Jealousy (22 page)

Chapter Forty-Six:

The impending dissolution of her marriage took its toll on Heather.  She sat a
lone in the middle of Justin’s overstuffed couch full of self-pity and remorse.  Her life was a series of bad decisions.  She wished she never married Peter.  Then maybe she would have found someone who could love her and accept her relationship with Justin.  Now it was too late.  She couldn’t go down that road again.  Maybe it was her destiny to spend the rest of her life alone.

Justin sat down next to her.
“Why do you look so sad?”

“
I can’t believe I’m getting divorced.”  She frowned and fiddled with her hands in her lap.  “I’m too old to start my life over.”

“
What are you talking about, sweetie?”

Tears fell from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks.  She wiped them away and winced at the pain in her traumatized eye. 
“I can’t do this anymore.  No one is ever gonna love me.  If it wasn’t for you and Kenny, I wouldn’t have anyone.  You two are gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your lives.”  She sobbed into her hands.  “I’m sorry I’m such a burden.”

Kenny joined them on the couch and stroked her arm.
“Don’t be silly, honey.  We love you.  You’d never be a burden to us.”

“
Stop talking like that,” Justin said.  “You’re wonderful.  I told you a million times that bastard didn’t deserve you.  You’re gonna find someone, sweetie.  When you least expect it, someone is going to walk into your life, someone who loves and appreciates you, and they’re gonna change your life.”

Chapter Forty-Seven:

Heather swiveled on the b
ar stool and surveyed the young looking faces that surrounded her.  They seemed to be in their mid-twenties, but fortunately, she blended in with the crowd, even though she felt slightly out of place.

She
hated going out alone, but she refused to spend another Saturday night with Justin and Kenny.  Even though she moved into her own apartment, they were over constantly, and she didn’t want them to feel like they needed to baby-sit her every weekend.  She needed to move on with her life.

Heather was a sexual person, and her body craved a man
’s touch.  She watched the bartender serving customers at the other end of the bar.  She couldn’t decide if she was more interested in him or the group of fair-haired men he was pouring drinks for.  One of the men saw her looking their way and smiled at her.

The bartender returned and presented her with a Martini, courtesy of the smiling gentleman across the bar.  Before she ha
d a chance to hold her glass up in thanks, he was on his way over to introduce himself.  As she shook his hand, his eyes dropped and remained at her cleavage.  It was exactly the reaction she was looking for when she selected the low-cut top.  Tonight was about sex, pure and simple.

After
thirty minutes of suggestive body language, he invited her back to his apartment.  It was a long time since she was alone in a strange man’s apartment, and it made her nervous.  She made sure she didn’t drink too much, so she would be coherent and rational.  He didn’t seem like a psychopath, but visions of him yielding a butcher knife or unleashing a closet full of perverts kept haunting her.

A
s soon as she was in his bed, the visions vanished and were replaced by lust and passion.  His hands on her flesh made her sigh.  It had been too long since she felt a man’s strong hands on her body.

Her passion was held prisoner, and it was finally freed.  She was the aggressor.  She put the condom on him.
She sat on his face, and then she put him in her mouth.  He showed surprise at her eagerness, but she knew he enjoyed it.

“I have some toys, if you want to play,” he whispered.

She took him out of her mouth and looked up at him, with a raised eyebrow and a crooked smile.  “Whaddaya got?”

He leaned over and pulled a box out from under the bed.  She peered into it.  It was a sex shop in a box – masks, blindfolds, gags, dildos, handcuffs.  It was too much to take in with her eyes, so she lifted the box onto the bed and sifted through it.  She held up a pair of furry handcuffs and a small leather whip, and smiled at him.

“Good choice,” he said, “but let me show you what I like.”  He dug through the box and pulled out a strap-on dildo.  “This is my favorite.”

It took her a second to realize that he wanted her to use it on him.  She laughed.  Why did she always pick the kinky ones?
  She handcuffed him, faced down, to the bed. She hit him lightly on the backside with the small handheld whip. She let the strands of leather dance down his legs and up his inner thighs. Then she smacked him, hard, across the butt.

He didn’t flinch.  “I’ve been bad,” he said, “so, so bad.”

“I know you have.”

“Punish me.  Punish me, so I won’t do it again.”

She used the whip to emphasize each word and smacked him hard. “How – many – times – have –  I . . .”  She stopped with the whip held in the air.  There were big red welts on his butt.  She was about to apologize, but he got up on his knees and presented his butt in the air.

“Teach me a lesson.  Give it to me hard.  Do it.  Do it!”

She strapped on the dildo and slathered it with lube.  She stopped and stared down at it with disbelief.  Was she really about to do this?  She imagined telling Justin about it in the morning, and she silently laughed.  She did a lot of kinky things in the bedroom before, especially when she was younger.  She let a girl go down on her once.  She had a threesome with two bisexual guys.  She enjoyed giving a rim job or inserting a finger or two, but a strap on?  This was virgin territory for her.  It was oddly erotic, and she welcomed the freedom of sexual experimentation, especially after being oppressed for so many years with Peter.

She had no idea what she was doing.  She tried to be gentle
, as she guided the dildo inside of him, but he pushed back into it and yelled at her to hurry up.  She finally just rammed it into him.  It was the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to Peter and his boring missionary position.  This, albeit extreme, was what sex was supposed to be like – wild and untamed, a total surrender to physical pleasure.  As she fucked this guy in the ass with a strap-on, she thought about all the bullshit Peter put her through – the nasty attitude, the drinking, the abuse.  He fucking hit her – twice!  That son of a bitch.

