Martini With a Twist

Chapter 2

over. What am I hiding? I am not myself tonight. I turn on the water and stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. I see a strong woman, long blonde hair that people constantly admire, green eyes and a defined body in my little black dress. What is wrong with me? I have this guy who loves me, who all of my family and friends adore, waiting to sleep with me in the next room. He probably wants to marry me and all I do is question this relationship. Is this love? I so want it to be. Declan makes me laugh, we have fun together, we like the same things, my celebrity status doesn’t bother him, and he comes from a good family. And like a flash of lightning in my memory, I’m back to that woman and the wink! What the hell? Why can’t I stop thinking about this? Declan and I have been to RPM at least five times since I have been home from the London Games, why have I never seen her there before? I am going to have to go back and look for her and ask her. Ask her what exactly, I don’t know. Enough! You have a great guy waiting for you. Now go! I mouth to myself in the mirror.

I open the bathroom door and Declan is down to his red cotton JCrew boxer shorts. I walk over to him and place my right hand on his chiseled body. Not a fleck of hair on his chest, which he jokes, that I should appreciate given I am a swimmer. He touches my hand with his and leans in for a kiss. Our lips touch. I can feel the stubble on his face from a long day without shaving. He pulls me closer while wrapping both arms around my waist. I concede and wrap my arms around his neck. We kiss and he slowly unzips my dress in the back. He uses both hands to pull my dress down from my shoulders. His fingertips gently brushing the sides of my arms, sending a chilled shiver down my spine. The dress falls to the floor and I step out of it, leaving it behind as Declan walks us over to the bed. He sits down on the edge and keeps me standing while he kisses my stomach and slowly pulls my panties down my legs, caressing them as he goes. He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer, leaving me no choice but to straddle him as he lies back onto the bed. I lean forward, bending down over him and he pulls my face close to his for a kiss. He tickles my left ear lobe with his finger, which I know is an indication of what’s to come.

He pulls me in, curls his lips and begins his ear-sucking ritual. What is it with men and the ear sucking? I suppose this could be pleasurable if they didn’t insist on so much moisture and tongue while doing it. He doesn’t even concentrate on my earlobe but instead, basically just puts my whole damn ear in his mouth. What is hot about that? He may as well be licking my hair, it would have the same non-effect on me. I want to scream, the neck! Kiss my neck! Kiss the small dip in my neck in the middle of my clavicle, anything but the ear. As I contemplate telling him to stop, he suddenly thrusts his hips upward. He flips me over and he is now on top. I lie there with him in between my legs as he pulls the cups of my bra down and places his mouth around my n****e, sucking, for a moment too hard and I push him away. He thinks I am being playful, but I just need the relief. Declan means well I know, I wonder what he is thinking as he kisses my body and caresses my breasts. I try to drink him in and submerge myself in his scent and his body, but something is missing. My mind wanders-is this what love feels like? Is this what it’s like for everyone? He finally pulls his own boxer shorts down around his ankles eventually kicking them off and I can feel his hard erection against my thigh. He slowly inserts himself, guiding himself into me. He pauses briefly.

“Is this okay?”

“Great.” I say. Was that a proper response?

“I love you.” He whispers in my ear through labored breath.

He says this to me all the time lately. I have technically never said it back.

“Me too,” I respond quickly because that’s basically the same thing, right? I have convinced myself of that. My mind has gone to so many places while he is inside me, thrusting away. I just keep both of my hands on his back and encourage him. He moans and groans and I try to do the same. I don’t think I am feeling what I should be feeling, but then again I don’t really have a lot to compare this to. A life of swimming leaves little time for dating, much less s*x. Declan climaxes, releasing into me and he gently falls on top of me. He rolls over onto his back.

“Was that good?” he asks. “So much better without the condom, right?” His voice is husky.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” I say, hoping I sound convincing. What I am really thinking is, good thing I am on birth control. We usually double up and use a condom but every now and then he “forgets.” Something about the skin on skin contact.

