I am HER... (22 page)

 
“I’m glad you had an orgasm as well, though it did take a little coercion from me.  Did you enjoy yourself?”

 
“Um… yes.”  I’m blushing scarlet.

 
“Did you enjoy meeting with me?  I’m sure you’re not used to the kind of sexuality I possess.”

 
“Um... yes.”  Do I have any other words?  “Should I call you later, or something, or just... um, never mind.  I should go..."  Christ! I’m such a pathetic loser!! 
  "Stop thinking, love.  This is the awkward part, always.  Everyone struggles with the 'what ifs' and the 'what now’s'.  I'm not going anywhere, even when I return to New York.  So breathe, Sweetheart.  We’ll work this out.  I'm going to pick you up in a few hours for dinner.  Say 5:00?"  Yes!
 "Okay."  Breathe.  He's not going anywhere yet.

 
"One more thing, Sweetheart..." Here we go.  What?  What's wrong with me?  "... I
WAS
right.  Your eyes are absolutely beautiful when bright with pleasure, pupils dilated and lashes lowered.  While glazed over with orgasm, your eyes are simply stunning." 
They are?
  YES!

 
“Oh, ah…thank you…”  What do I say to that?

 
"I'll pick you up at your hotel at 5:00.  So, you have 2 hours to stress yourself out, over-thinking, and over-analyzing, while dying of embarrassment. 
Okay?
"
  Laughing, I mutter, "Yeah, okay.  I'm sure I
will
be.  I'll see you at 5:00." 

                                  ==========

  Arriving at my hotel, I expect to see Marcus and my parents waiting for me in the hotel lobby. Have they somehow found me?  Nope.  I'm alone, but I won’t be in 2 hours. 
Yes!
  But as I make my way to my room, I’m nervous again.  Could they have talked the staff into opening the doors for them?  Likely not, but still, maybe?  No.  The room is booked by a Mr. Zinfandel.  Let’s hope... Ha!  I’m alone.  No Marcus.  No mother and father.  No one.  Just me, alone, waiting just under 2 hours for Z. 

  I wonder where we're going?
  What should I wear?  Should I dress up? Probably.  Z doesn't strike me as the McDonalds type.  What will I wear?  My black, of course, but
what
should I wear?  Black slacks and blouse?  A black skirt and blouse?  A black dress?  Yes.  I'll wear my beautiful knee high black backless cocktail dress.  This is so exciting!
  I want to hop in the shower again to clean my body...
for Z?
  I don't know.  This is so strange.  I have never felt this excited, even when Marcus and I began dating.  Maybe because Marcus didn't ‘woo’ me, or even date me really.  He knew my father, was introduced to me, and we began seeing each other mostly in the presence of my parents at all their friend's parties, banquets, the Country Club, and at various fund raisers.
  When my phone rings I look nervously, but am thrilled to see its Z.
  "Hello?"
  "Hi, Sweetheart.  I have a question, and I would like a thorough and honest answer."  Oh, shit.  I
hate
Z's questions.
  "Okay..."  Here we go.
  "How did Marcus propose marriage to you?”  Jesus
Christ!
  How did he know I was just thinking about this?
  "Um, honestly?"
  "Yes.  All of it.  The truth please."  Why does he always say that?  I don't lie,
not really.
  "Well, Marcus didn't really propose to me.  Isn't that strange?  One day over brunch in January at my parent’s home, my mother began asking Marcus how many people he needed to invite to the wedding.  Marcus pondered the question, while I looked back and forth at them confused because I didn’t know whose wedding they were talking about.  Was Marcus getting married?  I remember thinking I should be sad over this, shouldn’t I?" I exhale into the phone.
  "Continue, please."
  "Ah, then my mother announced that her
tentative
list held 525 people.  Marcus looked at my father, not at me, and the two of them dramatically rolled their eyes, with my father saying to him, 'Welcome to the family son, be prepared for
THIS
tornado' as he smiled at my mother tenderly.  Tsking, my mother threw her table linen at him, and all three burst out laughing." 
Oh, good time
s
… As if!
  "At that point, I realized they were talking about
my
wedding."
  Quietly, Z asks, "And how did that make you feel?"
  "Um, I remember the feeling I had of complete and total detachment.  I was looking at the three of them wondering, ‘
am I even in the room?
 
Do any of you even see me?‘
Marcus then leaned over to me,
finally
, but instead of proposing, he asked, 'I have at least 100 people, what about you, honey?’ and I just sat there staring at him.  My mother piped up, 'Oh, her people
are
my people, so our number stands around 525'.  And that was it.  Nothing more was said to me... Oh, that's not true.  Marcus and my mother did ask if the 12th of May 'worked for me?'  I think I just nodded.  I don't really remember speaking."

 
God, that sounds terrible to me.  I really
am
nameless and faceless to my parents and Marcus.
  "Please don't retreat, Sweetheart... though I can imagine it’s difficult at the moment.  I don't want you saddened.  I was asking because I'm trying to set up my own loop-holes should you choose to end your marriage, which again I'll confess... I
sincerely
hope you do."
  "Oh, I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore..." I whisper.
  "Please, Sweetheart.  I would like you to forget these questions, if you can, just for tonight.  I'm picking you up in a little over an hour, and I can't stand to hear the sadness in your voice."
  "I'm fine, Marcus.  Don't worry about me."
  "You are NOT fine, love.  And I am
NOT
Marcus."  Oh.
What?
  "I'm sorry?  What did you say?"  Shit.  I feel so confused now.
  "I'm on my way over now.  I'll be there in twenty minutes, okay?" 
  "Okay... WAIT!  No!  I'm fine. 
Really
, I'm okay.  I'll see you at 5:00, okay?"
  "Are you sure?  I don't like hearing you this way.  You sound...
lost
."
  "I'll see you at 5:00, Z.  No sooner, okay?"  There that sounded less
'lost'.
  "Okay.  5:00 it is.  Please relax, Sweetheart.  I'll see you soon."  

