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I knew Jacqueline was keen. She was gorgeous too, everything I liked in a woman, smart and pretty, a good sense of humor. We drank wine, ate some food, finished it with dessert. I took her back to my place and watched her take off her clothes, doing a bit of striptease for me. She had a great body, lean and tight, not an ounce of fat on her. Her skin was tanned, even all over, she was perfect in every way.
When I kissed her in bed, she felt wrong somehow, though.
I found myself thinking of Evie, whose mouth had been so soft, the lips untouched by the plastic surgeon’s needle.
My phone rang.
I pulled back. “Just a second,” I said, filling my voice with regret.
I leaned over to answer my phone.
“Okay,” I said. “So run it by me slowly again, when you entered the code, what popped up?” I got out of bed, walked over to the window, unbothered by the fact that I was naked. I looked out of the window, could see the waves breaking in the dark.
“Yes, okay, and then what?” I said, impatiently, as if I was talking to some developer in the middle of a crisis. In fact, the line was dead, I was talking to an empty line.
I had set up a call via an app I had, in caseI’d wanted an out. It came in handy every now and then. If things worked out with Jacqueline, then I’d ignore it, but if I wanted an out, this was a convenient way to do that.
It was working.
Behind me, I could hear Jacqueline getting out of bed and putting on her clothes.
I turned around to look at her, miming my regret and putting my hands together as if begging her to forgive me.
“Yes, yes,” I said, pretending to listen to someone on the line again.
She snuck out of the room as soon as she was dressed and I took a shower as soon as I saw her getting into a taxi and going home.
I turned on the hot water and closed my eyes, thought of Evie in her starched work shirts, her firm thighs and how she squeezed them around me. I grew hard very fast, gasping with pleasure as I fucked her again, in my mind, in the corner of the elevator lobby.
Afterwards, I send Jacqueline a message saying I was sorry about the evening, that we should reschedule.
Then, I thought of ways of seeing Evie again.
Once wasn’t enough.
That much was clear.
I needed more.
I was sure Evie felt the same way.
She’d enjoyed it as much as I had, of that I was certain. The way she’d moved with me, moaned when I thrusted, there was a synchronicity to our movements that didn’t happen often.
It didn’t mean anything, of course.
It was just an itch that needed to be scratched, properly.
Then I’d be able to move on, as before.
I wondered how I would share this information with her, make a joke about it even, how we maybe didn’t get it right the first time because I’m still thinking about it and would like to put an end to the whole thing? It could work, I thought.
Could have worked, I should say.
Because then Evie’s boyfriend came and ruined everything. I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone. But when I got to work the next day, there was a gigantic bouquet of roses, completely over the top, sitting on her desk. She’d gone out to get coffee for my meeting and I peered among the petals for a card. I found one, it only said: Thanks for a beautiful night x.
That little x, the kiss, gave it away.
I knew she was seeing someone last night. As she’d left my house, I heard her on the phone, her voice quite altered, not like when she talked to me at all. It was more relaxed, playful even. She said she was looking forward to seeing someone later and clearly, it had gone well.
