It was three weeks before I saw Veronique again, and I was miserable every day. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was more than just the sex. It was the feeling I got from being able to connect with someone again.

And not just someone. Her. She met a version of me that was a fumbling idiot, but was patient and willing to look past it all. A woman like Veronique didn’t have to do that. But she saw something in me that was worth the effort. I can’t tell you how good that felt coming off the year I had. And so, every day I looked at that sticky note, I’ll be thinking of you, hoping it was true.

At the same time, I kept reminding myself of everything I’d been told about her. The idea that she could storm into my life and then brush me off like it was nothing seemed possible.

Whether she meant to or not, she was fucking with my head. I’d hardly spent any time with her, and suddenly I was living with this sense of dread that I’d lost something that was never really mine. Rob and Angela warned me she had this effect on people, but I walked right into it anyway.

The worst part was I couldn’t even get in touch with her. I knew Angela had her number, but I’d been avoiding the Black Dog. People saw us together, and we stayed later than everyone else. If I went back there, there’d be questions, and right now I didn’t have answers. If Veronique was ghosting me, I wasn’t ready for all the I told you so’s that were heading my way.

They wouldn’t understand what a year of shutting myself off did to me, what it was like to actually feel something again. But with each passing day, I started to think maybe that night was all it was ever going to be.

The reality was that if my story with her ended there, it wouldn’t be much different than half the others I’d already been told. If anything, I probably got off easy.

All of that is to say that when my lobby buzzer went off one Saturday afternoon, I wasn’t expecting it to be her.

“Grey?”

She came in crackling through the building’s old intercom system, but I instantly recognized her voice.

“Uh, yeah. Veronique?”

“Grab your stuff. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll be out front. You’ve got five minutes.”

I had no idea what she wanted me to grab or what she had in mind, but I got ready in record time.

When I left the building, Veronique was parked across the street, leaning against a vintage car. I don’t know much about cars, but it was old and pink. Probably from the 1950’s.

Two things hit me at once. The first was this overwhelming sense of relief that it was really her, and that she’d come back to see me. The second was how she looked even better than I remembered, which didn’t seem possible. All I could think was, I can’t believe I fucked her. It didn’t seem real to me. Sometimes it still doesn’t.

“Ready?”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Wherever you take me,” she said, tossing me the keys.

This probably would have been a gearhead’s dream, but I didn’t give a shit about the car. I was just happy to be with Veronique again.

“The Black Dog?”

“Nah,” she said. “We’ve got the car and the afternoon. Let’s actually go somewhere and do something.”

At first, I just started driving, not really sure where to go. The only place I could think of was the Thousand Islands National Park. It was about a half hour away, and I figured that might be a nice place to end up.

The car was a convertible, so once we got on the highway the wind made it hard to talk. Still, Veronique did her best to make the ride fun. She kept me entertained by smiling at me, sticking out her tongue, or pulling a face whenever I looked over at her. When that stopped making me laugh, she flipped me off, then out of nowhere cupped a boob and pretended to lick her nipple through her shirt.

After that, she cranked the stereo. She kept spinning the dial, listening for a second or two, then moved on to the next song until she landed on “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” by Kylie Minogue. The lyrics hit a little too close to how my last three weeks had gone, and by the looks of it, maybe it was the same for her. She sang along to it, practically dancing in her seat, while imitating Kylie from the video.

When we pulled into the parking lot, Veronique looked surprised.

“A park?”

“It’s all I could think of.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know a lot of places around here. It was this or the Gananoque mall, and I didn’t think the K-Mart would impress you.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Yeah,” I replied, a little confused.

“I thought you might be bringing me somewhere isolated where you could take advantage of me.”

“No,” I laughed.

“Too bad.” And with that, she hopped out of the car.

We walked down a dirt path and stopped for ice cream in a little family area. I got a little bowl of frozen yogurt while Veronique was trying to decide what she wanted.

“I usually go for chocolate, but lately I've been reconsidering vanilla.” She shook her head like she'd made up her mind. "Yeah, vanilla please."

There’s a reason why cheesy sex comedies always show women eating ice cream in slow motion as some kind of blowjob metaphor. The way she was licking her cone, I genuinely couldn’t tell if Veronique was being ironic or not. Either way, if I didn’t stop watching her, I was going to get arrested for having a hard-on in the picnic zone.

With that crisis averted, we kept walking until we came to the beach. Veronique ran ahead, kicking off her heels, and waded ankle-deep into the St. Lawrence.

