Discarding Lily

I.

Lily was my first real girlfriend. A year out of high school and already a college dropout, it's fair to describe me as aimless. Working as a courtesy clerk for a grocery store, I wasn't what anyone considered a catch. Still, Lily took a chance on me.

She came shopping with her mother every week. Just seeing her made my miserable job a little less so for a while. Lily was a pretty girl, maybe not a beauty, but her smile was genuine, and my heart leaped whenever she came through those sliding glass doors.

Too shy to approach her outright, I always tried to be the clerk to carry her groceries out to their car. I never could find the words to start a conversation, but I was always extra polite to her mom.

Then one day, an unplanned dose of courage motivated me to chase after her. Stumbling and breathless, I finally asked for her number. She gave me one of those beautiful, shy smiles and nodded. I forgot to bring a piece of paper with me. Or a pen. She borrowed one from her mom and wrote her number on my hand.

For any other young lady, our first date would have been our last. I wanted to take her to a laser light show, but I misread the location, and we ended up walking all over a dark and empty campus late at night. But we talked and laughed for an hour before giving up and getting a burger at McD's.

You might think this embarrassing date would end early, but we parked outside the fence of the local drive-in. We watched the movie, listening to the sound through the tinny speakers that weren't in use. Things went well for the rest of the night. Really well.

Lily was wise beyond her years and setup a great schedule where we went out on Fridays, but Saturdays were for hanging out with our friends. Then we started going out during the week, and then we saw each other every night except Saturday.

As a poor kid making chump change at my job, most dates involved some driving around in my old truck, grabbing a soda, and finding somewhere private to park and make out. And we did a lot of making out.

I think it's fair to say that I became quite experienced at cunnilingus and she mastered fellatio. In fact, I stole a paperback copy ofThe G Spot and Other Recent Discoveries About Human Sexuality, from the book section of my work. I studied it harder than I ever studied anything in school.

It might not be considered settled science, but when I used the techniques described in the book on Lily, she experienced an orgasm so strong and long lasting, her legs didn't stop shaking for several minutes. I had to hold her to calm her down. Honest, no bullshit.

She only had one rule, no penetration. I mean it when I say only one rule. I licked, suckled, probed, and fingered every inch of her body. And she pretty much did the same for me. A lot of my fetishization of anal play stems from this era.

But, as a devout Catholic girl, she wanted to be a virgin when she got married, and she stuck to her guns on that. Nothing I said or did broke through her willpower on that subject. I could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes how much she wanted to have sex. But she stood firm.

And that one thing she denied me was enough for me to throw away an otherwise amazing, three-year relationship.

II.

One of my high school friends pledged a fraternity while I was on an unforced academic hiatus. He wanted me to join, so we went to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, and he regaled me with stories. There were great parties, scholastic support from his fraternity brothers, and the camaraderie. Oh yeah, also the girls. Sorority girls and goddamn independents (GDI's), out from under the thumbs of their protective parents, exploring their newly liberated freedoms.

My friend, like me, was also a high school loser with the ladies (and most other things as well). But here he was painting a vivid picture of drinking, dancing, and scoring with beautiful young ladies at the parties. Knowing his history, I was skeptical. But he swore it was true.

I was captivated.

To make a long story short, I quit my job, re-enrolled and attended all the pledge week parties. Everything he said was true. The best parties, beautiful young women, endless kegs of beer, and dancing. I met a bunch of great new friends and pledged as soon as they started offering pins.

But I didn't get laid because I had Lily.

Lily had no interest in going to college at that time. In fact, whenever I pressed her on it, she got very defensive. She was awkward and uncomfortable around any of my pledge brothers. And honestly, as pretty as she was, she was a tier below most of the sorority girls and GDI's.

I took her to a winter-themed party, and she hated every second of it. We left early and, I will admit, I was a real jerk to her about it. Nevertheless, we got through it.

