My leg wrapped firmly around him and my arms clung tightly around his neck. We rocked together. Soon, his long, thick strokes sent me over the edge.
My fingernails dug into his shoulders, and I moaned. It felt as if he was growing inside me.
His groans grew so loud I was afraid we would get caught. I covered his mouth with mine. With him silenced, I heard the voice in the hall. I stopped kissing him and listened.
“I think there is more in here,” the voice said. “Ok, I’ll check. Yes, two. I’ll get two.” The familiar voice must have been on a phone or talking to himself.
Panic filled me. It was Thomas.
The door jiggled, and then the sounds of keys.
“Shit.” I tried getting the attention of my lover, but my words were muffled
as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. I pulled away. “Someone is coming.”
“I am not finished,” he objected. “Almost there…” He pumped harder.
You brought him here, I scolded myself. Ride it out, Caitlyn.
I heard the door open. I closed my eyes and hoped Thomas had turned
around when he saw us. It seemed like minutes passed before my stranger finally
climaxed.
“What do you think you are doing? You are not on that kind of break,”
Thomas screeched.
The waiter deflated and slipped out of me. Unabashed, he threw the used condom into the trash and pulled up his pants. “I didn’t know there were rules about what I did on my break, mate.”
I tried to stay hidden from view as I straightened my clothes.
“The both of you back to work,” Thomas ordered.
I got away with it. Thomas didn’t realize it was me.
As I walked past him, I felt his grip on my arm. “Wait. You, stay.”
The waiter winked at me and kept going. I didn’t blame him. I would have
done the same thing.
“Cat? What the hell?” Thomas hissed.
“I was just having a bit of fun,” I said nonchalantly.
“I thought the stories were lies. Cat, really? You are fucking the waitstaff?”
Thomas’ eyes filled with pity.
“I’m young and single. I can do whatever I please,” I snapped. “Who are to
judge? You’ve had plenty of your own one-night stands.”
“But, you’re different, Cat. This isn’t you,” Thomas’ voice was filled with pain. “I let you down. I was supposed to protect you.”
Sadness washed over me. I wasn’t different. He couldn’t protect me from anyone, especially not myself.
I didn’t stop right away, but I found, over the next few weeks, that my hunting for strangers to hook up with became less satisfying. Each cheap moment left me full of shame. I had seen myself through Thomas’ eyes, and I wondered, who have I become?
The Bad Boy
One morning, Thomas met me at the mall for an impromptu shopping spree. He
was giddy with the idea of transforming my look. Katherine Hepburn meets Marilyn Monroe was his inspiration.
After a few hundred dollars and several hours, Thomas left me with strict instructions for my next purchases. I was lost in the overwhelming scent choices
when I felt a hand on my waist.
“You don’t want anything too overpowering. Men don’t like to go home to their wives smelling like their dates,” the deep voice of a man advised me.
I whipped around and was face-to-face with Christopher. He wore a soft beard and mustache now. Any stranger would think he was very handsome, but
those people didn’t know he was a psychotic rapist.
“Long time, no see, Caitlyn,” he smiled. His hands squeezed my hips.
