A single tear fell on my phone as I stared at those last five words.

The first time I read them, my heart shattered. The tears flowed. Now reading them for the millionth time, my heart remains numb. The waterfall of tears has become a single tear. Days have stretched into weeks and months. And yet, despite the pain, I foolishly cling to hope. Hope that today will be the day that he reads my response. Hope that today will be the day that he reaches out. Hope that somewhere deep down inside he loves me.

I first met Ben in the spring of 2020, as the world ground to a halt. We were both HR managers in our respective government departments. As our offices were shut down and workers were sent home, it fell to us to figure out how to safely keep our employees working and keep providing our services.

We started having biweekly Zoom meetings with all the HR managers to update our progress, compare what was working, what wasn’t working….standard stuff. Anyone who’s had to endure one of these work meetings knows that the highlight is not what is happening in the meeting, but rather what is happening in the text chain off-camera.

There were five of us, (the cool kids), who had started a group chat, where we tried to have a bit of fun while on these Zoom calls. We’d laugh about crazy things spouses or children were doing in the background, or about Fred forgetting he wasn’t wearing any pants as he got up to cross the room to retrieve a file—that kind of stuff. We desperately needed to laugh.

About three weeks into these meetings, one of our colleagues was replaced by a new guy. Ben. Our text chain started buzzing - who was this new guy? Anybody know him? What happened to Sara - was Ben her permanent replacement?

Our first impression of Ben was that he was a little cold and stiff, maybe even standoffish. He never seemed to smile. One of the cool kids knew him and vouched for him, even added him to the text chain, despite the misgivings of the rest of us.

As he got to know us, Ben loosened up, and quickly fit right in. The initial coolness was his shyness. Once he warmed up, his dry wit had us constantly in stitches, trying to keep straight-faced while on camera.

I was captivated by him and found myself wanting to know more about him and his life outside of work. I debated reaching out to him outside of the work chain. After one particularly hard day, with shaking fingers, I sent him a private text. It was a simple “Hey! How are you today?” He responded almost immediately.

It started out very innocent and professional, but soon there was a flirtatious tone developing. There was a palpable chemistry between us. We began to share the details of our lives. The more we learned, the more we wanted to learn. We started spending hours every day talking and texting - what else was there to do during lockdown?

We shared about our families. He was married with 3 children, while I had a partner and one son.

“Partner?” he asked. “Why didn’t you marry him?”

“It’s a long story,” I replied.

“I have nothing but time to kill. Tell me.”

So I did.

I met Mark twenty years ago. I’ll never forget that Friday night, sitting at a busy bar with my friend. He walked in with a group of lawyers, who had a large table reserved to celebrate a big win. He was seated directly in my line of sight.

He caught my eye immediately, but I quickly dismissed him. I knew the type - he was handsome and he knew it. His golden hair and sky-blue eyes were hard to miss. Add in the million-dollar smile with dimples, a well-tailored suit, and suave confidence that made women swoon… I was determined not to fall for him.

While all the other women tried to garner his attention, I ignored him. I left without looking at him again. The next Friday when I walked in, he was there. This time he was seated at the bar with a beautiful woman on each side of him, and one standing behind him. They were all riveted to whatever he was saying, laughing and touching his arm at the appropriate time.

My friend and I grabbed a free table towards the back. I purposely chose the side where my back would be to him. I had no interest in watching that show.

About thirty minutes into the evening, my friend excused herself to go to the bathroom. As I sat there alone, an arm reached past me to place a drink on the table.

“Thought you needed another drink,” said a smooth, unfamiliar voice.

I turned to see who it was, and my breath caught. Mark was standing there flashing me his sexy smile, his eyes twinkling. My body immediately responded with a shiver, awakening something deep inside me. That was it. I knew right then and there that I was powerless to resist him.

We started dating and immediately became inseparable. After a couple of years, all of our “couple” friends started to get married, which begged the inevitable question every time we attended a wedding of, “When are you two getting married?”

So one night after a particularly fun day at a wedding, I asked him. “Are we ever going to get married? Is that where you see this going?”

“No,” was Mark’s response. My breath stopped, and I froze like I had just been stabbed with a dagger. “Marriage is just a piece of paper. Who needs that?”

“Just a piece of paper?” I repeated in disbelief, my heart breaking. Those five little words had just crushed my dreams.

“Babe, I’m a lawyer. All I do some days is divorce proceedings. Why do you need that piece of paper? Isn’t it enough that I’m here because I choose to be, not because the government tells me to be?”

