Sex Unlimited(29)

DAWN’S MANUSCRIPT HAS TAKEN A sad turn and I’m having a hard time getting through it. I scroll to the next paragraph and try to focus.



Sometimes when we lose something so important, the loss bleeds over into every other aspect of your life and into every other relationship you have. My blame and his regret, mixed together, created a momentous crater, separating us with miles of bitterness. I know Brian wasn’t ultimately responsible for the loss of our child, yet I blamed him. While I was blaming him, he was blaming himself. With every day that passed, our grief morphed into a hatred we couldn’t recover from. Losing a child is terrible but your child being kidnapped and murdered is horrific. Many times I wonder if there’s a love strong enough that would be able to sustain such pain. I hated him because he was the one with her at the park that day. We never had closure; the killer having never been caught. I never had a name or face to hate, so I took it all out on my husband. The day he packed his things and left, I didn’t even ask him to stay. The excruciating pain on his face as he turned to look at me, just before he walked out the door, still haunts me to this day. All I saw as he left our life, our home, our nightmare, was a bottomless ocean of shattered dreams with waves of loss crashing against granite rocks of despair. We had gone from brilliant colors of love and happiness to a rapid descent into a colorless place where love didn’t exist.



I wipe tears from my eyes and try to focus on the screen. This is by far the heaviest story she’s ever written. I’ve been going for hours now and I’m feeling like a break is in order for sure. I click the save button and close my laptop. I’m exhausted. These late nights with Brisban are catching up to me. I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, letting out a sigh. My mind has images of last night on repeat. The shower was incredible. I’ve never had a man wash my hair before. His hands massaging my scalp, my back pressed against his front, and the feeling of his erection pressed against my backside as our body’s slid against one another, was amazing.

When I’m with him, he consumes me. I’m no longer Candace Greene. I’m this woman who exudes sexuality and passion and he absorbs every ounce of it. The energy that flows between us is indescribable and no matter how hard I keep trying to stop underlying feelings from bubbling up, they keep trying to creep into my mind, and it’s terrifying. He wants me to come over to his place tomorrow night and I haven’t answered yet, simply because I’m scared to take a step into his real life. The hotels are safe - they’re a fantasy land where reality can’t touch us. I feel as if the moment I step into his home I’m going to be entering into his life and the lines between fantasy and reality are going to get blurred. I don’t want that to happen.

My shoulders are stiff from working at my desk for so long so I decide to go shopping. Shopping always takes my mind off everything. I send Janette a quick text to see if she wants to join me and get ready.



Janette: Shopping for what exactly?

Me: New outfit. I told you he invited me to his place. I need something to wear.

Janette: You should show up naked under a red trench. HOT



I roll my eyes and text back.



Me: Not happening.

Janette: Wuss

Me: Yep

Janette: You gotta keep it interesting or he’s going to get bored. Shock him. Why not? This is all for fun, so why not take it to the next level?

Me: You’re a peer pressuring bitch

Janette: You’re a chicken shit. DO IT

Me: Yeah and then when I have a car accident and I’m nude it will all be your fault.

Janette: You’re so melodramatic. What time do you want to meet and where?

Me: Strip mall at 2

Janette: Ok, hooker.





“I still think you should go with my trench coat idea. This cute top and jeans isn’t very memorable if you ask me.”

I hold the top up to myself and turn from side to side, looking in the mirror. “If I show up like that he’s going to think I’m a complete and total slut. I do want to maintain some level of respect here, Janette.”

She holds up a blood red, double-breasted trench coat and smiles. “This with some killer heels and nothing else doesn’t say slutty. It says, unforgettable and fuck me.”

I jerk the coat out of her hands and hold it up. I eye it while mulling this crazy ass idea of hers around in my mind. I shake my head. “I can’t do it.”

“Oh, for the love of your vagina, get over yourself. Yes, you can. Look what you’ve already done in the name of Mister Sex God. This is nothing.”

I put my finger to my lips. “Shh, my god, people can hear you. No public talking about vaginas or sex gods, Janette.”