divorce, Emy, feelings, his wife, love

When The Wish Comes True

We get punished by the fulfillment of our wishes.
It was about 11 pm when Greg stopped by. I gave him a hug feeling his fatigue through the ugly scrubs, hospital smells, and dispassionate demeanor.  

 

          Emy left, it is over now.  

 

          She will be back.

 

          We are divorcing Vixen.

 

          Get some rest

 

I heard him walking into the bathroom and turning on the shower.

 

I imagined him leaving Emy so many times, that it got old. First, I dreamed that he would be on his own, and we would spend more than 2 nights a week, then I was hopeful that he lived with her just for their kids, and they would divorce once the boys get older. Then I got jealous and helpless watching him go after our lunch quickies. It took me over 3 years to accept that he loves her, and they will always be together. I learned to be happy for him. And now he is telling me his marriage is over, and instead of going home, he is using my shower. He was violating my boundaries; it was annoying.  

 

They were married for 15 years; 7 years of which Greg and I were together. Emy cleaned, cooked, raised the boys, and diligently took sleeping pills after family sex. “Benzos help her fall asleep, Vixen, she gets so anxious with the kids, and the bills”, – I kept nodding faking interest and compassion.  
Having Greg in my life once or twice a week was magical. When he disappeared for a month or two, I felt down. Every time he came back, we fucked our brains out, which added emotional fireworks to our lives. I quietly smiled at his “you are saving my marriage, Vixen”. Somehow, he got from me what he was unable to get from Emy; and Emy kept giving him something I was unable to give. His work stressed him out all the time, Emy and I gave him a relief; our triangle seemed to work fine, just fine.

 

I heard his “Where is shampoo, luv” and went into the bathroom. Our shower sex was terribly uncomfortable, I was gripping the walls trying to maintain my balance in the slippery shampoo and soap.   

 

I needed intimacy and privacy; Greg gave me both. He loved me with his hard cock: quietly and aggressively. It was perfect: no words and no drama.

 

I had trouble falling asleep that night. “It has always been Emy’s job to cope with his shitty attitudes, mood swings, and endless hookups during night shifts. I have fun, she has the rest.  If she lives, I may end up doing the routine bullshit…” – the thought was even more awkward than our sex in the shower.
 
Greg texted me the next morning “no divorce, she is back, last night was amazing”. The wish to be with him 24/7 did not come true. I felt relieved and ready to make breakfast.  
Emy, feelings, his wife, love, sex

Sex with My Greg


The ding of a text message withdrew me from the boredom of factor analysis. I put aside the textbook, reached out for my iPhone, and glanced at the screen. “I am horny, come over now”. Greg’s straightforwardness was bluntly concise.  
 
He was watching me from the porch as I was parking. I got out of the vehicle, our eyes met. I felt helplessly fragile, weak, and small under his heavy look. A bunny and a python. My heart was pounding as he dispassionately waved me inside. I quietly followed him. The house was cold and quiet as usual. I never felt the presence of Emy or their kids here; dresses in the closet room and the Monopoly board game on the coffee table did not seem to be suggestive of anything.   
        
    Where is your wife?
   In Atlanta with the boys
  Why aren’t you guys together for the Valentines’ day?
  They are in Atlanta
 
I kept giggling as he was dragging me upstairs. I was a carton puppet, very light, and extremely unimportant. Every time he f*cked me, I felt like melting, dissolving, and entirely disappearing. My Greg, cold reptilian eyes, uneven teeth, and a slight smell of rotten meat from his mouth. I felt his stubble rubbing my skin like sandpaper. He was cold and inattentive; his cock was firm and hot; that cold and hot contrast felt like a crazy roller-coaster ride I was addicted to. He pushed my legs up over his shoulders to get a deeper penetration. He was too big for me, intimacy with him was painful and sweaty. I kept trying to refocus from the pain to watching the bedroom. Surreal pictures and huge fish tanks added to the coldness of the interior. His cock was the only warm thing about this house. I could feel him through his cock, and the feeling was fantastic. I knew as soon as he pulls out, we will entirely disconnect, and I will be smacked by the ruthlessness of his introversion. Sex with him was the only link between us, it balanced out his reasoning and my psychosis.      
        
       Pull out before you come
      No
      Please
      No – He roared ejaculating inside. I looked around searching for the AC remote. I wanted to raise the room temperature; the bedroom felt freezing, his semen would not keep me warm for a long time.
          
        Please get on the pill
      No
      You are your worst enemy, Vixen
      If you knock me up, I will at least qualify for some state help with housing
      Stop it, I give you money all the time
      Whatever, – I wanted to get out of his house, it was too big, too artificial, too clean.
      You should stay, I want you here all night 
    
      I shook my heard. The factor analysis was waiting. I wanted to leave my presence in his bed and in his heart, but I knew he will take care of the mess, and everything will be surgically clean again as soon as I am gone.  
crazy, Emy, feelings, his wife, Rick

Rick’s Looney Fantasies


His name was Rick, and he was mentally sick. After meeting him, I temporary lost faith in human beings in general and in guys in particular.
 