With each bad memory, she thrust her hips harder into the poor guy underneath her.  He was flapping and writhing on the bed, and she suddenly stopped.  She was afraid she was hurting him, but he grunted and sighed with pleasure.  She decided to play along with his little fantasy.  After all, she was the dominatrix.  She was supposed to punish him.  She was supposed to teach him a lesson
– punish him for trying to control her, for not giving her the love she deserved, for taking her for granted, for never putting her first before that God damn electronics store.  That prick didn’t deserve her.

She grabbed him by the back of his hair
and yanked his head off of the pillow.  “Have you learned your lesson yet, you son of a bicth?”  She whacked him on the legs with the whip.  “Are you gonna disrespect me again? Are you gonna stop talking shit about my best friend?  Are you gonna drop the mother fucking attitude and treat me right for once in your miserbale life?”

“Yes.  Yes.  I won’t be bad anymore.  I promise.”

“Good.”  She let go of his hair and sat back on her knees.  The dildo slipped out.  His anus was huge and pink.  She uncuffed him from the headboard, and he turned over.  He had the largest erection she ever saw.  She lowered her voice to a sexy whisper. “Now that you learned your lesson, you’re going to be rewarded.”

“C’mere, you crazy, beautiful bitch,” he said.  “Get on top and ride me.”

She straddled him and took his erection in her hand.  It was thick and hot.  She was wet and ready, and she felt her moistness transfer onto his legs.  She lifted herself up and guided him inside her.  He was big, and she moaned as he filled her.  She rocked back and forth, grinding her pelvis into him.

She felt liberated.  Empowered. 
Free from the sexual restraints her marriage forced upon her.  With each thrust of her hips, with each wave of pleasure that reverberated through her body, she let go of the hostility, the bitterness, the hatred, the guilt, the self-loathing and the self-pity, every self-destrucive emotion that dimmed her spirit.  A Pandora’s Box of evils left her body. There was no need for goodbyes.  She saluted their departure. They were unwelcome.  It was a baptism, and now her soul was cleansed.

#

A series of one-night stands was exactly what Heather needed in order to rebuild her self-esteem.  She forgot how much she enjoyed the dating scene and delved in without inhibition – not that she had much inhibition in the first place. She was always a bit on the wild side when it came to sex, but now that she was older she didn’t feel the same constraints, the same double standards that society put on women who enjoyed casual sex.

Justin teased her about her indiscriminate behavior.  She wasn
’t nearly as promiscuous as he was after he broke up with David, but he teased her nonetheless.

Deep down, she wanted to meet someone and fall in love, even though she wouldn
’t allow herself to admit it.  She couldn’t let her guard down and open herself up to getting hurt again.  She needed to protect her heart.  Her failed marriage to Peter hurt her more than she thought possible and she could never survive that kind of pain again.  She was happy with the occasional one-nighter.  Besides, if and when she was ready to start a relationship again, she knew exactly who she wanted it to be with.

Chapter Forty-Eight:

Heather wandered aimlessly around her empty apartment.  She was lonely
, and over the last few weeks her thoughts returned to her past more and more.  She took a seat at the desk, wrapped her fingers around the handle of the center drawer, and held her breath.  She opened the drawer and stared at its contents for several seconds.  She reached deep into the back of the drawer and dug out a greeting card in a pale yellow envelope.  She hesitated before she opened it, and questioned why she felt the need to hide it.  Because she didn’t want Justin to find it, that’s why.

The card was from Dominick, and it contained his phone number.  He left it on the windshield of her car when his tour of duty ended.  She knew that as soon as she opened the card, she would call him.  She released the card from the envelope that held it prisoner.  She opened it and gently ran her fingers over Dominick
’s handwriting.  She closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to relive the memories of their short time together.  It made her realize how much she missed him.  Somehow she always knew she would see him again.

The sound of his voice on the other end of the phone drove a shot of adrenaline through her heart. 
“Hello, Dom.  It’s Heather.  Heather Cooper – Drakos.  It’s Heather Drakos, now.”

“
Oh my God,” he said.  “I can’t believe you finally called.  I never thought I’d see you again.  I’ve missed you so much, Heather.”

Her heart fluttered again. 
“I missed you, too.  I wouldn’t let myself think about you.  I wanted to, but I couldn’t trust myself, until now.  I left Peter.  We’re divorced.”

“
Can I see you?” he quickly asked.  “Can I come over, or do you want to come here, to my house?”

Heather smiled and nodded, even though she knew Dominick couldn
’t see her.  “I’ll be right there.”

Chapter Forty-Nine:

It turned out that
Dominick lived only two towns away.  On the thirty minute drive to his home, Heather started to feel apprehensive about seeing him again.  She had slept with a fair amount of men since she left Peter, but Dominick was different.  They had an intimate affair and she wondered if they could recapture the passion they once shared.  She turned the corner to his street and strained to read the house numbers.  Her stomach fluttered as she got closer - 308 . . . 310 . . . 312.  There it was - 314.  She let out a small excited giggle, and jumped out of the car.

She noted
the meticulously manicured lawn as she darted up the walkway of Dominick’s small cape cod style home.  She was about to ring the bell when Dominick swung the door open.  She allowed herself the pleasure of absorbing his appearance before she said anything.  He looked older, with tiny lines now visible in the corners of his eyes, but still handsome and fit.  The short military haircut he once sported was grown out lush and dark.  She sighed his name.

Dominick pulled her into his embrace and planted a deep wet kiss on her mouth.  As soon as their lips met, passion exploded inside her.
  She had waited forever to kiss him again, to touch his skin, to inhale his scent.  “Oh, Dom,” she said in a breathy voice.  “I want you so bad.”  He took her by the hand and brought her upstairs.  He picked her up and threw her on the bed.

She laughed
like school girl.

He jumped on top of her and sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck. 
“I missed you,” he said, with a smile.

She touched his cheek. 
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”