My Sexy Awakening

New Beginnings

The following day Tom inspected the place and encouraged me to buy it, so immediately, I made an offer. A few hours later, I received a phone call from Alexandra, the real estate agent that showed me the cottage. Alexandra told me that she talked to the owner about my "situation" and wanted to help me out, so he decided to sell the place to me without delay.

I could not believe it! She even said I could move into the cottage when the paperwork was ready, even if the transaction was not finalized. She ended the call saying that her brother also experienced heartbreak recently and hurt her, seeing how much pain he endured. She explained that over this experience, she learned that she is an excellent listener so that whenever I needed someone to talk to, I could give her a call.

I thanked Alexandra from the bottom of my heart and asked her if she could give me the phone number of the owner of the cottage to thank him for his consideration and care, but she immediately said no. She explained that he is a very private man, so reserved that his name was not even in the paperwork. She suggested that I write him a thank you note instead that she promised to deliver promptly.

What started as a thank you note to the cottage's seller ended up being an extensive, detailed letter. In it, I told him about my happy childhood, my love for Chestnut Park, the pain of feeling uprooted and losing my parents, and the insecurities that my cheating ex made me feel. I told him how important it was for me to achieve my dream of living here and how grateful I am. I promised him that he just had to ask if he ever needed help with anything. I don't know why, but I imagined that the cottage owner was probably a fatherly figure with lots of experience and a huge heart. In a way, I wrote the letter as if I was communicating with my late father. I felt that writing this letter had a healing effect.       

A few weeks after, I moved into the cottage. I was the happiest woman in the world. I loved the place dearly; it felt like home. I made an extra effort to decorate the patio. It was relatively small, but it was enough to have a dining set, a sofa, a coffee table, and a hammock. It soon became my favorite place; I did all my reading and working there. I generally had breakfast and lunch at the patio. After sunset, I relaxed, drinking a St. Germain on the rocks.

At the end of my first week, on Friday night, I was having a cup of tea on the patio when something called my attention. I heard strange noises behind the tall, picketed fence separating my cottage from my neighbors' property. At first, I was not sure what it was. But after a couple of minutes shamelessly eavesdropping, I could recognize the unmistakable sounds of s*x.

Moaning, cursing, and panting, interrupted only by a female voice asking for more. "So eager," a baritone's man voice replayed. Breathings increased pace with every passing second until both exploded, right after the woman said, "this was the best orgasm of my life." "I told you I was good," he said. After a pause, her response was loud and clear "you are not just good. You are the f*****g best."  

The activities on the other side of the fence made me hot and bothered. But I also couldn't stop wondering why I never felt or sounded like this woman. Even if I got off, I never got to the point where I felt an unstoppable climax building. This was either because I was a "frigid" woman, as my ex so eloquently put it, or because the cheating bastard never put enough time and effort to allow me to get there. Either option made me feel pathetic. Suddenly, everything became too much to bear. Sadness took over, while I thought if a different outcome could ever be possible for me.