J—
I pull into my driveway. No one moves to get out of the car. Seconds pass in silence. I think they turn to minutes. It feels like it, but I'm sure that's just because I'm nervous and feeling unsure of myself. I expect Mashiho to rush to get out, but he doesn't.
"Hey, Ms. Manoban, were you ever in a band?" If I didn't know better, I'd think my son is trying to keep his coach here. Looks like none of us are ready for the night to end.
"Nah, I'm not what you'd call musically inclined."
"Oh." Mashiho goes on for about five minutes, telling Lisa the plans he has to put a band together, and how he wants to market it.
When my son is finished, I jump in. "Would you like to come in for coffee?" I ask, yawning.
"I'd love to, but I think I should let you get some rest. It's been a long day."
I want to protest, tell her I have too much adrenaline pumping through me, mixed with lustful thoughts of her. There's no way I'm going to rest. Instead, I agree.
Lisa opens the glove box and checks to make sure the insurance and registration are where they are supposed to be.
"Take my cell. This way if you have any questions about the car," her eyes turn toward the back seat, "you can call me."
"G'night, Ms. Manoban," Mashiho says before getting out of the car and heading for the house.
Finally we have a minute alone. It's what I wanted she whole ride home, and now I don't know what to do with it.
"Night, Mash." Lisa answers.
We are alone.
Just the two of us. Sitting in the car which suddenly feels very small and cramped, yet we are so far apart.
Lisa reaches for the phone in my hands, and taps away at the keyboard. Before handing it back, her phone chimes.
"This way I have your number," she grins as she opens the car door and looks back at me, "And Jen, I want you thinking about what that kiss would've been like earlier when you go to bed tonight." Without another word, she gets to her feet and heads to her car.
I want to respond, but I can't, she doesn't give me the opportunity. Besides what is there to say? She caught me off guard, and I'm wondering if she's playing off my emotions, or if I'm playing off hers.
I'm just grateful the car door was open or else the windows might've fogged up from the sudden burst of heat spreading through my body. She did that on purpose. She had to.
I enter the house through the garage, and head right into the kitchen. Mashiho's there, staring at the door, waiting for me to come in.
"What's up, Buddy?"
"I don't know, Mom. You tell me." he sounds annoyed. I feel a nervous twisting in my stomach. I think I know what he's talking about, but I play dumb. Just in case I'm wrong.
"What's the deal with Ms. Manoban?"
"She's your coach, and she's looking to help you out."
"What's the deal with you and her?"
I swallow hard.
"There's no deal, Mashiho. She's a nice woman and we're sort of becoming friends." It's not a lie I whisper to my conscious because it's wreaking havoc in my mind.
"Good. As long as your just friends."
"Did you think something else is going on?" I'm not sure what I'm hoping for him to say.
"No. At least I hoped not."
"You don't like her?"
"No. I like her. But everyone would laugh. You'd look ridiculous with her. And she's not like the other women, you know that right?"
"I know that," There's nothing like a child when you're looking for brutal honestly. Except I'm not. I'm not looking for any sort of honesty or judgment, from anyone. Mashiho least of all. There isn't anything more going on, and Lisa is being a friend. But I know she wants something more. I see it. I feel it. She's even implied it. I want more too. Am I crazy?
I stretch and yawn. "Don't stay up too late. You're going to school in the morning, and no, I'm not driving you so you could be seen in a cool car."
"Aww," Mashiho groans, as I head to my bedroom.
I drop onto my bed. I'm physically exhausted, but I know I won't be able to close my eyes and allow sleep to whisk me away. Instead, I see a beautiful set of green eyes burning as they look back at me. Her full lips close in on mine. I imagine the passion in her promised kiss igniting sparks in the area surrounding us. My hand ghosts over the skin of my belly. Up, and down, and around my stomach, creeping lower.
Even though I imagine it's Lisa touching me, my body knows better. I don't feel the same heat and tingles when I touch myself as I do when she touches me, the same fire burning deep in my belly.
Maybe the reason I can't stop thinking about her, don't want to stop thinking about her, is because I'm in need of a good fuck. A real physical release. Like hot, sweaty flesh on top of hot sweaty flesh. It's entirely possible that my body is craving attention and my heart is getting confused in the physical turmoil. After all, I've been living like a nun since Han died.
We had a very healthy sex life. We had sex as often as time permitted, and were always up for trying new things. New places. New positions. New sensations. And then we added toys. They made what was already great sex a mind-blowing-all-consuming-addiction. For both of us.
And then I stopped cold turkey.
My skin goose fleshes as my fingers creep just below the waistband of my panties. Over my mound, they continue south on their journey. My body is taut as my fingers slide between my damp folds. I gasp and throw my head back as I slip a finger inside and pretend it's Lisa.
As if she knows what I'm thinking, my phone chimes with a text message. I hope its Lisa. I want it to be her. My heart thumps with excitement. I abandon my current mission, and reach for my phone instead. It is her! I want to jump up and down on the bed in celebration.
Lisa: Want to know a secret?
Me: Depends. Is it juicy?
She's typing. I sit up in bed and stare at the dots on the screen eager for her response. It's not coming fast enough. I'm too excited. Too intrigued. I feel like a five year old promised an ice-cream sundae if I behave. Given the option, I'll take a serving of Lisa drenched in chocolate syrup with a cherry on top. Preferably my cherry on top.
