When he looks at me like this, I become more real. More true. More Sarah. Grounded by our vulnerability, his playfulness, our sensuality, he unlocks parts of me I didn’t know I was holding back.

They get a chance to feel and do and be and love.

 

***

And then we explode together, his cries blending with mine, my hands roaming his back, one clawing at his fine, tense ass as if hanging on for dear life, his name a loop in my mind until it, too, disappears into nothingness, a place where pure pleasure is all I know, all I feel, all I think, all I am.

With him.

 

***

Slot B starts whimpering. Don’t worry, Slotty. I’m not turning down any Tab A action just because Case is a bit of a liar. I’ll have a nice screw and then we’ll deal with his ethical issues.

Stop overthinking this! Slot B screams.

You’re right. Don’t worry.

Slots before thoughts is my motto tonight.

 

***

Oh, no.

This is happening.

This is really happening.

And it’s happening with a woman I’m lying to.

Who is lying right back.

But as she sighs against my mouth, the smile on her lips blending into our kiss like happiness can be transferred from one breath to another, our embrace deepening, I have another epiphany.

I don’t care.

I don’t care about the lies.

I just care about her. About feeling more of this. How can I feel this forever?

 

***

Do I love her? Can you feel love for someone when you’ve barely known them and had such a big blow-up with each other over a massive clash of priorities?

I don’t know.

Pulling back, watching the situation from a thousand miles up, I see something Sarah and I missed:

We’re both better people than we realize.

And we really, really care about building a world that is fair and kind.

 

***

Loss. I feel nothing but loss right now, all of it echoing through me like something precious dropped down a cavern whose bottom you cannot see. It’s so vast and endless, all the parts of me I cannot have any longer. The Sarah who met Case a short time ago in that bar, on her third glass of wine, feels like a fragment, a figment, a former me who bears no relation to the person sitting here, freshly kissed, being told it’s over.

At least I’m not being erased.

I’m just being gently let down.

EXCERPT #1
Bottom line: this is special. She is special. The way I feel when I am with her is more than special, from her secret stash of sugar in a snooty yoga class to the way she tugs my hair when I go down on her to her confession about merlot and pinot noir and cheese and crackers.

Special. All of it.

And when you have someone this special in your life, all you want to do is spend more time licking her to orgasm.

Then bury yourself in her while she moans for more.

What? You were expecting a profession of love?

 

EXCERPT #2
A little moan escapes out of Sarah, a sound of yielding that makes me groan, our tongues going places that make promises of more, and soon, dinner at a fine restaurant pales in comparison to dragging her back into her apartment, screwing until we’re dehydrated, and ordering Door Dash sushi.

“Ahem,” she says as she pulls back, reaching up to wipe lipstick off my mouth with her thumb. Our eyes lock as she smiles at me, full and open.

It’s the kind of smile you could jump right into, unabashed and with complete abandon.

A freefall smile, that one is.

“That was a lovely way to say hello,” I whisper in her ear, inhaling slowly, enjoying the warm glow of her.

 

EXCERPT #3
It’s 5:44 a.m. and there’s a naked man in my bed.

His name is… um…

His name is…

He told me to call him…

Let’s just call him by his initials.

N.M. for Naked Man.

Or for Never Mind.

Because in ten minutes, we’re going to pretend this never happened. 

Pretend I didn’t go to a bar last night and have three glasses of pinot grigio, violating my strict two-glass limit.

Pretend I didn’t let my friends talk me into jumping up on stage and singing “WAP,” complete with properly choreographed dance moves.

Pretend I did not let N.M. here buy me a drink and kiss him like my tongue had developed magnets that sought out his iron tonsils.

And he most certainly did not kiss me back with a suave, athletic grace that made my body shimmer and my P, indeed, become deeply W.

Oh, no.

While technically, all of that did happen, and I invited him back to my apartment and we did the two-back nasty so many times I am pretty sure we need to invent a new prime number for it, in ten – now, nine – minutes, Mr. N.M. doesn’t exist.

My life has firm boundaries.

Speaking of firm – 

 

EXCERPT #4
A warm prickly feeling creeps along my skin, delicious and full of sexual anticipation. My whole life, I’ve been the stereotypical good girl. Not in some big, uptight way. Even that would be easier – because I’m just restrained in small, simple ways. It’s not some OCD need to control the world or some damaged piece of my soul holding me back.

My life has been so devoid of drama I don’t even have that.

My tendency to hold back is so boring because it’s, well… boring. I just don’t step outside of my comfort zone.

Ever.

Until last night. Last night I had a third glass of wine. I danced. I kissed a stranger in a bar. I took said stranger home with me.

 

EXCERPT #5
The only way out of this inane conversation is to kiss her, those lips soft and wet against mine, the little sound she makes in the back of her throat turning me into the kind of man who becomes completely and utterly enchanted by one woman for the rest of his life. Never having been such a man before, this is all new, and as Sarah deliciously cups me from the front, her tongue against mine, her thigh sliding up as it strokes me, I have an epiphany.

With a single blink, I become a different version of myself.

The one who is consumed by Sarah.

The one who is delighted by Sarah.

The one who doesn’t just want to fuck Sarah.

The one who wants her to want me as desperately as I want her.

And who is now wholly devoted to her.

Oh, no.

This is happening.

This is really happening.

 

EXCERPT #6
When your entire world crumbles around you, you don’t have time for perspective. Stacey’s death was slow and agonizing but filled with so much grasping. Trying this doctor, that therapy, another research trial – anything to give her, and us, hope that she could beat stage 4 breast cancer. We all lost sight of the big picture:

Love.

It was love that drove us to do all those things, the rocket fuel that motivated our desperation. But we also burned through that fuel, using it up to keep her alive, forgetting to save some to enjoy the time she did have left.

With Sarah, now I see how both of our ambitions got in the way of, well… love.

Yes, love.

Do I love her? Can you feel love for someone when you’ve barely known them and had such a big blow-up with each other over a massive clash of priorities?

I don’t know.