CW: DD/lg endearments Image from Pixabay
The Choice Part 1
They knew about each other. They’d both known for a while now. He’d tried to keep their existence separated from the other. Secret. Secure. Yet it had proved impossible. So, he told them both a few days earlier.
He played the odds and determined that he had nothing to lose. After all he was still ‘single’ in the truest sense. Good job, nice car, great city centre apartment. His circle of friends was small but tight. He didn’t easily welcome unknowns into his sanctum, his past had made sure of that. He had burned and been burnt too many times. He laughed off the comments about his inability to ‘settle’. What did they know about him anyway?
So he found himself here, torn. Two women. Very different. Both incredible in their own ways and he knew he was growing into harder relationships with each. He also knew it was unsustainable. Something would have to give. His days of flitting from one girl to another were a memory and it was too difficult to manage So he told them. Both.
Tonight he was with Angela. Blonde. Slim. They were always slim. She had a liking for demure floral dresses and body shop perfumes. Her skin was like porcelain, a quintessential rose. Considerably younger than him, but she had an air of the executive about her, the unmistakable upper class charm. He was, if he admitted it, in awe of this and her upbringing. She spoke quietly, biting each consonant as she did.
In her own way she quietly demanded attention. And he provided that.Tonight he wore a tight T-shirt, & skin tight jeans. He’d arrived early at her house, in the suburbs. She was clearly monied.
She wore a cream calf length dress that swooshed a little as she walked. It was imprinted with small vine and lilac flora. The dress was cinched at the waist with a wide belt that accentuated her figure. Cream heels and dark nylons completed the look. Her hair was scraped back from her fringe and pulled into a plaited tail. She had made an effort and he noticed.
They had made love many times and she, he assessed, was naive. Although, when he had suggested they all ‘met’ she hadn’t baulked. They ate the Thai meal she had prepared them. She sipped her Chablis whilst he drank a few cold Cobra beers. Soft music played through the kitchen speaker. Afterward she placed the crockery into the basin. He followed her watching as her skirt swayed pendulously.
She stood next to the work surface, pressing her stomach against the hard black granite. She could feel it hard against her hips. She knew he was behind her. She placed her palms across the cold stone, raising one foot slightly from the floor, bending her knee and tapping her toe onto the tiling.
He neared. She bent forward a little. She had been naive, she knew this. But now she had to fight. She wanted him and him only. She needed him. He. Was. Hers.