I was drunk. Okay, let’s try that again. I wanted to. I’d been wanting to for a while, actually. To stray. To step out, as my friend calls it when he does. To get out of comfort zones. Funny how the term “comfort zone” is thrown around implying something sucky. Yet stepping out is what really brings forth sucky things (I didn’t mean that pun).
She stood there. No. She swayed. Slowly. Gently. Inviting. Luring. Bag of tempts. A plain Jane to most. Shiny to me. She sent the waitress over, with my drink perfectly mixed. Double shot of Jack Daniels, coke, ice cubes dancing in the glass. Sexy. I raised my glass at her. A faint smile greeted me. And that was that. She rebutted my glances the rest of the night. Did I do something wrong? I wondered. I couldn’t have. I never do. Or so I believe? And right then, I knew who was the one sporting a bra that night.
4am. I said a quick hi and bye to some person on my way out, then I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. There she was, eyes peering with mine. I opened the passenger door. She held my hand for a long second, and got in.
That was December. Ordinarily I wouldn’t recall. But for the trip to the doctor like the one I had this morning; But for the kinda talk I just had with doc. But for unprotected sex.
I’m positive.
I was lonely. There is a thin line between side-chic and hopelessly-in-love chic. I crossed over without ever knowing when it happened. Horny became needy real quick. Now he wasn’t returning my calls, no more late night creeping at the office after hours. He brought his wife in to meet the team a couple of weeks ago. All I could think about was him wiping it off her lips and smearing it on her skin with his kiss. I threw up lunch and possibly every other attempted meal thereafter.
So that night, I was out to make my debut as a single woman. Instead, I felt like a widow. I had a couple of shots and pretended to enjoy the music. Soon enough, my body came alive with the memory of the pleasure of pressure on places that he.. you catch my drift. I was wet with anger. That’s when I spotted my fate at the bar. He reminded me of him, the ring even. No beard though. Still, close. I bought him a drink. Too bold. Too bold. I panicked, retreated. At least he smiled. I had been out of the game too long.
A couple of hours later I was ready to leave. I felt spent, a little humiliated and I wanted to be held. The bottle of Jack at home would help. As I was leaving though, I noticed him ahead of me at the parking lot. Broad shoulders. My hand reached out. Warm brown eyes looked steadily into mine. Sealed, signed and delivered.
It’s March now. Great view of the city from my new office. Tests strewn all over my desk. For unprotected sex that one time, I refuse to have a conversation with my doctor. For my single act of emancipation.
It’s positive.
(Loise and Brucey, 3.0)
Brucey 