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Only an Arrangement

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Apr 04, 2016

I woke up at 4 am on Wednesday, restless and replaying the unexpected events from the night before in my mind.   I rolled over to check my phone and was surprised to have received a long letter from the doctor just hours before.  It only confirmed that what I experienced with him was in fact reality and not just a dream.

 

An arrangement. It was just supposed to be an arrangement, I reminded myself.  Nothing involving feelings.  And yet I found myself baffled at how something that was meant to be all business could feel so incredibly…passionate.

 

After he kissed me by the window at The Roxy, I decided to slip my dress off.  He called me a goddess.  He told me I should be worshipped.  I hung on his every word.  He lay me down on the bed.  We both decided we wouldn’t sleep together that night.  

 

But before I knew it, we were both breaking our rules.  I gave in.  Fireworks.  That night, for the first time in my life, I had three orgasms.

 

Afterwards, I was lying in his arms with my head on his chest, my hair a wild mess.  We began opening up to each other about our past (and current) relationships.  I told him a bit about my divorce and how I had pridefully left my ex husband without any sort of settlement for myself.  I told him about the slew of meaningless flings I had rebounding after my marriage.  He was so easy to talk to.

 

He told me that he felt very neglected in his marriage and that lying there with me was the first time he hadn’t felt lonely in years.  And then he asked me something.

 

“Bianca, what is your greatest fear with me?”

 

“Getting hurt,” I replied without hesitation, “What’s yours?”

 

“Bianca?  I am afraid that I am going to fall in love with you.”

 

I paused.  I was flattered.  But I brushed it off as post coital infatuation.  How could anyone have feelings that strong after only meeting someone twice?

 

We lay together for hours.  He confessed to me that he was abused by his father as a child and at one point, he was a drug addict and a sex addict.

 

“Aren’t we all sex addicts?” I joked seductively.  He didn’t laugh.

 

Moments later, he sweetly kissed me on the forehead and informed me that it was time to head home.  His curfew was 9pm.

 

As he showered, I slipped on my dress and coat.  I cringed as I collected the envelope full of cash from the dresser.  It was a harsh reminder of the true nature of this relationship and perhaps the reality check I needed.

 

Don’t fall for this guy, don’t fall for this guy, I repeated in my mind on the cab ride to my apartment.

 

After all, I doubted I’d be hearing much from him until our next date…