MICHELLE
Showered? Check.
Shaved? Check.
Matching bra and panty set? Check, check.
About to have sex with a guy I just met? Checkity, check, check, check.
As soon as I told David he could come by tonight, I knew I was going to sleep with him just like I knew I would have had sex with him on the hood of his car if the cop hadn't shown up last week. Sure, good girls don't sleep with strange men on second dates, a fact I've reminded myself of at least a million times in the last three hours. But, I've been good and done what's expected of me my entire life and it certainly hasn't gotten me very far. Besides, I stopped being a girl a long time ago. I'm a woman, as Lexi made sure to point out, and I should base my decisions on what I want and not what I think is expected of me.
"You look pretty, Momma." Claire scoops a spoonful of macaroni and cheese into her mouth.
"Why, thank you, Bear." I pick and poke at my dinner with my fork. "You look pretty, too." She does, too. The sun streaming through the window behind her catches in her blond hair and it shines almost as bright as her smile. How can I regret anything in my life when every bad choice I made led up to her?
"Is your tummy upset?" she asks, tilting her head to the side.
"Nope. Not even a little. Why do you ask?"
Claire points at my dinner. "You aren't eating."
I stare at my plate. She's right. I haven't taken more than a few bites. "I'm excited about something," I say as I load up my fork with grilled chicken. "My tummy gets a little jittery when I'm excited."
Claire nods knowingly—a trait that I find adorable because how can she really know anything after just five short years of experience?—and chatters away as we finish dinner. For as many times as my mind wanders to David, I pull my thoughts right back to the here and now. It doesn't matter how nice it is to lose myself in thoughts of him, Claire deserves my undivided attention. If I have anything to do with it, my daughter will go her whole life and never know what it means to be invisible.
After dinner, she drags the stool out of her bedroom and dries the dishes after I wash, stacking them carefully in the strainer beside the sink. After her bath, I tuck her into bed and read her a chapter of Tailchaser's Song. The book is too old for a five-year-old, but she loves it anyway. I paraphrase a lot of the scary parts and explain the big words when she's confused. She's a smart kid with a curious mind and I do my best to feed her the knowledge she craves.
As her eyes grow heavy, I speak slower and quieter until she drifts off to sleep. I slip a bookmark between the pages and carry the book out of her room, sliding it back in its place of honor on the shelf in the living room. The first time I read this book, I was nine and was so proud of myself, I scrawled my name and the date inside the cover in my haphazard print. One day, I'll give this book to Claire and she can add her name beneath mine after she reads it herself for the first time.
The moment the book is back in its place, all the thoughts I’ve been holding back of David hit me at once. The brush of his lips against mine. The vibrancy in his eyes when he smiles. The way my whole body answers when he laughs. The need that rose up from some unexplored place inside me when I felt his hard cock digging into my stomach last weekend. I have never considered myself a sexual person. Sex just doesn't do it for me. I'm sure I'd love it if I was a man, since an orgasm is just about guaranteed. But as a woman? We can't expect much more than a lot of mess and discomfort for not a lot in return.
However, simply standing next to David awakens something in my body that I am curious to explore. A tightness in my belly. An awareness of him. A desire to let go of all the parts of myself I hold so tightly. I want to understand what this feeling means. Desperately. Maybe, just maybe, sex with David won't leave me wanting more. I swipe my phone off the end table, flip it open, and send him a text.
Me: Claire's asleep if you still want to come over.
Mr. Wonderful: Do you want me?
Hell yes I want you. And that's saying a lot because I never want anyone.
I chuckle at the thought as I compose a less-honest text.
Me: Definitely.
I wouldn't call it poetry, but he can read between the lines if he wants to and see what I'm not brave enough to come out and say. At least I'm not putting it all out there. Or maybe I should put it all out there. Maybe I'm too reserved. Maybe I need to let it all go. Stop wondering what's expected of me and just go with what my body craves. And, oh my goodness does my body crave him. The phone buzzes in my hand, interrupting my thoughts.
