Christina’s the first person I’ve met who makes me want to take the risk, though. She makes me feel more alive than I have in months, and pushing so many people away has started to wear medown.
“As you wish, PrincessPeach.”
She follows me in her car on the short drive to my place, and when we get inside I don’t give her a chance to look around. I take her hand and steer her into the bedroom, then scoop her up and throw her down on thebed.
“Take all your clothes off,” I order, looming overher.
“Well somebody’s gettingdemanding.”
“My house, my rules,” I answer with a jump of my eyebrows. “You can leave your heelson.”
We’re both still in our business clothes, and Christina keeps her eyes locked on mine as she pulls off her jacket and blouse. She slips her shoes off to wriggle out of her pants, and then puts the heels back on, laying herself out in front of me. She’s wearing the blue set of lingerie from ourshoot.
“I saidallyourclothes.”
I’m compensating for the nervousness coursing through me by being more commanding than usual, and she seems to like it. I can see the thrill of excitement in her face as she sits up to unclasp her bra, nipples hardening as she frees her perfect tits and then peels off the tiny blue pair ofpanties.
I drop to my knees and push her roughly back on the bed. She lets out a gasp and I don’t waste any more time. I lick at the soft skin of her inner thighs and then run my tongue between her legs, parting her, tasting her, letting myself get lost in the moment and forget that there’s any reason I wouldn’t want to be doingthis.
Soon she’s bucking her hips against me and tangling her hands in my hair. I place a hand on her lower stomach, stretching her skin tight to give me better access to her clit. When I flex my tongue into a hard point and lick her even faster, I feel her whole body stiffen and then she’s moaning my name over and over again as she writhes and arches on thebed.
It’s one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard, and I intend to hear it several more timestoday.
* * *
Afew hours later,I’m waving goodbye to Christina as she throws a backward glance my way before disappearing down the hall. I can still taste her on my tongue, the scent of her skin clinging tomine.
I pull the door to my apartment closed and sigh. If there was ever a time to tell her it would have been now, when I had her here with me, somewhere I felt safe enough to explain. She’s handing me the keys to get deeper and deeper inside of who she is, and I’m still locking herout.
I turn to the tiny closet door in my entryway, the one I don’t have enough stuff to fill. This apartment could win an award for the amount of built in storage space it has. Before everything that happened with Tiff, I just kept this closetempty.
My walls used to be filled with photos of her. She said it made me seem like a creepy fanboy, but I didn’t give a shit. I still have some of my other work on display, but all of my best shots were of her. I wanted to show them off. I wanted to showheroff.
The day I got the phone call, I smashed every frame that had her picture in it. It took me weeks to clean up all the glass; I still have scars on my feet from getting cut on the pieces I missed. I locked my camera away for months, but I couldn’t get rid of the photos. Now they line the walls of the empty closet. When missing her gets to be too much, I open the door and juststare.
Sometimes I think of this closet like a haven, and other times it’s as suffocating as a coffin, as heavy as an iron safe slung around my neck. It’s a weakness, an illness I’ve been fighting to hide. I hole up on my own and turn away from anyone who tries to see what’s wrong, because what else do you do with a sickness you can’theal?
