She walked behind me as we entered my condo; both of our arms full of groceries. Taking them to the kitchen, I set the bags down and left her to put them away.
In my room, I removed the jacket and tie from work I was still wearing since I’d not taken the time to change before we left. Unbuttoning the top two buttons of my shirt, I looked at myself in the mirror.
I could hear her moving around in the other room. The pull I felt toward her continued to get stronger, as did the conviction I’d felt tonight at dinner. Somehow in all this mess I had falling in love with the woman now gracing my kitchen.
Running a hand through my already messy hair, I took a deep breath. I had no idea what I was going to do, no idea how to deal with these emotions I felt. Why did the first time I fell in love have to be with a woman who may never be capable of loving me back?
For one moment I let myself imagine what it would be like to have her feel for me what I did for her. To be able to show her how I felt. Just thinking about it made my heart race like never before.
The memory of her spread out naked on her bed flashed in my mind, and I had to force it away. As much as I wanted her, I couldn’t have her. I had to face the very real possibility that she would never want me like I wanted her. Never be able to look at me as anything more than the person who bought her.