Love and Lust

It wasn't until recently that I realized that the two can go hand in hand....

She’s so beautiful. Every time I look at her, I feel like I should be thanking her. I don’t deserve her. She’s so intelligent. She doesn’t let anyone know though. She hides it. She says she does that because when people realize what you’re capable of, they take advantage of you. It’s such a negative and closed off kind of statement, but the gleam in her eye and the smile on her face are so mesmerizing that you just don’t realize that it is. She always has a joke or a sarcastic comment yet she’s gentle as a lamb and has a heart of gold. I don’t deserve her.

I love that she’s the perfect housewife and mom. Although I try, she never lets me wait on her. She loves to take care of me. She looks so adorable in her apron. She kicks me out of the kitchen and says that I am in her “space” when I am in there with her. She’s a wonderful mom. Nothing comes before that kid. When I first met her she was pretty quiet and defensive about him. She kept him private for so long. I realize how lucky I am to know them both now. She so shy and timid. I don’t deserve her.

Tonight, she’s watching me get ready. The boy is with the grandparents. After I leave, she will have her time to get ready. She hates my job. She is working her second job also tonight. She is laying on the bed flipping through a magazine. I am tying my tie. I look over at her and my heart swells. She’s too good for me. Her messy hair and a concert t-shirt are her trademark at home attire. Tonight it’s cold and rainy and she is wearing knee socks. They are crisp white except for the three black rings at the top near her knees. I laugh when she puts them on and she thinks she looks like a “dork”. I have yet to tell her how sexy they are. She blushes when I tell her she’s beautiful. When I say she is sexy, she looks away and giggles like a school girl. To this day, I am still in awe that she would have anything to do with me. She looks a little pouty. I am working early tonight so I am not going to be having dinner with her. She’s saddened by that. She loves to sit at the table together. It’s mundane and it’s a normal routine for many people in the world. I would prefer to have my meals in front of the TV, but she loves to sit together, so I humor her and smile because when she is happy, all is right.

I gather my things and climb into the truck. The drive to work is quick. Our apartment isn’t far. I back out of our parking lot and turn the corner passed the mailboxes to make the right towards the light. I stop and take out my phone. I type a text: “I cant wait 2 kiss U!” My phone, always secure in my pocket on vibrate, password at the ready tells me, that my lustful thought has been sent. I imagine her hearing the “ding” of a new message. In my mind’s eye the phone is in the other room. She is wearing nothing but black panties and a tank top and legs so strong and graceful and tan prance to the counter to fetch the coveted gadget. She sees my name and her heart skips a beat. She reads what I have confessed. She smiles and leans on the counter, bent over a*s out on tiptoes. Even alone she’s seductive, I know she is. She runs her tongue along her bottom lip then bites down on it and thinks of a thousand dirty little things to tell me in return, but settles on “Soon, lover… soon.”

The light has changed and I hear the blaring horn from behind me second and the “ding” of a message received from my phone (now on “loud” so I can receive HER messages clearly) first. I hit the gas and read her text. I love when she calls me her “lover”. At the next light I slow down to catch the yellow arrow and stop again. I adjust my erection and thank the Gods that it’s so cold outside. I hope I can concentrate at work.

I get to the club and the music is blaring and the lights look great. Well, great for the seedy club that it is. Someone changed the bulbs. I find myself wondering why someone would do that. Is there a special occasion tonight that would make someone go out of their way to fix something? The boss must be here. I’m greeted by the same hugs and jokes that I always am. I hang up my jacket and linger at the schedule in the back room. It’s freezing right here where I am standing. The manager is smoking out back in his car and the door is open. I can smell the pot he smoked ten minutes ago and the Camel Light he is trying to cover it up with. Damn it!. Now, this means I will have to go out in the rain and get him pasta when the munchies come.

Three hours, a pack of smokes, two red bulls and one soggy trip to the local pizza joint later, I am pretty tired. We’ve been busy. There was a group of lesbians celebrating one of their friends birthdays. They paid $100 to get their incredibly butch friend up on stage and have the girls make an a*s out of her. I enjoyed it too much, I think. She was a b***h. She pissed off all the girls. That pisses me off. When they are pouty, they don’t work. When they don’t work, I don’t get tips. I stifled a yawn and thought about maybe just one more red bull, but my shift is ending early so I don’t want to be up all night for no reason. I reach into my shirt pocket for a cigarette and my phone dings. My heart instantly beats faster and I suddenly, I have a bit of energy. I open the message. “I can’t stop thinking about our HOUSE! A real house!! I love you!” My wife.

