“I see a Clayton Smith,” The receptionist announced, eyes still narrowed down to the screen. He lifted his gaze to me, “Can I see some ID please?”
“He’s here” I replied, and watched as Clayton walked up to me. He was wearing a dark blue shirt with a stripe of red and other colors on the upper right of the shirt, a black trouser and a brown Hermes pam slippers.
I instantly felt overdressed.
“Hey!” he said as he closed in on me. He reached out his arm and slightly hugged me from the side. He took two steps backwards and looked me over. “You look official” he remarked.
I liked his voice, I had always liked how he sounded…
“Sir, are you Clayton Smith?” the receptionist interrupted.
“Oh yeah” he affirmed, turning his attention to the front desk and the man seated below.
He carried himself with such confidence I observed, – it was in the way he moved, the way he spoke.
The receptionist checked him in and handed him a key card.
A bellboy was assigned to him to carry his luggage up to his room. While he did that, Clayton turned to me and smiled, “Shall we?”
I smiled back, “Yes, we shall”
He motioned to me to lead the way and I started to climb up the stairs, right behind the bellboy, with Clayton coming up behind me.
“Thank you” he said to the bellboy who finished setting his luggage on the floor of the cozy room.
He bowed out of our presence and Clayton closed the door after him.
“Hi!” he beamed at me from the door.
I chuckled slightly and glanced at the neatly laid bed behind me.
“You want to go down to the restaurant?” he suggested.
I understood that he thought it was dangerous for us to be alone like this, but my mind still convinced me that I will be able to resist this tall chocolate man before me.
“No,” I replied, lowering myself down to the edge of the bed, “Here is just fine”.
He cocked his head slightly to the side, “Okay”. He stepped away from the door, “You want anything?”
“No” I replied at first, but when he climbed into the bed and stretched himself out at the other end, I said, “maybe some liqueur”.
A chill environment, my man crush and alcohol in my system, I was calling for trouble, I knew it, but my mind still told me ‘nah girl, you’ve got this’.
“Okay” he replied and crawled on his elbows to the telephone that sat on the small bedside table behind me. I was still sitting at the edge of the bed, with my shoes on – I wasn’t gonna take my shoes off, I wanted to be that uncomfortable.
“Hello” he spoke into the handset, then shifted the mouth piece to his cheek and looked up at me, “which do you want?”
“Cointreau” I responded, body tilted sideways so I could look at his face.
“Do you have Cointreau?” he spoke back into the mouth piece. “Okay…. a bottle.. with Ice… yes that would be all, thank you”. He replaced the handset and resumed his position.
He was now asking about my trip.
“You sure you don’t want to take those off?” he asked after I told him my trip was without hassles.
I shook my head.
A knock came at the door and he stood to answer it, stretching his lower back as he went.
“What’s wrong with your waist?” I asked.
“It’s just pain” he dismissed, and turned the door knob open.
The hotel staff stepped into the room with our order and placed it on the table against the wall while Clayton waited at the door for him.
The staff was done in a minute and Clayton closed the door behind him.
He stretched again.
“You should get that checked”.
“It’s just a mild strain,” he winced dismissively, “I’ll be fine” he said and picked up the bottle of wine, he twisted the cock open and poured a judicious amount in a tumbler, added some ice into it and handed it to me.
“You’re not drinking?” I inquired, receiving the glass from him.
He shook his head, “Not cream whiskey”
He paced the floor for a bit before returning to the bed.
We talked, about little things, here and there.
I was somewhat nervous at this point, I didn’t know whether to hold unto my phone or leave it sitting on the bed, wasn’t sure whether to drink from the glass in small sips or gulp the delicious whiskey all at once.
He shifted uncomfortably and I could tell that his waist was hurting.
“Let me massage that for you” I offered.
“Yeah, I’m good with my hands” I got up from the bed, placed my tumbler on the table, removed my shoes and walked to my purse. “I have olive oil I can use”. I always carried that as moisturizer for my hands.
“Okay” he obliged.
I collected the small bottle of oil and walked to his side of the bed.
I stood over him and he turned his body face down. He peeled his shirt up to his back and I suggested he remove the whole thing.
He got to that while I poured a rich amount of the oil into my palm. I knelt on the mattress beside his body and placed my oily hands down to his back. I wasn’t going to sit over him which would have been the most comfortable position for me – no unnecessary contact, I advised myself.
I applied pressure to his back and began to move my hands, up and down his smooth dark skin. I applied as much force as I could muster, this wasn’t a sensual message, so I pressed deep, unto his waist, back and forth. I introduced my elbows to make for even a stronger impact..
I felt him begin to turn over.
I paused and watched him lie supine.
