It’s quitting time. The workweek is over, and a bunch of my colleagues invited me out for drinks with them. I declined, giving some lame-ass excuse that I already had plans, but truth be told, I don’t feel like doing anything other than going home, eating a carton of Ben & Jerry, and falling into a coma-like sleep.
I’m exhausted, both mentally and physically.
Why you ask?
Well, I’ll tell you.
I spent two days in Chicago with Matt, watching him depose witness after witness, while paying keen attention to his cat and mouse game so that I could take the best notes possible. At night, he kept me awake until the early morning hours, making love to me over and over and over again. He was insatiable. I was insatiable. We couldn’t get enough of each other, but I drew the line when Matt wanted to pull me into the bathroom on the airplane so we could both join the Mile High Club.
When we got back late Wednesday night, he shared a cab with me, giving me a quick kiss goodnight when he dropped me off at my apartment. I was too tired to even cop a feel of his muscled body, merely mumbling a goodbye to him.
The rest of the week, I spent jumping to do Lorraine’s every whim. Matt was off traveling again Thursday morning to Atlanta, and that seemed to give Lorraine a renewed sense of power over me. I swear, one day she even asked me to get a cup of coffee for her, but I faked a bout of diarrhea and told her I had to use the bathroom to get out of it. Every time after that, if she even looked like she was going to ask me to do something, I’d clutch at my stomach, hunch my body over, and moan with a pathetic look on my face. She’d wrinkle her nose in distaste and as soon as she was gone from my sight, I’d laugh out loud over my deviousness.
I haven’t heard from Matt, not that I expected to. On no less than three occasions after he brought me to a screaming orgasm, he didn’t even wait for my heart rate to get back to normal before he would lean over me with a worried look in his eyes and say, “You know this is just sex, right?”
I’d dutifully say ‘right,’ and then gasp as he started kissing me again.
So, even though he was clear that it was just sex, and even though he made sure I understood that he wasn’t relationship material, I still was sort of pining to hear from him. Yes, I know… it’s sex… just sex. And great sex at that.
But I’m a woman. We get our feelings all mushed up in this stuff, and even though my brain rationally tells me not to let my heart get involved, it’s kind of hard not to. I mean, there is more to Matt than just sex. He’s an attorney I’ve come to respect a great deal in the short time I’ve known him. He’s passionate about his work and is a champion for the underdog. He’s a great employer, treating everyone fairly and equally. Also, he’s funny as hell, and when he doesn’t have me sobbing out in pleasure, he has me laughing so hard in bed that I’m terrified I’m going to make the faux pas of all faux pas. The dreaded fart while you’re lying in your lover’s arms.
Luckily, that hasn’t happened… yet.
I finally broke down this morning and sent Matt a short email, asking him when he got a chance if he could email those articles he mentioned on biomechanical engineering. I really didn’t want them… actually wanted to puke from the thought of having to read them, but I wanted… no, needed, some type of contact from Matt.
After all, as a woman, I’m entitled to my period of insecurity and self-doubt that would assuredly overwhelm me at any minute and convince myself that Matt actually hates me and wants nothing to do with me.
When Matt replied to my email around lunchtime, I was so excited I choked on a piece of brown rice sushi that I was trying to swallow. After I hacked it up and spit it in the garbage, I opened the email, eager to suck down the details of some witty or flirty response he would send me.