I’ve been working this second job to pay for it. The day gig is enough for our apartment, but our son needs a yard. He’s my son too now. I plan to have a workshop in the back for her, but it’s going to be a surprise. I promised her we’d have a baby once we moved in. I am daydreaming again. She’s pregnant and happy and I am not working here. I don’t answer the text. I just lock the keys on the phone and slip it back into my pocket. I take out the smokes and slide one from the pack. As I am looking down at a pack of matches, I smell her perfume. I didn’t see her walk in. She always uses the back door. I have been watching her all night though.

She’s magnificent. I know what her mouth tastes like and still fantasize about every time I close my eyes. I can’t begin to describe the way she smells. Simply delicious. Every now and then we go to our “spot” in the club and I steal a kiss then I find myself huffing my tie all night after she has pressed those curves against me. I shouldn’t do this. I am at work. This shouldn’t be exciting. It’s taboo. It’s wrong. Her skin is so soft. I am professional. She steals little glances at me and I know everyone sees it. I blow it off. I laugh and joke. They don’t take it too far though. I’m a family man. I love my wife. My wife with her mousy hair and her glasses. My wife with the pencil tucked behind her ear that she can never find.

She is walking towards me. My heart is pounding and I am doing my best hide a s**t eating grin. It’s a mere “up to something” smirk right now. She is as tall as I am in those shoes. She places her hand on my chest and I am sure I am going to wet my pants. She leans in close to my ear and her breath is hot and smells like a sweet mixture of mint and mango lip gloss. I am fighting the urge to lean in and let her nibble my earlobes. She’s just warning me about a guy by the stage. The other girls have said he’s kind of an a*****e. Her set is next. She knows I will take special care of her. When she says the word, “special” she makes it breathy and somehow it lingers. I simply nod like a minion. I’m hers. I will do her bidding and she knows it. She can manipulate any man she wants. In a flash she is gone. I pretend that I am not watching her walk away. If I get caught watching her swish and sway, I’ll never hear the end of it from the other guys. They know better though. I have a family to support and I love my wife. That’s all they need to know.

The music changes and the lights go low and eerie. I step away from my post and make my way towards the alleged a*****e by the stage. I know it’s her music. I know it’s her lighting. I know a real show is about to begin. Her dress is the most brilliant red I have ever seen and hugs her body so well that it looks painted on. Even though you can see every curve and dip of her body, she is covered. Everyone in the room is thinking about what must be under there. I know I am. She has a white flower in her hair. It glows in the black light and the disco ball above the stage catches it’s little hints of glitter. It’s striking against her jet black hair. I think of the contrast of my wife’s dazzling socks with the black lines. I don’t deserve her.

She never looks into the mirrors. The DJ never has to talk to her to get her to smile or relax. She’s got this. Every time someone rises to the stage to tip her, she looks them dead in the eye and smiles. She never loses them from the time she catches their eye until she gives them her trademark red kiss. She adores red lipstick. You can always tell who’s gotten a dance from her or tipped her on stage. They bear her mark proudly. I have to make sure she doesn’t get it on my collar. She doesn’t have to work the room like the other girls. Once she’s had a customer, they are hers for life. She just has to make a phone call and they are there ready to spend. I’m as taken as the audience is now. I catch a figure in the corner of my eye. It’s the a*****e. He’s up and ready to tip her.