Greg’s Emy introduced me to him during one of those pretentious fishing tournaments where quality, style, and luxury come first, and fishing is just secondary.
Middle-aged, tall, athletic, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. He responded to my polite “what-do-you-do-for-living” that he holds a medical license, and his field of expertise involves mental retardation psychiatry.
 
          Honey, I also teach economic psychology, and a couple of courses in pharmacology. Tell me about yourself, – there was something demonic about his speech and manners, something scary and at the same time enticing
 
I briefly introduced myself blushing at his “wow-you-are-tiny”.  
         I bet you have some daddy issues, a naughty little girl and some well-deserved spanking.  
 
I startled at his gaze. The weird sensation, anger mixed with curiosity made me stay and continue our conversation.
 –          Would you like being my little baby?
          I am in my thirties, not that little
          You are tiny enough to be my little princess
 
I shifted my eyes to Emy and Greg, they were taking pictures of the freshly caught grouper, and asked myself what would be more repulsive to kill and fillet innocent fish or realize the taboo fantasies of this weirdo.
 –          What excites you about it?
          The idea that I can knock you up, Vixen,  – the tone of his voice was careless as if we were discussing vanilla ice-cream
          We just met, – I was more amazed than angry, I seem to be the magnet for weird guys
          It does not matter. I can feel you, you are perfect for it.
          Why would you want to make me preggers?
          I would be in charge, in power. You would be subservient, but I will treat like a princess. Think about it, I would flood you with my baby batter. It turns me on a lot when I image that your eggs would be cum soaked.
 
I literary could not believe my ears. He was one of Greg’s best friends, a descent looking guy with a good career and a nice reputation.  
 –          Do you have kids? – I was trying to make our conversation more societally acceptable. Jazz playing, sports fishing boats, and smell of grilled grouper did not match his heavy fantasies.
          I do, and I would like to knock you up, I did it with all my other women
          What happened to them after they got pregnant? – I could not believe talking about this kinky crap with a total stranger.    
          They have my kids. I have always wanted more kids. I would like to get you pregnant.
 
Our eyes met, I felt dizzy
 –          You know, you cannot make prognoses about it, it may not be a girl
          You can abort very early if it is not a girl, sex reassignment surgery can be an option too.
 
That crazy physician literary immersed me in the dark Kafkian reality of the gloomy existentialism. I was about to run into the restroom and puke when I felt Greg’s hands on my shoulders and melted at his calming “Are-you-guys-having-fun”.  
          We are, she is very sweet, – Rick’s responses sounded intelligently dull and politely uninterested.
          I know, Emy and I love her. She just needs some direction and support.
 
I hurriedly apologized and left; the air redolent of dead fish and Rick’s insanity made me nauseous.
 Greg followed me to my vehicle, he had the same dull face and ice-cold pit-bull look.
          You are being rude, Vixen. You can’t just leave. He took the time out of his busy schedule just to finally meet you.
          He is sick, Greg, how can you hook me up with such a sick guy. I have your son my household, and you want him to be around THIS weirdo? Really?  – I was ready to smack him. I hated him so much at that moment.
          Calm down, he is a nice guy, he works a lot, very established, you will live in a nice house, and we will still be able to meet and f*ck when he is not around.
          F*ck you, – I never thought I could be so angry, he was literary pushing my buttons, – Go back to Emy and enjoy your tournament.  
   
I was crying all the way home. I was mad, I did not want to see Greg any longer.
Emy, feelings, his wife, love, mind

