He moaned into my lips, "I know." When he nibbled at me, the point of one of his fangs just missed my lower lip.

His fingers moved slowly and deliberately along the string, through the fabric, and then out into the cup of my top. The sensation of the swimsuit rubbing on my tender nipples was incredible, and I yearned for more.

His voice crackled with effort. He paused for a while, then said in a shaky voice, "I'm going to keep going until you tell me to stop."

I didn't know whether he was trying to scare me off or convince me.

When I tried to speak, my throat suddenly became tight. I was hoping he wouldn't quit on me. For a while there, I lost any sense of perspective and focused only on myself. To myself, I kept thinking about how remarkable and fascinating this adventure was.

My silence must have given him the idea that I wasn't going to say anything, since his fingers moved slowly inside from the rim of the cup and over my ribs to the bottom string.

As he moved the cloth triangle to the side, revealing my nakedness, I let out a gasp and a little mumble as his hand brushed across my skin. It was enticing to go from the damp, chilly cloth to his warm grasp.

Our kiss was shy at first, but it blossomed into something more passionate as we got to know one another. To my horror, he dove into my lips and ran his tongue lustfully over mine. His fingers trailed and pinched at my nipple, and it teased.

The feelings were so intense that I could feel my body temperature rising to a thousand degrees and I moaned. A dull ache had settled into my gut, and it was becoming louder and more urgent by the second. As soon as Dr. Johnson moved his leg between my knees, everything went nuclear.

When the towel unraveled from around my waist and landed at our feet, I paid it little mind. Instead, I focused on the guy who was applying pressure to my painful spot with the top of his leg. With only one kiss, he had me completely under his control. I'd had a few other male partners before David, but nothing like this.

Oh, I groaned. The grind of his leg against mine sent a jolt of intense pleasure up my spine.

He pulled back from me, and I could see that his eyes had gotten blurry from lack of sleep. His eyes were ablaze with want.

God bless you, Jessica.

His voice was shockingly thick and sexual. I'd known him for three years and had never heard him sound like that before. I gave a little shiver, reveling in the sensation and being unable to stop myself.

As I slumped against the wall and said, "Shit," my heart sank. It was always a goal of mine to avoid using profanity in his presence, but I found myself unable to hold back the swearing this time. I was ready to collapse from weakness in my legs. "Dr.Jonson-"

I'm sure he was aware. He steadied me by tightening his grip on my hips and stepping back. "Carl."

My lungs couldn't take another breath. "What?"

"Carl. It's me; my name's.

Of course I was aware of it. Nonetheless, he insisted that I address him by his first name. He was no longer a child. Really, really elderly compared to me. To me, Carl sounded like the same man I'd only known as Dr.Jonson.

Someone who is unfamiliar with you.

The term was difficult for me to form. My lips parted to call out his name, but no words came out. The silence that followed his departure made the room seem even colder. As his passion faded and was replaced with an unfathomable countenance, the temperature dropped even lower.

Was he beginning to grasp the seriousness of the situation? The phone rang before I could finish my sentence. I recognized the ringtone coming from the pocket of his pants. It was his own personal hospital gown.

When I flinched, his whole body stiffened, and we both became immovable. The expression on his face said he wanted to ignore it, but he couldn't. The phrase "I'm on-call" is used to indicate that you can reach me at any time. I need to get going-"

Yes, "I know you do." I hurriedly nodded and readjusted my bikini in an effort to make it seem like nothing had happened. It's not as if we suddenly realized we were in error.

When he turned off his body heat, the room became chilly. He took out his phone, answered it, and walked around the room as the other person talked.

Although I was slowly gaining composure and coming down from my desire, my eyes lingered over him as he enquired about the patient. His arms, not only his hands, were gorgeous. His forearms and biceps were toned and muscular. Completely lean and toned up.

He seemed quite serious when the conversation ended and we both looked at each other. It's time for me to go. Forgive me.

When he apologized, I didn't press him for details. That he had to go since he was in the middle of something and we were interrupted? The actions we took before to receiving the call? In any case, I was unable to express myself. I couldn't even think of anything to say.

"Jessica." I could see he was in distress. The question "What just occurred..."

He seemed at a loss for words for the first time. I just looked up at him, unable to do anything except take a few quick breaths.

"I took full responsibility for it," he said.

In a moment of confusion, I closed my eyes. Exactly what was he referring to? I was neither forced or convinced by him. He was kissed by me. Everything had been on both sides. I tried to speak out for him, but no words came out of my lips and no thoughts formed in my head.

A deep furrow formed between his eyebrows as he drew them together. The longer the stillness persisted, the more distressed he seemed.

