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I don’t want to confuse great sex with the need for something more. It’s why agreeing to a friendship is a slippery slope because the more time we spend together outside the bedroom only increases the non-sexual bond.
But fuck… the sex. It’s the absolute best I’ve ever had. Just the thought of Kiera gets me excited.
She does a slow strip tease. I get excited.
Bops around the kitchen in sweatpants and a tattered T-shirt. Excited.
Wakes up in the morning with gunk in her eyes. Excited.
Every fucking thing about her pushes every button, even ones I didn’t know I had. Making Kiera orgasm has become one of my favorite hobbies. She’s an enchanting masterpiece of art when she comes and it’s the pinnacle of visual splendor.
But there’s always a distance between us that we both work hard to adhere to, based on our no-strings-attached agreement. Kiera plays it cool, just like I do. We keep the bulk of our relationship focused on sex, revealing little of ourselves unless prompted.
Lately, though, there have been prompts. Conversations where we intrude into each other’s lives, even if we only ask for a glimpse. Sometimes, Kiera reaches out to touch me in passing or as we’re sitting on the couch. A comforting graze that brings a sense of ease. There are times when I catch her staring at me… a dreamy look on her face as if she’s pondering what-ifs. And those times when we’re seeing each other after an absence. With her megawatt smile, she jumps into my arms to first give me a hard hug before a kiss. The fact that I enjoy the hug as much as the kiss is telling.
All of this mulling and wondering presents one very big question: Could I walk away from her right now? The answer is a resounding fuck no. She’s become an integral part of my life and the thought of losing her opens a pit in the bottom of my stomach.
But do I want more?
Also… fuck no. When it boils down to it, what we have right now is enough. It has to be because I truly don’t have any more to give. The only reassuring thing is that Kiera feels the same way.
We talked about it last night after she broached the subject. We were lying in bed, watching the late news. I was propped up on pillows and she nuzzled against my chest.
“Check-in time,” she announced.
I looked down but only saw the top of her head. Her tone was precise and straightforward, yet I wasn’t sure what she meant. “Check-in time?”
She nodded. “Yeah… just want to make sure this is still working for both of us. I mean, I know the sex part is working, because wow.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “But we’re definitely spending more time together than we anticipated. Is that okay?”
Okay with who? Me? Her? I wasn’t sure, so I asked, “What do you think?”
“Asked you first,” she replied.
There was a long moment as I pondered, all the same thoughts that run through my mind now as I sit here in the car, waiting to put some time between me and Kiera’s arrival. Are we going too far?
“It’s working for me,” I finally admitted, because if I said it wasn’t, there’s a good chance we’d go our separate ways. You can’t go backward. Only stay in place or move forward.
So many things were left unsaid, but she said it’s working for her, too, and that was that.
I check my watch and decide Kiera’s been in there a good ten minutes so I should be fine to enter. I don’t bother with my coat, even though it’s cold tonight, but I do a fast jog up the block to Coen and Tillie’s new house.
As soon as I step inside, I locate Kiera in the kitchen talking to some of the women. I walk through the crowd and meet up with Camden.
“Glad you decided to join the party,” he says, a smirk on his face. But he moves past me and out the door, which is weird.
I manage to ignore Kiera in the kitchen as I find a large tin tub full of beers on ice and grab one. I twist off the cap, toss it in the garbage can and walk right back out again. I circulate and congratulate Tillie and Coen. I spend time talking to Coach West and eventually end up gravitating to a group of the single guys, which is where I normally belong.
I walk in on what appears to be a debate between Kirill, Boone and Kace.
“Bain… greatest horror movie of all time?” Kace asks.
That’s an easy one. Got to go with a classic. “Psycho, hands down. It set the bar for psychological horror.”
Kirill shakes his head, a sly smile playing on his lips. “I have to go withThe Shining. Kubrick’s mastery of tension and atmosphere is unmatched.”
“Chill out, Siskel and Ebert,” Boone says with a light punch to Kirill’s chest and then looks around our group. “Ringuis the best.”
“What the hell isRingu?” Kirill asks.