Looking back, that was the day I realized that he wasn’t all in. There was never a ring or a symbol of commitment. He never gave up his condo in town near his office. So when I ended up pregnant, he felt that I was trying to trap him. I wasn’t.

We’ve managed to work past that and live a good life as co-parents and as partners, but the physical relationship has fizzled out. Things were never quite the same.

Ben was silent for a few moments as he processed what I had told him. In an effort to re-engage him in the conversation, I posed the question, “How about you? What is your love story with your wife?”

“Not much of a story, really. We met in school and started dating. Like you, we watched our friends starting to get married, and it just seemed the right thing to do. I never had a ‘she’s the one’ moment. It just happened. We got married, had kids, and now here we are, barely ever physical with each other. I’m not sure we ever had any real passion.”

“That’s such a shame,” I said. Why did that thought secretly make me very happy?

After sharing our stories, the tone of our conversations changed. They became more sexual, our desire for each other reaching a boiling point.

Months passed and life started returning to a new normal. Every day there was time carved out for conversations with Ben. We grew closer and more passionate with each other, more intimate than we ever thought possible online.

“Are you going to the conference next month?” Ben texted about ten minutes after receiving the email inviting us to a national conference.

“Ummm….I don’t know yet. Are you?” I replied.

“Yes. You need to come. Meet me there.”

My body quivered at the thought of what he was suggesting. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I need you. You see, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

My heart soared. I was scared to death, yet exhilarated. Of course, I’d fallen in love with him too but couldn’t find the words at that moment. A simple, “Okay. I’ll be there,” was all I could reply.

The day finally arrived. Weeks of anticipation and planning had led to this moment. I arrived first at the hotel and checked in. I sent Ben a text. “Room 512.”

I waited anxiously for him to arrive. I fixed my hair and makeup for the tenth time. I checked my phone for what seemed like every two minutes. I paced. I tried to watch some TV. Anything to pass the time until he arrived.

Finally, there were three light knocks on the door.

My heart skipped a beat and my knees trembled. I took a deep, cleansing breath and opened the door with a shaking hand. After years of nothing but conversations, I was speechless as I looked into his eyes for the very first time.

They were a pale blue - almost grey. His dark hair was freshly cut in a short style, and his face was smoothly shaven. His shoulders were wide and strong and suited his six-foot frame perfectly. His hands were soft as they brushed my cheek, his touch searing my flesh and igniting the fire within me.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering above mine. His breath smelled of mints while his skin smelled like an intoxicating mix of soap, pine, and sweat. I wanted to soak in every feeling, every smell, every sound, every taste.

Finally, his lips found mine in a hungry kiss. He was real. He was here. My heart soared and my body cried out for his. A single tear of joy rolled down my cheek.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked as he wiped away my tear. “Do you want me to stop?”

I shook my head, “No. Don’t ever stop.”

Once again, his lips found mine as he walked me backwards towards the king-sized bed. We stopped at the foot of the bed, and Ben’s fingers started unbuttoning my blouse, sliding it off my shoulders. I watched the smile on his face as he discovered the sexy red bra underneath. In one of our conversations, he mentioned how he loved red lingerie, so of course I went shopping and bought some to wear for him. He traced a finger along the cups of my bra, making me shiver.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, as his eyes drank me in. My golden hair was falling softly on my shoulders, my deep emerald green eyes staring up at him, my lips swollen and full, my cheeks flushed, my DD breasts rising and falling with every anxious breath.

His hand reached for the waistband of my skirt, easing down the zipper and sliding it over my hips, letting it pool on the floor. I stood before him wearing only my new red bra and panties, feeling very self-conscious about my curves. Ben’s hands reached out and softly glided over my breasts, down my belly, over my hips, around to my ass, and back to caress the wet spot on the front of my panties.

“So perfect,” he whispered under his breath.

I exhaled slowly, seeing his reaction. He was here, and he really wanted me. I needed to pinch myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

My hands reached for the hem of his polo shirt, pulling it up over his head, and throwing it on the floor. My fingers found his chest, tracing his collarbone, roaming over his pecs, and pinching his nipples. I laid my hand flat against his chest over his heart so I could feel it beating. His was racing as fast as mine!

Feeling bolder and more confident with every passing moment, I moved my hands over his abs to that “V” that beckoned me. I unbuttoned his pants and slid down his zipper letting them fall to his ankles. My eyes were riveted to his hardened cock, barely contained in his tight boxer briefs. My finger traced its outline as I watched his eyes close.

