by Kate San Blas
(10/15/08)

In my room with the door closed, no one interrupts.

I want u 2 fuck me.

I wait as I feel the tremble between my legs. I touch myself, stroke back and forth with my hand, and moan. Then I continue: U know what fantasy I have about u all the time?

I slip off my panties, lie down on the bed, and spread my legs. I take my fingers and stroke myself, rubbing my clit in circles. I moan again. I want u, 2. When? When can we? I type in the final text and wait for his answer. But none comes. R u there? Please dont leave.

Silence after that. It tortures me each time. I want to scream. Finally, I'm tired. Going 2 bed. Nite. I press "End" to turn the phone off. Turn him off.

The next day I drive to work. On the way, I think about him. I think about us. I think about the raw, sensual tone between us. I think about the "me" I have become. It's been weeks, even months. What had life been like before? I say my good mornings to others as I travel to my room. Once there, I shut the door and sit in silence, staring at the board, the walls, the clock. And sit. Nothing has changed. A new year, yes, but all the same.

The phone rings. I pull it from my purse and see that it isn't him. I sigh and don't answer. I prepare my things for the day, and then check my email. Nothing newsy, just the usual memo: meeting after school Tuesday, like every Tuesday. I turn my head to face the door. And I wait to begin my day.

Lunch time comes soon enough. The cafeteria is full. I look for him; it's a habit I can't seem to break. I spot him seated three tables over. He's not alone. I want to get up and go sit with him. The urge is strong, but my insecurity is stronger. I stay seated. I glance his way often as I'm eating to see if he'll look. He does once. I half smile, not a full smile though, just a slight turning up of the corners of my mouth. He nods, and then turns away. I turn back to my lunch.

The afternoon meeting is short, and I'm home by four. I gather my things from the car -- books, laptop, binder -- and carry them in to my office. After piling them on my desk, I return to the kitchen for a drink. Just a small glass of wine to take off the edge, I tell myself.

I turn my phone back on and notice there's a message from my sister. She wants to make plans for lunch. I struggle over whether to do my work or call her first...when the phone buzzes. My breathing stops. It's him.

"Wanna play?"

I set my glass of wine on the counter. I walk to the bedroom and flip my laptop open. It flickers to life.

Those pants u had on 2day, tight on ur ass made me hot.

I feel myself give in, feel the warm rush all over. I can't stop it. What do u want 2 do?

I want 2 slide my cock in ur ass.

I quiver inside, a slight shudder that sends me unsteadily to the bed. I take my clothes off, slide my panties down, and turn the camera on. I snap a picture and hit send.

Yeah. Thats nice. 1 more?

I try another, from behind.

U r so fine. I want more. I want to hear u beg for it.

I know what he wants. I press video and give it to him. I close my eyes and pretend he's here, watching me. I even feel him touching me, caressing my leg. My fingers become his fingers. I hear him moaning with me, next to me. And then I open my eyes. I save, and think for a moment. U want the video?

I wait.

R u still there? Did u make the video?

Well, when can we be 2gether? My fingers tremble as I hit send.

I dont know.

Well, then I dont know if I can send the video! My fingers are slamming onto the keys.

Why not? I want to scream the words at him.

I have practice. We'll talk later.

I stare at the phone in my hand and fight the urge to throw it. I look at my naked body in the mirror and bring my fingers up to wipe my eyes. I put my clothes on and walk back to the kitchen to finish my wine. I drink it in a single gulp and pour another glass.

The next day is a repeat. Drive to work, prepare materials, pass the morning, eat lunch, search for him, work the afternoon. And no meeting. It's Wednesday, so I'm home by three-thirty.

He doesn't call or text. I spend the afternoon in my office, doing work. I glance at the clock every fifteen minutes or so. At five, I can't wait any longer. R u there?

I cant do it like this. Can I call? I wait, holding my breath.

My heart sinks, deep and heavy. I put the phone down and go take a long, hot shower. After dinner I try again.

I empty my glass and try one last time. No, it doesnt have to be that way. It takes 2, u know.