However, the demands of pledging a fraternity didn't leave a lot of free, off-campus time. Study halls, cleaning the fraternity house, weekend projects, intramural sports, pledge meetings, and required volunteering hours filled the days. And parties filled the nights. So, Lily and I went from being together most nights to only going out once or twice a week.

Another thing changed. Sometime in the previous few months she started talking about getting married. We were in the wedding party of a friend of hers and the topic never went away. Her family started talking about what we would be doing in the future. The presumption of marriage was in the air.

Unfortunately for Lily, for the first time in my life, I found myself being pursued by a few of the girls that came to our parties. Very pretty girls. Young girls who weren't shy about who and what they wanted.

An astute observer will have discerned how this story was trending. It became easier to blow her off for more interesting activities and social gatherings. And when we did get together, I was only interested in getting my dick sucked and finger-fucking her in the ass while I lapped at her pussy.

I was using her while she was desperately doing what she could to save our relationship.

Once, I finagled getting her into bed at my friend's house. I went full court press on her to at least let me fuck her in the ass. I made all the arguments about her still being a virgin. I wheedled, negotiated, and begged. She stood firm.

She promised, as soon as we were married, we would do anal as often as I wanted. I still got my dick sucked and I frigged her in the ass until I got bored, but inside I knew it was over.

This next part is hard to admit, but this is the kind of bastard I was. Her birthday was the next week. I showed up to take her out without a gift. I took her out on the mesa to get my dick sucked and to plunge my tongue and fingers into every hole she had.

Then we went back to her house, and I told her that we were breaking up.

I left her standing in her driveway, confused and crying. She stood in the pale-yellow light of a sodium streetlamp, mascara streaming down her pretty, but not pretty enough, freckled face. I drove off, cold-hearted, ready for better things.

Like a lot of guys, looking back over my life, I must admit to doing more than my share of shitty things to people. But nothing I've ever done has eclipsed the sheer callous, selfish, cruel evil of the way I discarded Lily that night.

III.

Freedom, sweet freedom. No longer shackled to my former girlfriend, I was free to explore my options. Sampling from a variety of young ladies was my primary objective. I started by fucking a sweet young nurse, whose name I never learned, in the back seat of her car.

Briefly, I dated a pale, brunette Chi Omega with huge tits. If she was interested in getting fucked in the ass we might have stayed together longer. Damn, she had some gorgeous tits. My mouth salivates whenever I think about them.

I took one for the team to help a brother. He wanted to lose his virginity but needed me to keep his girl's friend distracted. I wish I could forget that bridge troll.

There was a pretty Latina that I chased for a while, but she was another good catholic girl holding out for marriage. I wasn't going down that road again.

A sweet redhead helped me out when my truck broke down. She lent me her motorcycle for a couple of months. She was a bit of fun, but way too skinny and didn't have any tits.

I chased a gorgeous blonde that reminded me of Debbie Harry, the singer from Blondie. At a party one night I got hammered and she helped me back to my room. I puked on her. Things didn't go well after that.

There was a beautiful Norwegian girl from my old neighborhood that I lusted after. We were friends for a long time and went on a few dates, but she was very opinionated, and we argued all the time. One night she got a little tipsy and crawled into my lap, groping at my cock and pushing her tits into my face. I wanted to fuck her so much, but I knew if we did it would ruin our friendship. So, I took her home safely and went back to my room to jack off. I think it was a good call. We're still friends.

There were a smattering of others, nothing memorable. None of them was interested in getting their sphincters licked and fingered, much less taking my cock in their ass.

Maybe I wasn't the most successful guy in the fraternity house at getting what I wanted, but I didn't do bad for a poor, third semester freshman with lousy grades. And then I met Barbara.

Barbara was the girlfriend of one of the active brothers when I pledged. She was a petite blonde with a cute smile and a tight body and a sexy ass. Her skin was milk white, complementing her vibrant blue eyes and a splash of freckles across her delicate nose. I was instantly smitten.

