Page 70 of Rome: The Ballerina

Maybe we haven’t progressed because we weren’t supposed to. I reasoned, soaping the towel.

I scrubbed my skin as I sat with my revelation. With the thought still at the forefront, I rinsed and washed up a second time. Once I was clean, I stood underneath the showerhead and considered my next steps.

Is this temptation?I questioned.

Closing my eyes, I began to talk to the only Man with the answers I was in search of.

Or fate?

With my hand against the shower wall, I tightened my lids together and pressed for answers.

It’s me, G. Things have gotten fuzzy. There’s another player in the game now. She’s radiant. She’s raw. She’s refreshing. And, I can’t get her off my dome. She looks like everything I am looking for in a wife. She feels like everything I need in a wife.

I just can’t help but wonder if this is temptation or fate… Am I hers? Is she mine? Because, it seems that way. The gravitational pull I’ve experienced in her presence providesevidence that I’m supposed to be in her world and she’s supposed to be in mine.

But– at what capacity?

I’m here, tangled up in this situation I’ve been in for the last three years wondering what’s next. Then, here she comes, feeling like and looking like my next move. But, there’s Aliza. I wouldn’t forgive myself for breaking her heart.

She doesn’t deserve that. While it’s true, I don’t think either of us deserves misery if that’s what our marriage will be. It was a promise– a stupid promise but one I made, nonetheless. And, I wanted to make good on it, but I’m not sure if good will come of it.

I’m confused, G. All I need is a sign. Give me a sign that the woman I’ve asked to marry me is not the woman for me and I’ll walk. Until then, I’m loyal. I’m patient. And, I’m prepared for this journey ahead with her by my side. One sign. Just one si–

The sound of the shower door opening startled me. Still, my head was bowed and my hand was pressed against the shower wall. I waited for the familiar touch. But, instead of Aliza’s hands on my back, I felt them around my dick.

Deflated, it rested against my thigh. With her attention, it began to rise. I opened my eyes to find her on her knees in front of me, prepared to unman me with her mouth.

She took me between her lips. After five years, she knew me as well as her favorite ballet position.

Fourth.

She gripped my balls with her freehand, massaging them as her head bobbed. Saliva slid from her mouth onto my shaft.

“Shiiiiit,” I groaned.

The warmth of Aliza’s mouth was grounding. Involuntarily, my lids sealed and my spine curled.

Fuck!

There she was.

Dark skin.

Pouty lips.

Mysterious eyes.

Perfect teeth.

Small frame.

Neverending legs.

Softness on full display.

Not a strand out of place.

Like a punctured balloon, I deflated.

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