Tessa scrunched her face. “We’ve done nothing sexual since the middle of the night.”
“Wrong. Meaningful sex is more than inserting Part A into Part B. It’s connection and foreplay and building anticipation.” He nuzzled Tessa’s ear. “How did you feel when we kick boxed?”
“At first I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to take it seriously.”
“It being my promise to teach you how to put an asshole on his ass?”
“Yes.”
“And when you realized I took my promise seriously and made special arrangements to teach you a skill I hoped would keep you safe, how did you feel?”
“Really good. I felt like you were seeing the whole me, not just the student in need of, ah, driver’s training.”
“So we deepened our connection. And these yoga exercises, they brought our bodies together in a pleasing way, but also built trust.”
Tessa thought about Russell’s strong thighs creating a bridge for her overhead stretch. His guiding hands as she rolled back into position. He was right, she had trusted in him physically, and he in her, as she rolled across his chest and landed against his groin.
“All of those elements heighten our appreciation for one another,” Russell continued. “Foreplay isn’t just teasing Part A with Part B. Having you wrapped in my arms, rolling across my chest, and settling here, nestled between my hips increased my desire. I think it did for you as well.”
It had, and it had felt natural, so much so the old Aretha Franklin song popped into her mind. She would have begun to hum it, were it not for the realization that swallowed her up a nanosecond later: how could she have established a stronger physical connection with a man she’d barely met than the man she’d married and lived with? Mark saw sex with her as inserting part A into part B, to be done as quickly and efficiently as possible, because that’s the way they both secretly wanted it. She got to avoid responsibility for her own sexuality and even though it was predictable and boring, Mark got an orgasm without expending much time or effort.
“Hey, what’s this?” Russell said, wiping away the parade of tears streaming down Tessa’s cheek.
“What you just said…the way you said it…I feel it, like I’ve never felt it before.” Tessa looked up at Russell, encouraged by his complete focus on her. “I knew this, here.” She tapped her head. “Carmen and I talked all around this, poked at it, picked it up and bounced it around. But right now every minute I wasted, every excuse I made, every time Mark checked out on me—mentally and physically, every bit of every second that we spent with each other, but not part of each other, I feel it all, right here,” Tessa touched her heart. “And it feels like death.”
“What you and Mark could have been was the dream that brought you to marry. When Mark died, the way he did, you had to face the harsh reality that the dream died long before Mark did. That must hurt a lot.”
Tessa sniffled in response. Her nose was running and her sniffles were desperate.
Russell didn’t have a tissue, so he offered her the tail of his tee shirt.
Tessa cried even harder.
“It’s not that sweaty, is it?” Russell asked, sounding bewildered.
Tessa shook her head. “Mark would never have let me soil his shirt, and I would never have considered blowing my nose on something drenched in his sweat.” She took the tail of Russell’s shirt and blew her nose. Hard. “I can’t believe I could be more intimate with a man I barely know than with my own husband.”