Story 80

Sequel to Story 79.

“Hey! What’s wrong?” He asked placing his hand on her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Shit. Don’t do that.” She yelled.
“Okay, calm down.” He said raising both his hands.
“Let me get the blanket and the pillow, I will sleep on the couch and not bother you until you are ready to talk.” He said and started to walk towards the bedroom.
“Wait.” She yelled. “Don’t go inside. Stay here. I will get the blanket and the pillow.” Saying so she went inside and hoped he would not follow. She took out the blanket and the pillow and walked back to the living room. Thankfully he had not moved from where he was standing.

She handed him the stuff and waited as he placed the pillow on the couch and opened the blanket. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. She watched him as he took off his pants. He stood there in his boxers and looked at her. Maybe, he was hoping she would go into his arms. She stood there watching him as he finally settled on the couch and covered his semi-nude body with the blanket.
Tell him, a voice inside her head said to her. Tell him before it is too late.

“Hey! What are you doing in the living room?” she heard a voice from behind her and she froze. Shit, she whispered. She turned around to look at him, the man in her bed had stepped out of the bed, walked out of the bedroom and was standing in the living room.
“Who is this man?” she heard a voice from behind her. This time it was her semi-nude boyfriend who had stepped out of the blanket. She turned around to face him.
“I will explain.” She said.
“Is this why you did not want to talk to me?” her boyfriend asked and then the three of them were blinded by lightning and the thundering shook them all. Then, there was only the sound of rain. 

She sat on a chair and held her head in her hands. “No, this is not why I did not want to talk to you.” She finally said.
“He’s just a friend.” She clarified. “Why is this friend of yours walking out of your bedroom at this time of the night?” her boyfriend asked her. “Put on a shirt asshole and button your jeans” he said to the man. “Hey, mind your language.” The man retaliated and then turned towards her.
“I thought you loved me.” He said. She looked up at him with a questioning look. Why was he making it worse for her? “It was a long time ago.” She said and turned to look towards her boyfriend who had put on his pants and was buttoning his shirt.
“Let me explain” she said to him with tears in her eyes.
“He’s the one from your college?” her boyfriend asked.
“Yes.” She replied.
“Okay.” He said. She looked at him. She wanted to kiss him right there, in front of the man from her past. She wanted to do what he had done to her once. He had chosen to push her away and now he wanted to come back into her life and ruin what she had. She would not let him do it. She would not.
“Put on your shirt.” She said to him. “And go home when it stops raining.” She added.


It continued to rain for a long time. The three of them sat in the living room fully dressed. She was glad she had told her boyfriend about the man from the past. She knew she would have to explain the man’s presence in her bedroom but she also knew that her boyfriend trusted her.
He had been angry before when he did not know who the man was but his demeanour had changed once she had told him who the man was. That was the best part about transparency in a relationship.
The subject of their argument had still to be addressed; she was not simply going to forgive him because of the guilt she felt for allowing another man in her bedroom.
She knew nothing had happened between the two of them and now her boyfriend believed it as well.

“Can I stay a little longer?” her boyfriend asked. “Yeah, of course.” She replied and once again there was silence.

The way she had dismissed him had silenced the other man. He now knew there was no way she was going to let him in her life.


He had seen her at the supermarket. It had been years but she still looked the same. Beautiful, as always. He wanted to get to know her again. She had been on his mind since his wife, one out of the trio, had told him what had actually happened at the café that day. She had chosen to tell him in a letter she had written for him as she left him for another man.


“You would be happy with someone like her. You do not deserve to be with a free spirit like me.” She had written. The woman he had loved. The woman he had married. The woman he had a child with once. They both had felt that it was too early in the relationship and had decided to abort. Then, they had a long-distance relationship for a while as they studied in different universities and then finally had gotten married.
Their marriage had been a roller-coaster ride. The sex was always good, but the understanding, the caring and respect was lost. The time to have sex was always her decision. He’d return home tired from work and she’d start with the foreplay. He’d tell her he was tired but she’d anyways undress him and get on top.
Whenever he wanted to have sex, she’d tell him that she was not interested and lock herself in the bedroom, leaving him stranded in the living room.