He held out his hand to me, and I moved to sit beside him, “I’m not done” I complained, my face inches apart from his, his eyes looking directly into mine, a sly smile playing across his small lips
I lost my defenses in that moment, and it had everything to do with the way his brown eyes looked at me.
He drew me closer into him and touched his lips down to mine.
I dropped my lower lip open, he slid his tongue in.
I shut my eyes and enjoyed as his tongue danced sloppily with mine.
I should stop, I should stop…
I withdrew my lips from his and moved quickly away from the bed.
I walked to the door and I just stood there.
“Clayton!” I called his name, without reason
“Yep?” he responded
“Yeah?” he was lying stretched out, eyes affixed to the television, so calm.
I was standing, laughing weirdly, feeling like I was at a cross road.
I moved to the chair but that didn’t feel comfortable so I stood to my feet again and paced the floor, all the while repeating his name with nothing tangible else to say.
“I think I’m gonna have that drink now” he stated and rose to the table. He poured himself a glass and returned to the bed.
He was calm, too calm.
I on the other hand was a nervous wreck. I kept going back and forth in the room, chuckling, unnecessarily.
Somewhere in my mind, I wanted him to ask me to come to the bed, to say something, anything to calm my raging nerves, but he didn’t, there was no cajoling with Clayton – he didn’t give it, he didn’t take it either.
This was all up to me, I understood.
“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do” He declared, as if reading my mind.
That didn’t make me feel any better, in fact it did nothing.
“I’ll be back” I excused myself. I went into the bathroom and I just stood there and watched my face in the mirror.
I did nothing but mutter “Oh my god” continuously to myself.
I wondered what Clayton thought of me now, after exuding so much confidence on paper, here I was, a pack of nerves.. and still fully dressed.
I sighed several times, took in long deep breaths and then resurfaced from the bathroom.
He was still sitting in the same position I left him.
I went to him, I kissed him, and he kissed me back.
He rolled over on top of me and tried to remove my top, but I won’t let him. I just kept the kisses going, giving him no access to really touch anything.
I withdrew again and he went to refill his glass, and mine.
This was really awkward.
As he stood over there with his back to me, I moved to sit at the edge of the bed so that when he turned around, he was standing in front of me, looking down at me.
I moved my hands up to his waist, I wanted to see him, to taste him, this I could do.
I fumbled with the button on his pants until he placed his hands over my fingers and rescued me.
The black trouser slipped to the floor, his briefs followed, and there it was,
brown, tall, thick and ready.
I took him into my hands the way you would hold a treasure. I put him in my mouth with the intention of drooling all over him…
I couldn’t feel much of my saliva.. what in the hell!
I tried again, still, I felt dry.
How was this happening right now?
Could it be the wine? Could it be my nerves?
That entire day was not going the way we used to day dream it would. He was the first man I was being with since Jamie, and this was not particularly a romantic relationship either so in my defense, I had good reason to feel the way that I did.
Eventually however, I got out of my clothes, my ‘well armored clothes’.
I was uneasy, clumsy, bodily conscious, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was completely not myself, only, naked.
He was on top of me, running his hands, planting kisses.
He groped both breasts together and sweetly nibbled at the nipples, working his tongue, one after the other.
When he lifted his head, I looked up at his face and his eyes were dark with desire, gleam… for me.
I would go on to carry that look for a long time in my heart, it was beautiful…he was beautiful.
His entrance was grand, hard and hungry. I felt him all the way up to my cervix,
“Do I turn you on?” he groaned.
And I could only moan a “Y-yes”
We tossed around in that bed, assuming angles
“Nice ass” I heard him say.
I caught a glimpse of his face as he came – his eyes were tightly shut, his head beside mine, his small lips hung apart
“Aaarh” he groaned
It was perfect.
DOWNTOWN CHICAGO, ILLIONOIS.
First Came Remorse.
I got home that day to my boys watching television with my mum. I sat down with them, before heading to my room and into the shower.
I took a warm bath, switched off the lights in my room, laid down in my bed and a wave of remorseful feelings took over me.
I had just been with another woman’s man.
I had just given myself to someone who was not in love with me.
I had fallen where I thought I could be strong.
I was too nervous to compose myself and live fully in that moment.
I questioned my strengths, I questioned my values.
As I replayed the events of that morning in my head, warm tears trickled down my cheeks.
It was a remorse, more about the way things happened than about the act itself.
I wondered what would become of our friendship now, I wondered if he would speak to me again.
He didn’t stop conversing with me.
I kept waiting for him to stop, to leave, but Clayton carried on with our friendship like that day in November didn’t happen.
2nd came the desire for closure.
His refusal to talk about it, to reminisce now made me want to talk about it.
