18. Pandora’s Box
18 /
pandora’s box
Tripp
Lila has been asleep for at least an hour, but I can’t seem to drift off.
My mind won’t stop, won’t turn off. She’s too good. Too young. Too smart. She’s too different from me. Too beautiful. Too…everything .
Love or commitment or marriage has never been something I’ve sought out. I realize I’m probably one step away from being classified as a hermit. I’m fine being alone. Yet, as I lie here with this woman in my arms, I definitely feel some kind of way. Lots of kinds of ways, to be honest. I’ve wanted her for a long time, longer than is appropriate. She was a teenager, and I was a grown man who hated myself for wanting her like this. It was so wrong.
But now? She’s right. There is an age difference between us—a substantial one—but she is an adult, yes. And she can make her own decisions.
I’ve been inside of her now. I’ve felt the incomparable clench of her cunt as she came all over me and I came inside of her. I’ve heard her cries and her moans. And I want more. Much more.
But that’s the problem, right? Just because I want something doesn’t mean I can—or should—get to have it. Nothing has changed. Lila is still too young for me. Yes, old enough to make choices with her body. No, not old enough to be with a man my age. Our families are too close, and it would be too weird. Nothing, and I mean literally nothing , has changed in how I feel about this.
I was weak.
I let myself cross a line.
I won’t do it again.
Lila’s asleep on her side, still gloriously naked, her luscious ass bared to me, her arm bent so that her hand rests on the pillow beside her beautiful face. Her lips are full and perfect and the thought of them around my cock makes me break out in gooseflesh, desire boiling within me. I want to take her again and I know she’d be so willing, so responsive.
I’ve opened this Pandora’s box and I know if I leave it open too long, I will be lost.
I have to force myself to roll away, to cover her with the comforter and step into the bathroom. I shut the door and let out a breath I had no idea I was holding. I start the shower, not as eager to remove the scent of her from my skin as I am to wash away my shame for allowing things to go this far, for letting my resolve waver.
In the hot water, steam swirling around me, I let my eyes close, my mind only on the sleeping woman out in that bed. I replay every moment, every touch, my fingers inside of her, her mouth on my cock, her nipples between my teeth. My hand finds its way to my cock, now hard, and I stroke, unable to stop myself.
I don’t hear Lila step in, I only feel her hands on my ass, then on my thighs. Her hand joins mine, stroking. I want to cry, it feels so good and also so wrong.
“Where did you go?” she whispers in my ear, just the sound of her sleepy, husky voice nearly enough to send me over the edge.
I can’t even open my mouth to form a thought while her hands are on me. So, I just let her stroke me, even though I know I should tell her to stop.
“Will you touch me, too?” she asks, with her lips against my shoulder
When I turn, I meet her dark eyes and we pleasure each other, my fingers playing at her clit, in her folds, in her cunt. She sags against my touch with a sigh, trembling with a need I will have to satisfy. For her. For me.
I’m barely thinking coherently when I push her against the wall, picking her up, shoving inside of her. I feel her fingertips grip at my hair as I sink my cock in deep, fucking her hard against the shower tile as she moans for more.
The act of being with her like this is something so profound I’m certain I’m losing my mind. It can’t possibly be real I’m making love with the only woman I’ll ever truly want. I’ve dreamed about having this experience with Lila. Imagined being inside her and craved to know how she looks when she’s about to come. The reality of that picture is without words to describe it. But it’s when she says my name that I come completely undone. “Tripppp…please, I—I need—Ahh…I’m gonna com?—”
I can’t stop the implosion of heat down low in my balls, the frantic acceleration of one monster orgasm about to blow. It’s happening as she starts to come in my arms, and then for me as well. We come together, violently, loudly, our mouths meeting to cover the sound. Her tongue probes for mine and I keep pumping, unable to stop myself from emptying everything inside of her. I can only pray she’s taken precautions because I certainly haven’t.
It’s that thought that douses me with a bucket of ice cold reality.
None of this is right. Fuck me. This was so irresponsible. I don’t do this kind of shit. Bareback fucking with no conversation whatsoever about what’s on the table beforehand?
That’s a first. And it should be a last.
When I set her down, we stare at one another for a long time. I’m committing this to memory. I don’t even want to imagine what Lila’s thinking.
“I can’t do this again,” I finally say.
“Can’t do what again?” Her dark eyes search mine.
“This.” I try to memorize the feel of her soft skin and the sight of her beautifully naked body next to mine.