I sank to my knees and slipped my hands under the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, and letting his cock spring free, hitting my cheek in the process. My hand closed around his hardness, getting my first feel of his soft skin and rock-hard shaft. I stroked him gently while my mouth found his smoothly shaven testicles, licking them before sucking one into my mouth and rolling it around with my tongue. There was a loud “pop” as I released it and sucked in the other ball.

Ben’s groans told me he was enjoying this as his hands ran through my hair. I released his ball and tilted his cock down to enter my mouth. His eyes locked on mine as inch after inch of his large cock disappeared into my mouth. I began sucking as he thrust his hips into my mouth.

I savoured the taste of him, my tongue exploring and memorizing every ridge, every vein. In no time, I could feel him tense, the telltale sign he was getting close to his release. So I stopped abruptly.

“Oh no you don’t!” I teased. “We talked about this. Your first orgasm is going to be while buried deep inside of me, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. It’s all I’ve thought about since our first conversation.”

My heart leapt with that confession. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked, giving him a final out if he wasn’t fully prepared to take this step.

“I have never been more sure of anything,” was his reply.

With that, he unhooked my bra, letting my breasts fall free, and slid off my wet panties. Ben led me gently to the bed, where he laid me on my back before climbing between my legs. He sat on his knees while he bent forward to capture a hardened nipple in his mouth.

His hands lightly caressed my flesh like a cool breeze on a summer night, making my nipples tighten and pucker even further. His tongue swirling over my peaks sent jolts of electricity right to my core. My moans made him increase his efforts. I could feel a warm pool of precum building on my pelvis as his cock lay against me.

When I couldn’t take it any longer, I pulled his chin up to look at me. “Please, Ben. Make love to me.”

His body instinctively knew right where to go, like we were made for each other, slipping effortlessly into my welcoming folds, and seeking that deepness that was beckoning to him. He was so much more than I ever could have dreamed in that moment. Our hunger for each overtook us and he started thrusting into me.

He was powerful, yet gentle. Needy, yet giving. Fierce, yet loving. And in that moment, he was wholly mine. Months of pent-up frustration and longing were finally over. We were together at last.

Our bodies started to tremble and quiver as we climbed towards the peak together. One final, hard thrust and we soared together, gliding through the clouds and into the sunshine, soaking in all the warmth and brightness.

We collapsed together in a tangled mess, trying to catch our breath. The tears started rolling down my cheeks again, this time because he was only mine for the week. Soon he would be gone back to his wife, and I would be left with a huge hole in my heart. I wanted all of him, but he wasn’t mine. Now that I had experienced him, I couldn’t imagine living without him.

I pushed that aside and resolved to enjoy every single minute with him that week - and boy, did we ever enjoy every single minute! We explored each other’s bodies in ways they never had been explored before, memorizing every nook and cranny. We talked. We laughed. We dreamed.

When the time came to say goodbye, we promised to get together again soon as we held each other tight. A brief kiss as he said “I love you,” and he was gone, taking a huge a piece of me with him.

We kept talking every day for the next few months. Things seemed good, and we were planning our next rendezvous. That is, until I didn’t hear from him for a few days. He didn’t answer my calls or texts. Finally, after five days of anguish, he responded that he had had the flu, and was feeling miserable. Although it would have been nice if he had told me that upfront, I understood and breathed a sigh of relief.

A few days of limited contact, while he recovered, seemed normal - I didn’t want to push him and knew he needed his rest. But then he disappeared again. Something was wrong - I could feel him pushing me away. He stopped answering my calls and texts again. My heart sank.

Then a week later I got a text message like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t ghosted me. When I asked where he was, he explained that he was busy because his wife and kids had caught the flu.

“I can understand that,” I replied. “But I guess you’ll have to forgive me for being hurt. If you really wanted me or cared about me, you’d make time for me, not shove me aside.”

His quick response was like a dagger to my heart. “I don’t mean to push you aside, but I was busy. Sometimes real life takes priority.”

Sometimes real life takes priority. I was never real to him. A simple “Yeah” was all I could say.

It appeared my feelings, desires, and needs were never real to him and never really mattered. I was just a fun distraction. Conversely, he was very real to me. I fell in love with him. He infiltrated every fibre of my being, which is why I still have hope as I read his last five words for the millionth time, a single tear trickling down my cheek.