While I put away my coffee cup and look out my kitchen window I see a grey car driving off. There are two kids in the backseat. It is almost dark outside but I can see that the woman driving is not amused. I see my neighbour giving a lazy wave and then he turns around towards his house. Suddenly, we make eye contact. I feel somewhat caught and give him a weak wave. We didn’t have a lot of interaction, this past year. We know each other’s first name but that’s about it. They moved in here a little over a year ago. He worked a lot. She was always home looking after the kids. I could hear them arguying through the walls of my house, cursing and screaming. My kids often asked me what was going on nextdoor. I tried to explain to them that sometimes, married couples argue. Then it turned out they got a divorce. One of my kids overheard them arguing outside their front door and soon after she took her stuff and left. You see, mom? That much arguing isn’t normal. My kids were right, I guess. However, if my ex and I had fought some more, maybe we would have been together today.
My ex and I were so called high school sweethearts. Dating since we were 16 and 17, we knew each other from our secondary school. We were super fond of each other. Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough to keep our marriage intact. After the kids came we got stuck in a rut. We couldn’t escape the dreary life that we had created with one another and we got stranded. He left the house more and more, worked a lot, you know how it goes. I was at home with the kids, working at home three days a week writing for a magazine. Eventually, we just grew apart. He fell in love with someone else. Thank God it wasn’t his secretary, I wouldn’t have been able to handle that cliché. He secretly signed on to Tinder and got a connection with a woman who lived a couple of villages away. She was divorced, pretty and a few years my junior. I was disappointed. I get why he did what he did. I wish I had had the guts to do the same.
We had been divorced for two years now and in the meantime I had only had a few failed attempts at dates. All the men that were (still) single either had baggage the size of a trunk or there was something else the matter with them. Tinder just wasn’t for me. I sometimes recognised men from the schoolyard and I just didn’t want to become the other woman myself. So, I was still single. And fucking ready to mingle. MY GOD how long has it been since I last had sex? I don’t dare calculate. Has it been over a year already? The only thing I use for my satisfaction is my Womanizer. You know, that clit-sucking vibrator. That thing is my best friend. Orgasm guaranteed.
Today, my kids went to their dad straight out of school. I have the house all to myself and I purposefully didn’t make any plans tonight. My article is done and I demonstratively shut my laptop with a bang. I walk past a mirror and check my reflection. My leggings are looking comfy, my t-shirt is loose and simple, my hair is up in a bun held together by a clip. I walk towards my cupboard and look at my wine glasses. White, or red? I decide to take a big wine glass and open a bottle of Merlot. While I put the cork on the counter I start pouring. The glass is half full when I stop. Okay, just a little. When I look at the bottle I see that it’s already almost halfway empty. I shrug. Whatever. I can’t help the fact that they made these glasses so big. While I leisurely make my way over to the sofa and sit down in a Lotus position, I cover my legs with a blanket as I try to think of what I want to do. I put down my wine glass and take the remote in my hand. Netflix pops on my screen and I scroll through my watchlist. I fancy none of the things in my list and decide to put on a stupid romcom, just to serve as some background noise to my drinking. I pull out the clip that held my hair up and let it fall freely down to my shoulders. I run one of my hands through my hair to free it from my scalp. Then I take another big gulp of wine. Weekend. I love the taste of it.
Halfway through my movie everything gets pitch-black. Are. You. Kidding. Me. Everything is dead, even the fridge is silent. God damn it. I curse as I put my glass on the coffee table. I irritably toss aside my blanket and head towards the fuse box. I turn things on, off, on and off again. Nothing. I get my phone out and google ‘power outage Breda’. One result of someone who has reported the same problem – I guess some people are even easier to annoy than me. Nowhere does it say what it was caused by or how long it will last. Suddenly I realise I still have some food in my freezer. Please, power, come back. I don’t want to go grocery shopping again. I walk back to my kitchen and get a lighter from a drawer. One by one, I light four candles throughout the kitchen and livingroom so I can at least see where I’m going. I decide to light a candle in the hallway as well. I mumble another curse word and then I hear two knocks on my front door. They scare me beyond compare and a little scream escapes my lips. I swing the front door open, lighter in hand like a deadly weapon. I gaze directly into the big, apologizing, brown eyes of the guy next door. Sorry, neighbour, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you going to set me on fire? He is joking with me. I quickly toss the lighter aside and laugh stupidly. I came to ask if I was the only one without power at home. He looks at my candle. I guess not. I also look at my candle. Jup, you guessed right. I get a little uncomfortable, standing in the doorway. Would you like a glass of wine, while we wait out the power outage? Fuck. That really just came out of my mouth.
First, he looks a bit puzzled but soon he nods his head. I step back and hold my arm out as an invitation. Entrez vous, monsieur. My God girl, could you sound even more retarded? I realise my nerves are caused by the fact that no single man has stepped foot in this house for a long time. I see he holds back a smile when he steps through the door. I smell his perfume. Spicy and manly. I feel a tingle in my belly. While he hangs his coat I walk past him to the livingroom. I like the candles, he says. I found out I dind’t have one single candle at home, my ex used to buy those kind of things. I feel a bit sorry for him. I know exactly how he feels. As a married couple, soms tasks are just naturally divided between the two of you. I can see myself now, the first few months after my divorce. Running after the garbage truck in my bathrobe and slippers, trash bag in hand and cursing loudly. I smile at him. Well, then it’s good that you’re here. He nods. Wine? I nod towards my glass that is still on the coffee table. He says yes. I take another big glass out of the cupboard, this time for him. I pour the wine in until it’s halfway full and I walk towards the sofa, where he looks pretty comfortable already. While I pick up my own glass he raises his towards mine. Cheers. To, eh, the power outage. Yes, cheers. Our glasses touch and for a moment we drink in total silence. So, you also have two kids, right? He breaks the ice. Yes, they’re now 8 and 10 years old. What about yours? Mine are 9 and 11. We both nod. Pretty close in age, I remark. Yeah, they sure are, he agrees.
