6. Henry
Islept like a log, and if the creases on my cheek were any indication, I’d barely moved all night. When my head had initially hit the pillow, it was the fascinating Roxie that had filled both my visions and my thoughts.
For a year, I’d been floundering. Barely a day had gone by, hell, barely a waking hour had gone by when my thoughts hadn’t turned to Jane.
When I’d called our relationship to an end, I’d done it for her sake. Her devastation had been both physically evident and gut-wrenching. I’d never meant to hurt her. I’d also never meant for our relationship to become serious. It was meant to be fun.
It was fun. For twelve glorious months. Sexy, titillating fun.
But I’d let it go too long. That’s why it had crushed her when I’d ended it.
It crushed me, too. The temptation to pick up the phone and talk to her had been so huge I’d deleted her number from my phone.
That’s when I’d plummeted to a new low. Lower than when I’d walked in on my wife and my best friend having sex on the deck chair by the pool.
Sure, that was bad. It was the epitome of fucking horrible.
I’d lost a great mate and my wife in one horrific moment.
But by that stage, our marriage had been in shambles. We’d been slipping apart for years and out of love for just as many. In hindsight, I should have had the balls to end our marriage well before it became ugly.
Helen’s infidelity had been the catalyst for our divorce.
Breaking up with Jane, however, had been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. Sure, I could’ve been selfish. I would have loved to whisk Jane off her feet and show all the tossers at the country club the beautiful woman I loved who was half my age.
But I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t have lived with myself, either.
And although ending our relationship was the right thing to do, it didn’t stop me from hitting rock bottom afterward.
For the beginning half of this year, I hadn’t wanted to go anywhere. Hadn’t wanted to see anybody. Hell, I barely wanted to get out of bed.
If I hadn’t had my own business, I would have stayed home all day and night. Going to work was like going to a funeral. And I’d had my share of those in my life.
The birth of my granddaughter was the catalyst that dragged me out of my stupor. She was beautiful, sweet, innocent, and perfect. And my own daughter positively blossomed as a new mother.
However, there was one massive drawback to the new addition to my family. The birth of my granddaughter meant I had many situations where I had to mingle with my ex. The last thing I wanted was for the bitch to see me so disheveled. I’d always taken pride in the way I’d looked. And I’d really let myself go.
So, I took up running. Pounding the pavement was akin to pounding out anger and depression. I came to look forward to my morning workout. My body appreciated it, too. In just three months, I’d lost twenty pounds. I felt stronger and fitter than I had in a long time.
Although my ex would never admit it, I’d caught her checking me out a few times.
Yesterday, when I’d caught Roxie looking at me, I thanked my lucky tree that I’d turned my life around. I felt good, and if the look on Roxie’s face was anything to go by, she liked what she saw.
Smiling as I thought of Roxie, I flicked back the bed covers and wandered to the bathroom. Ten minutes later, I had my joggers on and was heading out of the Marriott hotel. I was eternally grateful that the conference wasn’t held at Jane’s hotel this year. Had the conference been held at the Hot Horizon Hotel, I wouldn’t have come.
And if I hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have met the lovely Roxie.
The sun was hovering low on the horizon, nearly in the exact position where the moon had been last night when Roxie had whipped her dress up over her head. She sure knew how to act spontaneously. Finding her in the tree was shock enough, but never in my wildest dreams could I have anticipated her other cheeky surprises.
I jogged up the running path that ran parallel to both the beach and the road. I breathed in nice and deep, sucking the crisp morning air into my lungs. I felt good. No, it was better than that. I felt amazing.
On top of the world, actually.
Roxie was the reason for that.
I hadn’t been with a woman since I’d broken up with Jane. Twelve months. Twelve long months. But yesterday broke that curse. It was ironic that it was twelve months to the day since I’d last brought a woman to orgasm. Like a grand celebration to mark the end of a bout of mourning. And what a grand celebration it was.
Roxie’s body was stunning. Her breasts were a perfect cupful. Her waist was narrow, and her hips were full. Her lips were a fabulous shade of cherry, and her eyes were like no other I’d ever seen. I could look into those eyes forever.
