The First Time.
The look of mild disgust that tainted his features as he pulled out of me made a painful stamp on my mind. One deep enough to guide my celibacy journey over the years.
He showed up at my doorstep barely a week ago. All tall,rich and witty. As usual.
The reaction I had to seeing him after 8 months was totally unexpected. Shocking in fact. I felt happy. For someone who had dragged me through all corners of hell,that was a strange reaction. I felt happy. I was happy.
A smile played across my lips as I pulled out the barricades on my door. A knowing smile then a wider,happier smile. I knew he’d be back. We were both toxically obsessed with each other and not a day passed within the past eight months without thoughts of him crossing my mind. Except,those thoughts were filled with anger,pain and a sprinkle of blooming hatred. Total opposites to what now danced in my eyes.
The door finally open I almost jumped into his arms. The pain felt like a distant weight and the hatred, well. . . It was nowhere to be found at the moment. All I felt was love. And a joy that threatened to overwhelm me. Not that it showed because I still stood at my door, a cold mask in place. My features held no testimony to the myriad of emotions playing just below the surface. A smile played across my lips but it wasn’t warm. I couldn’t show him just how happy I was to see him. Not just yet.
‘It’s good to see you.’ he drawled in a tone that made my insides quiver. 'I don’t expect you to feel the same.’
‘You’re right. I don’t.’ I fired, finally stepping aside to let him in.
‘You look. . . Beautiful.’ he said, raising his brows above his prescription glasses. A gesture that caught me wanting to wrap him in my arms one too many times.
‘Don’t I always?’ I asked rhetorically sweeping my gaze across his entire frame. He looked taller. He was 6ft7. Was it possible he had grown even taller? My gaze took a slow stroll across his face taking in the full beard,the fully grown hair,his eyes. Oh,his eyes. I doubt that he knew it but his eyes behind prescription glasses made me both sad and. . . Giddy? No. Aroused.
I hated the unfortunate fact that his vision was impaired and somehow loved how vulnerable and sweet he looked in his glasses. And when his eyes twitched in an uncertain manner that showed he was trying to understand something. . . My God!
‘ I love the skirt.’
His voice snapped me out of my hungry perusal. My eyes widened ever so slightly and I wondered how much of my emotions they betrayed. His presence was like a drug. Scratch that. His presence was like food. I love food. And I’m almost always hungry.
‘ Of course you do.’ I replied, a cold, wicked smile curving my lips. I was wearing an ash hued, mini skirt. My toned, beautiful legs on tempting display. I let him sit and I sat too. Careful not to seem relaxed. I still had a facade to uphold.
‘ How have you been?’ he asked in that tone that made it seem like he cared.
‘ I’m alright. You?’ Take a look at me my love. What do you see? I knew I looked beautiful. I know I AM beautiful. I knew I looked incredible. Nails done, hair made, skin glowing unbelievably. I was proud. This wasn’t what I looked like eight months ago.
‘ I’m fi. . .’
‘Uhmm. . . Do you mind if I finish dressing up quickly so we can go out?’ I interrupted. ‘ My grandad will soon be back.’ And I’d hate to see his reaction.
. . . To be continued.