“You don’t know anything about me.”
After it was over, after he’d cleaned up, Cal stood in his boxers, his palms on the counter, looking in the mirror in the bathroom — the fucking thing couldn’t be avoided. Somehow, he managed to conceal his shame as Reegan donned the robe she’d grabbed from the closet.
“I want to see you again.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and splayed a palm over his stomach, her eyes chock-full of uncertainty.
“Why?” He removed her hand. “You don’t know anything about me. You still don’t know my full name.”
“Your name is Calvin Prescott. Bill works with my husband from time to time. He told me who you are, but I don’t need to know you. I don’t need to know anything else about you.”
Their eyes met. Pain sat in the center of Cal’s throat, stinging him.
“This can be discreet.”
“This ... what? This affair? No affairs are discreet.” He started to dress.
“It doesn’t have to be here.”
“No. It will not be here ... ever,” he replied, his tongue so heavy he could barely lift it. Will not? Had he made a decision?
“Where do you live?”
“Close.”
“Where?”
“It doesn’t matter because it won’t be there either.” He shifted his gaze.
“Why? Are you married?” She glanced at his ring finger.
Cal went toward the bed and slipped on a shoe. Reegan followed.
“That’s none of my business. We can meet and…” She hesitated, looking lost again, asking for something she seemed to regret and want. He needed it too. Or he needed to keep doing it in order to forget what it was they were both about to agree to.
“Fuck. We will meet and fuck.” He knotted the shoestrings. “You can say the word. You said it plenty before...” Cal glanced at the ruffled sheets. “In the bed.”
Reegan blushed. “I’ll find a place. Somewhere... Somewhere discreet.”
Cal wanted to fuck her again, so she would stop saying that stupid fucking word.
Tightening the belt at her waist like a bad habit she couldn’t break, Reegan stood between his legs, the lapels of her robe hanging open, exposing her perfect nipples and tiny breasts.
“You’re nervous.” He peered up at her, grabbed her hips, and pulled her closer. “You didn’t strike me as one of those women.”
“You don’t know anything about me.” Her fingernails combed through his hair.
Cal tried to smile.
Sitting on the edge of another man’s bed, courting insanity, his cheek pressed against a wife’s chest, making the final decision in his heart to see her again.
A choice he knew he would forever regret.