Page 49 of Smut Lovers

I felt his hands behind me. He had grabbed the soap and was making circles on my back.

I let him wash me from my neck to my feet, reach around my waist to soap up my genitals, even put a soapy finger in my ass.

I didn’t turn around. I couldn’t even look at him.

He took the shower head and rinsed me off.

Then he reached around me to shut off the shower.

He nudged my shoulder, then took my arm.

I didn’t resist him leading me out of the bathroom.

Greg laid me down on the bed facedown and grabbed the oil.

He began to knead my joints as he moisturized my skin.

He massaged me from the back of my neck, down to my feet.

Then he turned me over and went up my body: legs, thighs, penis, stomach, chest, and arms. When he was done, he simply laid beside me. Waiting for me.

I reached for him. He immediately came closer. We kissed. Softly. Sweetly. He whispered on my mouth, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, my Bonito.”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t ready to forgive. But I quietly decided to at least forget it.

For now.

Two days later, I was driving to work listening to Spotify when a WhatsApp message popped up on my car screen. I pressed the Read button on the screen, but it wasn’t a message. It was a voice note. That made me curious.

I pulled over, and looked at my phone. It was an international number. I immediately knew it was Rob. A small feeling of guilt passed over me. I shouldn’t have told him , I thought. That was messy. Then I remembered that I wasn’t the one who did anything wrong.

I pressed play. There was just breathing, then a huge inhale of breath and an exhale. Then a broken voice spoke.

“He lied to me for two years. Then he lied to me for two days. I just left… I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him, knowing what he did.

” He sniffed. “I’m at a resort in Iquitos.

” He sniffed again. Another long pause. “Did you mean it? Did you mean it when you said what you wanted me to do to you? Payback for what they did to us? Because if you did…. Then meet me in Iquitos.” The message ended.

I didn’t hesitate. I typed the words:

I’m coming.

It was immediately read.

I sat on the side of the road on Roosevelt Boulevard and looked up flights to Iquitos, having no ideas where it was or how long it would take me. But I knew I was going.

The plane lands at 2:55 p.m. Jorge Chavez International Airport. Peru is the same time zone as Philadelphia so that helps me to keep track.

The flight was leaving at 5:40 a.m. out of JFK to Lima so I planned to be there by 2 a.m. to catch it.

At first I wasn’t going to say anything.

I had secretly packed a bag and put it in the car.

But I laid there listening to Greg’s snoring like everything was hunky-fucking-dory in our lives and I couldn’t stand it.

I went downstairs, grabbed a pen and paper and started writing.

Now, as I sit in the airport lounge drinking strong brewed South American coffee, waiting for my next flight, I envision Greg opening up the letter after he dropped the girls off at school.

He doesn’t go to work. He absolutely called out of work.

His anxiety would not allow him to focus all day.

He had to know if I had left him for good.

So he came back to the quiet house, I’m sure of it. And he sat on my side of the bed. He probably stared at it for a long time, trying to decide if it was better to know or not know, like Schrodinger’s cat. Eventually he took it in his trembling hands, and he read my words to him.

Do you remember when I came to your dorm room that night and asked if I could keep you?

I knew that Jesse had given you that ultimatum, to choose him or me, and couldn’t bear the thought of you not choosing me.

Not after all we had been through up until that moment.

Me taking you to your doctor’s appointments.

When we took the road trip to Chicago for you to come out to your family as bisexual.

The many times we slept in the same bed and just held each other.

The nights we whispered secrets to each other.

It was only after you agreed to be mine, that we made love. All day. All night.

I love you so much. I think I loved you from the day Jesse plopped you on my couch after getting you from the hospital for alcohol poisoning.

Jesse had told me about his friend who had a bipolar mother, and an abusive father, and was clinically depressed.

That you used alcohol and unsafe sex as a way to cope with all the shitty things you had been through in your life.

And I thought to myself, that guy is a fucking mess.

But when he brought you home, I watched you sleep, and I knew I wanted to take care of you.

I knew I was the only one who could. I knew you just needed someone to love you and believe in you.

And I vowed to be that person for you, forever and always.

