I lie alone in my bed at night. It’s a quiet night for me. Nothing much to do, and so I spent most of my night watching old reruns of tv shows or listening to music and journaling. Waiting until you are past your curfew so that we can chat. There is just something so calming and comforting about chatting with you. I try to distract myself from the fact that I am lonely, and you are probably having a fun time with your kids. And dealing with your wife. It's heartbreaking. But worth it. I continue to drag the sharp edge of our love across my throat every single day because the way you make me feel is incredible.

Our time has come. You have been sent to your room and are free to chat me up. We start by going through the highlights of our nights since we last talked, only a few short hours ago. But it seems like an eternity. Pleasantries exchanged, we start talking life and plans. What’s the plan to see each other tomorrow? How long do we have to wait to see, touch or hear each other again?

Sometimes we dive into naughty talks. The things we want to do to each other. The fantasies we have. Our futures. The things I do to myself in random parking lots. Hot, enticing secret pleasures. We have been doing this charade a while now, but it never ceases to amaze me when you are interrupted and must stop talking. Sometimes it’s a sick child, or a crazy wife outside your door waiting to discover what secrets her loving husband is hiding.

Tonight is one of those nights. We are in the middle of some adorable getting to know you better conversation when you just stop. No response from you. I wait. Ten minutes pass and I decide to call it quits. I send you a good night love message and still, no response. And the worry sets in. I always have had a very active imagination and most days I struggle to keep it in check. My emotions get the best of me sometimes.

Tonight, I imagine that she knocked on your door and you quickly deleted our messages. You go to the door to unlock it and she is standing there in a long pink gown. It must be pink because it's my least favorite color. She asks if she can come in and talk. I give you credit because at first, you try to tell her how tired you are and how you just want to fall asleep. All those early mornings and late nights (talking to me) are taking their toll on your body. She doesn’t take no for an answer. She slides into your bed and you fall in beside her.

At my house, I have changed into pajamas, short shorts, and a tank top. I lie under the covers feeling alone and broken. Worthless and unwanted. The soft fabric pressing gently against my body causing me to think of your loving fingers embracing my skin. I hold myself, my thumb caressing my shoulders. I let the longing tears start to fall slowly down my cheeks.

You lie on your back and she lies on hers beside you, not touching. For minutes. No words. Just awkward silence. You notice small movement from her side. Your eyes open and you look at her. She is silently sobbing, her body moving the bed with each heartbreaking rush of tears. You turn towards her and wrap her into your loving arms. Your hands on her shoulders, fingers moving slowly. You kiss the top of her head and sigh.

I toss and turn and finally decided to rest on my side, one arm curled under my face and the other draped down my side. But I can’t stay still. I touch my newly rediscovered hip bones. All the unhealthy weight I have lost in the last few months revealing a sexy new skeleton that I am only beginning to discover. I breathe in deeply. I allow my hand to run up to my breast.

She places her small hand on your chest and your hand lies on her delicate side. Inwardly you are torn. You could lay completely still and pretend to sleep. Or you could try. Your fingers beginning to dance. They slowly tickle up her side, back and forth until the friction causes you to make your choice. You move your hand up to her breast. Your thumb finds her nipple and she sighs and shivers. You groan and press your mouth into hers hard, tasting the sad bitter tears.

I turn onto my back and remove all my clothing. I feel free now. Depressed and alone, but free. My hands glide all over my body. They pale in comparison to yours. I try to keep thoughts of you from my mind. My hand slides down between my legs. The tears are still falling. Silently and painfully. I wonder what you are up to right now as I slide one finger inside myself.

Your knee slides between her legs, opening her to you. her hands race up your back and lightly comb the back of your neck into your hair. Your lips fall to her neck. resting so lightly there you can feel her increased heartbeat. Her hand falls to your manhood. You growl, and she kisses your neck. her hand fondles you gently and yours pinch and pull at her nipples. Both of your mouths so close to each other, just sharing breath.

I pick up my pace and soon my body begins to shiver. Shivering pleasure and pain. I let loose, uncontrollably sobbing at this point. I want you. she can’t have you. why can’t you be mine? Why are we doing this to ourselves! My fingers plunge deeply inside me with aggravation and fear. Fear of what you are doing beneath your covers tonight. I cry out in pleasure when I finally come. Pleasure quickly followed by deep dark black hole of pain. I am broken. I cry openly and let myself shatter in all possible ways.

You lift her leg over yours and insert yourself into her. She screams. You let your head fall into the crook of her neck. her arms wrap around your neck and pull you close. You thrust cautiously at first, and then you let the fear and anger take over. Rough. You pull her hips onto you and leave marks. She continues to scream in pleasure. You bite her neck as she comes on you, and you into her. Your bodies both shaking, you lie there again in absolute awkward silence.

I check my phone one last time before throwing it against the wall. I turn onto my side one last time, my arms wrapped around myself again. This time it is not a gentle massage. I let my fingers claw into my sides hoping the physical pain will bring me some relief from my mental state. I claw until I feel blood well on the surface. I know in the morning I will find bruises and sores and hope that the scars will be reminders. Reminding me to stop all these stupid feelings and go back to normal. I fall asleep, assuring myself that I will be a cold bitch once again and all will be right in the world.

She turns to you and her fingers run down your jawline. You kiss the top of her head and she leaves you. as she shuts your door, you hear her gently whisper a thank you. you lie flat on your back, arms folded behind your head. There are no tears for you. you have the best of both worlds. You briefly glance at your phone, wondering if I am still awake as usual. Contemplating sending me a message. Your fingers ignite the keyboard, but I am not enough to keep you awake. I am not enough. You fall asleep feeling nothing, which I suppose is better than feeling pain.

In the morning, you wake up at the usual time, hoping to see a message from me. but there will be none. You drive to our regular rendezvous. But I am not there. You send a message hoping you can use those loving words to wake me as if I overslept. But your words fall on deaf ears. At this point, your words have become just words. I lie in my bed, alone but not angry anymore. I feel nothing. Soon you realize that I am not coming. The fear of losing me sets in and you realize the mistake you have made. I dress for work, silently building my own self-confidence back up. I plan to go on with life as if we were only just a dream. A wonderful dream, but a dream none the less. And as for you, well. Darling, welcome to my pain.