Here is where I confess, as a poor Hispanic from a rural area, I had a tremendous weakness for blondes. In particular, I favored blondes with alabaster skin. In my mind, Barbara was the physical manifestation of my ideal woman.

This was her first semester at this university. She was a recent transfer from a private college in Puget Sound, Washington. Her parents divorced and both were having serious financial troubles, so there was no money for expensive private schools. She went from rolling with the scions of the wealthiest families in the northwest, to slumming it at a state school in a city with a lot more Hispanics than she had ever seen before.

At Puget Sound she was an Alpha Phi, but they didn't have a presence at this school. So, even though she was a sorority member, she was considered a GDI. As such, she didn't have sorority sisters to spend time with, so she made the fraternity house her base on campus.

Maybe dating a poor Hispanic seemed exotic to her, maybe she was trying to embarrass her parents, but for whatever reason she zeroed in on me. She broke it off with my fraternity brother and started a full court press pursuit. I was not just flattered; I was gob smacked. We started to date, and, by the end of my pledge semester, I was completely under her spell.

During initiation week, my pledge brothers and I weren't allowed to converse with anyone outside of the house. Regardless, getting out to go to class was a great relief. For a few hours every day we weren't being hazed and mentally broken down. Between this, the scouring of the fraternity house from top to bottom, the unending list of tasks to be completed that week, and enforced study breaks, Hell Week was exhausting. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time and wouldn't trade these memories for anything.

Barbara knew I wasn't allowed to talk outside of the house, and no one outside of the fraternity was allowed in the house that week. So, she would find me walking to and from class and accompany me. The whole way she would chatter about this and that, tell me how much she missed me and try to sneak in a kiss. We got caught every time and the fraternity brothers really punished me for it. But I didn't mind.

On Friday of Hell Week, she caught up with me on the way back from class. She knew this would be the last time she would see me until after initiation on Sunday. I was in a hurry to get back because we had a scheduled event, so she jogged to keep up with me. As we hustled along a winding path through a grassy, park-like area, she trotted ahead and turned to face me. I kept pressing on.

"I know you can't say anything," she said, gasping for breath as she struggled not to trip over her own feet while walking backwards. "But this week has made something crystal clear to me. I don't just miss you; I feel empty without you. I feel lost without you. My heart is going to explode if I don't tell you this before you go -- I love you! I love you so much! It's stupid to be this much in love."

It was too much. I stopped and stared at her blankly. I knew how I felt about her, but I vowed not to be the chump that declared his love too early this time. A few awkward moments passed, but as I was about to break my silence and profess my love to her, a group of fraternity brothers closed in on us. I took the opportunity to escape and ran like a coward back to the house.

That weekend was a complete blur to me. I did everything to complete my initiation, but my mind was on Barbara. And when we were introduced as new brothers at the big dinner and party on Sunday night, she was there waiting for me. The rest of the world ceased to matter, all I saw was Barbara.

IV.

We left the party early and went back to her apartment. Her mother was enjoying her newly divorced freedom, so she was often gone at night. Alone in her bedroom, we held each other, kissed, and whispered our love, as if it would cease to be real if we didn't keep repeating it aloud.

I fumbled through unbuttoning her slate grey blouse while she looked up at me, giddy with anticipation. Pulling the blouse off her shoulders revealed her pale breasts in a black push-up brassiere. I reached behind her with one hand and released the clasps, a skill I developed with Lily. She had creamy white, perky, handful-sized tits capped with pale pink nipples. They invited attention, and, unable to resist, I bent down to lick and kiss at her breasts.

As I lavished attention on her tits, she removed her skirt and let it drop to the floor. I had to step back to take in the view of Barbara standing in her black thong panties, thigh high black stockings and red stilettos. She was truly a vision of Nordic beauty, flawless alabaster skin, dangerous curves, and a naughty look in her eyes. Her lingerie and shoes, relics from a wealthier time, probably cost more than my entire wardrobe of cheap denim jeans and faded t-shirts.

