Highland Park texted me yesterday and asked if I wanted to have lunch today. I wrote back that I could not have lunch but could meet him for a cup of tea in the afternoon. I had low expectations that he would show up; he is infamous for canceling last minute, but when I checked in with him on my way home, HP said he was still ready to go.
I tried acting nonchalant when he walked through the door, but he was wearing a light blue sweatshirt that matched his pale blue eyes, and my knees became too weak to hold me as I fell into his arms.
We stood in my doorway, holding each other, and then we kissed.
I pulled him inside. I offered him tea. We talked on the couch. I curled up on his chest. We kissed again. I pulled him into the bedroom, asking him to lay down with me, next to me. He said he would and did. Damn, it felt good to lay next to his body like that, simply breathing.
He gets up on one arm and looks at me like he loves me, like he cares, deeply.
He kisses my forehead. He looks concerned.
His eyes tell me so much, but he says so little.
Finally, he tells me that his wife came to him about a week ago and said she wouldn’t mind if he wanted to sleep with me again, that she thought I could use it.
I cried, filled with mixed emotions, how generous, how thoughtful how???
I want him so badly, and we have a green light, total GO time.
But what about the repercussions???
We discuss it briefly.
Both trepidatious about hurting anyone, especially each other. No damage caused. That is my motto.
I ask him why he waited so long to tell me.
He said he wasn’t sure I would want to, given the circumstances.
Oh. I want to.
I go for it.
I am comfortable with regret, at this stage.
We make love.
Fuck it feels so fucking good.
To be touched and held like that.
He comes fast. I do not.
We lay there naked together, afterwards, breathing, side by side.
I love his skin.
His smooth Irish skin.
He takes his time leaving.
He doesn’t want to go
I don’t want him to go.
We love each other.
But to what end?
There is no future here.