To Be Titled

It’s been a long time since I had a first kiss. Longer still since I’ve been with two men with only a few hours of separation. And I can barely remember the last time I fucked in a truck. But on an evening a few nights ago I experienced all three.

From a distance he could almost pass for Ian. The height, build, close cropped dark hair, slightly crooked smile… they all have a close resemblance to the Australian. Except for the eyes. Where Ian’s twinkled blue, Joe’s are a deep brown. Almost black.

This is not a new revelation. I knew Joe before I met the Australian. And after, when our paths crossed, I couldn’t help but notice the similarity.

When we met almost a decade ago he was in the middle of a separation and I in a committed relationship. But there was a spark, a rich undercurrent, the velvety tease of desire. Witty banter lead to flirting laced with thick innuendo which gave way to long looks and intentional unnecessary brushes of skin. 

Perhaps it would have gone further then, but my partner saw a texted photo from Joe. Nothing dirty. It was a simple business shot, but the fact it had been sent was enough for him to be upset. So I deleted Joe’s number, and was simply polite when our paths would cross.

Except for the occasional long look. I never gave an explanation. When the elephant in the room hasn’t been discussed, you don’t mention that it has exited stage right.

The years pass. Joe remarries. He is a father again. These things I hear in passing from mutual acquaintances. And then, several months ago I find myself in need of a professional service he provides. I have to ask our mutual aquantance to reconnect us. And there he is, once again, in my phone.

I can hear y’all now… all this backstory is keeping us from the “good” part! Get on with it Marian! Okay!

This week I needed his services again. And for the first time in almost 10 years we are sort of alone, able to talk with no one within earshot, for an extended amount of time. He looks good. VERY good. And because of the nature of my work that evening, I look better than usual myself.

The looks get more lingering. The eye contact kept for longer, and then he addressed the elephant.

“Marian, I want to apologize for all those years ago when I was going through my separation. I probably crossed a line or two and just hope there are no hard feelings.”

I looked up at him through my long, heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

“No apology necessary,” I said with a knowing smile.

“Well,” he continued, “Thank you, I appreciate that. Because I didn’t have the best of intentions.”

“Oh really?” I laughed, “Did you think I didn’t know that?”

Thrown off a bit my laugh he just shrugged.

“I know I fell off the radar back then. But there’s a reason,” I said. And then I told him about the discovered text message, the jealousy, and my decision to delete his number.

“You see,” I continued, “My intentions weren’t exactly pure either.”

With our eyes locked I saw exactly where it could have gone back then. And where it could possibly go tonight. If I let it.

7 thoughts on “To Be Titled

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