Prelude to a Cook-Off: Part 2

I was taken aback by The Flirt’s appearance on my doorstep. Knowing what he wanted, I slowly unlatched the door and opened it a crack.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He smirked down at me, puffing away. “I was in the neighborhood, saw your light was still on, so I decided to stop by to see what you were doing.”

He had been Downtown drinking with friends. I regarded him wryly. “I was in bed – about to go to sleep.”

“Going to sleep ...”

“Yeah.” There was no doubt as to what was on his mind. “You came by for a booty call, huh?”

“No,” he said. “Sure, I hoped, but I just came by to see how you were.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about things, and I’ve decided that … I’m a real idiot.”

He chuckled, “We’re all idiots.”

I smiled and looked down. “Yeah, well that’s okay for you, but I’m supposed to be better than all you peons.”

“Oh, really,” he laughed.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to be perfect.”

He continued smirking at me as he finished his cigarette. I continued eyeing him warily.

“I’ll pick that up later,” he said as he flicked the butt into the yard. I nodded while making a mental note of where it landed. I would be the one picking it up. “Well, are you going to make me leave or let me come in?”

I hesitated, knowing his intentions, but felt secure in my own sober resolve. I let him in. He immediately went to the restroom. I curled up on the couch to finish searching for that verse in Job. When he eventually joined me at the other end of the couch, I set it aside and explained what I was doing. I told him how foolish I felt … how proud I’d been. He nodded as though he understood. He said he didn’t know how it might have helped him if he’d had someone to talk to years ago. I reached over to lightly grasp the fingers of his resting outstretched hand. He looked as if he could fall asleep where he sat.

“Do you really not want to …,” he asked.

I laid my cheek against the couch as I looked at him and said, “No, I really don’t.”

“I’ll probably be glad that you didn’t.”

I smiled. “Do you want to sleep in the guest room?”

“Well, it’s better than the couch.”

I followed him to make certain he didn’t need anything, and then returned to my own bed. I laid there thinking about him lying so close in that other room. Fortunately, it was across the house, so we couldn’t hear each other. I felt the lure of going to him, but was resolved to stay. I would soon fall asleep and all would be okay. I relaxed, pleased with myself for resisting temptation.

Then I heard footsteps coming through my kitchen. His silhouette soon appeared at my bedroom door. I silently chastised myself for leaving it open like an invitation, while also feeling thrilled by his boldness. I didn’t move or speak. Fully clothed, he laid down beside me on top of the covers. I regarded him with amusement. He even still wore his baseball cap. I laughed at him, removing it and throwing it across the room. We didn’t speak. Gert lay between us like a shield.

“I guess I should leave,” he said. I knew that he should, but didn’t want him to. I moved closer, putting Gert on the other side of me. If a dog can be nonplussed, I think she was.

I moved to the crook of his shoulder, pulling his other arm around my waist. He used this opportunity to try groping me, but I kept his hand away, holding it securely against my side. I can’t remember any words we spoke. Eventually, he moved to kiss me, and I wanted to be kissed. The recesses of my mind imagined the appropriateness of the situation, given that I would face the SoHB the next day. My ego needed the boost.

We embraced and kissed deeper. I wondered if I would be able to maintain my boundaries. I knew, but didn’t wish to admit, that I couldn’t. I allowed him liberties, but I wished to prevent carrying it as far as before. He broke through my resistance with gentle pleas and persistence. I allowed things to progress to the same point they had last time. It was more than I wanted, but I still felt secure. But, as always, he pushed for more. My feeling of security evaporated. I told him I was uncomfortable. He tried pleading through my fears with words of, “Trust me. I wouldn’t do that to you,” but didn’t back off. Eventually he made a move I couldn’t tolerate, presuming I would go along despite my history of protests against it. I quickly pulled away, putting an end to our tryst.

“That’s it,” I said. “I’m done.”

“That’s it? Just like that?” he asked.

“Yup.” I pulled the cover over me and laid there a minute. Then, I laid my head on his stomach, looking into his half-closed eyes as I said, “You just don’t get it, Flirt.”

“No, I don’t,” he replied.

I paused as I weighed my words. “I want more … I mean, in general.”

He nodded. “Well, we all want more,” he said.

I briefly tried explaining why what he wanted wasn’t acceptable. I don’t know if he fully heard me. Within a couple of minutes his breathing changed to that of sleep. I thought to sleep myself, but was too uncomfortable lying there with him like that. I woke him to make him right himself. Next thing I knew, he was preparing to leave. I told him he didn’t have to leave; I wasn’t kicking him out. He said he knew, but was going to go. I didn’t know what to say to him. He seemed in a funk. I didn’t know if I said something to bruise his ego, if he felt guilt toward his Kentucky girl, or if he was simply disappointed with my ending things so abruptly. Several minutes after he left, I thought to call and check on what bothered him, but decided against it. I didn’t need to be in everyone’s face knowing everything they’re thinking all the time. I went back to bed with Gert and slept like the dead.