On their last day, she had cooked dinner for him. They had sex, the best sex of his life; and then ate dinner in bed. He’d fallen asleep resting his head on her chest and had woken up hugging a pillow instead. She was not in bed. He had put on his clothes and searched for her. She was not at home. When he’d come back to the bedroom he had found the note under the pillow he had been hugging. He had never doubted that there was another man. He should have known but he was a fool; a fool who was blindly in love with his wife.
After reading the note he had thought about his friend, the other one whom he had left behind long back! He had tried to find her whereabouts.

When he saw her at the supermarket he felt as if the universe was giving them a second chance. He walked up to her and surprised her. The way she looked at him, he knew immediately that his wife had been right. This woman loved him. How had he missed this during college days? He wondered. He was going to change that.

After the chance meeting at supermarket he found ways to cross her path. He exchanged numbers with her, found out where she lived. Found out that she had a boyfriend now. He found out that she had a fight with her boyfriend. He decided to capitalise on the situation. He found his way to her house. Before going to her house, he made two stops.
One at a bar and the second one at medical store where he bought a condom.
He was drunk when he rang the doorbell to her apartment. He had gotten lucky to be able to enter the building when another resident rang herself in saving him the trouble of having to wait until she rang him in. That way, his presence outside her apartment door was going to be a surprise for her.
He could not stop staring at her as she opened the door to him. She looked beautiful. She was wearing shorts and a tank top.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he tried to step in. She did not stop him from entering. That was a good sign. She asked him to wait in the living room as she went to the bedroom and returned wearing a t-shirt and track pants. He had used this time to take off his shirt. And, when she returned he started weeping.
She rushed towards him and sat next to him on the couch. He hugged her and she wrapped her arms around him after a while. The touch of her breasts against his bare chest felt good; he wanted to take off her t-shirt and feel her bare skin over his. He had to wait for that, he reminded himself.

He let go of her and wiped his tears. He told her the story. The one he had rehearsed several times at the bar. The story that was partly true. He presented it in a way that indicated his life was ruined the moment his wife had walked out on him. Yes, he was hurt – his ego was hurt but apart from that he felt nothing. He knew their relationship was on the verge of an end. He appreciated that she fucked him one last time before leaving. The goodbye sex was fantastic. Yes, he was jealous that she left him for another man but he did not regret not having her in his life. He had a second chance here; to be with the woman who loved him, the woman who, it seemed, would be good in bed as well. He was aching to make love to her. Wild love that would make her beg for more. She would be the one under him and not on top the way his wife preferred. He would be in control of the act. He would thrust into her and make her moan and he would come into her and not let her come until he was ready. He was going to enjoy her body to the fullest.

He did not realize he had been staring at her breasts as he fantasized about her until she got up from the couch all of a sudden. “It’s late, you should leave” she said. No, that was not how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to console him, he was supposed to kiss her and she was supposed to kiss him back and then they were supposed to make love.

He got up to go, he walked a few steps and then collapsed on the floor. She rushed to pick him up. He saw her rushing to the kitchen to get a glass of water. She splashed water on his face and he pretended to regain consciousness. Then, with her help he managed to reach her bedroom and get into her bed. He was getting closer …
But, he fell asleep. Damn alcohol. When he woke up she was not in bed. He could hear voices in the living room. Her stupid boyfriend was in her apartment. He climbed out of bed, unbuttoned his jeans and then walked out of the bedroom.


They sat in the living room without saying a word. She was sitting on a chair; her boyfriend was back on the couch and the man from her past was sitting on another chair. Finally, she got up from the chair and walked towards her boyfriend. She sat on the couch and held his hand. He tightened the grip. Neither of them looked at the second man in the room.
They waited for the rain to stop and when it finally did she broke the silence. “You should leave.” She told the man. He got up without a word and walked towards the door. He turned around to see her before leaving but immediately regretted doing so. This was not what he wanted to remember for the rest of his life. She was kissing her boyfriend. His hand was under her t-shirt and she had wrapped her arms around his neck.

Whatever misunderstanding they had; the one he had decided to capitalise on was temporarily forgotten.

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silent whispers

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