The credits begin to roll, and Karen sits up beside me, stretching. I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened in the movie.
“What’d you think?” she asks on the walk back to the car.
“It was good,” I say, hoping that’s the right answer.
Judging by her smile, it is.
When I pull into the driveway of the single-story brick house I picked her up at, she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to me in the passenger seat, pausing with her lip between her teeth before she continues. “Tyler’s at a sleepover tonight,” she says, her hand landing on my shoulder. “I was going to open a bottle of wine if you wanted to come in.”
I would normally say no. I need to get back to the kids. But Will seemed settled in for the evening, and the last thing I want to do is face him right now, so I nod. “Sure,” I say, turning off the car. “A glass of wine sounds good.”
You know what they say about the third date.
I pick up the glass of wine Karen poured for me before she said she was going to change out of her dress, and I think, I should have known.
I walked into a woman’s house at nine on a Saturday night and sat down on her couch like we were going to watch TV, or maybe talk.
I didn’t understand what was happening until right now, remembering my daughter’s teasing words.
Jess and I started dating in high school. I never had to date as an adult, never learned the proper etiquette for when it’s an appropriate time to sleep together.
I suppose that would be now.
Karen appears in the doorway wearing much less fabric than she was when she left, and I stand up because I have no idea what else to do. She crosses the room to stand in front of me, her manicured hands finding my chest. She tilts her face up toward mine, and I tilt mine down to meet her lips and—
It’s not that it’s a bad kiss.
My hands land on her waist, and she presses closer, and it’s fine. She makes a soft sound against my lips, and it’s good.
But it’s not Will.
It’s not in an exam room with his strong hands taking what he wants without mercy until my knees are weak and all I can do is—
Stop thinking about that. He’s not here right now.
Karen leads me back until my legs hit the couch. I sit, and she only breaks the kiss to climb into my lap with a confidence that says she knows what she wants and intends to get it. Her fingers run through my hair and her lips trail from mine to my jaw, to my ear where she nibbles and—
I’m trying to get into it.
She rolls her hips, putting pressure directly against my cock, and my body responds the way it should, blood rushing down, my heart rate picking up.
She reaches back and unclasps her bra, and she’s beautiful, with full breasts and nipples a shade darker than her tan skin. When I don’t move, she takes my hands and puts them on her chest, moaning when I massage her gently.
It does feel good.
By the time she gets my pants open and produces a condom fromsomewhere, I’m fully hard. When she sinks down, I close my eyes, and my head drops back against the couch with an exhale.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt anything but my hand.
But it’s not—
I don’t feel—
I feel Karen, warm and wet, clenching around me, but underneath all of that, I feel an emptiness that makes my stomach twist.
I hold onto her tighter, and I don’t open my eyes once as the pleasure builds.
When I start to get close, I think she is too because she’s gotten louder, and when she clenches around me one final time, I follow her over the edge, spilling into the condom.