The poor Hispanic kid in me questioned how this was possible. Admitting our love made things seem so different. We had groped, probed and fucked often this semester, usually aided by alcohol and permanent horniness. But this wasn't fucking, this was stone-cold sober making love.

Was this a trap? Did she have friends hiding in the closet waiting to leap out and humiliate me for thinking I was deserving of this porcelain beauty? Was I going to wake up, alone and sweating in my room back at the fraternity house?

At her private college in Washington, her previous boyfriend was the son of one of the first software engineers at Microsoft and drove a black Porsche. Her own car was a vintage British racing green '67 MGB Roadster her father gave her as a birthday present a couple of years ago. I was the son of a divorced waitress and a sometimes-employed construction worker/horse racing bookie. I drove an old Chevy truck that could only be described as baby-shit brown. At this moment I had less than twenty bucks in my bank account.

My cock strained to be released, so I kicked my shoes off, pulled my pants down, and tossed them aside. Fuck it, I thought. She chose me, and if it wasn't real love, it was a hell of a long con. I'd been humiliated plenty of times, so if that's what this was, I was at least going to enjoy the view.

As if to ease my fears, she reached for my straining cock and massaged me through my K-Mart tighty-whities. The fabric was worn so thin that my erection might have torn through if I got any stiffer. She saved me the shame by pulling them down over my hips. My cock sprang out, bouncing up and down in time to my racing heartbeat.

She knelt before me and wrapped both hands around my throbbing member. As she brought her lips to my fleshy knob, she looked up and we locked eyes. I saw in her angelic face a slight quiver of fear, as if she too was vulnerable. She had gone through so much this past year, and she saw in our love hope for a new start. But she also knew she was exposed to getting hurt, having everything taken from her again.

I don't know what she saw in my eyes. I wanted to exude strength and confidence, but that's not what I felt. Instead, I felt unworthy, undeserving of such a beautiful woman. Despite my resolve to proceed with fearless abandon until she pulled the rug out from under me, I knew it was false bravado.

Her tongue flicked out and licked at the underside of the tip. A shiver traced across my skin like an electric charge. With our eyes still locked, she took me past her lips and sucked on the tip. I've never felt so under the control of a woman.

She took her forward hand from my cock and stroked at my balls, gently scratching with her fingernails. Now able to take in more of my length, she sucked and licked with earnest, coating me with her saliva. With a firm grip she stroked and pushed me in to the back of her throat. I gave a little extra nudge with my hips, and it caught her by surprise. She coughed and sputtered, but she didn't stop. It was a good sign.

I loved it when she got sloppy on my cock. Long strings of saliva hung from her lips and chin as she kept pushing harder and deeper against the back of her throat. Bathing my erection with her spit, she focused on bringing me to the edge of release. She attacked my cock with tireless energy and feverous intent.

Watching from above was a glorious way to appreciate the sensuality of her curvaceous body. Her long, blonde hair swung back and forth, no longer perfectly coiffed, but loose and free. I followed the taper of her back from her shoulders to her narrow waist, where her ass flared out into two perfect, soft globes. The black thong she wore dived into the beckoning valley between her ass cheeks.

Sliding her hand along my length, stroking faster to bring me to the edge, I felt the familiar contracting of my balls. She felt it also and applied a technique I taught her to draw me back from the edge. She grabbed my scrotum, careful not to cause pain, and stretched it down. The urge to cum subsided.

My mind reeled at the lithe beauty on display before me. I ached to slide my tongue along the length of the thong as it plunged between her ass cheeks. I wanted to take a deep breath and inhale the delightful scent of her pussy, to trace my tongue between the puffy lips of her vulva, along the petals of her labia and into her hot, wet pussy. Tonight, I would make her climax until her legs trembled.

