Because I have sex for a living, it’s easy to think I could become inured to it. Jaded.
But having sex isn’t making love.
When Tony entered me, I felt like I final y had come home.
And then I came.
Just from him sliding inside me.
“Wow,” Tony said. “I do that to you?”
“Now,” I said, climbing on top of him, “watch what I can do to you.”
Although being with Tony wasn’t like being with a trick, that didn’t mean I wasn’t about to use everything I had learned. I rode him like he had never been rode, feeling him grow impossibly hard inside me. I stopped every time he got close and then sped up again.
“You’re kil ing me,” he cried, before final y flipping me back on my back. He made love to me slowly, and then quickly, passionately, kissing me the whole time and moaning against my lips.
My erection, which had never real y gone away, rubbed against his impressive abs.
“Jesus!” he cried when he final y came. “Holy fuck!”
I shot again against his stomach.
He col apsed on top of me and buried his face in my neck. I felt wetness there.
But whether it was sweat or tears I didn’t know.
I’d be lying if I said that the cuddling after sex is better than the actual act. But it does come pretty damn close.
Lying in Tony Rinaldi’s arms.
I could stay here forever.
But could he?
He pul ed me closer.
“That was incredible,” he said.
As good as your wife? I thought. Then I chided myself: Stop it! Stop indulging your doubts and focus on enjoying the moment.
“It was OK,” I said.
He rol ed on top of me. “Just OK?”
“Wel, it’s clear you’re out of practice.”
Tony frowned. “Hmmm. You’re right. Now, where could I get some more training, do you think?”
“Wel, I do offer advanced lessons for my more promising students.”
“More advanced than that? I think I’d have a heart attack, Kevvy.”
Kevvy. That’s what he used to cal me. I felt something inside myself blooming so large that I didn’t think I’d be able to contain it.
“You are kind of old,” I teased. “Maybe we’d have to start at the intermediate level.”
Tony started kissing his way down my body. “No time like the present.”
After the encore, I looked at the time. It was 6:00. I had to meet Freddy at 10:00 at Sexbar. Just then, my phone rang. I picked up the receiver by my couch. (I couldn’t bring myself to have sex with him in the bed where my mother had been sleeping.) Cal er ID told me it was the very woman who had forced me into the living room. I had learned not to skip her cal s.
“I have to take this,” I said to him.
“Mmm,” he said drowsily. “S’OK.”
I sat up on the couch and pressed talk. “What’s up, Mom?”
“Darling, it’s your mother.”
“Yes, I know that,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tel you I’d be home late. I’m going to Hannah Rosenberg’s house to play canasta.”
This was the best news I’d ever heard. “Great.
Have fun.” Tony’s hand crept around to my lap.
Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Al the girls in the shop today were talking about that bitch Dottie Kubacki’s encounter with a Peeping Tom last night. Most of them thought she’d made it up on the grounds that who would want to peep at Dottie Kubacki?”
Tony was pul ing me back into bed. “That’s nice, Mom,” I said.
“Wil you be OK for dinner without me?” she asked.
Tony put my hand on his reawakening erection.
“Don’t worry,” I told her. “I have what to eat.”
After the second encore (is there a word for that?) Tony and I realized we were starving. Not surprising, considering the amount of calories we must have burned off. Luckily, the fridge was stocked with the leftovers of several nights of my mother’s home cooking. We sat naked at the kitchen table and pigged out on pot roast and gravy sandwiches.
“I have to tel you something,” Tony said.
“Something I didn’t tel you before because I didn’t want to, wel
…”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “You didn’t want to get my hopes up, right?”
Tony grinned. “Yeah, that.”
“Listen,” I said. “How about I take responsibility for my hopes, and you take responsibility for being honest, OK?”
Tony’s eyes widened a little. “When did you get to be so smart? OK, wel, remember when we first met? How I told you I was married and that our relationship was so great? Wel, that wasn’t exactly the truth.”
“You’re not married.”
“We’re separated. Six months now. I don’t think we’re getting back together.”
“You don’t think?”
“I’m being honest here.”
Fair enough. “So, did this afternoon tilt the scales either way?” I regretted asking the question the minute the words left my mouth.
Tony looked down. Took a minute to answer. “I’m trying to keep things separate, if that makes sense.
Not let one thing decide another. I think I owe that to her. To myself, too. Can you understand that?”
“Sure,” I said quietly.
“But this afternoon was great. And,” he said licking his lips, “this pot roast is pretty great, too.”
“So, think we might do this again?” I asked hopeful y.
“Mmm.” Tony took another huge bite of his sandwich. “Wil there be more pot roast?”
“It’s possible,” I said.
Tony leaned over the table and kissed me. “Then you got me.”
After we finished eating, Tony and I, stil naked, went back into the living room and jumped into the sofa bed. I rested my head on his chest. His slow breathing was a narcotic. He asked if he could stay the night. I had to explain that I was meeting Freddy at 10:00.
“Sexbar?” he asked. “Isn’t that like some gay sex club or something?”
I nodded.
“You’re going to a sex club after the day we had together? Are you that insatiable?” He slapped me on the head.
“It’s work,” I told him. I explained that once a month, Freddy and I went there to hand out condoms and brochures about safer sex. It was a volunteer thing we did for the agency Freddy worked for.
I didn’t tel Tony that we did it in our underwear.
“OK,” Tony said, “then you have permission.” He kissed me on the forehead. “I think it’s great that you do this kind of thing. You have a big heart to do volunteer work.”
I stood up and took a playful bow. “Thank you.”
Tony stood, too, and put his arms around me. “But I don’t real y understand about your day job,” he said.
“What exactly is it that you do?”
Uh-oh. “I’m a man of mystery.”
Tony pul ed me closer. “No, seriously, what do you do?”
I had just told Tony that he needed to be honest in our relationship. Could I be any less?
But he was a cop. And a man. An Italian man.
Was there a chance he’d be able to accept how I made a living?
“Wel,” I began, not sure what I was going to say.
Just then, the door opened. “Darling,” my mother cal ed. “I’m home!”
Great, I thought. Last night, I spied on Dottie Kubacki naked and now my mother walks in on me and Tony in the buff.
Karma’s a bitch.
“Oh!” she cried. “Excuse me!” She covered her eyes. “I didn’t see a thing!”
“Hel o, Mrs. Connor,” Tony muttered.
“Tony?” my mother asked. I saw her spread her fingers apart as she peeked through them.
“Yes,” he groaned.
“I thought you were married?” she said.
“He’s separated,” I said.
“Oh, wel, that explains it, then.” She put her hands up to her eyes like blinders. “I’m just going to scoot into my bedroom (her bedroom!) and give you two a chance to, um, finish up. Nice seeing you,” she said to Tony. She took another peek at his naked butt. “
Really nice.”
“Uh, bye, Mrs. Connor,” Tony said.
As soon as she closed the door, Tony pul ed away and hurriedly got dressed. “Stil want to spend the night?” I asked.