Declan reaches for his bottle of water on the nightstand and hands it to me. I take a sip and stand up; I take off my bra and lay it on top of the dresser. I open the top-drawer pull out a pair of his boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. I bring them into the bathroom, along with my underwear and change. I use the bathroom, wash my face and brush my teeth with the extra toothbrush I keep here. When I return to the bed, Declan is already asleep, naked. I hate when he does that. I have told him countless times to change back into his boxers before falling asleep after s*x. It’s just a thing I have I guess. I switch off the music from his iPhone. I crawl into bed, careful not to disturb him and rollover onto my side, facing away from him. I glance at the clock on the nightstand, 2:03 a.m. I keep thinking about that woman, she was very attractive and I have never had anyone, man or woman for that matter, smile and wink at me like that. The intensity with which she regarded me was smoldering. She was a stranger. I can’t help but wonder if she knows who I am. I can feel my obsession with her slowly start to grow. I need to know. I have to know. But right now I need to sleep.

* * *

As I wake to the sun coming in through the window, I am comforted by the fact that I did not have any nightmares last night, at least any that I can remember. Declan is already up and probably watching ESPN in the living room. It’s Saturday, college football day. I slide out of bed, feeling tired after a restless night’s sleep, and grab my dress. I step into the bathroom, the cold tile under my bare feet sends a shiver through my body. I brush my teeth and change into my dress from last night. As a way to maintain boundaries, I don’t keep spare clothes at Declan’s place. I don’t want to encourage anything yet; the toothbrush alone was a big step. I walk out of the bedroom down the hall and into the kitchen. I see Declan on the couch and as suspected, ESPN on the TV.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” he teases too cheerfully. “Sleepy head? What time is it anyway?”

“10:00 a.m.”

“Really? Wow that’s definitely sleeping in for me!” I yawn.

“Must have tired you out last night, huh?” He muses with a sly smile. “Oh yeah, must have been you,” I say trying to force a smile.

“You want some tea? Breakfast?”

“Oh no, I am supposed to meet my mom for lunch at 1:00 p.m. at Bandera,” I reply hurriedly.

“Okay, call you later then?”

“Sure. Actually, I’ll call you when I get a chance. After lunch we might do a little shopping. I’ll let you know.” I start to walk toward the front door, until Declan stands. He walks over to me and puts his arms around my waist. He gives me a small kiss on the lips.

“Okay, sounds good. Have fun and I will talk to you later then.” He brushes the hair off my forehead.

“Okay,” I agree as I pull away from him and continue to walk towards the door. Declan quickly catches up to me and unlocks the front door and opens it. He mouths, “love you” as I walk through to the stairway.

“Me too,” I yell back and I start down the stairs. Its almost like I’m running out of there. I hear the door close and lock behind me and it’s almost a relief. I have been feeling this way for sometime now, but for some reason the events of last night have really amplified these feelings. Now I have to meet my mother and she will no doubt ask me how things are going with Declan. The question is do I tell her the truth? And what is the truth exactly? I am very close with my mother but there are still some things that I hesitate to share.

I exit the building onto Roscoe Street and am able to catch a cab with ease. On the ride to my place in Lincoln Park, I ponder what my mother will think if I ask questions about love and tell her how I have been feeling about Declan. And what about the woman at the bar? Do I even bring that up? Is it weird? She will just tell me I am being paranoid and say the same thing she always says, “Celebrity and fame has a way of bringing out the crazies”. In a way she is right, I know this. While swimming in London, I received my fair share of weird and just plain disturbing mail. From a picture of a guy’s p***s to a letter filled with words cut out from magazines, arranged to relay the message, “I’ll be watching you in your swim suit at the

Olympics along with my bag of tricks,” I am the poster child for creepy fans. Even the other swimmers had shared stories that were similar to mine. And they were right when they told me not to worry, it passes or fades and stalkers move on to someone else. I stopped receiving letters when the Olympics concluded.

The cab driver pulls up to my condo on Webster. I pay him and hop out. It is a beautiful sunny day, “football weather” as my dad would call it. I walk up to the front door of the building and unlock it with my key. I head over to the elevator and press the ‘up’ button. It opens immediately and I take it to the fourth floor. I unlock my front door, close and lock the door behind me. Ahhh, I love my condo. I bought it two years ago and I just love it. It’s totally my style, two-bed, two-bath with a great kitchen and lots of natural light. The living room is large enough for my sectional couch and I love curling up on it and watching a good movie, when I have the time. I head past the kitchen, down the hall, passing the first bedroom and bathroom until I reach my master bedroom. I de-robe, tossing my dress into the laundry bin inside the walk-in closet.