Chapter 10 – Chapter 10

Part Ten

My second marriage was brief. I met Alexis at a fundraiser for a senate candidate in 2006. She was dark and sultry and mysterious. Her husband had been wealthy beyond words and a Republican bundler. When he died, she inherited his wealth and his political obligations.

I was the last person left at her house. I was the treasurer for the candidate's campaign, so I stayed behind to collect the checks and the pledges. Alexis came downstairs in a silk robe and suggested we end the night with a scotch on the veranda. We ended it in her bed instead. She rode me ruthlessly, with a passion and a vigor that belied her 51 years.

I got caught up in the whirlwind of money and sex. Both seemed endlessly available. We flew to exotic places on her private plane. We had sex as we flew.

I asked her to marry me after only eight weeks. She said yes, and we flew the next weekend to Bora Bora and married each other on a beach.

I quickly regretted my impetuousness. Alexis was used to getting her way. She bossed me like a child. She did not want to hear about, much less see, my child.

She tried to force me to quit working, so I would be available to her whenever she wanted. When I refused, she contacted one of the named partners of my firm and urged him to furlough me.

I insisted she back off. When she refused, I moved out. She reacted by divorcing me.

Our marriage was over, only 8 weeks after it started, and only 16 weeks after I had met her for the first time. The ending was merciful to us both.

*****

Two years later, Mace emailed he would be in Denver for work. We met at the Brown Palace, where he was staying.

He almost immediately asked about the absence of my wedding ring. I said only "That is over." I did not tell him how long it had been over, or that I had been married again since.

"What happened?"

"It does not matter," I said, dismissively and with a tone that suggested he should not raise the issue again.

He was returning to Denver two weeks later for three days of meetings. We made plans to meet for dinner on his last night in town. We laughed and reminisced as we planned.

Mace was aging well. "You look like Keith Urban in your old age," I said.

"Thank you. That's high praise. He's gorgeous."

"You are, too."

"You look like the guy from Office Space, only with blue eyes."

"Ron Livingston. I have gotten that before. He is not gorgeous."

"He is to me. You are, too. Still."

I covered his hand with mine. I noticed that he did not pull it away.

When dinner was over, I offered to drive him back to his hotel. On the way, I asked if he wanted to see my new home, a bungalow on Washington Park. If he said yes, I would force him to stay the night.

He said yes. We drank and talked. When it was time for Mace to leave, I refused to drive him. I told him I was too drunk to drive and that he could call a cab or stay the night. I was scheming, and I think he knew it.

Mace insisted on the second bedroom. I tossed and turned briefly and then decided to quit playing games. Naked, I walked to his bedroom, knocked, and invited myself in.

I was direct. I sat facing him on the bed, my hard on obvious. "Let us not pretend this is going to happen," I said, lowering my mouth to his.

"I have missed you," I whispered in his mouth. "I was sitting across that table from you and watching your eyes dance and all I could think about was kissing your lips."

We traveled back in time. We kissed and kissed and kissed until he raised up and pulled his boxers off.

"I want to make love to you," I whispered. Mace did not respond verbally. He pulled me down on top of him and raised his legs. I reached into the nightstand, pulled out a condom and lube, and was quickly inside of him. Mace stared into my eyes as I delivered myself to him, over and over. Fifteen years washed away.

"You feel so good," I said.

"So do you."

"I have missed this."

"Me, too."

I kept going. I had been having an enormous amount of sex in my single life, and my control had gotten unreal. I could be relentless, if I wanted to be.

I did not want to be. I wanted to come inside Mace, like I had so many times so many years ago. I arched my back and started slamming into him. I grunted and came, again and again, filling the condom. I collapsed, covering Mace with my sweaty body.

"That was a monstrous orgasm," I said.

"I know. I could tell."

"Did you come?"

"No."

"I want you to come in my mouth," I said, tracing a path to his dick with my tongue and betraying my dislike of cum. I worked him with my hand and my mouth.

He came hard, over and over. I swallowed as I kept at him, draining and swallowing all but the last drop. I gave that back to him, off my tongue after I had returned to his mouth and started kissing him again. We fell asleep.

The next morning, I asked if I could ride him. He answered "of course."

I went back down on him to get him ready. I was coating him with my saliva.

"Don't we need a condom?" he asked.

"No. I trust you."

"We need a condom," he answered. He clearly did not trust me.

I reached into the nightstand and pulled out a magnum. I rolled it on him, straddled him, and then slid slowly down as far as I could. Riding Mace was like riding a bicycle.

I rode Mace as hard as I could. He rolled me off and onto my back without pulling out. He stood next to the bed, held my legs flat against my chest, and fucked me as hard and as fast as I had ever been fucked.

"Do not come inside me," I said. "I want you to come in my mouth again." Mace knew I did not like cum. I was trying to express how much I wanted him by taking what I did not like from him.

Mace pulled out and pulled the condom off. I scrambled to the head of the bed. Mace straddled me and fucked my face. He came so hard and so much that I gagged, cum running down my chin.

Mace licked my chin, kissed me, and took me in his hand. As he sucked my tongue, I came.

Mace moved his flight back and we spent the day in bed. It was just like old times.

I drove Mace to the airport. I wondered if he would come back.

Before he exited the car, I asked "Do you ever wonder how our lives would have turned out if we had just kept going?"

"No," he said, matter of factly. "I'm living that life, just not with you."

"Touche, Carrot," I said, as my heart shattered and scattered. "Touche."