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With my next orgasm, Thomas comes as well, and the world is set on fire with brilliant, white flames around us.
We hold each other as the beautiful light of our lovemaking fades into an ethereal glow.
“Next time,” Thomas whispers, “we’ll see what else is in the bag.”
“Oh, you just wait. That was only the beginning.”
Alexis and WineBar #5
But there were problems with me and WineBar.
He made my head spin.
Half the time it was in ecstasy.
But the other half?
Rage.
He wasn’t my boyfriend. He didn’t do relationships.
He made that explicitly clear.
I kept my dignity. I told him I was a modern sort of woman. I didn’t need relationships either.
We were just enjoying each other.
We respected each other.
It was just fun.
That’s what we both said.
Until I saw him in his bar.
It was brunch and he was behind the counter and some skank who had too many Bellinis leaned over the counter and tried to kiss him.
He moved his mouth so she got his cheek instead of his lips.
I was fuming.
When he picked me up for dinner that night, he could tell something was the matter.
We fought.
“What the fuck do you want from us?” he shouted.
“What do you fucking think?” I yelled back.
He followed me as I stormed out of the car.
“We aren’t dating!” he shouted.
“Right,” I yelled back. “Let’s just keep it casual, asshole.”
The next day—still crying—I boarded a cross country flight from San Francisco to New York City.
“Ma’am?” the flight attendant who sold me the ticket asked me at the counter.
