Aftermath (4 page)

I moved the strip of fabric aside and pressed down on my swollen lips, stroking them, and feeling how wet I was. I pushed my lips apart and slid a finger in. The moan escaped me before I could stop, and
I curved the finger, trying to find my spot. I pulled out and back in, trying again.
My agony increased. This won't work, I thought, and I looked at Brad briefly to see the thin smile on his lips
.
I
t's time to get serious.

I lay on my back and slid my thong off. One hand moved down to my clit, teasing it, twirling and pressing against it. The other hand was between my lips, stroking and pressing me into bliss. Finally I slid two fingers inside and moaned as I filled myself and stretched myself out. I began to press in, sliding in and out, and realized I had started moaning again.

The fingers on my clit and the fingers inside me combined to take me higher and higher. I felt Brad get up and move between my legs. His hands were suddenly on my ass, parting my cheeks as I stroked myself into ecstasy. I felt his finger at my tight rear exit and in between my moans I protested weakly. "No, please don’t…" But I wasn't thinking straight and the sensations were taking over. I felt Brad sliding his finger inside me,
making my walls tighten
around my own fingers. I felt so tight, as if I'd never had anything so wide inside me, and I continued thrusting and moaning as I felt the pressure rise.

T
he orgasm finally arrived
and
I felt the release come over me and flood out
, m
y senses blurring as the waves cr
ashed over and left me in a daze
.
Finally
it was all over,
and
I felt calm,
like everything
was
all
right with the world. Brad was lying on one arm
,
looking at me and smiling, and I
knew
this wasn't over. Reaching down with one hand, I realized he was growing stiffer again.

We kissed gently, and I fondled his erection with one hand, encouraging it to grow bigger and harder. I stroked my palm over it, one hand after the other, and felt
it
rise and get angry. Brad pushed me back, and began to kiss me softly all over. He started below my ear and moved down, along my neck, across my shoulder blades, and then down, reaching my breast and circling it with his kisses, before he sucked on the nipple gently and moved onto the other breast. I felt his hand pressing against my entrance, making me moist. I ached for him and wanted more, and I knew we wouldn't be waiting long.

I felt him kiss his way up to my neck again, and then his hands pushed my thighs wide apart. I moaned in despair, feeling my pussy spreading wide open and clenching
and unclenching
in desire.

He positioned himself against me, and when I felt his cock resting against my entrance, I knew we were both far too impatient to wait. Brad looked at my face and recognized my silent desperation, and he moved back and
then
slowly inched inside me. I moaned out as I felt him spreading me and sliding inside, making me tight and wanting more.

He pulled out again, and started thrusting more intently, moving deeper with each thrust. His pace increase, and I ground my hips to pull him in faster, begging him for more. He obliged, and I felt his shaft hit against my spot inside, making me shudder and gasp.

Our movements grew faster and Brad kept plunging in and out of me, harder and faster each time, and I felt myself stiffen and call out as I felt the excitement build up. I knew the orgasm wasn't far off, and I moved my fingers down to
rub
my clit, to get
m
e
there faster. I felt myself stiffen and forget where I was or what I was doing. Everything glazed over and fogged up, and I felt the pressure move through my body and escape me as I called out and
convulsed as it all flowed out.

I lay quietly for a few seconds, completely
spent
as Brad continued to pound into me. His thrusting grew erratic and I saw him close his eyes and stiffen, and I felt him release his come inside me, growing limp and then slowly moving out.

We lay side by side, exhausted, and I wished the moment would continue forever. But I knew it wouldn't - I just hoped that Brad would remember this and think that nothing else could compare. I kn
o
w that's how I felt.

There was no reason to hate Naomi, and yet I did.

She was beautiful, intelligent and nice to me. I tried my best to respond in kind, but too often I felt her presence when Brad and I should be alone. They made no
secret about
the
fact that they were good friends, and the three of us would hang out often, watching a movie or
TV
series. I wanted Brad to drape his arm around me or hold me close, but with another woman there, I felt the electric charge between us had reduced a bit
, or had some kind of strange undercurrent
.
Occasionally I felt Brad's eyes on me, and when I glanced at him I couldn't read his face.

Three weeks passed by, and
I was sure Brad wasn't sleeping with her
…
We fell asleep together
every night, and I couldn't make out anything sexual in the way
he and Naomi
bantered. I was convinced they were platonic friends - maybe there was once something between them, but there certainly wasn't anything now.
Or was there?

The thought that he was cheating on me never left my mind, as I convinced myself
first
one way, and then the other.

Predictably, our sex life fizzled a bit. There were times when everything was as great as always, and times when I wondered if
the frequency had gone down a bit because
he
was with someone else
.
When
ever
I had that thought, I'd shake my head and
think
, "Nah, it's just stress." But I wasn't entirely convinced.

I wanted to be alone with Brad - why had he brought this woman into our house?

"We should get away together, go somewhere one last time," I suggested.

I thought I saw something flicker in Brad's eyes. F
or an instant I thought he felt the same loss I was feeling, the sadness that our year together was ending. Or was I just hoping to see what I wanted?

