Vacant(16)

"Do you want me to take you this way, or do you want to ride me, so I can see your tits bounce?" Ethan quickly adjusts himself so that he's sitting up. He pulls me into his lap. "Or maybe like this, so I can see your perfect face and the glisten of sweat that forms on your nose as you come?"

All of Ethan's dirty talk is driving me crazy, and quite frankly, I don't care how we get the job done because I'm ready to burst. He lies back, pulling me with him. His hands knead the flesh of my breasts as I moan and writhe on top of him. "I want to come inside you, baby," he pleads.

I'll never deny him.

As soon as we are connected again, we grasp hands, me using him for leverage. The first few times we did it this way, I felt self-conscious, but now I love the feeling of control and power I have to bring him to his end, to coax his lust and love from his body as it spills into mine.

I meet my climax first, but Ethan soon follows. We collapse together, me still on top of him. I hug him like a child hugs her favorite teddy bear, and feel safe, warm, and satisfied.

We lay together for a while, just caressing and kissing. It is always like this - the tenderness afterward. We'd never... deep breath... f*cked. I adored our lovemaking, but also wanted to know what it felt like to be taken in the dressing room of Victoria Secret or the bathroom stall at a nightclub. But we had time, time to experience all of those things. This was the end of one year in a long line of many. Margie says that's love and I just need to go with it. She explained there is a natural progression and I won't always ache for him. She explained that-- eventually, he'll just be a small pain in my ass.

"I love you, Ethan."

"I love you, Emily. Happy anniversary."

The last five years have been unbelievable in more ways than one. It's been a long, difficult road, no doubt about it. There's fighting...and making up, money problems and tears, but we always make it through, and we make it through together. We are, however, about to experience three of the biggest changes in our lives thus far.

Margie is retiring and a new manager will take her place. I'm pretty sure I know a candidate who is a shoe-in. Ethan has taken his duties as assistant manager very seriously. Margie confided to me that it would be a proud moment to see Ethan take her place. The salary increase was nothing to joke about either, and this promotion was enabling us to finally buy our own home. It wouldn't be fancy or lavish, but it would be ours.

Margie has been an enormous support system for both Ethan and me. She's stepped in as the mother figure we both needed as we transitioned to new parts of our lives. One could say that I should have been bitter about a "stand-in" mother, but I never saw it that way. She has been my savior more than once, but when I first met Margie, I wasn't sure what to think.

"Can I help you?"

"Well, I was looking for Ethan." The woman was small, but spoke with assurance. "Does he still live here?" I hadn't known what to tell her. It flashed through my mind when I answered the door that perhaps this was the landlord and someone had reported us. Ethan wasn't supposed to have anyone living with him. I shouldn't have cared if he got in trouble after the way he up and left me after I spilled my guts to him, but I just couldn't be angry with him - no matter how hard I tried.

"I'm Margie, Ethan's boss."

I stalled in answering her, debating whether I should invite her in.

"Dear...?"

"Oh, sorry - I'm uh..." I didn't know whether to give my real name. My gut told me that this woman was harmless.

"It's Emily." My mother taught me to never give more information than necessary.

"Well, Emily, it's a pleasure to meet you."

That day, Margie invited herself into the duplex and into my life. She was there to comfort me as I cried my eyes out and told her the events leading up to Ethan leaving. She hugged me and gave soothing words of encouragement; above all else, she assured me Ethan would return and that I just had to be patient.

She spoke about Ethan that afternoon as if he were her own son. There was never a disapproving word, only compliments and work anecdotes from the years she'd known him.

She was also there to support me through school. She insisted, along with Ethan, that I take full advantage of the scholarship I was given. She also wanted me to develop my interests and not just major in something so I could get a job. She told me to pursue what I loved; something I was passionate about.

"I think I know what I want to major in," I told Margie, the excitement of my revelation radiating in my tone.

"That's great, sweetie. Tell me."

"This lady came in today with a little boy with autism, and it was so fascinating to watch her interact with him. I think I want to learn more about children and disabilities." I was nervous about Margie's answer. Maybe she thought I was a little too ambitious or crazy even in regards to my career path. "What do you think?"

"I think we are lucky to have you, one of God's angels here on earth. You warm an old woman's heart, Emily. I can't think of a better career choice."

I finished school three years later with a degree in Early Childhood Special Education. Margie was there with Ethan on graduation day, and I think she was the loudest cheerleader in the auditorium.

"So, you really want to do this?"

I used to be the one that was so unsure of everything and looked to Ethan to be the decision maker. Now, it seems, the tables have turned. He's always looking to me for reassurance.