Chapter 26

I awoke early. Sherri and I had rolled apart in the night and somehow she'd ended up with all the covers. I tugged at the edge of the blanket, but it was twisted around her and it looked like I'd have to wake her to get them straightened out. Despite my recent assertiveness, that seemed like more than was called for. I could always get another blanket out of the closet, after all.

I carefully slipped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. On the way back, I glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning; not as early as I'd thought. I would have been getting up about now to cook, if Sherri hadn't arrived early.

I quickly dismissed the idea of starting to cook anyway. The banging would awaken her, and she needed the sleep. Once again, I didn't think she was telling me everything, but in this case I could let it slide. Whatever else had happened with her client could remain between them.

But still ... to have insisted when he knew. True, he might not have known why she wouldn't do incest fantasies, but even then...

I snorted. I could hardly condemn him, could I? After all, Sharon had asked me not to push beyond photos, and hadn't I done that? Blatantly, when I yelled at her in the bedroom. Subtly, before that. I'd been selfish, extremely selfish.

Maybe the old man had been right. Young people were always selfish.

I finished in the bathroom and slipped into my bedroom. Sherri still slumbered in the living room, undisturbed by the noise I'd made so far. I wanted to take a walk, but it was too cold, and besides, I didn't want Sherri to wake up to an empty apartment. Nonetheless, I slipped on some sweats, as quietly as I could. Maybe I could read or get on the computer while I waited for her to stir. Of course, that could be a while. She'd certainly had a hectic night.

I mulled over her story as I settled into my chair in front of my computer. Her client had certainly screwed up, and I suspected that, because he was just a client, he was through. If he'd been a friend or a lover, Sherri might be more willing to forgive him. If he was truly remorseful.

At least I hoped so, for it gave me hope for my own situation. If I truly apologized to Tina and Sharon, maybe things would be okay. Maybe.

But I couldn't count on it, and I'd probably only get one shot. I sighed. It looked like another exercise in picking my words carefully. Maybe this time, I could do it for the right reasons.

I started thinking about what the right words might be, and then I realized that I'd better write them down. I'd probably get too nervous and start fumbling if I tried to do them in person or over the phone. Not that either woman would talk to me on the phone anyway.

And if I was going to write them down, I should probably have someone read them over first. I snorted, thinking of Sherri in the next room. Wasn't that one of the things I wanted from her?

I pushed away from the computer, pulled out some paper, and started writing.

An unknown time later, the sound of the toilet flushing disturbed me from my trance. My brain was wrapped around a particularly challenging clause, so I decided to finish it before going to check on Sherri. In the end, I didn't have to, as she knocked quietly on the bedroom door just as I completed the first letter.

"Come in," I called.

Sherri opened the door and stuck her head in. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I woke up early, and decided to work on my apology letters while you slept."

"Oh. Can I see?"

"I was hoping you would."

I pushed back from the desk as she came in. She was nude, which I was beginning to suspect was her normal state of dress. I let my eyes linger as she approached and leaned over my shoulder to read. I blinked and my eyes followed hers. Having been so wrapped up in choosing my words sentence by sentence, I wasn't sure if it held together. I decided to read along.

Dear Tina,

I'm sorry.

You are an incredible woman and you deserve better than how I've treated you. I'm ashamed of myself.

When we first started dating, I could only see your age and your roots in Arizona—a state I was trying to flee. But you're smart, beautiful, fun, and incredibly grounded. When I step back and truly look, I see an incredible woman who is more than I ever deserved. Certainly you are more than I deserve now.

I screwed up badly. I didn't talk to you enough and I didn't share my heart. I can only say that I was afraid, and I let that fear dominate my decisions. I should have told you about the pictures earlier. I should have told you about my desires and frustrations with Sharon. I should have told you about my feelings for you.

For you were right. Our love would have been enough to get through things, if I'd chosen love instead of fear, frustration, and anger.

