Page 20 of To Feel Like This Again
Resuming our conversation about her bucket list, I watch her curl the tip of hair and listen to the ocean crash against the shore. Sharing the last of the chicken and hard dough bread, I am under a vibe. “Let’s go for a swim.”
I expect her to ask, “Now?” or something like that. Instead, without saying a word, she stands, the towel dropping to the sand and, ever so slowly with eyes locked to mine, unbuttons her shirt and slides out of it. She pulls down her high waist denim shorts, leaving everything in a pile on the sand and then taking my hand leads the way towards the ocean. Behind us is a trail of our footprints in the sand.
In the water, she releases my hand and unties the strings of her bikini top, allowing it to fall before sliding out of her bikini bottom and throwing it far into the ocean.
Later that night (or morning to be specific), I wondered where that bikini bottom had eventually ended up.
I rip off my shirt, the buttons flying into the water, in one go drag down my shorts and underwear, allowing the ocean to swallow them up. Looking at her well-toned body, I am captivated by what I see and hungry for more. The moon is perfect, providing the right amount of light as we take each other in. Lisa slowly moves in closer and closer then jumps and wraps her legs tightly around my waist. The water swirls around us as she buries her face in my neck and whispers “My time now,” before nibbling on my ear.
That was it.
We kiss passionately, like out-of-control teenagers. Her legs are still wound around my waist as I carry her to the shore. Staggering a bit in the uneven sand we sink onto the towel that had somehow found its way near the water’s edge. With my hands at either side of her body supporting my weight, my right knee parting her legs, I lower myself on to her. Her skin is hot and at the same time cool to the touch. My hands are roughas they impatiently explore her body, my mouth following as I devour her salty skin. The water ebbs and flows near our feet and I plunge deep inside her keeping rhythm with the waves. Then, with the water crashing around us, I push harder and harder. Her nails dig into my skin. Her back arches and I feel her shudder and hear her moan before we both collapse, spent, to the roaring sound of the waves in our head.
Chapter 11
Lisa
The following morning, I fly to New York and Alex picks me up at JFK. He is, as usual, thirty minutes late, notwithstanding my three updates to him about my whereabouts. I know he will not take the time to Google the flight status, much less punch the information in an app. I probably shouldn’t be mad at him since I had changed plans at the last minute, but still, I can’t help but get annoyed. This time, however, my irritation is short-lived. I am in a great mood, the memory of the last few days at the forefront of my mind. Certainly, the weekend was the most fun I’d ever had.Ever.
“Hey honey,” he greets me as he gets out of the car. No apology for being late.
He opens the trunk, picks up my suitcase and tosses it inside.
No hug, no kiss… might as well toss me in the trunk too.
“Hey babe,” I reply reflexively.
We get into the car and as he pushes the start button, the gas indicator light appears. Typical Alex. This reminds me — his car insurance payment was due last week and your guess is as good as mine if he has paid it.
En route to my office, after making a stop to fill up the tank — with my credit card, don’t get me started — heasks the usual basic, no-effort-required-to-think, on-the-surface questions “How was your day?”
How is my fucking day I wonder. You’ve got to be kidding me, it’s barely 2:00 in the afternoon. I, literally, have just come back from another country. How about, “How was the food?” or even better “Did you try Blue Mountain coffee?”
What’s the point? Really?
“My day’s been going well. How are you doing?” — I continue to walk at level one on this treadmill we call a marriage.
While Alex drones on about completing the paperwork for a property he’s looking to buy as an investment (with my hard-earned money, of course), my thoughts cross the ocean to Nick.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, interrupting my memory of the beach. I can still feel him inside me.
“Yea, I could eat something.”
Surprise. Surprise. He stops at the same restaurant that we’ve been going to for the last two years.Same ole routine.
Again, level one on the treadmill.
I try something new on the menu, he orders the usual medium-rare steak. And while we wait for the food and mindlessly continue our unstimulating conversation, the hallmark of our marriage, my phone pings.
“Hi Mrs Davis, I hope you reached safely. Thanks again for all the career advice.”
“You’re welcome, Nick. It was my pleasure.”
“In a few months, I’ll be visiting my family inNew York. If you’re available, I’d like to continue the discussion about my career.”
“Sure. I’ll ask my executive assistant, Kelly, to check my calendar and get back to you.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