She made her way over to a large rock that stuck up out of the water and sat on it. I was wearing pants, shoes, and socks, so I had to figure out a way to get over to her without getting wet. I climbed down the side of an incline, then jumped onto the boulder next to Veronique.

“I feel like I’ve known you for a long time,” she said. “You’re like an old pair of slippers. You just fit right.”

“I hope that’s a French expression that doesn’t translate well,” I laughed.

“No, it’s true.” I heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes. She meant it.

“In a way, I felt like I knew you before we met. I’d heard so many—"

“Rumours at the Black Dog?”

“I was going to say stories, but yeah, a few rumours too,” I said, fibbing a little. “But I don’t believe everything I hear. I know people exaggerate.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just not so fun when you’re always the one being exaggerated about.”

We didn’t say anything for a bit, just sat there watching boats go by.

“I owe Angela a lot, everything really,” Veronique continued. “But some of the other guys… they’re small town. Know what I mean?”

“I do, yeah.”

“And sometimes small-minded too.” She leaned into me, pushing her shoulder into mine. “I think that’s why I like you. Another big-city boy. You’re different from them. More open-minded.”

“The night we met... I got in my own head. Maybe they got in it, too. I was a nervous wreck. That wasn’t me. This is.”

“I know. I came back for a reason.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Me too," she said. "You should kiss me now.”

It took me a second to be sure that I’d heard her right, but she was smiling and nodding with encouragement. I thought back to our first night together and how she fucked me, but didn’t want to kiss. That had been stuck in my head ever since. Now she was literally asking for it. I put my hand on the back of her neck and gently guided her towards me. It was soft, but Veronique reacted to it strongly. Something about it caught her off guard, and when she pulled away, she held my eyes for a moment, then stood up.

“Let’s go skinny dipping.” She lifted her top off over her head, with no care in the world.

“Now?”

“Why not?” She smiled back and already had her shorts halfway down her legs.

“It’s mid-afternoon in a public park. Someone might see us.”

“You’re right. They might.” Her panties were off now. She stood looking down at me for a second, then blocked her nose and let herself fall backwards into the water. Once the splash settled, she came back up. “You coming in or what?”

It wasn’t like me to do anything like this, but I couldn’t say no to her. I looked around, a bit panicked as I undressed. I got into the water as fast as I could to cover myself up as quickly as possible.

“I knew you’d do it.” She already had me figured out.

I swam over to her. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“And now I have an accomplice,” she said, splashing me.

We played in the water for a bit, talking, swimming around, and getting to know each other a little better. There was more to Veronique than just being this sassy, always-in-control stunner. She had a great sense of humour and was fun to be around. It was disarming in a way. And when she let her guard down, she had a bit of a nerdy streak too. I don’t think she showed that to many other people.

After going on a funny but insightful rant about how the X-Files was ruined the moment Mulder knew he was right, I had to ask her the ultimate question.

“Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“Trek, all the way.”

“Really?”

“Not even close,” she said, full of confidence.

I liked both, but had always considered myself a Star Wars guy, so I pressed her to explain.

“They had a Russian officer during the Cold War, and a black, female officer, who gave us the first interracial kiss, all before the Civil Rights Act was passed, or Women’s Liberation even got off the ground. Star Wars is about a mopey farmer who wants to fuck his sister.”

I’d never heard it put that way before, but she had a point.

The way we were talking made it easy to forget that we were both naked and there were other people around. It became a thing to laugh and duck down to our necks whenever someone came by. It was the guiltiest way of saying trust us, we’re not naked. Nothing here to see.

Everything about the day was pushing me closer to Veronique, but I still had Angela’s voice running through my head. Don’t fall in love with her.

I knew it was too soon for anything like that, but I was still fighting with the idea. I couldn’t help what I was feeling, or where I hoped this would go. But at the same time, part of me was holding back to protect myself. It wasn’t so much that I was buying into what others had said about her; I just couldn’t believe that she’d be interested in me.

Veronique travelled the world and dated pro athletes. I was nearly thirty, unemployed, with four years of university ahead of me. It didn’t add up that she’d want to be involved with someone in my situation when she could have anyone. Literally, anyone. But her smile and the way she looked at me? I knew that wasn’t fake.

“Let’s go over there,” she said, pointing to the far side of the rock incline. She plunged forward, and I followed.

When I joined her, she was sitting waist-deep in the water, leaning against a stone slab. Her tits were on full display. We couldn’t be seen from the beach, but there were still plenty of boats going by.

