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Espresso & Sex
Tales of divorce — Journal entry # 73
** I have nothing to teach you in this entry. It was written for my own healing and recommended by my therapist to work with some shame and guilt I am healing and to recall moments I ran from feelings. If you read this, don’t say I didn’t warn you. All names have been changed for privacy***
I wake up at 5:17 am. Not an easy task, given the night I had just had and the warmth of the satin sheets and massive bed I was in. Wait, where was I?
Jenny rolls into the bedroom and hands me a shot of espresso.
“ You’re alive,” she says. “ It’s time to go.”
I sit up naked and confused. She’s fully dressed: tight black shirt and white button-down. Mostly I’m still in a state of orgasmic bliss.
“ What happened last night? “ I ask.
The fiery brunette was different. Replaced by a woman forced into her masculine power, ready to start her day.
“Last night was amazing! Like, just what I needed.” But she looked troubled.
“Did I do something?” I said. “Oh no, you were great! Some of the best sex and fun I’ve had in a long time. But I need someone to tell me how the fuck I ended up with a writer in my bed while my husband is away on a work trip?
