Page 3 of Choosing the right Man

His hands traveled down my back, getting lower with each pass. He rubbed the curve of my butt, and I felt moisture in my core. My insides swelled, and better yet, tingles heated me. He stretched over me, and I felt his arousal pressing against the crack of my ass. This was good. It felt good — not great — but good.

Ah, finally he pushed inside of me while his hands gripped my hips. Paul doesn’t normally last very long, so since we hadn’t had sex in a long while, I figured a few strokes and he was going to explode. That was okay because he’s a master at oral sex. He never leaves me hanging... when we finally do have sex.

Unlike a lot of men, he’s always made sure I’m satisfied even after he’s done. I wanted him penetrating me. I wanted to feel his hardness stroking the walls of my core, hitting deep inside me. We’re a perfect fit — or so I always believed.

When a minute went by and he was still moving at a steady pace, I was impressed, yet a little confused. It had been a solid month since we’d last had sex, and he should’ve been explodingwith the first stroke. I stopped thinking about that — why bitch about a good thing?

When five minutes went by and he was still going strong, I began to worry. Even in the best of times after we’ve had sex for a few days in a row, he doesn’t last a full five minutes. I’ve been with the man for nine years. I know the kind of lover he is.

He pushed me flat against the bed and gripped my hips, pushing me together, making the area tighter. I’ve always hated when he does this as it makes me feel like he can’t get off anymore without help. Several more minutes went by, and he finally shook on top of me, let out a groan of pleasure, and collapsed against my back.

I was so worried about why it was taking him so long that I lost all of those tingly sensations, and I was no longer in the mood to come. He offered, but I told him I wasn’t feeling well. He was kind and understanding, and he lay down so I could snuggle up against him and go to sleep.

I was restless all night and woke up several times. Around two in the morning, I awoke and he wasn’t in bed. I got up to use the bathroom and found him masturbating in the shower, his head hung down, his fist pumping fast and hard while he groaned.

Now there was no way for me to deny there was a real problem. I used the bathroom, and that’s when I figured out he hadn’t even come with me. He’dfakedit. We all hear of women faking, but my boyfriend was a master faker. The fact that there was no evidence of his orgasm in me proved he hadn’t come. Even if most had flowed back out, there was alwayssomeleft. I knew he didn’t come. I knew we were in trouble.

So again, I say to you, I understand why people cheat. Do you still think I’m a horrible person for saying this? That’s okay, there are many people in the real world who are far more like me than like you. We’re all very good at hiding our dark secrets behind closed doors. We’re all very good at only showing thebest side of ourselves and the best part of our lives. We’re all very good at lying.

I’m well aware of how far a person can fall. But by falling, we may accidentally discover we are now able to soar. I’m ready to fly. I just have to let go of my old life in order to do that. I haven’t cheated... I’m only saying I understand why it happens.

Are we stuck? Are we happy? Are we — are we who we’re meant to be? I guess that’s what we have to find out. That’s the point of this story.

Chapter Two

Chloe

I enter the twenty-story high-rise, shaking off the moisture from the rain, knowing I look like a drowned rat as I enter the elegant lobby, my heels clicking on the marble floors. I head straight for the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief when I look in the mirror, grateful I don’t look as bad as I envisioned.

I pull out my brush and fix my hair as best I can, grabbing some cosmetics and touching up my makeup. I’m not perfect, but at least I’m presentable. Walking out, I hold my head high as I approach the security desk, presenting my temporary ID.

They give me access to the twentieth floor where I check in, get my permanent badge, and move forward, excited to begin my new job. I’ve never worked on the highest floor of a building before. It’s frightening but also incredibly exhilarating.

Thunder cracks and the lights flicker as I ride the elevator up, the music glitching. I’m not worried. This might not be my dream job, but since I’m not sure what my dream is, that doesn’t really matter. I’m here, and this unexpected new position pays well. Hopefully the people I work with will be great, and I’ll love coming to work.

I don’t love being at home, so the thought of being a stay-at-home mother isn’t as appealing as it once was. I know someday I’ll have to decide whether to have children or not, but I push the thought from my mind. I have plenty of time to contemplate the rest of my life.

From the moment I step off the elevator onto the luxurious twentieth floor, I’m blown away. Soft classical music plays at a perfect volume. Plants are strategically placed in a comfortable seating area where several people stand, sipping coffee in their expensive business suits. I immediately feel underdressed even though I’m certainly not in rags. How did I manage to get recruited for a position like this? I don’t fit. I push this thought aside as it won’t get me anywhere. If I believe I belong, maybe, just maybe, I can fool those around me into thinking I do.

I bought my sleek pants and jacket from Nordstrom Rack... but on clearance. I’m sure my outfit is outdated in this chic world of movers and shakers. I shake off the feeling of not fitting in, but my hair’s still damp from the storm, and every person in this building looks impeccable. I’m out of place no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise.

A part of me wants to turn around and run. What have I gotten myself into? This is a great job, and it pays more than any job I’ve had before, but what if they take one look at me and realize they’ve made a mistake?

I’m half turning when the woman at the front desk looks up and gives me a friendly smile. It seems like a real expression, not that typical customer service smile so many wear throughout the day that grows increasingly more dim as the hours roll on. She actually seems happy to help me.

“You must be Chloe,” she says as she stands.

I clutch my perfectly acceptable bag against the side of my body. It’s large enough to carry my wallet and keys, along with the papers HR told me to bring. But it’s stylish. So what if Ibought it at the outlet mall? I was thrilled to find it... two years ago. What am I thinking? The women in this room carry Gucci purses and wear Jimmy Choo shoes I’m positive aren’t two or three years old.

“Yes, I’m Chloe,” I say, hating the slight doubt in my voice as if I don’t even know my own name.

“Great. I’m Jenny. I’ll be showing you around and getting you settled,” she says, her smile not faltering. She chooses to ignore my nervousness as she comes around the desk. “Follow me.”

I have little choice but to do as she says unless I want to go running and screaming from the building. There’s still a slight chance I may do just that. She chats with me as she goes to the elevator, and we ride to the nineteenth floor, make our way down a long carpeted hallway, then enter another beautiful area.

It’s divided into sections with several doors, one says HR, one appears to be a locker room, another a break room. She chuckles when she sees the confusion on my face.

“I love when new people start,” Jenny says.

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