A month after Derrick—my older, married lover—left me, I finally called Josh, the younger man I had secretly been seeing at the same time. I explained that I was going through some life-changing events, and that I had wanted some time alone to get back on my feet. I apologized for disappearing, but assured him that I had needed the time away from him to see if my feelings were true. To my surprise, he was very understanding and forgave me right away.
Shortly after that conversation, Josh and I were monogamously dating. Life with my new man was everything that I had hoped I would someday have with Derrick, minus the money of course. He treated me well and gave me everything I needed and wanted. It was different from the relationship I had with Derrick. Josh didn’t buy me expensive gifts, but he did give me the time and affection that I needed. He slept in the same bed as me every night.
At this time, I was still living at the house that Derrick had bought for me, drove the Mercedes he gave me, and the bills were still being paid for me. The only thing that had really changed was that I wasn’t receiving expensive gifts, although this didn’t really matter much to me. I was happy in my new relationship with Josh, and that I was still being financially taken care of by Derrick—it was the best of both worlds.
About six months after Derrick and I broke up, I was sitting alone in the living room watching TV when the doorbell rang. My initial reaction was fear—Josh was out of town with some of his friends and I rarely had uninvited visitors. When I looked through the peephole, my body felt like it had just been jolted back to life. I felt an overwhelming sense of joy run through my veins. Without thinking twice, I opened the door and instinctively wrapped my arms around Derrick, and then kissed him passionately. And then I came to my senses. “I’m so sorry,” I said as I released him and took a step back. “I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Derrick smiled, pulled me towards him, and just like old times, he touched me in all the right places. His hands felt young again, his hair looked less gray, his face looked less wrinkled, and his tongue felt more experienced than ever before. He swept me off my feet and carried me upstairs, like he had done when we first started dating. He undressed me slowly, keeping his eyes constantly fixed on mine. When he caressed my face, I was breathless, taken aback by the passion in his touch and the memory of what we used to have together. I licked my lips, gazed into his eyes, and lost myself in his love. That night, as I had sex with Derrick again, I did not think of Josh once.
As incredible as it felt to have Derrick back, a part of me knew that we’d eventually have to get up and face reality. Or did we…?