Free Deeper Illusions by Annie Jocoby Page A

and looked me in the eye. “I have to see Benjamin,” was all he said.
    I nodded. I knew that was coming. “When?” I asked.
    “We’re going to leave from here.”
    “I’m going, too, right?”
    “Of course. I need you there with me, to keep me sane.”
    I sighed. “I hate to ask this, but why?”
    “Benjamin has Stage Four lung cancer. He only has a matter of weeks to live.”
    “I see.” I waited for him to say more. I knew him so well now that I knew just how to react to every situation. Sometimes it helped if I talked. Sometimes it helped if I was silent, and let him do all the talking.
    This seemed to be the latter situation.
    “So….I told Sarah that I didn’t care that he was dying. I don’t want to see him.” He ran his hands through his hair, and started patting his legs nervously. “But she made the point that I would need closure. Otherwise I would regret it for the rest of my life.” He paused for a long time, and tears came to his eyes once more. “I have to admit that she has a point.”
    I nodded. “I agree. You only have one chance to say your piece with him. I think it’s wonderful that you’re doing this.”
    “Maybe he’ll finally tell me why he did what he did to me. That’s my hope, anyhow. Deathbed confession and all that, you know.”
    “That would be perfect,” I began. “But Ryan, don’t expect it. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken if it doesn’t come through.”
    He said nothing, just nodded.
    I felt for him so strongly, especially at that moment. Once again, I saw him as a little boy, terrified of his father. At t his moment, he wasn’t a 33-year-old bank president. He was an 8-year-old boy who was terrified of being beat for the smallest transgressions, while he watched his mother slowly slip into oblivion. It must have been so hard for him, so very, very hard. I put my arm around him, and could feel him shaking all over.
    I kissed his forehead. Then we were ki ssing, slowly, tenderly. We hadn’t been physical like that since the day we found out that our story was breaking all over the world. There had just been way too much tension. There was still a lot of tension, but it was time to overcome that and give comfort to one another in the form of lovemaking. He put his hand on my thigh, and I felt the familiar shivers. Somehow, his touch never got old. It always felt like the first time with him, no matter how many times we made love. His lips on my lips felt like they were touching for the first time. His strong, yet gentle, hand on my skin felt like it had never been on my skin before. As he ran his fingers through my hair, softly entangling his smooth hands in my rather thick mane, it was like he had never done this before to me. It was always the first time for me. I felt just as giddy inside as I did in our inaugural meeting, my stomach doing cartwheels, my heart beating like a timpani, and my hands shaking a tiny bit.
    I wondered if it would ever get old, feeling him touch me like this.
    I certainly hoped not.
    He slowly undressed me, unbuttoning my shirt, while kissing my shoulder lightly. I sighed, as his lips made their way to my breasts, then stomach. I was still quite thin, as I was forever monitoring my diet these days, so I wasn’t in the least bit self-conscious about his mouth making its way to my nether region. He unbuckled my jeans, then slipped off my panties, his tongue slowly exploring inside me. Tenderly, gently, he kept me enthralled like that for almost an hour. For the first time since the sordid story broke, I was lost in his touch. Nothing else mattered in that moment, as I was brought to orgasm after orgasm.
    And the best was yet to come.
    I could hear him breathing in my ear, his breath feeling hot and sticky sweet. There was a faint smell of honeysuckle in his hair. His shirt was still on, but he had slipped off his shorts and boxer briefs, and he entered me slowly, kissing my breasts, neck and face, while his hands were