Then it was evident he couldn't hold off any longer. The patient required both his attention and the precision of his scalpel.

He kept saying, "It's my fault." That's what you tell David when you tell him what's going on.

Before I could stop him, he strode to the door, wrenched it open, and left.

To that point, I had kept quiet about the incident. In fact, not even my new closest friend Naria, whom I saw every day during my internship at the animal hospital.

In an effort to put Dr. Johnson and our actions out of my mind, I made a conscious effort to block them out. Instead, my mind kept returning to David. I was becoming more and more irritated by the day that he didn't bother to phone or text. Maintaining concentration on it was less of a challenge. To what extent did he really feel no need for resolution? It just took ten seconds to erase three years of work.

Unless he was making a move to increase his own authority, this makes little sense. Perhaps he had been holding out for my phone call.

And maybe I'd been avoiding it ever since I'd done what I did to his dad. Is there any use in informing him? I didn't want to be the straw that broke the camel's back in the already tepid bond between father and kid. I knew I was being a coward, but I also couldn't see any benefit to coming clean. It wouldn't do anything but to hurt people.

Although David may not have felt the need for it, I was desperate for it and could not wait any longer. I sent him a text message on Friday, nine days after we broke up.

Jessica: Will we be discussing this?

Talk about what, David?

Were you f*cking serious? No, I couldn't possibly go into detail about anything via words.

Jessica: The comments I made while swimming. What exactly are you up to at the moment?

David: I'm occupied with Call of Duty.

I ground my teeth together. And of course. He had been doing nothing except lounging around and playing computer games.

Are you and your dad at home right now?

Contrary to what you may have heard, David says.

My chest opened up and my breath loosened. It's something I'm capable of doing. Ignore the sudden, sharp twinge of sadness at the prospect of never meeting Dr.Jonson again and hurry up and go.

Please tell me I may visit, Jessica.

David: You feeling the horniness?

What? He mistook my inquiry regarding his father's whereabouts for an invitation to have sexual relations in the absence of the man of the home. Un-fucking-real. Was he trying to act like the split never happened? There was a rapid blinking of the three dots.

Yes, you are welcome to visit, David said.

As I pulled into David's driveway, my stomach began to churn and churn. I turned off the vehicle and stood there staring at the house's dark windows, gathering my courage to do what needed to be done.

Like before, I entered through the main entrance without knocking. It was all for nothing. If I were to shout, David, who was probably in the basement, wouldn't hear me. As I strode into the living room and turned left toward the basement entrance, the flip-flops smacked on the bottoms of my feet. While I was intent on achieving my objective, I didn't even notice the change until he said anything.

"Jessica?"

I mean, Jesus Christ. My throat closed up like the Sahara and my mind froze. I accidentally said, "He stated you weren't here."

The good doctor's visage twisted into an unnatural look. A mixture of remorse, bewilderment, and pain. Maybe even a touch of dread. I felt like trash and looked away from him to the pile of mail in his hands and the takeaway container on the kitchen counter. In the air, there was a subtle hint of garlic.

He straightened his spine and hunched his shoulders. "I've only recently returned home."

"Oh." I hardly raised my voice to a whisper. "Sorry."

He looked down at me with an inclined head. I said, "Why are you in here?" I had this idea that you and David.

"We did. All I want to do is have a conversation with him. Also, be sure he knows the relationship is finished.

Dr. Johnson wore jeans and a fitting t-shirt, and I tried very hard not to imagine what he looked like without his clothes. I took a few slow, deep breaths and looked up to meet his eyes.

Speaking softly, he replied, "You haven't informed him about what I did."

It was a mistake, so I quickly put it right by saying, "What we did," and adding, "and I'm not going to."

The question is, what caused his apparent distress. Why didn't he feel relieved? "Why?"

Since doing so would not alter the past events. To say nothing of the state of affairs between you and him, all this will do is do him harm. David's bond with his dad was tenuous, but I didn't feel the need to bring it up. I don't want to put what you have at risk.

Dr. Johnson slumped down, hands on hips, shoulders drooping. "That's really kind of you, but-"

My phone just started beeping because I got a message, so there was a quick end to our conversation. I took it out of my bag and examined the display.

I suppose my dad has arrived home, David. My attention was drawn to the sound of the garage door opening. Spectacularly effective timing, David. I hung up my phone and gave Dr.Jonson a serious look. No, I don't intend to harm him. "And you're going to tell him about it?" For some reason, I shook my head. If he dislikes me, that's OK. Not you, however.

I grabbed the doorknob and opened it before he could say anything. As I ran down the stairs, past the portraits of David and I that were hanging on the wall, the sounds of mock gunfire got louder and louder.

At the bottom of the stairs, I slid to a halt.

