Karen knew where Martin was headed. Finally she released his hands. One immediately shot up to her breasts; the other snaked between her legs and headed toward her clit.
Whore, she thought of herself. You’d do this just to delay being alone?
Martin’s hands trembled; Frank’s never had. She could hear Martin catch his breath, then inhale deeply. Frank would never have been so obvious, so transparent.
Martin found her clit.
Yet… She and Martin had been friends, good friends. Having sex with him was a little shallow, perhaps. But why not?
What a mixture of feelings. She remembered the first time with Martin, like two giggling kids who’d just discovered a whole new dimension to playing doctor. But then she remembered the first time with Frank. The strength of his voice. The passion in his hands. Crying when she came. Looking deep into Frank’s eyes and thinking she could see infinity.
Sex with Frank made sex with Martin a shallow joke. But sex with Frank had a power that was dangerous and made her feel vulnerable, like some highly addictive drug. Sex with Martin was even a little bit funny, something that she had to admit she could feel a bit smug and aloof about. It was the absolute, the ultimate, in safe sex.
Karen moaned as Martin got her on the floor and started taking both of their clothes off.
Vanilla latte kisses. Karen smiled; she’d almost forgotten. Playful, she rumpled his hair. He smiled, but then took the opening her raised arm gave him to bury his face in her breasts, so he didn’t see her smile turn into a wince of pain. She’d seen Frank do that when she caught him in bed with her forever-lost friend Marie.
Martin got his pants off. He was beautiful; Karen had to give him that. But the real beauty about being with him? Karen tested herself, envisioning walking in on Martin in bed with her ex-friend Marie. The real beauty about being with him was that she could walk in on him in bed with Marie, six orangutans, and the odd kangaroo. Really and truly she wouldn’t care. For that alone Karen grabbed his face and gave him a kiss that threatened to remove his tongue.
Was that Martin’s long, almost agonized groan? But he was stopping and pulling away, giving the front door a sharp look.
Greedy now, Karen knew where to touch him to make him forget about the front door, the back door, or any other kind of door.
There was a sharp thud at the front door.
Martin, though naked, leapt to his feet.
Another even sharper thud.
Karen pulled some clothing over herself without thinking.
The front door swung open and hit the wall so hard Karen could feel the reverberations in her bones. But she didn’t turn toward it, because she was transfixed by the look of sheer, unadulterated terror on Martin’s face.
“Frank?” Martin choked out.
Her Frank, thought Karen. No, that was impossible. Martin never met her Frank.
Then she heard a voice there was no mistaking, its roar belying its eloquent anguish: “Karen, how could you?”
