“Then, there was college. My first ever heartbreak. First time I dated, first time I kissed a guy. First time I’d had sex. I thought that man was sticking around forever. He supported me in my want to teach-”
“So you’ve always wanted to teach.”
“Oh yes. I’ve always loved it. Educating others. Especially kids. They’re so moldable and pliable. Those formative years are so important. I wanted to be a good role model for kids during those formidable years because I didn’t have many good role models.”
I felt like there was another story there, but I decided not to interrupt her again.
“Anyway, he was good to me. Not perfect, but he was good. And then I caught him screwing around with my roommate.”
“I’m so sorry, Emma.”
“Don’t be. It happened. I’m not the first girl it’s happened to and I certainly won’t be the last. But… that changed me. I became so guarded after that. Not letting anyone in. It took me months of crying and being angry at myself to get over him, and I decided it wasn’t worth it. Dating to try and find someone wasn’t worth those months of heartache and sleepless nights and rivers of tears in order to find some imperfect person to try and spend my time with.”
“I can see how you would come to that conclusion,” I said.
“So I threw myself into my work, right? Into my schooling. I aced all my classes, graduated with honors, and got my first job at Lawrence Day. They took me on as a new teacher, fresh out of college. And anywhere else in this country, I make a livable wage. Anywhere else, I could live just fine. But not here. Not in California. I’m drowning in student debt and living in a shoebox apartment that costs me close to four figures a month. I don’t turn the lights on unless I absolutely have to and I take cold showers to try and cut down on my electricity bill. I live paycheck to paycheck and I sometimes have to pick and choose which bills I pay and which I can afford to let hang out for a month before it does get paid. And I make a livable wage!”
My heart ached for her. So much on her plate, and by the sound of it she never talked to anyone about it.
“I’m sorry for dumping on you,” she said.
“I told you to do it. Don’t be sorry for it.”
“I just… that’s all that rattles around. I don’t have any solutions to any of it. Just problems that mount and issues that get harder to fix. And without a solution, I feel…”
“Stuck?” I asked.
Her head leaned up and her eyes temporarily connected with mine.
“Yeah,” Emma said. “Stuck is a good word for it.”
“It sounds like you want more control over your life. You know, instead of having it run by all these outside circumstances.”
“Yes. Sometimes I do feel like things are careening out of control. I think that’s why I control myself so much.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know, keep it high and tight. My hair is always in place for work and my outfits don’t have wrinkles in them. Everything has a certain place in my life and it never gets moved out of place. I just… I control all of those idiotic aspects because I need something to latch onto. Something that bends to my will instead of me to it.”
“Do you feel out of control with me?” I asked.
Emma sighed, and I braced myself for the answer.
“I do,” she said. “I feel very out of control with you. But I don’t know how that makes me feel. I haven’t figured out if that’s a good or a bad thing yet.”
Emma sat up and dragged her feet away from me. She was putting distance between us, and I didn’t like it. She scooted herself to the edge of the couch and crossed her leg over her knee, her eyes staring off like they were a little while before. I scooted towards her, slowly closing the gap between us. She shot me a side-glance and drew in a deep breath, and I reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Let go, Emma,” I said with a whisper. “Just… let it all go.”
She panned her gaze towards mine and I saw tear brewing behind her eyes. Such a beautiful woman with a good, genuine soul, and she was so bogged down with life. With bills and loneliness and a job that didn’t pay her nearly what she deserved. With a home she didn’t enjoy calling home and a life she kept so tightly controlled it was suffocating her. Her eyes flickered to my lips and I slid my hand around behind her, cupping the base of her head and massaging her scalp.
“Let go,” I said again.
And then? She did.
Emma threw herself at me, our lips crashing together. My back hit the couch as our tongues collided and I parted my legs to accept the whole of her body. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close, fisting her hair in the palm of my hand. She ground against me. Rolled her hips until my cock throbbed against her body.
I couldn’t get her close enough.