“I thought we established that we are both adults. We can be together if we want.”
“It’s still wrong, Lila. I’m too old for you. I’ve always been too old for you. I can’t even imagine what our families would say.”
“Who gives a shit what our families would say?” she snaps, fire in her eyes. “We can make our own decisions.”
“And I am. Making a decision.” I step past her, out into the cold, sterile space of the hotel bathroom. I take a towel with me into the bedroom and dry off as I find my clothes. Dressing as quickly as I can before she comes out to argue with me, I shoulder my backpack, and then head out to face the storm, both the one on the ground and the one in my soul.
When the door shuts behind me, I feel in my bones that this is it. That walking away means I will never be with her again. And I feel some anxiety about that, but I also know it’s the right thing to do. Lila deserves to be with someone her age, someone with more life ahead of them. She deserves someone who thinks like she thinks, who challenges her intellect. She deserves better than me, a nearly retired hockey player with no life plans past age thirty-seven.
The best I can hope for is that she can chalk this up as a dip into the dark side of desires, a fulfillment of a childhood crush. I can wish that she will finally move on now.
I won’t.
Because now I’ve had the taste of her that I can’t get off my tongue, the taste of her I’ll be craving forever.
In the airport, I grab a seat, lay my head back against the wall, and allow myself to drift off in spite of the strange apprehension that plagues me. My knee bounces frenetically, even as my eyes get heavy. The sleep is light and unsatisfying, and I’m awakened by a series of buzzes at my hip, texts on my phone alerting me that I have a new flight in two hours.
Groggy, I stand and stretch before heading toward my new gate, finding Lila there, back in her turtleneck and jeans and boots, her hair back up in that messy bun. She sneaks one quick glance at me before frowning and looking intently back at her phone.
I sit down in the row behind her, feeling awkward. If this was the right decision, I should feel better about it, right? But also, it was just sex. Really, really great sex, but just sex. We’ve both had sex before. We can be adults about this. Ultimately, getting this out of our systems should be freeing for us both.
Okay, I know…this is all bullshit. I’m lying to myself.
I send her a text that I have to rewrite like five times before I send it.
Tripp: I’m sorry for leaving you
Lila: …
Tripp: What’s that mean?
Lila: I don’t know how to respond.
Tripp: I’m just saying that I’m sorry
Lila: And you want me to just be okay with that?
Lila: I don’t understand you.
Tripp: What is there to understand?
Lila: We’ve both admitted to wanting each other, for a long time. We’re both adults. What’s the problem?
Tripp: The same problem as always
Lila: Which is what? You’re too old? I’m too young? Our parents would be weirded out?
Tripp: Bare minimum, yes
Lila: Well, you need to get over it.
For whatever reason, this makes me laugh out loud. She turns around and glares at me, so I try to cover it by coughing. When she turns away, I decide to move to sit next to her. She still won’t look at me, so I text her again.
Tripp: Look, it weirds me out big time that I was a grown man having a thing for a teenager
Tripp: Like a really grown man
Tripp: Too fucking old
Tripp: It was gross
Lila: Well, it was reciprocal. And I think that means something.
Tripp: In no world can I pretend you aren’t beautiful
Tripp: And smart and motivated and good
Tripp: I’m about to be an ex-pro hockey player
Tripp: What the fuck could you ever see in that?
Lila: I’m not trying to trap you, here. I find you attractive. I liked having sex with you.
Tripp: I liked it too
Lila: People grow up. I’m not a child anymore. I can make my own choices. I won’t feel bad about taking something I’ve wanted for a long time.
Lila: I don’t put myself out there, Tripp. But I did with you. And you walked out.
Lila: Doesn’t do a lot for the ego, to be honest.
I sneak a glance at her and find her cheeks flushed pink. I realize that maybe she thinks I didn’t like being with her, that maybe she thinks I didn’t enjoy it or didn’t find it good enough to merit wanting more. Christ, that was not the case at all.
Tripp: You are perfect, Lila
Tripp: I mean it
Tripp: But wanting something and having it is not the same
Tripp: And I’ve never been one to want relationships and marriage and kids and stuff
Lila: Who says I want all of those things, Tripp? You’re making an assumption about what I want without talking to me about it. You just chose for both of us and then walked out.
“Women always want those things,” I say out loud, forgetting to text it instead.
Fuck.
Lila shoves her phone in her bag and stands up with a gruff growl of a sound. “I give up, Tripp. Come talk to me when you realize it’s not the nineteen-sixties anymore.”