Ex and Out

"Do you want to stay?" asks the fresh ex. She wears the tight summer dress I bought her in that little shop. The dress hugs her figure, let her arms and shoulders bare, emphasizes her neckline. It's damn sexy.

"But Peter?" Peter is the new man in her life, the reason that the fresh ex is a fresh ex. She loves Peter, she says.

We broke up as friends. No quarrel, no words, only anxious sadness (of my side). I’ve come to pick up my belongings (the sad remains of six months of sleeping together), I thought.

"I love Peter," confirms the fresh ex, "but I like you too. If you want, you can stay tonight."

Stay with her ... Hug her on the couch, the serious work in her big bed. The same bed where on the second night I broke one of the bedside boards in my enthusiasm (Don’t try that sexual position in bed). We had history in that bed: hot & horny nights, and tenderness, and lazy & relaxed afternoons. The smell of her sweat and moisture (and her perfume), her solid body, groaning when I loved her (and vice versa).

"We can keep seeing each other, we are friends," says the fresh ex. She stands so close. Big eyes, full mouth, both asking.

"I have to go," I try.

"Are you sure?" The fresh ex comes closer. Her body radiates warmth. My little nuclear reactor, I always called her.

I will stay, I know. I will grab her, throw on the couch. Hurry, angry, hard we will be fuck. Bank, floor, stairs, bed. My body hungers for her and the fresh ex knows. I am an open book for her, of course. Wasn’t I always?

The fresh ex still love me, that must be true. Otherwise, she wouldn’t want me to stay, would she now? The fact that she asks me to stay proves she loves me. And if she loves me then there is a chance that everything will be fine, that everything will be the same as before. That she loves only me and not some Peter.

"Stay ..." It isn’t a question; It's an order.

I see my future. I will stay tonight. She calls me one of the next days and then I can come again, and again and again. Whenever she wants, when the sweet attentions of the new love aren’t enough and she hungers for the exciting taste of adultery. Each time I will come to when she commands, like a lap dog.

It happens too fast to think. I grab my cardboard box with stuff and kiss the fresh ex on her cheek. "I'll be going now."

I turn around and walk out the door. I dare not to look back, I can’t. I don’t know if I can keep resisting her. I continue to walk and imagine the distorted face of my fresh ex. I surprised her.

At this late hour the streets are deserted. The car is not far away. I put the box in the trunk and then I sit down behind the wheel. I don’t start the car but bangs with my hands on the steering wheel.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid asshole,” I curse for a full minute. I could have had her tonight. No big empty bed, no waking up alone. I could have had her.

“Stupid asshole!' This time it sounds relieved, even a little bit triumphant. It is over. Now, really.

Time for the first night alone.