32. 32
32
Tilly
I wake up with a smile that sticks around all day.
Dexter is… I really like him.
Already, I like him so much more than I should.
Or maybe not. Maybe I like him just the right amount, the same as he likes me. Maybe we’re in sync and this will work out and I’ll get the happily ever after that I missed with Carlos.
But the divorce makes me leery of things working out so perfectly.
So far, so good, I tell myself. It’s okay to feel hopeful. He’s not Carlos; Dexter is the farthest away from Carlos that I could possibly find.
Maybe this will work.
Dexter leaves early to get home and change for his classes and I have an hour to myself to tidy up our breakfast and the bedroom, and to shower and dress.
I can’t stop smiling as I pick out what I’m going to wear. It doesn’t help when I touch the headboard—the same place where I held on as Dexter made me come.
Twice.
I know men want sex, but I had no idea that there were men out there who focused so much on a woman’s pleasure. It’s as if Dexter is personally affronted if I don’t have multiple orgasms.
I like having multiple orgasms even more than Dexter likes giving them to me.
The late September day is sunny with a crispness to the air that hints of fall. Dexter and I missed out on weeks together, and for what?
The reasons seem hazy in the morning sunlight.
We are doing something wrong; a professor shouldn’t be dating his student, but it doesn’t seem all that bad this morning. As long as no one knows what’s going on, it will all be fine. Maybe happiness needs to come at a risk.
And if someone finds out, what’s the worst thing that can happen?
When I reach the classroom, I pause for a moment to remind myself not to be too familiar with Dexter. Keep it professional. Distant.
Do not run up to him and give him the kiss I want so much to give him.
I walk into class and my attention lasered in on Dexter, smiling like I didn’t wake up beside him and his hard cock a few hours ago. He’s standing behind the lectern, gripping the sides like he gripped my hips when I rode him last night.
My steps falter, not only because I can’t even look at Dexter without thinking of him inside me, but because Dexter is talking to a woman.
And smiling at her.
She’s a student; I’ve noticed her before because she sits at the front of the class and is always one of the first to comment when Dexter asks a question.
Her name is Hanna, and she’s very pretty, with dark, curling hair caught up in a ponytail and wire-rimmed classes. She’s wearing a short denim skirt with a frayed hem and a long-sleeve T-shirt that is tight and cropped so two inches of toned belly is visible.
Hanna is very young, young enough to be my daughter, if I’d started early enough.
How can Dexter… Why is he… Do I not matter? Did nothing matter, just like he said the first day?
The wave of jealousy that rushes through me at the speed of light is enough to make me catch my breath.
Does he still think he’s making a mistake?
When I was married, Carlos had laughed at my yoga practice, laughing that it wasn’t a real sport, that it didn’t do anything to my body, so I knew he wasn’t at the studio because he was interested in bettering himself. It was easy to discover that Heidi offered private sessions, and it was an easy guess that Carlos wasn’t there to buy me a gift card.
I was fairly certain my husband was having an affair, and I didn’t care.
I started to care later on when I realized knowing that Carlos was unfaithful meant I had to do something about it, and that would disrupt my life.
I didn’t want to disrupt my life, but I knew I couldn’t let Carlos continue with having an affair, because what would the girls say if they found I had stood by and allowed his indiscretions?
Still, there was annoyance and anger that Carlos was at fault and yet I had to suffer. Me and the girls had our lives turned upside-down because he wanted someone other than me.
There were days I wished I had never found out.
Not now; now it’s clear the end of our marriage was the best thing for us.
But back then I didn’t feel anything like the kick-in-the-stomach-while-having-menstrual-cramps pain that I felt when Dexter smiled at Hanna.
And that tells me a lot about how I feel about him.
I can’t pull my gaze away as I head to my usual seat and I’m glad I don’t because Dexter notices me.
And his smile is so wide that his face lights up like a sunrise.
Almost immediately he dims the smile, but I saw it. It was there, and it makes me feel a little better. I drop my gaze and try to hide a smile as I take my seat in the second row, pulling out my laptop.
It makes me feel even better when Dexter waves Hanna to take a seat, but I watch her watch him and plan how to stop her interest.
Because it is obvious that Dexter is an attractive man and Hanna is interested.
What would she do if I ran up to Dexter and threw my arms around him? What if I kissed him right there in front of everyone?
What if I took the seat behind Hanna and whispered in her ear that Dexter made me come with his mouth and that he is the best fuck I’ve ever had?
I keep thinking of things to say to Hanna that would make her stay away from Dexter—not that telling her he was the best fuck ever would ensure she would stay away. That might make a woman want to get closer.
I don’t want Hanna to get closer. I’m the one who is going to be closer to Dexter. I wish I could have given him a hug hello. It seems so strange that he kissed me goodbye only a few hours ago, and now I have to pretend that I barely know him. I don’t like that we were so intimate last night—and this morning—and now we’re back to being strangers.
And then it hits me: I’m sleeping with my professor. I will always have to pretend Dexter is a stranger. I’m going to have to deal with not being able to hug or hold his hand, or even look at him during this school year, because anyone who sees me look at Dexter will know right away that there is something going on between us.
And no one can know, or Dexter might get fired.
But a man who has that much to risk isn’t going to be the type of man to lead me on, so while I’m going to have to be careful, at least I can be sure I can trust him.