Photography by Allie Hincks

I’ve been thinking of him all day, thinking of all the things he’s done to me. I haven’t been able to focus in class. The professor’s words string together into a monotonous drone and all my thoughts are focused on him once again. So many emotions are worming their way through me. I feel the guilt and shame of our secrets. I feel the unbridled passion and obsessive lust. The feelings are swirling inside me and I decide once again that what we’re doing is wrong, even if it feels so mind-blowingly good. I’ll tell him tonight, I have to tell him it’s over.

The ride to his home is silent, but not awkward. Anticipation and desire fill every inch of the car. We enter his room without a word. The room smells of stale sex. He’s been with her again. He won’t have me tonight, not while he still smells of her. I sit cross-legged on his bed, arms folded, with my best ‘uninterested’ face. He won’t have me tonight. He sits down beside me on the bed, laying his hand on my thigh. Its warmth spreads up my leg to other places. I begin to think of other places that hand could go. No, I think, not tonight. I snap my thoughts back together. He probably did the exact same thing to her earlier today. His hand begins to move along my leg in an unpresumptuous way. Maybe he isn’t trying to get some; maybe he’s just being friendly. That idea quickly fades as he sweeps my hair aside and gently kisses my neck. Thoughts of our bodies intertwined flash through my mind and my bottom lip quivers. He won’t have me tonight, I think without any real resolution, not while he still smells of her. I can’t hold back anymore. Thoughts of his wife fade away as I let him take me once again.