Missed calls: 0

She woke, realizing by the way the sun came in the room that it was already late in the morning. Exhausted from tossing and turning, the dreams feverish and dark.

The dreams have shadows obscuring the images. A kiss under moonlight. Wet grass tickling her bare toes in her sandals. His smell on her face; his taste in her mouth. Then silence. A faceless woman. Blonde, she thought. Blocking her path.

She lay in the bed, pillows piled around her. Determined to make the day normal. As she thought “normal,” a small knot formed in her stomach. She took a deep breath. Counted to ten. But she couldn’t help but look at the clock. 10:45 a.m. One hour and 15 minutes. Her head did the math quickly.

A week ago, lying in his arms. “I understand,” she’d said. Knowing she couldn’t commit to what he wanted. Needed. Or maybe it was shouldn’t. It seemed like semantics, then. “You know I couldn’t go anyway. She’s a nice girl. Maybe she‘s the one.”

His text came 30 minutes before he was supposed to leave. “Hey baby. Leaving soon. I’ll call when I get home.” She tried to do the math. Drive, ceremony, reception, drive . . .. She purposefully left out other possibilities. Though in the back of her mind she knew it was inevitable.

“I love the way you kiss, baby. So slow. So good.” She’d responded by covering his mouth fiercely then, sucking his tongue into hers, feeling him hard against her leg. His cock twitched, and she could feel the thin, sticky wet droplet on her hip. She groaned into his mouth. Reached down to catch the drop. Brought it to her mouth, tasting it, then letting him taste it on her tongue.

12:15 p.m. She finished her shower. Resisted the urge to check e-mail. Gave in a minute later. Kicked herself a minute later. No messages. She tentatively wrote one to him. Simple. “I think you said you were picking her up at noon. 15 minutes into this and I’m struggling. I thought it would be easier.” Quickly closed the e-mail. Vowing not to check again. Slipped on her heels and checked herself in the mirror before heading out. Her face was still red from his beard.

She felt his fingers slide inside the leg of her panties, touching her wetness. Her gasp was audible; a small moan escaped her mouth as his fingers slid between the soft folds, before plunging inside of her. His hand on the back of her head forced her mouth onto his, crushing her lips against her teeth; his beard scratching her chin, her cheeks, as he kissed her frantically. She writhed against him, bearing down on his fingers as she screamed into his mouth.

2:45 p.m. She got a text. “Having a good time.” She knew he slipped away somewhere to send it. Wanted her to not worry. Which made her worry more. She replied. Light. Witty. She sat biting her thumbnail, looking at her response. “Glad to hear. Will be up late if you want to talk later.” Hoping she didn’t sound desperate, she pressed “send.” She slipped her phone in her pocket.

She rode him in the dim light, back arched, breasts jutting forward, his hands on her hips. For an instant, she had a moment of panic, thinking her phone was still on. Didn’t want the call. It was in the pocket of her jeans, somewhere in the heap of clothes by the bed. His hand reached up, cupping a breast, pinching a nipple, bringing her back. The sensation jolted her back to the naked reality. He thrust up inside her again, and she forgot all about the phone.

She checked her phone again. No messages. No calls. Phantom buzzing in her pocket. 4:15 p.m. She needed something constructive to occupy her time. She slipped on her bikini. Grabbed a blanket and started to head outside to find a warm patch of sun. She was almost out the door when she hesitated and went back inside. She grabbed the phone. Still nothing. She took her blanket, stretched it out in the sun, and lay down, feeling the sun heat her skin, melt her bones, take away the stiffness, the edge. She was asleep in minutes, the phone beside her.

The sun warmed her shoulders, the top of her head. Where her skin met the water, there was a chill. Where her skin met his, it was warm again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, buoyed by the water, kissing the drops of water from his neck. He cupped her ass in his hands, pulling her against his crotch, positioning her so that his cock pressed against her through the fabric of her bikini. She leaned against him as he moved, slightly, pressed against her clit. She shuddered when her release hit, without a sound.

She woke with a start. 6:15 p.m. The sun had shifted; she lay in the shade now. She checked her phone, thinking maybe he called. But the display was empty. No messages. No calls. Empty feeling in her stomach. Maybe it was hunger. She thought about dinner. Gathered her stuff and went inside. Clutching the phone. She checked to make sure the ringer volume was set high enough to hear. Thought about sending a text. Closed the phone; she had her pride, too.

They stood under the heater on the outside patio. The last two customers. The tables and chairs around them were already stacked. They were oblivious to it. He reached his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She could feel it coming. The first kiss. His face warm, his breath tickling hers. His lips grazing hers; she pulled back slightly, to look in his eyes again. Mesmerized by the steely blue. His beard tickled her face as their lips met, parted, tongues searching each other out instantly. Did it last a second? Five? Ten? She lost track of time. Only the feel of his mouth on hers, his body pressed to hers, fingers of the night chill stealing in to touch them now and then.

She watched the movie, half-listening. The vibration in her pocket made her jolt. 9:00 p.m. Her body flush. She discreetly pulled it out. “One new message.” Her heart thudded in her chest. But it wasn’t him. It was just a friend. She replied, mechanically, and put the phone back in her pocket.

They stood. Flushed, aroused. Her mouth, feeling bruised, lips swollen. He held her hand. “If you want, you could go. Or you could come upstairs.” Her heart skipped beats. She should go. Then he leaned in and kissed her again. Full on the mouth. Sharing the air inside of her lungs. A rush of wetness; she groaned, and stepped to the right. Away from the door. He led her by the hand upstairs.

She tidied her room. Tried not to think about the time. 11:23 p.m. Put new sheets on the bed. Moved the phone to the nightstand. Put away some clothes. Wrote an e-mail to a friend. Checks the phone. Laid it beside her. Convincing herself no to worry. She began writing an e-mail to him, but got halfway through it before she erased it. Two hours later, the phone still silent, she laid it on the nightstand again, turned off the light, and buried herself in the pillows. She was tired, emotionally. Her body would catch up soon.

He was poised over her, his eyes watching her, his body tense, and his cock, positioned at her opening. The silky head nestled between the soft, wet flesh, waiting. She held his face, and he locked eyes with her, pressing inside of her. She welcomed him, opening up, feeling him fill her. His eyes never left her face and she whispered “You’re inside of me now.” He responded with a nod, his jaw flexing, and he thrust harder, making her groan. She held him tight as he stroked, taking her to that edge, pulling her heart with him.

She woke, realizing by the way the sun came in the room that it was already late in the morning. Disconcerted and disoriented, she glanced at the time. 10:45 a.m. Her heart sank. Picked up the phone. She flipped open the phone, scrolling down, glancing at the display. Felt nauseous.

“Missed calls: 0”