By Lady Cheeky          (Originally written 8/10/10)

Sitting in the lobby of the trendy and overly decorated hotel waiting for him.  It had been two months since I had any contact with him … almost three months since we made love.

But things just changed. They had taken a turn in my favor. And for any lovelorn woman who has ever fantasized of her lost lover impetuously jumping on a plane bringing nothing with him but his I.D. to win his girl back, this was a dream come true.

But why then, was I not jumping out of my skin, tears in my eyes waiting at the window with a pie and his slippers?  Instead, I was in a leather armchair, in a poorly styled “hip” hotel listening to house music just a little too loud for comfort.

I was nervous. I wasn’t when he said he was taking the next flight out. I wasn’t when I booked the room. I wasn’t when I walked to the elevator to get to the lobby. But now, now my skin was vibrating, my heart pounding and my hands shaking  - tracing figure eight’s on my iPhone screen with my finger, rehearsing disjointed platforms of ultimatums and scorned woman rhetoric that felt unnatural, but kept my mind occupied.

I had left him and banned him from my life two months ago. I did this to save my soul and my mind. He had made a choice for his life’s path that wasn’t in sync with mine. A choice that was the oil to my water … the two could not stay mixed together without eventually parting. I needed more and he needed something else.

And then, without warning, he told me that was no longer the case. If he jumped on the next plane to see me could he explain?  Shocked, what could I say? If the one thing keeping us apart was now not an issue then I owed it to myself to listen. I was “the love of his life”, he told me … but I had known that he was the love of mine for a while. I knew what discovering that was like and it sounded as though he was on that ship and that ship had left the port. But, I dare not think this way. I should hear him out first. I can’t do this to myself again without proof.

Two months ago I never would have been here regardless of what he had to say. I was beyond my limit of angry, hurt and defeated. I was done understanding and being supportive and getting him between business trips. We never saw each other but once or twice a month and then, only for a couple of days at a time on average. That’s fine for recreational lovers, but not for lovers in love. I loved him. I knew he loved me, he just didn’t know it yet. If he did, he wouldn’t have taken that job in London cutting our time together down to a few days a year. A prestigious, career changing job. An important job. A job that would be his friend, lover and confidante as I would not be there to fulfill that role.

I cried for a month straight. In my bedclothes 24/7 and not leaving the house. Sleeping 12 hours a day and then 3 hours a day. Eating cookies for dinner and wine or Xanax for dessert. Trying to numb myself while not doing too much damage. 30 days and 10 lbs larger I began to surface. I guess my body couldn’t take the intensity and the drama of the situation with Guerre and was ready to move on to my usual intensity and drama that is my life.

I started dating again, but I found my mind wander and my heart followed. Sex was perfunctory with these gentlemen. Bless their hearts they tried, and with the right woman it would have worked … but I was spoiled … no … I was inured to anyone else. My body knew it was the perfect compliment Martin’s and it would have no other. My desire waned … my orgasms became less frequent … my fantasies too painful to be frequent as Guerre would pop up unexpectedly in odd places and take over.

One night in particular, I had retreived my handy “Rabbit” and was bound and determined to make myself come. Low lights, soft music, candles, lingerie a little porn on the TV with the sound off and I was off to see the Wizard. The Rabbit is a miracle of technology. Whirring and oscillating inside me while the ears surround my clit vibrating while they slap it around.

I dreamed of being dressed to the nines in a high box at the Opera (don’t ask, because I hate the opera). I look great in red velvet strapless gown and my hair up and clearly I’ve been working out. A gentleman is seated late in the only other seat in the box … next to me. It’s dark as the first act has begun … I glance over but cannot see his face … but, he is tall (whirrrr, slap-slap, mmmm) at least 6’2” – 6’-3” …

Back to the opera … La Rondine … I figure I’ll stay until “O Mio Babino Caro” and then I’m outta here.

The gentleman next to me is leaning forward arms on the edge of the box seemingly entranced by the performance. “Gay man” I think “Gay, gay, gay. Gay as the day is long. G.A.Y. Gay”. God, I have good Gaydar, I should really be studied. A little proud, I sit up in my chair a bit which startles my neighbor for some reason and he turns to me. All I can see are his blue/green eyes. Is it the lighting, because surely eyes don’t glow like that?  We hold a glance for more than the moment should last … until my purse falls on the floor between us. As we both go to retrieve the bag our cheeks graze … my right … his left. Suddenly we both stop at the same time and are frozen in this position. The current we experience at this innocent, accidental touch is nothing short of otherworldly. It is so meaningfully sharp and distinct it renders us immobile for a moment. Until, again in unison, we begin to look up at each other to get, what I assume, would be confirmation from the other that that current existed. As our heads rise slowly and our eyes meet, a rush … a wave of excitement and desire rage to flush my cheeks. As we both move toward for a kiss his face hits the light and I can see … it’s … it’s … GUERRE! My heart skips a beat, we both smile hungrily … longingly … and as if seeing food for the first time after a long starvation, we join together in a whirlwind of kisses and gropes and grunts and … and …

Whirr, slap-slap! “Mmmmmmooooohhhhhhh!HHHHHH AAAAAHHH!!!!!!! OH YES!”. Orgasm hits while he is sucking my ear. Panting, I regain control and realize it was just a fantasy. No Guerre here with me to share the orgasm after bask with. Just me and two overly made up tarts on the TV licking each other… and the sobbing begins, until I fall asleep with sore eyes, a stuffed nose and a massive headache.

But soon he’ll be here … in the flesh… arms wrapped around me, owning my body. Sinking into his tall, strong frame I will exhale for the first time in months.

                                                   To be continued …