I gestured for her to stand up. Now it was my turn to kneel before her. Slowly I pulled her thong panties down over her hips. The moment where the thong and tiny patch of fabric required an extra tug to release from between her legs gave me a little extra thrill. I wanted to be nestled that snugly into the hot, wet junction of her thighs.

One time I mentioned how much I preferred women with natural, thick bushes. Since then, Barbara stopped trimming her pubic hair. Presented before me, she boldly displayed a thick matte of reddish, golden blonde curls.

After helping her to step free of the thong, I pressed the crotch fabric to my nose. It held her faint feminine scent and a small moist spot. I licked at the spot before laying the panties aside with reverence.

Signaling for her to bend over the bed, I positioned myself behind her. Wearing her red stiletto heels, her ass presented high, right at my mouth level. An animal urge overtook me, and I wanted to ravage her, to fuck her until we collapsed from exhaustion.

Instead, I gathered my self-control and kneeled behind her. Her hot, sensual, feminine fragrance welcome me to her beautiful ass. She spread her legs, exposing the curling, reddish blonde hairs that surrounded her slit and her inner folds to me. And above that, the object of my prurient obsession - the pale, tan rosette of her sphincter.

Every part of me wanted to drag my tongue across her asshole, to probe at it with the tip. It is a testament to my love for Barbara that I held that perverse desire in check. In my previous attempts when we fucked, she pushed me away or directly ordered me not to play with her ass. Even at our most inebriated, she always had the presence of mind to let me know her ass was not available for tonguing, fingering, or heaven forbid, fucking.

But that was then, when it was just sex. This was a new beginning, the climactic sexual event signifying our confession of love. I was sure that tonight she would offer her whole body to me. And I intended to savor the build-up, to take her body so far beyond any orgasmic experience that she would readily offer her ass to me.

That was the plan. The reality was less climactic. I applied all the cunnilingus knowledge gained from my G-spot book and practiced on Lily, but it didn't get the same response. She did orgasm, once, maybe twice, but she may have been being kind to my fragile ego. The only thing she really responded to was stimulating her clitoris.

Having not received the results I wanted for her by hand or mouth; I stroked at my cock feverishly to attempt to bring it back to full hardness. Once it was hard enough, I pushed it into her rapidly drying pussy. Within a few strokes and, with a little spit rubbed on it, I regained a reasonable erection and proceeded to fuck her. Slowly at first but building to an increasing crescendo. But even that was less than successful. Several times I had to stop and either spit or smear some lube on my cock.

What had started out so erotically finished off like a rushed last minute term paper. I acknowledged her discomfort, and she sensed my increasing frustration. Regardless, we powered through doggy style, missionary, and cowgirl positions with no indication that either of us was going to finish strong.

When she turned to mount me in a reverse cowgirl position, I was able to focus on her tantalizing asshole as it bounced up and down. Within a few minutes my balls contracted, and I rammed myself into her to my full length. Spurt after spurt of cum filled her pussy, leaking out and smearing into our tangle of pubes.

In my excitement I rubbed some of the cum onto her sphincter with my thumb, circling and applying gentle pressure. My cock wasn't responding yet, but I felt confident I could have another strong erection in a few minutes if I spent the time preparing her ass to receive me.

She slapped my hand away and scowled at me over her shoulder. My cock slid out of her pussy, limp and bedraggled.

Thus ended our first night of 'making love.'

V.

So, I made the trade-off. I packed away my twisted, taboo perversions to be with my physical ideal of a woman. We stayed together for several years, moving into our own place, struggling with our finances, bickering over who would do what chores. Sometimes we argued over trivialities just to have a reason to talk to each other.

It wasn't all bad. We celebrated a few successes, like Barbara completing her master's degree in communications. She never seemed to find a job that fit.

I left a steady job to start my own consulting business. I had clients, but it never seemed to be enough. Growing up poor, I never learned how to manage money. Growing up wealthy, Barbara always saw it as a means of buying expensive things we couldn't afford. For every brief period of financial comfort, there was an extended period of worrying about paying our rent.