Mr. Wonderful: Good. OMW
I stare at those words, a smile starting in my toes and working through my body. Seven of the longest days of my life have passed since I last saw him and if we've been awake, we've been in contact. The thought of being next to him again is a good one indeed. I check my makeup and fluff my hair in the mirror and am in the process of rearranging the flowers he brought me last week when a light knock at the door sends my heart into a panic. I smooth my hands over my dress and cross the living room to pull it open and find David standing in the pale light of my porch light, looking delectable in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt that hugs his arms and chest like a second skin.
"Well look at you, darlin'. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" David speaks quietly, as if he understands the sound of his voice might be enough to wake Claire. He holds out his hands, a bottle of wine in one, and two wineglasses in the other. "I come bearing gifts."
Oh, you're going to come alright.
The thought surprises me and I suppress a giggle. Maybe I've been hanging around Lexi too much and her no-holds-barred attitude is wearing off on me. And maybe that's a good thing. Living life unfiltered might be relaxing. Or not. Who knows who I'll alienate if I start saying all the things that bounce around in my head out loud.
"Thank you," I say, when what I want to say is that seeing him is gift enough. I stand aside and gesture for him to enter. "I thought we could sit out on the back porch, if you don't mind. It's a nice night and Claire's room is on the other side of the house." Whispering makes me feel like an intruder in my own home, but the last thing I want is to wake up my little girl and figure out how to explain what Kitty Daddy is doing here.
"Sounds almost as perfect as you look in that dress," he replies.
I lead him through the living room to the back door off the kitchen. "I do have wine glasses, you know." I shrug and smile over my shoulder as I unlock the door. "You didn't have to bring them."
"Sure," says David. "But these are special."
"Special?" They look like ordinary wine glasses to me.
"Yep. I bought them just for tonight. To commemorate our second date."
I swing open the door and give him a look. "Is a second date really something to commemorate?"
"With you it is," he says and holds the door open with his foot, gesturing for me to lead the way.
The silken night air caresses my cheek and lifts my hair from my shoulders as I step outside. Crickets chirp away as if to welcome us as David steps out onto the rickety deck and I light the candles I placed on the railing earlier today.
"This is nice," he says, setting the wine and the glasses down on a small table and pulling a bottle opener out of his pocket with a flourish and a wink.
"That's because it's dark out." I sigh. "This yard has a lot of potential, but the work has gotten away from me." I never would have brought him out here in the daytime. The only thing this yard has going for it is the privacy fence. The way the house and yard are situated, that fence keeps my backyard invisible to my neighbors. I could do anything back here and no one would know.
Everything else has gone to hell over the years. The little pine bushes near my bedroom window that were so cute and polite when we first moved in are now so overgrown that I can't cut them back without killing them completely. Which I'd be fine with except I don't have the time or strength to deal with removing them by myself and the woman I rent the place from isn’t interested in doing the work either. Walking out onto the deck with bare feet is sure to earn you splinters. The wood is untreated and in need of some serious love. The trees need trimming, the shed is falling in on itself. The list goes on and on, and it's so much more than I can handle on my own.
David uncorks the wine and pours us each a glass. "I took a chance," he says, handing one to me. "I hope you don't mind Shiraz."
"I've never had it before." I sniff at the wine and take an experimental sip. "It's good," I say, holding up the glass in a mock salute before taking another—longer—drink.
"Yeah, but you're so polite, you would say you liked it even if you didn't."
"That is so not true." At least I don't think it is. Although, on second thought, maybe I am prone to doing exactly that.
David makes a face. "Don't worry," he says. "I'll cut through all the BS and find the real you before you know it." With anyone else, the comment would offend me. With David, it makes me feel seen.
"Would you like to sit down?" I ask, falling back on my manners and gesturing towards one of the cheap plastic chairs I cleaned off this afternoon.
"Actually, no." David reaches out and draws me into him. "I've spent the whole week missing the way you feel in my arms. I'm not wasting even one more minute without touching you." He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me so deeply I forget to breathe.
"You taste like wine," he murmurs, his forehead pressed against mine. "Did you really like it?"
I nod, breathless, not sure if he meant the kiss or the wine but the answer is the same either way. David pulls back, takes a drink, and then kisses me again, the sweet flavor on his tongue tantalizing my taste buds.
"Now you taste like wine," I whisper against his lips as a breeze stirs my dress against my thighs and a blaze of warmth settles into my belly.
I want him, and if he's ready to take me, then all he has to do is ask.