“Sit up here,” she said, tapping the surface of the stone.

“I’m naked.” No one could hear us, but I whispered for some reason. “The boats.”

“They’re not going to be able to see your dick. It’s going to be in my mouth.”

I raised myself out of the water so fast I think I pulled three different muscles.

Veronique smiled, almost laughing at my eagerness. She took my cock in her hand and started stroking it.

“You were good last time,” she said, while her hand kept moving up and down. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t say anything else.

“Do you think about me when you jerk off?”

I nodded.

“Say it.”

“I think about you.” I swallowed hard. “When I jerk off.”

“No one else?”

“No.” I wasn’t lying.

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

One of the things that was hard to understand about Veronique was how she was always so relaxed in situations like this, and there were a lot of them during our time together. I was standing there, practically petrified, and she was stroking my cock like it was a totally normal thing to be doing out in the open. I think she loved how uncomfortable I was, while also knowing there was no way in the world I’d ever ask her to stop.

“Licking that ice cream got me thinking that I needed to get something else in my mouth this afternoon,” she said with a sly grin, still stroking. That was the best $4 I'd ever spent in my life.

She leaned forward and wrapped her lips around my cock. Before I met Veronique, I hadn’t fucked anyone in a year. It had been even longer since I’d gotten a blowjob. With my last girlfriend, there was always a catch when it came to sex. If I fucked her, it was usually after a black guy had already. It was never about my pleasure. It was always to remind me that I was second to the other guys in her life. A blowjob didn’t do that, so there was no point to them in her eyes.

Veronique just wanted to give me one, like making me feel good was reason enough. And she really knew what she was doing. My god, did she ever. I reached down and moved her wet hair to the side so that I could watch my cock slide in and out of her mouth. It’s been twenty years, and I can still picture every detail like it was yesterday.

“You like the way I suck your cock?”

I tried to answer her, but I just stammered before blurting out “yeah, my god, yeah.”

Veronique moved one hand to my balls while the other kept working my shaft. Her lips made it impossible to think about anything else. She didn’t try to drag it out and started going harder. She was determined to make me come fast.

I couldn’t keep up with her intensity, and knew I wasn’t going to last more than a few minutes. My hips shot forward, and my cock pulsed in her mouth. She didn’t flinch. She took it all without even breaking her rhythm.

“That was good,” she said, as she wiped spittle from her mouth with the back of her hand. “We’ll work on your stamina.”

“Sorry,” I said, a little sheepishly.

“Cheer up,” she said. “Working on it means getting more.”

I loved the sound of that.

We grabbed our clothes, then one at a time ran up to the beach to get dressed while the other was on lookout. At one point, I stood in the water watching Veronique double over laughing. She was too slow getting her clothes on, had to strip again and run back into the water because someone was coming. It was something we laughed about for months.

When we got back to the car, there were a couple of guys checking it out. There was one on either side, circling it, making comments and pointing things out to each other.

They saw us approach, and one of them asked me if it was mine.

“Not mine, hers,” I said, pointing at Veronique with my thumb.

“Not mine either, actually. Borrowed it from a friend for the day.”

“She’s a beauty,” the second guy said, looking at his friend through the corner of his eyes. The two of them smirked at each other, like we didn’t know they were talking about Veronique. “I’d love to get inside her.”

“It’s for sale if you’re interested,” Veronique told them, choosing to ignore their innuendos.

“A few hundred an hour?” His friend laughed. The dunces thought they were being clever.

“$30,000.”

“Oof. She’s nice, but not that nice.”

By then, we were in the car, with Veronique in the driver’s seat this time. One of the guys leaned down against the door on her side.

“Give me your number. We can talk about it.”

“I’m not interested,” Veronique said.

“Maybe a kiss goodbye then?”

Veronique looked at me and smiled, then slowly turned her head back to him. "You want his cock on your breath too?” she shot back.

The guy's jaw dropped. So did mine. Neither one of us could believe what she'd said.

“Byeeeee…” Veronique dragged it out as she pulled away.

“Assholes,” I said.

“I’m used to it. It happens all the time.”

“Really?” I don’t know why I asked that. Of course it did.

She looked at me with a crooked smile. “If they were black and had any charm at all, you might’ve been walking home, though.”

That hit me like a gut-punch because I suddenly realized that she’d been dropping hints all day. Her I usually go for chocolate comment, and the way she brought up the Star Trek interracial kiss weren't random. She was signalling something, maybe fishing for a reaction, and until the moment, it all went over my head. In my mind, I went back to the story of her and the two black guys, and just like the first night we met, once it got in there, I couldn’t push it out.

