Fucking High Quality XXX

An engaged woman meeting up with a past lover.

But he's not ready to hear that. It's too soon and he needs time to heal.

I remember how difficult those first days were for me and this past week I longed to help him somehow. I had no magic words, only my usual offer of love and friendship, caring and support. But I could hardly give him that, not with all those people around. As he was surrounded by so many well-intentioned people, I kept my distance. And yet, we always spoke to each other in a private language - gestures and looks that only we understood. So I let him know in our own special way - a gentle touch on his arm as I walked by, a loving smile from across the room, a knowing wink. And in his time of great need, he accepted my offer to stay with him and take care of him for a while. That's why I am here in the middle of the night.

I share this brief history so you'll understand the significance of what happens next.

Maybe I should knock on the door. Or just go in and sit next to him. He's probably asleep. Oh! I hate having to question myself, my every move. If he were a woman friend, I wouldn't think twice. But he has taught me so well that because we are the opposite sex our friendship, even in its most platonic state, was suspect. And so I've learned to think before I act, to question my usually on-target instincts when it comes to him. But there's nobody here now to witness my attempts to comfort my friend. And he is, after all, my friend. Listen to me, defending myself - to myself - alone in the darkness.

I approach Jake's room, knock softly and open the door. On his side, his face turned away from me, he is engaged in a restless sleep. Quietly, I sit on the edge of the bed. My fingertips instinctively caress his forehead. In my head I think of all the things I want to say, and I whisper in his ear, "Whatever you need, whatever you want, please let me be there for you. I love you."

I'm about to stand when I hear the rustle of sheets and feel his hand reach out for mine. "Don't go Kayla... please." He turns to me and I look back at him. As the hall light casts a shadow on a week's worth of unshaven facial hair and sad, teary eyes, I can't help but notice how handsome his face is, even in his sorrow. He pulls me toward him and kisses me. Naturally I respond with the kind of passion that has always exemplified my love and desire for him. Death hasn't changed that. I move on top of him, straddling him without breaking the kiss. I feel different. Technically, we are not committing adultery and that makes all the difference in the world. "This is different, isn't it?" His words echo my thoughts but I hesitate before answering, "I don't feel guilty. And I feel guilty that I don't feel guilty. Shouldn't I?"

"What are you afraid of?" he asks. Jake knows me so well that he knows from where inside my questions come. He probably knows the answers already. Incapable of anything but the absolute truth with him, I tell him, "I'm afraid that when you are with me you will think of her, that..." I hesitate as he awaits the end of the statement "...that you'll call out her name, not mine." He pulls me to him and kisses me, and in that kiss I know he won't ever call out her name.

He throws the covers off and pulls me closer. His hands travel across the fine silk barrier between us. I sit up as he removes my robe. As it falls behind me, I pull the bottom of my chemise up over my head and toss it aside. He touches me all over. I feel the heat everywhere his hands come to rest on me. My whole body is aflame, my skin is burning and my blood is boiling with desire.

Jake wants to give, always has.

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