We dreamed about moving to Spain or going up to Alaska to find work alongside her dad. Inertia is a bitch, so we muddled along.

After seven years we reached a crossroad. I didn't know it was a crossroad, I just assumed it was the next thing on the list to do, so we got married. The older, wiser version of me realized, in hindsight, we needed to break up.

Regarding my ideal woman, she packed on a few pounds, developing a bit of a gut and a huge, fat ass. I still was turned on by her curves, so that wasn't a breaking point, but she was always dieting and miserable.

I confess developing a gut from working at my computer all the time. I remember joking with someone about not needing to get in shape, I was already married. Again, the older, wiser me cringes at that memory.

Three years into our marriage she left me for the son of a successful local business owner.

I understood. The lure of financial comfort was worth the trade-off of having an affair with a frail, pink, little twerp. Whatever bitterness I felt was balanced by the knowledge that I got to fuck her when she was beautiful. Maybe the ex-boyfriend back in Puget Sound fondly remembers fucking her when she was a barely legal virgin. And so it goes.

Now, single and on my own for the first time in ten years, I started to think about Lily. I frequently thought about what I had done to her, how I had betrayed her, broke her heart and abandoned her. I wrecked her plans for a grand wedding, a passel of kids, and a small home in the North Valley, not too far from her parents. I couldn't shake off the knowledge that I was a piece of shit.

Had she recovered? How long had it taken her to love again? She never was one for drinking. What if she became an alcoholic and her life spiraled into the gutter, kind of like mine had.

I wanted to know. I began to feel a compulsion to find her and apologize. To beg for her forgiveness. Maybe to receive some sort of absolution that might free me from the darkness that was my life.

I'll skip the boring, stalker details. Suffice to say, I found her and plotted out a way to 'accidentally' bump into her.

My plan was to cross paths with her at a coffee shop she visited daily. Her standard order was a large, wet cappuccino. On the morning I intended to execute my plan, I bribed the barista to prepare our orders simultaneously and call mine out right after hers.

It was a brilliant plan, and it worked. We arrived at the counter at the same time to retrieve our drinks and awkward hijinks ensued.

"Lily?" I asked, cocking my head in just enough of a questioning way to convey that I was 90% sure it was her, but acknowledging that time passed and people changed.

She paused and looked at me for several moments before the light of recognition lit up her beautiful eyes. How I missed gazing into her eyes.

"Robert? Wow..." she said. What else was there to say? I was about 20 pounds heavier and the thick, dark hair of my youth was quite a bit thinner. Not to mention getting divorced was hard on me, I didn't sleep well, and it showed.

On the other hand, Lily looked great. She changed her hair style to a sexy, shorter cut that allowed her naturally curly, brunette hair to frame her face in a very flattering way. She was dressed in a professional blouse and skirt that showed off her tight physique. Her well-toned, black stockinged legs seemed to go on much further than I remembered. She wore black, professional high heels that looked expensive.

"Crazy running into you here," I said. "I'm not usually in this part of town, but I'm meeting a client later and I figured I get some coffee and do some work while I waited."

"Yeah, what a coincidence. I work nearby."

"Hey, do you have a minute, I'd love to catch up with you."

"Look Robert, please take this exactly the way I'm going to say it. I don't care to speak with you."

I was stunned. Well maybe not stunned that she didn't want to talk to me but stunned that she would speak with such forthright confidence. My Lily was shy and didn't like confrontation.

"I get it. Where do I come off acting like we're just a couple of friends that drifted apart over the years?"

She didn't feel the need to respond. I tried to read her eyes. She didn't seem angry, confused, or uncomfortable in any way.

"It's been a long time Lily, and we're different people now. I just wondered  if we could talk. Maybe I can apologize to you--"

"--You don't need to apologize. In fact, you don't need to say anything. I must leave."

