The More Things Change

I slip silently from the 300 thread silk sheets we brought with us. He doesn’t move at all. It’s early yet and I can barely see what I’m doing. The darkness in my eyes still getting in the way. I stumble a little and find support in the bathroom door. And I find the chair where my things ended up. At least some of them did.

I look back at Johnny, and smile as I think of the night. Our night. Together.

It’s always the same amazing same with Johnny and just thinking of it makes the rest of the world go away. The world with all the imponderables of the changes that will surely come now.

There’s joy in my heart, vying with that animal urge still in me as I watch his chest gently rise and fall. I see the length of him and his best features begin to stand out as my eyes work better now. The well worked-out butt; those two dimples at the bottom of his back and the broad strong shoulders that are in his DAN, lucky man. I tiptoe over his discarded clothes from the night before. Debris from the frenzied abandon as we tore at each other in the very seconds we made it back to the room.

I make out my things and dress. The gossamer thin of the Italian lace feels off this morning, so different from just a few hours ago. In my haste to leave, I’m as quiet as I can be and dressing is a struggle a little in my caution not to wake him.

For I have to go, and I know he will try and stop me. He will plead and beg to draw me back for one more time. One last time. Before the next time, that is.

For we know, despite our caution, that there will always be another time.

And there is a conversation to be had, and it will have to be quite soon. For this can’t go on as it is. Not know it’s out there and beginning to show. Some will notice – are noticing – and the questions are starting to come. And they can’t be held off forever.

We both know that.

Things are coming to a head for us, and it’s exciting, joyful, and hotly anticipated, not to say scary as well. We both know times are changing and we really can’t do this much more.

I make my way downstairs to the truck and get in and ready to start it up. I take a moment there and breath slowly and wait for what will inevitably come. The thoughts of our selfish behaviour; the not growing up and the deeds we’re doing to each other. Is it right? Is it wrong? The yin and yang of our grimy affair days nudge me every time.

I’m in the cab, reaching around for my bag, to check my day, as the arm reaches through the cab window and grabs me, tightly.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He’s not quite shouting, but he’s got a pretty set jaw as he says it.

“Ouch. That hurts!”

I smile. I feign injury as required. For it doesn’t really and he’s already let go as he smiles his smile. The one that does things to me. Always. I melt into him as his face and mine come together again through the cab window and we kiss that deep kiss we have when we know where the play is going. It tastes of last night and this morning and, we both know, it’s a kiss that means only one thing.

He cajoles me out of the truck and knows my protests are meaningless, for I want him again, despite the other calls on my time. I want him again and again. I have to get out of the truck, go back up the steps, and wriggle from the darkest-black lingerie he paid half a ransom for, as his clothes fly off too and I leap back into that bed with Johnny for another frantic round.

“Fuck’s sake Johnny, wasn’t last night enough?” I say, feigning annoyance, in the way it always goes. Making it all the more compelling. The longing, all the more heightened. Even after last night.

I know. I know. It’s amazing.

And then I smile again we get to it once more. No, three times weren’t enough. It’s never enough for him, and the truth is, it’s never enough for me neither. Not with Johnny. Never has been.

Never will be.

It’s always best, the morning after. The game we play, with me ‘escaping’ and him chasing me down and dragging me back. It’s a part of the routine that’s not a routine at all. After we’re done, we lay for a while, the sweat pouring off. It’s not even 3-star here, so air-con was never part of the thinking and the heat is rising already as the sun snuck up on us through the window, while we weren’t watching. While we were doing other things to each other, none of our senses were pointed in any other direction. Just me on top of him. Just him in me.

Nothing else matters. There is no world outside us. The moment. Johnny and me. Me and Johnny.

I break the ice and move. I take my time in another shower. A long, hot, hard shower that spits and spikes at my skin as if in retribution for the pleasures of the night before. And the time in the morning again. I smile as I think about it, all to myself and catch myself doing it and then I laugh out loud. I get dressed more slowly this time, and watch Johnny as he gets ready for his day.

I make a couple of calls, slow down my morning and Johnny and I walk over to the diner for our lazy breakfast.

“When the baby comes, we will not be having time for this.” I smile at him as I toy with his lust.

He pats my belly gently, where I’m starting to show.

“I’m going to miss it.” And I can see he’s floated off miles away, for just a moment. Then he’s back with a hope.

“Surely, once the little one has settled in, your mom can give us a break now and then?” The puppy-like pleading is his eyes makes me catch my breath.

“So what are we gonna say to her. That we want to run off for another of our nights of sleazy passion?” I laugh as I think of the look on her face. I laugh too at the still hang-dog look on poor Johnny’s face.

“You think she doesn’t know what we do already?” He laughs back at me.

“Of course she does. I know. I know.”

This time, we bring our heads together again in a little moment. I put my hand over his on my belly and this time we both smile, that naughty smile of ours, that we both know means just one thing.

This marriage of ours.

Neither of us will let it go stale, that’s for sure.