Muse Monday: A Fresh Coat of Paint

Everyone should fuck an ex at least once after you’ve broken up. Sure, there are situations where that just isn’t possible, but as we bottle emotions of anger and disappointment, we surely bottle some passion—even if that does seem long gone.

Thanks to Venice Bloggs for sharing this hot pic.

A Fresh Coat of Paint

“Why did you come here?”

Her tone is a bit too challenging for my liking.

“Just because we share friends still, doesn’t mean we should still show up at everything. This is all too fresh.”

Sigh. When won’t it be too fresh.

I am more and more convinced that they all concocted this stupid game just to make Allison and I talk. Force us to talk. How could we not, we’re locked in a closet.

As soon as she arrived, we locked eyes and I’m sure our scowls matched. I didn’t think she’d come. She surely doubted I’d show up.

She is right, it is too fresh. I had, literally, just repainted our apartment that day, to get rid of the horrible colour choices she’d made in our three years together. I fought back tears with every brush stroke.

We were all pretty drunk when a Spin the Bottle/Seven Minutes in Heaven mash-up was suggested. Allison and I had managed to avoid each other completely. We’re not the types to make a scene, either of us. We sat in the large circle, a couple of allies on either side of us, enjoying the fun. When it came time for her to spin, a knot of fear took over my stomach.

And now here we are, locked in a closet together, confined by mutual friends who just want us to be civil…maybe even friendly.

I make a move to that, reaching out to take her hand.

“We might never be alone like this again,” I offer to her. “Even if we don’t talk, can we just enjoy being close to each other.”

We are close. Our hosts hadn’t been prepared for an impromptu game so we were crammed in with coats and hangers.

She doesn’t remove her hand, instead she takes a step closer. And surprises me.

“We might never do this again either.”

And she kissed me. Gently. Softly.

All at once I was flooded with ever moment of passion we shared, every moment of anger at our end, every moment of sadness since she left. My fingers entwined with her’s to ensure she stay close. I didn’t want to lose any of those feelings.

And I kissed her back.

There were times in our life together that this kiss would have lead to shed clothes in seconds, orgasms shortly after, and then much more. At other times this kiss was an attempt to make amends for something one of us had done wrong—and as time passed, we both did plenty. Eventually, we shared one last kiss like this as she stood with her suitcase in hand at the door.

Or so I thought it was the last.

I don’t know how long we were in there before the knock came. Maybe it was because we were too quiet. But when the soft rap on the door startles us both back to reality, we opened our eyes…but didn’t part. Slowly, I back away, just enough to speak.

“We should go back out…are we good?”

She looks at me, smirks just a bit and nods. Suddenly her lips are on me again and this time I feel nothing but raw, sexual desire. And just as quickly, she pulls away, but catching my lip in her teeth. Holding it there, she winks.

Although we are only suspended there for a couple seconds, as she holds my tender lip in her sharp teeth, I feel more desire for her than I did the final year of our relationship. I want her here, now. Right now.

But she loosens her grip and I slip away. Instead she leans her forehead to mine, until they touch. She starts to push the door open.

“If those paint fumes are too much for you tonight, you’re welcome to come visit.”