George runs a bath, and we soak our weary bodies while the thunder rumbles and monstrous evergreens bow to the wind.
I’m purposely sitting on the other side of the tub, trying to maintain the pretense of bathing. But our feet are dancing together, the first dissenters in this charade.
I cross the tub, positioning myself on his lap, my thighs braced on either side of his. We get lost in kissing. I kneel above George, and he takes his time with my breasts. I run both hands through his hair, tugging on the curls, as he sucks and pinches.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasps. “Right now. Say the words.”
“I want you to touch me.”
“Here?” His thumb brushes over the spot that’s crying for friction, and my thighs shake.
“Yes.”
“Ask me nicely,” he says with a little smirk. “And I’ll do it again.”
George will push me, and I will push back. It’s a pattern I know well.
“George,” I say, looking him in the eye. “Do that again. Please.”
He does it again, watching me, biting his lip.
“More,” I tell him.
He pushes two fingers inside me, and my back bows. George brings me to the very edge, but then he stands, lifting me onto the edge of the tub. He places two hands on my knees, spreadsmy legs wide, and bends his head. George likes spending time between my legs, and he’s very good at the job. When I tell him that, he makes a satisfied groan and strokes himself while he finishes his work. The sight of it has me falling apart.
“When do you think we’ll stop?” I ask as I slide back into the water. “When do you think it will feel like enough?”
He kisses me. “Never.”
• • •
That night, welie in bed together, our hands clasped between us.
“Are you happy?” I whisper.
“No.Happyis too weak a word for how I feel.”
I feel my smile in every part of my body. This is what it’s like to truly cherish someone, I think. Everything I’m feeling is heightened because I know George feels it, too. His joy becomes mine. And his sorrow.
“I never imagined it would feel like this,” he says. His skin is pale blue in the moonlight, his eyes wells of glistening black.
“What?” I ask, my hand falling into his hair.
“Us.”
I can’t believe we could have been doing this for years. But then I think about what Mimi said the other day.
George needed to stretch his wings, to find his own place in the world. Same as you.
Maybe now is the exact right time.
“How will it be?” I whisper. “After you come back from Mexico.”
“How do you want it to be?”
“Just like this.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “How would you feel about moving into my place? If it’s too fast, that’s okay,” he hurries to add.
