When I think of you
it is not the ending—
the way you ran to me
outside Starbucks
the desperate kisses
the way we held each other
knowing that these
were the last moments
of that special space
we had built over a year—

The space where it was
just you and me
and our bodies
in hotel rooms
on business trips

a space free
of your husband
and my girlfriend.

No, when I think of you
it’s the beginning—

Not the absolute beginning
in online chatrooms
where you and hubby would
play on cam and
I first fell
for your face
and your pussy and
we flirted our way
into unfaithfulness.

No, I think of the physical beginning
the first time we met
at that Mexican restaurant
when we had just been seated and
you excused yourself and
went to the bathroom and
I watched you walk away
half triumphant at
what we had wrought
half disbelieving
this was really happening.

I studied you as you walked back
learning the way you walked
the way you carried yourself.
You sat down and
gazed at me, confident, aroused.

You held your right hand out to me
across the table
your index and middle fingers extended.
They glistened.

“Taste me,” you commanded.

I leaned forward wrapped
my lips around your fingers
moved forward until they
filled my mouth
and sucked.

Your taste filled my mouth.
The fact of us smashed
into being around us
built from my overwhelm
and your brazen lust.
I sucked and licked.

“Good boy,” you purred.