I'm sorry.

Joe

"You've used the word 'incredible' three times in the first two paragraphs," Sherri said, "and you should cut the last sentence of the second paragraph. It sounds too whiny."

"Which one?" I said, leaning forward.

"'Certainly you are more than I deserve now.' That's for her to decide. Besides, if she is more than you deserve, why should she get back together with you?"

"Huh. I see your point."

"You also might try 'get us through' rather than 'get through things.' It's more poetic."

I snorted softly. "Poetry, Shakespeare, the Bible. You are a constant surprise."

She grinned. "I try."

"Well," I said, "speaking of surprises, how hungry are you?"

"A little. But not much."

I nodded. "I'd better get cooking before you do get hungry." I stood up. "You're welcome to hang out in the kitchen while I cook."

She nodded and followed me into the other room.

"So when did you study Shakespeare?" I asked as I started getting out pans and mixing bowls and ingredients.

"In college," she said. "I had this great professor."

"Really? Me, too."

We swapped college stories while I whisked eggs and slowly melted butter for the asparagus and mushrooms. Sherri's eyes lit up when I retrieved the crab meat from the fridge.

"That's real crab?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said. "Got to earn my counseling time."

Sherri raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything.

"Look," I said, "I know that you spent all that time with me for free because you thought I was suicidal. And I know you might not have come over here this morning if you hadn't had to be out of your apartment anyway."

She pursed her lips, her eyes amused.

"So," I continued, "I figure that if you really like breakfast, you might come back again."

"I might come back anyway."

I raised my eyebrows, but didn't have a chance to study her face because the pan on the stove needed my attention.

"Well, I have to admit I'm curious," she said. "About how things are going to come out. It's hard to not be, having listened this long."

"I'm curious, too." I scooped the asparagus out of the pan and started the eggs. I wasn't confident I'd be able to flip the omelet, but if some crab leaked out, it wouldn't be a problem. Meanwhile, I needed to get the bacon started...

"Wait a minute," I said, "you might come back even without me cooking?"

"Well, your cooking does help," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But it also makes me curious about the woman who taught you."

"You'd like her," I said. "She's got a good head on her shoulders."

"I hope so."

"So," I said, as the bacon sizzled, "I can pay you by feeding you breakfast?"

"Mmm. You can fix me breakfast," she said, "but just when it's convenient for me to come over."

"Well, of course. Although I hope I can ask from time to time."

"You can, if you're willing to accept 'no' if I'm busy. That's the difference between being paid and doing it for free. If it's when I want, it's a gift, but if it's on demand, you'll have to pay me."

I nodded. "I think I get it." I paused to flip the eggs, and marveled quietly that I succeeded in not scattering them across the stove. "But then ... how do I be assertive with you? If we're only getting together on your schedule?"

"We've always gotten together on my schedule. If you want something, just ask. If I'm not free when you want, call the agency."

I nodded. "Well, what I want right now is for you to take a seat at the table."

"With pleasure."

I plated the omelets, bacon, muffins, and added some sliced kiwi. Sherri waited patiently while I quickly set the table and then joined her.

"Bon appétit," I said, as I slid into my own chair.

Sherri smiled and then took a bite. She almost glowed as she chewed. After she'd swallowed, she dabbed the corners of her mouth.

"This is wonderful," she said. "I'm glad I accepted."

"You're welcome."

"So," she said, between bites, "you've written a letter for Tina. Then what?"

"I send it," I said. "Then I wait. It'll be at least two weeks before I can expect a reply, but later wouldn't surprise me either."

"Assuming you get one at all."

"Yeah. Assuming I get one." I frowned. I didn't like that thought, but I had to accept that.

"And what about Sharon?"

I paused, chewing my food slowly while I thought. "I'll write her, too. I'm just not as sure what I'll say."

"What do you want to say?"

"I really don't know," I said with a frown. "It's not a case of figuring out the words, because I'm not even sure of what I want."

