Dishonorably Discharged: A Love Story Page 8

  ***

  That weekend, I decided to bite the bullet. I had to have the talk with Justin. I showed up at his friend’s house completely uninvited. I couldn’t get a hold of him on Facebook so I had to resort to extreme measure.

  Justin’s car was parked outside. The Mustang was clean, as if he just washed it. I parked alongside the street and made my way to the front door. I took a big, deep breath and prepared to have one of the most difficult conversations of my life.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  I waited nervously at the door. Justin’s roommate opened the door. “Kate? I’m sorry, were never formally introduced.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Gabe.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m sure you heard a lot about me.” I said. He dodged my comment.

  “I’ll tell Justin you’re here. Come in.” The house was nice but it was a typical man pad. None of the furniture matched, there was mail everywhere and football was playing on the television. I took a seat on one of the couches as I waited. I could hear them whispering in the back. A few seconds later Justin emerged from his room. He was still dressed in his pajamas.

  “Kate?” I stood up to give him a hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “It’s nice to see you too,” I responded. “We need to talk. I’d prefer not to do it here.”

  “About?” he asked. He was never one for surprises so I told him what was up. “About you, me, us. This. I spoke to a lawyer…”

  I saw his heart drop. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “So you saw a lawyer. That’s fine I guess. We can talk about it but there’s really nothing to talk about. I understand what’s coming,” he said.

  “Justin, please just get dressed,” I said. He didn’t respond as he left for his room. Minutes later, he reappeared in some slacks and a wrinkled T-shirt. He looked like he just learned Santa Claus didn’t exist. It was tough to see him that disappointed.

  We headed to a small café to sit and talk. I insisted that we drive separate cars. The whole situation was awkward and somber. It almost felt like a funeral.

  Justin and I shared a small round table in the middle of the café. He bought himself a Red Bull and a Perrier water for me. This is not how I envisioned our lives going. Either way, I had to persist through it. I put the folder of documents on the table as he looked over them intently.

  “So my lawyer says that I should incite abuse,” I started. “But I don’t think that’s right.” Justin said nothing as his cold blue eyes pierced the documents.

  “No prenuptial agreement… request for spousal support?” he marked aloud as he read Mrs. Powell’s notes. “Kate, who are you right now? Is this your idea or hers?”

  “You told me to get a divorce,” I said.

  “Yes. If you wanted one,” he corrected. “I don’t even know what I’m reading. This isn’t even your handwriting,” he continued. “Cut the stuff, Kaitlyn. Is this how you feel or what you’re being told you should feel by other people?”

  “I just want to pursue my options. I can’t stay separated forever. Life has to go on,” I said. He let out a deep breath as he sat back in his chair.

  “I don’t think this is right. I don’t think this is what you want. I don’t believe it. I’m calling your bull. You don’t want to do this.”

  I put my head in my hands and massaged my temples. I felt myself getting a headache. He grabbed my hands and held them softly. His eyes locked on mine. “Kate. What do you want?” he said.

  “I just want it to be over,” I said. “All this pressure, I can’t deal with it. Every decision I make, I have to think what other people are going to say, what they want me to do.”

  “That’s why I’m asking you what do you want?” he said. “If you want me to sign these papers, walk out of here and never speak to you again, I can do that.”

  “I barely speak to you now,” I joked. “Are you going to un-friend me on Facebook too?”

  “Only if you want me to,” he said. He was dead serious. For the first time in months, I heard conviction in his voice. My mind went blank. I leaned over the table, grabbed him by the cheeks, and planted my lips firmly on his.

  He pulled back as he stared at me. The look in his eyes teetered between pain and infatuation. He drew his attention back to the papers. “So…?” he started.

  I snatched the papers from him. “This is stupid,” I said.

  7

  “That’s a three!” Gabe yelled at me and Justin. His foot was clearly on the line but I could tell he wasn’t going to let it go. Gabe was a tanned, dark haired, short, skinny Marine. He was a second-generation Columbian-Venezulean but right now, he was a cheater in a game of 21.