Greg, Gas Station, Buddhism


I have no idea how this world works. Nor have I any understanding about people’s ways of thinking, and how they behave. I gave up creating illusions about others and myself long ago, since the more sand castles I build in my mind, the more painful it is when the dreams crash against the reality.
I gave up trying to predict other’s actions since it is a mere waste of time and health. Thinking too much about the future that is not here yet, basing my expectations on the past experiences always led me nowhere. So I gave up trying.
Stupid books on how to get the man of your dreams were thrown into my waste basket. I am way too grown up for manipulative games that, anyways, make no sense. Feeling free from the societal convictions about traditional relationships, monogamy, commitments to stay in marriage is what I finally acquired after years of personal mistakes and traumas.
Greg is the only attachment that I was struggling to let go. I kept holding on to the illusion that he should be back, but finally I allowed myself to relax and accept the reality the way it is.
I was at the gas station ready to vacuum-clean my vehicle, when Greg texted me:
“I want you. I have wanted you since the first time we met. I just can’t get you to stay interested.”
Hmm, here we go. Sounds like Emy is away, or she is withholding sex, and I would never blame her. Living with a creature like Greg must be a never-ending yo-yo, draining, depressing, frustrating.
His next text: When shall we see each other again? – My whole perception of the world went upside down within seconds. The gas station seemed to turn their heads at my loud laughter. Everything upturned: the sky, the clouds, the old public vacuum cleaner, the wet asphalt, and dirty tires of passing vehicles. Even muggy Florida air got refreshingly transparent. He is back, thank you Universe, thank you God, thank you, thank you, thank you
My previous detachment convictions collapsed, I am attached and addicted, and I do not care.
On my way home, I got a phone call from his assistant.
–           Dr. C. wants to know your availability this week.  
–           Tell him to go to hell
–           Excuse me? – she seemed to be shocked, and I could care less. Her employer is rude to a fault, why should his women be different.  – He is asking when you are available this week…
–           Tell him to leave me alone – I hung up on her, I was mean, but it is her choice to swallow disrespect with a smile for 15 bucks an hour.
His Audi was in my parking spot, he was waiting outside, quiet, introverted, toxic. I unlocked the front door and let him in.
–            I want to claim your pussy as mine   
–           My body belongs to me, my dear
–           You misunderstand me… – he had that pit-bull look, scary and mesmerizing – You mind, your body, your spirit, and even your pussy of course belong to you, but when it comes to your pussy and sex I want to be the only man there, the only man touching, kissing, licking, and fucking you, that’s what I mean claiming your pussy
–           I did not invite you, Greg
–           Deep down inside you feel me, Vixen…
My Buddhist non-attachment philosophy does not work around him, he is back again, and I am in love like a cat in heat.
Emy, feelings, his wife

Greg’s Wife. Breakfast meeting

The second time I ran into Greg’s wife was during the breakfast conference aimed at the trauma-informed care. She represented her company, I showed up since I was hungry and wanted to see my good friend who was supposed to educate on domestic violence after fruit and coffee.
Emy immediately recognized me and approached our table.

         I know you, you have a funny name. What was it a bunny or a squirrel?
          Neither.  I had no desire to respond to her sarcasm, it was too early, and I was not fully awake yet anyways
My one-word feedback and the serene eye-contact without smiling made her nervous.
          I was just trying to be funny, did not mean to offend you, what was your name again?    
 –          Vixen
          Now I remember. You play the piano and have a kid
Another long and meaningful eye-contact. Yes, my sweet overweight lady. I have a child, Greg’s, your sons’ brother, but you do not need to know, really, it will save you a visit to your psychoanalyst.
          Yes, Emy.
          And you remember my name, how nice of you. I do not see any piano here though
          There is one in the lobby but I am not playing today
          Why are you here than, are you a psychiatrist?
Well I act like one every time your hubby comes into my life throwing tantrums at 1 am. I help him cope with his work, family stress, and absence of sex life so he can come to you relieved and ready for a daily portion of drama. Actually, I am a family counselor who has been saving your marriage for a while.
           No, I am not
          What do you do for living? 

She was still standing at our table, and my friend was put off by the way she presented herself.

          Would you like to have a seat? You are standing, we are sitting – not good, – There was a slight surprise on her face, she obviously did not expect me to be nice to her.
          Thank you, Vixen. I really wanted to know more about you, people talk about you, they talk a lot, I was just curious …
She used good perfume and had a perfect manicure. Her wedding ring did not trigger any emotions, I literary felt nothing when I saw it: neither jealousy, nor sadness. She wears a ring, I am required to wear his presents, necklaces that he regularly brings me from business trips: same collar, same leash, 
 same slavery. He owns me, he is in my heart and between my legs. 
          Really? And what do people say? – I was curious. I do not interact, I am not a people-person, prefer horses. Animals make much more sense than most humans. 
          People say you always get invitations to the events that none of us have access to
          Really? Which ones?
          The recent VIP party in Cheretto… My company was unable to get membership there, we have been on the wait list for years. And people saw you there. I saw you on our front cover not that long ago and recognized the face. Just interested who you are, Vixen. Everyone, actually is. 

I laughed loudly and felt quiet and surprised glances towards our table. My friend gave me a disapproving look – after all, it was a trauma-related event for therapists, psychologists, and social workers.  It was the time to go, being around serious people who claim they help others but are  unable to stop eating junk food and take care of their skin and bodies is not something that I can tolerate for a long time.

Vibrating IPhone. A text from Greg: “Do u want to get fucked? I want you to be my little slut”.What an idiot. How can Emy live with a guy like this?

          It was a pleasure to see you both, but I gotta go. – I smiled to Emy and thanked my friend for the invitation. Anyways, breakfast pineapples were yummy.   
          We need to get together, Vixen. Would you like to meet for lunch?  – Emy hurriedly opened her handbag searching for her business card
          Sure, you gave me your number in Ritz, remember? I will give you a call, and we’ll meet in Cheretto if you like. They will let you in if you are with me, and you will buy me lunch, deal?
          You are so sweet, my dear, you are…  Mentioning Cheretto got Emy from zero to hundred, she was happy, she seemed to change her attitudes about me in seconds. And I was leaving, I was in a hurry, I wanted to see Greg, I was happy that he is still the part of my life.