The Other Other Woman by Mallory Lockhart

like he was worshipping my body, pressing his fingers into all my trigger points and using his entire body weight to roll up my back. As he lowered his hands down and caressed each of my buttcheeks, he spoke.
    “So. Let’s think outside the proverbial box for a moment, shall we?” he said innocently. I’m no fool. I knew exactly what he was going to say before he even said it. He wanted my ass. Literally. This was not a topic up for discussion, at least not this soon in our relationship. I never had any intention of doing that with anyone at any time. If I was going to, he would be the one, because I trusted him and I knew he would never hurt me. But I still felt like that was an act reserved for a more committed relationship, like after being married 50 years or so.
    “Um, no, you get right back inside that box, mister!” I exclaimed.
    “Never?”
    “Not in a box, not with a fox.”
    He laughed and said, “Okay, understood. It’s not a big deal, just something I’ve always wanted to try, that’s all.”
    “I hear they make medications for that problem.”
    “Hahaha very funny. But listen, I just want you to know, anything you want to try, I’m up for it. You just let me know and we’ll make it happen, okay?”
    “Thank you, I will take that under advisement.”
    He continued molding and manipulating my muscles, slowly turning me into a big bowl of jelly. Then he had the audacity to ask me to give him one next.
    “What? That’s hardly fair!” I cried. “You never said we were taking turns!” Normally I would have jumped at the chance to put my hands on him for any reason at all, but I was so incredibly tired and relaxed now after all of the day’s events. I begrudgingly sat on him. That was the closest I had actually been to his backside, so I playfully slapped his ass and giggled at how hairy he was. I started to rub him, and I swear I gave it a good honest effort, but I was completely useless by that point. After just a few pathetic passes over his shoulders, I gave up and spread out right on top of him, smooching him under his ear and begging for forgiveness.
    “Oh come ON. Where’s the love, Mal?”
    “But baby,” I said sweetly, “you did this to me. It’s not my fault that your gorgeous penis rendered me incapacitated.”
    “Oh. My. God…” he sighed, trying not to laugh. He threw me a sideways glance, “Fine. But I’m taking a rain check.”
    It was late afternoon and we had to start packing up and getting ready to go. We both rinsed off in the shower. Afterwards, I broke out the ironing board because if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s to be wrinkled. He seemed amused that I ironed both my T-shirt and skirt before I was going anywhere out in public. He packed up his suitcase and garment bags and put them by the door and I could already feel my heart starting to break. When would I see him again? Would I ever see him again? He was very quiet and acting very fidgety. Maybe he was nervous about getting home late or just not very good with goodbyes, but it only added to my anxiety. The thought crossed my mind, What if this was just a one-time fling for him? But then I reminded myself, Don’t be stupid. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for over a year now. He’s not going to do that .
    It was time. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his arms. We must have kissed each other a thousand times. I was only barely able to fight back tears as he held me close to him. I didn’t want to say goodbye to him; not knowing when I would see him again was physically painful. I only felt a little better when he promised he’d call me from the road, so I gave him one last kiss, grabbed my purse and headed out the door. We couldn’t leave together; that wouldn’t look right.
    I collected my children from daycare and went home and cried in the bathroom. What the hell was I thinking getting into this? He lived six hours away. With his wife. Just as he promised, he called me about