"Did you make a list?"

"Not formally," I said. "I mean, I want our friendship back. I want to be able to talk to her on the phone and hang out together. I want to hear how her life is and I want to tell her about mine. But I also want to, well, fuck really is the right word. I'm too angry at her for it to be 'making love' or anything like that. I just want to bend her over and fuck her hard."

Sherri's eyes grew cold.

"Consensually," I hastened to add. "I don't actually want to hurt her. I'm just so ... so..."

"Angry?"

I nodded. "And frustrated." I bit my lip. "I mean, I know I'm not innocent, but she was the one that started the photos, and she was the one that blew me. It's not all my fault!"

"It's okay to get mad," Sherri said. "I won't mind."

I stared at her.

"It'll be good for you," she said, before taking another sip of coffee.

I swallowed hard, and then realized she was right. I'd bottled things up too long, and they'd finally blown at the worst possible moment: when Tina was in the other room. Slowly, I nodded.

"Well," I said. "I'm pissed that she tells me to move on, but stays hung up on Allen. I'm pissed that she keeps saying she wants a 'friends with benefits' like with that guy from Boston, but keeps blowing me off when I suggest it. I'm pissed that she doesn't apologize to me. I'm pissed that it's okay for her to get off on my stories, but it's not okay for me to get off over her posing."

I had to pause to catch me breath. Sherri met my eyes, not flinching. That stoked the fire even more.

"And her ideas on what was okay and what wasn't. She knew I was dating Tina last year, but bought me those books! And then ... and then she blames me, when she was the one who sucked my cock! I didn't make her. I didn't manipulate her. She did it, and she blames me."

I was hyperventilating, and on the edge of yelling. Sherri's lips were pursed into a small, knowing smile. It was reassuring, almost approving.

"And, goddammit," I continued, "she won't talk to me. She wants to pretend it never happened when it did. And it does change things."

"So what would you say to her, if she were here now?"

"I'd tell her that I'd fucked things up with Tina because of her. I'd tell her that she should have dated me, despite everything that happened to her growing up. Our friendship is just as damaged without us fucking as it would have been if we had."

"Are you sure?"

I froze for a second, and started to think of all the factors that might influence that. Then I caught myself. Better to just tell Sherri what I felt than analyze it to death.

"No," I said, "I'm not sure. But in my gut ... in my gut, I think we were already across that line. Actually going all the way wouldn't have made much difference to the friendship, even though it would have made a helluva difference to me. And to Tina."

Sherri raised an eyebrow.

"I think—and I'm figuring this out on the fly—I think Tina wouldn't have minded if Sharon and I had had sex before Tina and I started dating, but since it was still unresolved..." I sighed. "I know we wouldn't have had the blow up in the bedroom that night, at least."

She nodded. "So it sounds like you do know what you say to her."

I snorted. "Yeah, but it's not polite."

"Is it the truth?"

"Yeah."

"Then you can find a way to make it polite."

"Well, part of the truth is that I still want to fuck her. I still want to bend her over and pound into her from behind. I'm not sure a polite way to say that exists."

Sherri grinned. "Maybe not."

"And that's getting in the way," I said. "I'm not sure our friendship will survive if I say what really needs to be said, but I know I won't get to have sex with her if I do."

"So let go of wanting to have sex with her."

I snorted. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?"

"It's just hard to get out of my head."

Sherri tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

"It just is," I said. "I keep having fantasies about taking her from behind while she's bent over the couch. I know some of it is anger and some of it is the pent-up desire, but it's there."

Sherri bit her lip and then slowly nodded.

"The couch in the living room?"

"Yeah."

She stood up, leaving her half-eaten breakfast to cool. "C'mon," she said, walking toward the living room.

A bit surprised, I pushed myself away from the table and followed. When I arrived in the other room, Sherri was standing next to the couch, bent over with her hands on the arm. Her pose thrust her naked ass out, stirring my appreciation.