I looked down into my coffee. "Please...?" Maybe she heard something in my voice, but her expression softened. "... just a couple of minutes?"

She gestured to a small table with tall stools -- wooden seats and metal frames, meant to ensure patrons didn't linger. Right past the table were two unoccupied, overstuffed coffee house armchairs.

We settled onto the miserable, hard stools. "Great seats," I said, "do you think they were designed by medieval clerics from the Spanish Inquisition?" Did I see hint of a smile in the corner of her mouth?

"Time, Robert," she said, tapping her expensive looking watch. "I don't have much to spare for a conversation with you."

"Understood," I said. "You know, it's funny, but I often wondered what I would say if I ran into you somewhere..."

She tapped at her watch again and scowled at me.

"Right... yeah... Well, um, I need to apologize to you--"

"--No, Robert, you don't. We were kids. Breakups happen."

"But I was such an awful person, the way that I did it--"

"--Was shitty. And it hurt. I cried. I ate ice cream. I watched cheesy romance movies. And I moved on."

"That's all? I always assumed it would have more of an impact on you."

"Do you feel cheated? Would it be better if my life was ruined? Do you want me to weep and beg you to come back to me?"

"No, of course not--"

"How about if I say that I pulled myself together and vowed to rebuild my life despite you?"

"C'mon, you know that's not what I meant."

"Do I? Listen close." She leaned in. I found myself leaning away. "We. Were. Kids." She stabbed at the table with her finger to emphasize each word.

"You don't understand. What I did to you has been a black spot on my soul for years now. I regret it so much. It weighs on me like an anchor."

She leaned back and didn't say anything.

"I can trace a straight line from so many mistakes and failures in my life to that moment when I..." the only words that described what I did refused to come out of my mouth. Still Lily said nothing. She took a sip of her cappuccino and stared at me.

"Every relationship I've had since then..." I continued, "they were all measured against you. Against what we had."

"What we had?" She stared at me in disbelief. There was rising anger in her voice. "I was nothing but a broken sex doll to you," she growled.

"What?"

"In your eyes, there was something wrong with me. You couldn't take my virginity, the thing I was holding in precious reserve for our wedding night. I wasn't good enough for you. You didn't want me anymore!" Her voice was getting progressively louder. A few of the patrons turned to see what was happening.

"That's not true..." I caught myself, "No, it is true. I wanted--"

"--Who cares what you wanted? You discarded me, like trash, to chase after some college girls. They were better than me, smarter, prettier. And they would spread their legs for you!" The last sentence was loud enough that the barista started to walk over toward us. Lily waved him off.

I stared into my coffee, too ashamed to look at her. She continued in a quieter voice. "I'll ease your mind. I forgave you years ago. I confessed those sins to Fr. Martinez at Our Lady of Guadalupe. I suggest you find somewhere to do the same."

"I can't let it go."

"I was wrecked for about a month. But you know I have a strong family, and they rallied to support me."

"Your mom was always so sweet to me. Your dad scared me shitless."

"If he was here now, he would kick your ass. My mom would help. Not to mention my sister."

"But you're so different now. Confident, unflinching... professional."

"Here's the thirty second history to assuage your guilt. I went down to State and got my B. A. in Political Science in three grueling years.

"It was good for me to be on my own, made me grow up. While I was there, I dated -- had a couple of semi-serious boyfriends. Got dumped by one, dumped the other. Life goes on.

"Anyway, I applied to law school and got accepted to an expensive program on the East Coast. My parents mortgaged their house to help me. They sacrificed their future and retirement because they believed in me."

"Wow." What else could I say?

"I came back to practice. Got recruited by a local white shoe firm, lots of big shots, shady politicians. Last year I cherry-picked a couple of exceptional young attorneys and we started our own firm. We're small, but we have a strong reputation, and the right people are starting to notice."

"Enough of that. I got married. We divorced two years ago. We had no time for each other."

