"It's an office building. One day, I'm going to build it and have it as my office."
"That's cool. You can see my drawings sometime too. I have a pool; you can come and swim, and we can share our drawings.”
"I love swimming. Maybe my mom will let me come over tomorrow."
"Yes, but you have to keep your hands to yourself. Or else I'll punch you again."
A gasp comes from the doorway, causing us to turn our heads toward the sound. "Camille! What do you mean again?!" my mom shrieks and apologizes to a laughing Lydia for my behavior.
"Oh, Mel, kids will be kids. I'm sure Dean's smart mouth provoked a punch," Lydia says, giving me a wink.
"Oh, it sure did," I say smugly, standing from the chair and walking over to my mom. "Dean and I are friends now. He's going to come swimming tomorrow if that's okay with you, Miss Lydia." Mom joins in on her laughter, shaking her head.
"That's fine, sweetie. I'm glad Dean has made a friend already."
"Well, we're still in the trial period, so we'll see how it goes if he can behave." Mom's face turns red with embarrassment.
"Let's go, sweetie. You can play some more tomorrow."
"Thank you for having us over, Miss Lydia. It was nice to meet you." I hug her, looking at Dean once more before following Mom down the stairs.
If he doesn't pull my hair again, I foresee Dean becoming my best friend forever.
FOUR
NOW
Dean
My mind has been a fucked-up mess since I saw Camille again this past weekend. It's been eleven years since I looked into her captivating emerald eyes, yet it feels as if no time has passed at all.
I knew sooner or later I'd see her again, but I was hoping for the latter. I hadn't prepared myself to see her Friday night. And I sure as fuck didn't expect her and Karina to be friends.
What the fuck is that about?
My wife is friends with the first woman I ever loved.
I'm a bastard for lying to Karina. She had asked me on the ride home if there was more to the “childhood friends” story. I lied to her face and painfully told her that Camille was just the girl next door and never meant anything to me. The truth is, she is so much more than just the girl next door. But Karina can never know. She's already insecure and jealous enough, and I can't push her further. I know her insecurity is my fault. If I were a better husband, she'd have no need to feel insecure about anything. But I'm not a good husband. And I've been exceedingly awful this weekend after seeing Camille.
Karina tried to have sex as soon as we got home that night. She said she was ovulating, and it was necessary, but I couldn't bring myself to fuck my wife while I had another woman on my mind.
Not when all I could think about was how that red satin dress clung to every curve of Camille's luscious body. Not when I could still remember what it felt like to run my tongue across every single inch of her sun-kissed silky skin. The memory of Camille, my sweet Camille, writhing beneath me, has my fucking traitorous cock hard.
Beside me in bed, Karina thinks my hard cock is for her. I'm not going to tell her otherwise, nor will I do anything about it.
It wouldn't be right to give her something not meant for her.
It's not right that I'm thinking of another woman while my wife is innocently lying beside me.
"Mmm. Someone is in the mood this morning." Karina wiggles her ass against my cock while in the spooning position we’re in. Before I can respond, she pushes me onto my back and climbs on top of me, straddling me and kissing my neck in the delicious way she always does. "Let's brush our teeth and continue this." She climbs off me, leaving me with a raging boner like I'm a fucking teenager again.
Throwing the covers off myself, I sigh, looking at the tent in my boxers.
Fuck. I'm painfully hard.
Like the good husband I wish I could be, I follow Karina into the bathroom and stand beside her at the sink while we brush our teeth together. The second she spits out the toothpaste, I'm on her like a starved man.
Like a bad husband, I fuck my wife from behind against the bathroom counter with thoughts of another woman playing in my head. I have to close my eyes while I'm inside her so that I don't see my reflection in the mirror. I feel bad enough as it is.