you as my date when I don’t even know how to describe you? Are you the boss I’m screwing? My friend? My lover? What is this? You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. It’s been a few weeks since we started sleeping together, and it’s been good for most part . We talk, he’s funny, he sometimes cuddles for a while, but I’m no naive girl who looks for gold where there’s only sand. Zach is not mine, and he probably never will be. There is a lot of good sex between us, but not much of a connection.
...At least not on his part.
Sometimes I fall into that fantasy and believe we actually have something to hold onto, but then reality hits when I ask him something simple like ” Where have you been?” or ” What are you doing today.” and he tells me to mind my business. The message is clear: if we are not naked, it doesn’t concern me. So I never wanted to ask this because I know the answer will slap me across the face.
“We’re...I don’t know, London. And why is it anyone’s business? We fit well; we have a good thing going . You rock my world every time you ride my dick, I make your head spin every time you ride my face. It’s our own thing. So, you can tell your friends and family I’m Zach from work, or Zach, a fling, or Zach, master of the bedroom. I don’t care. Tell them I’m your husband if you have to.”
My mouth hangs open and I get mushy in his arms. I feel like someone just pumped sedatives into me.
“I’d love to have you there with me, if you want.”
“And I’d love to go.” His lips touch my neck, soft like feathers.
“Good.” My voice is breathy, and I circle his neck with my arms pushing him deeper into my skin. Every time he touches me it’s like the world resets its equilibrium.
“Good.”
Slowly he travels down to my cleavage leaving a trail of heat behind him.
“Should we get back to, umm, work?”
“Hell no. Lock the door, baby.”
I fucked her until the shape of her hips was printed on the locker door.
She cried my name and begged, sometimes to go faster, sometimes to go slower, and I enjoyed every second. She’s fucking me up in my head.
That day, what I said, and the core shaking orgasm after, has made me avoid London like Satan avoids holy water for the past five days. We only saw each other at work, and I volunteered for overtime at the free clinic. She can’t accuse me of not being a workaholic, so it worked. There were a few kisses here and there, some groping, but that’s all. I needed time to wash her off me because I was starting to feel London was too close. She was at my work, and at my house. I can see her on my couch, bed, kitchen counter. She is too close to be in my fucking blood.