  Justin and I had decided to end our separation starting by doing regular activities together. He and Gabe invited me to the public basketball courts to shoot some hoops. The activity never mattered to me as long as Justin and I spent time together. His therapist advised that we hang out in group settings as we reestablished our relationship. Thus, Gabe was always the chaperone. Today he was a crooked referee as he headed to the free throw line, Spalding ball under his arm.

  Justin jokingly yelled at him. “Your right foot was on the line! The whole foot! That was NOT a three.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabe said. “Kate, what did you see?” “Your foot was on the line,” I said quickly.

  “Ya’ll are in it together. Just because that’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you have to lie for him,” Gabe said as he practiced his free throw form.

  “Husband,” I corrected.

  “If you like it, you should put a ring on it!” Gabe joked as he strutted with the ball under arm, imitating Beyoncé.

  Justin knocked the ball from under his arm. “Shoot your free throws, cheater. It doesn’t matter. You’re still going to lose.” He was right. Justin was 6’4”, I was 5’6”, and Gabe was maybe 5’8”.

  Gabe’s shot bricked. Justin got the rebound. I played defense on him. He backed me down using his backside for leverage. I grabbed him playfully but it didn’t matter. He turned and sank his shot.

  “Nineteen,” he said as the shot went in. “And foul,” he added.

  “It’s not a foul if you liked it,” I laughed.

  “Remember you said that,” Gabe said.

  “It’s definitely a foul if you touch my ass, dude,” Justin smacked back.

  “You wouldn’t be so lucky, honey,” Gabe said as he snapped his fingers, imitating the mannerisms of a feminine gay man. Justin burst out laughing uncontrollably. He tried to contain himself to shoot the free throws.

  The first shot went in. “Twenty,” he said.

  “No pressure,” I said. If he made this next shot, Justin would win the game. The shot went up. It bricked off the backboard. He smacked his hands in disappointment. I got the rebound and dribbled around as Gabe defended me.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  A loud sound burst out of nowhere. It startled us. Some kid on another court was smacking his skateboard on the pavement. I looked at Justin. His eyes had that scary blank look. He crouched down on the blacktop quickly, as if he was going for cover. He was having a flashback. He was gone.

  Gabe saw the fear in my face and immediately quit the game to tend to his friend. He grabbed Justin in a bear hug.

  “Justin, it’s ok! Snap out of it, dude! We’re playing basketball.”

  Justin’s eyes glazed over. It was that same lost look I saw during the previous incident. A few seconds later, he came back as he scanned his environment.

  “I’m good. You can let me go,” Justin said as he sat on the pavement, embarrassed. Gabe sat down next to him. I sat down on Justin’s other side. He looked out at the kids, skating and shooting hoops.

  “I’m sorry,” Justin said.

  I rubbed his back. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

  “You don’t have to explain anything dude,” Gabe added.

  “You want to get out of here?” J
ustin said to me.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “I’m going to hang out a little while,” Gabe said as he got up. I tossed him the ball. He took off towards the kids on the other court. I could hear him challenging them faintly in the distance.

  Justin and I headed to his car. We pulled off the lot without exchanging a word. About five minutes later, he broke the silence. “I don’t even know what happened…”

  “You don’t have to explain anything,” I said. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It was like I was back overseas. You don’t even understand. It was so real. The sand, the mortars, I could see and hear it all,” he said.

  “I know.” I really didn’t, but I wanted to offer my support. We headed back to his and Gabe’s place. I reeked of sweat and perspiration after the game. I badly wanted to get out of the workout clothes I had put on to meet them.

  We headed inside. Justin got himself a glass of water. “You need anything?” he said in my direction.

  “Yeah. I need to take a shower badly,” I said. “I brought some clothes with me. They’re in my car.”

  “Sure. You know where the bathroom is. Help yourself,” Justin said as he gulped down the glass.

  I ran out to my car and back inside to the bathroom. It felt like heaven to peel off my sticky, sweat-soaked clothes. I ran the shower with lukewarm water as I prepared to get in.

  “Do you have any towels?” I yelled out to Justin.

  “Yeah, they should be in there,” he said back.

  I looked back at the empty towel rack. He was wrong.

  “I wouldn’t ask you if there were some in here,” I smartly said back.

  “Ok. Let me get some from out the dryer,” he responded.

