Shoe Strings

didn’t need until
she got things straightened out with her father.   Oh, why couldn’t he have waited a few
days to show up?   She tried Sophie
again and, upon getting no answer, threw her phone in her purse as she pulled
into her parking garage.
    She smelled him as she ascended the stairs to her condo,
just a hint of the scent she’d always recognize as his.   Her knees shook as she rounded the
corner and saw him, pacing back and forth in front of her door.   He wore jeans, a tattered t-shirt, and a
brooding expression.   His head
whipped up when he saw her.
    He didn’t speak for a long moment.   Neither one of them moved--her clutching
the handrail, him with his hands in his pockets.   “Angelita.”   The sound of his voice felt like a
feather over her skin.  
    “Jesse.”   She
walked to him, watched as he stood still, brow furrowed.   “What are you doing here?”
    “I have several reasons for coming, but first…” He clutched
her face in his hands and dove at her lips, drank like he was dying of thirst,
and stole every coherent thought from her head.   Her purse slipped from her shoulder and
onto the floor, its contents scattering along the hardwoods unnoticed.   She couldn’t touch him fast enough,
couldn’t get enough of his taste, his skin.   He pushed her back against the door.   “Open it, for God’s sake,” he sputtered
as his mouth played her throat like a flute.  
    She fumbled for her purse, realized it sat open on the
floor, and used the tip of her snakeskin wedge to nudge the keys to within
reach.   She had the door unlocked in
a second.
    “We’re going to finish this, Angelita.”   The door sprang open and they flung
themselves inside.   She saw her
wallet and cell phone lying in the hallway and pointed with a strangled whimper
as Jesse made quick work of the tie on her shirt.   “Hurry,” he gasped.
    She kicked her things into the condo, slammed the door
behind her, and pushed him against the door.   “Now.”   She slid his shirt over his head.   How could she be so starved for his
touch, his mouth, his body when it had only been days and not the years it felt
like?   Her hands took expeditious
care of his jeans and, as he ripped her shirt in two, his hands fisted in her
hair and his rasping groan sounded more like pain than pleasure.   She knew he was angry, could see it in
his eyes when she’d approached, felt it in the rough way he touched her.   He’d never been rough with her before,
but now, with so much unspoken between them, she craved it.  
    He reversed their positions and, with his hands cradled
under her ruffle hemmed skirt, plunged into her waiting body.   She bucked, he thrusted, she cried out,
he covered her scream with his mouth, he quickened the pace, she gripped his
shoulders for support.   Together
they found the answer they’d searched for and slumped to the tile floor,
exhausted.   
      “I can’t believe
you’re here,” she said when she could speak without gasping.   He lay half beneath her, his eyes
closed, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with her scattered brain.
    When he opened his eyes, she saw the anger return in the
evening light that slanted across his face.   “You didn’t leave me much choice but to
track you down.”   He sat up on his
elbows, thereby causing her to do the same.   “You’ve got some explaining to do.”
    “I know.”   She
attempted to button her top.   She
gave up when she realized he’d popped most of the buttons off in his haste to
get at skin.   She stood up awkwardly
after pulling her skirt down from around her navel and sliding out of her
shoes.   “Can I get you something to
drink?   Are you hungry?”
    He snapped his jeans and looked at her through eyes as
stormy as the rain she’d driven through to get home.   “I want answers and you’re going to give
them to me.”
    “Yes.   Come sit
down so we can talk.”   She led him
to the couch.   Despite literally
peeling themselves off each other moments ago, wariness settled between them
like an intruder.  
    He sank into the corner, she sank into the opposite
corner.   He rubbed his hands over
his face, took a deep breath, and looked her square in the eye.   “Why’d you leave without saying anything
to me?”
    “I…” How could she explain when she didn’t know
herself?   “I needed to get home and
deal with some stuff.”
    “You couldn’t explain before you left?   Did you have to sneak away?