She must have seen something in my face, or maybe was taken aback when I didn’t laugh. The reality was that my brain just bricked.

“My God, I’m kidding,” she said in an exaggerated tone. “Lighten up.”

“Right… yeah… of course, kidding.” I was the fumbling idiot again.

When we got back to Kingston, she pulled up in front of my place.

“It was… an interesting day.” There was a hesitation in her voice that didn’t quite add up.

“It was, but it’s still early,” I said, as I tried to read her face. “You could come in, or we could go for dinner?”

She thought about it longer than I was comfortable with. Something was up for sure. “Not inside. Dinner,” she finally said.

A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of Chez Piggy.

“It’s a Saturday night,” I said. “We’re not going to get in there without a reservation.”

“I know the manager. Feed the meter some coins. I’ll go talk to him.”

I joined her inside, and she was mid-conversation with the guy who I assumed was the manager. They were speaking to each other in French, so I only got part of their conversation. Two things were clear. He was flirting with her and wasn’t happy to see me. Still, he gave us a table.

As the host walked through the restaurant, Veronique whispered to me. “I feel sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Johnstone. They don’t know it yet, but their reservation just got cancelled.” It was a funny comment, but I saw her catch herself when she said it. Like she’d forgotten whatever was bothering her, and let it slip out too casually.

The dinner was great, but a bit awkward. We were underdressed for an upscale place. My khakis and polo shirt were borderline fine, but Veronique’s jean shorts were causing a stir. I don’t think she even noticed, though. She was too distracted by whatever made her think twice about dinner in the first place. So we more or less ate in silence. I was too afraid to bring it up.

Before dessert, Veronique put her elbows on the table and folded her hands under her chin.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked in that way where no wasn’t going to be an option.

“Of course.”

“Do you have a problem with black people?”

I don’t know what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

“No. Why would you even ask that?”

“Karl does. Quite a few people around here do. I thought you were different.”

“I am. And Karl? Really?” I’d never heard him say racist, but it’s not something she’d make up. Veronique ignored my question and kept going.

“Then why did you freeze up when I made the joke about what might’ve happened if the two guys at the car were charming and black?”

If she only knew how loaded her question was, given my past.

“It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“Okay,” she said, not really sounding convinced.

Our dessert arrived. We had a few bites, and Veronique circled back to the conversation again.

“Were you told the story about how Angela and I became friends?”

“I heard it, yeah.”

“My joke made you think about that, right? It pissed you off, and you couldn’t handle it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Grey, I’m going to be honest with you. The way you reacted to that was a huge fucking turn off. I wanted to drop you at your place and never see you again.”

“Veronique—”

“I’m serious. The only reason why we’re here is because if I sucked your dick and never talked to you again, that would just be one more fucking rumour added to the pile. That’s the only reason why you’re getting this chance.”

I wanted to tell her to calm down. Never tell a woman to calm down. Unless what you actually want is for her to explode.

“I promise, you’ve got this all wrong.”

“Stop telling me I’ve got it wrong and start telling me why I’m wrong.”

I knew right then that I had to let her know about my history, or this was going to be over before it even started. I could tell by how angry she was that she was actually disappointed. That meant she cared.

The problem was, I couldn’t have this conversation in a restaurant. So I sat there with my mouth shut, which only made things worse.

“Just so you know, that story is true. I fucked them both. For a few days straight. And I loved it.” She said it with such venom, like she was trying to twist the dagger, not understanding that I really wasn’t bothered.

She was staring me down, breathing hard and seething, saying things that she thought would push my buttons, trying to provoke me. Maybe this was what Angela considered going nuclear. What she was saying would have been devastating if it actually upset me. But it didn’t.

“I don’t regret it. Not a second of it.”

“Honestly—"

“I’ve done it more than once, too. A lot more than once. All the fucking time, actually.”

She was getting louder, and the manager who wasn’t happy to see me was suddenly counting on me to calm the situation down.

“Can we talk about this someplace else?” I asked in the quietest possible voice, looking to both my left and right, trying to make her aware that everyone around us was paying attention.

Her shoulders dropped, and some of the red in her face started to soften. She didn’t look forgiving. She looked defeated.

“There’s no point, Grey,” she said. “I can’t date a racist.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why all of this?”

I was about to say something that I knew I couldn’t take back.

“Because I have a past, too.”