I couldnt though. I couldnt stop. Not if I was with u, next to u.

My fingers hover above the keyboard. I stare at his words, then actually do throw the phone across the room. It lands on the sofa. I shake my head and laugh. But a minute later I'm crying.

The clock chimes eight; I go to bed early.

I make it through the week. It's Friday evening and I have nothing to do. My choices: television or a book. My phone has been silent most every day since Wednesday. At least no calls from him. I decide on television. It makes noise. I watch an episode of Sex in the City. I laugh, but it's hollow and bitter. Carrie has been jilted by yet another guy.

The evening crawls on. I watch five episodes of the show and then head for the bedroom. The windows are open; the sound of crickets and a dog barking carry through the neighborhood. I stand facing the street and stare out, watching, listening, breathing in the coolness. Long minutes later, I turn toward the bathroom to wash.

In bed, I lie and wait. Finally, I reach over to check the phone and study the laptop's wallpaper. An ocean scene, in the gold and yellow hues of sunset. I set the phone back on the nightstand and fall asleep.

Monday I return to work; the morning passes in a blink. I sit at lunch with two younger women I don't know well. It was the only table open and close to his. They talked and I listened.

"Did you hear about him dating the new middle school gym teacher? Tonya something?" the one with short blonde hair asks.

"No! Are you serious?"

The blonde nods. "Yep. I guess for several months. And Jenn says it's serious."

"Well, it's about time he stays with one. What is he, about thirty?"

"But that's not all I heard." The blonde leans in close. I don't think she even notices I'm here. "One of his coaching buddies says he was texting someone pretty regular."

"And he knows this because...?"

She shrugs. "All I know is his friend says the texting was hot and heavy!"

The other woman giggles. "Oh my God! Are you serious? That's just too funny."

"Yeah, well, he better stop before Tonya finds out. That could kill a relationship in a heartbeat."

They both nod. I pretend I'm not interested and continue to eat my lunch in silence, concentrating on the book I brought with me. Curious, I wonder who they might be talking about. Another part of me, the reasonable but insecure part, thinks it's him. I lean my head forward enough that my hair hangs to the sides.

The blonde says, "Shush. He's just two tables away. See him, getting up to leave? God, I hope he didn't hear us. I wasn't talking too loud, was I?"

I turn my head just a bit to see who their eyes watch, and find it is him. I see him glance my way for a second. At least I think it is my way. Or maybe it's their way. It really doesn't matter. I get up. With a polite goodbye to my two tablemates I leave the cafeteria. I try to slow down my pace to look normal.

I don't feel normal though.

My afternoon is a blur of voices and images. The minutes and hours tick by. More than once, I think about leaving my room. I want to travel down the hallway, turn left and enter his room. I want to, but don't. My phone buzzes several times during class. I don't answer it and I don't turn it off despite the irritating distraction.

When the day ends, I gather my things to leave before the rush. I reach my car when a hand grabs my arm.

"Hey! What's the hurry?"

My breath catches. I steal a glimpse of his face, but then turn back to focus on the door lock. "I have to get home. I need to..." I stop to clear my throat.

"You okay?"

His voice sounds sincere. I turn to stare, unblinking, and I hope, unaffected. "I'm fine." With that I open the door and get in the car. I try to shut the door but he holds onto it.

"Please," I say.

He backs away, arms raised above his head. "If you need to talk..."

I hear that much, but drive away before he can say more. Now I let the tears come. Now, I can scream. What happened to the "me" from before?

When I get home and go inside I spot the suitcase in the hall. I clutch my purse close and tell myself to be calm. On the table I see the bouquet and a card. Slowly and deliberately I reach for the envelope. The outside flap shouts 'Happy Anniversary.' Inside I see the sentiment and sigh: "Happy thirtieth, sweetheart!"

His voice makes me jump, but I turn and smile. I ignore the sudden buzzing of my phone. "Happy Anniversary," I say, and cross the kitchen to give him my welcome-home hug.

Our permanent collection of erotic stories