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As everyone talks about turning the music back up, and how the delicious smell of pizza is making them hungry, I whisper in Ben's ear, “Your parents are not like mine at all.”
He whispers back, “My parents aren't normally like this."
"That kiss?"
He shakes his head, gets really close to my ear and whispers, “Oh no, they do that all the time."
Um, wow. My relationship role models! I want something like that, and I can't help but wonder even more deeply about their son. He looks like he could kiss someone into a melted pile of puddle of I want more.
Pete changes the playlist to classic rock and AC DC's Live Wire comes on. We all start to dance, singing along, and it is an absolute blast. Rachel and Sylvia run back to check on the pizzas and soon delicious food is mopping up what the alcohol left behind.
The party winds down, our imbibing making the hour feel later. Everyone is tired except for Dax who says, “One more round!”
“No no no,” is his resounding reply from the entirety of our group.
Rachel catches my attention by disappearing and reappearing with a blanket. “Ben, why don't you sleep on the couch?"
"I can walk back."
She touches his chest maternally, “No honey.” Because I'm right next to him I can hear her whisper, “That's awfully lonely. Stay here tonight. You can join us for breakfast.”
My heart aches at the love in her eyes, it’s so sweet. My parents aren’t that emotionally available, both go-getters in their fields. They work for United Airlines, travel a lot, work more. They’ve been great role models for work-ethic but I can’t remember the last time I saw them be affectionate, between them or with me or Mark. “Well good night," I say, following the retreat group and Sylvia, who lives here, up to our rooms. I throw a last glance to Ben and give him a wave meant just for him.
Rachel and Jaxson head home, Rachel's eyes on me as she waves, mistaking my goodbye for them. I pause at the top of the stairs and watch them whispering to each other, my heart melting as he smacks her behind on the way out.
In our room, Dax heads for the bathroom first. "This has been more fun than I expected."
Pulling my bed covers back, I agree, “That was a really good time."
As soon as I'm alone, I hurriedly slip off my sandals and sundress, pull on my pink pajama pants and a white tank top, taking off my strapless bra underneath it, and shove it into my suitcase, tossing my dress into a laundry bag I bought for the occasion. As soon as my roommate vacates the bathroom, I hurry in and brush my teeth, check my make up and decide not to wash my face just yet. In fact, a re-application of lipstick is in order, the tequila tells me. As I walk outside I meet Dax’s worried eyes which say everything I’m not. With a smile and a cocooning roll over into a mound of covers, I am given permission, wordlessly, to do what I'm about to do with what feels like reservation, but no verbal objection.
Peeking out of our bedroom I discover that I am alone, the voices of my comrades muffled through their doors. In bare feet I tiptoe barefoot back downstairs.
Ben is sitting up on the couch looking toward me, as if waiting. I pause and he frowns, throws off his blanket and meets me halfway. We stare at each other, silence heavy between us. He takes my hand, and pulls me into the kitchen, out of view of the stairs. Were anyone to come down, we’d have a minute to claim getting a water, or some other logical excuse.
Against the refrigerator, he cages me, saying in a rasp, "I need to do this,” lips brushing against mine, a mere whisper of skin against skin. Shivers travel all the way down my body, heat burning my stomach and below. My breath is suspended as I wait for what’s next. Will he pull away? No, his lips press harder into mine and pull away so he can look at my face, scrutinizing me. I sigh, “I should go,” and he kisses me, taking possession of my mouth, strong arms wrapping around me, drawing me closer, thick fingers digging into my skin as our kiss deepens. Our tongues find each other for the best kiss of my life. My entire body is awake to it in a way it never has been before, not by any other kiss. We move on each other and it feels so good that I start to cry. I push him away. "I can't. You're still married. I can't do this. I'm so sorry. This is my fault!”
“It’s not your fault. I did this.”
“I just…I can’t.” I hurry away as fast as I can, running up the stairs like my morals are chasing me. Inside our bedroom, I lean against the door quietly, silently panting, desperately wanting more kisses. More touch.
Dax rises up, “You OK?"
"I don't know."
They throw off their covers. Rush over to me. Start for the door knob. "Did he hurt you?"
I cover their hand with mine. "No! He's perfect." I start to sob.
Dax pulls me close. "Hey it's OK."
"I want him so badly."
"He didn't hurt you?"
"No. Why would you think that?"
"He carried out his wife!"
