The rest of the school day was uneventful. Kara and I had a date that evening, and after dinner we went to the apartment. I wish we could have gone to a movie, but her parents were very picky about what movies she was allowed to see. I chuckled to myself that I suspect her dad would have preferred us going to the movies rather than what we were doing. In fact, he’d probably have preferred dancing to what we were doing!“How are you doing?” Kara asked, after we sat down with some tea.“Fine. Everything is actually very good.”“Do you feel like you’re trapped? That you don’t have any options?”“No, not at all. This is exactly where I should be right now. I want to be with you.”“Are you sure? I’m just afraid that you feel that you don’t have any options.”“I’m fine. I want to be with you. We get along great; more than great, actually. I like spending time with you. I love you. And I love making love with you.”“I love you, Steve. And I love making love with you.”“Then why are we talking?” I. I slip my lithe body through the small gap that a gentle push creates. Closing the door behind me, I lean heavily against it; settled in my well-intentioned deceit, I paint on my happiest face.You hear me and look up, taking me in, in a moment, your keen eyes scanning every inch of my body. I look at them intently for your eyes tell me in a moment what you are feeling. Are they hazel or green right now? They change by your mood and the palate around you. Your appreciation is gratifying. I can see that familiar lust in you, in your eyes, the tension in your broad shoulders, the pen paused and forgotten mid-signature. Three years of marriage and you still look at me like that. A brief smile plays on your face as I slink over to you, intentionally turning my hips in the most sensuous way I can.You turn in your chair, creating a space for me to slip into your lap as I round the desk. G-d, how I love how small being with you makes me feel. I “fit” in the spaces you create and the urge to.
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