Body Image

"I've canceled my clients for this afternoon," she said simply.

There was an awkward silence that Kathleen did not rescue him from. She had made their whole relationship easy for the selfish son-of-a-bitch. She wasn't going to make this part easy.

"Oh," Michael said. He looked at his watch. "I really should be getting back."

"How about one last drink before you go. For old time's sake?"

"Look Kathleen, I think its best…"
Kathleen cut him off. "Don't worry Michael. I have no intention of creating a scene. I just want fifteen minutes to change your mind…"

"Kathleen I'm not going to change my mind."

"Maybe not, Michael. But after everything I've been through for you, I think you owe me at least that much. I could have caused a lot of trouble. I still can. But I haven't. I've tried to do the right thing in a very difficult situation. I think you can at least show me the same consideration."

Michael couldn't argue with that. He sat down at the edge of the couch that he would one day soon get to know all too well and waited as Kathleen returned with a pair of drinks that already seemed to have been prepared. As she approached, her robe opened a little with each step and Michael found his gaze traveling from the tips of her slender toes to the cool white inside of her thighs. He was going to miss that body. Damn, he was going to miss sex with Kathleen. He had never met anyone who was so empathetic in bed. She seem to know everything he wanted without him having to say a word. Was he making a mistake? Did he really want to stop seeing her?

He had to stop thinking like this. He loved his wife. He wanted to save his marriage. Christine had given him an ultimatum. Her—or me. Michael had made his choice. It was difficult but it was final. It was—

He saw the side of Kathleen's breasts in the "v" of her robe, felt her warmth, smelled her sweet scent—