I was ashamed as I was eager for his words of affirmation. I wanted him to unburden my heart, to assure me that it was okay, to tell me that I was beautiful, but, he wouldn’t speak about it and that just solidified my worries.
I lived everyday cringing at the memories of myself with him, how I acted, how I should have acted.
The days rolled into weeks, the pain, the shame started to lessen but still, most part of it stayed with me.
One day I told him how I felt and he responded by saying he enjoyed meeting me, he enjoyed being with me and he wished I had stayed longer that day.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about his reply, especially since it was only coming after he had an inkling of what a wreck I had been since that day.
I didn’t even know whether to believe him or not, but Clayton was not a man to say things he didn’t mean, …but what if this time, I thought, he didn’t mean it?
3rd Came Lessons.
I didn’t like feeling this way, I was still dealing with the pain of my marriage with Jamie coming to an end, now I had to deal with this pain coming as a result of my insecurities.
It taught me never to put myself in a situation that would leave me feeling this terrible about myself. If love was my criteria for intercourse, words of affirmation, whatever it was, I was gonna wait for it next time, I was gonna wait for exactly that.
I began to teach myself to love myself more, especially my imperfections. I carried on me nature’s badge of the lives I had brought forth. Any man who was gonna be with me was to expect them but first, I had to embrace and love me.
I began to take care of myself in a way I never really did before. I paid attention to everything about my body from the top to the bottom, I groomed the outside, as well as the inside.
4th came desire.
I was enjoying this new care I was given to myself, It made me feel different in a way, better.
The pain of November started to fade away and when I finally stopped focusing on all the things that must have been wrong about me on that day, I began to focus on Clayton
I remembered how beautiful his penis was
I remembered how he looked at me, how he kissed me
I remembered us being in that room, all the things we did, all the other things we should have done and I desired to have him again.
I wanted a re match, so bad, I wanted to do it again, to do it right this time.
I tried to reminisce with him, but such texts were met with either a smiling or a running emoticon.
5th came Relapse.
I felt rejected and that was not a good feeling.
I also noticed that the photos he so freely used to send to me stopped coming, and we weren’t texting late into the night anymore.
The long deep conversations we used to have were now replaced with me saying too much and him saying too little.
He didn’t seem to have things he wanted to share with me anymore; not how his day went, not something that happened to him when he was younger, nothing of great detail.
I would ask him how he was and it was always met with a “I’m great” or “I’m fine”, nothing further.
He called it a change in seasons and I had to force myself to align with that. But it was hard, so I complained.
I didn’t like this change, I didn’t like it at all to which he called me needlessly insecure. He went further to state that he found such insecurity boring and informed me that he was speaking to me because he found me interesting and warned that I should not erode those qualities by continually being unnecessarily insecure.
That was a brutal blow to my heart.
I tried to forget him, I really did, to not contact him again, but every time something good or bad happened to me, he was the first person I wanted to tell it to. And he didn’t make it any easier by continuing to care about me and stick by my side.
He wanted to know what was going on with me, to know how I was doing, how my boys were doing, how my work was going, what I could do to earn even more income.
He gave me good advice on the things I embarked on, applauded my efforts, listened to everything I had to say and came through financially.
But I couldn’t get past the ‘new season’ of conversations and the burning I felt in between my thighs for him.
6th came a new dawn.
It took me a while but Clayton’s refusal to reminisce over that one time in November forced me to stop associating intimacy with him.
The desire to feel his lips on my skin, to have him deep inside me…
To touch myself to the thoughts of him faded, slowly at first, and then everything became a blur.
I willed myself not to worry about his affairs either, it was out of my character but he asked that I didn’t.
Many times I wanted to call him, to ask how he was doing, how his day went, what he was doing at the moment but I didn’t, for fear of the custom “I’m great” response and how it would particularly make me feel.
He was such a good friend that I really wanted to care in return, but he made me feel like I had nothing that he wanted and that in itself was painful.
I had to forget, excruciatingly forget, about what used to be and accept what now was, like he once said, if he had anything to share with me, he would.
Clayton may not have been my lover, but he was my friend, he cared about me, for me. He gave me his time, listened to me, came through consistently, believed in my abilities, supported my dreams and isn’t that more than most people get?.
I was grateful to have him as a part of my life, I was grateful for the man that he was, all he stood for and how he always kept it 💯 whether I agreed with him or not – that to me was honesty, and I valued honesty, with all of my heart.
Ashley and Jamie’s divorce finalized in the Year 2017. She gained custody of her two boys and Jamie was awarded visitation rights with a duty to pay child support.
Clayton remained a supportive friend as of the time of this narrative.
Ashley got a second job, went back to college and is now focusing on healing, and rebuilding herself.
She hopes to find love with the man of her dreams someday.