"Kids?"

"I can't have any children of my own. Turns out Iam broken on the inside."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. My ex and I never even considered it. We were too self-centered to handle kids. It was for the best, she left me a year ago. Life goes on."

"Life goes on. I have nieces and nephews that I cherish. They think I'm the greatesttia in the world. I spoil them rotten."

"You would be great with a child. I always imagined you'd have a houseful."

"I will be an exceptional mother. I plan to adopt sometime in the next few years." She leaned in again, but not in a threatening way. "Look Robert. I don't need the burden of thinking I ruined your life when you dumped me. Let it go. I did."

"Is there anyone now?" I asked.

"Are you seriously trying to hit on me?"

"No, no... I just wondered. You've got so much going on... I only want the best for you."

"I'm not seeing anyone," she said, her tone more relaxed now. "I'm too busy trying to build up my firm."

There didn't seem to be anything more to say. I took a big gulp of my coffee and stood to go. "Thanks for talking to me. I'm going to follow your advice and go to confession. I could use a little salvation." I tried a weak smile, but there were a lot of emotions churning inside me. If I said anything more, I might say something stupid, humiliate myself again.

"Things will be different this time," she said.

"What?"

"You will be my broken sex doll."

I furrowed my brow. Her words made no sense to me.

"I have... needs. You have certain skills of which I have very fond memories."

"Ummm... do you mean the g-spot thing?"

She chose to ignore my stupid question. "I'll need you to get in shape. I don't want to see your gross, doughy, naked body. I'll get you in with my trainer."

"I don't understand."

"You understand. Do you think someone with my resources might not be keeping tabs on you? It was easy, you didn't go anywhere or accomplish much."

"Ouch. I've done plenty--"

"You're a third-tier consultant picking up scraps here and there. Your dumpy wife left you for the runt son of a merchant. You couldn't even buy her a decent handbag."

"Wait a minute, we did okay--"

"--Sometimes. Life goes on. You need to acknowledge that whatever this becomes will be on my terms."

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning there's a sword of Damocles hanging over your head. Always keep that in mind."

"Okay, I'm still not sure what we're doing.

"I don't remember you being this slow on the uptake. I'll help you out in case I haven't explained things clearly," she said, the scorn obvious in her tone. "Pay attention. I'm no longer saving my virginity for marriage... and all it implies."

Did I dare imagine the implications? "Whatever you're offering, it will be on your terms? Right... okay... I'll accept that." Was this possible? Was Lily wanting to be with me again, despite what I'd done? Was she offering me all I had been denied?

"That's not what I meant by acknowledgement. Get on your knees and lick my shoes."

I balked at her request. Was it a request? It sounded more like a command.

"The soles. Bathe them with your tongue before I head back to my office."

"You're kidding. I'm not doing that in public. Hell, I wouldn't lick shoes anywhere." I tried to cling to some bit of dignity.

"In fifteen seconds, I walk out of here if you aren't on your knees making sure there's no gum on the soles of my high heels."

I looked around. There weren't many people in the coffee shop, but we were at an exposed, tall table in the center of the store. Everyone would be able to see.

"Ten seconds." Her voice was like ice.

"That would be humiliating. I can't--"

"Five seconds." Her eyes were dark and emotionless.

It turns out I can lick the soles of Lily's high heeled shoes in a downtown coffee shop. All the patrons, including a few that walked in while I groveled on the floor, can attest to that fact.

I tried to lift her shoes to my mouth, but that wasn't her desire. She pushed me to the ground with the toe of her shoe and pressed the sole to my mouth. I was unable to resist. I licked both of her shoes for several minutes. Tears streamed from my eyes. I thought I knew what humiliation was before, but it goes so much lower.

When we left the coffee shop, I seemed to instinctually know to walk a few steps behind her. I wanted to spit out the detritus from her shoes, but I also seemed to know it would make her angry. Maybe angry enough to discard me.

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