For fourteen years you were mine. For six of those fourteen years you proudly wore your wedding ring. Taking my last name, becoming Gregory Fortune-DeRossi, proving to the world that you were mine. And we created a beautiful family, a beautiful life.

But that comfort, safety, stability, the bond that we developed over the years, you just threw it all away. And for what? For Jesse?

Was it worth it?

Doesn’t matter if it was or wasn’t. All that matters now is that I need to do something about it.

I need the next couple of days to figure out if I can live with it.

If I can forgive you. If I can’t forgive you, and we do marriage counseling.

If I can’t live with it, and need to file for divorce. If I’m going to even the playing field.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. I honestly don’t know. But I know I do not want to hear from you. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. Give me the space I need to figure things out. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll come home to you.

After I wrote the letter, I went upstairs to our bedroom. Greg was still fast asleep. I placed the letter on my bedside table, then went to the girls’ room to kiss their sleeping heads.

I went back downstairs and out the front door. I got in my car and drove toward I-95 North to head to New York to catch my flight from JFK.

It is going to be at least a six-hour layover, and the second flight to Iquitos is going to be about two hours, so I decide to leave the airport. I walk around aimlessly and find a nearby bar. I drink for a while. Probably more than I should.

A man sits next to me. I don’t even look at him until he mutters something in English.

“Are you from the States?” I find myself asking.

“Hm,” he says, sipping his frosted beer. “California. But my parents are Peruvian so it helps with my business.” He takes another sip and turns to me. “On vacation?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m here to cheat on my husband.”

He double blinks at me. “Well alright then,” he says with amusement in his voice. “Any prospects so far?”

“Yes, but not here. He’s in Iquitos.”

“It’s a beautiful area, you’ll love it there.” Then he takes a sip and says, “But I guess you’re not going for the views.”

“No. I’m not.”

We drink in silence for a moment. Then he says, “The view behind this bar is good too.”

I chuckle. “Fuck it,” I slur out. “Let’s go.” I put a hundred dollars on the counter to pay for his and my drinks.

I follow him outside and through a narrow alley to go around the bar. He pushes me against the brick wall and kisses me. It’s nothing like Greg’s kisses, but I kiss him back. He gets on his knees, opens up my buckle, and takes out my cock.

Anxiety and guilt run through me. “Wait, wait,” I try to say, but he has already sucked me once, twice, three times.

I let him do it a few more times with my eyes squeezed shut. Then I realize we’re in the same position Greg had me in the last time we had sex. The same position Jesse had Greg in.

“Stop,” I say loudly, and push his shoulder back.

He looks up. “What? I thought you wanted to cheat.”

“Not like this,” I tell him. “I want revenge. An eye for an eye. This feels like overkill. This feels like cheating.”

He looks at me confused. I stuff my semi-hard cock back in my briefs and leave the man in the alleyway, heading back to the airport.

When I arrive at Coronel FAP Francisco Secada Vignetta International Airport, I realize I have no idea where I’m going. I text a simple message:

I’m here.

It’s not read yet.

I went to a booth in the airport that housed all touristy information and ask about the different resorts in the area.

The nice lady hands me a list of five resorts.

I sit on the nearest bench and take my time going through them all.

Three of them are high priced hotels, and of the other two, only one looks fancy enough where Rob would be.

I leave the airport with the intention to find a cab to take me there.

But my phone buzzes in my pocket as I lift my hand to summon one. I pull it out.

[Irapay Amazon Lodge - Asociado Casa Andina]

Different hotel. I responded: [omw]

I flag down the cab and tell him the name of the hotel. It’s not too far from the airport. When I get there I go straight to the desk, and use my rudimentary Spanish and a little Italian to say, “Mi serve una habitación para la notte .” I’m positive I fucked that up.

He smiles and says in English, “ID please.”

I hand my passport to the man. He begins to enter my information, then his forehead wrinkles. “Did you want an additional room?”

I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

“You already have a cabin here in your name. Bonito DeRossi. It’s paid up for two nights.”

“Wha…. Who….” I sigh. “Okay.” I tap my fingers on the counter and look around the lobby. It is almost 11 p.m. but the bar was full and music was playing. I turn back at the receptionist. “I guess I’m checking in.”

“Excelente.”