He has a cigarette already lit in one hand and five dollar bill in the other. I over heard him bragging to his buddies that he tips fives so that he can say what ever he wants to the girls. Apparently in his world, it’s less demeaning with a five than with a one. She sees him and doesn’t back down. She doesn’t ignore him like the other younger girls have when they have been on stage. She looks him dead in the eye and sways and swishes those hips to where he is. She never takes her gaze off of him. He sees her challenge and doesn’t drop his either. He smiles. She smiles. He’s thinking, “Come get it b***h.” She’s thinking, “I’ve got you now, b***h!” She kneels down to be face level with him and licks her lips. This works, he breaks the gaze and watches her cherry colored tongue run along that pretty mouth. She takes the opportunity of his weakness and leans into his ear. I know how wonderful she smells and how her breath feels there, but not quite there. He’s closed his eyes and is leaning back. Other dancers are in awe that she has tamed the beast, but the ones who know her well are waiting for THE moment. She whispers something in his ear and stands up. She looks like an Amazon warrior. Her face is hard. Her nostrils are flared and she is a shining brilliant red clad ball of fury standing at almost six feet in those shoes and now even taller on the stage. The a*****e snapped out of it then. He tosses the five dollar bill at her and grabs his coat and storms off. She didn’t need me. She just wanted me to watch.

After her set is over I hear the girls in the dressing room high fiving and cheering her for the riddance of the a*****e. I sent a text: “I want U on my lap. NOW!” I slip away and head to “our spot” to wait for her. While I am waiting I think of my wife. My cute wife. The woman in the t-shirt making hamburger helper. The one who picks of up my laundry and makes sure we never run out of all of my favorites. The woman who gives me the last slice of pizza. The woman who rubs my back and shoulders until I fall asleep. I think of her. My wife loves me. I think of how in love I am with the woman who just walked off stage. This is wrong. I am at work. I am a professional. My shift is almost over. I just need to hold her once before I go home.

She walked in and I saw them. The tears. I knew I was the only one. “What did you say to him?” is not a question I am going to ask. She wouldn’t tell me anyway. I am sitting on the lonely little stool and I pat my knee. She hasn’t even dressed yet. She is in her shoes and panties only. She holds her arms across her breasts not like she is ashamed of them, but they should be ashamed of themselves. She sits and puts her nose in the crook of my neck. “Easy with the lipstick… my wife does my laundry ya know”, I say to tried to lighten the mood. She takes a deep breath and I can tell she is taking in my scent. Smoke, cologne, and sweat. It’s hot in this little room. I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. She adjusts so I can see her face. She is still so beautiful. I look deep into her eyes and say, “I love you” without saying a word. Someone is calling my name through the walkie on my hip. “I have to go. My shift is almost over.” , I tell her. She nods and blinks. Not one tear falls. I kiss her gently on the forehead and pat her behind playfully so she will stand. I let her leave first. Then I follow. I clock out and head out into to the cold to my car.

The drive home seems so much quicker than the drive there. My porch light is on. My wife thinks of everything. She left it on when she left to go to work. She knew I’d be home in the dark. She will get here with the sun. I send my wife a text: “There’s no place like home.” This is how she knows I made it safely. I don’t expect an answer. I know she is busy. I strip from my uniform and stand in the hot shower until it runs cold. I always feel that I should boil myself after a night at the club. I turn the water off and I hear a “ding”. My heart races. I run naked and still a little wet from the tiny bathroom and jump the bed to the nightstand where my phone lays. It’s HER.

“Thx 4 the help w/the a-hole. *sarcasm* I love you!” She’s a tough cookie. She’s so funny. I grin and lay back.

She loves me too. There’s no way to hide it. I decide not to put on pajamas and just lay there in the cold room waiting for my wife to get home. I can’t stop thinking about HER. She smelled so sweet tonight. I know that when her shift is over, she will get home still amped up from the night and write. Those tears in her eyes will take on a life of their own in one of her stories. She’ll be clever and tell a tale of the way the fake eyelashes they were hanging to were even less dignified that the tears themselves. I wonder what she said to him. She may not have told me tonight, but she will. The next time she makes hamburger helper and we sit at the table together. I’ll get it out of her.

Reviews

[Astoria Eve]

This story is fantastic! It's hard to master the use of direct lines after direct lines and still balance it with descriptions. I really love how you've shown that love can exist in any occupation, something modern romanticism hasn't really come to find. However, I think the title doesn't quite suit the story. Love and lust is so common in our society and it always means something like wild affairs or other sexual escapades. Maybe a title like "Bare Lips" or something. Lust is just a word used often for things I don't think you want your story to convey. All in all it definitely held my attention and I love your use of voice. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

A outstanding story. The description and the detail made poem come alive. I like the feeling of love and emotion. Woman can make a man crazy if they desire. A excellent story. Thank you. Please sent me read request. I will read ASAP.

Coyote