"You want her bent over like this?" she asked, as she eased herself forward until her stomach was on the arm of the couch.

"Well, yeah."

"So get a condom."

"What?" My chin almost hit the floor at the same time my cock hardened.

"Get a condom. Pretend I'm Sharon." She turned to look at me and switched to a soprano semi-falsetto. "Oh, Joe, I'm so ... so turned on from posing for all those pictures. I know I said we should just be friends, but ... but right now ... I just need you."

I couldn't help chuckling.

"Our names aren't that far apart," she said. "Call me Sharon instead of Sherri. Do to me what you want to do to her. Get it out of your system." She wiggled her butt for emphasis.

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. However, my cock throbbed. I'd have to be a complete fool to over-analyze this.

"C'mon, Joe. This offer closes in two minutes."

I snorted. I did want to fuck her. "I'll be back."

I dashed to the bedroom and found my box of condoms. I shed my sweats on the way back. Sherri grinned when she saw me, through rather that was in appreciation of my speedy return or at the way my erection bounced as I moved across the room, I couldn't say. I halted behind her and stroked myself a couple of times to get myself harder before rolling the condom on.

"Oh, Joe," Sherri said in her mock-falsetto, "I've gotten so turned on taking pictures, that I just can't wait anymore."

"Damn right," I growled. I lined my cock up with her slit and nestled the head just inside her lips.

"Ooh, I'm so glad we're friends who can do this." Her voice, even with the false tone, wasn't anywhere close to Sharon's, but it didn't matter. The view was so similar—yet another woman with long dark hair in my life, I realized, that from behind I could get into it.

"Yeah, we're friends, all right," I said. "Friends with real benefits."

I pushed forward and buried my cock inside her. Sherri let out a slow gasp and then clamped down on my shaft, causing me to gasp in return.

"Take me, Joe."

"I'll take you," I said gruffly. I held her hips as I pulled out, until I almost slipped out of her entirely, and then I slammed back in. Sherri's body shook under the force.

"Harder," she said.

With a grunt, I plunged into her again.

"Harder!"

I pulled back and thrust again. I started pounding into her, as fast as I could manage without slipping out. I actually did pull too far back once, but Sherri helped guide me back in. The whole time, she cried either 'harder' or 'fuck me!'.

I closed my eyes. Oh, I wanted to do this to Sharon, to have her bent over and be fucking her like this. No more teasing. No more guessing and wondering. Just raw and primal.

"Fuck me, Joe!"

My mind flashed to the images of Sharon, turned away posing for photos, her ass thrust out. Sherri clamped down again on my cock, increasing the friction then too. A panoply of images of Sharon flashed through my mind as the pressure in my balls built up. Her under the shower. Her in her garter belt. Her with my cock in her mouth.

With a groan, I exploded. Bolts of pleasure shot through my body, and I let out a long moan. My cock kept spurting, far more than I was used to, with Sherri seeming to milk every drop out of me. Then my legs went rubbery, and I sagged, trying not to collapse. It was a losing battle and I slowly sank onto the carpet, still gasping for breath.

Sherri turned and slid onto the floor next to me. "Feel better?" she asked.

I nodded, not quite ready for words. When I could breathe again, I pointed to the condom, now started to slide off my shrinking penis. "Let me go clean this up."

Sherri smirked but didn't say anything. I lurched to my feet and stumbled to the bathroom, where I disposed of the rubber and washed myself off.

As I finished up, I glanced in the mirror. I still looked wild-eyed. Had I really just done that? Fucked a women violently, out of anger?

A little more unsettled, I returned to the living room. Sherri had pulled herself up onto the couch, sitting against the far arm. She smiled at me.

"So, did that help?" she asked.

I sank onto the cushions next to her. "I ... I don't know. It was pretty incredible. And a little surreal." I met her eyes.

"That's not me," I said.

"It was you. I was there. I felt you."