“Shit” she said as she got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. She sat on the toilet and put her head in her heads, frustrated by the way this was playing out. They had both agreed that their relationship was sex, sex only, no emotions, no strings, and no promises. They had met two or three times a week, whenever their schedules had allowed, and up until now things had been working out well. Now all of a sudden he wanted to know where things stood between them, wanted to define their ‘relationship’. She cursed again; when had this become a relationship?
She flushed, washed her hands and walked back into the hotel room. They had agreed to meet in hotels because it would be a neutral territory, neither of them would have to feel that their personal space was being invaded, plus they didn’t have to worry about his wife or kids catching them. Was that it? Was guilt getting the better of him? She lay on her back; her head at the foot of the bed, her knees bent up, and looked at the ceiling. He was stretched out, his head on the pillow, his hands behind his head, his eyes closed. They lay there in silence for a while.
“So what’s this all about? I thought we agreed that this was no strings attached?”
He didn’t reply. Was he sleeping? She tried to listen to his breathing. It didn’t have that steady rhythm of a person completely relaxed. She waited. Still no reply; she waited a few more minutes, then slowly got off the bed and began to dress. Bra, underwear, stockings, blouse, skirt. She had just finished tying up the laces on her ankle boots and was looking for her purse.
“Why are you running away?”
She looked at her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a ‘what the fuck’ look.
“Who says I’m running away? Why are acting like this?”
He kept his eyes closed, his voice cracking, “I think my wife knows.”
Shit, she thought, and sat down at the bottom of the bed. She stared at her reflection again.
“Oh, well, it was fun while it lasted.”
A sharp sound escaped from his throat.
“Oh, well,” he said, the emotion rising in his voice, “that’s all you have to say, ‘oh well’? It’s that easy for you to walk away from all this?”
She stared at him.
“What’s ‘all this’? You knew when this started that this was nothing more than great sex. We never made any sort of commitment. It was fun and now it’s over. Stop trying to make this into something more than what it was in order to feel less guilty about what you did.”
He scrunched his eyes tighter, as if fighting off tears. She got off the bed and picked up her purse. She turned to look at him one last time. She knew it would be the last time.
“I hope it works out for you.” she said softly, “I hope everything works out ok.”
She started for the door when she heard him sob.
“I didn’t want to be this kind of man, I didn’t want to be that guy who fucks around on his wife.”
Her hand was on the door knob and she tried to think of something to say. Should she be kind and offer words of comfort, or should she be a cunt and say something cruel and vindictive? She heard another soft sob from the bed. She pulled the door open and quickly slammed it behind her.
“Shit” was all she said as she walked to her car.
©2009 VL Sheridan