‘If only we could go back to the start. And do it differently and not make the mistakes me made. And be together through all the years we weren’t. Just think.’
I lean into her and I kiss her shoulder and her neck. She smells of roses and she tastes of salt. I reach one arm round and cup her breast in my hand, feeling the small weight of it and the soft give and her nipple stiff and rough. She makes a sound like purring and she presses against me.
‘Just think what our lives might have been if we’d had those lost years together.’
I kiss her neck again and I tell her we’ve got now and that’s more than we had yesterday or the day before. And the thing is I am glad of that, right there and then I am glad, and I want her now – that’s what it feels like being with her, but I do not wish the years we’ve had apart never were.
‘Sometimes I hate you,’ she says. ‘With every fibre of my being. Hate you to hell and back. For the time we’ve wasted. For the years of waiting and wanting and all of me used up. I was beautiful back then and now…’
I tell her she’s still beautiful and I press her nipple between finger and thumb, pinching it only till she makes a small sound at the back of her throat – like a catch in her breath, like a stifled moan.
She turns her face to me and her mouth finds mine and we are hot and wet and hungry, and fumbling all over again, and blowing air and sucking, and my fingers inside her and all of me inside her, hard and thrusting, and her legs holding me there, and she bites my ear and I cry out – not in pain but something like.
Afterwards, we do not withdraw, but lie all bound up together, our bodies growing cold and heavy again and our breath slowing, and our hearts slowing, too, beating in time perhaps.
‘Fuck,’ she says.
The word sounds wrong in her mouth. Like a blasphemy yelled out in church. She laughs like it’s nothing.
Then she’s talking again and she says my name first and she holds me tighter and laughs. And she says we need to make up for lost time and we’ve got the room booked for the night and we should order something to eat and something to drink. Have it brought to the room so we don’t need to leave the bed.
I know it’s off limits, but I want to ask her about her husband and what she’s told him to explain her not being home and if he will miss her. Surely he would miss her. Then I worry that he will find out. That he will smell me on her when they briefly kiss on her return. I worry that the smell of her is on me.
‘If only we’d done this sooner,’ she says. ‘If only we’d made it work all those years back. Just think.’
I smile, making the shape of a smile at least. She reaches past me for the phone and she dials for room service. She orders wine in a bucket of ice, and strawberries and cucumber and pepper, and cold cuts of meat and fries.
I pull the sheet about me, covering my limp cock. I look at the clock by the bed. It is only just past seven. I should call Janet and tell her I’m ok and speak to the kids and ask them about their day and tell them I love them and I miss them.
Patricia Ann McNair 
‘If only we could go back to the start. And do it differently and not make the mistakes me made. And be together through all the years we weren’t. Just think.’
I lean into her and I kiss her shoulder and her neck. She smells of roses and she tastes of salt. I reach one arm round and cup her breast in my hand, feeling the small weight of it and the soft give and her nipple stiff and rough. She makes a sound like purring and she presses against me.
‘Just think what our lives might have been if we’d had those lost years together.’
I kiss her neck again and I tell her we’ve got now and that’s more than we had yesterday or the day before. And the thing is I am glad of that, right there and then I am glad, and I want her now – that’s what it feels like being with her, but I do not wish the years we’ve had apart never were.
‘Sometimes I hate you,’ she says. ‘With every fibre of my being. Hate you to hell and back. For the time we’ve wasted. For the years of waiting and wanting and all of me used up. I was beautiful back then and now…’
I tell her she’s still beautiful and I press her nipple between finger and thumb, pinching it only till she makes a small sound at the back of her throat – like a catch in her breath, like a stifled moan.
She turns her face to me and her mouth finds mine and we are hot and wet and hungry, and fumbling all over again, and blowing air and sucking, and my fingers inside her and all of me inside her, hard and thrusting, and her legs holding me there, and she bites my ear and I cry out – not in pain but something like.
Afterwards, we do not withdraw, but lie all bound up together, our bodies growing cold and heavy again and our breath slowing, and our hearts slowing, too, beating in time perhaps.
‘Fuck,’ she says.
The word sounds wrong in her mouth. Like a blasphemy yelled out in church. She laughs like it’s nothing.
Then she’s talking again and she says my name first and she holds me tighter and laughs. And she says we need to make up for lost time and we’ve got the room booked for the night and we should order something to eat and something to drink. Have it brought to the room so we don’t need to leave the bed.
I know it’s off limits, but I want to ask her about her husband and what she’s told him to explain her not being home and if he will miss her. Surely he would miss her. Then I worry that he will find out. That he will smell me on her when they briefly kiss on her return. I worry that the smell of her is on me.
‘If only we’d done this sooner,’ she says. ‘If only we’d made it work all those years back. Just think.’
I smile, making the shape of a smile at least. She reaches past me for the phone and she dials for room service. She orders wine in a bucket of ice, and strawberries and cucumber and pepper, and cold cuts of meat and fries.
I pull the sheet about me, covering my limp cock. I look at the clock by the bed. It is only just past seven. I should call Janet and tell her I’m ok and speak to the kids and ask them about their day and tell them I love them and I miss them.
‘If only…’ she says again.