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I wanted to fuck him, too. He was shaggily attractive, disheveled, with a concentrated, thoughtful face and mop of brown hair, a college professor from Central Casting. He groaned as he showed me his cock and I licked my lips, imagining it inside me.We said we loved each other, finally. Neither of us had believed you could build love only online, without ever meeting, and yet, here we were. We feverishly talked about meeting, me flying to his town to couchsurf and sneak to his office during the day, so we could finally touch each other's skin. It became a bit tortured, as he realized he couldn't have both me and his wife. Everything was laced with sadness and the forbidden. But he sustained me, a light in the seedy darkness. He said I did the same for him, and that he would love me forever.We started to grow apart a little bit — it was hard to keep up the stream of constant communication with the different time zone. He told me his wife had been offered a job in Europe; it would mean. Lily was finishing the dinner dishes at the sink. The under-counter stereo played a smooth jazz CD. Lily moved slowly, her hips swaying to the music beneath her skirt. Something in the simplicity of it stopped me. I stood there watching her dance under the amber cone of the sink light. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she dancing in a memory, a fantasy? Was I there with her? Had I gone away? These last two questions concerned more than I expected. I loved Lily. I had known that I wanted a more permanent relationship with her after a month of dating, we married a year later. But we hadn’t been together for awhile. Though I found purpose in my work and my work gave us this world around us, it wasn’t everything. I stepped toward her. My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I looked at the screen and saw it was Mathias calling. No doubt he wanted to talk about the Benning proposal. I turned toward my den, he would want to go over the figures we put together on Tuesday. I heard plates.
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