                                
==========

 
   I should move.  I
know
I should move, but it's too hard.  This bed is very comfortable and warm… but after forever, I finally rise and head for the shower.  In the bathroom, I disrobe and look in the mirror. There I am...
naked.
  Ick.
  If I
could
be objective
which I can’t
, I would admit that I'm probably not as bad as I think I am.  From my neck up, I'm reasonably attractive.  My hair is pretty, my lips are full and pouty, and my eyes are beautiful.  But from the neck down, I'm...
what?
  Voluptuous?  Curvy? 
Shapely?
  How about, I'm
not skinny,
and I'm short.

 
My breasts are average, if not a little big.  My stomach is flat-ish, but not at all toned.  My waist is average, but my hips are too big for my height.  And my butt really is too big for my body.  It's...
what?
  A
booty?
  A
J-Lo?
  Ha!  I wish. No, my butt is just big, jiggly and seriously
un
toned.  THIS leads to my thighs, which are pretty much the same as my butt.  Marcus was right; I do have 'a big butt and thighs.'  At least my calves are good, though.  Strangely, they look muscular and toned.  Thank you, high heels! So, when I wear a black knee high skirt with my calves showing, it’s actually kind of deceiving for the rest of my legs.

 
Ugh.
  I HATE being naked.
  I hear my phone ringing in the bedroom.  Nope, I’m not answering.  If it’s Z, he'll understand.  And if it's Marcus or my parents, they can piss off!  I'm tired of them.
  Once in the shower, with my hair piled high on my head, I quickly scrape a razor over my still smooth legs and armpits.  Coating my body in my vanilla-jasmine body wash, I relax a little more.  I love this scent.  It's kind of flirty vanilla, and sensual jasmine.  I always feel better after I apply the body wash and then follow it with the moisturizing lotion.  Why am I obsessing about a vanilla-jasmine scent?  There are many more important things to obsess over- like Marcus, or my parents...
or Z.
 
  Z is going to turn away from me soon, I know it.  He is too intelligent a man, not to.  What the hell would he be attracted to?  I'm loopy this week.  I'm going through...
what?
  A
separation?
  A
mental break?
  A
fit of
rebellion?
  Panic-attacks and melo-drama do
NOT
make for an attractive woman. 
 
Christ!
  Maybe I
should
just have sex with him.  At least then I would know what it's like to have
that
kind of sex, before he moves on.  And I'm sure he would be enough of a gentleman to wait a few days afterward, before lecturing me on the difficulties of seeing me right now.  We would both know he meant not so much ‘right now’ as more of a ‘never again'.  Well, 
I
would know. I
always
know.  But at least Z would probably word his absence as I generic, blameless ‘life just got in the way’ kind of thing.  At least I hope he would.  I don’t think I could handle any more blatant rejection in my life right now.

 
Then again, maybe we'll have sex and it will be terrible.  Actually it
WILL
be terrible
naturally
, and I’ll die of embarrassment, and he’ll be wretchedly disappointed in the sex AND in me, and
then
he’ll move on.  So, essentially I’ll still be rejected but then I’ll have another example of my sexual incompetence to further destroy me.  Marcus
and
Z... two men I will have disappointed sexually.  God, I think I’m going to throw up.
  Okay... problem solved.  I can’t do it.  I really shouldn't be feeling anything for him anyway.  I'm still married, whether I like it or not.  I'm still 'not-skinny' whether I like it or not.  And I'm still
just me
, whether I like it or not.

 
I have nothing to offer him.  I have nothing to give him.  I am nothing.  There is nothing he would want from me. I am SUCH a loser. 
 
God,
I am so tired...

 
Slowly, Z walks toward me, with his hands outstretched.  Closer to me, Z kneels on the floor beside the tub, while resting his forearms on the edge. 
  He is so handsome.  I would love to look at him forever, and though that's not an option… a girl can dream.  The thought of staring at him forever has actually warmed me a little.
  "Hi, Sweetheart, how are you?"
   Smiling at him, I reach my hands out to touch his handsome face.  "I'm good.  You're early though."
  "Yes.  I couldn't wait to see you.  Would you like to get out of here now?  You're a little cold, and I don't want you sick."  That is SO sweet.
  "You're so kind, Z… it's weird.  Ooops that sounded rude.  Sorry."
  "No worries.  I can see how a man being kind to you,
would
seem weird.... Can I get you a towel?"  
  "You’re very handsome, Z.  You must hear that all the time, huh?"
  "Thank you, Sweetheart.  But you're the only one I like to hear that from."
  "Uh huh.  I bet all the women you know are
totally
in love with you.  I wish I could be, but I can't.  Ooops, that was rude, too.  I'm really sorry Z.  I'm just going to stop speaking, okay?"  God, I'm so mean, and rude, and bad.  "I'm sorry I'm so bad, Z.  I try, I really do.  I HATE being bad, but I have all this stuff that wants to come out, and I can't really stop it, and it's bad.  And
I'm
bad."