  A minute later, he knocked on the door. I was already fully undressed. He cracked the door open just enough to peek his hand and the towel through.

  “You don’t have to be like that. It’s ok. We’re married,” I reminded him.

  The door slowly opened. He looked like a child unwrapping his favorite toy on Christmas morning. He slowly scanned my body with his bright blue eyes. The smirk on his face was cunning and mysterious. He handed me the towel.

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” he said as I took the towel and placed it on the rack. I checked the water. Justin still hadn’t left.

  “What?” I said to him.

  “Nothing,” he answered.

  “Now you’re being weird,” I said as I got in the shower. The water was finally just right, not too warm, not too cold. I pulled the shower curtain and ignored Justin.

  Click. I heard the door shut as I lathered myself with body wash.

  Standing in the shower beneath pulsing jets of hot water, I closed my eyes and massaged fragrant, soapy rivulets cascading down my body. As I turned, sapphire blue eyes peered through a misty gap that widened as hands wiped a clear patch, reflecting the leering smile on a handsomely chiseled face.

  I responded by tweaking my bullet-hard nipples. “Justin, if you were a dog you’d be drooling by now.”

  “I am a dog, Kate,” he said, quickly stepping out of his T-shirt and jeans. “Woof.”

  Now it was my turn to leer. Justin’s well cut body was eye candy for any red-blooded female, but his truncheon-hard shaft rising like a fleshy flagpole was more invitation than I could resist.

  “I guess that redefines the meaning of throw the dog a bone,” I said, “or should I say, boner?”

  Laughing, Justin opened the shower door and stepped into my waiting arms. We melted into a passionate embrace, our lips locking into deep kiss. As our tongues fenced, we descended to the floor, our slippery bodies writhing in the foamy water.

  “Since I’m behaving like a dog today,” he said huskily, “then we’re going to have to do it doggy style.”

  Justin knelt behind me and pushed me onto my hands and knees, then spread my ass wide beneath the pulsing spray. Water pooled on my back and dripped down my smooth crack, trickling onto my swollen, pink lips. I gasped when I felt his probing fingers tease my engorged lips. Raising my hips, I whimpered and ground my ass against his face, my hands scrabbling to grip the slick floor.

  Now his tongue snaked into my hot, sticky crevices and hungrily lapped at my hole. Jolts of pleasure shot through my body like electrical currents. My eyes tightly shut, I began to violently thrust against him even before he roughly gripped my hips and impaled me with his rigid shaft. With a grunt, he began pumping me fast and hard. His thick meat stretched me, his manhood slapping against my thighs. I was so wet I could hear my juice slurping.

  Our cries echoed as we bucked in frenetic rhythm. My thighs trembled, my breasts slapped furiously against the tile. Already hot from the shower, I began to feel almost faint from the tension building in my core. Justin’s left hand trailed down from my hip, his fingers teasing the tight ring of my ass, which quivered expectantly at his touch.

  Slicking his fingers with the juice leaking from my hole, he inserted three deep inside me. I screamed and jerked so violently I almost knocked him off balance, but he clutched me tightly, working both my holes until the aching pressure from my impending climax finally exploded like a tsunami crashing ashore. I screamed as wave after wave of intense pleasure spasmed throughout my body. My strangled cries melded with his, his spurting shaft violently jerking inside me. Exhausted, spent, we collapsed into each other’s arms on the floor.

  Thump. Thump. I heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Gabe was back. I looked at Justin and mouthed the words to him. “Get out. Hurry up!”

  “YOOOO!” Gabe yelled from the living room. Justin shrugged.

  “Yoooo!” he yelled back.

  “Go. Go. Go,” I mouthed to him. He threw on his shorts and popped out of the bathroom.

  “What’s up?” he said to Gabe.

  “Where’s Kate?” Gabe asked in response.

  “She’s changing,” Justin answered. I got myself together and came out of the bathroom a few minutes later.

  “Somebody had sex baby! Let’s talk about you and me!” Gabe sang as he mocked the 90’s song.

  “No we didn’t,” I said. “And if we did, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Married couples don’t have sex. You know that,” Justin said, laughing.

  “I had sex once,” Gabe said. “You two should try it. It’s pretty awesome,” he joked. We all laughed.