But while her looks were incredible, they paled in comparison to her personality. I couldn’t remember ever meeting a woman like her. She was unpredictable, to say the least. She seemed like fun, too.
I checked my watch. In just four hours, I’d be meeting her again, and I couldn’t wait.
My jog took me nearly the full length of Surfers Paradise. At the end, I slowed to a walk, selected a café amongst the abundant choices, and sat at a table overlooking the view. I had no idea how many times I’d visited Surfers Paradise last year. At least ten or so.
Jane was the reason for that. But I’d grown to love the bustling beachside metropolis. If you scratched just beneath the tourist surface, it was easy to find classy restaurants, stylish boutique shops, and places to enjoy the views that were away from the abundant visitors.
Roxie had said she’d meet me in the parking lot of the little café near the beach. I knew the café well. I’d frequented it often as a child and once more with Jane. Today, however, I planned on taking Roxie somewhere much more exhilarating.
I’d already phoned my mate to request a favor, and as I knew Nicholas would, my mate had agreed without question.
After breakfast, I walked back to the hotel and rang my daughter.
“Hey, daddy.”
“Hey, sweetheart, how’s my favorite daughter?”
“I’m your only daughter.” Our routine opening discussion never became tiresome.
Maleigha, on the other hand, sounded tired. “How’s Olivia?”
“I think she’s teething; she kept us up half the night.”
“Well, she is the right age for it.”
“Hmmm, I know. Are you home yet?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling. I’m not going to be home in time to see you before you fly.” My daughter was heading to Fiji for Christmas. She and her fiancé had decided it was the best opportunity before Olivia began crawling and before Maleigha had to return to work. I wasn’t sure a holiday in Bali was a great idea with a six-month-old. But what would I know?
“Oh, daddy. I was hoping you could come over and help with Olivia for a couple of hours while I pack.”
I felt terrible now. Maleigha and I had always been very close. She was Daddy’s little girl. Always had been. Since Olivia was born, however, the only time she wanted to see me was when she needed my help. Then again, that’s what fathers were for. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Something’s come up, and I can’t get home in time.” My gut twisted with my deceit.
Maleigha sighed. “Okay then, I’ll try Mom, but she’s probably busy as usual.”
We said our goodbyes, and by the time I hung up the phone, I felt like a selfish bastard.
I walked to the kitchenette and turned on the kettle. As I waited for it to boil, my mind flicked to Roxie. Was she that important that I was willing to forego a couple of hours with my daughter?
That’s all I would have had with Maleigha. Just a couple of hours.
And those hours would have been hectic as hell. Maleigha would be whizzing around the house, getting it ready for the house sitter and packing her enormous suitcase that had seen its fair share of travel.
By the time my coffee was ready and I was seated on the balcony overlooking the beach, I decided that if I had gone home to see my daughter, we would’ve barely had any conversation before she left for the airport. Then, once I’d waved them goodbye, I would have driven to my home twenty minutes away.
My empty home.
I didn’t even have a dog. I’d contemplated getting a pet a few times but preferred to have the freedom to leave whenever I wanted. I’d also contemplated moving into a retirement village. I could do that. Now that I was sixty.
Sixty! I could hardly believe it myself.
But age didn’t matter when it came to making a woman orgasm. I liked to think of myself as somewhat of an expert on the topic. I could thank my wife for that. For just over twenty years, we’d had incredible sex.
Mind-blowing sex.
She’d taught me where to touch. How to touch. How hard or how soft to touch. I learned every way possible to bring her to orgasm. Sometimes without even touching her. It was the most glorious thing to watch a woman lose herself to carnal bliss. Helen and I openly discussed sex and our bodies, and I liked to think I’d become a wonderful lover.
But once Helen turned thirty, that all changed. She lost her sensuality and began to hate her looks and hate herself.
And we stopped having sex with the lights on. Soon, she didn’t want to have sex at all.
Except with my best mate.
I groaned at that thought. I wasn’t going to let my confusion over Helen cloud my thoughts about Roxie.
I had a great feeling about Roxie, and I believed in fate.
Despite barely four hours together, I had a feeling we were destined to meet.
Then again, I’d thought the same about Helen. And my bastard friend who she’d slept with.