When David got on the sofa, he wasn't alone himself. Both Daniel and Fred sat on either side of him, hands on controllers, eyes glued to the screen. My arms were at my sides, and I balled my hands into fists. The devil knows why he didn't bother to inform me that he had company.

For an instant, Daniel looked in my way and smiled pleasantly. Greetings, Jessica!

David was too engrossed in the game to take his eyes off of it. How are things?

My throat closed up in anger, but I managed to keep my words out. "Let's have a chat."

"Yeah. Please wait while I complete this stage, and I'll be right with you thereafter. It was rife with sexual innuendo meant for his pals' amusement, and they laughed it off.

The words just didn't come out of my lips. After all these time, who was he even? When I was ready to lose it, all three of them started cursing at the TV.

Fred moaned, "Fucking stuff," and looked at his pals with annoyance in his eyes.

David got up and tossed his gamepad onto the sofa arm. Eventually, I'll be back.

"Just a few, eh?" It was then that Daniel's attention shifted to me. Jessica, poor you.

This failed to delight David. "Silence, man."

Most likely, he mistook Daniel for the intended target of my chilly look. Silently, I followed him into his bedroom. I had just closed his bedroom door when he reached for me, and I quickly turned to go.

To which the respondent must ask, "What are you doing?" When it hit me, I let out a piercing scream.

David's face conveyed complete bewilderment. Excuse me. They are participating in the activity. What we do in here is none of their business.

Was he under the impression that I was dismissing him because I didn't want his pals to overhear us? "Are you completely crazy? Separation was mutual.

He had a frowning expression. You were really serious about it, right?

"Yes." Definitely, you can say that.

Once my eyes left his, they traveled over his cluttered bedroom, and I was confronted with yet another bitter reminder of what I had ended. Our poster from the sold-out Black Keys concert at the Ryman Theatre last year was attached to the wall. On his bookcase was a cup made from a mason jar. These were the takeaway items at our senior prom that were provided by our school. A picture of our group during the homecoming game was taped to the bathroom mirror.

When David blinked, his bewilderment was gone. Irritation replaced it. Because I didn't drop everything for you, you want to stop things with me?

It was my turn to be perplexed at this point. "What?"

You wanted to visit, so I agreed it was OK. Before you even got here with your SMS, Fred and Daniel had arrived. But what was I expected to say? Where are you going, since Jessica has shown an interest in spending time with me at last? No, you're not the center of the universe.

I was like, "Are you kidding me?" With a gasp, I expressed my shock. Because of the arrogance of his assertion, my anger was so intense that my sarcasm was as thick as syrup. Because the world obviously revolves around you, I know that it doesn't.

I saw how much he resembled his father when he rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. Sadly, his notion of God was the pampered, self-centered antithesis of the Almighty. It was too hot in here, and I had to go out. I had to get out of there before my mind started making inappropriate parallels.

His lack of interest left me feeling demoralized. "Goodbye, David," I managed to croak out.

I slammed his door in his face and bolted across the living room, disregarding the two men who were playing on the sofa. David, however, came after me and turned me around by gripping my shoulder. He said, "This is foolish." Just chill out.

The TV went dark. They must have stopped playing so that one of the men could hear David and I split up for the second time. They wouldn't see any performance on my part, but my rage was not going away.

Don't touch me, I snarled.

His expression soured. What do you know? Get some peace and quiet first, and then give me a call.

It was David's choice to waste his time waiting for a call that would never come. Even though I was hurt by what he said, I kept my face solid. I was resolved to break up with him, but I anticipated a fight. It was already too late. It was clear that he wouldn't be advocating on our behalf. Turning on his heel, he walked over to the sofa and reached for the controller.

That's the way he treated me after all we went through together.

As I walked up the steps, I brushed away the tears of rage. He didn't treat me with any kind of consideration, so why should I give a damn about him? I decided not to give him any more of my attention.

Dr. Johnson was doing the dishes in the kitchen sink when he heard me coming up the basement stairs and looked up. His irises sprang out. He turned off the faucet and swiftly wiped his hands on a dishtowel before advancing toward me. "Are you all right?"

No, I'm good. As a result, my tone was abrupt. Not only did I feel the want to flee my current location, but I also felt an equal desire to remain there. In many ways, I was not prepared for him to go.

Leaning back against the kitchen island, he flung the dishtowel over his shoulder and crossed his arms, maybe to prevent himself from reaching out to me. His gaze was brimming with understanding. Quite quickly, you say.

"Yup." I tried to make myself move, but my feet just wouldn't cooperate. It's been three years, so what's the big deal? The tears came to my eyes and the voice to my lips. He's alright; he's just downstairs playing video games, you know?