A
t least Brad agreed we should go somewhere
together
, and a few days later he said, "I've booked a trip to
Paris
for us!"

I was excited - we'd be reliving our time in
Paris
, those magical moments that had convinced me I should agree to Brad's proposal.

However,
my excitement was short-lived. I woke early one morning, and realized Brad's side of the bed was empty.

With a feeling of dread in my stomach, I climbed up the stairs softly. I already knew what I'd see. When I was almost at Naomi's door, I could see that it was slightly ajar. The sounds of low conversation and laughter reached my ears. I wanted to throw up.

I couldn't go any further, I didn't want to open the door. I simply stood frozen
in shock
.

I finally made my way back to bed and lay there
silently
, pretending to be asleep when Brad finally came back and w
ent
to the walk-in closet where he changed into his suit.

I lay in bed for half the day
, crying like a baby
and feeling incredibly sick
. When I finally made my way down for breakfast, Eva took one look at me and asked me
what was wrong.

I didn't pretend
that things were
ok. "Brad's sleeping with Naomi," I said softly.

"Nonsense!"

Eva wouldn't hear of it, and her stoic determination made me feel a bit better. Still, I pretended to be sick for the next few days just to avoid having to face Brad and Naomi.

Finally, it was time to leave for
Paris
. As soon as we were in the limo and heading towards Brad's private jet, I thought I'd confront him about Naomi. But when I looked at him, I could only think that our year together would be over in a few weeks. If Brad didn't feel the same way I did, why not just end things on a dignified note? There was no point in making a fool of myself - I might as well just try to enjoy
Paris
.

W
e stayed in the Presidential Suite at the Hyatt
again
, and
Paris
was beautiful and romantic. But I felt dead inside, and
I thought nothing could hold
any charms for me.
When we entered the suite, I decided that although it had
once seemed glamorous and extravagant
, it
now looked like a tacky, over-decorated prison.

Thankfully, Brad sensed my mood and didn't insist on trying to be romantic or wanting to relive our first steamy times in the suite.
Once we'd changed and had a bit to eat, w
e wandered the streets of
Paris
like a normal couple
.

We walked through the narrow streets, and along the banks of the
Seine
. A few hours
there was
all it took for the magic of
Paris
to infuse my senses, and once again I admired the romantic, old-world atmosphere and the beauty of the city.

"I don't want any fancy meals this time," I told Brad, and he smiled and nodded.

We had lunch at a tiny café
and then visited the Notre Dame to admire
its
gorgeous architecture and stained glass windows. W
e browsed through some shops,
though I wasn't in the mood to buy anything, and at night we admired the Eiffel tower lit up like a large, sparkling candle.

The next day we headed to the Musee d'Orsay, and I admired the collection of Impressionist art that I hadn't gotten a chance to see on the first visit.
Specks of paint created gorgeous illusions, and while I admired the paintings, I recalled the feelings of confusion I'd had at the Louvre almost a year ago, when I
'd
needed to decide whether or not to go ahead with this "marriage".
We strolled hand in hand through the gallery, and I found myself wondering if I'd come back here again, and if so, who I'd be with.

After the museum closed, we stopped briefly at the hotel to change and then went down to the river. Brad had booked us
a romantic dinner cruise along the
Seine
, and I loved every moment of it. The dinner was simple and elegant, and the river was gorgeous and shimmered with the night lights, the city lit up on either side of us.

We were meant to leave just before lunch on the third day, and we hadn't decided what to do with the few extra hours.

"Let's buy something," suggested Brad
in the morning
, "Something to remember this time by."

"That's ok," I said, "We don't have to remember this time. I know you want it to be over, and you'll soon be happy and free, you can do whatever you want and whoever you want. Why bother remembering now?"

Brad looked puzzled, seemed about to say something, and then stopped himself.

"Are you looking forward to the year being over?" he finally asked
, placing his hand over mine
, his blue eyes piercing mine
.

I felt sparks travel up my arm, but
I
looked away,
shrugged and refused to answer directly.

I knew he would be happy to have me out of his life, and even though I hadn't managed to win his heart, I'd have a nifty million dollars of my own to console myself with. "I'll buy my happiness," I thought, "Money can buy just about anything."

Instead of shopping, we spent the morning wandering through the
Tuileries
Gardens
, making polite conversation and indulging in some people-watching.
When we were finally on the plane heading back home, we both were
dissatisfied
. I could read it in Brad's face, and I regretted not enjoying myself properly.

I shouldn't care about who Brad was sleeping with.
The year
was almost over, this had been a smart career move, and I'd
be on my way pretty soon.

Friday night, I went out with a bunch of friends from college. I wouldn't be coming back in fall - I'd gotten into
NYU and I'd be going there. But
we all wanted to stay
in touch, and we proceeded to laugh and talk raucously through dinner. I had a few drinks, but I decided not
to
follow the kids who went clubbing afterwards
- I'd been too old for the club scene for a while now.