I decide to take a risk and ask about his divorce. This is the start of a very personal conversation. He tells me about his wife and that he caught her cheating on him with his best friend. They stayed together, because of the kids. However, they never stopped fighting. His trust in her was so damaged that they weren’t able to glue the fragments of their marriage back together. When he found a message from his friend on her phone about half a year later he was done. The divorce was brutal. She wanted to ruin him because HE was the one leaving HER. Everything was his fault, even the fact that she cheated. While he was talking I studied him intently. His dark hair was cut stylishly. Short in the neck and longer on top, his thick dark curls held together by wax. His dark brows were serious and sometimes sad while he told me about his failed marriage. His lips were full, his cheeks smooth. As far as I could see, his body looked fine. He wasn’t built like a body builder but hey, who looked like an Instagram model at the age of 40, am I right? I had no right to say anything as I thought about my own body, having had two kids and an insatiable need for chocolate. He had one of those dad bods. Athletic, big arms but no visible sixpack. How about you? He’s talking to you, you idiot! I pry my eyes away from his arms and feel caught when I look into his eyes. I mumble something about being distracted. He has a crooked smile. Then he starts to laugh out loud, the corners of his eyes attractively creasing. I feel even guiltier and take a big swig of my wine. I’m sorry, okay! He is still laughing a bit. Don’t worry about it. I was also kind of studying you, this whole time. I take a sigh of relief and I look at him from the corner of my eye. I smile shyly as I put a lost lock of raven hair behind my ear.
Suddenly he takes the hand that’s holding my wine into his and gently guides my glass towards the coffee table. He maintains eye contact. I am complient as I let him move my hand, my mouth slightly opens in anticipation. In one fell swoop he leans over and starts kissing me, right on the lips. At first I only feel his thick lips against mine, soon his tongue follows. I start to breathe faster as I let my hands go up his arms, all the way up to his neck. I feel his short hair underneath my fingers, it feels funny and nice at the same time. Our kiss grows more passionate, more compelling. I see the candlelight flickering behind his head and upper body as he carefully pushes his body weight against my chest. He softly forces me on my back and positions his lower body between my legs. I can feel his hard dick rubbing against my leggings, touching my fabric covered pussy. While we are kissing he keeps pressing his bulge against me. The tension rises. I moan a bit while I put my left hand on his butt cheek and pull him in even closer. He supports his upper body on his strong arms and rhytmically moves his dick over my clitoris. His breathing is becoming heavier in between our kisses. I become impatient and start pulling on his belt buckle. He raises his chest and our kiss is broken. He takes off his shirt and tosses it to the side. Afterwards he pulls my t-shirt over my head and also throws it to the side of the sofa. I snap off my bra and he starts pulling down his pants. His pants, boxershorts and socks are on the floor. In a swift move he pulls my leggings from below my back all the way up to my feet. My panties soon follow. I look at his body. Dad bod? Fuck no. This dude looks good. I look down at his dick. It’s sticking out to the front, super hard. I like the way it looks. When he lays back on top of me he starts to kiss my neck. I feel the head of his penis sporadically against my wet vagina. The feeling drives me crazy with longing. He slides down just a little bit and touches my pussy with his fingers. He is taking his time, no matter how excited he obviously is. He kisses my breasts and takes my nipples in his mouth. His warm spittle and thick lips feel so good on my naked boobs. He pushes his middle finger inside of me. I let out a little moan. With his thumb he stimulates my clitoris. Not too fast, not too hard. Just right.
When he slides his finger out of me he hoists himself up on his arms so that his upper body hovers above me. I move my hand in between our lower bodies and take his warm, hard dick in my hand. I stroke it a little while I look him in his eyes. His eyes are dark and sultry. I then guide him towards my pussy. He presses against it and slowly starts sliding in. He pushes one, two, three times, all the while going in a bit deeper. I feel full and hot. He keeps playing with my boobs, sometimes interrupting our kiss to suck on one of my nipples. His lower body keeps going by my clitoris with every pump. We are entangled, my legs are around his waist again. I lift my hips a bit to feel him deeper inside of me. I want to feel his skin rub against my clit. His dick is perfect. I start to feel reckless as my hips move against his lower body in the rhythm of his slow thrusts. The tension in my belly starts to rise. A tingling sensation moves from my clit towards the rest of my body. Go on, I demand. Don’t stop. Please keep fucking me like this. He gets encouraged by my pleads and keeps his rhythm going, all the while stroking my clit and letting his dick slide in and out of me. My breathing gets heavier and my sole focus is the pleasure that’s building up inside of me. I erupt in a fucking delicious orgasm. My eyes close shut and I can feel my legs trembling. He keeps pumping and sending these waves of pleasure throughout my entire body. He is moving a little faster now, more urgent. Then I hear him moan, loudly. He puts his forehead against mine, his eyes pressed shut and his mouth slightly ajar while he orgasms as well. I still feel his hard dick inside of me while he kisses me on the mouth again, slower and softer this time. He pulls out and I feel some of his sperm trickling down my thigh. He kisses me again, on my breasts. I run my hands through his thick dark hair and enjoy the feeling. I feel warm, tired and satisfied.
Suddenly, all the lights come back on.