I sat in the dark light of the hot tub and thought about all that I’d had and all that I’d lost. It was a Texas February, and while not as cold as the rest of the country, it was cold enough to make the hot tub and a few beers a welcome refreshment. A big, brown cockroach stepped onto the tile beside my hand and I recoiled instinctively. My move didn’t seem to bother her (most of the cockroaches you see are female – the males just follow them around trying to mate, then dying, and the females roam far and wide looking for the best place to lay their eggs) and she sat there with her antennae waving, evaluating the situation. Elizabeth did the same thing before finally going out with me. She didn’t have antenna but she took a long time evaluating the situation and evaluating me. I asked her out three times before she finally agreed.
The first time I asked her out it was just “No.”
The second time, she at least gave me the courtesy of lying, “I’m busy.”
Third time’s the charm and she said, “You don’t want to get involved with me.”
“Really? Why not?” I did want to get involved with her. She busted me checking her out, once. I sat with a view of the trip she made back to Reception every day after handing out memos and mail, and I would watch that ass and those long legs walk away. I was ogling her one day and she turned suddenly and caught me looking. She gave me a wicked grin and we both knew she caught me in more ways than one.
“Because I’m involved with someone very important here at work,” she said quietly.
Whatever. He was a call center manager, not someone “very important”. He was my boss, and hers, sure, but he wasn’t in the C-suite or anything. She was being all circumspect like it was some kind of big secret that she was fucking the boss – the married boss. Everyone in the office knew.
“I’m just asking you to go to a movie, not get married.”
She looked nervous and actually turned around to see if anyone was watching us talk. She was paranoid and she worried that this was a trap. Worried that the boss sent me to see if she’d go out with someone else so he could make her pay for it later. As if blowjobs in the storeroom and fucking in the car weren’t already payment enough. She finished her big, dramatic look around and faced me with gallows eyes.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Don’t you want a goodnight kiss?” she asked me as I was waling out her apartment door.
She’d been asking me for the last two hours if I wanted to spend the night. After we got back from dinner, after the movie, we sat on her couch and talked. She wore khaki capris, mule penny loafers, and a white button-down with the tails tied at the waist but not showing any skin because she felt fat (a year earlier she lived on one yogurt a day and barely had the energy to crawl out of bed to get it. She slept eighteen hours a day and masturbated the other six.) She did have a belly but not much of one, especially for a woman with two kids. I thought she was too skinny. Snow said she had an ass like a hatbox.
“Do you want to spend the night?” she asked as we sat on the couch.
“Do you want to fuck?”
She laughed. “Seriously, do you want to spend the night?”
“Seriously, do you want to fuck?” I wasn’t actually serious. We weren’t going to have sex and I knew it and I just wanted to go home and get some sleep.
She looked at me for a moment as if considering it. “No.”
“Then I’m not spending the night.”
She’d slipped off the mules and sat cross-legged beside me. Her fingers, lips, and toes were all the same shade of burgundy. Her camel-toe was khaki.
She had little TV with no cable and no antenna so the TV was off and we took a sex quiz from an old Cosmo she had. I didn’t pass that test and after too many questions about spending the night and an equal number of fuck denials, I was ready to split. It was Christmas Eve and it was late and I had to be at my parents’ at nine the next morning for Christmas. I said as much and was congratulating myself on how well the date went when she stopped me at the door and asked if I wanted a goodnight kiss.
Well, hell yes I do! Kissing hadn’t been part of the conversation. It had all been about spending the night or fucking. A goodnight kiss was a different matter and Snow would think it was so COOL that I’d kissed Elizabeth. Hatbox ass or not, he’d be jealous.
I turned around in the doorway and she ate me alive. Elizabeth attacked me with her tongue, her lips, her hands, and her feet. She pushed me against the wall and kissed me like D-Day. I gave back all I got and more with handfuls of ass, leg, breasts, and hair. We had to pull apart periodically to catch our breathing she would give me a weird look before pouncing again. She was like a predator with prey, checking to see if I was dead yet because it was taking longer than usual.
We spooned on our first Christmas Eve, must as His parents must have on theirs. I hope that relationship went better than ours. Elizabeth set an alarm so I could make it to my parents’ for Christmas and told me later that she was disappointed I didn’t invite her along.
Elizabeth believed that who you were with and what you were doing with them on New Year’s Eve would carry on throughout the year. She was right about us, at least. I ate her pussy until she screamed my name and she sucked my dick until I screamed hers. We fucked for the first few hours of the new year and that pretty much set the stage for the next twelve months and I thought it would last forever.
It lasted thirteen month and thirteen days.
Towards the end of us she asked about my plans for the future and how they related to her. She asked if I’d be willing to live in a pool house behind the big house where she and her rich husband would live and she could fuck me on the side. I thought she was just making conversation.
She was not.
Elizabeth married a very rich, very old man that she’d had a thing with when she was thirteen, she told me over the phone when she finally answered my calls. I didn’t move into the pool house.
So I sat in the dark light of the hot tub and thought about all that I’d had and all that I’d lost, all that she’d taken away. Suddenly, in a drunken rage of self-pity, before I could think about what I was doing, I grabbed the cockroach, popped it into my mouth, and bit down. The wiggling crunch turned my stomach and I gagged, but held my hand over my mouth, forcing myself to chew. I cried as I tried to swallow, half-puked, then fully swallowed the bitter results of bad decisions.