Lisa: I didn't throw Mashiho in my car and race to you just because he was upset.
I cover my mouth and suck my lips into a thin line between my teeth. She's waiting for a response. I need to say something, but what? I tap my finger on the screen, thinking.
Me: Why did you bring him?
It's lame, but I can't think of anything better and I don't want to keep her hanging for too long. My hands tremble while I wait for her response. The dots start and stop several times before her message comes across.
Lisa: I was worried and needed to see for myself that you were okay.
Me: Needed to?
Lisa: Yes. Or else I'd worry when I didn't see you that you were seriously hurt and not just avoiding me.
Oh shit. I can't believe she knows what I've been doing and called me on it. And still, she's been so nice to me.
Me: Why would I avoid you?
Lisa: Could be a lot of reasons so I'm not taking it personally. Yet. I guess the question is now that you know I want you, are you going to keep hiding or meet me half way.
My chest feels heavy with my heart pounding like a sledge hammer as I read and reread her text. She wants me. Thank goodness she's not here to see the big-ass smile covering my face.
Me: Are you calling me a coward?
Lisa: If I am are you ready to prove me wrong?
I hesitate while trying to catch my breath. It's coming quick, along with my racing pulse.
Me: I tried meeting you half way earlier. You were the one that chickened out.
Lisa: Chickened out, huh? You know what that comment is going to get you?
Me: What?
Lisa: Pinned underneath me.
Me: You wouldn't.
Lisa: Is that a challenge? Don't forget, I'm quite good at it. I get paid to teach others how to do it.
Me: Is that all you're going to do? Prove your dominance by pinning me?
Lisa: Once I have you where I want you, you'll be at my mercy. And I think in your case, being merciful means helping you give in to every feeling and desire you're afraid to let yourself feel.
Me: You're that sure of yourself huh?
Lisa: Yes. And I'm that sure of you, too. We'll be good together. I promise.
She's pursuing me. She's pushing the issue, and it feels amazing. More and more she's invading my thoughts, and continues to thaw my frozen heart. I already feel things I'm afraid to feel, and they aren't just the sexual desires I'm rediscovering. They're actual feelings.
It's the excited anticipation of seeing someone that with just a simple smile or look makes me feel beautiful and relevant in a world I thought forgot me. It's the fact that she's reaching in with her strong hands and yanking me out of the black hole of loneliness and sorrow that sucked me in and suffocated me for the last two years. It's the fact that for the first time since my husband died, I can look at a blue sky and feel hope, instead of resentment that somewhere out there someone is falling in love for the first time.
Lisa: You're awfully quiet. Did I lose you?
Me: You wish
Lisa: Never. I don't want to lose you. I want to catch you and wrap you up in my arms.
I melt a little more with every word she types.
Lisa: Where are you right now?
Me: Home, where you left me.
Lisa: Wise ass huh? Where in your house?
Me: In bed.
Lisa: Are you thinking about that kiss like I told you to?
I take a deep breath, surprised she asked.
Me: Maybe.
Lisa: I told you one of my secrets, now it's your turn.
Me: I don't have any secrets.
Lisa: I call bullshit. I see mischief hidden in those beautiful cat-like eyes of yours.
She thinks my eyes are beautiful. The woman needs to look in the mirror.
Me: You think you know me that well?
Lisa: I'm trying. I want to know you that well.
Pause. My heart thrums. I know I should question it, ask why, but at the moment, I don't care why. I only care that she wants to.
Lisa: Where are your hands?
I hesitate, nervous and excited to take the conversation in this direction.
Me: I'm using the fingers on one hand, moving them back and forth and all around the screen, while the other is holding on tight to my phone.
Lisa: Too bad. I was hoping they were moving over your hot body.
Me: What if they are? Or were before you texted me.
Lisa: Then I hope you were thinking of me.
Me: What are you going to do once you have me pinned under you?
Lisa: Is anything off the table?
Me: Honestly, no.
Lisa: Then close your eyes and imagine it. Fantasize about what you want me to do. How you want me to touch you. Where you want me to kiss you. Everywhere you want to feel me.
Is it me or is the phone fifty degrees hotter than it was when we started texting?
Me: Where are your hands?
Lisa: I'm using one to type and drink my beer.
Me: And the other?
Lisa: Touching myself the way I wish you were touching me right now. With long slow strokes . . . Through my hair.
I laugh.
Me: I had no idea you wanted me that way.
Lisa: Then you'll be surprised to learn every way I want you.
Me: Do tell.
Lisa: Nah, it will be much more fun showing you.
Me: I really don't know how to thank you. For everything.
Lisa: I'm sure we'll come up with something. I'll leave you on that note.
Me: I have a confession. Before you texted me, I was touching myself and thinking of you.
Lisa: If it makes you feel better, I'm doing the same. Now get some sleep. And have sweet dreams of my hands all over your body.
Me: I'll do my best.
I clench the phone close to my chest for the next fifteen minutes, playing with the idea of messaging her again. That give and take was fun. I want more of it. More joking and teasing. More promises of what's going to come. Really I just want more of Lisa any way I can get her.